Double Pop

by Jamie Bennett

  “You look familiar to me,” the big guy said, and I glanced at him again as we passed under another light. It suddenly came to me and thank Jesus, I knew he wasn’t a parent. I didn’t remember his name, but we had met, very briefly, a few weeks before. “How do I know you?” he asked.

  “Through my friend Lanie and her roommate,” I told him. “You went to high school with them, I think.”

  “That’s right,” he nodded. “You’re Lanie March’s friend. You’re a teacher at Starhurst Academy.” He looked over at me again. “Julie, right?”

  “Jolie,” I ground out. “Jolie Fraser.”

  “Luca Visconti,” he answered. “I would shake your hand, but I don’t want to drop your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said quickly. “I don’t know him at all. I don’t even know his last name.”

  “What were you doing with him?” Luca asked, staring contemptuously down at the drunk guy we were dragging along with us.

  “I…” What did he think I was doing, going home with a man who was not my boyfriend? “We just made, uh, friends.”

  “You and him?” Luca’s lip actually curled.

  “He didn’t seem so bad in the bar!” I defended myself. And it was true, Stoney really did seem a whole lot worse after he fell into a plant then puked on me.

  Luca didn’t answer, and we didn’t speak again until we got to my car. I let go of Stoney’s sagging body to run around and unlock the driver’s side with my key, then leaned over to unlock the passenger side. Luca lowered him into the seat and I got out and came around again to get the seatbelt, reaching across Stoney to stretch it over his lap, and by mistake I brushed against…well, himself. Stoney’s eyes popped open. “Hi, hot stuff,” he told me blearily, and he lunged toward me, trying to kiss me with his vomity mouth.

  I reared back away from him and smacked my head on the metal frame of my old car, right where the black rubber padding had fallen off.

  “Ow!” I stepped back blindly as tears filled my eyes, and then, before I knew it, my ankle turned and I was on the ground. I lay suddenly on the wet sidewalk where I had landed with a huge thump. It seemed to knock the speech out of me.

  “Jolie! Are you ok?” Luca bent down next to me on the concrete. “What just happened? Did he hurt you?”

  I shook my head, hoping that he would mistake the few tears that had escaped my eyes for raindrops. “He just startled me. He tried to kiss me, and I hit my head, and I slipped, I guess,” I explained, when I had found my voice.

  “Can you stand up? You’re sitting in a puddle.” Luca reached forward and lifted me like it was nothing. But when he put me on my feet, I fell forwards, into him.

  “OW!” I clutched his arms. “I must have—I think I twisted my ankle when I fell.” I tried to put weight on it and gasped in pain. I stood on one foot, in the once-nice going out shoes that were probably now totally ruined by the pouring rain and vomit. Fuck me. This was a major, major sucker.

  Luca was still holding me up, his hands under my elbows. “Is it bad?” he asked me.

  “No, it’s nothing.” I eased my foot down but the instant I put any pressure on it, pain shot back through my whole leg, and I gasped again. “I guess it’s lucky that I’m going to the hospital,” I said, and tried for a smile. I let go of his arms and hopped back. “Thanks for your help with Stoney. Sorry about the puke.” We both looked at his shoes.

  “I think by now, the rain has washed it away,” Luca told me. “Which ankle is it, your right?” I nodded. “How do you plan to drive?”

  “I’ll be fine. I can probably drive ok.”

  “You’d be willing to risk that guy, too?” He tilted his head at Stoney, who was now snoring slightly in my front seat. Just as long as he didn’t throw up into it.

  I thought. “Yeah, I shouldn’t. I mean, I guess I could leave him here, on the curb,” I mused aloud, and Luca looked shocked. “No, I won’t really leave him,” I said quickly. Even if I really, really wanted to. “I guess…”

  What was I going to do? I didn’t want to call an ambulance and deal with that all that official red tape stuff, and I sure didn’t want sit there and wait with him until it came. I wanted to dump him…I meant, drop him off, and be done with him and this night. I considered ordering up a car to drive him to the hospital with my eight dollars until payday and my 50-cent credit limit after buying the drinks at Pijos. But no one with half a brain would take Stoney without insisting on an escort for him. That would mean I’d have go too, then I’d have to get another ride back to get my own car. And if I left my clunker parked on the street for too long in this swanky town, it would get hauled away by some gold-plated tow truck, or maybe they would just toss it in the dumpster.

  Nope, it was going to have to be on me to handle Stoney and I wanted to get it over with, fast. And then I would close the door on this incident and never think of it again, how my attempt to get a guy for even one measly night had led to multiple injuries and wardrobe wreckage. “I can drive us,” I said firmly, and hop-walked over to the curb. “Thank you for your help with him, and I’m sorry, again. I’ll take it from here.”

  “This is ridiculous. Just ridiculous.” He sighed. “I’ll drive you there.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “You can’t move your foot to press the pedals, and I can’t leave you here on the sidewalk in the rain with that guy.” His mouth twisted at the mention of Stormy. Yeah, he wasn’t exactly a prime specimen of manhood. “You should get your ankle checked before you try to drive. I’ll take you to the hospital and get a car to bring me back here.”

  “Ok,” I said slowly. Because that would have solved a lot of my problems, but it created a lot more for him. “If you’re sure, then thank you. I appreciate it a lot. And I’ll pay for your ride.”

  Even in the dark, with the rain pouring down, I could see the disapproval in his face. “I think I can cover it. Here.” He lifted me again, just like I was some slight feather, and put me down carefully at the side of the car.

  Well. It certainly felt nice being whisked around like that. It could even make a lady forget that her ankle was throbbing so badly, a quick amputation was sounding like a good deal. I scrambled on one foot, very gracelessly, into the tiny backseat, where I smushed myself between the bag of school stuff I hadn’t carried up to my apartment because I hadn’t wanted to think about it and my daughter’s car seat. Then Luca got in, and I heard him scrabbling around under the seat. “I’m putting this back a little,” he told me.

  “What the fuck!” I yelped, as my face met upholstery.

  “Sorry.” He moved the seat forward about an inch. “I can’t drive with my knees bent to my chest.”

  “How tall are you, anyway?” I asked, realizing that his head was also brushing the ceiling. “You’re a giant.”

  “I’m only six-four. Is it too tight for you back there?”

  So literally, he was “only” a foot taller than I was. And I thought Lanie had made me feel short. “It’s fine,” I said faintly. I was quickly becoming claustrophobic; my back seat was already a better fit for a mosquito than a fully-developed human, and with my giant school bag, the colossal car seat, and now, the driver’s seat smushing me…

  I tried to think of wide-open spaces. Meadows with swaying, sweet-smelling flowers. Endless green trees in whispering forests. Rolling waves in miles of ocean. My breathing slowed and I started to relax. Yes, wide-open, sweet-smelling, and soothing sounds.

  Stoney belched. Loudly. It woke him up and he started singing again.

  Luca said something that I didn’t quite catch and rolled down the window. The post-it notes I had stuck to my dashboard waved in the wind. “Who is this man, please?” he asked, the words sounding vaguely odd to me. “Again, how you met him?”

  “At Pijos,” I said, mentioning the name of the bar. “I was with Lanie, the woman you know. And he seemed ok there.”

  “He’s not ok,” Luca informed me. “This is the kind o
f man you want?”

  “No, this vomiting, burping asshole is not the kind of man I want,” I said, my voice rising. “It just happens to be the kind of man I ended up with tonight, because—because—” Because I was desperate. Because my standards were low. Because I had said I was going to do it, and I didn’t want to go back on my word. Because… “Because I wanted to!” I told Luca.

  Stoney took this opportune moment to become lucid enough to respond. “Me and Julie, we’re gonna get it on,” he announced, loudly.

  “My name is Jolie. JOLIE!” The last time I repeated it, it was more like a yell.

  “She’s a hot little package,” Stoney informed Luca, and then patted his own crotch, like he had done in the bar. “I didn’t tell her about my wife.”

  “Oh. My. God!” I was still yelling. “You piece of shit! Really? You’re not wearing a ring!”

  “I lost it pretty soon after we got hitched. I took it off a lot,” he explained, and I was sure that he had.

  Luca muttered something else I didn’t catch, and then we pulled up in front of the hospital, and he got out quickly. Then just as quickly, he reached back in and jerked the seat forward, probably almost pulling it out of the car. But I didn’t care, because I could breathe again. Thank Jesus. I started to lever myself out.

  “Here, I’ll help you.”

  Suddenly I was airborne, until Luca put me down, now breathless all over again from my unanticipated flight, at the big sliding doors of Marin Saint Panteleimon Hospital. He returned to the car and yanked Stoney out, a lot less gently, and leaned him against a column.

  “Give me your number and I’ll let you know where in the garage I left your car,” Luca told me. “I’ll put the keys on the back tire. I can’t imagine car theft is a serious problem here.”

  I felt secure that no one would be taking my car, and if they did, God speed to them, and I definitely didn’t care if my work bag went with it. The only loss I would regret would be my daughter’s car seat. “That’s fine,” I answered. “I think it’s safe.” I recited my number and he put it in his phone.

  “Good luck with him,” Luca said, after he finished typing. And then suddenly, he smiled at me.

  Holy fuck, had I missed this before? I had been so focused on the problems with the drunk guy, I had missed that the sober one was drop-dead gorgeous! Like Gregory Peck, in terms of features. No, maybe Carey Grant. But more brooding, like a little James Dean thrown in, and blonde, like…I couldn’t think of anyone at the moment. But his eyes were total Paul Newman blue.

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely, and at the moment, mostly I meant it as an appreciation for gifting me with that smile. My hands went to my hair, where the dark curls had become a sodden, wet, mess of Medusa snakes on my head. Never mind my hair. “Thank you so much for your help with him,” I added, and I jerked my thumb at my stupid pick-up, who belched again. Ugh.

  “Are you going to be able to drive home on your bad leg?” Luca asked me.

  I was watching his beautiful lips move, and I had almost missed the question. “What? Oh, yeah. Sure. I’ll get my ankle wrapped, take some pills, I’ll be great. Sure.”

  “Ok, then.” He hesitated for a moment. “It was nice to see you again, Jolie.”

  That made me laugh, because, really? “Was it? You sure?” I asked, and he laughed too. Then he raised his hand and waved and got into my old junkyard car. The seat shot back again and he pulled out fast toward the parking lot.

  “Uh, Julie?”

  I turned to Stoney, and didn’t bother to get on him about my name. “Yes?”

  “Is this your place? My head is killing me. I don’t think I’m up for the old tussle in the sheets.” His face was dead white. Even the bright yellow of his shirt now seemed sickly. “I think I need a doctor or something.”

  “Yeah, no tussle tonight,” I told him, as nicely as I could. I couldn’t just leave him here. Jesus. “Let’s get you inside. Come on, stud.” I limped, and he wobbled, and we went together into the emergency room.

  And that was how I spent my one free night out. Yup.

  Chapter 2

  “Really?” My cousin Maia tried to keep a straight face, but she was struggling. “That’s how you hurt your ankle?” She bit her lip but giggled anyway, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.”

  “Go ahead and laugh it up, Chuckles,” I advised. I limped over to the couch and flopped next to her, putting a cup of water for my daughter on the table in front of us. “Yes, that’s the sad, terrible story. My big night out was me slipping and falling into a puddle, then sitting with my—” I lowered my voice to a whisper—“my stupid, drunk friend in the emergency room for hours, soaked with rainwater mixed with splashes of vomit.”

  Maia laughed harder and my daughter, Nola, looked up from her position on the floor with her toys. “Heh heh heh,” she said, very seriously, imitating Maia. She made me laugh, too. Now, in the light of day, the situation was funny, in an awful way. Of course, I hadn’t told my younger cousin the worst part, which was that the “friend” who had ended up with a concussion after the header into a bush was not actually a friend but instead, a total stranger. A guy I had picked up to sleep with, one who turned out to be not only married, but with a toddler and another kid on the way. Wow, had his pregnant wife been happy when he had sobered up a little and called her from the hospital. When she came in, pushing a stroller and already yelling, I had hobbled out as fast as I could into the misty, grey, sad, sex-free morning, my head killing me, my mouth dry as a bone. Men sucked. They sucked major donkey balls.

  Then I had driven home on the ankle I had wrapped myself, because I didn’t want to get into dealing with doctors, nurses, administration, etc. It certainly hadn’t been a great experience trying to accelerate or brake with the foot below the bandage that I had tied way, way too tightly, and a lot of swearing had gone down for sure. I was so tired and my head hurt so much that by the time I got back to my apartment building, I was almost in tears. I was definitely crying when I got to the top of the stairs at my door. I had quietly hopped past my cousin, serenely asleep on the couch. Then I had cut off the constricting wrap around my leg, eased myself into my bed with an ancient bag of frozen pearl onions resting on the swelling, and bawled.

  But by this morning, talking with Maia and laughing about it all, I perked up again. I wasn’t really one to dwell, and I felt better after the few of hours of sleep I got before my little girl started snuffling around in her tiny bed on the other side of the room we shared. The huge pot of coffee and the pancakes that my cousin had made while telling me to stay off my feet had also helped a lot. It was fun, despite everything, to wake up and hang out with her. I wished that she lived closer, and I was hoping she would soon.

  Maia and I had planned to spend the day together and I had been looking forward to it for weeks. I had a bunch of siblings and legions of extended family members, but Maia and I were the closest out of all of them, even if I was eight years older. We had been together so much as kids that she could have been my younger sister. But we had also grown up with so little supervision, that I had always been more like a very, very young mother to her. I remembered watching her when she was a baby, feeding her, putting her down for naps—I couldn’t have been more than nine. Now here she was, making me pancakes and bringing me aspirin. She was suddenly all grown up.

  “I don’t want to leave you stuck on the couch all day,” Maia told me, but I shooed her away.

  “No, no. I’m totally good to go with you.”

  She looked at my ankle skeptically. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Definitely.” At this point, my head hurt more than my ankle did, and I wasn’t going to let either of those things mess with my time with my cousin. Maia had taken the bus down from our tiny hometown in the far northern reaches of California to visit colleges in the Bay Area. I rarely got to see her, because she was busy with high school and work and her boyfriend. I wanted to take advantage of our day together, after losi
ng out on time with her the night before. The time I had spent with Stoney, the wife-cheating head-injury guy. He really, really hadn’t been worth it.

  I didn’t want to miss helping Maia pick a college, because was I was just about bursting with pride at her accomplishments. She had a good job, she wrote for the high school newspaper, she was a basketball star despite not being any taller than I was. And now, here she was, just about to go to a four-year college, just about to start off on her amazing life. I was so excited to be a part of it, and I wanted Nola (as young as she was) to get an eyeful of what a woman could do if she set her mind to it. Maia was the perfect role model for my daughter. I wanted Nola to grow up just like her.

  “I’ll get us dressed, and then we’ll go.” I pried myself from the couch, my body creaking and angry, my head still fuzzy and pounding. God, I was 26 and already old. “Nola, let’s pick clothes. What should we wear today?” Almost as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it was a mistake to ask a three-year-old what she wanted to wear. Nola immediately selected a cocktail dress for me and a bathing suit from the summer before for herself. After that, getting regular, seasonally-appropriate clothes on her, getting dressed myself, and getting everyone in the car and out, was definitely a lot harder.

  We drove across the San Rafael Bridge to see the university on the other side of the bay. First, we sat in on an information session that went on a little long, mostly because of the parents whose “questions” for the presenters seemed to revolve around them trying to announce to the room how smart and accomplished their kids were: “Beginning when she was four years old, my daughter has spent each summer free-climbing high voltage power lines to count eagle eggs in their nests. Also, her GPA just rose above an 11.8, the first person in recorded history to have an average so high. How will this affect her chances of getting into this school?” Maia and I shared more than a few eye rolls and I may have mimicked some of Stoney’s gagging noises when another mom referred to her son as “the second coming of Leonardo da Vinci.”