by Lauren Jayne
“You know, when I first saw you at Jeani’s you were so beautiful, I was speechless.”
I just looked up at Warner and laughed.
“Seriously, when I told Jeani you were out of my league, she said you were one of the sweetest girls she’d known. You don’t look sweet.”
I looked at Warner this time and said, “What do you mean I don’t look sweet?” I wanted to go home.
“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that girls that look like you don’t have to be sweet, and so they usually aren’t. I’m sorry, I’m just kind of nervous,” Warner said.
We sat at a little table by the window looking out at the moon-soaked lake until the restaurant closed around us. Warner took me to dinner every night and out for coffee every day after that. Walking hand in hand down Lake Washington Boulevard in Kirkland, I nudged him with my shoulder and guided him toward the water. We stood at the end of my favorite dock, the same dock I’d sat at many times, my feet dangling off the edge, whenever I’d wanted to just disappear.
Wrapping me in his strong arms, Warner whispered in my ear, “I didn’t know a girl like you existed. Now that I’ve found you I never want to let you go.” He hugged me a little tighter.
I wondered as I stared out at the lake if he was saying this because it had been a few weeks and I still hadn’t let him kiss me. He sat down on the bench and pulled me onto his lap. Sitting in silence with nothing but waves gently bouncing off the dock under us, I looked up at him to point out the purple in the sunset, and he kissed me. Our bodies intertwined for hours on the bench; as the sky filled with stars, it felt as if our bodies were one.
Walking out to my car the next morning, I noticed a note tucked under my windshield wiper – “I love you more than the moon and the stars.”
When the girls at the flower shop met Warner, they gushed, “He’s gorgeous and tall, and his eyes and hair…you’re so lucky, he just kind of stares at you like a love-sick puppy; I’d like someone to look at me like that.” They were all laughing.
One night when Warner picked me up from work he said, “Why don’t you move in with me – I hate being without you – why do we ever need to be apart?”
In what felt like the blink of an eye, I moved in with Warner. Making dinner while Warner sat on the stool and watched me cook, felt like a dream. Setting our table with extra flowers from work and lighting candles before we sat and ate and kissed our way through dinner seemed like a perfect life to me. Being surrounded by Warner’s adoration and affection felt safe and reassuring. When I came home from Mrs. Miller’s with simple pillows I’d made for his couch, Warner acted like I’d just sewn him a new suit. Playing house with Warner, I felt like I finally had the calm, love-filled home I’d always wanted. I started to feel worthy of my dream of going to college.
After dinner, the phone rang. It was Noah, and Warner asked me not to answer it.
“Why do you always have to talk to your brother? Can’t you talk to me about whatever you two talk about?”
“Warner, we had a kind of crazy life, so we’re super close. Think of it like we are one person that got split in half, but we’re really one. That’s kind of what it feels like. I’m the peanut butter, and he’s the jelly.”
“Well, I don’t get it; I can’t really stand my little sisters.”
“I know it’s different with us, but that’s the way it is and always will be.”
A few weeks later, finishing up the dishes from dinner, the phone rang again.
“Let it go,” said Warner. “You can call back.”
When I got up to answer it, he yelled, “Let it go!”
I jumped a little, feeling like a five-year-old, hiding in my closet.
“I’m here,” he said as he hugged me. “Why do you need Mandi and Carmen and your brother? Why aren’t I enough? Let me love you; why won’t you let me love you? You’re all I need; why aren’t I enough?”
Lying by Warner’s side that night I saw a snapshot of my life and knew I had to move out. The next day I told Warner I’d drive myself to work. He showed up with flowers as I was leaving.
“I’m sorry, let’s go home,” he said.
“I think I’m going to move out, Warner. We did this so fast, and…”
“You can’t. Don’t.”
The look in Warner’s eyes when he grabbed my car door made me feel sick inside.
“I’m going to go home – to Mrs. Miller’s – tonight.”
That night he threw rocks at my window and then banged on Mrs. Miller’s door. Thankfully, she wasn’t home. Later, talking with Noah, he could hear something in my tone and asked me what was going on. I told him that Warner was being a little possessive and got a little scary when I told him I wanted to move out.
“He didn’t really do anything, he just freaked me out; it’s not a big deal.”
“Just because I live in SFO now, doesn’t mean I can’t handle things from here.”
The next day two of Noah’s best friends, Gary and Mike, called me and said they were coming over. When they pulled up with a big truck, I asked what was going on.
“Noah told us you needed a little help; we’re here to move you out.”
Sitting between Mike and Gary in the bouncing truck, I thought, there really is a little mobster in all the men in my family.
Chapter 25
The Beast
I ran across the parking lot and into the green metal doors of Bellevue Community College, my manila envelope full of papers tucked under my arm. I handed my application, my Maui Community College transcripts, and my mom’s check to pay for school to the librarian-looking lady with glasses resting on the edge of her nose. I waited as she filed through them, grabbed her stamp, and brought it down.
“Looks like you are a last-minute girl. That attitude really doesn’t work well in college.” Then she pushed her glasses up and said, “I have everything I need. School starts next week; good luck.”
I headed to Carmen’s apartment. I hadn’t seen Carmen since I had moved back to Maui, alone this time. I had wanted to take a breather from boys, try to see who I was other than someone’s other half, and earn a year’s worth of credit at Maui Community College. I’d waited tables to support myself while going to school. Knowing I could take care of myself if all else failed, was a blessing and something that’s never left my mind.
Seeing the blue Corolla in her spot made my heart race as I ran up the slated apartment stairs to her door. Knocking, it was as quiet as a tomb on the other side. As I started to walk away, I heard the door open.
“Lor!”
The blanket that was wrapped around her shoulders fell to the ground as she ran to me, and we hugged.
“When did you get back? You should have called me. I would’ve picked you up.”
“I just got back yesterday.”
Walking into the apartment, she grabbed a Chanel lipstick off the table and in two minutes transformed from sleeping angel to glamour girl, with a high bun, the perfect amount of dark hair covering her green eyes, and a swipe of the deepest, darkest, most beautiful red lipstick I’d ever seen.
“I’m working at Casa U Betcha, and I have a new boyfriend, and Lor, you’re going to love him, you have to meet him. He’s in LA right now for a few days. He’s a music producer. When he comes back, he’ll take us out.”
I couldn’t’t help but think back to our disastrous trip to Maui. When Carmen had left with all of our things, she’d gone back to the drug dealing, trigger happy, Tony. She’d stayed with him for two weeks before leaving the island without a peep.
“Don’t look at me like that – I swear you’ll love him. You have to come down tonight and see me – promise?”
At eleven, I walked down Mrs. Miller’s front steps and to my car. Heading across the lake for the first time, I felt every bone in my body melt a little. Taking a deep breath as I hit the top of the bridge deck with the University of Washington on my right and a ring of mountains around me, I was so glad to be home. Gett
ing to the Mercer Street exit after crossing lane after lane on I-5 South always seemed like a bit of a miracle. Swerving down and around, then up past the Space Needle, making sure to take a left on Second and then a right at the coffee shop and another right onto First Avenue, I heard the music as I approached Casa U Betcha.
Pushing my way through a sea of people, I saw Carmen, arm stretched up high and straight as an arrow balancing a little tray holding about twenty full drinks. Wearing a tiny black cami, a skirt that barely stretched across her willowy body, thick black tights and heeled ankle boots, she maneuvered through that bouncing, dancing crowd like she was in an empty room. She came to me and kissed my cheeks, the packed tray above our heads.
“Follow me,” she said.
Stuffing money into the little leather folio in the tiny black apron around her waist, she led me outside for a smoke break.
“Some guy just gave me a twenty for a three dollar drink; you have to work here with me. Can you believe it? It’s like this every night. Sometimes I make four hundred dollars a night. I can get you a job in two seconds. My boss is – well, he’d eat you alive,” Carmen said, as she played with her bangs and took deep drags from her Marlboro Light.
“I need a job STAT, but way too many people, way too close, and how do you hold that tray above your head without spilling a drop? I could never do it,” I said.
“I have to get back. Stay here until I’m done and we’ll go to the Frontier Room across the street; some new band’s playing over there,” Carmen said as she ran back into the building that now had a long line of people pouring out from it.
Three days later, I was working at Cucina Cucina on Lake Union. Up and down the stairs to and from the tables by the window, I marveled that I’d managed to score a job at a restaurant that was completely surrounded by windows that looked out onto the bobbing boats on Lake Union. Dotted with buildings around its perimeter, I could see Queen Anne to my left, then Fremont and Gasworks Park just across the lake from us.
By about eleven we’d finally gotten to the end of our two-hour wait list, and I sat our last table. As they twirled their pasta and sipped their wine, the bar went from dining guests on their way to the ballet up the street, to every ball player in town and their posses jamming every square inch of the step-up bar.
Grabbing my bag and running down the long line of cars that hugged Westlake, always shocked when after a ten-hour double I didn’t get a ticket while parked in a two-hour zone, I jumped in my car and headed down to Casa.
Relieved to see one spot left in the lot, I pulled in and was immediately greeted by a homeless guy who, in the dark, made me jump when he said, “Don’t put your money in the box; give it to me and I’ll watch your car.”
Trying to be as polite as possible, I ran up with my folded dollars, hoped I jammed them into the right slot, and ran up to Vinnie the bouncer, who always waved me up to him.
“My girl never waits in line. Come on, Carmen’s inside.”
With my arms folded, I tried to navigate through the mob of people without anyone touching me, which was about as easy as taking a bath without getting wet. Carmen was working upstairs; when she spotted me in the crowd, she ran down the packed stairs.
“Jon’s here!” She grabbed my hand and weaved me through the crowd to a guy at the bar. She put her hands around his eyes and he reached around and pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her.
“Jon, this is Lor; this is my sister, my best friend, my other love,” she said.
Jon stood up; he was long and lean with shoulder length, messy-ish brown hair and kind blue eyes that squinted when he smiled.
“I’ve heard so much about you. You’re Lauren,” he said, and something about his voice and aura and the way he looked at me like a brother made me instantly love him.
“Lor and I are going to run outside.” Carmen grabbed my hand, and we tore through the crowd of people like a hot knife through butter. “What do you think? Do you love him? You have to, because I love him and no one’s ever been sweeter to me, Lor.” Then she grabbed my hand and squeezed it and said, “No guy.”
“He seems great – he’s tall – and wow, do you have a thing for the older boys. But I do, I love him.” I said.
“I’ll be phased soon, and we’re all going to watch some band at the Off Ramp. Wait with Jon; you have to come with us.” Carmen threw her arms around me, and we ran back inside.
*
After my last class at BCC, I looked down at my watch; I had exactly one hour to get my reading done before going home and showering for work.
Walking up the stairs and through the metal doors, the secretary greeted me, “Hi Lauren, right on time. Your books are in a stack in your usual room.”
“Thank you,” I said, running by her desk.
“No, thank you, honey,” she smiled.
Walking back to the third door on the left, I threw my backpack on the floor, looked to make sure the door was shut tightly, and turned my chair around so no one walking by could see through the long rectangular window above the metal doorknob. Putting on the headphones, I grabbed the first book, hit the Record button, and started to read.
“As the soldier read the telegram out to his dirt-covered friends, tears welled in his eyes and he said, ‘We’re going home, boys. The war’s over.’” Reading with as much intonation and emotion as I had in me, nothing I could do would keep my hands from flying in the room while I read. Imagining a world without vision, I tried to capture the essence of each word with only my voice.
Walking out, Sue, the secretary in charge of the “Books on Tape” department said, “See you next week.”
“I’m late for work! Bye!” I said, running out the door.
*
When Anna and Vance moved out of the apartment downstairs at Mrs. Miller’s, Carmen moved in. She was sick of dealing with her mom at her apartment and hated being alone at Jon’s apartment when he was in L.A. Walking downstairs from my room to hers in my boxers and cami felt like a dream. Cracking open her bedroom door, I could smell what state she was in by the scent that crept out. If I’d lit a match by Carmen’s room, it would have exploded.
Tiptoeing out, I heard Carmen say in a low, gravely voice, “I’m up – don’t leave – come here.”
Lying in bed, she told me all about her upcoming trip to Cabo with Jon. Carmen was getting used to zipping back and forth between Seattle and LA on the Label’s jet for a quick meeting or dinner with Jon and his industry buddies.
“Hey, what did you guys end up doing for Easter, anyway? I know you couldn’t decide.”
“Oh, we went to Ozzy’s,” as she rolled over and pulled the pillow over her sleeping mask-covered eyes.
Pulling the pillow back, I said, “Please don’t just say, ‘Ozzy.’ Do you mean Ozzy as in ‘I eat bats’ heads for breakfast’ Ozzy?”
Carmen was laughing and pulled the mask off her eyes.
“Yea, but no. He’s actually super sweet and has this adorable, totally normal family. We just had a normal Easter dinner with Ozzy, his family, and a bunch of people from Jon’s office.”
Hearing a tap on the back sliding glass door, Carmen popped out of bed and ran to the door in just her undies and cami. Running behind her, I saw the UPS guy, standing with his brown uniform and a huge smile across his face.
“Hi Tom – sorry, I just got up; I’m a mess.”
“Looks like another one from Jon; he’s a lucky guy.”
She signed her name and gave him a look like she was signing her number too, grabbed the box, and closed the door. With her sleeping mask hanging from her heap of curls, she ripped open the big box. A bunch of packing peanuts flew out, along with another big blue box. Digging through the peanuts, she grabbed bottle after bottle of lotions and cleansers, cuticle softener, and sea extract conditioner.
She handed a little box to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
“It’s for you. See – your name’s on it, right here.”<
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I took the box and ripped it open; in it was a body lotion, a bunch of samples of skin care, and a bottle of perfume with a little note that said, “I know your smell, crazy – try this.”
I pulled off the metal top of the round bottle with bright blue liquid, knowing I would hate it, gave a squirt, and took in a shallow breath. It was perfect! I sprayed it on my forearms and rubbed them together and then stood up and sprayed some into the air and walked through the mist. Boxes from Jon came weekly when he was out of town, and he’d always include a little something for me.
When I’d sit with him at the bar while we waited for Carmen, he’d say,
“Look at her.” We’d both look up and laugh as she’d take a sip from someone’s drink, telling him it didn’t taste too strong to her, smiling.
“She’s a good girl,” I said. “But once she gets to a certain place, something snaps, and it’s hard to bring her back. Did she tell you about Maui? I did everything I could, and it’s like the whole time she was there she wasn’t with me; she couldn’t hear me or see me. She gets to that place and can’t shake out. But she and I, we get each other like no one else in the world. When you’re with Carmen, well, you know – if you get her, you love her – and I’m just glad you get her, too.”
I knew Jon got Carmen’s never-ending battle between being the compassionate-hearted person I knew so well, and the crazed Lucy kind of character in an “I Love Lucy” episode. When Lucy could have just come clean about one tiny lie or screw up, she’d spend the entire episode making it bigger. That was Carmen – instead of telling her Dad she was going to be ten minutes late, she’d say her car broke down. Then, while she was waiting the appropriate time to have it “fixed”, she’d have one, then two, then ten drinks at a bar, and before you know it she was three days gone.
