Crash and Burn

by Michael Hassan

  Now, trust me on this, if you ever felt like you were the only one in the world who could do something that no one else could do, could you possibly not do it? This is exactly how I felt when I took back my cell phone. And by then of course there were already like thirty calls from Maddy, and now those were easy to ignore, because all I could think about was Roxanne and me saving her again.

  So I dialed Roxanne’s number, and as soon as she hears my voice, she says this:

  “Crashinsky. Let me guess what you’re calling for.” With her voice sounding nothing at all like the depressed version that Burn was describing. In fact, she sounded like the super-sarcastic Roxanne that I was used to.

  “It’s not what you think,” I said, genuinely concerned.

  “You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?” she asked. “Well, are you? What’s the matter, Brancato not giving it up?”

  “We broke up,” I said, like this was old news, even though it had happened less than five minutes ago.

  “And so you figured that it was time to have me make good on my promise?”

  Now Burn was scribbling a note on a napkin that was blotched with ketchup. I struggled to read it and finally made out his handwriting, which said, Ask to take her to a movie.

  Which I did, but instead of agreeing, she starts laughing like crazy and says this:

  “A movie? A frickin’ movie? Crash, you stupid shit, are you out of your frickin’ mind? Did you really think I was serious that night, that I was going to fuck you just because you gave me a few beans?” She is cracking herself up even if I’m not laughing.

  Burn hears the echo of her laughter on the other side of my phone and actually breaks a smile, like he knows he’s doing the right thing. So I repeat, “What about the movie?” because Burn was writing it out for me on the napkin again, underlining the words over and over.

  And she says: “Actually, Crash, know what? I would rather fuck you than sit with you while you watched some stupid movie and laughed like a frickin’ retard in all the inappropriate places. Besides, you would not like the movies I like. I only watch foreign movies. With subtitles. Do you think you can sit through a whole movie that you have to read? If you can frickin’ read?”

  Did I forget how frickin’ crazy this family was?

  I looked at Burn, who was continuing to coach me. Was he screwing with me or was this the real thing? Because the Roxanne who was on the phone wasn’t interested in seeing me at all. With his prodding, I told her that yes I could sit through a movie I had to read (even though I knew I couldn’t, or at least didn’t much want to).

  All she did was laugh when I told her this. So maybe it was working, but not the way I expected when Burn told me what he wanted. I’m about to hang up when she says, OK, but your mom will have to drive us. So I told her, yes I was sure my mom could drive us, and she tells me, “Crash, I’m fucking with you, can’t you tell?” She laughed again. “As in being frickin’ sarcastic. I’m not having your mommy drive us to the movies, that was my point. I have my own license. After all, I’m your sister’s age. And oh yeah, I’m not fucking you either.”

  She hung up. Leaving me to stare questioningly at Burn, who was stuffing the remaining onion rings into his mouth.

  “She’ll go,” he said, his mouth filled with onion paste, which he made no effort to hide.

  He was right.

  She called back a few days later and said she was sorry for being so cunty when I called, telling me that she felt bad, so she would make it up to me and take me to a regular movie. And a few hours later, we were at a theater in Connecticut, watching The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, not a foreign flick, because she thought I would like it better. She had driven to Connecticut because no one in our school goes that far for a movie, and she did not want to be confronted by anyone she knew, for my sake, she said, whatever that meant. I didn’t question it, as Connecticut was just fine for me, and along the way, she reached into her glove compartment and produced a perfect joint for us to share.

  She even bought me popcorn and a soda, which of course made me feel like her younger brother. And even though she said that she was only seeing the movie for me, she was way more into it than I was, laughing like crazy at the speed and the noise, and she didn’t seem at all depressed or suicidal or anything. Of course, I couldn’t concentrate on the movie at all, given that the stakes were so high, as in based on Burn’s assessment of her situation, I had to keep her laughing, so the pressure was on, and also I tried not to think of sex with her, which was all I could think about.

  So sex and laughing was still all I could think about when we were sitting together at this restaurant outside the theater, having chicken wings and fries, which of course made it beyond difficult to follow her as she talked about going to college and leaving home at a particularly bad time and being concerned about how David was going to be without her to control him especially now with his mother’s special needs and all and her aunt Beth (who frickin’ knew that was Aunt Peesmell’s real name?) was being so bitchy and not helping her mother at all when she needed it most.

  I had nothing, absolutely nothing, to say.

  “You’re such a little boy, Crashinsky,” she said, attacking the wings, sauce making her clown faced. She wiped off the sauce with one hand, munched with the other. It occurred to me that she ate with the same mannerisms as her brother. “It’s a very endearing quality, honestly, Crashinsky, but I can’t be your girlfriend, so get that out of your frickin’ head.”

  “I didn’t . . . I wasn’t . . .” Me, all flustered. “Burn, David . . . your brother told me to call you,” I stammered. “He said that I had to make you laugh, that you were depressed and all. Like last time. Well, not like last time.”

  This got her to laugh. “With everything going on in our lives, I didn’t know that he had time for practical jokes.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I’m supposed to let you off easy.”

  “Because?”

  “Because you’re a kid, you’re the same age as my brother, younger, and even if I liked you that way, which I don’t, I couldn’t go out with you. You don’t even frickin’ drive, much less keep up with me on any level. Are you going to pick me up on your bicycle and make out with me at your teenage parties? You have to know that I’m beyond that at this point.”

  “I’m just supposed to make you laugh, is all.” I was suddenly not at all hungry, and she continued to eat the rest with increasing speed.

  “Look, Crashinsky, I know you like me, that you’ve always liked me, but get it through your head, it’s not going to happen. So please, go back to your world.”

  I had absolutely nothing to say.

  And then, after she finished the remaining wings, she drove me home and parked outside my house. Then she unbuckled her seatbelt and slid over and put her arm around my neck,

  and then jolted my seat back,

  and then climbed on top of me, kissed me deeper than I had ever experienced before, with her on top and me beneath her, making me totally feel like the girl.

  And then she whispered in my ear: “Because I wanted to and nothing more. Now get out.”

  And as she said this, she flipped the door open and nudged me out of her car, wiping her mouth like she had just finished the wings again and climbing back into the driver’s seat, laughing.

  “Had a nice time, Crash. Maybe we’ll do this again one day when you’re older.” And she drove off.

  WTF, as in what the fuck.

  For whatever else it was worth, Burn was right about Maddy, as in she never stopped calling all week, then had her friends call. She left messages that it was all her fault, that she was sorry, that she was too demanding, and if I could just call once, that would be enough.

  Then by the end of the week, angry messages, like I’m a scumbag, and how could I not see her. Then, more resigned to “call me when you can.”

  And so a week later, I did. Even though by then, all I could think about was Roxanne.
I just couldn’t get it out of my head that if she was so adamant about not seeing me, then there was no reason to say good-bye the way she did.

  Now comes the weird part.

  When I finally call Maddy, just as Burn suggested, instead of telling me that she was ready for the full commitment, as in going all the way, she tells me that she heard I was going out with someone behind her back and she doesn’t want to see me or talk to me.

  WTF.

  Now comes the even weirder part: The next night, I’m at a party with my boys and hanging with the Herd and in walks Maddy, with, of all people . . . get this:

  David Burnett.

  Like, they are totally together. So I go over to Burn and pull him aside and ask what the fuck was going on, after all I did for him, as in taking Roxanne out, and I had to tell him, as far as I was concerned, she wasn’t having any issues at all, unlike what he told me, and what was he doing with Maddy? After all, banging Maddy was supposed to be my reward for taking his sister out, everything according to plan, the plan that he laid out so completely a week before over lunch at Pinky’s. So what the fuck?

  And he said, get this, “I told Maddy you had a new girlfriend. I figured she should know.”

  “Figured she should know?”

  “Yeah, figured she should know that you were just out to bang her,” he said. “Payback is a bitch, isn’t it?”

  “Payback for what?”

  “Christina. I always knew we were connected in some way, and you can imagine when the girl I love more than life itself tells me that she likes me as a friend because she was always into someone else that way, that news did not make me happy. And then I figured out it was you. But it figures, doesn’t it, because except for that one night when I beat you at poker, you’re always benefitting from the things I do. Well, no more, Crash. I’m done.”

  All I could think was, Christina? How did she figure into the equation? I had nothing whatsoever to do with her since eighth grade. I asked what about April, but he dismissed the April concept. He even had Roxanne thinking that she was doing me a favor by taking me to the movies, because, he told her, Maddy had broken it off with me and I was devastated. So Roxanne was part of his plan, even though there was no way she could have even known that she was.

  Then he disappeared with Maddy into another room, and I left before they emerged. When I got home and switched on the computer, there was an IM from him. What he said was:

  Revenge is sweet.

  Truth was, I actually didn’t give a shit. Turns out I didn’t miss Maddy one bit. And I realized that Roxanne was right, that she and I lived in two different worlds.

  I also had what Newman called residual popularity, which he described as being considered off the market for a while, so now that I was back (even though I was never actually gone), some of the Herd Girls missed me. Plus, they all seemed to like the fact that I could commit to a relationship even though it was only for a short period, and even though no one actually liked Maddy (actually that was helpful as well, because no one felt any sympathy for her about being dumped, especially with her hooking up so quickly with Burn).

  Speaking of Burn, I was happy for him. He seemed to be into Maddy. Plus, on some level, he probably felt that he beat me at another game, even though, and I can admit it now, in the immediate days after I confronted him at the party, on a purely coincidental basis, I managed to finally hook up with April Walker, who picked up where Maddy left off. OK, maybe it was wrong of me, but I was wasted at one of the junior parties and she came over and said that she heard that David Burnett had stolen my girlfriend and I was supposed to be devastated, and before I could argue the point, she was consoling me with her mouth.

  So like it or not, once again, Burn somehow did all of the work for me, just like he complained about. But I had the good sense not to send him a text bragging about getting even, because truth was, I wasn’t even at all. Given that April and her willing mouth was available whenever I wanted without the heavy-duty obligation of having to be a boyfriend and hold her hand and tell her how pretty she looked in her new Juicy T-shirt, I once again had a straight flush to his full house.

  And, as I said, the Herd Girls were all happy to have me back, so when I wasn’t secretly with April, I was hooking up with Annie Russo, who was always fun, and even though she had her limits, she was the best time I could have with a girl my own age.

  And I even thought a lot about calling Christina after what Burn told me. But she was away that summer at some kind of performance camp. Besides, I didn’t much care for her drama friends, so being as life was going along pretty good, my thinking was, why ruin a good thing? Besides, no matter what Burn said, he wasn’t done with her, and he was crazy, so whenever my mind wandered to Christina, I called April.

  And Lindsey finally had a boyfriend, some supernerd who went to MIT and was mad into computers, so he wired our house and every laptop for TV, which I don’t have to tell you at this point made Jamie fall in love with him. Plus, he got me into all of the porn websites without needing a password, which made me fall in love with him too (jk, not a homo).

  His name was Nick and he was the biggest Red Sox fan, and my mom liked him and apparently even Jacob approved. And what’s more, to everyone’s surprise, he thought I was the coolest kid he ever met. So he would spend time in my room with me arguing over the Red Sox/Yankees rivalry and playing Xbox 360 and telling me about how cool the PlayStation 3 was going to be since in effect it was a supercomputer and he had heard that they were going to use the same technology to find life in other solar systems. He was always saying stuff like that. For some odd reason he reported back to my mom that I was a genius in my own way and that he wished that he was more like me, which made Lindsey look at me a little differently (although, let’s be honest, not all that much).

  And Jamie was spending time out of the house, and doing real good at camp, where she started making real friends. And to prove the point, she came home drunk one afternoon, which only I knew, and we had like the best time on the deck with her laughing at every single thing I said. And she apparently took a liking to vodka, because she was coming home like every afternoon beyond loopy, which was OK to me since Jamie needed an outlet, given that Medusa had pretty much become my dog by that time and was completely attached to me, ignoring Jamie’s pleas for affection.

  Then, at the beginning of August, in the blazing heat of the summer, the weekend that Talladega Nights opened, the entire Club Crew blazed in the parking lot of the multiplex and celebrated our close bond and Evan’s seventeenth birthday with a bottle of Cristal, which, even though I didn’t much like champagne, tasted pretty good and got us laughing. And Annie Russo was there and she took care of me in her car.

  And there were more parties after that and tremendous weed and flowing drinks and hookups. So it was a pretty fucking awesome summer, filled with good times and surprises.

  And in a summer filled with surprises, Mrs. Burnett did the most surprising thing of all:

  She died.

  I had no idea she was even sick, but apparently she, Burn, and Roxanne were dealing with the fact that she had breast cancer for years. First it was in one breast, my mother explained to me on the night that she told us, and then she was OK for a long time, but then it came back, so the doctors were more aggressive and treated her with all kinds of chemo to keep it from spreading.

  She didn’t actually die of breast cancer. She ended up dying from the treatment. Apparently some kind of rare reaction to the chemo and a blood clot that traveled, don’t ask me, I’m no scientist, alls I know was it was a sudden, unexpected thing.

  And I had to go to the funeral. All of us, not just me, but Jamie and Lindsey and even Jacob and Felicia, as Jacob managed Mrs. Burnett’s accounts and all.

  So in the middle of August, on a rainy morning (not just rain, like, monsoon rain) in the middle of the week, the group of us were sitting together in a row listening to some rabbi talk about Elaine like he knew her, even though I kne
w and everybody else knew that Mrs. Burnett no longer considered herself Jewish and had joined some cult that believed that the world was coming to an end, which it did, for her, anyways.

  More importantly to me, this was the first time I had seen Caroline Prescott and Felicia in the same room together since that fateful Thanksgiving dinner. They seemed to be ignoring each other very well, as I didn’t see either woman talk to or even acknowledge the other’s existence.

  Burn was in a suit that didn’t fit at all. Lindsey, being Lindsey, commented that he looked like a homeless guy, which might be what the future had planned for him. I went over to shake his hand and he just stared at mine, with a look like when the fuck have we ever shaken hands so why start now? So I pulled back and then he said:

  “Your father’s girlfriend actually got better looking. How is that even possible?”

  That’s when I saw Roxanne. She didn’t look goth or emo or anything else at all. She had dyed her hair back to normal and was apparently wearing one of her mother’s black dresses, looking real adult.

  And absolutely beautiful. In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was, hate to say this, unbelievably sexy at her mother’s funeral.

  I went over to her, extending my hand again. She ignored it and instead hugged me for a long time and whispered, “Thanks for coming, Steven.”

  This completely disarmed me. I’m not going to lie, I was looking forward to seeing her, in a weird way, having not seen her since the movie date thing and knowing that I wouldn’t otherwise have the opportunity again.

  What I said was “Sorry for your loss,” which is what Jacob told all of us we had to say and not to say anything else to avoid fucking things up (especially to me, no surprise there, thank you, Jacob, for your continued support).

  And then there was the coffin. There, in the front of the room. This was my very first funeral. Call me lucky, but no one had died around me until Mrs. Burnett. So I couldn’t look at it for too long, knowing that she was in there, and yet, somehow, not.