“April Berman?” a nurse called.
My stomach leapt.
“I thought I was first,” Vi said. “Well, have fun.”
I raised an eyebrow and followed the nurse down the hall.
GIDDYUP
It was called a HOPE visit. Hormones with optional pelvic exam. I opted out of the pelvic part. Vi opted in. “Might as well find out what’s going on in there,” she said. “Plus more details for the article.”
First I waited in the little room the nurse put me in. Then a woman with long, flowing blonde hair and a big smile opened the door.
“Hello there!” she cheered, her eyes crinkling. “I’m Dr. Rosini. How are you doing today?”
For some inexplicable reason I loved her immediately and wondered if I could adopt her to be my mother.
She weighed me and took my blood pressure. Then she sat down across from me and started asking questions about my medical history (no problems, regular periods), about my sex life (none yet, but HOPE for future), who my intended partner was (long-term boyfriend; yes, he was my age), did I have someone at home to discuss my sexual relationship with? (Er, yes, Vi was at home.) She asked lots and lots of questions and I gave her lots and lots of answers.
Then we got down to business.
“There are a number of birth control options,” she said. “There’s the NuvaRing, there’s the Depo-Provera shot, there’s condom use, there’s the pill.”
“I’ll take that one,” I said.
She laughed. “We can give you a prescription. But remember that while the pill does protect against unintended pregnancy, it does not protect against HIV or STDs.”
“Got it,” I said. Since I would be Noah’s first and he would be mine, we didn’t have to worry about that part.
She gave me three months’ worth of pills, talked about reactions and side effects, and told me to come back for a prescription when they ran out.
“Take a pink pill every day for twenty-one days, then a white one for seven. Take them at the same time every day.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
OUT AND ABOUT
Instead of going straight home, since we were playing hooky anyway, we decided to go to the Norwalk mall. “It’s time to put another dent in your allowance,” Vi said, pulling out of the Planned Parenthood parking lot.
“But what if we need the money?”
“For what?”
“A rainy day?”
She pointed to the gray sky. “Looks like it’s about to snow.”
“Not sure if that counts.”
“You’re too good,” she said. “You need to live a little.”
“Hello! I am skipping school! I went to get birth control! Now I’m shopping when I should be in calculus! I am living a lot!”
“True. But you’d live better in new lingerie.”
VICTORIA’S SECRET
After two hours in the mall, I had two new pairs of jeans, a new pair of boots, and three new sweaters. Now I was at Victoria’s Secret wearing a black, lacy baby doll in one of the changing rooms in the back of the store.
“How do you look?” Vi called from the changing room next to mine.
Oh. My. God. My boobs were popping over the top, and the lace below showed everything. “Like a porn star,” I yelled back, giggling.
“Let me see!”
“Half my butt is hanging out!”
She jumped out of her room and then pulled open the curtain to mine. She was wearing a red silk teddy that tied in the front. “Hells yeah! You do look like a porn star!”
I posed like a pinup girl and slapped my own butt, which looked ridiculous as it was encased in the black baby doll and my own bright pink cotton panties. “I’ve never actually seen a porn movie.”
Vi gave me a wide-eyed look, as if to say, “You sweet, innocent girl, you.” Then actually said, “They’re demeaning. But somewhat instructional.”
“Look at you,” I said, indicating her red silkiness.
“It’s horrible. I feel like a Christmas gift. I want lingerie that screams power, not please untie me.”
I thought of my mother and snort-laughed. “My mother always pronounced it lin-jer-y. She is not good with accents.”
“Good thing she moved to France.”
“She also calls condoms, con-domes.”
“Ha.”
I closed the curtain, slipped off the baby doll, and put my jeans and shirt back on, and then stood in front of her room. “You know, I once made a trip to this very store . . . with my mother.”
“You did not!”
“I did. She told me to wait outside with my brother but . . . we got bored.”
Vi pulled open her curtain. “Tell me she was buying flannel pajamas.”
“Au contraire.” I lifted up a package of black thigh-high stockings that the store had conveniently put in a display by the rooms. “She took these on a trip to Cancun.”
“Ugh. Did she wear them?”
“Why yes, she did, actually,” I said, putting the stockings back.
“It’s sick that you know that. It’s also sick that I could tell you the symptoms of my mother’s UTI infections.”
I shook my shoulders as a sign of being creeped out. “Gross. I’m going to pay for this and check in with Noah.”
“Check in? Language like that is why I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“Call him. You know what I mean. He’s probably wondering where I am.”
“He must be thrilled you’re going on the pill.”
I hadn’t actually told him yet. I wanted to wait until it was all set. I was thinking I would tell him this weekend when we were casually hanging out in my basement. Finally. He still hadn’t been down there with me. Every day after school he had practice or a game or homework, or some family thing he had to do. We’d hung out with other people, I’d cheered at his home games, but we hadn’t had a moment alone.
“Oh, by the way,” I would say, when we were finally lying next to each other on my futon. “I started taking the pill. In one month it will be working.” I’d mention it kind of flippantly, acting all casual and then he’d smile. The joy would radiate across his face. He’d feel loved, I’d feel loved, he’d pull me to him, we’d kiss. In my head it was all very PG. He’d hug me close and tell me he couldn’t wait for the month to be up. Maybe we’d even add a fun countdown application to our phones. We’d be super-adorable about it.
But the way things were going . . . he might not make it to my basement for the next month. Maybe I should just tell him.
“Guess where I am?” I said when I reached him.
“I have no idea. Your locker?”
I paused for a sec. “Seriously? You didn’t realize I wasn’t in school?”
“You’re not in school?”
“No, we called in sick.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I suddenly wanted his full attention. “But I did go to the doctor.”
“So you are sick?”
“Actually, we went to Planned Parenthood.”
Silence. “Really?”
“Yup. And I got the pill.”
Another pause. “Oh,” he said finally. “Cool.”
I had expected something more than “cool.” A yippee, or a hooray maybe. He knew what that meant right? “The birth control pill,” I said in case it wasn’t obvious.
“Yeah, I got that.”
Oh. Well. Um. “You sound super-excited.”
I heard him cough.
The annoyance bubbled up. “Right. Sorry to bother you.”
“April, I’m excited. It’s just . . . we never talked about that. I thought we’d just use . . . you know. Other stuff.”
Other stuff? If we were old enough to use them I would think we were old enough to say the words. Unless he didn’t want anyone to hear him say it out loud. I wondered where he was. In the hallway? He didn’t want to use the word condom in the hallway? That I could understand.
“I
think we should use both,” I said. “Just in case. As backup. The doc said people usually wait a month for the pill to work.”
“So we’re going to wait another month?” he asked. Was it my imagination, or did he sound relieved?
“Yeah. Or, we don’t have to. We could just use condoms now.”
“What’s one more month?” he asked. “Better to be safe. One month then.”
“Yup. One month.”
“Sounds good.”
“Yup.”
This conversation was definitely less fun than it had been in my head. Maybe I should have waited. Waited until we were together to tell him the news. Not wait for sex.
Sex I was ready for. I already had the outfit.
Noah was the one who didn’t sound ready. Maybe he realized what a big step it was. Maybe all the talk about birth control had freaked him out about the actual possibility of getting me pregnant.
I’d have to distract him with my new outfit. I needed to get him in the mood. Maybe I should go back in and get the thigh highs.
My mom’s face flashed before my mind.
On second thought . . . I needed to be in the mood, too.
AND THEN THERE WERE THREE
I grabbed our packages then slammed the trunk closed while Vi shut the electronic garage door. Vi opened the door to the house. It was after six—once we were at the mall, we decided to see a movie.
“That’s weird,” she said. “Do you hear that? Did you leave the music on again?”
“No,” I said. Last week I’d left the music on. And the lights. Twice. Vi wasn’t thrilled. Turns out you have to pay for electricity—like, every month. Who knew?
“The lights are on too. I definitely turned those off. Maybe it’s Zelda.”
I stepped back. The murder scenes from Vampire Nights and every other horror show replayed in my head. Stupid people walked into their houses and got slaughtered. “Do you think we should call the police?” I asked, but she was already inside. The house wasn’t the most burglarproof. And it was next door to the public part of the sound. In low tide anyone could stroll in from the road, down the beach, and climb right onto our deck.
“A burglar doesn’t blast the music,” she said, her voice trailing off as she went farther down the hall. Then I heard, “Holy shit!”
“What? Vi?” I ran in after her and took the stairs two at a time. What if it really was a killer? What if it was crazy Lucy? And she was going to murder us?
Vi was sitting crossed-legged on the carpet holding a tiny orange-sherbet-colored kitten.
“Is this not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” she asked. “Who’s the cutest? You are, you are,” she cooed.
Aw! A kitten! “Hello there.” I crouched beside them. I missed Libby.
“Meow.”
“Aw. Did the adorable kitten turn on the music?” I asked, kicking off my boots.
“Dean did,” she said, motioning to a bag and shoes by the door. “That’s his. He’s such a slob.”
“Dean’s here?” I asked, looking around. “Where?”
“I’m guessing in the bathroom.”
We heard a flush and then Dean appeared. “Your mommies are home, kitty!”
“Ex-squeeze me?” Vi asked, raising an eyebrow.
“A mommy is someone who’s supposed to take care of you,” I explained. “I know it’s a strange concept, but it happens all over the world.” Except of course, when she’s in France.
Vi snorted.
“A friend of Hudson’s has a cat who had kittens,” Dean said. “She’s looking for homes. Hudson thought April might want her . . . after losing her cat. I told him I’d ask.”
That was sweet of him to think of me. “Why didn’t Hudson come by?” I asked, disappointed. Hudson made me feel . . . gutsy. Even if he was maybe a drug dealer. No one’s perfect.
“He had to work,” Dean said, looking down.
“Where does he work again?” Vi asked.
“You know. At a job,” Dean said with a laugh.
“What is the big secret?” I asked. “I don’t get it. Unless he really is doing something illegal.”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re so annoying,” Vi snapped.
“Ask him yourself. He’s coming to get me in two minutes. So nice of you two to finally come home. I’ve been waiting for hours. Where were you today?”
Vi ignored him and looked over to me. “Should we keep her?”
I twined my fingers around her tail. “Do you want to live with us, cutie?”
She reached over and petted my hand with her paw. Double aw.
“How did you get in?” I asked him.
“I used the key in the birdhouse.”
I scratched behind the kitten’s ears. She purred. “There’s a key in the birdhouse?” I asked. “Good to know.”
“So, what do you think?” Dean asked. “Vi’s house, party of three?”
The kitten opened her big green eyes and licked her right paw.
“I’m in if you are,” I said, already madly in love.
“All right,” Vi said. She pointed at the kitten. “You can hang out with us. But you’re going to have to behave. No skipping school.”
I made kissy faces.
“What should we name her?” Vi asked.
“‘We could call her Tiger,’” I sang. “‘But there’s no bite in her. Tiger! Kittens would frighten her. . . .’”
Vi rubbed her temples. “Please. No show tunes. And she is a kitten. Let’s call her Zelda.”
“Creepy,” I said.
“What about Donut?” Dean asked.
Vi snorted. “Where did that come from?”
“I like donuts.”
“You like the food or the name?” I asked.
“Both.”
“Me too,” I said.
Vi lifted her up and carried her to the kitchen. “Come with Mommy, Donut. Welcome to chateau Vi.”
“We promise not to take you lingerie shopping,” I said.
“Or discuss our urinary tract infections.”
“TMI,” Dean groaned.
“Not mine, dumbass. My mother’s. Anyway. Donut, we promise not to make you pay bills.”
“Or leave you alone,” I added. “Ever.”
Vi filled a bowl with water. “Although you will have to be alone when we’re at school.”
“Right,” I said, laughing. One day away and I’d forgotten it existed.
The doorbell rang. “Hudson!” I ran to the hallway and called, throwing open the door, “You are the best! Thank you!”
He stayed on the porch, smiling at me. “Does that mean you’re keeping her?”
“Of course. How could we not? She had me at meow. Come in. Donut wants to say hi.”
“Donut?”
“Your brother’s idea.”
“Don’t you know by now never to listen to my brother?”
“I heard that!” Dean yelled.
“We gotta go!” Hudson yelled back.
“You’re not staying?” I asked, disappointed.
He shrugged. “Can’t. Another time.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks again,” I said. I kind of wanted to give him a hug, but then I thought it might be weird. I didn’t want him to think I was throwing myself at him. I’m sure he had enough girls who actually were throwing themselves at him.
Screw it. He just brought me a kitten; I was giving him a hug. “Thank you,” I said into his collar. I felt his arms tighten around me. He smelled like new leather. I pulled away. “New jacket?” I asked.
He blinked. “Yeah.”
“Looks expensive,” I said, putting my hand on my hip. “Coming from work?”
He smiled again.
Dean appeared beside me. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Whatever,” Vi said. She was cradling Donut in her arms.
Hudson reached out and tickled under Donut’s chin. “Hey, Donut, you’ve got a new home now. Be a
good girl.” Then he tickled under Vi’s chin. “You too, Vi.”
Vi fake purred.
Dean headed out the door. “All right, ladies, we’d love to sit and purr with you all night, but . . . actually we wouldn’t.”
“See you at school,” Hudson said before following Dean to the car.
“Ach, that place,” I said. “I guess we’ll have to go tomorrow.”
Vi linked her free arm through mine as I waved good-bye to the boys. “I’m sure [email protected] would be happy to email again if you want to skip.”
“My dad,” I said, “what a giver.”
number four
bought a hot tub
MY REAL DAD’S SCARY EMAIL (FROM HIS NEW REAL ADDRESS) TO FAKE SUZANNE
From: Jake Berman
Date: Sun, 25 Jan, 7:03 a.m.
To: Suzanne Caldwell
Subject: Checking In
Suzanne,
Hope all is well. Spoke to April last night and she seems happy. She praised your cooking, too—thanks for taking such good care of my princess. I wasn’t thrilled with this plan, but it seems to be working out. Am in Chicago for the next week, but always reachable via email or cell.
Best, Jake
Sent From BlackBerry
NERVOUS NELLY
“Should I be concerned that my father is going to run into your mother on a street corner in Chicago?” I asked.
“Your father’s email was sent at 7:03 A.M. I am confident that when my mother is on street corners, your father is fast asleep.”
“So that’s a no.” I scratched Donut behind the ears.
“Meow.”
“Stop worrying.”
“Right. Grip. Getting one.”
Ten Things We Did (and Probably Shouldn't Have) Page 8
