Elsewhere, California

by Dana Johnson

  Someone in a room somewhere is saying, Oh. My. God. No fucking way, dude. Random!

  Hello?

  Dad, I say. Who won?

  You didn’t watch the game?

  No. Not all of it.

  Why not?

  Anika wanted to watch something else. It’s her TV. So.

  Yeah, Dad says. Her TV.

  Who won the game?

  You sound tired. You tired?

  No. I’m not tired. I pull on the phone cord to straighten all the tight curls and then I watch it spring back.

  She ought to let you watch that game. You not asking her all the time, are you?

  No. I never, ever do. That’s the thing. She makes me sick. Uh huh. Stay in school, you can buy all the TVs you want. Won’t need to ask nobody.

  They lost, didn’t they?

  Yeah. Jack Clark hit a home run off of Niedenfuer.

  Dang.

  All you can do is start thinking about next season, now. That’s the end of that.

  Anika cracks open the door. She needs to use the phone. I make her wait for two seconds before I let her know I’m going to get off. Now I know something I never knew before. There are some people who have never had to wait. Or even ask. Like Anika. It makes you an asshole. A bitch, like Brenna said. I’m getting tired of always asking and waiting. I say, I have to go, Dad.

  All right then, he says. Hey. In two days you gone be eighteen years old. You a old woman now.

  That makes me laugh. No, I say. I’m not old yet. Wait till I’m forty. That’s going to be old. Old and wise.

  If you lucky, Dad says. If you lucky.

  So far, I say. But I don’t even know if I’ve been lucky or not.

  Dad says, Next season. They’ll be all right next season. That’s the beginning of something new.

  All right, Dad. Next season, I say. And I believe it.

  THESE GIRLS ACROSS the hallway, I think I like them. I hang out with them lately in the dorm. One is the daughter of some senator in Virginia. Her name is Adelaide Randolph. She’s tall and skinny like all the girls who still call themselves cows even though I’m like thirty pounds heavier than they are. Adelaide has brown hair and green cat eyes. Long nails with French tips. She dresses like Michael Jackson. Completely. The black hat, the black and red leather jacket. The black pants white socks black loafers. She even has the glove. Crazy. And she pulls it off, that’s the thing. I’d look like I was smoking something if I walked around USC like that. Even though I’m the black one, she totally owns the look. Some people can get away with anything.

  Her roommate is this super cool girl named Lavendar. Her actual name. Dar for short. But everybody calls her Nurse, because of her major. Her parents were hippies or something, and now they’re loaded and living in Berkeley. Nurse always wears her hair in two long braids and a baseball cap. San Francisco Giants. Jesus. But I like Nurse, so we don’t talk about baseball.

  It’s Spring Break and they want me to go to Palm Springs with them. I don’t have any money, though.

  You got credit cards, don’t you? Nurse says.

  Yeah, Adelaide says. I got my Dad’s Amex, so we’re totally there. You’re going. Don’t even.

  So I’m going to Palm Springs with them.

  I can’t believe you’ve never been to Palm Springs, Adelaide keeps saying. I’m not even from here and I’ve been like, so many times.

  I know, I say. I don’t know.

  Adelaide drives her black Jag and plays Michael Jackson over and over again. All Michael. “Thriller.” “We Are the World.” “Pretty Young Thing.”

  Ugh, Nurse says. Something else, please, but Adelaide says, My car, dude. Shut the fuck up. She turns up the music and then yells, We’re going to scam on some dudes! Two for me, one for you, Nurse.

  Hey, I say. What about me? I’m sitting in the back seat and I pat Adelaide on the back of her head.

  We’ll see if there’s some hot brothers for you in Palm Springs, Virgin. She always calls me that because she thinks it’s funny. She keeps saying, There is no Santa Claus, Virgin. Or Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy. That’s what holding out’s like. Like you’re waiting for one of those lame things to come along and make you happy.

  Yeah, Nurse says. Her foot is sticking out the window. She moves her feet to “Beat It” and points her big toe every time on the word It. After a while, nobody talks anymore and we just look out the window. I have never seen this before. Not even on TV, that I can remember. Miles and miles of sand and dirt and weeds and mountains the color of three different kinds of mustard. Dark yellow, almost brown, bright yellow like French’s mustard, and a yellow with lavender going straight through it. The rocks on the hills look like Mars and the windmills look like giant white men with the arms waving at me like crazy. Over here. Over here.

  I want to get out of this car and run as fast as I can, up the mountains. The sky is blue, like swimming pool water, and the air is hot in our faces and smells good like a shirt that just came out of the dryer, warm and soft against my cheek. And the light. How to explain the light on the mountains? We are still in California, but the light doesn’t seem real, it feels like a different planet, Mars on a movie set, spotlights on the rocks, ten times stronger than the sun. Like somebody is yelling Action, flashing gold all around. How would I make this color if I tried? This is Palm Springs, California.

  Before we get to the hotel, Adelaide stops at a liquor store so we can get some alcohol with her fake ID. She comes to the counter with vodka and beer and Bartles and Jaymes peach wine coolers for me because that’s the only thing I can think of. I don’t drink. But I will this week. Mom and Dad don’t have to know about it. Adelaide says, Get this, will you? I’ll get the next round.

  Uh, I say. Sure. But when the sunburned guy at the cash register adds it all up, it’s like thirty bucks, which seems like a lot of money to me. Plus the hotel that we’re going to have to split for 150 bucks apiece. Miss? the guy says. And I guess it’s okay, since Adelaide and Nurse will get some of the other stuff. Adelaide uses her dad’s credit card, and Nurse doesn’t have to work because her parents pay for everything, but still.

  When we get to the hotel, it’s all totally worth it. Gorgeous. A view of the hills and green all around the pool with huge palm trees that look like they’re sparkling whenever there’s a breeze. White deck chairs are on all four sides of the pool and there are four bungalows facing each other. Sliding glass doors let us out to the pool and first thing, Adelaide and Nurse are practically naked. Bikinis, even though they’re supposed to be cows. I wear shorts and a long white T-shirt that covers the shorts. Grandma, Nurse says. Shit. You don’t have a swimsuit?

  Damn. Wear some more clothes, Laura Ingalls, Adelaide says. Where’s your fucking bonnet?

  No, I say. No swimsuit. Not since the fifth grade.

  But don’t you want to get in the water? Nurse says.

  Yeah, Adelaide says.

  No. I’m not getting in the water. I don’t really like it, I say. Why do they like the water so much? It’s good if it’s hot but after that. But they won’t shut up about it. Even if I wanted to, there’s my hair. If it gets wet I have to put all the Jheri Curl spray in it to moisturize it all over again, and I just don’t want to be thinking of hair. So I just tune them out. I put on my Walkman headphones and listen to Squeeze, humming, Tempted by the fruit of another, tempted but the truth is discovered, feeling the hot air blow across my body like somebody’s hot breath in my face and on my neck and across my legs. I close my eyes and dream and sweat runs down the sides of my face and into my T-shirt. I think, I am on Spring Break in Palm Springs, like a regular college girl. The heat takes me in and out of sleep. I keep my eyes shut, seeing the black, the red of my eyelids, smears of yellow, music in my ears, feeling like rubber from the vodka and wine coolers. It seems like hours and hours pass. And then, my eyelids go completely black. Someone is blocking the sun.

  Ladies, this guy says. He’s got two beers in his hands. Coronas with lime.
He holds them out to Nurse and Adelaide. They look at each other and roll their eyes. But if they don’t want the beer, I’ll take it. I’ll take a beer from this guy.

  My name is Tad, he says. He puts the beer down on the pavement and crouches down. He balances himself perfectly on his feet, his hands on his knees. His hair is sticking straight up and is white in places, like he streaked it. Or the sun bleached it. His face is peeling a little bit, but he still looks good to me, even though his eyes are covered by Ray-Bans. But then he pushes them up over his head. His eyes are gray and his eyebrows are bleached too. He looks like he surfs, like you’d see him in a Gidget movie. Some’50s guy, that’s what he looks like.

  He goes, You guys party?

  No, Nurse says. We don’t.

  Look at me, I’m thinking. Look at me. Look at me. Ask.

  I’ll just leave these here, then, Tad says. Just in case.

  Uh huh, Nurse says.

  Thanks, Adelaide says, and flicks her hand at his back when he turns away. Like, Shoo. You bother me.

  You guys, I say. You guys are cold. Why’d you shine him like that?

  He talked to us wearing sunglasses, Adelaide says. I couldn’t even see his face at first. She sits up and splits her ponytail in two pieces to tighten the rubber band. She lies back down. She says, I’m supposed to take a beer from some dude who doesn’t even know that he’s supposed to take off his sunglasses when he’s talking to people? Please. And then he brings two beers? There’s three of us. Asshole. No class whatsoever.

  He was cute, though, Nurse says. She shields her eyes and looks over at the group of people he’s with. All dudes.

  Yeah, I say. I liked his eyes.

  Adelaide sits up again and looks at me. She gets up and stretches and the lines from the chair make a pattern all over her butt and back. She’s wearing a black bikini that’s sagging in the ass. But she won’t eat anything. Ever. She puts her hands on her hips and points her chin at Tad’s group. Too bad they don’t have any brothers for you, Ave. We need to find you a brother on this trip. If I was a black dude, I would totally go for you.

  Why?

  Because, Adelaide says. She squirts some Bain de Soleil in her hands and rubs it all over her stomach and legs. She pulls her sunglasses down over her face and I can’t see her eyes. She says, You’re cute. Nice eyes. Nice smile. Totally mellow. She stops talking and then she says, You know.

  But I don’t know. Only black guys like nice smiles and nice eyes and mellow girls? I drink some more vodka and orange juice. Another cooler. I keep my sunglasses on and look at everybody lying around and swimming and drinking. There are no black guys. There are no black girls. There’s only me.

  I just keep sleeping and drinking and listening to music. Joy Division, The Smiths, Elvis Costello, Nik Kershaw. Time goes by fast and it goes by slow. The sun is going down and there’s the breeze and I want to stay out here all night. I can just stay out here in this chair.

  But there aren’t that many people out anymore. The ones out here are quiet and cooling off from cooking all day. And where are Nurse and Adelaide? Nothing in their chairs but damp towels, like they used to be there but melted away. Evaporated. Like I imagined them. Imaginary friends, I say, laughing. That’s so funny. I get up and get another wine cooler out of the Igloo next to Adelaide’s chair.

  I take it with me because I’m going to do something.

  A guy is sitting on the edge of the pool, drinking a beer, so I get up and go to him. I feel good, like I’m floating. I can feel the hot concrete come up through my feet, travel up my legs and then my face. I sit next to the guy. Close. Put my legs in the water.

  Look, I say. Isn’t that trippy how your leg looks like it’s almost in two pieces when you put it in the water?

  He looks at my legs and then at me. He smiles, but just a little. He’s dark. Super tan. Black curly hair and thick fingers that have hair all over them. What is he? Is he Italian or Greek or Mexican or something else I don’t even know? He’s not black. That, I can tell.

  I put my hand in the water. I pull my hand out of the water and just stare at it. It looks like an old person’s hand.

  I put my hand in the water again and when I take it out, I dribble water up his leg. He looks at me funny, with squinty eyes and his head turned like James Dean does in Rebel Without a Cause.

  I’m Costas, he says. He looks at me hard, like he’s studying me.

  I’m Avery.

  You feeling good, Avery?

  Yes, I say. I am. I am, Costas.

  He nods at my T-shirt. It says Trojans. What year? he asks.

  Freshman.

  Senior.

  Go Trojans, I say, and punch my fist in the air.

  He laughs. I guess, he says. He peels a little bit of the label off his beer. Drinks some. Puts it back down.

  I like Costas. He’s golden, I swear to God, and his hair is making these tight waves all over his head, little shiny brown bows all over. I lean into him and smell coconut. I kiss him on the cheek. He leans away from me.

  Man, he says. Avery. You’re wasted, girl.

  Yes, I say. I like it though! He shakes his head, and I put my hand on his thigh and he looks at my hand for a long, long time. I move my hand up a little bit, just to see what he will do. There’s nothing bad he can do to me. Maybe say stop and that’s not going to kill me. I’m not wondering if he thinks I’m cute because I think he’s cute. That’s all that counts right now. He doesn’t take my hand off. He stares straight ahead at the hills all rocky and orange. I say, The sun’s going down, and move my hand up some more. The tip of my finger is underneath his shorts.

  Check out my boy Costas, someone yells behind us. Getting him some chocolate! He turns to yell at the guy, and when he does, my hand falls off his leg. You idiot, he says over his shoulder. You fool. He stands up, and then he gets up and walks off toward my bungalow, but then he disappears. I don’t want to sit at the pool by myself with those jerks behind me, so I get up too. I walk toward my room. I’m about to pull on the sliding glass door when I hear someone behind me.

  Come here, Costas says, and pulls me to the side of the bungalow where it’s dark and nobody can see us. He puts my face in his hands and kisses me. He says, You got nice lips. What were you trying to do back there?

  I don’t know. I rub the front of his shorts.

  Shit, he says. Okay.

  He sticks his hand underneath my T-shirt. He feels my boob and I slide down the wall. My legs won’t let me stand up again. I think for two seconds. I hear Mom telling me to keep my legs closed. But my legs want to be wide open. Let’s do it, I say. Let’s do it.

  Slow down, girl. He kneels down and holds my face again. He stares into my eyes. Fuck, he says. You’re just too drunk. I’m not doing that. That’d be fucked up.

  I’m not that drunk, I say. He’s hard and I touch him. He takes a deep breath. I say, I swear I’m not that drunk.

  Okay, he says. He looks around. You can suck my dick, but that’s it. Here, he says, and lies down on his back. He pulls down his shorts. I kneel over him, thinking after this he’ll be so into me, after this, even though I don’t know what I’m doing. He talks to me the whole time. Don’t just lick it, he says. Move your head up and down. Watch the teeth, though. Use your hands, too. Not that hard, though. No, that’s too gentle. A little hard. Yeah, like that. He’s moaning. He’s saying yes and he’s coming and I don’t know what to do, so I swallow.

  I’m still kneeling over him and I smile. He puts his fist to his forehead and stares up at me. He says, You didn’t know what you were doing, did you?

  No, I say. I never did that before.

  He sits up, pulls up his shorts. Looks at me like he’s almost mad at me. Don’t tell me you’re some kind of virgin or some crazy thing.

  I am, I say.

  What are you, crazy? That’s what you want? Some guy you don’t know? On the side of a hotel room? Drunk?

  I don’t care about that, I say.

  He sha
kes his head. Then I’m glad. I’m glad we didn’t do that. And be glad I’m not a grade A asshole, either.

  You’re nice, I say. I like you.

  He smiles at me. He slaps my face soft like those Italians in The Godfather and then he strokes it. You’re a trippy girl, he says. Let’s get you to your room.

  We walk around the corner, but when I pull on the sliding glass door it’s locked. I pound on it and Nurse pulls it open. She looks at me and frowns at Costas.

  She’s better now, Costas says. But she was kind of trashed.

  I’m fine, I say. Fine, fine, fine.

  Thanks, Nurse says, and pulls me in. Peace out, she says to Costas. But she doesn’t smile and she slides the door so hard the glass wobbles.

  There’s some guy in bed with Adelaide, passed out. I can’t believe they didn’t wake up when Nurse slammed the door. Who’s that? I walk closer to the bed so I can see his face. Cute. He’s cute. It’s the surfer dude from earlier.