Weird Girl and What's His Name

by Meagan Brothers

  “What if somebody looked at you and couldn’t see anything horrible?” Seth asked.

  “Then I’d say they weren’t looking hard enough.”

  “I’m looking right now.” And he was. His eyes were burning right into mine. And then he kissed me. Wow. We kissed.

  “Seth—” I whispered. There were still all these things I wanted to say to him. I wanted to protest; he was a good person, a preacher’s son, a sweet guy with a dead brother who made mixtapes for girls he barely knew. And I was just some jerk who couldn’t even pull off being a proper teenage runaway. But what happened was that neither of us said anything. We kissed again, and then he took my face in his hands and held my forehead to his, like we were trying to mind-meld. I touched his cheekbone and felt his tears against my thumb. I don’t know why, but I was crying, too.

  We sat there like that for a while. My foot fell asleep. Then we stretched out in the truck bed and watched the stars while his Guided by Voices mixtape played and flipped itself over and played again and we heard the dance start to empty out, the other cars revving their engines and pulling away, and Seth told me not to worry about calling Leo because he would take me home.

  seventeen

  THE BOYS DIDN’T STAY UNDEFEATED. THEY were knocked out in the first round of the regional playoffs. Still, we had a lot to celebrate. I had finally passed the driver’s test. And Seth and I were—cue the normal—dating. It was my idea to have everyone over on Friday night for my big Peace Dinner. I was going to right all the wrongs of the past year with jalapeño cornbread, enchiladas, and tortilla soup. Of course, there would be a few notable absences. Rory was having a dinner of his own, celebrating his one-month anniversary with Speed. Jay was spending the weekend with a girl she’d met from Appalachian State; it was getting serious pretty quickly, because Jay was already talking about transferring her credits. And my mother was still halfway across the country, conveniently ignoring my existence. Still, I had made up little Tupperware containers full of Walter’s legendary jalapeño cornbread for each of the absentees—Janet was even helping me mail a care package to Tracy and her dad up in DC.

  So it was just Janet, Leo, Seth, and me. Which was actually kind of perfect. Leo wanted a chance to give Seth a proper grilling. Seth started off with bonus points for showing up in a sport coat and bringing his new iPhone.

  “I’ve been curious about these things.” Leo got out his reading glasses. “Mind if I take it for a spin?”

  “Spin away, sir.” Seth handed him the phone. Leo tapped away at the touch screen while Janet helped me set the food out on the table.

  “Leo’s already in hog heaven,” she whispered. “You know he goes crazy for a new gadget.”

  “That’s why I told Seth to bring it,” I whispered. “He’s actually kind of embarrassed about it. His dad got it for him to celebrate the end of the football season, and he doesn’t really know how to work it yet.”

  “Janet!” Leo called out from the living room. “Come look at this doodad! It does everything. I’m gonna get us a couple of ’em.”

  “You boys put away your toys and come eat while it’s hot,” Janet called back. Leo and Seth walked into the dining room, Leo so engrossed in the iPhone that he bumped into his chair.

  “This is quite a spread, Mrs. Monroe,” Seth said.

  “Thank you, honey, but the credit should go to Lula,” Janet said. “She’s been cooking all afternoon.”

  “Lula, you cooked all this food?” Seth looked across the table at me, surprised. “You didn’t even tell me. It’s amazing.”

  “You might wanna reserve judgment until after you’ve tasted it,” I warned. “Up until now, the only thing I ever cooked was Jell-O.”

  “It looks great,” Seth spread his napkin in his lap. “Mr. Monroe, would you mind if I said a few words before we eat? A blessing?”

  Leo and Janet exchanged a look. We never said a blessing.

  “Ah, sure, son. Go right ahead.”

  “This is one my dad likes to say.” Seth dropped his head. We all followed his lead. “‘As our bodies are sustained with food, may our hearts be nourished with love and friendship, in fellowship under God. Amen.’”

  “Amen,” Janet said. “Let’s eat.”

  “I can get the PGA scores on this thing,” I heard Leo mutter.

  The food was barely on our plates before Leo started the full interrogation. He kept it mostly about football, at first.

  “So, what are your plans, son?” Leo asked. “College? The Military? Military’s a fine career for an athletic young man like yourself.”

  “I’ve been offered a few football scholarships already—nothing big, but I’m still deciding,” Seth said. “I’m holding out for a school with a good nursing program. That’s the field I’d ultimately like to be in.”

  “Nursing, you said?” Leo furrowed his brow.

  “Yes, sir. I know, it sounds like a punch line. But when my older brother was sick, I saw how much help it could be, especially for a young guy like that, to have a male nurse. Some stuff’s kind of embarrassing to have to tell a woman, you know? And there was this one hospital where, whenever he had to be moved, they’d have to go get the janitor to help them, because the nurses were all so small. He’s a big guy. Was a big guy.”

  “Oh, honey,” Janet reached out and patted Seth’s hand.

  “And you’d rather be a nurse than a doctor?” Leo asked. I felt myself cringe.

  “I’d love to be a doctor,” Seth told him. “But with my grades, trust me, you wouldn’t want me to be the guy holding the scalpel.”

  “You’re doing a lot better,” I reminded him. “You just pulled your Chemistry grade up to a B plus.”

  “Because I’ve got all your notes from last year,” Seth said.

  “Now that you mention it, I’d rather have a male nurse, if I had to be laid up in the hospital,” Leo mused.

  “If you have to be laid up in the hospital, God help us all.” Janet rolled her eyes. “Seth, honey, where are you thinking about going to school? State-wise, I mean.”

  “The scholarships I’ve been offered so far are close to home. But my dad’s from Boston, and my mom’s from Texas. I have family in both places, so I’ve been looking at schools there, too. Wherever I end up, I’m hoping that, uh. That Lula will transfer her credits and come with me.”

  I nearly choked on a tortilla. Way to put me on the spot, Seth. I didn’t know what to say. We hadn’t talked about any of this. We spent most of our dates in his room or mine, either watching X-Files DVDs or playing GBV records. Seth schooled me on the different Guided by Voices lineups and side projects, and I explained the finer points of the myth arc. I’ll be honest, though: these debriefings were frequently interrupted by a lot of inappropriate giggling and kissing. Seth was turning me into a big mushy girl.

  Anyway, I knew that what Seth wasn’t telling Janet and Leo was that, grades aside, he wasn’t sure if he had the stomach to be a nurse. He already had a back-up plan, if he couldn’t take the blood and guts and bodily fluids. Seth wanted to open up a music store, right here in Hawthorne. Sell records, CDs. Books about music. Maybe even have in-store performances. Without a record store in town, the only place for kids to hear music, let alone buy it, was on the computer, which Seth found, as he put it, “unbearably lonely.”

  “What about you, Tallulah?” Leo asked. “You, ah. You given any thought to Boston or Texas?”

  “I haven’t really . . . decided anything yet,” I admitted.

  “Have you thought about it, though?” Leo pressed.

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking about . . . applying to the FBI,” I blurted out. I’d never told anyone that. Not even Rory.

  “The FBI!” Janet exclaimed. “Oh, honey, don’t do that. You’ll get yourself killed by terrorists.”

  “Yeah, Lula, come on,” Seth laughed. “It’s not all Scully and Mulder in real life.”

  “I know that. I know.” I looked down at my plate, suddenly embarrassed.
“I thought I’d be a good investigator. I always thought it would be cool to be in charge of finding missing persons. I just think . . . people shouldn’t be lost, you know?”

  “You can have a fine career in the Bureau, if that’s what you want,” Leo said. He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re a bright young woman. Every time you put your back into it, you’ve accomplished what you set out to do. I haven’t always been pleased with the results,” he cleared his throat.

  “Leo,” Janet whispered.

  “I haven’t always said it,” he went on. “Especially lately. But I’m proud of you, Lula. I’m proud of the woman you’re growing up to be. And I think that, if you choose to join the FBI, you’ll be an asset to their institution.”

  “Thanks, Leo,” I said. Thanks. It didn’t seem like enough. I still needed to say I love you, too, but this didn’t seem like the time or place.

  “Whatever you decide,” he swiped at his mouth with his napkin. “You’ve got this cooking down pat. This is the best damn cornbread I ever ate. Your mother taught you well.”

  “Actually it was Walter. My mother doesn’t—she never cooks,” I explained, suddenly feeling nervous. I couldn’t believe Leo voluntarily mentioned my mom.

  “Good man, Walter.” Leo nodded. “We should have him come out for a visit. You reckon he golfs?”

  “Golf? I, uh . . . I’m not sure.” I swallowed. Have Walter over for the weekend? Walter, my mother’s husband? The same mother we were pretending didn’t exist, right? I looked up at Leo. He frowned and cleared his throat again. Something he did when he was uncomfortable and would rather be smoking.

  “Son, let me have another look at that doodad of yours,” he said to Seth. “And explain these ‘apps’ to me one more time.”

  KIDKILOWATT: R U SERIOUS ABOUT THE fbi?

  It was like Seth was reading my mind. I was online researching FBI recruiting when he IMed me.

  BloomOrphan: I dunno. maybe. maybe another dumb idea.

  KidKilowatt: no, good idea! it just surprised me. I didn’t know u were serious. I should’ve backed u up tonite.

  BloomOrphan: prob crazy anyway. you have to pass a physical fitness test!

  KidKilowatt: u could do it! u ride ur bike everywhere.

  BloomOrphan: . . . not to mention having to shoot ppl and stuff.

  KidKilowatt: they have ppl who work in labs n stuff tho, right? u could be like the ppl mulder & skully go to for fingerprints & ballistics. ur so good at chemistry, u could do it, np.

  KidKilowatt: *scully, oops

  BloomOrphan: . . . maybe . . .

  KidKilowatt: just don’t fall 4 ur sexy partner. :(

  BloomOrphan: never!!!

  “Lula!” Janet knocked on my door. I jumped.

  “Yeah?” I turned around. She poked her head in.

  “You’ve got a visitor! Come downstairs.” She was grinning this big dumb grin. I figured it was probably Seth, outside on the porch, and he’d been IMing me from his iPhone this whole time. Janet was a sucker for romance.

  BloomOrphan: brb. janet calling.

  I left the computer on and followed Janet down the stairs. Well, knock me right over with a feather.

  “Rory Callahan, as I live and breathe.”

  “Hi,” he said. “Sorry I missed the big dinner. Is it too late to hang out?”

  “Not at all, honey,” Janet answered for me. “You two want some popcorn?”

  Popcorn. Janet used to make it for us on X-Files nights.

  “Sure,” Rory said, answering for me.

  “Howdy, Rory,” Leo called from his recliner. “You ever see What’s Up, Doc? It’s just about to start on TCM.”

  “I’ll take a rain check,” Rory said.

  “Suit yourself. It’s pretty darn funny.”

  “I’ll bring the popcorn up. You two go watch your show.” Janet shooed us upstairs. I walked back to my room in a daze, Rory following. He looked good. His khakis were pressed, and he had a new blue button-up shirt that made his eyes look extra-intense. He’d finally shaved his chin scruff, so he looked like himself again. But I didn’t feel like I used to. Like I was secretly pining away. I just felt happy. Glad to see him. Glad it was just the two of us, back in my room.

  “So . . . how was dinner with Speed?”

  “Great. We went to that new Korean fire-grill place. Man, that guy can eat.” Rory chuckled softly to himself. “How was dinner with Seth?”

  “I think it went well. Leo didn’t kill him.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Actually, this is him on IM. Hang on just a sec, let me say goodnight.” I bent over the computer keyboard.

  BloomOrphan: gtg. tty 2moro am. xo.

  “Since when are you reading House of Mirth?” Rory held up the book from my nightstand.

  “It’s for one of my classes. We had to pick a book for an extended essay project. You always told me I should read it.”

  “It’s one of my favorites,” he said.

  “I know. We watched the movie together.” I put the computer in sleep mode.

  “The book’s better.”

  “The book’s more depressing. I keep waiting for Lily Bart to get it together and kick Bertha Dorset’s ass, but it’s totally not going to happen, is it?”

  “Sadly, no,” Rory confirmed. “Edith Wharton’s novels are curiously devoid of ass-kicking. Who’s Walter?” He was looking at the shelf above the bed, to the place where I used to keep my mother’s things in a makeshift shrine. Her books were still there, behind a propped-up Dick Cheney pamphlet and the postcard Walter sent me.

  “My mom’s husband.”

  “Oh. Your stepdad.”

  “Something like that.” It was weird to think of him as anything other than just Walter. But I guess that’s what he was. “My stepdad. Yeah.”

  “He was a cool guy?”

  “Very cool. He kept World War Three from breaking out between me and her.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “She wasn’t cut out to be a mom. Her words. Hey, you wanna see something truly weird?”

  “Okay, but I’m warning you,” Rory said solemnly, “if it’s monkey pee, you’re on your own.” He broke into a grin, and so did I. Rory quoting Agent Scully lines at me? It was almost like old times. I slid my desk drawer open and fished out the family portrait.

  “It’s not monkey pee, but it is too weird to leave on public display.” I showed him the picture.

  “Is this your mom?”

  “And my dad. My real dad. And, technically, me. In utero.”

  “Wow. Look at you. Look at him. I mean, look at how you kind of look like him.”

  “I know. His name’s Peter Hubbell.”

  “Like the telescope?”

  “Yeah, but spelled differently. Still, pretty badass, right? I’ve got his phone number, but I haven’t called him yet. I’ve totally stalked him on Facebook, though.”

  “Why don’t you send him a message?” Rory studied the picture. “He looks like a nice guy.”

  “I dunno. Maybe someday. I’m not sure I’m really prepared to deal if he turns out to be a major jerk. Or if he just doesn’t care. I mean, he wasn’t exactly fighting for custody of me when my mom bailed.”

  “True,” Rory agreed. “But maybe he’s got a different side of the story.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Still, the whole mom thing was kind of a bust. I’m kinda maxed out on disinterested parents right now. Honestly, sometimes . . . sometimes I kind of wish I hadn’t gone out there to meet her.”

  “But if you hadn’t, you always would’ve wondered,” Rory said softly. He handed the picture back to me. I put it back in its drawer.

  “Yeah. Guess I had to burst the bubble sometime.”

  Rory nodded up at my wall. “What happened to your posters?”

  “Oh, yeah. I, um. Redecorated.” I shrugged. “Needed a change. You know.”

  “You threw them all away?”

  “Nah, they’re in the closet. In case I change my mind.�
��

  “Hey, if you ever decide to get rid of that I Want to Believe teaser poster, I call dibs.”

  “The one with Mulder and Scully walking away from each other, but their shadows cross and form an X?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Hmm . . . hold that thought.” I opened my closet door and took out the cardboard mailing tube that held all my rolled-up posters. I shook them out and unrolled them. When I found the teaser poster with the shadow X, I handed it to Rory. “Here. Take it.”

  “Seriously?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “You were so psyched when it came in the mail. Are you sure you don’t want to put it back up?”

  “I’m sure. That poster makes me sad, to be honest.” I picked around in the pen jar on my desk for a rubber band. “The thought of Scully and Mulder walking away from each other kind of bums me out.”

  “Me too,” Rory agreed. “But their shadows are still crossed. It’s like, even when they’re apart, they’re still together. It’s a cool, uh . . . visual metaphor.”

  “Consider that visual metaphor yours to keep.” I handed him a rubber band, and he rolled the poster back up. From downstairs, we could hear muffled voices. Barbra Streisand. Leo laughing. I sat at my desk. Hesitating.

  “Now, Theodore,” I started to speak to him in my pretend-mom voice, like I used to. But it didn’t seem to fit anymore. “Rory.” I reached into the top drawer of my desk. “I have something else . . . I wanted to give this to you.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a letter.” I handed him the envelope. “I wrote it after I got back, but I haven’t been—I haven’t had the courage to give it to you. It’s an apology.”

  “You already apologized.”

  “It wasn’t enough. I tried to think about how it must have been for you. Not knowing where I was, or what happened. I pretty much did the same thing to you that my mom did to me. And it sucks. It sucks to not know why somebody left you. Or to think that it’s your fault. When it wasn’t your fault at all.”

  “It was kind of my fault,” Rory said. “I should have trusted you. We were best friends and I shouldn’t have let anybody come between us. But I was afraid. I didn’t even realize how afraid I was until now. I was so afraid of losing this, like, ghost of a relationship that I almost lost my best friend.” His voice had gotten quiet. He went on. “Being with Tommy—Speed—makes me realize how much better it is, being with somebody who really cares about me and wants the same things I want. Somebody who isn’t afraid to be seen with me. I mean, we still have to be careful where we hold hands around town, but, like, Tommy actually really wanted to go to that stupid Homecoming dance with me. I think even if the legal thing hadn’t been an issue, Andy still would’ve wanted to keep me a secret. He still wasn’t even out to most of his friends and his family. He never wanted to introduce me to his kids, or—” Rory’s voice halted. “It’s just way better now. I don’t have to lie anymore. I should never have lied to you. And I really never, ever should have said all those hurtful things to you, and I apologize. I was such a jerk to you and I’m sorry. I love you. Lula. I never said that before. But it’s true. Maybe I can’t . . . love you like you want me to. Like a boyfriend. But you’re my best friend, and I love you.”