by Isobel Irons
Tash is standing next to the mayor’s car, holding a box of donuts and a cup of iced coffee with a lid and a straw condom. She’s got my little sister with her. Gen is wearing pigtail braids with red ribbons, and scowling at Melody. Tash just looks kind of unimpressed.
“Oh, sorry Melody, I didn’t see you there.” She looks down at her hands. “I would’ve brought you a coffee too, but then at the last minute I remembered how I really don’t like you.”
My smile quadruples. I grab my awesome girlfriend and kiss the ever-loving crap out of her, ignoring the waves of annoyance coming off Melody and the grossed out little sister sounds Gen is making. Let people stare. I’ve spent every waking minute of my life caring what everyone thinks, about everything, all the time.
In terms of facing my fears, it’s kind of risky—I’m basically taking on the world, without any kind of safety net. If I fail, I could ruin a national holiday, and lost my job. And probably piss off a whole bunch of clowns. But somehow, with Tash standing next to me, it doesn’t seem so hard. Today, I will take a page out of her book, and I will ‘give zero fucks.’ Because damn it, it’s Independence Day.
When I finally let her go, Melody has already stormed off. “Sorry I’m late,” she says. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, and I missed my alarm. It’s a good thing the Gremlin called and woke me up. She said your parents forgot about her, and she needed a ride to the parade.”
I laugh, looking at Gen. “Mom left you a note on the kitchen counter, dummy. You were still asleep when we left, so she said she’d come back and get you after she finished setting up the firemen’s pancake thing.”
“Oh.” Gen doesn’t look the least bit sorry. “Whoops.”
“It’s okay, I think I’m almost done here. Let me just double check with the volunteer coordinator that everything’s ready, and we’ll all walk down to the fire station together.”
I hurry to track down the lady who’s taking over once the parade starts, and give her my clip board and my cell phone number, just in case anything goes wrong. Then, I go back to find Tash and Gen sitting in the backseat of the mayor’s mint-condition ‘62 Cadillac, pretending to wave like beauty queens.
“Nope, still too nice. Take it from a former, fake prom queen: you’ve got to sneer, like everyone who looks at you is beneath you, then wave like you’re doing them a favor. Like this.” Tash adopts a facial expression that’s a cross between a bank hostage and the Queen of England, then raises her hand and moves it robotically from side to side.
“How about if I pretend like I’m constipated?” Gen mimics Tash’s movement, but with a lot more grimacing and better posture.
“Dude, you’re a natural!” They high-five.
“Are you teaching my sister how to troll people?”
“Maybe I am.” Tash shrugs. “What? She’s going to be a freshman soon. It’s a valuable skill.”
I shake my head, opening the car door. “Alright, anarchists, let’s go before the Mayor’s Spawn gets back and yells at me for letting you touch her dad’s car.”
Giggling, they climb out and follow me.
As Gen books it toward the horses at the far end of the parking lot, Tash grabs my hand. We link our fingers together and walk along through the growing crowd. A few minutes go by before I realize that she’s fallen quiet. Or, at least, quiet for her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she nudges my arm with her shoulder. “Look at you, going straight into damage control mode, Parade Boy.”
“You heard that whole thing?” I cringe. “Great, I bet you’re wondering why I just stood there and took it, right?”
“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I’m actually kind of impressed. If I were you, I definitely would’ve cut a bitch by now.”
I laugh. “It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. But hey, this girl I know, she told me that high school counts for less than ten percent of a person’s life span. So if I think about it that way, this internship is only three months out of approximately nine-hundred months in an average human life span, which means I only have to put up with Melody for 0.003 percent of my life. Ish.”
Now, it’s Tash’s turn to cringe. “Was that actual math you were doing? Because that sounded like math, and I’m pretty sure we agreed to leave that shit behind after graduation. Or, at least I did.”
“Sorry.” I smile, pausing next to a trash can to throw away my straw condom. “So, you’re sure nothing else is bothering you?”
“I don’t know,” she sighs, and we watch my sister inch closer to one of the horses, trying to get up the courage to touch it. “I guess Gen kind of reminds me of Margot a little bit. I’ve been missing her a lot lately, wondering how she’s doing. And I haven’t heard from her in a while. There’s just so much I want to tell her. Plus, we always had this tradition on the Fourth, where we’d sneak up to the rooftop of that apartment complex on 5th and drink hot chocolate laced with Nana’s Peppermint Schnapps.”
I let the coffee straw fall out of mouth, eyes wide. “You didn’t….”
I’m joking, of course. But she shoots me a dirty look and flips me off, anyway. Unfortunately, that’s when my mom shows up.
“Grant, have you seen your sister?” I can tell from her face she’s in worried mom mode, otherwise she would’ve said hello first, like any polite person would. “I just went by the house and she’s gone. I was hoping maybe you came home and got her, but you didn’t leave a note. And I know you would have left a note if you changed the plan, so then I thought—”
“Mom, it’s okay,” I hold my hand up to interrupt her. “Tash picked her up a little bit ago. Gen was so freaked out about missing the parade, I guess she didn’t bother to read your note.”
I look at Tash, expecting her to make a joke, like she normally would. But her face is white, eyes wide. What the…?
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Blue,” Tash stammers. “I didn’t realize you were coming back for her. She said it would be okay. I didn’t mean to mess up the plan.”
The way she’s talking, you’d think she was staring down an angry WWF wrestler, not a middle-aged lady in yoga pants and a ‘Guthrie High Honor Society’ sweatshirt.
“Oh.” My mom stops short, looking over her shoulder at Gen, then back at Tash. “Well, that’s a relief.”
The entire vibe is suddenly awkward. I don’t know if she’s acting weird because Tash started it, or if Tash started acting awkward because of something my mom said or did the last time they saw each other. Which was….
That’s when I realize. Oh crap, I’ve never introduced Tash to my mom. The realization is like a hammer blow to the back of my head. Of course Tash wonders if my mom doesn’t like her. Of course she worries that I’m secretly ashamed of her. Why else would I not have invited her over for dinner, or asked her to hang out with my entire family, before now?
That would be the normal thing to do when you’re dating a girl and getting serious about her, right? Bingo—there lies the problem. It’s not that I’m not serious about Tash; it’s that I’m socially stunted and abnormal.
“Mom,” I say quickly, trying futilely to salvage the situation. “I know I talk about her all the time, but I just realized you’ve never really met each other. This is Natasha Bohner.” I know I sound totally formal and ridiculous, but functioning under pressure is obviously not my strong suit. “And Tash, this is my mom, Nancy.”
Tash holds out her hand, smiling nervously as my mom shakes it. “It’s great to meet you. Sorry about kidnapping your daughter.”
My mom doesn’t seem to realize she’s joking. Her smile is polite, but confused. “Oh, well I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose.”
I put my arm around Tash, hoping to physically reassure her that this isn’t the disaster it seems like. “Anyway, we’re going to go find a spot to watch the parade. Is it okay if we leave Gen with you?”
“Sure, have fun. Just remember, we’re barbecuing at six.” Then, almost as an afterthought, M
om adds, “Oh, and you should come along, Tasha. Unless you have dinner plans with your family.”
I smile gratefully, even as Tash cringes under my arm.
“Thanks,” she smiles, and it’s like she’s channeling Gen’s constipated beauty queen impression from before. “I’m not sure if I can, but um…I’ll check with my mom.”
Suddenly, I’m back in third grade all over again, standing next to my friend Matt after church. ‘Can Grant spend the night at our house mom, please?’ Matt’s mom smiles patiently down at us. ‘Sure, as long as it’s okay with Grant’s parents.’ But I already know my mom’s going to say no.
Mom always said no, and let me pretend she was the bad guy, but really it was because of me. I couldn’t be trusted to spend the night away from home, because other peoples’ bathrooms might not be clean enough. Or they might not have disposable silverware for me to use. Or I might have an attack and scare my friends.
That was more than ten years ago, but I still can’t stop myself from wondering if Tash might be using the same trick, using her mom as an excuse to say no. Because maybe she doesn’t want to come over, or she’s getting sick of spending so much time with me. Maybe I should back off and give her some space.
“We should go,” I say again, repeating myself, awkwardly. “Parade’s going to start soon.”
“Alright, I’ll keep Gen with me. You two have fun.”
Tash smiles tightly. “Okay, you too.”
I tell myself I’m being paranoid, that it’s not a big deal. But deep down, I can’t help thinking, what if? What if Tash gets nervous and says something really inappropriate in front of my mom, and my mom gets offended, and they end up hating each other?
I tell myself I’m thinking crazy, even as I lead Tash down the street, hand in hand like everything is fine. “So, that was kind of awkward.”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t make a joke, though. Just walks along, staring down at the sidewalk.
“Tash, what’s wrong? Are you mad at me?”
“No,” she stops walking and shakes her head, but she won’t look at me. “It’s not you. I totally freaked out back there. I don’t know why, I just….” Her voice wobbles a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone to like me that bad, except you. I won’t lie, it’s a little scary. It’s not…I’m not used to giving a shit, you know?”
I take her face in my hands, tilting her chin up until she finally makes eye contact with me.
“Relax,” I say, even though I can’t do the same. “They’re going to love you. Gen already loves you, and she doesn’t like anyone. I promise. It’s going to be okay. Will you come tonight? Please?”
“You really think she wants me to come? Like, she wasn’t just being polite or whatever? I really don’t want to crash your family thing.”
Honestly, I’m not a hundred percent sure it was a genuine invite, but I’m not going to say that. “Of course she does.”
“Okay….” Her face looks like a little kid’s, when you tell them Santa Claus is real. Deep down, they suspect you might be lying, but they want to believe it so bad, so they do. “If you’re sure, I guess I’ll come, then.”
“Excellent.” I kiss her, so she doesn’t see how nervous I suddenly am. My brain is already jumping forward through the day, past the parade, past the town carnival, hyper-analyzing everything that could go wrong during dinner. Even though today was going to be the day I stopped caring about what other people thought of me.
The problem is, in the mind of a teenager, parents don’t really count as people.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What do you mean, the Goldens are coming too?”
“Just what I said, Grant.” My mom’s voice is patient, but I’m pretty sure she’s rolling her eyes at me when I’m not looking. I’m on the verge of hyperventilating and passing out in the kitchen, but she’s acting like it’s an everyday thing, like we have people over all the time. “Your father ran into him at the carnival, and he started saying all these nice things about you and what a great job you were doing. And apparently they had a few beers and started playing ring toss, and when the mayor said his wife was out of town and they were going to order pizza, your father invited him and his daughter to barbeque with us. It’s the Fourth of July. They can’t eat pizza; that would be unpatriotic.”
“You’re kidding me.” I can’t seem to stop shaking my head. This can’t be happening. Only in a small town could this actually happen.
“It’s going to be fine, sweetheart.” She steps around me, knife and cutting board in hand, and dumps a bunch of lettuce into the sink. Then she pours in veggie soap and washes it thoroughly, making sure I can see her do it. “We’re going to be eating outside, so everyone will be using disposable plates—not just you. Then, after dinner we’re going straight over to the school to watch the fireworks. You don’t even have to sit with us, if you don’t want to. Honestly, I thought you’d be happy. This way, your father will get a chance to see how much happier you are at this new internship than if you’d gone to Duke.”
As always, my mom is right. The problem is, she doesn’t know that the mayor’s daughter is a manipulative hell spawn who’s out to get me. And now she’s been invited into our house. Maybe she’s like a vampire, and that’s all the invitation she needs to come in whenever. I’m doomed.
“Now, can you stop overreacting and cut the carrots, please?”
I move over to the other sink and wash my hands in scalding hot water. The pain makes me feel a little better, like I can feel the germs dying on my skin as I boil them to death. I dry my hands with a paper towel, then use the sanitizer by the sink.
“When are they coming?” Maybe I can sneak out before they get here, or ‘accidentally’ slice my hand open with a knife and go to the ER to get out of what is sure to be the most uncomfortable, high-pressure family dinner we’ve ever had.
“They should be here any minute,” my mom says. “What time is Tash coming?”
My hand slips, and a piece of carrot goes rocketing across the kitchen.
Oh God, Tash.
About an hour ago, I dropped her off at her house because she said she wanted to change before dinner. She said she’d drive herself over around quarter to six. I look at the clock. That’s in less than ten minutes. If I don’t at least call to warn her, she’s going to feel like she’s walked into a trap.
Who am I kidding? I live here, and I feel like I’ve walked into a trap. Or some twisted reality TV show called ‘Let’s Give the OCD Guy a Heart-Attack.’
“Mom, I’ll be right back.”
Setting the knife down on the counter, I race out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room, where I left my phone. I shut the door behind me, then run into my bathroom and wash my hands again. Then I go back into my room and pick up my cell phone and dial Tash.
She answers on the first ring. “Grant?”
“Hey don’t get mad,” I say, while at the exact same time, she says, “I can’t come.”
“Wait, what?”
“I’m sorry. Something came up.”
She sounds upset, but not the kind of upset she’d be if I told her we had to have dinner with Melody.
“Why, what happened?”
“It’s just…my mom.” Tash makes a sound in her throat, like she’s choking and laughing at the same time. “She was getting ready to leave, and I made the mistake of bringing up the whole ‘Shelly’ thing. Anyway, it turns out she’s been waitressing down at this seedy biker bar on the highway for like, six months. She didn’t want to tell me about it, so this whole time I’ve been giving her shit about dating this guy from work, but really she’s been working her ass off to put all the money back into my college fund.” Instead of sounding happy, her voice is practically dripping with bitterness. “Anyway, it turns out that I’m a gigantic asshole, and my mom is basically a glorified Hooters girl—who actually gives a shit about me, to some extent. Which is…unexpected. Also, I spilled coffee on my most respectable dress, and I
hate everything else in my closet.”
I’m trying to process everything she just said, but it’s a lot. “Are you…are you okay? Do you want me to come over?”
“No,” she says, too quickly. “I mean, I’ll be okay. I know I’m overreacting, and it’s not really like me, but I can’t seem to stop crying. I’ll get over it, though, I promise. This is actually good news. I’m just being stupid.”
I don’t believe her. I try to imagine what it would be like to find out my parents were lying to me about something that big, but I can’t. I definitely understand guilt, though, and the way it can eat away at you if you let it.
“Tash….”
“Seriously, don’t come,” she says, more firmly this time. I picture her squaring her shoulders, taking a deep breath, willing herself to be superhumanly strong. She laughs. “I’ll feel even worse if you bail on your totally functional family just because mine is dysfunctional.”
“They won’t mind,” I say. It’s a lie. I wrack my brain for an excuse I could use, something dire enough to rationalize leaving my parents and my little sister alone with Mayor Patrick and Melody. But I can’t think of anything. “Actually, speaking of unexpected things happening….”
Downstairs, the doorbell rings, and I flinch. It’s too late to sneak out. They’re here.
“Shit, hang on.” In the background, I can hear Tash opening and shutting doors. “Sorry, I thought someone was at the door. Anyway, I think I’m just going to go to bed, but I promise I’ll call you in the morning. Have fun with your parents, and please tell them…I don’t know, tell them I ate some bad hot dogs at the carnival or something. It won’t really be a total lie, because I do kind of feel like death right now. My eyes are all swollen and everything.”
When I picked up the phone, I had every intention of complaining to Tash about Melody and the mayor, but now it seems kind of unfair to talk about my stupid problems. Sure, it would’ve been nice to have her by my side, to give me the strength to get through this horrible dinner. But maybe that’s the problem—I’ve been selfish. I want her with me because I need her to feel normal. I want her to be happy because she makes me happy. I want my parents to like her so my life will be easier.
