Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story)

by Lisa Loomis

  “Hi,” I answered.

  “Mom, I’ll be going back with you guys,” I said, turning toward her.

  I narrowed my eyes at her in a please don’t ask, I didn’t want to have to explain my reason in front of Mathew.

  “Okay, meet us back here when the game is over.”

  “I will,” I said, turning and leaving.

  Mathew followed me down the bleachers, I could hear his cleats on the cement behind me.

  “Not going to the party?” he asked as he caught up to me.

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m tired. Not in the party mood,” I answered curtly.

  When I got back to Gayle and Keri, I veered away from him and clambered up the bleachers.

  “See you around,” he said before he headed back out to the field.

  I made my way back to my parents before the game ended, so I didn’t have to fight the crowd leaving. The next morning it became clear to me why I hadn’t felt good. It wasn’t my stomach; it was cramps. I had finally started my period. Fifteen was late compared to my girlfriends; Gayle had started at thirteen.

  “Now you will see why it is such a pain,” she said when I told her over the phone.

  I was actually relieved, happy to be catching up with the rest of the girls. My boobs had gotten bigger over the last year, and I had filled out some. My hips stayed slim, but I didn’t feel so gangly anymore. Naturally, Mathew was more perceptive.

  Our family had been invited to the O’Conner’s pool for a barbeque, and my mom insisted that I come. Mathew and I after swimming for a while ended up at the far end of the pool on lounge chairs. I had just finished putting suntan lotion on, so I was still sitting up.

  “Nice,” he said.

  I looked to see what he was referring to, and he was staring at my tits. My stomach tightened with an inside groan, stop it, Mathew. I didn’t respond. I thought about a bad visual for him, something that might ick him out.

  “I started my period,” I said.

  “Not so nice,” he said.

  “Fuck you,” I said.

  “Why? 'Cause I said 'not so nice'?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, not sure why the comment irritated me.

  “No big deal, Morgan, we learn to get around it,” he said.

  “Sorry I said anything.”

  I knew “getting around it” was meant sexually, but I wouldn’t know anything about that.

  I didn’t like Mathew very much the first part of the school year. He was too full of himself. I wanted to tell him, but I knew it wouldn’t matter.

  “You seem grumpy these days,” he’d said the last time I saw him.

  “Oh well,” I’d answered flippantly.

  I was grumpy. Our relationship hadn’t really changed, but I liked it even less now. All the pent up sexual feelings I had were just a dull ache.

  Chapter 22

  We went to Mammoth in March with the group. It took us a long time as it was snowing pretty hard the last hour of the car ride. We’d had to put on chains; my dad swearing the whole time. When we finally arrived, the other families were already there, and we were late, due for dinner at the O’Conner’s condo. I didn’t want to go. I was tired and, not only that, I didn’t want to deal with Mathew and his newfound attitude. For once, I was glad Bobby and Mathew would take off. I didn’t want to be around them.

  “Can I just hang here?” I asked my mom. “I’m tired.”

  “No, you can’t. Ann would be hurt if you didn’t come,” she said.

  “No she wouldn’t. She won’t even notice. I can see everyone tomorrow,” I pushed.

  “Morgan, you’re coming. Wear what you have on or get changed,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said, exasperated at having to get up off the couch, and drag my ass to the bedroom where Pat and I were going to sleep.

  I pulled off my sweats and put on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Then I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Hell, you look like hell I thought. My hair was wild, so I gathered it up into a ponytail. I put on makeup; I had started wearing eyeliner like many of the models and drew it out at the corner of my eyes. I softened the lines with a Qtip. I thought it looked sexy.

  “Morgan, let’s go,” my mom called.

  “I’m coming,” I said, shutting off the light.

  “Looking good, missy,” my dad said, giving me a hug.

  We walked over to the O’Conner’s condo. I could tell the adults had been cocktailing. There was a makeshift bar on the counter, vodka, whiskey, scotch, gin, lemons, limes, mixers, and glasses, along with an ice bucket. Every adult there had a glass in their hand, Bobby’s parents were crowded in the small kitchen with Ann and Brad, while some of the other parents were in the living area, and they were all chitchatting. The kids who were there were upstairs watching a cop shoot-em-up show on the TV, and Pat and I joined them. Mathew wasn’t there much to my relief.

  “Hey,” I said to no one in particular, parking it in an empty beanbag chair.

  I was still pissed my mom hadn’t let me stay at the condo. I knew Ann didn’t give a shit, not one adult downstairs gave a shit and I didn’t think anyone in this room did either. I was off in my own world watching them: some were watching the show, some talking softly. I sort of watched and listened, really uninterested in both. Shortly after we got there, Mathew and Bobby showed up. I could hear them downstairs saying hello to the adults. Ann encouraged them to head upstairs to join the other kids. The stairs creaked as they headed up. Mathew came into the room followed by Bobby.

  “Move,” someone said as they got in front of the TV. Mathew looked for a place to sit and, with not a lot of options; he came and sat next to me in the beanbag. When he did, we sort of slipped into each other as the beans shifted inside the bag with his weight.

  “Hey there,” he whispered.

  “Hey,” I said, continuing to focus on the TV as if I was interested.

  My lack of interest in his arrival seemed to prompt him to shift and work his body closer into mine. We had not been physically close in a while, and my heart beat faster and I felt hot, partly because his body was right next to mine. Holy shit, what was this?

  It was almost like his being near made me forget all the emotional pulling away I’d done. Like moving the record needle back to the start. Why? screamed in my head. Just like that my feelings were back, the damn yoyo was on the up side. I was so relieved to get up when we were called downstairs for dinner. After I finished, my mom finally let me go back to our condo alone. I tried to analyze my feelings and got frustrated. It was a place to sit, I kept reminding myself. No big deal.

  I skied with the girls the next day. Thankfully I would only have to deal with Mathew at night. I realized after a couple of days I was playing a rather obvious avoidance game. If the girls were in the hot tub and the boys came, I would leave. If Mathew was at a condo, and I could go someplace else, I would.

  Bobby was being really nice to me, probably well aware of my reason for exits. Several times he tried to get me to join the two of them and I wouldn’t. The fourth night of the trip, I was due to meet a couple of the girls to play Scrabble at one of the condos. Before I was supposed to go, though, I asked Pat if he would go in the hot tub with me because I was sore from skiing. When Pat and I got to the hot tub, it was empty.

  “Help me pull off the cover,” I said.

  Pat grabbed one side, me the other, and we pulled it back together. Steam rose from the hot tub into the cool night air.

  “This is going to feel good,” Pat said, climbing in.

  I followed.

  “It’s hot.”

  “Morgan, you’re so smart. Hot. Tub. Get it?”

  “Shut up. You’re constantly giving me shit about my words,” I said annoyed, lowering myself slowly into the steamy water.

  I sat on the bench gingerly trying to adjust to the hot. The water swirled as Pat made waves with his arms. Slowly my body relaxed and I leaned my head back looking up in
to the sky.

  “Look at all the stars. It’s so clear out.”

  “I know. There’s the Big Dipper,” he said, pointing.

  “Little Dipper,” I said, pointing it out. “I love seeing the stars out like this. It’s like it’s a blanket over the cold.”

  My conversation with Mathew from years ago popped into my head—the other living things in space. I smiled. I wondered if he thought about things like that anymore. Probably not. The band, the partying, the girls were all that seemed to be on his mind these days.

  “How was skiing today?” Pat asked.

  “Fun. We took turns playing follow-the-leader through the trees,” I laughed recalling my escapade.

  “What?”

  Pat could tell there was a story behind my laughter.

  “Oh, I got off track and fell into a tree well. I had to yell to have the other girls come back and help me out. My ski was stuck between two branches, and I couldn’t move forward or backward or get it off. It was pretty funny.”

  “Guess you had to be there.”

  “Come on Pat, have some vision for fuck sake.”

  “Hey guys,” he said loudly, obviously addressing someone we knew.

  I sat upright to look and Mathew and Bobby were coming down the path.

  “Shit,” I said under my breath.

  “What? It’s just Mathew and Bobby,” he said, looking at me strangely.

  “I know who it is.”

  I thought about making an exit, although my excuses to vacate when they arrived were getting pretty stupid. I knew my best defense, when the yoyo was on the upside, was simply to stay away, but it wasn’t always easy. They took off their shoes, hung their towels on the hooks, and got in.

  “Hey, Morgan, how’s it going?” Mathew asked.

  “Good,” I answered cheerfully.

  I certainly did not want Mathew to sense that he had any influence on me.

  “Where did you guys ski today?” Pat asked. “I never saw you.”

  The three of them talked about where on the mountain they’d skied and what runs they liked, skiing blues versus blacks, boy kind of conversation. I slipped lower resting my head on the edge of the tub as the hot water worked on my sore muscles. I closed my eyes and found myself enjoying listening to them. When I felt someone move closer, I opened my eyes, not moving my head. Mathew smiled down at me.

  “You’re being awfully quiet,” he said.

  “Am I normally loud?” I asked smartly.

  “No, not really,” he said regretfully.

  I felt bad. No reason to be a bitch.

  “Relaxing is all,” I added.

  While Bobby and Pat were caught up in talking about who in the group could ski what, Mathew took my hand in his under the water. He laced his fingers in mine slowly. I looked out of the corner of my eye at him and gave him a dirty look, but didn’t pull my hand away. Whatever, I thought Mathew, being Mathew. After more talk about who could ski what, more like bragging really, I decided to head out.

  “I’m off to shower before dinner,” I said, pulling my fingers from his hand.

  I stood up on the bench and reached one leg over the edge to the stairs.

  “See you over there, kid,” Mathew said, slapping me hard on the rear as I exited the hot tub.

  I screamed and Bobby and Pat laughed.

  “Hey, watch it,” I said, shooting him another dirty look over my shoulder.

  His head was cocked to the left, and he was smiling. Damn it, his blue eyes had that mischievous twinkle they could get. His expression made me soften and I laughed as if I too was laughing it off. As if it was nothing more than a friendly joke.

  “See you,” I said.

  After dinner, as usual the kids hung out, playing games and watching TV, while the adults visited.

  “You want to come with Bobby and me to 7-11?” Mathew whispered.

  “Why?” I asked, fearing an ulterior motive than just joining them.

  “Just to get out of here,” he shrugged.

  I looked into his eyes; he seemed sincere. My newfound determination to keep my distance was not around at the moment, so I went with them. We walked in the moonlight; its reflection illuminating the snow like a layer of mini diamonds. It was so cold, we could see our breath and watched it fade into the night. It made me feel even colder, and I pulled my jacket collar up tighter around me.

  “Cold?” Mathew asked, putting his arm around me, pulling me close.

  “Freezing,” I answered as I settled into him, feeling the warmth of him through his jacket.

  I loved these moments, when it seemed as though Mathew cared. It felt good to be with them, to be included, in whatever they were doing. I realized, once we got to the 7-11, when Mathew approached a middle-aged guy in a Corvette, that the intent was to get someone to buy beer.

  “Dude,” Mathew asked. “Can you buy me a twelve-pack?”

  Mathew held out money towards him. The guy hesitated as he looked at Bobby and I. He finally shook his head with a grin, no doubt remembering his own days of doing similar things, and took Mathew’s money.

  “Sure,” he said, taking the money.

  “I’ll be around the corner,” Mathew said.

  We waited around the side of the building for him in the cold. He came out and handed the beer and the change to Mathew.

  “Stay out of trouble,” he said.

  It seemed too easy. I couldn’t believe it. We knew everyone was still at the Gaines' place, partying. The adults would be loaded by now and no doubt staying late.

  “Let’s go to your place,” Mathew suggested.

  “That’s fine,” I said.

  We trudged back to the complex, through the snow, and ended up at our condo where we stripped out of jackets and shoes in the entry.

  “Burrr,” I said. “Let’s get warm in the living room.”

  Chapter 23

  “Okay to start a fire?” Mathew asked, already wadding up newspaper in the fireplace.

  Bobby went to get wood that was stacked on the front porch, and I put the beer on the deck in the snow. I pulled three out before I shut the slider.

  “If my parents come home, throw the beer over the railing,” I said.

  “It’s early,” he said.

  “I know, just in case. We don’t need to get busted.”

  I watched him stack the wood carefully and strike a match.

  “You learn how to make a fire like that in Boy Scouts?” I asked, teasing.

  “Yeah, right, I was never a Boy Scout.”

  “I know. Probably wouldn’t let you in,” I said as the paper lit and started to burn.

  I sat down on the floor close to where he rested on his heels making sure the fire would start. Bobby sat down in the chair closest to it. The little pieces of wood caught fire and started to burn.

  “Nice,” Bobby said.

  I handed them both a beer. The three of us sat mesmerized by the fire, it felt so nice after our walk outside. Mathew poked at it several times to make it burn better and eventually the fire cracked and popped as we sat around and drank the beer. Mathew sat in front of it Indian style, his knee touching mine.

  “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught, asking someone to buy beer?” I asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Do they ever say no?”

  “Sometimes. If they do, I ask the next guy,” Mathew answered.

  Mathew rolled toward the couch and reached out, drawing me with him. He shuffled and then settled, his back against the couch, me between his legs. I let him versus fighting it. My back was reclined against his chest, and I remembered when he did this at the beach. I wondered what he was thinking, just as I did then. He played with my hair with his free hand, rolling it around his finger, and then letting it go. Like he had a fascination with the curl. I felt self-conscious with Bobby watching us. We were on our third beer when Bobby got up.

  “I think I’ll head,” he said stretching.

  “Dude, there’s still
another beer,” Mathew said.

  “It’s okay. You drink it or hide it in the snow for tomorrow,” he said. “What time you want to start shredding tomorrow?”

  “What, like eight thirtyish, head up?” Mathew suggested.

  “All right with me.”

  Mathew didn’t move, and when I tried to get up to say goodbye, he held me down.

  “See you, Bobby.”

  “Later, Morgan,” Bobby said.

  Once Bobby was gone, Mathew got up.

  “Another beer, kid?” he asked.

  “Why not?” I said, even though I was feeling a slight buzz already.

  He opened the slider and then handed me a beer before he put another log on the fire and sat down on the couch.

  “Come on over here,” he said, beckoning with his finger.

  The fire was warm and I hated to move away from it, hated to be vulnerable to him and what he might, or might not do.

  “Come on,” he said patting the spot next to him.

  I got up slowly off the floor and turned on the TV, flipped around until I found a movie, and turned the volume low before I sat down next to him.

  “Who was supposed to benefit from that?” I asked.

  “What?” he asked, looking at the TV.

  He was clearly unsure what I was talking about.

  “Pulling me into you, playing with my hair? Was it for you, or to show Bobby you could get away with it? 'Cause I don’t think it was for me.”

  His motivation for these seemingly tender gestures unnerved me, made me second-guess all that I believed to be true. That we were only friends.

  “Shit, Morgan, don’t make it complicated. I don’t know. It was just because,” Mathew said.

  “I think it made Bobby uncomfortable, and that’s why he left.”

  “Don’t think so damn much. That wouldn’t make Bobby leave.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I just do. If he wanted to stay, he would have. He’s seen it before,” he said.

  “Yes, he has. Probably didn’t understand it then either.”

  I was frustrated and I folded my arms over my chest.

  “He ever ask you about us?”