CHAPTER 16
Now that he had declared himself to Grace, instead of feeling relieved that she seemed to reciprocate at least some of what he was feeling, he was obsessing about her more than ever. No matter where he was, no matter what he was doing, she invaded his every thought. Even standing at a urinal in the boys’ bathroom, reading the nonsense scrawled on the tile wall — ken q. is a motherfucker, and below it, ur mother says hi, ken q. — and other equally eloquent observations about life, Charlie couldn’t stop thinking about Grace. He wondered if she would ever be ready for a real relationship with a normal guy. While he knew he could get past the Nick thing, he wasn’t sure she ever would. At the sound of another guy peeing, Charlie woke from his daydream. Glancing to the left, he saw Nick Salter.
“What are you looking at, homo?” Nick said, glaring at Charlie.
“Studies show that the more homophobic a man is the more likely he is to possess latent homosexual tendencies.” Did I just say that out loud? How gay did that sound? Charlie thought, wishing he could retrieve his words.
“What?” Nick looked genuinely puzzled. “Are you calling me a fag, faggot?”
“Your command of the English language is impressive.” Biting his tongue, Charlie knew he sounded like a creepy college professor, which wasn’t helpful when talking to someone like Nick. Recovering, he said, “I’m not calling you anything, man. Just leave it.”
As much as Charlie wanted to get into it with this scum, defend Grace’s honor in some small way, he couldn’t bring himself to pick a fight with this loser. Ultimately it would accomplish nothing, except possibly getting him suspended, which could really screw up his college applications. Wishing he didn’t think so much, he longed to be more emotional, less cerebral, so he could just go whale on this jerk.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you? You sound like my grandfather.”
“You want me to talk like a regular guy? Okay, here goes. Just because you’ll stick your dick in anything that moves, you think that makes you special? Just because every other word you say is ‘fuck’ doesn’t make you special.” Charlie zipped his pants and walked over to the sink, turned on the water, and stared at his reflection in the filthy mirror.
“And what does, you prissy prick?”
“Definitely not screwing as many girls as you can just to prove how macho you are … and then abandoning them when they get pregnant,” Charlie said quietly.
“So that’s it. You’ve got a hard-on for that chick Grace. Pretty fucked up to be chasing after someone in her, um, condition. But I don’t know why you’re talking to me about it. I never fucked her.” Lying had become like breathing for Nick. “Not that it’s any of your business.” Nick glared at Charlie’s starched shirt and V-neck sweater, wondering how such a poof had the guts to talk to him and whether it was Grace or Jennifer who had ratted him out.
“That’s not what I hear, you pathetic excuse for a human being. You got her pregnant and walked, no, ran, away.” At that moment, Charlie wanted to kill this douchebag who had stolen something precious from Grace and left her with permanent scars.
Suddenly Nick was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder, smiling dangerously at Charlie’s reflection. “Don’t you say that out loud ever again, you fucking queer. You understand me?”
“Which part? The part about how you knocked up Grace or the part about you being pathetic?” Before he could turn around, Nick punched him in the kidney and Charlie grunted, doubling over in pain. “Shit,” he groaned. This was not how his fantasy attack on this asshole was supposed to go. He was supposed to be the one doing the sucker punching.
“You think you’re funny? I’ll beat the living crap out of you.” Nick couldn’t believe that he’d come in for a simple piss, and now he was trading punches with some shithead who had the hots for Grace.
“You think?” Charlie spun around, fist up, his punch landing squarely on Nick’s exquisite nose. Blood gushed, staining Nick’s pristine white T-shirt and dripping onto the tile floor.
“You stupid fuck. Now you’ve done it.” Nick’s flawless profile that had escaped injury in spite of years of contact sports was ruined.
Three minutes and two black eyes later, the newly elected president of the freshman class wandered into the bathroom and discovered two bloody, bruised seniors flailing around on the blood-smeared floor. Doing a quick about-face, in spite of the fact that he really needed to use the bathroom, he ran to the principal’s office to report the crime in progress.
“So what were you two geniuses fighting about?” Principal Stanley stared impassively across his desk. Based on their appearances, there was no clear winner. Pushing a box of Kleenex towards Nick, he said, “You’re dripping on my new carpet.”
Nick grabbed a handful of tissue and held it up to his nose, which was running like a faucet.
“It was just a misunderstanding, Mr. Stanley,” Charlie offered. “We worked it out.”
“Yeah,” Nick echoed in a nasal voice, grateful that Charlie didn’t seem eager to share his secret about Grace.
“I have your files in front of me, and I see that you, Mr. Salter, are being recruited by a few powerhouse schools who would like to exploit your athletic abilities. And Mr. Glass, you’re Ivy League all the way. Fighting in the bathroom like a couple of thugs is not the smartest way to achieve either of your goals. Would you boys agree with that assessment?”
“Yes sir,” the boys said, staring straight ahead.
Mr. Stanley was in a tough position. Helen Teitelbaum had written a large check with no strings attached to the PTA when she enrolled her nephew at Silver Lake, and hoping that her generosity was not an isolated incident, the principal was reluctant to inflict a punishment that might cause her to slam her checkbook shut. Besides, from what he knew about Charlie Glass, he was a good kid — a straight-A student with English boarding school manners. Nick Salter was what the kids called a “playah,” who was constantly being oohed and aahed over by a gaggle of adolescent girls in tight jeans. He wondered how the kid could make his way down the hall through the throngs of admiring females; it was an enviable predicament. Neither one was a troublemaker, so there was likely a good reason the two had come to blows, but after thirty years of listening to children either spill their guts or lie like thieves, he was losing interest in getting to the bottom of things. At the moment, all he cared about was surviving until June, when he could retire with a full pension and spend his days building ship models in the glorious solitude of his basement.
“Today’s your lucky day, gentlemen. It’s my wife’s birthday, and I’m feeling festive. So in the spirit of giving, I’m going to let you off the hook with a very stern warning,” the principal said, peering over his reading glasses at two kids who in a few months would be old enough to vote and defend the United States in a war, but now, as they slumped in their chairs in their torn and bloodied clothes, looked like a couple of little boys fresh from a schoolyard skirmish.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Stanley. I don’t know what I was thinking, and I promise it won’t happen again.”
Charlie had never been called into the office of the principal or headmaster of any of the many schools he had attended all over the world. Never before had he allowed his emotions to trump his good sense. That could mean only one thing: he was definitely in love with Grace.
“I’m sure you are, Mr. Glass. Mr. Salter, do you echo your compatriot’s sentiments?” Mr. Stanley looked expectantly at Nick, tapping his pen as he waited for a response.
“Yes, sir,” Nick mumbled.
Barely able to see out of his right eye, Nick was fuming less over getting into a fight with the pansy-assed prepster who was mooning over the one girl he regretted fucking than he was over the fact that his perfect face was going to be considerably less perfect for the foreseeable future. Although, if he really thought about it in a glass-half-full kind of way, girls were nurturers, so he was fairly certain he would be able to find a few biddies willing t
o take off their clothes and nurse him back to health.
“You two are so close to the finish line, I’m fairly confident that you’ll find the wherewithal to control your caveman urges in the future. But if you don’t, be warned, I’m going to throw the book at you. And you know what that means — no Division One, no ivy-covered halls.”
“Yes, Mr. Stanley.”
“Why don’t you two take the rest of the day off? And next time, use your words instead of your fists.”
“Yes, Mr. Stanley.” Both boys shuffled out, heads down, and walked quickly in opposite directions down the hallway outside the principal’s office.
When Charlie walked into the kitchen, Helen and Vera were sitting at the table, heads together, doing the crossword puzzle. Vera looked up and screamed, causing Helen to spill coffee all over the newspaper. Both women jumped to their feet and started babbling at once.
“I don’t look that bad, do I? Vera, could I have a bag of peas to put on my eye?”
“That kind of shiner needs a steak, young man,” said Vera as she went to find just the right cut of meat.
“Charlie, what happened?” Helen asked, wondering how she was going to tell Charlie’s parents that he had gotten beaten up on her watch.
“I got in a fight. It was nothing. Vera, I’m not putting a piece of raw meat on my face. A bag of ice or frozen peas will be fine.”
“You, a fight? Who would start a fight with you? You’re the most civilized young man I’ve ever met,” Helen said as she stood in front of Charlie, smoothing his wrinkled, bloodstained shirt and gently patting his swollen cheek.
“It was kind of mutual, actually. I ran into Nick in the bathroom, and we got into it.” Now that it was all over, Charlie wasn’t sure whether he was proud of or embarrassed about his bathroom scuffle.
“Nick? Grace’s Nick? Got into what?” Helen was completely confused. Silver Lake had the reputation of being the kind of town where you didn’t need to lock your doors, and at midnight you were as safe on Main Street as you were in your own bed. Apparently that was a falsehood.
“Oh my gosh, Charlie. What happened? Who did this to you?” Grace cried as she walked into the kitchen.
“You should see the other guy.” Charlie, who had never traded punches with anyone in his life outside of the week they learned how to box in PE class in the seventh grade, had always wanted to say that. He tried to smile, reopening the gash in his lip, sending a trickle of fresh blood down his chin.
“That’s hard to believe,” said Grace, although she regretted her words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Telling a guy he didn’t look like someone who could hold his own in a fight was more than a little insulting.
“Thanks, buddy,” Charlie replied, as Vera handed him a bag from the freezer. Unfortunately, Grace didn’t see him as the knight in shining armor, riding to the rescue of the fair maiden.
“We’re out of peas. Are blueberries okay?” Vera was still convinced that a New York strip would be more effective, but she wasn’t in charge.
“Perfect. Thank you, Vera.” Charlie sighed with relief as the icy balls of fruit numbed his throbbing eye.
“So what happened to you?” Grace had a sneaking suspicion that Charlie’s run-in with someone’s fist somehow related to her.
“I saw Nick in the bathroom and we started talking, and the next thing I knew we were rolling around on the floor trying to kill each other.”
“But why? You don’t even know each other, do you? What could you two possibly have to talk about?”
“I may have said something that set him off,” Charlie said.
“Like what?” Feeling like a lawyer trying to tease information out of a reluctant witness, Grace wanted to reach down Charlie’s throat and yank the words out.
Helen interrupted. “Are you sure you don’t need to go the doctor? How do you know you don’t need stitches?”
“I’m fine, Helen. A few minutes with these blueberries and a hot shower and I’ll look like myself again,” Charlie answered.
“Come, Vera, help me find the first aid kit. I think it’s on the top shelf in my bathroom, so you’ll have to reach it for me.” Helen took Vera’s hand and led her out of the kitchen, whispering, “I think they need to talk,” loud enough for both Grace and Charlie to hear her.
“So what did you say that made him want to rearrange your face?” Grace asked again once Helen and Vera were out of earshot.
“I told him he was a loser because he’ll screw anything that moves and he abandoned you when he got you pregnant. Please don’t be angry, Grace. The words just came out. I couldn’t stop them.” How could he explain to her that seeing Nick Salter standing next to him with his dick in his hand, the same dick that had defiled the girl that Charlie was head over heels in love with, was more than he could take?
“Damn it, this is all my fault. Charlie, you don’t have to avenge my lost honor. We’re not living in medieval England.”
“But it’s so unfair. He’s still out partying, having the time of his life, and you’re ….”
“Screwed. True enough, but he’ll get his someday. Good looks and good luck can’t last forever. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.” Revenge fantasies in which Nick lost his junk in a freak masturbation accident, or crazier ones where Nick himself got pregnant, had become a regular part of Grace’s daydream rotation.
“You’re being awfully philosophical about all this. Don’t you want to kill him every time you see him? I don’t even know him and I want to kill him,” Charlie said, fists clenched, wishing he’d landed a second punch in Nick’s mouth, forever ruining the smile that had probably hustled a hundred gullible girls.
“I did, but not anymore. What choice do I have? Ultimately, don’t I have to take responsibility for my own behavior? I can be angry at Nick for being a total creep after I got pregnant, but I’m as much to blame as he is for everything that happened up to that point.”
“But you’re so … and he’s so … from what I hear he’s done it with half the girls in school. Did he know you’d never done it before?”
Grace reddened. “I told him I was still a virgin on our very first date. I knew he had lots of experience, and I didn’t want him to think I knew what I was doing when I didn’t.”
“Then he had no right to lure you into his web when he knew you were a total babe in the woods,” Charlie said, furious at Nick for treating Grace so casually, and annoyed with Grace for not being more worked up about it.
“But I’m not a total moron. I could have just said no, and I didn’t.”
“The fact that you were so innocent probably made him want you even more.” Charlie himself was tremendously attracted to her clear-eyed sweetness, which remained untainted by her growing belly.
“Whatever the reason, I could’ve stopped him if I’d wanted to.” In Grace’s limited experience, it had never occurred to her that sometimes boys didn’t take no for an answer.
“Are you sure about that?” Charlie asked. The vitriol with which Nick had attacked him made Charlie certain that even if Grace had refused him that night by the lake, Nick would have gotten what he wanted no matter what.
“Does it really matter?” Grace was feeling fat and tired, and talking about all the what ifs didn’t change the fact that her feet were killing her and she had to get up three times a night to pee.
“I suppose not.” Part of Charlie — a large part, he hated to admit — wanted Grace’s encounter with Nick to be less about her own desire, whether for Nick himself or simply to belong, and more about Nick’s forcefulness. Even though she would have ended up in the same place, it made her less culpable, innocent in spirit if not body.
“Look, Charlie, I know where you’re going with this. I’m not such a good girl as you think I am. This is all of me, the good and the bad,” Grace said as she spread her arms and thrust out her stomach. Afraid she would be unable to live up to the squeaky-clean image that Charlie seemed determined to have of her, Grace w
as desperate to dispel the mythology. If he could ever love her, he would have to love every facet of her, including the broken, not so shiny bits, and there were lots of them. “I did a bad thing, and now I have to live with the consequences every day, and if you want to be my friend, you’re going to have to live with that wicked, awful, brain-dead part of me too. Don’t you understand that I would do anything to take back that night, take back my virginity that I stupidly threw away so I could feel like I belonged to a group of people I don’t give a flying fuck about?” Exhausted, Grace plopped down on a kitchen chair.
“You’re all good, Grace, and I’m sorry I upset you. I’m just being an idiot. That guy is such an asshole that I can’t imagine the two of you, how you would ever … with him … unless he ….” Even though Charlie’s sexual experience was limited to one girl he had only kind of liked, he still held onto the romantic belief that sex was supposed to be between two people who were actually in love.
“Raped me? No, I was willing. Did you take a good look at him before you tried to bash his face in?” Grace asked, not wanting to make Charlie feel bad by pointing out Nick’s obvious attributes. But he really did need to understand that the choice to do it with Nick had been hers, a stupid, awful, horrendously poor choice made for shallow, ill-considered reasons.
“He’s definitely a good looking guy.” Discussing Nick’s physical gifts was the last thing Charlie wanted to be doing.
“Well, girls aren’t any different than guys when it comes to a beautiful face and a hot body,” Grace pointed out.
Disappointed that no girl would likely ever lose her self-control in his presence, Charlie said, “You just don’t seem like that kind of girl.”
“What kind of girl is that, Charlie? A whore?”
“That’s not what I mean.” Not even sure what he meant anymore, Charlie wished he could put a padlock on his mouth, or at least redirect this conversation so he sounded less like a Neanderthal.
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