Things Change

by Patrick Jones

  "Hello?" Kara said.

  "Kara, hi, it's Johanna." There was a second of silence. Did she not know who I was?

  "Wait a second; I've got Brad on the other line."

  This was my chance. I could hang up, forget the whole thing. Pretend it never happened.

  "I'm here."

  "That was quick," I commented.

  "Brad's like the Terminator. He'll be back."

  I laughed. "How are you doing?" What a question. I could do better than that.

  "Fine."

  "Surprised to hear from me?" I sensed her discomfort, or at least slight confusion.

  "Did you call to wish me a Merry Christmas?" Kara asked.

  "Sure, but I didn't get you a present." Stupid. Could I say any more dumb things? I was going for a world record.

  "That's cool, because I didn't get you one, either."

  "Well, would you like to get me a present by doing me a really big favor? Can we talk?"

  "We are talking." Kara was catching on to my cat-and-mouse games; I just didn't trust her enough yet. "Oh, you mean like talk, talk."

  "Kara, this is hard." I wondered if she could hear me gnaw away a good portion of the thumbnail on my left hand.

  "What's up?"

  "You see, my grandparents are away in Florida, and I have a key to their house."

  "So?"

  "So, Paul wants to come over and—"

  "So, what, you can't decide whether the two of you are going to finally—"

  I took a deep breath. I obviously didn't have any secrets: My words went from Paul to Brad to Kara, but still I had to say it aloud. "No, I've decided what I am going to do. I mean, what we're going to do."

  "Then I don't know what—"

  "I need some excuse to get out of my house for the night. I want us to spend the night together. I guess that's silly."

  "No, that's really sweet," Kara replied. "So you thought maybe I could—"

  "Kara, I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry to have bothered you." I was trying to figure out how I was going to avoid seeing her the rest of the school year. This was just too embarrassing.

  "No, wait up."

  The line went dead for a second. I reached up and turned off the light in the kitchen. Conversations like this belonged in the dark.

  "Okay, I got it!" Kara, normally so laid-back, sounded positively animated. "I pick you up like we're going to a movie. You call your parents from my house and tell them you're spending the night over at my house, some slumber-party bull. Then I drop you back at your grandparent's house and get you in the morning."

  "What if they call for me at your house?" I quickly countered.

  "Okay, wait a second." She sounded like she was pacing. "I'll give you my cell, and you just give them the number. They won't call, but just in case."

  "How do you know they won't call?"

  "Because they trust you. They don't even want to imagine something like this."

  "Thanks, Kara." I was amazed. If she could solve tricky calculus problems like she solved my issue, she would have been first in her class. I had really misjudged her. "You know, I'm going to miss seeing so much of you once Brad goes to California."

  "Well, maybe when Brad comes home. I guess you got lucky, now that Paul isn't going away to Stanford. The two of you can stay together all next year."

  "What?" It was like 20,000 volts hit me. Paul wasn't going to Stanford? After that big scene before Thanksgiving and all that talk, he was staying?

  "You mean Paul didn't tell you?" Kara asked.

  "No!" My heart was racing: anger in one lane, happiness in the other.

  "Looks like I screwed up. I'm sorry. I didn't know you didn't know," Kara said. She sounded mortified, but I wasn't mad at her.

  "But he told you?"

  "He told Brad that he didn't have the money to go away. Brad said he sounded pretty depressed about the whole thing. You know, that was all they talked about, moving to California together. Brad is torn up about it. He is so emotional, and he can't hide anything from me."

  "Why didn't Paul tell me?" I was asking both her and myself the same question.

  "Maybe he's embarrassed because he doesn't have the money. But this is good for you."

  "Of course, I want him to stay here, but I know how bad he wants to leave."

  "Everybody wants to leave Pontiac, everybody but me," Kara said.

  "Kara, do you love Brad?" I had to take a chance to reach out to her and really connect.

  "All my heart."

  "Then how can you let him leave next year?" I asked, always thinking ahead.

  For at least a minute I heard no sound but the furnace kicking on.

  Finally she said, "I guess love isn't enough sometimes."

  I mouthed the words, staring down at my notebooks covered with Paul's name. I was just a stupid girl with this naive crush; Kara was already a woman. Was I that innocent, or was she that ice-cold? I had to know. "But you could ask him to stay, couldn't you?"

  "You're a smart girl, but if you think like that, you're going to get hurt, hurt real bad."

  She had me pegged. For someone I had thought wasn't that bright, Kara impressed me, while I was equally unimpressed with my immaturity. I figured I might as well use it. "I guess I'm a little afraid about tonight, that's all."

  "Is this going to be your first—"

  "First time." I let out a deep breath, saying those words was like lifting some weight.

  "Well, you're already cooler about it than I was. I was, like, totally freaked. I heard these horror stories from friends and almost chickened out. Just make sure Paul listens to you. You gotta let him know stuff, you know what I mean?"

  "Was Brad gentle for your first time?"

  "He was cool, but he wasn't my first." Kara sounded indifferent to discussing the intimate details of her life.

  "Oh."

  "Don't be afraid or worried. You got some B.C.?"

  "B.C.?"

  "You know, birth control?"

  "Paul is going to—"

  "Good, don't end up like my friend Shana. She got a real Christmas present last year, if you know what I mean."

  "Kara, does it hurt?"

  "It's like anything—you gotta do it for the first time, like waterskiing I guess."

  "I almost broke my leg the first time I went water-skiing." I recalled the image of my prescription goggles flying in the air, the skis flying over my head, and my butt smacking the water with enough force to cause a tidal wave on the beach.

  Kara laughed. "Well, like you'd really have to do it wrong for that to happen."

  "Can you do it wrong?" I didn't mean to say it aloud, but I was glad I did.

  "No, but it's not like some 'SinnyMax' movie. Just don't do anything you don't want to or that hurts too much. You have to draw some lines, I guess."

  I couldn't believe it; I thought I had finally crossed all the lines, but Kara was telling me there were still more. I felt an urge to run back to the library and get that book in case I needed a reference at the ready. "How do you know?"

  "You just do. God, listen to me talk," Kara sighed. "I sound like Cosmo magazine come to life. What you must think—"

  "I think a lot of you for talking to me about this. You gave me some stuff to think about."

  "Hey, I made the smart girl think! Maybe that was my Christmas present." Kara laughed, but I was mute.

  She finally broke the silence. "Johanna, are you still there?"

  "I'm here," I said.

  "So, Johanna, is it on or off?"

  SEVENTEEN

  The house was mostly dark; I had set out only a few candles. Kara was right; my parents bought everything I was selling. When she dropped me off at my grandparents' house, she even gave me a little hug before I got out of the car.

  I didn't realize that Paul had arrived. I had asked him to keep the music down, the windows rolled up, and to dim his lights when he pulled in the driveway. He lightly tapped on the door leading from the garage. I shut my eyes,
trying to clear my mind, then let him in.

  "Candles? Very nice," Paul said, walking in the door. "Looks like a church in here. Should I get down on my knees, or does that come later?"

  "Maybe this way the neighbors won't notice," I said, quickly closing the door behind him. He took off his leather jacket and walked into the living room.

  "I bought you something," Paul said, producing a Baskin-Robbins bag.

  "Thank you." I took the bag and started for the kitchen.

  "And I bought us something," he said, pulling a box of condoms from a brown bag. "These, by the way, do not go in the freezer."

  I blushed, but quickly recovered with a raised eyebrow. "I assume you know where they do go?"

  "If not, then I'll just have to practice until I get it right," he joked. "You look great."

  I was wearing a new white sweater. Kara had talked me into going shopping before dropping me off. She was a maniac in the store, trying on outfits herself and suggesting ones for me. She was really pushing for this one dress: It was a long sleeveless blood-red gown. I had to talk my way out of not only buying it but even trying it on in front of her. That night at Santi's when Paul hurt my wrist wasn't the exception; it was becoming the rule. It seemed like he was always touching me: Sometimes a good touch, like tonight I hoped; but other times the touch wasn't soft. He would push me, grab my arms, jab his finger into me, or swat my arms and legs. It was a good thing it was winter; I could hide my black-and-blue skin under heavy sweaters. I just had to avoid clothes shopping with Kara, and I'd be okay.

  "Want to look around?" I asked Paul.

  "Up and down and all around," he said, forcing another laugh out of me.

  I picked up one of the candles, and we walked down the hallway. When we walked by my grandparents' bedroom on the first floor, Paul grabbed my hand and started in the room.

  "Not here," I said softly. That would be just too weird. We walked up the stairs to a smaller bedroom on the second floor. I set the candle down on the small wooden table next to the bed, then took off my glasses, setting them on the table as well.

  "Is the smoke from the candles bothering you?" Paul sat down on the bed. "It shouldn't. With your mom's habit, you probably secondhand smoke a pack a day."

  I laughed, but then stepped away from him, walking over to the far wall. I touched the wallpaper. "When I was growing up, my parents were struggling a little. They worked lots of extra hours to get ahead, so I spent a lot of time here. I remember spending the night here so many times, but I was just a little girl then. It seems like a long time ago. And now—"

  "Joha, come over here and climb in," Paul whispered as he pointed to the bed.

  He was sitting on the edge of the bed; the candle behind him made him look like he was sparkling. I wished I was more like Paul. When he got angry, he screamed, and when he was happy, you could hear it in his voice. For me every emotion bore tears. All these years I have been waiting for someone like Paul to tell me it was okay to cry; tell me, like Paul always did, that "everything was going to okay;" and wipe my tears away.

  I pulled my sweater off and set it carefully on the dresser. I didn't look at Paul during any of this; I looked at the floor, avoiding his eyes because I was embarrassed. I thought I heard him sigh.

  "Joha, my back hurts. Would you rub it?" Paul took his sweatshirt off and tossed it on the floor.

  I walked over toward the bed, bending down to blow out the candles.

  "I would love to," I said, lying down on the bed next to him. "And I love you."

  The morning was beautiful and clear, which disappointed me. I had hoped that during the night a terrible snowstorm would cover the city, trapping us in the house. We would be trapped where no one could reach us: not my parents, not Brad, not Kara, no one at all. Instead, the snow would cover the city, forcing us to huddle underneath the blankets to stay warm.

  Last night, after the first time, Paul crawled out of bed and went into the kitchen. We sat up in bed eating chocolate-chip ice cream, laughing, and then made love again. I woke up once during the night, even though I didn't think I would ever get to sleep. My heart was beating so loudly, I thought the neighbors could have heard it. I woke up and was totally disoriented. I lay there listening to Paul's breathing, my heart beating in time. He would breathe in; I would breathe out. I lay staring at the ceiling, my eyes and mind both wide open. Was he satisfied? How long was it supposed to last? Why did this change everything between people? Why did it have to hurt like this?

  I must have fallen back to sleep because I was startled awake by the alarm.

  "What time is it?" Paul sat up in bed.

  I put on my glasses and looked at the clock. "Almost nine. Kara's here in an hour."

  I pulled the blankets up around me; I was freezing. "Can't we stay longer?" Paul asked.

  Paul lay back down, pressing his naked body up against mine. He traced the outline of my body with his right hand. "Paul, we have to get ready to go."

  Paul's arm came out from under the covers, reaching across me. He fumbled around on the table, plucking a condom from the box. "Come on, just once more."

  "Really, Paul, no."

  "Everything is going to be okay, trust me," Paul said in that reassuring tone that I had become so accustomed to and even so dependent upon. But I just couldn't.

  "Paul, I'm a little sore."

  "The doctor is in the house," Paul said, then tucked his head under the covers. "Let me try the classic prescription of kissing it and making it all better."

  "Not now," I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my arms and held them down. I finally managed to kick my legs out, pulling the covers with me. I landed on the floor with a thud.

  "Come here!" He wasn't putting his arms out to welcome me like last night; instead, he was reaching down trying to grab me and pull me back into the bed.

  "Paul, please," I said weakly.

  Paul sat up in bed. "What's wrong?"

  I crawled back over toward the bed, the blanket tight around me. I kissed his hand, which was dangling off the bed. "We'll have lots of time. Just not now, okay."

  "When are your grandparents due back from this Florida trip?

  "Nine more days."

  Paul bounced off the bed, landing on the floor next to me. He brushed up against me, then snuck his arm under the blanket. "That's good, because I want to do this again and again and again."

  I poked him in the belly. "Casanova, I'm sure we'll work something out."

  "Work!" Paul's head snapped back, like I had punched him in the gut.

  "Is something wrong?" I asked.

  "I have to work ten hours every day during break. When I'm not at work, I gotta do a stupid Moby Dick paper for English class. You wanna write it for me?"

  I laughed; I didn't think he was serious. "How much you gonna pay me?"

  He flicked his fingers across my lips. "I don't know; maybe we could work out a barter system. You do for me, and I do for you."

  "We'll see about that."

  "Hey, let's take a shower," Paul said as he tried to pull the covers off of me.

  "Okay, but turn around first, please," I requested.

  "What?"

  "Turn around while I go into the bathroom," I said softly.

  "So now you're the funny one. Some joke," Paul said with a laugh.

  "Please."

  "I don't think so. Do you know how long I've wanted to see you like this?"

  "Paul, I'm serious," I said, trying to avoid looking him in the eye.

  "Well, you need to yuk it up then." Paul shrugged his shoulders, then ripped the blankets off of me. He dove on top of me and started tickling me. He was laughing; I wasn't.

  I pushed his hands away. "Stop it."

  "Fine, just forget it," he said as he jabbed his finger hard into my shoulder. I ran into the bathroom, picking up his sweatshirt on the way.

  No sooner had I caught my breath than Paul pounded on the door. "Come on out here!"

  As I started to op
en the door I heard a loud noise that sounded like Paul giving a piece of my grandparents' furniture a stiff kick.

  "I'm sorry," I started. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

  Paul put on his jeans and sat on the bed. "We don't have much time, that's all. It's not like I'm going to be here forever."

  "What do you mean?" I asked as I stepped out of the bathroom and next to the bed.

  "I'll be leaving for Stanford soon. It's not that far away," Paul said.

  I started to correct him. I had been waiting for him to bring the subject up ever since my conversation with Kara. The timing of this was giving me an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

  "Joha, sometimes I wish I wasn't going away." He pulled me down on the bed next to him. "I hate to go because I feel so close to you, especially after last night."

  I felt like I was being prompted to say something, something like "please don't go," but the words would not come.

  He reached over to the table. He picked up his glasses and put them on. He hugged me. Then he took his class ring and put it on the ring finger of my left hand. "I think last night changed things, don't you?"

  I buried my face in his shoulder, hoping those words were true. Hoping that now, every touch from Paul would be soft and loving. "Paul, I would miss you if you went away, but I know that is what you want. If you stayed here, you would hate it and eventually hate me."

  "I could never hate you," he said, pulling me tight against him. "Besides, it's only for one year, then you could join me at Stanford."

  I pulled away from Paul; this was way too much for me. I had spent a lot of time hearing about Paul and Brad's California plans, but we never talked about mine. My parents were convinced I was headed to the University of Michigan to become an engineer, just like my dad; but those weren't my dreams. I was set on the school of journalism at Columbia in New York. I had yet to tell Paul or my parents about my dreams.

  "Think about it, you and me, Brad and Kara, all living out California way."

  "I don't think Kara is going to California with Brad."

  "I think that's a big mistake. A big mistake. They should be together."