by Vicki Grant
PAUL: No.
HILDY: Okay, “hysterical” then?
PAUL: I didn’t say that—but frankly, I’m starting to think it.
HILDY: Oh, right. Just now starting to think it. How convenient. Like I put that idea in your head or something. Like I forced you to—
PAUL: What’s your problem? You on your period or something?
PAUL: Oh my god! Did you just throw your fish at me?!
CHAPTER
3
“It was as if my arm was… I don’t know.” Hildy scanned the crowded café for the right word. “Possessed or something. I mean, me? Throw. I don’t even know how to throw.”
“Guy deserved it.” Xiu was checking her reflection in the window and pretending not to. “Douchebag, if you ask me.”
They were sitting at their usual table. It was too cold for Hildy, right by the door with people coming in and out all the time, but Xiu had to have it. It gave her the best view of the tall guy with the seventies hair busking on the corner. She’d pledged to sit there every Saturday until Sweet Baby James looked up from his guitar and noticed her. Hildy, if she wanted to talk, had no choice but to join her there. (Xiu was queen bee. She even had the tattoo to prove it.)
Max joined them with lattes and three almond croissants to share. Two for him. The girls split the other. Today was his turn to buy.
“You haven’t missed anything.” Xiu took her coffee from him without taking her eyes off SBJ strumming away across the street. “She’s still talking about—sigh—Bob.”
“Oh. God. Drop it, Hildy. Please.” Max squished his rangy six-foot-four-inch self into the chair next to hers. “Every time you mention his name I picture that poor little King Kong puffer fish sailing through the air to its doom.”
“Max. Enough already with the gay voice.” Xiu picked the almond slivers off her part of the croissant. “You’re starting to sound like you’re waving a cigarette holder around.”
“My life. My voice.”
“Fine. If you’re okay with turning into a caricature of yourself, but I—”
“Guys!” Hildy slapped the table. “Can you listen to me for a bit? I know I’m obsessing but, seriously, you’re usually worse than me and, right now, I need you to listen.”
Max pulled an invisible zipper across his lips. Xiu had just taken a nibble so she wouldn’t be talking for a while. She never spoke with her mouth full.
“I just need to figure out how I managed to go so drastically off the rails, then I’ll shut up. Promise.”
Xiu swallowed, and said, “Well, that’s easy. Overstimulation.”
Hildy looked away. She shouldn’t have asked.
“You were all worked up about the problems at home and nervous about the little blind date you’d just had sprung on you, then His Hotness walked in, pushed a few buttons and you lost it. There. Case closed. Back to me.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Is so. You’ve done it before.”
“Have not.”
Even Max laughed.
“Opening night, Oklahoma! National debate semifinals. The morning we left on our three-city tour of vintage clothing stores. I’m missing one.… oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!—your eighth birthday party.”
Hildy smiled like very funny.
“Only that time, as I recall, it was the Dora the Explorer ice cream cake that tipped you over the edge. Remember your mother banishing you to your room?” Xiu closed her eyes, put one perfectly manicured hand over her mouth, and snorted. “I love Amy but, wow. She’s like the banishing queen. The arched eyebrows. The long shaking finger. God. That time she caught us in her makeup? I doubt I’ll ever fully recover.”
“Please.” Max adjusted his horn-rims. “She caught Hildy and me in bed.”
“Shit. I forgot about that.”
“I’m glad you two find this amusing.” Hildy scooched toward the table so a man with a howling baby and several canvas bags full of vegetables could get by. “Go ahead. Laugh at me. I don’t care.”
“We’re not laughing at you. We’re just laughing. Know why?” Xiu threw her napkin over her plate so she wouldn’t be tempted to eat any more. “One) Because we’re young and alive and two) because it’s not that big a deal. It’s normal. I don’t know what it is about surly guys but they make girls do crazy things. Especially so-called ‘sensitive’ girls. Witness Heathcliff.”
“Yeah. But I blew up.”
“Spontaneous human combustion. Also normal. Well-known phenomenon.”
“This isn’t a joke, Max.”
“Not saying it is. Someone gave me a stick and hung a young Steve McQueen piñata full of Jujubes in front of me, I’d have combusted, too. Only so much a body can stand.”
Hildy stared into her latte and pictured the baggie flying across the table. Heard the smack as it hit his face. Felt the water splash over her hand and up her sleeve. Saw herself scramble, honking and spastic, out of the room. “I should have gone with my first instinct and left as soon as I found out what the study was about. I knew I couldn’t do the love thing.”
Max clamped his hands on either side of his head and went, “Hildy. Por favor!”
Xiu said, “Don’t be so stupid,” and began declumping her eyelashes with her fingertips.
“I’m not being stupid. I’m taking an honest look at my life and drawing the obvious conclusions. This is what happens when you pretend to be something you’re not. I’d somehow managed to convince myself that I’d get in there with my random stranger and it would be like improv. I’d be terrified but the adrenaline would kick in and I’d pull it off. And for a while I did. Had a little trouble with tears halfway through but I pretty much held my own—until one stupid comment and bang! The real me busted out again. Like she always does. So that’s that. Doesn’t matter. Lots of people are single their whole lives and are totally fine with it.”
“Sure.” Max took her croissant because she clearly wasn’t eating it. “The pope, most guidance counselors—and who else?”
No one came to mind. Max raised one thick, well-groomed eyebrow. Hildy let it drop.
“You’re making stuff up, Hildy.” Xiu flicked some crumbs out of the floppy bow of her disco-era polyester blouse. “You’ve had a bit of a late start and a few setbacks but you’ve got to stop obsessing about it. Especially with regards to Douchebag here. I mean, good riddance. What kind of guy thinks he can get away with accusing you of being on your period?”
Max showed his teeth and nodded. “Yeah, Hil. Deal breaker. I mean, my dad knows that and he’s a mechanical engineer from a former Soviet-bloc country.”
Hildy resisted the urge to suck on the end of her braid. “Look. I know. Paul crossed the line and—”
Xiu raised her hand. “Stop. For starters, don’t call him Paul.”
“Why? That’s his name.”
“Too confusing. Pauls are potentially datable. Bobs are retired gym teachers and alcoholic great-uncles and, thus, are not. Stick to Bob. Or Douchebag. Your choice.”
“Fine. Bob crossed the line and I’m not defending him…”
“Although you’re no doubt about to.” Xiu checked her nails.
“… but who am I kidding? I’m the problem.” Hildy moved the handle of her latte back and forth in a tick-tock motion. “It’s precisely because I liked him and in some weird way I could see that he liked me too that it was doomed to failure. Again, that’s just who I am.”
Max turned to Xiu. “Do you think that by listening to this endless shit we may actually be enabling her in some way?”
“Okay. Look.” Xiu shoved their dirty dishes aside like a general laying out a war map. “You’re right. Complicated guy. The sketching. The drumming. The glimpses of humor. Even, within limits, the douchiness. All very attractive. But let’s be realistic. You don’t want a caveman.”
“You’re not listening to me. I don’t want anyone.”
“Wrong. But you certainly don’t want a guy who doesn’t read.”
“He’s n
ot stupid.” For some reason, it was important to Hildy they know that.
“He had to ask you the meaning of ethereal and—what was the other word?”
“Segue.” Max said it with a pronounced French accent.
“Yes. Segue.” Xiu shook her head in disbelief. “Words the average seven-year-old throws around like LEGO blocks.”
She reached out and held Hildy’s hand. “Forget Neanderbob. What about that Trevor guy in Modern World History? He sounds doable. I mean, once you fix his hair.”
Hildy took her hand away. “I’m not interested in Bob or Trevor. I’m not interested in guys, period. I told you. I’m through.”
“Ooh. So dramatic! And inaccurate too. How can you be through with something you haven’t even started?”
“Thanks, Max. You, in particular, should know I’m not totally inexperienced.”
Xiu raised a finger in the air and gave one point to Hildy.
“There were other guys, too.” Hildy hated the way they both nodded. Just because they were suddenly sexperts didn’t mean they could treat her like a child.
“William Foster,” she said. “Junior high prom. I went to the washroom and came back to find him making out with Elianna Bulmer.”
“You were fourteen. He was a jerk. Move on.” Xiu was slightly uncomfortable because she’d made out with him, too.
“I did move on. Anton Friesen. And how did that work out?”
“What did you expect? You never tell someone you love them on the third date.”
“Fine. Nate Schultz.”
They both groaned. “You didn’t even like him! I’m amazed he stuck around as long as he did,” Max said. “And anyway, he wasn’t cute enough for you.”
Hildy had several more humiliating examples to add but instead looked right at Max and said, “You.”
He dropped the jokey tone. “Hildy. You don’t actually want to go down this road again.”
She didn’t. “Okay then. Evan Keefe.”
Max flopped his neck over the back of his chair and stared dead-eyed at the ceiling for a few moments before answering. “He didn’t ravage you when he had the chance. Know why? He’s 98 percent plastic. He doesn’t have the working parts.”
“Not to mention, he’s full of himself.” Xiu was getting bored. “As is Bob by the sound of it. Can we change the subject?”
Yes, Hildy thought, but Max said, “I find his twelve-minutes-on-such-and-such-a-date comment oddly intriguing. What do you think that’s all about?”
Xiu smiled sadly at Hildy, then began fishing in her purse for her makeup bag. “Obviously something sexual. Again, so not the guy for you.”
Hildy thought of the look on Bob’s face. She knew he wasn’t talking about something sexual. This was something serious. But she wasn’t going to tell them that.
“Normally, I’d find it semi-offensive that you think anything sexual would be so wrong for me, but luckily in this case it just proves my point. I’m done.”
Xiu shrugged and put on the deep burgundy lipstick she’d recently started wearing. “You’re done with him. Which is great. Now you don’t have to explain the teardrop tattoo to your parents. Amy would not have been cool with that.”
Max put his arm around the back of Hildy’s chair and leaned in close. “You’ll get over this. I was a mess with the first guy who made me feel that way, too.”
“You were the first guy who made me feel that way, Max.”
Xiu squawked. “Ooh. Burn!” She kissed the extra lipstick off onto her napkin. “If you hadn’t wanted to experiment with heterosexuality, Hildy never would have… Oh my god. Sweet Baby James. On the move.”
The busker had picked up his guitar case and was coming inside. Xiu snapped her earrings back on, air-kissed her friends, then beetled off to a strategic spot by the counter.
Max called out after her, “Don’t forget: party tonight. Rendezvous at ten.” She waved at him either like “Yeah, I know,” or “I’m not interested.” Sweet Baby James got in line behind her and started blowing on his fingers to warm up. She turned toward him and smiled.
Hildy watched Xiu move in on her prey and shuddered. “Even the thought of doing that again makes me feel slightly queasy.”
Max’s mouth was full with the remains of Xiu’s croissant. “That’s like waking up with a hangover and swearing you’re never going to drink again. Everybody says it. Nobody means it.”
“I do. I wonder if I’m asexual.”
Max gave a big phony bark of a laugh. “You aren’t. I have proof.”
“You mean, us? That doesn’t count. We barely got past shirts-off.”
“Not talking about us, although you were quite enthusiastic as I recall.”
“More enthusiastic than you.”
“Well, we know there was a reason for that now, don’t we?”
“So what’s your proof then?”
He fished his phone out of his pocket and read the text. “Quote: ‘I think I’m finally ready to move past spooning’ by which you clearly meant ready to advance to big-girl sex to which I replied, ‘Mazel tov,’ and I meant it.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“This is not about thinking, Hildy. Once again, you have to try to aim a little lower.”
“Can we get out of here?” she said, and got up. She hated having her words thrown back at her. For a while there, she’d been so sure she’d figured this out.
She had to go to the fish store, so Max tagged along. She could tell he had something on his mind.
“Okay, Hildy,” he said, once they’d settled into a seat near the back of the bus. “Hit me.” He turned his face toward her and smacked his cheek. “Right here. Best you got. C’mon.”
“No.” This wasn’t what she’d expected. She didn’t feel like joking around.
“I want you to hit me.”
“No. Why?”
“’Cause I’m a prick.”
“True. So what?” She looked out the window and thought about Bob. She clearly had a thing for pricks.
“I didn’t realize until now how bad I’d made you feel about yourself.”
“That’s because you’re a prick. See above.”
“What can I say? Sixteen-year-old boys are assholes anyway and I was confused. You were so cute and fun and smart I thought you’d be able to banish all those fantasies of half-naked lacrosse players dancing in my head. I loved you. You know I did. You know I do.” He nuzzled her neck but she pushed him away. “But I was using you, too. I get that now. Sorry I was such a douchewad.”
She turned and looked at him. “And now you want me to punch you in the face so we can call it even.”
“Yeah. Deal?”
“No.” She remembered Bob making fun of her upper arm strength. “One punch from scrawny little me. You call that even? You deserve way worse than that.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“A lifetime of punishment, that’s what you deserve. And I’m damn well going to make sure you get it.”
“Pinky swear?”
“Yup.”
“That’s my girl.”
He kissed her forehead. She leaned into the crook of his arm. They rode like that for a while and then Hildy said, “Ever feel like a complete screwup?”
“Yeah. Daily. But I also shit daily. In both cases, I flush, wash my hands, and blame the stink on the last guy.”
Hildy didn’t laugh.
Max took the elastic out of her hair and started rebraiding it. “Fine. What have you gone and screwed up now, or are we still on Bob?”
She sighed. She knew he wasn’t going to like it but if she couldn’t tell Max, who could she tell? “No. But I feel like I’m doing the same thing to everyone.”
“Doing what to everyone?”
“Not throwing stuff at them maybe but chasing them away. Alienating them. You know. Messing up their lives.”
“Is this part of your whole ‘lifetime of punishment’ thing? Just punch me in the face, would you? Have mercy.�
��
“I’m serious. I feel like I’m ruining things.”
Max wrapped Hildy’s braid around her neck and pretended to strangle her.
“I mean it,” she said, and flicked it back over her shoulder.
“Okay. Who exactly have you chased away? I’m only asking to humor you, of course.” He put the elastic in her hair and patted everything into place.
“Iris.”
“Please. You’re why she didn’t show up today? She never shows up anymore. She’s with the costume design people. She’s got a new group of friends and I, for one, am okay with that. I’ve heard enough about whalebone corsets and French seams for one lifetime. And coming from me, that’s saying something.”
“She’s moved on because I opened my big mouth and mentioned us going to the Thai restaurant while she was…”
“Aargh. She was away! We have to go into hibernation until she’s available? Frankly, if she’s not coming because of something you said, I owe you. Bus driver! Next ride’s on me! Okay. Who else?”
“Evan.”
“We did Evan already. He’s a moron whose only possible appeal is that he rejected you. Why even worry about him? He’s at college. Forget about him.”
“Dad and Gabe—”
“Stop.” Max turned to face her. His parka squeaked against the seat. “I mean it. Enough. You had nothing to do with that.”
“I did.”
“No. You didn’t. You know what? In your own quiet way, you’re kind of a megalomaniac. You think you control the world or something? This may come as a shock but you have no power over how your father reacts to your brother. Or anyone else for that matter. Get over it.”
“But if I hadn’t shown him that picture, they’d—”
“The picture. That was taken two months ago. And Gabe is what? Twelve? Twelve and a half? The problem started at least thirteen years ago. Not by you. By your mother. And maybe your father—but definitely not by you.”
“I know that. I mean, I sort of know that, but what is it that compels me to, I don’t know, blurt things out?… It’s like I’m this, this, liaison to disaster or something.”
“Liaison to Disaster. Isn’t that a brand of skateboard apparel? Why, yes, I believe it is.”
