by Gaby Triana
“There’s no problem,” I say quickly before he goes and thinks we’re making a big mistake by being together. “We just have to make a point to study harder and take breaks from each other. Let’s do that over the weekend and then see each other at school on Monday, okay? We’ll take it from there.” God, that is really hard to say when all I want is to be alone with him again, but we need to go about this the right way. We have to prove to our parents that we can handle a relationship along with school.
Suddenly, though, his voice sounds different. Cold. “Sounds great. See you Monday. Thank you.”
Sounds great? Thank you? His mom must be around. I wait on the line.
“Chloé?” he whispers after a minute.
“Yeah?” I hate feeling like a secret, yet I can’t seem to say anything else.
“Look, I can’t talk right now. The walls have ears. But I love you. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Whew.
I might’ve lost Lolita tonight, but that’s the only thing I’ll be losing. Gordon and I are just going through a glitch here. There was bound to be one after two and a half months.
“Okay.” I let the disappointment in my voice travel through the ether, across the distance, into Gordon’s humongonoid mansion in Palmetto Heights, right into his anal but lovely brain. “I love you too.”
Monday, it’s back to school. Rock is at my house bright and early, asleep on my porch swing when I come outside. I nudge his head with my boot.
“We still racing?” he mumbles.
“In the Durango?” I ask, looking at the old, gray elephant I’m lucky enough to take to school today now that Lolita is off-limits.
“I could just take you.”
“No, I have tutoring after school.”
“So then why doesn’t Gordon just bring you home afterward?”
“’Cause…” I hesitate. “My mom has a problem with him now.”
I see his eyebrows go up as he makes a face. “Me, I’m not gonna say nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”
“Good. Let’s just go, shall we?”
I try racing Rock in the truck, but he blows past so fast, I am nearly swallowed by the Mustang’s wake. SUVs suck huevos.
At school, I go all six periods without seeing Gordon. That’s four days now, with only a few checkup calls, nothing emotional. And after the way he sounded the other day, it’s starting to freak me out. I know he had some tests today, so he’s probably off studying somewhere. At worst, I’ll see him at peer tutoring.
During trig, the last period of the day, I can hardly stand it anymore. I have to see him. I have to sink into his hug, touch his dimples, and know that everything is still okay between us. My stomach swirls around, all turbulent and panicky.
One minute until the bell.
My mind is already sprinting down the hall, dodging people on my way to the auditorium, and when the bell finally rings, I’m out of the gate, running to win the Triple Crown.
I catch glimpses of people—Vincent hollering annoyingly down the hall, Amber and a friend, deep in discussion in a corner—but I can’t slow down. I’m on a mission to get to peer tutoring. When I reach the auditorium, all out of breath, I stop to regroup just outside the door. I pretend to be on a very important phone call, just in case Sabine is watching, so she doesn’t think anything is wrong.
As I wait, I notice it’s going to rain yet again. Of course it is, it’s April in South Florida.
Gordon should be here by now. Could he already be inside? He might’ve taken his last test and come in early, and that’s why I haven’t seen him. A smile ready at my lips, I pull open the noisy auditorium doors.
I do a quick visual scan of the rows and rows of seats. The usual people are there, although there are a few newcomers as well, now that the last grading period is well under way. Ms. Rath waves a hello to me from the stage. I give her a little wave back. Sabine eyes me like a jealous salamander from her throne of paper clips.
All is as usual. But no Gordon. He’s late.
To pass the time I read a chapter in my book, but all I can really think about is our skinny-dipping at the dock, kissing in the water…It felt so right to be that close to him. If he felt the same way, wouldn’t he brave his parents and bring me further into his life? Where are you, Gordon?
I feel someone standing next to me and look up. Gene Simmons is crouching next to me in a flowered dress. “Chloé.”
“Oh, hey, Ms. Rath.”
“Gordon should be on his way. I know he was in school today.”
“He was?” I do nothing to hide my surprise. My pen tap-tap-taps my notebook. “Thanks,” I say, hoping she’ll leave me alone to my anxiety attack. What’s going on? Did the weekend break give him too much time to think?
I try calling him, but his phone goes to voice mail. “Hey, sweetie. I’m here, waiting for you. Hurry up, I don’t think my heart can take it any longer.”
Half an hour later, I’m still sitting here, stood up by my so-called boyfriend. Sabine glances over at me every so often with a look I perceive as victorious. Happy? I give her a minimal smile as I quietly get up to head for the door. Only when I’ve blown past the noisy doors and charged into the parking lot do I let out a piercing shriek. But since it’s raining gutter-gushing torrents, no one’s around to hear me.
Twenty-three
Inside the Durango I call Gordon one more time. If he doesn’t answer, then I’m calling his house. Screw his parents. I have to talk to him. If there’s a problem between us, we can work it out.
He answers on the third ring this time. “Hey, Chloé.”
“Oh, hey! Where’ve you been all day?” I try to keep my voice light.
“I’ve had a crazy day, you have no idea.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. But…did you forget about tutoring?”
“I’m sorry about that, but I cannot discuss it right now.”
“What? Why cannot you discuss it, Gordon? Do you not have one minute to explain what’s going on?” I know I sound like a smart-ass, but I deserve an explanation.
“Hold on…” he says, sounding like he’s going somewhere quiet to talk. I’m right. When he comes back on the line, his voice is quieter but clearer. “Chloé, please don’t take this the wrong way, but…I need a few days. There’s a lot going on at home. My parents have really been coming down on me. I don’t have the perpetual freedom you have at your house, okay?”
“You make it sound like I have no rules just because my parents aren’t as strict as yours. But if they don’t like us being together so much, then fine. We’ll cut down some.”
“That’s not it, Chloé. You don’t understand. They…” He hesitates. I don’t like the way this is sounding. “They don’t even know about you. It’s not that I’m not allowed to have a girlfriend, but let’s just say it’s not encouraged.”
“You told me they knew you were seeing someone.”
“Someone, yes. I haven’t told them exactly who.”
“What’s wrong with who you’re seeing?” I can’t believe I’m hearing this. “So you mean I’ve been your dirty little secret this whole time? Can’t you just introduce me? What is the big, hairy deal? I’m not a heathen, you know. Don’t give in to their prejudices, Gordon.”
“I’m not, but you’re being…You’re being linear again, Chloé. It’s not that simple.”
“Nothing is simple, Rock, I know that!” My voice reverberates inside the truck.
Silence. “Did you…just call me Rock?”
What? “I mean, Gordon. Sorry.” God, what is wrong with me? “Look, I just…wish you’d had enough consideration to call me and explain things, instead of hiding like a freakin’ coward.” I try controlling my voice but end up yelling those last few words.
“Can you express yourself without screaming like a banshee? I can understand you just fine without your tone.”
“Go to hell,” I tell him. How’s that for tone? I have a right to be mad. I didn’t like his condescending way of talking to me whe
n we first met, and I sure as shit don’t like it now. What kind of guy can’t stand up to his parents for what he believes in, for a person he loves? Suddenly, I realize this isn’t helping. I close my eyes and refocus my energies. “Sorry,” I mumble.
He sighs. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have called you. But just…do your own thing for a few days so my parents can get off my back. Then we’ll take it from there, okay?”
Is this the beginning of the end? ’Cause that’s what this feels like.
“Yeah, Gordon. That’s just fine. We’ll take a break from each other.” And as stupid and dramatic as it is, I hang up on him. I know I probably just knocked our chances of getting through this back a couple of notches, but as my mother would say, the moon is in retrograde tonight, and when that happens, Chloe’s irreversible.
I can’t go to the dock because it’s raining, and I can’t go home because that would make my mom feel like she won some battle in taking away Lolita. I will not go to Gordon’s house, because I have some dignity. So I head off in search of the only person who can make me feel better when the planets are not lining up. Rock.
I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear this.
The Durango’s wipers swish urgently, but not fast enough to clear the amount of water on the windshield. My lashes are not doing an efficient enough job of clearing the tears from my eyes, either. To make matters worse, I feel so defeated driving this truck. I promised Seth I would take care of Lolita, but I haven’t even been able to do that. Now she’s locked up in the garage. I’ve let you down, Sethie. I’ve let myself down too.
I remember when Seth sat in this very seat next to me, teaching me to drive when I was barely twelve. He told me I was a natural, like I’d been driving my whole life. And in a way, I had been. To this day, I have always been happiest when behind the wheel of some car or truck, or behind the handlebars of Lolita—in control of something. Gordon was right about one thing. I am Motor Girl.
When I turn onto Rock’s street, I expect to see a new car in his driveway. But his Mustang’s there alone. Thank God.
Jumping out of the truck in the slamming rain, I shut the door hard and nearly wipe out on the slick grass trying to get to his front door. Under the shelter of the front step overhang, I tap on the door screen.
“Hello?” I try the door handle and the door creaks open.
I close it softly behind me and step into the dark living room. The blinds are all tightly shut, the same old sofas from when we were little sit unused and full of dust. The faint smell of his dad’s cigarette smoke lingers in the air. Rock’s TV is on loud.
“Hello?” I call out again, creeping closer to the short hallway that leads to the three bedrooms, inching around boxes of stored stuff that never made it out to the garage. Rock’s room is at the back of the house. I step over a cardboard tube that’s blocking my way like a fallen tree in the woods. From here, I can hear the voices on the TV, and through his half-open door, I see Rock’s back without a shirt on, sculptured and tanned. His jeans are on, then I can’t see anything else because he moves away. I feel stupid standing here. It’s been so long since I set foot into this house and it’s just not the same place it used to be. Maybe I headed over here a little too blindly.
Why am I creeping around?
I’m this close to calling out his name again, when another figure comes into view. It’s someone bending over to pull down what’s left of her attire, a girl standing there naked, shaking out her hair. Brunette with blond highlights.
I step back, but the cardboard tube trips me, sending me tumbling backward as I try to regain my balance. I use the wall as a springboard and bolt for the door before Rock has the chance to catch me, though I hear him calling, “Hold on!” from the hallway.
I stumble out of the house and into the rain, but I’m still fumbling for the key, which I’d shoved into my pocket, when Rock appears at the door. “Chloé, what are you doing here?”
All I can do is stand there getting wet while I try to find my key, but it’s not in my pocket after all. “I came to talk to you.”
“Are you okay?”
“Just dandy.” I find the key lying in the grass. I pick it up and jam it into the lock.
“It’s Gordon, isn’t it?”
“It’s nothing. Good-bye.”
“You don’t have to go, Chloé.”
I give him a hard look. “I think I do. You’re busy.”
He closes the door quietly. “I’ll take her home.”
“No. Don’t do that. Just…just…” I don’t know why I’m so flustered. I know all about Rock’s wanton lifestyle, so this shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me.
His eyebrows twist in confusion, he waits to hear anything I might have to say, but my words are stuck as the rain soaks through my jeans. This is the worst fucking day ever. Strike that. The second worst.
I finally wrench the truck door open, and I jump in, turning on the ignition. “Chloeeee,” he tries cheering me up, but his voice can’t work its usual magic today. “Come on, baby,” he whines.
“Rock!” I snap. “I’m not going to stay here and wait for your ‘guest,’ or should I say customer, to leave. I have no business here anyway.”
“You have every business here,” he says firmly.
“No. We’re nothing! You and I are nothing!” I hiss, even though we are definitely something, and I feel I have the right to demand that little slut leave his house.
“And whose fault is that?” He tries raising his voice at me, but it’s controlled. Even when he’s losing patience with me.
“Yours!” I shout. “Maybe if you weren’t whoring around all the time, I might let myself get close to you. But you said you’d stop, and look—you can’t.”
“You gave me the red light, Chloé. You made it perfectly clear nothing would ever happen between us.”
“Yes, because I can’t compete. Okay? I just can’t,” I say. “How can I trust that someone better isn’t going to come along, Rock? Someone prettier, with a better body. I’m afraid. Don’t you get it…afraid?”
His look is priceless. “What are you talking about, Chlo? I didn’t know you felt that way. You’re always saying you don’t want to lose me as a friend, so that’s all I thought this was about.”
“It is Rock, but come on…don’t you think I would love for it to work out between us? Obviously, I would. But one: Chances are it won’t. And two…” I gesture to the naked girl inside his house, who’s probably wondering what is going on out here. “You’ll always be you.”
He seems to absorb my every word, then shakes his head slowly. “You don’t get it. You’ll never get it. If I can’t be with you, Chloé…” He shrugs.
“Yeah, I understand. You gotta get it from somewhere, right?” I stare at him.
“You make me sound like a dog,” he calls through the drenching rain.
“More like a lecherous Neanderthal.”
“That’s great, Chloé. Really great.”
I have nothing left to say.
He flips up his palms. “I’d quit this all for you. That’s what you don’t understand.”
“So quit!”
“Just give me the word, and I will.”
Our eyes lock. I know he means it. I know he’d do that for me, but still I can’t make that leap. I’m terrified I’d lose him, and I can’t lose Rock. I mean, if I lose Gordon it’ll suck mongoose, and I’ll be hurt as hell, but if I lose Rock…I’ll have really lost it all. And I have lost enough loved ones for the year—for the decade.
He takes my silence as a sign. His voice is calm. “Chloé, I still love you, but I’m not going to wait around forever. At some point, you’re gonna have to decide.”
I close the door and pull out of the driveway. My brain feels like fresh roadkill. All screwed up and tangled. As I start driving away, I spot Rock in the rearview mirror, still standing in the doorway, half naked, jeans unbuttoned.
Why is my chest aching? He’s right. I’m
the one who gave him the red light. I shouldn’t even care. Gordon is my boyfriend, not Rock. But I did call Rock my super-luminous giant in the Andromeda Galaxy—always there when I need him.
I would quit this all for you. The words plague me all the way home. Just when I think I know what I want out of life, out of this whole love game—the rules change all over again.
Twenty-four
Try going an entire week pretending nothing’s wrong. Try living normally, as if the person you’d given all your energy to for the last three months, and almost gave yourself to, didn’t act like you don’t exist anymore. Try not calling him, even though your fingers itch to. I am so impressed with myself, I can’t stand it. On the outside, I may seem fine. Yeah, me and Gordon are on a little break. We’re still good. But on the inside, I’m dying.
If I tell Rock about my “trial separation” with Gordon, he’s just going to say I told you so. And the last thing I want to hear Rock say is I told you so. Why should I give him the satisfaction? Besides, Rock hasn’t come to school this entire week. We haven’t spoken since our fight, and for the first time in my life, I feel really alone.
At lunchtime, I find Vincent the Dumped sulking on a low wall, popping open a can of Coke. He’s not quite a girlfriend, but he’s close, since he’s such a wuss. I accost him with a shoulder shove. “What happened, Vince?”
“What happened, what?”
I jump up on the wall with him. “I don’t know. Just thought maybe something happened.”
“You mean with Amber?”
I nod. “I haven’t really seen you with her all that much lately.”
“Yeah. I haven’t seen you hanging with Gordon much these days either.”
Ouch. I pick at my nails. “He needs some time. I’m just trying to deal with it the best I can.”
He smirks, nodding. “Well, me and Amber just didn’t work out. I guess I saw more in her than was actually there.”
“We can believe anything we want,” I say. And suddenly, I’m wrought with hypocritical guilt the size of Jupiter. I have always tried to see more in my relationship with Gordon than what I originally believed was there. Is there really more to us? Or am I just a female Vince, imagining grandeur where there is none?
