Pretty Things Don't Break

by Lauren Jayne

  Coming around the apple orchard-covered rolling hills, we were above the lake, winding down, turn after turn, until we were alongside it. It was breathtaking. The deep green water, completely surrounded by jutting mountains with white still kissing the tops, looked like a picture. Excited that we were finally here, we realized we had no idea where the boys were staying.

  Walking into our third hotel, Carmen said, “Hi, our brother is staying here, and he left without telling our mom, but we need to bring him home.”

  Just like that the ladies at the front desk handed over the guest roster. With a pointed finger, we looked for any names that we recognized.

  “I guess he’s not here. Thank you,” she said.

  It was getting a little dark, and we started to wonder what we’d do if we couldn’t find them. Carmen said we should check Darnell’s even though they’d never be able to afford it; we followed the big red D down to the lake and stopped. Using the same line, they handed over the guest registry.

  “Mike Jones. That’s Tawni’s dad, and she said they come here all the time on his weekends. Let’s go check.”

  We ran down to their room number, and the door was cracked, but it was dark inside.

  Carmen opened the door, peeked in, and said “Hello.”

  Tawni came out from the bathroom with bloodshot eyes. Wiping her mouth, she said, “Hi! What are you guys doing here?”

  Carmen told her, and Tawni invited us to stay with her. But we didn’t want to impose, and we’d rather be alone, so we left in search of a cheap motel.

  We dropped our stuff and used the phone to call Gayle to see if she knew where Ben was staying. Surprisingly, Ben picked up; he’d missed me and had Kurt drive him home early to see me. We decided to stay anyway––it was beautiful here and we’d driven a long way. Besides, Carmen and I were too far into girl mode to leave. The next day on the dock with our crunchy towels that Marge, the motel owner, had instructed us were not to leave the premises, we rolled into the water, so hot we couldn’t see straight. Eastern Washington was always at least ten degrees hotter in the summer and cooler in the winter than the coast. Just then we saw a bright yellow ski boat coming toward us. It was Tawni, with three guys.

  “Hi, wanna go for a ride? We’re going to ski later, too!” Tawni yelled across the water to us as we stood on the dock with our hands over our eyes to shade the sun.

  “What do you think, my ban de soleil girl?” Carmen asked.

  She called me that because she said with my white bandeau bikini, I looked just like the girl in the tanning ads. She clearly was blinded by her love for me.

  “Let’s go!” I said. And without another word we left our crunchy towels, dove into the freezing, crystal clear water, and swam to the boat, climbing up the ladder in the back.

  When we climbed onto the boat, Tawni’s dad and his friend seemed oblivious to us, thankfully.

  But Tawni’s younger brother Mike said hi, I guess he was named after his dad.

  “OK Mike, you’re going to make the girls uncomfortable; stop staring,” his dad said.

  Carmen was a beauty with her dark hair slicked back off her bronze face, full lips swiped with pink zinc and her willowy body in the tiniest bikini ever sold.

  Tawni’s dad stopped the boat in the middle of the lake, and Carmen and I almost died when he laid out the lunch he’d packed. On the little table, he put out fried chicken, cut up watermelon, wrapped corn on the cob and the softest rolls I’d ever felt. We filled our paper plates until they bent and sat Indian style on the pad on the back.

  Tawni’s dad asked, amused, “How can such tiny girls eat so much food?”

  When we couldn’t eat another bite, we lay in the front of the boat and let the hot wind blow over us as we bobbed up and down gently on the lake. Propping up on my elbow, I looked around me, trying to record the beauty that surrounded me. Thank you, God, for the lake and this breeze and our full tummies and the beautiful mountains. Thank you, God, for Carmen and… That second Tawni’s dad started the roaring engines and turned up Bob Marley.

  “Who wants to ski?” Tawni asked, looking like an Olympic gymnast with her short, fit, deeply tanned body. She and Carmen could have graced the cover of Seventeen magazine. Her voice always sounded like she wasn’t exactly sure of what she was saying, even if she was telling you her name. She and her brother Mike had the exact same golden blonde wavy hair and vibrant blue eyes.

  I just looked around the boat waiting for someone to answer.

  Carmen said, “Lor, why don’t you go? I’ve never seen you ski.”

  “That’s because I don’t. I mean I never have.”

  “Well, you have to!”

  “There is no chance that I’m going to learn to ski today in a boat full of strange men,” I whispered to her in front of the boat.

  “You’ve never skied?” Tawni’s dad said. “Then you’re in the right place; I can get anyone up.”

  “He’s right,” Mike said. “Dad had Tawni and I skiing on one ski before we were six.”

  “I want to do this with you,” Carmen continued. “I want to teach you how to ski, here on this perfect day. Just pretend it’s just you and me. You know, it’s always really just you and me, no matter who else is around, right?”

  “I know, and it would be cool to ski, but if I can’t do it, just be OK with it, alright? I’m not like you; you can do anything.”

  Sitting on the back swim platform with our feet in the clear water out in the middle of the lake, we could see the bottom.

  “Give her your life jacket,” Tawni’s dad said to Tawni.

  I was horrified, knowing that Tawni’s tiny jacket would never fit around my bikini.

  Carmen grabbed it, loosened it, and said, “Bitch,” and laughed.

  We jumped off the back, Carmen and Mike both in the water with me, giving me every tip imaginable.

  “OK, sit in the water. We’ll throw the rope to you; just look over your shoulder and let it come to you. When you have it, sit down and let the boat pull you. Then give the signal; just nod when you’re ready, let the boat pull you up, and then when you’re about half way out, stand up. Never let your arms be totally straight,” Carmen instructed.

  “And, when you fall…” Mike started.

  “Sweetie, I’ve got it,” Carmen said to Mike, smiling.

  Sitting in the freezing water, looking at Carmen, who was nodding her head like a first base coach, I thought, sit back, let it pull you. They threw the rope in and brought it around; I looked over my right shoulder, and it was there. Carmen was so smart. Then I gave a nod and Carmen gave Tawni’s dad the thumbs up and he hit the throttle.

  As my body lifted through the water and my skis sank, holding the rope in my hand as tightly as I could, I listened to Carmen in my head: stay seated and let the boat pull you up. Just then the rope grew taut, and I was up and out and over and down in the green water. The skis ripped off my feet, half of the lake was rushing through my nose and mouth, and my body tumbled through the water like a rag doll. When I popped up, all of my hair was in my eyes and the boat was nowhere in sight. Flipping my hair back and twirling around, I saw Carmen and Mike swimming out to me.

  “You OK? You did great!” Carmen said

  “Don’t swim out. I’m done. I’m good. It’s your turn,” I said.

  As they both got out to me, Mike was staring at my life jacket.

  “Mike, I’ve got it,” Carmen said. “Lor, your top, it’s around your waist.”

  Reaching down as fast as I could, I found my top all the way down on my bikini bottoms. I had to take my life jacket off to put it back on.

  “Car, I’m really done. I tried, and now I’m done.”

  “You were so close,” she said.

  I just looked at her.

  “Well, if you give it three more tries, I promise I’ll get you up.”

  “Don’t promise, it’s hopeless,” I said. “Besides, I don’t want to waste their day. They don’t want to watch some fool get th
rown around the lake. They’re all barefoot skiers!”

  The boat had circled around to check on us, and Tawni’s dad must have heard what I said, because he said, “I take this as a challenge; we’ll get you up, just trust us.”

  It was my fourth try, and my arms felt like noodles; if I didn’t have my life jacket on, I felt like my battered body would have drifted to the bottom of the lake. But I’d told Carmen three more, so this was it.

  I followed every step, closed my eyes, and took three calm, deep breaths. When I opened them and was reintroduced to what surrounded me, I almost cried. I got in position and said what I always say before I do anything.

  Feeling stupid for not remembering sooner, I said, “God goes before me,” and kept repeating it in my head.

  I gave the nod and Carmen gave the thumbs up. Mike hit the throttle, and my arms felt the tug when all the slack in the rope was gone. Dragging in seated position, I sat back while the boat started to lift me out, and then my entire body was out of the water. I was standing on the water, my shivering body dried by the hot wind. Hair blowing back, mountains racing by me, a perfect sprinkling of water trickling over my body. Then I looked down to make sure my top wasn’t around my waist again and tumbled face first into the water. I could hear Carmen’s cheers and the screaming from the boat as soon as my smiling face popped out from the water.

  That moment was one of best of my life. It was the first time I’d ever had someone rooting and cheering for me, and I’d never forget it.

  Chapter 19

  Lake Kachess

  Laini, who was dating Ben’s buddy Troy, picked me up in her bright red Jeep Wrangler for our Fourth of July trip with the boys to Lake Kachess. I pulled myself up into the passenger seat and threw my bag onto the pristine black floor behind us. Led Zeppelin blared as Laini handed me a cigarette.

  Pulling up to Ben’s house, we saw the guys’ duffle bags and cooler sitting on the driveway.

  Finally on our way, we headed back through town, past Brown Bear, down the lake road, and onto I-90 into tiny, sleepy Issaquah. This town had two attractions: a candy shop and an A&W drive-through. As we crept up and up toward Snoqualmie Pass, more and more trees surrounded us. In the front seat, Laini and Troy were smoking one cigarette after the other, listening to Led Zeppelin as the banging and thrashing of the soft top was so loud you had to scream over it. Ben was on my side playing with my hair and kissing my neck; then he tucked me into his arm, and we fell asleep in the bouncing Jeep. When we finally got to our destination, Ben jumped out, grabbed me around the waist, and carried me down the bank.

  Finding the perfect spot as close to the lake as possible, we set up our tents in the furthest corners from each other. Ours was made with perfectly taut sides and a high, proud middle. We organized the inside like an apartment: sleeping bags zipped together in the middle, Ben’s boom box with a bag of batteries next to it, and our two bags perfectly positioned in the corner. Laini and Troy were bickering as they fumbled with their tent and finally asked Ben to set it up for them.

  After a dinner of hotdogs on sticks dipped in mustard, and a few chips, we sat around our blazing fire. Ben was working on scratching our names with his red army knife into a fallen tree that acted as a bench in our camp area. Lighting up, Ben took a huge drag from a marble-looking pipe that Troy handed him, then leaned over to me, one breath from my lips. I opened my mouth and he blew the smoke in. We sat as the fire cracked off pieces of glowing orange and watched as they turned to ash in the night sky, Ben and me in one seat laughing and kissing while Ben played with my hair. Troy and Laini were across from us, each sitting on their own stumps. Troy was kicking into the fire and looking in his velvet bud bag that was always amply packed with a lighter, a few pipes, a bag of pot, and a pick to dig the resin out.

  Laini needed to go to the bathroom, so I helped her find one of the massive evergreens that surrounded us. We both went behind it. As I tied my Yazdi sash around my waist, Ben came up.

  “Lor, follow me. I just got you the best gift; you’re going to die. Follow me.”

  Hands linked, the four of us walked through the forest, crackling branches breaking under our shoes, and the sweet smell of pine and campfire wafting through the night air. Just before we headed down a hill, Ben took my sash and tied it around my eyes. With my hand in Ben’s, I wasn’t afraid; he guided me down the hill, one hand over my shoulder and one around my waist in the front. When the slope beneath us flattened out, Ben took the wrap from my eyes.

  Right in front of me, as if he’d wrangled it from the sky and plopped it onto the glassy, still lake, the enormous moon illuminated everything around us. The tree-covered mountains basked in its glow; it seemed to take up the entire lake. With Ben hugging me from behind, I realized that we’d been standing in front of this massive moon in silence with only the soft lapping of the lake onto the pebble covered ground beneath us.

  He nuzzled his face by my ear and said, “I knew you’d love it.”

  Tears were streaming down my face when he walked in front of me and leaned down to kiss me.

  “Seeing things through your eyes is like seeing everything for the first time,” he said in a sweet whisper.

  We sat on the ground before that moon all night, surrounded by the evergreens that dwarfed us. When Laini and Troy headed back to camp, Ben spread my sash on the ground, and we laid on it and kissed until the moon was replaced by the rising sun.

  The next day was spent frolicking on the lake, and we headed back to camp that evening sunburned and tired. Walking into our stuffy, stinky tent, Ben had Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love playing.

  “This song is for you,” he said. “You have all of my love.”

  Then he pulled me down to him, still wearing my damp black and green body glove bikini. As Ben’s hands navigated down my body, he got to my bikini bottom. After being together for nine months, he told me on a daily basis that he’d die if I didn’t have sex with him.

  “Lor, it’s been a hundred years, and I’m dying. I’m not being funny; my body is going to explode. I need you. You’re the only senior girl in existence that’s a virgin, why are you doing this to me?”

  Rolling over, a rock dug into my back; Laini and Troy were smoking out by the fire, and hearing them hacking wasn’t helping. The stuffy tent seemed to be closing in on us. Ben was kissing and licking every inch of my body. When his hand touched my stomach, I felt sick; Ben’s warm, loving hand was gone, and it became my dad’s. In my mind, I could only see my dad’s face, and the sound of Ben’s hard breathing in my ear sounded like my dad’s. Unable to take a breath, Ben’s body was suffocating me. His hands wouldn’t stop; he was oblivious that I was far away. Rolling away, fumbling for the zipped tent door, I stumbled out, running for a tree. Looking up, I saw the trees that had surrounded Carrie and me, and I felt like I would die. Laini followed me as I ran to the lake.

  “Well, are you?” she asked.

  “What?” I said, trying to catch my breath.

  “Are you still a virgin?”

  I guess everyone and their dog had thought this was going to be our big weekend. After patiently waiting for nine months, this Fourth of July weekend was somehow picked as our time, and I was nowhere near ready. Back at camp, Ben wasn’t talking to me, and I wasn’t talking to him. He smoked a bowl with Troy and cracked a beer; they sat by the fire while Laini and I took a walk in the woods.

  “Laini, I have to go. I can’t do this, and there’s no way I’m sleeping next to Ben; I gotta go.”

  Back at camp, I threw my things into my bag, ready to head into town. I knew I could call Carmen or Mandi from a pay phone at the little gas station I’d seen when we’d driven in.

  Ben’s first words to me in hours were, “Where are you going?” as he looked at me with my shoes on and my bag over my shoulder.

  “I’m going home.”

  “If you are, I am too.”

  “No, I want to go alone, and you guys need to stay; we have two more nights.”


  Laini said, “It’s okay. We’ll all go.”

  We threw our things in the Jeep and headed back. The drive home was brutal; nothing but the clanging of Laini’s Jeep could be heard for an hour and a half. Once at Ben’s, I jumped out, grabbed my bag, fumbled through my little black satchel for my keys, and started my car.

  When I pulled up to my house, I saw my dad’s car in the driveway, and my stomach sank. Sitting in the car under our maple trees, I felt trapped. Resting my head on my steering wheel, I grabbed my bag and crept up our front steps. Turning the key as quietly as I could, I heard Dad’s TV blaring. The house smelled like one of his crazy concoctions, like salami and grits. Tiptoeing upstairs to my room, I opened and closed the door behind me unnoticed. For months now, I had only come here to pick up clothes when I knew no one would be home. Everything felt dusty and musty. Lying on my bed, I stared at my two posters on the wall: Marilyn and a full-length poster of Jim Morrison in black leather pants. I was in love with his soul, but Carmen’s lipstick marks on his…made it look like I was in love with something else. Staring into Marilyn’s eyes, I thought, “I know you, and you know me, maybe better than anyone.” Breaking my fixed gaze, my eyes moved to Jim; his deep brown eyes made me feel the same: I was lost and found in his eyes, in his soul. I started to come up with a plan; I needed to get back to myself. I lay there thinking, who am I? What am I doing? I barely see my friends anymore, unless they start dating one of Ben’s friends. My music is Ben’s. I need to get back to my music and my friends and my life. Ben and I need to break up; and if he doesn’t understand what happened today and wants to be pissed at me, then he can be pissed and never talk to me again.

  Then the phone shook me out of my daydreaming state. I grabbed it at half a ring so that my dad wouldn’t hear it.

  “Lor, it’s me. I’m sorry. I was a jerk and I need to see you. Come over.”

  “OK,” I said.

  I searched my room for something clean to wear, but there was nothing. My favorite clothes were either at Ben’s or in a bag, dirty. Opening every drawer, I pulled out the best thing I could find. Pulling it on over my head and sliding it down over me, tugging and pulling, I heard my dad’s La-Z-Boy snap shut. He must have heard me. I grabbed my bag and ran down the stairs and out the front door. Scrambling down our front steps and to my car, I saw Dad run out to the overlook; he saw me and shook his head. I pulled down the hill.