“Nick,” Thad interrupted as he motioned toward the door, but the well-intended gesture was futile as it was incomprehensible.
Nick had sat next to Kate’s bedside mulling over this long awaited encounter. He raged repeatedly and uncharacteristically inside his own head, over and over. He was not about to be cut off or let the moment pass without his having had his say. With his back to the door, Nick said disgustedly, “Kate’s white trash family has already done enough to ruin this wedding. She doesn’t need you icing the cake.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Then what the hell were you thinking telling Chelsea that Vange and I messed around last night?”
“It was a mistake, I’m sorry.”
“Kate’s a basket case as it is, and now that self-righteous, joyless bitch is breathing down my neck to tell Kate what’s none of her business. Kate doesn’t need any more drama right now, so you’d better have a talk with Chelsea.”
Thad lifted his hands in protest. “But Nick –
“Does what I just said make any sense to you at all?” Nick was growing increasingly desperate to get his point across, and he was intent on making it by any means necessary. “What will it take to get through to you? What if I told Kate about the time you made that drunken pass at me? And don’t even try to deny it, you little closet case.”
“Uh, Nick, um.” Thad remained flustered and speechless as mounting fear reflected clearly in his horror-filled eyes. He again motioned at the door and shook his head anxiously, but he could not make it evident enough that something was seriously wrong.
“Oh, it’s different now, is it, when the shoe’s on the other foot?” Nick asked. “I always thought you were a helluva guy, Thad, really unique and special. I don’t think it’s asking too much that you be reasonable.”
Thad was struck mute. To encourage a response, Nick placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. With sympathetic understanding shimmering in his eyes, Nick said, “Have a little empathy. Don’t say anything, okay?”
Leaning against the threshold of Evangelica’s hospital room door, Kate stood with her arms crossed. She cleared her throat and said, “He doesn’t have to say a thing, Nick. Because you’ve just said it all.”
“K-Katie,” Nick stammered in shock. His eyes widened in terror as he tightened his death grip on Thad’s shoulder.
Calculatedly looking past him, as if she were counting the ceiling tiles above his head, Kate said calmly, “You’d better go now.” She was still wearing her dead mother’s too large, but tasteful mail order dress. Shoeless, she appeared petite and vulnerable.
“Kate, I think we need to talk,” Nick said. He was genuinely unnerved by her resolute calm and apparent indifference.
“I think you’ve already said everything there is to say.”
Nick remained frozen in the same position she found him. His grip on Thad’s shoulder grew excruciatingly tight; although he winced in pain, Thad made no effort to move.
With her arms folded, Kate said off-handily with calibrated coldness, “You screwed her, and she tried to kill herself. Now she’s in a coma, what more needs to be said?”
“Katie—
“Please, Nick, go away,” she whispered as if afraid of rousing her comatose stepsister. Kate’s trembling hands reached for her own temples, and she pulled her tousled hair away from her sleepy face. Her bloodshot eyes were encircled with purple rings, and her deliberate, calmness made her appear disconnected from reality. “Please, get out of here, or I’ll leave.”
“You don’t want to do that, Katie. We need to talk this through,” Nick said with a trace of hope, but she turned away and left the room without looking back. With Thad’s shoulder still gripped in his hand, Nick pulled him close and spat furiously, “Now look what you’ve done.”
Thad struggled to free himself from Nick’s grip, and the bed was jarred in the process. Evangelica’s hand slipped off her chest and dangled limply off the mattress. They jumped back as if they had disturbed a resting corpse, but then Nick pushed Thad so hard it sent him reeling backwards onto the floor. Although Nick was larger, Thad had never seen him so angry as to touch anyone in an overtly violent manner. Visibly shaken Thad stumbled to his feet and brushed himself off as he watched Nick charge from the room.
Across the hallway, Kate searched her purse to find her set of keys, and Nick remained cautiously hopeful blocking the doorway. Increasingly frustrated, Kate dumped the contents of her handbag on the floor and searched for the keys on all fours. Approaching her with trepidation, he carefully placed his hands on the back of her shoulders, but she shirked away from his nausea-inducing touch.
He reached out for her, but Kate tore away and snapped, “Don’t you dare come near me.”
“You’ve got to listen,” Nick said.
“The hell I do,” she whispered loudly, and her voice cracked. She snatched up her keys and scrambled for the door. “Like hell I have to listen to you.”
“Honey, wait,” Nick begged. He lunged for her and attempted to pull her close, but she squirmed from his arms and grappled for the doorway. Then she did something he was fully unprepared for, she whirled around and charged at him with all her might.
“You just stay the hell away from me,” Kate blurted. “Don’t you come near me, don’t follow me, and don’t try see or touch me ever again.”
She ran through the long corridor leading to the hospital Emergency exit. Racing behind her, his footsteps pounded as he narrowed the gap in close pursuit.
Thad followed Nick who pursued Kate, and he remained standing on the curb of the parking lot where he watched her climb into the Jeep Wrangler. Nick flung open the passenger door and called out her name. He attempted to board the moving vehicle, but she sped away with the door flailing open. As she tore out of the parking lot, a loud screeching noise echoed in the rainy darkness.
Without looking back, Nick started on foot in the direction of the speeding Jeep.
Once in his car, Thad lit a cigarette and pulled up next to the solitary roadside figure and opened the door for him, but Nick continued walking without offering even a sideways glance at the moving car. Nick then kicked a dent in the car door as he slammed it shut with his foot.
Nick vowed menacingly, “If anything happens to her, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
Thad stopped the car and rolled down the window. “Here take this,” Thad offered a cigarette to the reluctant pedestrian. Nick accepted the peace offering and waved him onwards. Thad refused to drive away until Nick finally climbed into the vehicle.
They drove in tense silence as Thad pursued any one of a multitude of destinations Kate may have feasibly fled. At every stop sign, Thad appeared to be in pain as if the most basic decision, right or left, was too difficult to fathom. The slowly creeping Datsun and its indecisive driver quickly wore on Nick’s nerves.
“It’s too bad you had to witness that scene,” Nick said, letting the passing minutes alleviate the tension between them.
“It’s okay,” Thad mumbled. His car was stopped under Portnorth’s only traffic light, and despite prodding car honks from behind, Thad was unsure which direction to pursue.
“What’s wrong with you?” Nick asked. “Turn left.”
“Sorry,” Thad said, and he accelerated with a flourish in the direction of the lakeside park.
“You’re so passive, it’s irritating.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Nick said, and he cringed as Thad reticently pulled up to yet another stop sign. “Would you rather I drive?”
“No. I’m sorry,” Thad said again. He lit two cigarettes and handed one to Nick.
“You’ve got big problems,” Nick said as he accepted the smoke. “Thanks.”
“I have problems?”
“You’re too cynical, Thad. I don’t think you’re ever sincere. Don’t you have any dreams?”
“They’re not so different than yours.”
“It’s
sad. You’re sad. It doesn’t seem you have any dreams, none at all whatsoever,” Nick said with a sigh. “Why the Christ are we parked? Go past the beach.”
Swerving over the centerline, Thad looked over at his flustered passenger and remarked, “I could almost kiss you right now.”
“See, what I mean – everything’s a freaking joke with you,” Nick said impatient as he pitched the cigarette out the window.
As they drove past the lakeside park, Thad remained quiet, and Nick thanked him again for the ride and smokes. There was no sign of Kate anywhere. The decrepit Datsun was traversing along so slowly Kate could have very well driven off the boat harbor pier into Lake Huron, and her body could have washed halfway to Canada.
“That’s what’s so great about you, Nick,” Thad said, “you’re always so sincere, it’s almost embarrassing.”
“Well, at least my whole life isn’t one big joke.”
“It isn’t?” Thad inquired, and he pulled into Kate’s father’s driveway. All the lights were on in the house, but it appeared no one was home. Thad unintentionally dropped Nick off at the least likely place Kate would have ever gone to of her own free will, even if her life depended on it.
Nick thanked Thad again for the ride, and he reassured him everything would be worked out once he found Kate. After saying their goodbyes, Nick grabbed Thad by the nape of the neck, shook him firmly and gave him a light slug on the shoulder. Thad punched Nick gently on the thigh and smiled awkwardly.
“What?” Nick asked
“Good luck,” Thad said, “you’ll need it.” And he gave Nick a shove toward the door.
Nick remained in the car for a few uncomfortable moments, looking sad and questioning and then he slowly exited the vehicle. As Thad drove away, Nick hung out alone in the deserted, rain-drenched driveway wondering what to do next.
chapter fourteen
Jack pointed skyward. “There’s the big dipper.”
Unimpressed, Tristana said, “Anyone can find the big dipper.” His head rested on her bare stomach, and she raked her fingers through his dirty blond, tangled hair.
“Orion’s over there,” Jack said, and he wrongly indicated the cluster of stars he guessed comprised the constellation of Orion.
“You’re full of shit,” Tristana said. She guided his face close to her own, gazed into his slate gray eyes and whispered, “But you’re pretty good for a virgin.”
“Who said I’m a virgin?” he asked, secretly satisfied he managed to please at least one person in his short lifetime, even if it was some freaked out Goth chick who would become his sister in-law tomorrow after the wedding ceremony.
As they lay in silence, he recalled that a mere forty minutes ago they had a played a game of strip hide-n-seek. She sprung the idea on him when his frightened, anticipating prick suffered a case of performance anxiety. To remedy that small obstacle, Tristana suggested she chase him through the hallowed halls of the abandoned junior high.
Vacant classrooms, dusty hallways, and forgotten nooks and crannies provided abundant opportunities to lose and find each other again and again in the moonlit darkness. The expansive structure was a decaying relic and testimony to the pride Portnorth once took in educating its youth. At one time, the town must have seemed more connected to a world greater than its three-mile radius. The deteriorating spacious school was centrally located near Main Street, but its colorful murals and shiny varnished surfaces had long since been abandoned for a gloomy, one-story complex along the highway on the outskirts of town.
When her It Boy finally became comfortable with his enviable fate, Tristana chased him into the planetarium where their game was consummated upon his capture.
In the stagnant circular domed room, they rolled across the filthy floor under a simulated night sky. Whenever Jack felt the urge to explode within the slithering condom, he gazed out into the empty seats and imagined the slick, zitty class of 1958 studying them intently. As Jack found his way deep inside her, they melded into one another moving to the rhythm of a wholesomely pure, mutually unadulterated need.
Jack simultaneously kneaded her arching back and mouthed her augmented breasts, while she drank up the sweat cascading over the scars etched across his chest. Only when she had taken him into the recesses of her enveloping wetness, deeper than he had ever imagined possible, did he burst to the sounds of her moans. As tiny particles of himself exploded inside of her, he registered the stampeding cheers of the class of ’58. Greasers, squares, bobbysoxers, and beatniks leapt to their feet and applauded the spectacle before them; this was one planetarium show that well exceeded their wildest expectations.
Lounging comfortably in one another’s arms, Jack and Tristana wondered aloud what had happened to Alexa. Eons had passed since their last having heard her footsteps.
“Alexa upset you earlier on the beach, didn’t she?”
Jack shrugged noncommittally, “Yeah, I guess so. She spazzes out at times.”
Tristana lit a clove cigarette, and said, “I think she’s truly beautiful, a one-of-a-kind original.”
“She’s one of a kind all right, a one of a kind freak,” Jack said. “She wigged me out, screaming about how we let her drown.”
“Is it because of your mom dying and all?” Tristana asked, and his trickling stream of kisses dried up on her tattooed left breast. “Is that why you were so afraid?”
“I wasn’t scared. I’m not afraid of nothing.”
“Sure you were. What about those twins who’re stalking you, aren’t you afraid of them?” she asked, and his face grew ashen with fear. “You were driving during that accident that killed your prom date, weren’t you?”
Jack shook his head and looked to the simulated stars; it was as if someone had scraped Jules Czerwinski off the car hood and plastered her to the ceiling.
“I knew it.”
“It’s nothing I’m proud of,” he said, knowing full well he would be in jail if Alexa had not been there to corroborate his story. “It was Alexa who insisted Jules was driving.”
“That was nice of her. Were you drunk?”
“Not really. It was a car-deer accident, that’s all.”
“What about the lunatic asylum they locked you up in? Were you frightened in there?” Tristana asked, perversely interested in the subject. “What was spin in the bin all about?”
“Oh, it was great, especially the bingo on Sundays,” Jack quipped sarcastically.
“Did you meet any crazies?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions.”
“It’s called pillow talk, get used to it. It’s a post-sex, girl thing. What did you do for fun in the nut-hut? Sit around and carve each other up?” she asked as she traced her index finger over the razor blade etchings across his chest.
“The only fun was slugging the attendants because they weren’t allowed to hit back,” Jack said. Lying prone on his back, he rolled away from her and rested his chin on his fists. He asked exasperated, “Is that why you slept with me? Out of pity? Because I’m a juvenile delinquent with a dead mother and a dead girl friend, who was locked away in an insane asylum?”
“Trust me, there are worse reasons.”
“So, what, you feel sorry for me?”
“If I felt sorry for you, I would’ve sent you a sympathy card,” Tristana said snickering. Amused by her own sarcasm, she inhaled on her clove cigarette and explained casually, “I fucked you because I’m a slut.”
“No, seriously?” Jack asked. He sat upright and wrapped his arms around his knees.
“Isn’t that what sluts do, fuck anyone and everyone indiscriminately?”
Jack admired her too-lean body, luminescent in the darkness. She lay alongside him, and he ran his fingers across her bony clavicle. Everything about her suggested lack of nourishment, everything except her unnaturally full breasts, which spilled onto the floor. “Do you really think you’re a slut?”
“Everyone does,” she said flatly. With her chin resting on his knee, she blew on the dow
ny hairs covering his thigh. “I guess people find it’s unacceptable to enjoy sex with every man you meet.”
“Were you molested?”
“You’re very perceptive.”
“By your dad?”
“Hell no,” she said. “The who is not so significant.”
“Am I just anybody?”
“I guess so, except we’ll be related after tomorrow,” Tristana said gratefully. She ran her hand down his calves and across his toes. “You’re not the first naked stranger that I’ve unloaded my dysfunctional sexual history on.”
“Didn’t you tell anyone when it happened?”
Tristana stubbed out a cigarette onto the hardwood floor, and she rose to her feet. He watched as her long legs stepped into her stockings and she searched for her bra. “Sure, I told God all the time, and I begged him to make it stop.”
“No, I mean a real person.”
“Isn’t God real? I guess not. Who would’ve believed me? After all, I did have the biggest tits in the sixth grade. One day, I just figured, what the hell, why not reap some benefits of being called a slut.”
“There are benefits?”
“Sure, sex feels good, doesn’t it?” she asked. “On my deathbed, it’s doubtful I’ll regret ever feeling good.”
“Do you ever want only one boyfriend?”
She laughed out loud and clapped her hands, which pressed her breasts together. “Forgive me, I’m being trite,” she said sincerely. “It’s just that I’m too much for most men; they view me as an ultimate conquest, but then they don’t quite know what to do with me.”
“That’s sad.”
“No, that’s life. It’s the reason for all this Goth shit. I can’t put enough distance between me and the person I once thought I was.”
“Is that why you changed your name?”
“Because I was molested?” Tristana asked. “No, it was because I didn’t like the name Nanette. It sounds like miniature Nan, that’s all. Honest.”
Trying the Knot Page 22
