by Susan Soares
Well, let’s see. I never met my dad and found out he died when I was ten. My mom died of cancer just over a year ago and my brother — who was my best friend — took off just months after my mom’s death. So there you go. Tell me about your family. Having someone pity me is not what I want. Not again.
****
It was two months after my mom had passed away. I was sitting in algebra class when I got a text on my phone from Zoe. Eric Hunter wants 2 tlk 2 u aftr school!!!
I nearly fell out of my chair when I read the message. Eric Hunter was the guy, I mean, the guy. Most popular in our class, champion basketball player, honor roll student, adored by all. We had never spoken before. Correction, we did exchange words once. Eric’s mom and my mom knew each other, old college alumni. Eric’s mom came over to my house to drop something off, and Eric was sitting in his mom’s car waiting. Still panting, I had just come back from a run. This was not the best day to run into Eric Hunter. My entire body was covered in sweat, and I was pretty sure I had mascara raccoon eyes. During the tail-end of my run, I was bopping along to the song playing on my MP3 player so much so that as I turned the corner into my driveway, I ran right into the back of Mrs. Hunter’s car.
“Hey, are you all right?” Eric’s voice was warm, like clothes fresh out of the dryer.
After wiping some dirt off my legs, I looked into Eric Hunter’s big brown eyes and mumbled, “Don’t look at me,” before running into my house. Classic.
That was why Zoe’s text about him wanting to talk to me had thrown me for a loop. After my final class, I rushed to the girls’ restroom to fix my hair and apply a fresh coat of my favorite mauve lip gloss. Then I waited near the front doors of the school.
“Hey,” Eric said as he sauntered over to me. “You wanna go for a ride somewhere?” He flipped his long bangs to the side.
“Su-sure,” I stammered. With all my might, I tried not to stare at his profile as he drove — but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t even know where we were going, and I didn’t care. This was Eric Hunter! We finally arrived at the local pizza place. When I started to open my door, he said, “Wait,” and he got out from his side and walked around to open my car door for me. He took my hand in his, which felt large and a bit rough, but warm, oh so warm. Over pizza he talked about basketball and why he hated calculus. While sharing mozzarella sticks, we debated over who had the better taste in music and movies and books. I smiled a lot. My cheeks actually were a little sore from smiling. It had been months since I’d smiled like that.
He drove me home. We sat in his car in front of my house and listened to some music. His hand held mine, and his thumb was softly caressing the back of my hand. Just as I turned toward him to say I should be getting inside, I was met by his lips on mine. They were as soft as they looked, and I felt like I was melting into him. My entire body tingled and I felt… alive.
“Thanks for a fun date,” he said after our lips parted.
I could still feel my mouth tingling. “Thank you.” The words fell slowly off my lips.
“I’m glad I could make you smile.” He leaned back into his seat. “My mom’s been pretty worried about you.”
I was now coming out of the fog from the kiss. There was something about his last statement that seemed off to me. “What do you mean?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “You know. She’s been talking a lot about you. She’s just been worried about how you were doing since… since your mom died.” He looked out the window now.
I felt all my muscles tighten. “So did you take me out because your mom told you to?” I wanted to eject myself from the car.
He looked at me and stroked my cheek. “You had a good time today, right? You laughed and smiled, right? That’s all I wanted to do. Give you a good day.”
I felt rage bubble up inside me. Frantically, I grabbed my purse and flung the car door open. I didn’t bother to shut it behind me as I ran to my house. Filled with fury, I stomped my feet on the staircase leading up to my room. Then I slammed my bedroom door and collapsed on my bed. This is how people would see me now. To everyone who knew me I would be: The girl with the dead mother that people needed to pity. The girl that people needed to go out of their way to be nice to, just to a put a smile on her sad, grieving face. Never again would I be able to trust people’s intentions. It just wasn’t worth it.
****
Intoxicating scents from the food court were starting to make me wish I had gotten something to eat on my break. The alarm I had set to go off when I had been out of the store for twelve minutes started to ring on my phone. I grabbed my purse and water. Rob waved, and I sheepishly waved back. Ugh. Can’t you just be normal?
“Marissa, I want you to change the color blocking on the daisy shorts near the front window. Here’s the new layout.” Taylor handed me a plan-o-gram for the front section of the store.
“But this is the complete opposite of the way it is now. I don’t think I can get this done by the time my shift ends.” Was she still seriously working on schedules?
“See that you do. Get it done, that is.” She gestured for me to get out of her hair. I longingly looked at the two girls working the registers. Idle chitchat and a few random customers would fill the rest of their shift. All while I’d be stuck in daisy shorts oblivion.
If the daisy shorts knew how much I hated them at this point, they’d probably cry. I had to reverse the entire display — by myself — at the front of the store where I was able to listen to the carefree shoppers talking as they passed by. Naively, I had hoped Taylor was going to give me a break after the T-shirt folding and skinny jeans resizing, and maybe then she’d put me on widow cleaning duty. But no, here I was trying to rush to get this entire stupid display changed over in the course of the next hour and to make it perfect so her Denim Highness would be happy.
I cursed the daisy shorts when one of them gave me a paper cut from its sale tag. I was trying not to bleed on the clothes when I heard a guy’s voice behind me.
“Hey Marc! Dude!” His voice was loud and excited. I left the shorts and walked out in front of the store to try to see who was shouting. “Marc! Hey man, turn around!” The guy was only a few feet in front of me. I looked ahead of him to see who he was shouting at, and that’s when I saw him. Seeing the back of his chestnut brown hair made my heart stop. My pace quickened as I watched him turn down the corridor. Marc? Are you kidding me? It’s Marc! I started jogging in hopes that I wouldn’t lose him. What was I going to say to him? Why hadn’t he called me? How long had he been in town?
I rounded the corner and searched through the bodies to see the back of his head walking into Hot T’s. My fingers started to feel numb, and I was now running down the corridor. Once I reached Hot T’s my head was spinning and my heart was beating so fast I thought the entire store could hear it. Aisle by aisle I searched: T-shirt aisle, down the weird toy aisle, and then when I looked down the comic book aisle that’s where I saw him. His back was to me. He looked like he had gotten taller. My breath was stuttered, and it felt forced when I swallowed. After taking in a full breath of courage, I walked up right behind him.
“H-Hey,” I stammered. He turned around, and I immediately felt like I was going to faint.
“Hey, yourself.” A stranger’s face stared back at me. Not in the way like ‘it was my brother but because I haven’t seen him in over a year he looked like a stranger to me’ kind of way, but in the way that this was an actual stranger looking at me.
“I’m sorry. I thought… I thought you were someone else.” I rolled my shoulders inward and left the store.
As I exited I heard him yell, “Who do you want me to be, pretty lady?”
I thought I might vomit.
****
In the back room of Denim, I was sitting on top of a box of merchandise as Taylor stared me down. “Seriously, Marissa? You left the store! What were you thinking?” Taylor ferociously tapped her pen on her desk. She looked way too stressed for someone only twenty-two years o
ld.
“I’m sorry. I thought I saw the guy steal a shirt,” I said.
“And what’s store policy if you think someone shoplifted something?”
I hated that confrontational tone she had. “Always inform your manager.” My voice became robotic.
“And what else?” She tapped her right foot on the ground.
Ugh. “Never go after the shoplifter. Your safety is far more important than any merchandise. Don’t be a hero.” I used the same cautious tone as the announcer does in the Shoplifting and You training video we have to watch every three months.
“Exactly.” She fumbled with some papers on her desk. “Now maybe you should just, I don’t know, relax for a bit.”
What was this? Taylor being nice? A shiver ran through me.
“Why don’t you clean all the glass and mirrors and wipe down the fixtures till the end of your shift.” Before she had a chance to change her mind, I leapt from my box and went to the supply locker to grab the glass cleaner and paper towels.
I was wiping down the three-way mirror in the large dressing room when I stopped to look at myself. Strands of brown, wavy hair had freed themselves from my loose bun. My cheekbones may have been high like my mother’s, but hers always had a pinkish hue to them, whereas mine looked like the rose blush I had applied early this morning had never existed. Marc’s cheekbones were the same. No hue to them either. How could I have been so stupid? How could I go chasing after some guy just because he had the same name? Idiot. Like Alice, I felt like I was falling down the rabbit hole again.
When I was little Alice in Wonderland was my favorite story. I used to beg my mom to read it to me over and over again. It used to drive Marc crazy.
“I can’t stand that stupid story!” He was particularly crabby one night after dinner. Mom made him eat the shepherd’s pie she made, and he hated shepherd’s pie.
“Listen Marc, your sister loves it, and if you don’t enjoy it, you don’t have to listen.” Mom’s voice was stern.
I cuddled into her chest and listened to her continue reading to me. Marc stomped around the floor like he was wearing cement boots.
Later, when I had brushed my teeth and changed into my pajamas, I walked into my bedroom. That’s when I saw the teacup on my pillow. It was the one with the little pink and blue violets pattern on it. The handle was broken clean off. Only one person could have done this, and I knew it was Marc. He must have been so irritated that he went and broke one of my favorite teacups. I took the broken pieces in my hand and buried my face in the pillow, sobbing into the fresh scent of fabric softener.
“Hey,” I heard him call from my doorway.
“Go away!”
“You’re not still crying over that stupid teacup, are you? I didn’t do it on purpose. You leave your stuff all over the place, and I stepped on it.”
I picked my head up from my pillow and glared at him. “You liar! You just did it to be mean. Get out of here!” I returned to my pillow and my sobbing. It was maybe a half hour later — Mom had already turned out the lights and told me she’d fix the teacup in the morning — when I heard him creep into my room.
“Marissa.” His voice was soft.
I didn’t look at him. “What?” My voice was as deep as I could get it for being an eight-year-old girl.
“Come with me. I have something to show you.”
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Please.”
There was something in his tone and my young curiosity that made me go with him. I followed him to the playroom. There, laid out in the middle of the floor, was my red-and-white checkered tablecloth. Four place settings were laid out from my tea set, and at two spots he had sat my Alice in Wonderland doll and my Cheshire Cat.
“What is this?” I was so excited I was biting my bottom lip.
“It’s a tea party,” he said.
I tiptoed over and sat down. Everything was perfect, just how I would set it up. Even the broken teacup was there. It looked like he had used some duct tape to try to get the handle to stick back on.
“Marc,” I looked up at him. He looked so much taller than me, just like a big brother should.
“Yeah?”
“Would you read to me?” I held out my Alice in Wonderland book to him.
He rolled his eyes and took the book from my hand. “Ugh, sisters!” He playfully kicked my foot and sat down next to me.
The banging on the dressing room door jolted me. “Is someone in there?” a girl said as she banged again.
“Yes.” My voice quivered. “Just cleaning it up. I’ll be right out.” I used a fresh paper towel to wipe my tears away.
Thank goodness my shift was coming to end. I clocked out and was walking through the parking lot when I heard a girl yell, “Marc, wait up!”
My heart crept into my throat.
Chapter Six
“Hey, do you think if I stood up on the table and started singing we’d get kicked out?” Zoe dipped her breadstick in marinara sauce. She had called me when I was halfway home. At the mention of Giovianni’s breadsticks, I knew I was going to have to make a detour. Of course, my budget only allowed for breadsticks and water, but it was still an enticing offer.
“The way you sing, I definitely think we’ll get kicked out.” I pulled the cup of marinara sauce over to my side of the table.
Zoe raised an eyebrow at me. “I sing awesome, and you know it.”
“Sure, to a cat’s ears maybe.” I moved out of the way before the straw she threw at me hit me in the head. Even with how bad my night at work had been and my depressing adventure chasing down my brother, who turned out to not even be my brother, it was so nice to be with Zoe. Crazy, kooky, incredibly supportive Zoe. I hardly batted an eyelash when she began to climb up onto the table.
“Sing for cats. I don’t think so,” she said just before breaking out into the chorus of “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid. She was just getting to the line, “What do you call them? Oh yeah, feet.” when the assistant manager came over and helped her down.
“Aw, what if my people demanded an encore?” She batted her eyelashes at Ralph, Giovanni’s son, who was a few years older than us.
He grinned at her for a moment. “I didn’t hear any objections when I stopped you.” He looked around as if waiting for someone to object.
Zoe put her hands on her hips. “You just don’t know raw talent when you hear it.” Then she faced me. “Marissa, my dear, we’re done here.”
Ralph walked in front of Zoe as she tried to leave. “Right after you pay the check.”
She looked aghast at him. “After you publicly humiliated me? I would think you should be so inclined as to give me a free pizza for my embarrassment.”
“I didn’t make your voice that bad.” His tone was sarcastic, and he kept giving her a coy grin that made crinkles around his eyes. “I could let you go if you promise to go out with me Friday night.” He cocked his head to the opposite side.
“Hmm.” Zoe tapped her index finger to her lips and contemplated. “I’ll pay you half… and I’ll think about the date.”
Ralph put his hand up to refuse the money Zoe held before him. “No money. Just think about it.” He started to walk past her. “Think hard.” He spoke close to her ear, and I saw her legs quake just a bit.
As soon as we were outside I grabbed her arm. “What are you doing? What about Darren?” Seeing Zoe flirt like that, so effortlessly, made me wish I had even half of her confidence.
“What about Darren? Oh come on, Rissa I’m not going to go out with Ralph. I was just playing the game. The same way he was. I flirt, he flirts. It’s all harmless.” She looked deep into my eyes. “You want me to teach you how to play the flirting game, don’t you?”
My cheeks went hot. “What? Me… no. I don’t want to learn how to flirt.” I broke her gaze and kicked some pebbles on the ground.
She grabbed my arms. “You totally want me to teach you how to flirt! I’m adding it
to my to-do list.” With a flourish, she made an imaginary check mark in the air. We linked arm and arm and walked to our cars.
****
The morning sun that screamed in through my skylight irritated me. I recalled that Marc was supposed to install one of those custom-made shades, but that was right before he decided he could no longer “deal with this family.” I grabbed my cell phone off my nightstand and checked the time and saw 5:00 a.m. staring back at me. It was only thirty minutes before I needed to get up anyway to get a run in before school, so I decided to just get up and start now.
I took off my pink sleep-shorts set and changed into my purple short-sleeve jogging shirt (antimicrobial and UV protecting) and black running capris. In the mess of clothes on my floor, I couldn’t find a pair of matching ankle socks, so I had to go with one pink striped and one green striped. Maybe I’d start a new trend. Doubt it.
The early morning air was already quite warm. It was supposed to be hot for April — up in the eighties. You could never tell what you’re going to get when you lived in New England. I maintained a conservative pace throughout the first mile. Like always, I stopped at the end of Fletcher Street and took a big inhalation, and then I started running more quickly past Sacred Path Cemetery. Brandon. At the halfway point, I glanced inside the cemetery to where Brandon and his family had been standing, and my stomach flipped over like a pancake. With concentration, I ran faster and finally let out my breath as I banked a right and tried to stay focused. I would not smell the lilacs today. Instead, I decided to take a detour and go down Hope Street. It was such a nice sounding street, but the dog that gave me nightmares lived down there. A stupid little poodle named Roxie. There’s an old horror movie Marc used to like to watch, Cujo, about a crazed dog. Now that dog Cujo was huge, but I like to think of Roxie as Cujo in disguise.
