I wasn’t really making anything on these sites. The first month I put them up I made eighty bucks from three hundred downloads off seven different websites. I’ll save you the math, it’s twenty-five cents apiece.
Mom told me I “shouldn’t worry about it,” and that I was just getting my name out there.
I wasn’t worried about it, because I had no plans to make a living out of this. I was having fun. Besides, I thought it was awesome that I could make eighty bucks doing something I loved.
Mom did the hard work, the boring work. She spotted which shots sold best (Nicole), which poses, which lighting. She really brought it down to a science.
So we took more of those, always looking for different locations, different clothing.
Mom started keeping receipts (this was becoming a business trip, after all). The next month I made a hundred and fifty dollars. I just kept taking photos, putting them on FB, my blog, writing my poems, taking sexier and sexier shots of Nicole.
She put together a portfolio for herself and started getting the odd modeling job in various cities.
One night at a bar she said to me, “You make me look hot on these photos. Do you know how easy it is for me to get laid these days? I just pull out my phone and show them your latest boudoir photography.”
I rolled my eyes, whispered, “It was always easy for you to get laid.”
She thought about it. “Yup, true.” She was so blasé.
-4-
Mom assumed both Nicole and I had fake IDs when we started our trip. In actuality, Nicole had a doctored one. I had nothing at all.
Mom was Nicole’s legal guardian for the moment. She’d gotten temporary guardianship transferred to her from Nicole’s godparents for one simple reason: Eighteen year-olds who are forbidden from drinking...will find a way to get drunk.
The first time we all went out together¸ only a few days into our trip, the conversation went like this:
Mom: “Cathy, Nicole, you’ll both be nineteen soon. In other words, by federal law, we are three adults in this room. You can get married without parental consent, vote, serve as jurors and decide on someone’s eternal fate—but you can’t wet your lips with a beer.
“Here’s the deal: the law sucks. But if we break it, we’re the ones who pay our hard-earned money to the same idiots who put it there.
“So, when I say I’d rather you don’t use Fake IDs, I’m saying it from a fiscal perspective.”
Mom, ever the accountant.
“So here’s the deal. I will give you two the freedom to do whatever you want. And you will be responsible for any consequences yourselves—no questions asked, no judgments passed. You’re not kids. I want us to be equals on this trip, so that we can have fun. We’ve all been through a lotta shit this past year. You don’t need any moralizing from me to make things worse.
“Having said that, I understand that you two are in the prime of your lives, and that I’m an old hag of forty-three. And I’m your ‘mom.’” She looked at me, and made the “Mom” come out like some embarrassed teenager would say it. “I wouldn’t want my mom hanging out at a bar with me when I was eighteen. So, despite all I’ve said, you’re more than welcome to go partying without me if you wanna get a little wild without ‘mom’ hanging around. Just...be smart. I won’t give you a speech about stuff you’ve already learned in sex-ed or in How-To-Guarantee-Getting-Raped-101.
“But, if we do all go together, and you girls wanna drink, or even get wild, it’s fine by me. No judgment. In many states, it’s legal if I buy booze for you because I’m your guardian and you have my permission to drink. I won’t even tell you how much or how little you can drink. Honestly, I’d prefer you got drunk on my watch than out on your own. I might pull out my six-shot if some guy gets overly frisky with you, or if I think you’re too inebriated to make a consensual decision to have some dude get into your pants.” By now I was flushing hot with embarrassment. “But I won’t get in your way, and I won’t embarrass you. I promise.
“And you also don’t need to take me along out of pity. I’ve got plenty of work to do. Like I said, I’m an old fogey. I’m perfectly happy to sit and watch TV all night. And I’m also happy to go partying all night. My only condition is that if you go alone, I need to know where you’ll be. And I might call you once or twice to make sure you’re safe.”
We stood in the hotel room, stunned, both our mouths open.
“So?” mom said.
Nicole looked at me, I looked at her.
Nicole faced Alice. A grin formed slowly on her lips.
And then, she pumped her fist up in the air, and screamed, “LET’S PARTY, MRS. RAMSEY!”
We partied.
We partied hard.
We partied until Nicole and I sang and stumbled home.
It was the first time in my life I’d gotten completely wasted.
Mom held my head while I puked into the toilet bowl.
We never partied again without her.
CHAPTER THREE
~ Johnny ~
-1-
Alice Ramsey became my other best friend. The more time we spent together, the more I looked at her as a woman. I assume she looked at me more as one as well.
Guys hit on her. Even young guys!
At forty-three, she hadn’t lost it.
But she never went for any of them, old or young.
One dude in a suit, good-looking as hell for his age (he must have been late forties), hung around one night buying her drinks for over an hour. She smiled and accepted the drinks, always kept her eyes on us. But in the end, the man in the suit left unsatisfied. She got his number, he never got hers.
I asked her why she never pursued anything with these men, and she just said, “I’m not ready yet.”
I dropped it.
Nicole, on the other hand, is a guy magnet. And she hooked up often. What I found cute, however, was that she’d actually come over and tell Alice that she was about to do it, as if looking for her approval.
The first time it happened it went like this:
“I’m, uhm, gonna hook up with...uhm...that guy...uhm...behind me.”
Alice was at the bar, sipping on a virgin Martini. The guy in question was on the dancefloor. Nicole had her back to him.
Alice smirked at the guy, and Nicole waited, sweat beading on her forehead.
“So...what are you waiting for?” Alice said.
Nicole waited a second. And then, realizing she’d gotten “the OK,” turned abruptly to go meet up with him.
Mom snatched her arm suddenly!
Nicole almost stumbled, turned.
Alice brought her lips to Nicole’s ear. “Nicole, please use protection. And by that I don’t mean the pill. Sex can kill you these days.”
Nicole’s enthusiasm sagged.
Alice understood the problem. She whispered something else into Nicole’s ear.
Nicole grabbed Alice’s purse as if it were her own, and went with her mystery guy.
Inside was a Durex ten-pack.
-2-
One day I noticed Nicole writing furiously in a composition notebook in the back of the car.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A diary.”
“Since when do you keep a diary?”
“Since today. I’m documenting our trip. You have your photos. I have my stories.” She kept writing feverishly.
“Looks important.”
“It’s a detailed description of every sexual escapade I’ve been involved in since we started. I need to catch up. It’s only been two months.”
Alice, who’d been drinking a Seven-Up through a straw, spat some of it out.
-3-
Me? I never hooked up. Ever. And it’s not because I was embarrassed about Alice—my mom—being there. I wasn’t.
I’m not the type for one-nighters. In my books “hooking up” means a kiss and a feel, and then getting the guy’s number. The thought of doing that with Alice nearby didn’t embarrass me.
I just wasn’t interested. In the first few months, before I knew about Johnny’s new squeeze, I guess I was still in limbo. After that, I just “wasn’t ready yet.” Mom’s words.
She never pushed it. I swear she has a sixth sense about these things.
-4-
Johnny IMed me just before New Year’s. I hadn’t heard from him in nearly four months, not a peep, ever since I’d learned of his new gal.
Him: Hey
Me, after an initial moment of breathlessness: Hey. And then, after much thought: Wadup?
Johnny: Chillin @ the beach
My heart was doing cartwheels. I had to remind myself to breathe. In December!?
Johnny: Damn straight. Windy, but it’s warm 2day.
I thought I’d take the bull by the horns. I was, after all, the one who’d ended it. This was good. Him saying hi to me again was good. I couldn’t explain the nervousness. Or the sudden desire to both cry and laugh at the same time.
This was my Bull-by-the-Horns approach: So......I heard u...found...luv?
LOL. Cat—ever the prude
Cat.
Nicole was the second person to ever call me Cat. Alice, the third. But only Johnny used to melt my legs to butter when he said it.
Well, have u? I wrote.
Johnny: Are u sure u wanna hear about it?
I was sure I didn’t want to hear about it. Sure, we’re grown-ups, right? And friends...I hope.
Johnny: We’ve always been friends. Yes, I’m with someone.
Fist to the chest. Cool.
Johnny: I just wanted 2 say hi. And wish u a Happy New Yr. I miss our...talks.
A tear broke from my eye. A healthy tear, I decided. OK. Cool. I’m...really...glad u did. Really. Was that too needy?
No answer from him.
Me: Will u b...coming back 2 the states?
Johnny: Maybe. I just needed...time. Still do, I guess.
A deep weight settled on me. That’s what I had told him when I broke up with him. I understood the sentiment.
I want 2 hear about ur girl sumtime.
Johnny: No u don’t.
I do, I really do. I wasn’t lying. Only I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to know about her for the right reasons.
Johnny: I’ll think about it. Her name’s Susana—let’s start with that.
Susana. Have you slept with her? Is she good in bed? Do you hold her on the beach? Have you taken her to listen to fado—Portugal’s music of melancholy and broken hearts?
I didn’t ask any of these burning questions.
OK, Cat, seeya.
Me: Text again. Plz. Ur not even on FB these days.
I am. A pause. Second message: And I’ve seen all your fotos.
Oh. I haven’t seen any—
I didn’t finish writing because a third message from him came in.
Johnny: I haven’t liked any of them because I was giving u space. But they’re all very...moving.
I deleted what I’d written. Then: OK, give 1 of them a Like sometime. An “artiste” needs moral support.
Johnny: I’d rather not, Cat. And now’s not the time 2 explain. But I luv every 1 of them. Every 1, I promise u. I’m probly ur biggest fan.
I caught my breath. Then: OK, I answered.
Cat?
Yeah
I’m involved now. Susana’s a good chick. Plz don’t msg me. This was a big step for me, to contact you. I want us to restore our friendship...eventually. But it’s all I can take right now. I’ll text again...I promise. When I’m ready. I hope u understand.
Through wet eyes, I wrote, I do. And I’m sorry...for everything.
Johnny: You have nothing 2 b sorry about. Hopefully we can 1 day be in the same room again & look each other in the eyes...without...the pain.
I was speechless to that. So speechless.
I’ve said 2 much, he continued eventually. I must go. Do well. Take a shot of the Frisco bridge for me. We were in Big Sur at the time. Johnny no doubt knew this from the gray whale migration and the Bixby Bridge shots I’d posted on my FB page.
I wanted to tell him I missed him. I wanted to tell him I wanted to talk to him for hours.
But I knew I’d relinquished those rights months ago.
-5-
That we stayed in a place for several weeks sometimes, or crashed in cheap Motel 6 rooms, doesn’t mean we didn’t occasionally splurge.
Which is what we were doing at Big Sur.
Our cabin came with a fireplace and kitchenette, back and front deck. We booked for three days and got two more free because they were running an off-season special. Alice was inside, already asleep from a hike we’d taken earlier. Nic and I were on the deck, feet up on the railing, staring at a sky so clear it seemed every star winked right at me if I focused on it.
“Do you love him?” she asked me.
I’d just told her about Johnny’s texts.
I thought about it for a second, not yet comprehending the emotions in myself. “I’ve always loved him.”
“That’s not what I mean. I know you’ve always loved him as a friend. Hell, it was impossible to forget that in high school. Especially when I was dating him!” Nicole feigned irritation. Their relationship had been the kind young teens get into when first discovering their bodies.
“I don’t know. I mean, after he texted me yesterday, I was sad. I was. But it wasn’t like when my dad died. It wasn’t the same kind of sadness. It was more of a wistful, hopeful sadness. A sadness for what might have been.” Faintly, in the distance, the ocean murmured against the bluffs.
Nicole said nothing.
“Johnny was like my high school quarterback, you know? It was cool while it lasted. But it had no future.”
Again, she said nothing.
“Nic?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think?”
She put her wineglass on the table between us, stretched her legs out, tightened her coat. “I think you’re bullshitting yourself.”
“Huh?” The glass against my fingers went cold.
“You guys were animal magnetism personified. Lightning crackled whenever you were in the same room. The sexual energy was like a thunderstorm.”
A weight pressed down on me.
“Look,” she continued, “I know he’s with someone else now. But I also know that whatever you went through that made you push people away at the beginning of this year”—that was a euphemism for my dad’s brutal death—“you’re past that now. I can see it. Your skin-tone looks better. You smile more. You’re...happy, dare I say it. And I saw you when you were at rock bottom, Cat. So I know better than anyone that you and Johnny would not have survived that. You did the right thing sending him away. If it was me, well, I wouldn’t have told the guy he had my permission to shack up! But we all make our mistakes.
“But what I’m asking you now, is this: Now. Not before, not six months ago or in February. But right the eff now—do you love him? If he were standing right here in front of you, would you rip his clothes off and declare your eternal love for him?”
The answer wasn’t immediately apparent to me. And that was probably an answer in itself.
“Cat?”
“Uhm, yeah. I mean...yes and no. Yes, I’d rip his clothes off. Yes, for sure. But...” And then the answer came to me suddenly. “It’s not that I don’t love him, Nic. I do. I love him more than anyone will ever love him. And that’s a fact. It’s...that I don’t know if we’re right for each other.”
The rumble of the ocean receded. Some voices approached as people made their way over a gravel road to another nearby cabin.
“I don’t know,” I continued. “I don’t know what happened. I just don’t. One day we were right. And the next...everything was wrong. Everything. Johnny included.”
I shook my head, confused. Confused at my emotions.
After five minutes of silence, I got up and went inside.
-6-
When I came back outside, Nicol
e was hunched over her phone, typing on it like crazy. The bright white screen glowed like something out of a sci-fi flick in front of her. I was behind her. She hadn’t heard me coming.
“Nicole?”
She jumped! Turned. Her phone was clutched to her bosom protectively, screen facing her.
I eyed it suspiciously. “New boyfriend?”
She stared at me blankly, looked at her phone screen, clicked some buttons in an obvious gesture to conceal who she’d been speaking to.
My first guess was that she’d met someone she was interested in, but was scared of losing face by admitting it. Nicole was, after all, the uncatchable fish. I grinned. “Who is he?” I sing-songed.
“Uhm (cough), no—no, I wasn’t talking to a guy.” She looked nervous.
I eased on over to my chair. “OK?”
“It was nobody. I was just...” She didn’t finish.
“Fine, whatever.”
Her phone buzzed.
She looked at it, answered it quickly while hiding it from me. Then pressed a few more buttons, which I assumed was her putting it on silent.
She didn’t even comment on it.
-7-
The next day, Nicole snuck away to make a phone call at two. When I asked her who she was calling, she said, “A friend.”
“The same friend as yesterday?”
My elation disappeared when I noticed she wasn’t smiling.
“Don’t wait up,” she said.
When she came back a half hour later, her eyes were red, her nose sniffling.
“Hey,” I called out to her. “Hey, Nicole! What happened?”
Losing Johnny Page 2
