by Claire Adams
“Are you?” I asked. “Seeing someone else?”
“No! You’d know if I was. But that day I ran into Graham at the coffee shop, I told him about the pictures and he said he didn’t care if I put them back up. So I did. And Michael messaged me!” Tara looked positively gleeful.
“You’re not planning on getting back together with him though, are you?” I asked, trying not to feel horrified at the idea. I sure hoped she wasn’t going to get together with him when he got here.
“Of course I’m not. I’m not an idiot. But he was very curious about whether or not I’d ‘found someone to replace him,’ as he put it. So ... I might’ve stretched the truth a little and told him that Graham and I were seeing each other. You should’ve heard how upset he was! Acting like he was all wounded that I’d found someone else. It was really unbelievable. So I asked him if he was still together with that girl, whatever her name is, and he told me that he isn’t. And then he asked if I’d meet up with him when he got here, because he wanted to talk.”
“Please tell me you said no.”
Tara hesitated, and I knew that she’d agreed to see him. “I just want to tell him in person,” she said. “I want to tell him that he’s a piece of shit, and I also want to be able to turn him down when he asks me back out. Because I know he’s going to.”
“Tara.” I shook my head. “He is an entitled prick. He is not going to take no for an answer, and you’re really just antagonizing him. He is not someone who is used to hearing ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Well, he’s going to get used to it, because that’s exactly what he’s going to hear from me. Anyway. The other thing I wanted to tell you was there is an awesome party happening tonight. On the beach. And you should invite Graham.”
“He went out for a bike ride.”
“Yeah, but I bet he’s not going to be doing that all day. This party will be off the hook! If it sucks, we don’t have to stay, but I doubt it’s going to. Text him now and ask. We can meet up at his shop or whatever, and all go in one car. Come on, Chloe! This is the new you, and the new you is someone who goes to a beach party with the man she’s having sex with!”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “You’ve convinced me.” I grabbed my phone out of my purse and texted Graham, asking him if he wanted to go.
*****
It was hard to tell how many people were on the beach, but probably at least sixty or seventy. There was a bonfire and some sort of club-type music being blasted from someone’s speakers. There was also a row of coolers, with beer, wine, and even some champagne.
“Quite the party,” Graham said as we walked through the soft sand.
“This is a private beach, so we don’t have to worry about the cops bothering us,” Tara said, skipping ahead.
I scanned the faces of some of the people. It was dark, so it was difficult to see anyone too clearly. I recognized a few of the faces, but it wasn’t anyone that I would say I was friends with. I felt a flare of nervousness, but then Graham reached over and took my hand. He wouldn’t know anyone here either, and he seemed completely unbothered by this fact.
“Let’s get something to drink,” Tara said.
Everyone was quite friendly, whether because they were nice people or because they’d been drinking. As we walked over to the coolers, though, who should I happen to catch sight of but Parker.
“Oh, shit,” I said under my breath.
“What?” Tara asked.
I nodded. “Look who’s here.”
She saw him, but shrugged. “So what? There’s enough people here you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. What do you want to drink?”
Graham opted for a beer and I took one of the bottles of hard lemonade, figuring that that would be the least gross-tasting of all the choices. And it actually wasn’t that bad. I took a few sips and almost immediately felt myself start to relax a little. So Parker was here. Big deal. Tara was right; there were enough people here that I could easily avoid him. He was talking to a gorgeous girl who looked like she was probably a model or something. If he’d been at all upset about our conversation earlier, he certainly wasn’t showing it now.
*****
As the evening progressed, I had another hard lemonade, and then started playing Frisbee with a few people down near the water’s edge. Sports might not have ever been my forte, but I’d always been good at Frisbee, even in the dark, even a tiny bit tipsy. Graham was talking to a few guys who were interested in getting tattoos. Tara was off somewhere, probably looking for a guy to hook up with. And here I was, at a party, having fun. I couldn’t believe how good I felt.
Eventually, I wandered back over to the coolers, this time looking for water. I found more beer, a few bottles of whiskey, and some more hard lemonades, but no water. I was about to give up when someone brushed up against me as they leaned down to grab a beer out of the cooler.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, before realizing it was Parker.
“Hey there, you,” he said. He had a goofy smile on his face and was slurring his words, just a little bit. He came over and gave me a hug. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”
“Hi, Parker.”
He wagged a finger at me. “Now listen, I just want you to know that there’s no hard feelings, okay? None at all, and I mean that.”
I smiled. “That’s good ... I’m glad to hear it.”
“Yes.” He held up his beer bottle as if to make a toast. “No hard feelings at all. You know, you’re right ... I’m not the kind of guy who’s used to getting turned down. Not that I’m saying I’m perfect or anything, but ... girls don’t usually turn me down. So it was a little surprising. But it also doesn’t count, I don’t think now, does it?”
He took a big swig of his beer and then looked at me expectantly.
“Um ... I don’t know?” I said finally.
“Well, if you don’t know, let me tell you: it doesn’t count. Because for it to count, the person who turned me down would have to be someone that I was actually interested in. Someone that I was actually attracted to.” He leaned closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Not that you aren’t pretty. You are. But I’m just not attracted to you. You and I ... we just don’t have that je ne sais quoi.”
I took a step back. “Okay, Parker,” I said. “We don’t have to talk about it. It’s fine. I really wasn’t trying to insult you or anything, I just—”
“You didn’t insult me!” he shouted. “This is what I’m trying to tell you: I was never interested in you. So the fact that you are not interested in me is not insulting. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you.”
“Then why did you keep bugging me to hang out with you?”
“Because your father cornered me that night of the party! He said if I went out with you this summer, then he’d make it worth my while.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right. That’s ridiculous.”
Parker shook his head. “It might be, but that’s what we were talking about.”
“What was he going to do? Give you money? It’s not like you need money.”
“You’re right; I don’t need money. And if that’s all he was offering, then I would’ve said no.”
“What was he offering, then?”
“He was offering me a job.”
“A job?”
“Right. Job. J-O-B. Say it with me now. Jaaayyyy—ohhhhh—beeeeee—”
“So my father offered you a job if you would go out with me,” I repeated.
“Ding ding ding! We have a winner!” Parker clapped, sloshing beer over his hands.
“And how long were we supposed to go out for?”
“The end of the summer.”
“Then what? What happened at the end of the summer?”
“We’d just ... I don’t know. Go our separate ways. It wasn’t like this was going to be something that would last.”
I nodded. “I see.” I tried not to think about what would happen if I had really ended up falling for Pa
rker. I’d spend the whole summer, thinking that things were great, only to have us “go our separate ways,” as he so put it, once summer was over. “Well. Thanks for being honest with me, I guess.”
“It’s no problem. I’m glad you know.” He held his beer bottle up and looked at it, as though he were surprised to find he was still holding it. “I just thought you should know.”
And then he stumbled off. I watched him go, wanting desperately to not believe a single word he just said. He was drunk! He was just talking nonsense! I kept telling myself that even though I knew it wasn’t true—my father had offered Parker a job at his hedge fund if he would go out with me.
I didn’t know how long I stood there for, my feet buried in the cool, soft sand. Eventually, Graham came over.
“Hey,” he said. “Here you are. Everything okay?”
I didn’t say anything right away. I felt if I were to actually speak those words out loud it would make them true, so if I just pretended that the whole conversation hadn’t taken place to begin with, then it could be like it had never happened.
But it had. I could picture my father, the night of the party, talking to Parker, me and Tara standing across the room, giggling about whatever it was they were conversing about. That was probably exactly when it was happening.
“No,” I said. “Everything is not okay.”
“What?” Graham asked, a look of concern on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I just need to go home.”
“Chloe.” He placed his hand on my shoulder, his eyes locked onto mine, searching my face. “What’s going on?”
“I’m okay,” I said. “I just ... I just found out something really shitty. I don’t want to get into it right now. I just need to go back to my house. Would you drive me back to my car?”
“Yeah, of course. And you don’t have to tell me what’s happening, but ... you’re all right?”
I knew it wasn’t fair of me to be so vague, but I didn’t want to say anything to him, or to Tara, or to anyone, about it just yet.
*****
Graham drove me back to my car. We sat there in the front seat of his truck for a moment, the engine idling. He reached over and held my hand.
“Well, call me if you need to,” he said. “I hope whatever’s happening gets straightened out. If I can help you at all, just let me know, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, staring out the windshield. He didn’t let go of my hand though, until I looked at him.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said. “Whatever it is.”
We kissed quickly and then said good night. I got out and he waited until I was in my own car and driving off before he left. I kept the radio off and drove in silence.
I thought that maybe I wouldn’t say anything, but then I realized there was no way I could just keep quiet about this. Then I thought that maybe I would wait to bring it up, I would think about what I wanted to say, I would be rational. But the more I thought about what my parents had done, the angrier I got. By the time I got home, I was fuming.
The lights were on in the living room, and they were in there together, drinking their wine and watching TV.
“Chloe?” Mom called. “Is that you?”
I slammed the front door.
“Darling! You don’t need to shut the door so hard!”
I stomped down into the living room. They were both on the couch.
“Good,” I said, “I’m glad you’re both here. There’s something that I need to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” My mother leaned forward and set her wine glass down on the coffee table. “Is everything all right?”
“No,” I said, barely able to keep my voice from shaking. “No, everything is not all right at all, actually. I just got back from a beach party.”
“That sounds lovely! Did you have fun?”
“Don’t interrupt me.”
“Chloe!” My father looked at me sharply. “Don’t talk to your mother in that tone.”
“No, Dad, actually, you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore! Do you know who I happened to run into at this beach party? Parker. And do you know what Parker happened to tell me? He told me that the only reason he was calling me to hang out these past couple of weeks was because you had told him to! And you promised him that if he did, you’d get him a job. Is that true?”
My father looked at my mother. My mother looked back at him and then leaned forward to get her wine glass. Enough of an answer for me.
“I can’t believe you,” I said. “The two of you. Why would you do that? Why the hell would you ever think something like that would be okay?”
“Parker is a good kid from a good family,” my father said. “We thought the two of you might hit it off.” He held his hands up. “There were no bad intentions there.”
“No,” I said. “It’s so much more awful than that. It’s not that you two thought the two of us would make a cute couple; Dad, you offered him a job if he would go out with me! So you’re basically saying that I’m not good enough—you had to also throw in employment as part of the package.”
“You know I don’t think that at all, Chloe. You know I think the world of you.”
“Oh, really? I’m suddenly finding that really hard to believe, considering you don’t think that I can get a date unless you offer something else, too.”
My mother pressed her fingers to her temples. “It’s really not like that, Chloe, okay? It’s not. I know it might seem that way, but your father and I only want what is best for you. We don’t want to see you going down the wrong path. We also want to see you happy and succeeding. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“I just don’t understand what Parker has to do with any of that. Especially if he wasn’t even interested to begin with.”
“We were trying to help you, Chloe. We thought you needed a little bit of a ... nudge, I guess. You’ve never really dated anyone before, and I just didn’t want to see you getting involved with the wrong sort of person. It’s not as though we were necessarily expecting things with Parker to be a long-term arrangement or anything, but ...” My mother shrugged. “Your father and I both agreed that he’s an upstanding young man from an excellent family and he’d make a good first date for you.”
I shook my head and looked up at the ceiling. Was this really the conversation I was having right now? “We are not in some third-world country where the parents get to arrange their kids’ marriages!” I exclaimed.
My mother laughed. “We weren’t expecting you to get married! Goodness.”
“Just stop it! I can’t continue this conversation with you because you’re not even willing to admit what you did was completely messed up! Just totally wrong in every way. There is no way you can spin this to make it right, except you don’t even see that!”
“Chloe,” my father said sharply. “I don’t think I like the tone you’re taking with us. You can be upset if you want, but that’s not license to be disrespectful.”
*****
I went into the bathroom with the scissors and before I even left myself think about what I was doing, I started to chop my hair off. I thought about that girl, the waitress we’d had in Provincetown, with the short, pink hair. I wasn’t going to dye my hair pink—not right now, anyway—but I cut it as short as I could, except in the front. I left the front pieces about three inches long and brushed them to the side. I wasn’t a professional stylist and I used a mirror to see the back, so what hair I had left looked choppy, but not bad. I studied my face in the mirror. My head felt a lot lighter now. I turned to the left, then to the right. My neck seemed longer. My jawline looked different. I liked how I looked. Without all that hair, my cheekbones seemed more prominent, my eyes larger. I’d cut more than a foot of hair off, and it covered the bathroom floor. I did my best to clean it up, and then I hopped in the shower. I barely had to use any shampoo, and when I got out, instead of having to wrap my hair up turban style, I just rubbed my head a few times with a towel, ran
my fingers through my bangs, and that was that.
My mother let out a shriek the next morning when I came downstairs.
“Chloe!” she yelped, her hand on her chest. “What have you done to your hair? I thought you were an intruder for a second! Oh, my god.”
She was standing there at the counter, in her bathing suit and sheer coverall, spooning sugar into her coffee. She let go of the spoon and it clattered on the marble surface. Her mouth hung open and she blinked at me several times. She looked over at my father, who was sitting at the breakfast table with the newspaper.
“You didn’t actually do that,” she said. “Tell me this is just some sort of optical illusion. Tell me you did not cut off all of your beautiful hair!” Her voice rose with each word. She almost sounded hysterical.
“It’s no optical illusion. I gave myself a haircut. It’s not a big deal.”
“It most certainly is a big deal! You look like ... you look like ...”
“What? What do I look like?”
“Well, I don’t know! Like you belong in the circus or something. Chloe, how could you do such a thing?”
She started to cry.
Not sobbing, but her eyes started to well up and a tear slid down the side of her face.
“Oh, god, Mom,” I said. “Stop it. It’s just hair. Would you be crying if I had cancer and had to go get chemo and lost my hair?”
“But you don’t have cancer! If you had cancer, there’d be a reason you had to lose your hair! You don’t have a reason! You just did this because you want to spite us! What is going on with you, Chloe? I mean, really.” She wiped at her eyes.
“Mom, you’re making something out of nothing. It’s just hair; it’ll grow back. If I let it, that is. I actually like it short like this. I’ve never had short hair before, did you know that? Of course you know, because you’d never let me have short hair when I was a kid.”
“That is not true.”
“Yes, it is. You were always saying how I had such long, beautiful hair and I should never cut it. And you know what? I never did. Because that’s what I thought you wanted, and I just always went along with what you guys thought I should do.”
