by Liz Miles
“I already love you, so just tell me.”
I half smiled at him, thrilled to hear the words “I love you” pass his lips again. “My aunt has a house out here,” I said.
He stared at me.
“And?”
“And she’s had to go away for a couple of days,” I said excitedly. “Oh, my gosh, Chris, I know where she hides the key to her house. Her empty house.”
He was gawking at me.
“This whole time … you knew this the whole time?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t remember until just now. I feel like such a moron, I’ve been feeding her cat now and then for years. I just haven’t done it lately because my mom took over, remember? If it had been any other time, I would have thought of it.” I was bouncing in my seat, so happy. Finally, after two torturous months of waiting—of being good—and after all of my completely unsexy mishaps, being caught by Chris’s dad, pulled over by a cop, and utterly humiliated. Finally, we could have some privacy!
Chris just sighed and threw his hands over his face. “You know what? I think you were right about something.”
I gave him a questioning look.
“You are a little defective.”
• • •
It was close to one in the morning when we pulled into my aunt’s abandoned driveway. Her house was ancient and wooden, always smelling of cedar mingled with must. It was quaint, with a brick fireplace jutting into the sky and a cobblestoned walkway littered with statuettes of cats frozen in mid-pounce or batting at some imaginary bug. A vast field lay behind the house and the shadows of two great blackberry trees stood still and quiet in the front yard. I took the key from under a large stone by the porch.
My heart was doing somersaults as I unlocked the door.
Everything felt strangely surreal, as if this was only a dream. I half expected to open the door and find my aunt home early, ruining everything.
But the house was as dark and empty as I had hoped. We stood in the foyer, shuffling our feet and refusing to look each other in the eye.
“Where do you want to go?” Chris asked.
I didn’t want to use anyone’s bedroom. But the couch was definitely not romantic and with a house full of beds it seemed silly. And then I remembered that the attic had recently been remodeled into a guest room.
Perfect.
I towed Chris upstairs into the attic. My eyes went straight to the bed beneath the window. The half-moon shone through the pane, casting it in a white, almost ethereal light.
Chris took my hand and led me toward it. When he kissed me, it was as though my life had been leading up to this moment, and it kind of had. I’d dreamt of this since I knew what love was and now, thanks to my aunt’s empty house, it was as perfect as I could have imagined.
Chris lay next to me on the quilted bedcovers, our breath coming quickly and our hearts beating too fast. It felt like every other time we’d tried to make love in the past, only this time, we weren’t interrupted.
Somebody’s Daughter
BY SHELLEY STOEHR
Kayla
I told my mother—I was crying and everything—I told her that everyone has their belly button pierced, and if she didn’t let me then it was her fault if Brian Kepler didn’t like me, and it was absolutely necessary that I get my belly button pierced before his party tonight, and you know what she did? She laid there on the couch with her eyes closed, doing her deep breathing thing that nobody else’s mother does, I mean, really, and then she said, “Party?”
Oh, shoot, I kinda forgot to tell her about that. I was kinda stuck then, because my mother never let me go to a party where she didn’t know the parents. I knew I had to make up a story in a hurry so she’d let me go!. I didn’t want to lie because she always said that lying would be the worst thing I could ever do, but on the other hand, I couldn’t tell her details about the party because Brian’s parents were going out of town. That’s why it was such a big deal—there were going to be no adults, and a keg and the pool and everyone who mattered was going to be there, and Rain said she was going to lose her virginity Saturday night—oh, I shouldn’t say that!—and if Brian were to ask me, I would too, only—I thought—he won’t ask if my mother won’t let me get my belly button pierced …
“Just a little birthday party. You know Brian. You know how much I love him. Please, Mom!” I said, adjusting her pillow.
She winced when I moved her, but then she sighed, so I knew her neck was hurting more than usual. Her pain was bad, I knew it, because otherwise she’d totally be sitting up, leaning forward on her hands, looking into my eyes …
And then, I never could’ve gotten away with even a small lie, but all of a sudden it was so easy, because she was lost in her world of hurt. So I said, “It’s his birthday! He invited me specially! It’s almost like a date!”
“Are you asking if you can go?” She was happier than she was letting on. I knew she really wanted to believe someone like Brian would ask me out. She was crazy that way, thinking I was totally special and everyone liked me, and that all the boys must love me.
I started rubbing my mother’s foot. She sighed with relief, and I said, “So I can go, right?”
“I don’t know, Kayla, it’s not a good time.”
“It’s never a good time with you!”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry …”
Okay, so sue me—she was weak and I needed to go to the party Saturday night, and not only that, but also get my belly button pierced. I knew if I kept at it, kept pushing her, she’d give in, if for no other reason than guilt over being sick and being afraid that it made her a bad mother. I knew how she thought, and I also knew my father would only say “ask your mother,” so it was all or nothing if I really wanted Brian to love me back—and I did, believe me I did, I wanted that more than anything. It was only the most important thing in the world.
So, I didn’t want to take advantage of my mother and her weaknesses, what with her pain and her guilt and her wanting me to have everything—but my love for Brian was so real, so powerful. I knew I could get him to like me if I just had this one chance and did it right, and so I said to my mother, before she could recover herself and get her head straight about what was “best” for me, “So can I get my belly button pierced before the party Saturday? I have the form; you just have to sign and Rain’s mother will take us.”
When my mother opened her eyes, they were full of tears, and of course I felt like shit, but I didn’t give up. I just gave her my saddest daughter in the world look.
She signed the form.
I won. And I felt like throwing up.
Rain
My mother didn’t come home that morning. She’d promised she’d be home for the weekend, but she didn’t show up Friday night. Saturday morning she called. “I’m performing at Dancespace tonight!” she said. “Remember that piece—”
I didn’t remember. I didn’t want to. Tears slid over my cheeks.
“You can come to the city and see me tonight and stay at my friend Wendy’s apartment. You can sleep on the couch, I’ll take the floor.”
I was quiet. What was I supposed to say to her? There wasn’t anything I could say. Nothing would bring her home like I wanted.
“Are you happy for me?” She was begging for it to be all right that she was doing what she wanted to do.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m proud of you. You’re really making it on your own now.”
She sighed, with relief, it sounded like. “I am. It’s wonderful to feel the real me peeking out again, you know? Not a wife or a servant or a—well, I’ll always be your mother, of course. Can you make a ten o’clock train?”
“No thanks, Mom. I have plans already.”
“Oh! … Oh.”
“Remember, Brian’s party, the one Kayla’s been flipping out over for weeks? I told you about it. You said you were going to take Kayla and me to get our belly buttons pierced before the party! And you said you were going to be here!”
�
��Well, Rain, I’m sorry, but this performance is important to me. I have to dance. I just have to. It’s my spirit, it’s my soul, it’s—”
“I know. I gotta go.” I waited to say, “Love you, Mom,” until after I’d hung up.
Then I slumped against the wall, slid down to the floor, wrapped my arms around my knees, and softly cried. My father came in, sat next to me, put his arm around me, and held me while I cried harder. “She never wanted to be my mother!” I said. “I ruined her life.”
My dad patted my back. “You could never ruin anyone’s life.” He got up. The last remaining flap of hair on top of his head was standing on end.
I smiled. Getting up, I asked him if he wanted some juice.
“The usual,” he said.
I made him a strong screwdriver that was mostly vodka, two ice cubes, and a splash of OJ. “Can you take Kayla and me to get our belly buttons pierced today? Mom was gonna do it,” I said as if it was no big deal. I didn’t want to scare him off.
“I don’t know, noodle. I’m not feeling so well today.” He took a long swallow, then stared down at his hand, which was still shaking. After finishing the drink, he was steadier. “I’m not so sure I approve of you mutilating your body anyway,” he said.
“But Dad …” I poured on the guilt while I poured him another drink and just orange juice for myself.
He sighed, beaten. “Yeah, okay, I guess. If I’m feeling better. I think I’m coming down with something.”
He said that every day, and I paid no attention. “Oh, Daddy, you’re the best!” I said, and meant it. If it weren’t for him, what would I do? Sleep on some stranger’s ratty couch in New York City? Not me. I hated my mother, and I hated dancing, too, hated it! Daddy would never take off to “find himself” when I needed him. He would never do that to me.
“I’m gonna shower. You, eat something! You’re too thin!” he said, peeling my arms off where I’d thrown them around him and topping off his drink before heading upstairs. “And make some coffee!” he yelled down.
“I’m gonna call Kayla and tell her she can come over.”
He didn’t answer. I knew what he was doing, he was crying. Crying over my mother. Crying over the reality that we were left out of her new life, and because he had a pounding headache, and he had to deal with me and my friends—he had to make me happy now, and I knew he could hardly stand the responsibility.
Setting my face to “impassive,” I stopped thinking, and busied myself with making a pot of coffee. I decided to start drinking it black. Thick and black to grow me up, and I wasn’t going to tell anyone, even Kayla, that I was nervous. Not because of the pain, exactly. I didn’t mind pain. I was worried I might accidentally cry, and I didn’t want anyone to ever see that.
Casey
I remember being in a hurry to get to the party. My mother was taking forever, and I said something like, “Mom, you look fine. Mom, you’re beautiful! Leave your hair alone! You’re fine! It’s not like you’re going in.”
“Is that a threat, Casey?” she said. “Because you should just be glad you have a mother who will jump up on a moment’s notice.”
“Can we go now?”
“Where’s the fire, Casey, huh?”
“Mommy, please.”
“What’s really going on?”
“There’s nothing going on, Mom, let’s just go. Please!”
To tell you the truth, I didn’t know if something was going on or not, I just knew that Rain called me and said she wasn’t going to the party if Kayla wasn’t going, and Kayla was crying when I called. She wasn’t going to the party without her belly button being pierced. “It’s not fair!” is what she said. “I never get what I want!” I asked did she mean I shouldn’t go to the party either because I didn’t get my belly button pierced and she just said, “You wouldn’t understand, Casey. You’re only fifteen.” I was like, “Thanks Kayla, why do you have to say that to me? You said age was just a number.” She goes, “I was talking about Brian and me, sweetie,” and I thought I’m not your sweetie and you’re only sixteen anyway, but then I said, “Okay, but Brian won’t care if you have a ring through your belly button, you’re beautiful and smart and we should go to the party,” and she said, “I guess.” So I called Rain back then because she usually drives us everywhere, but she said no way was she driving tonight because she was going to have fun for once. I was like, “I can’t do any drugs, my mother made me promise,” which was maybe half true. Rain was all yellin’ and shit then, saying, “Who said anything about drugs? Don’t be such a baby, Casey. Tell Kayla to get her Mom to drive us.” So I was like, “Whatever,” but only to myself and after I hung up, while I was calling Kayla back, who only started crying and saying maybe she shouldn’t go to the party at all but then she said she was getting a text, and it was Rain, and whatever it said calmed Kayla down, so she said to me, “Casey, could your mother drive us?” I sighed. I really, really didn’t want my mother to drive us because she was going to act the way she was now.
“Okay, I’m ready. Is there anything between my teeth?”
“Mom, you’re just driving, you’re not going in, please, please, pretty please?”
She sighed. She rubbed toothpaste on her teeth, and I did the same. We saw each other in the mirror, stopped growling at each other, and grinned.
“I love you, Mommy,” I said.
“I love you too, Casey. Let’s go. Does my hair really look okay? Do you think I should grow it out?”
“You’re beautiful. You’re the best, Mom.” I pretended to ruffle her spiked hair, which of course you couldn’t really do because it would probably bite your hand; that’s just what I thought because it was so stiff with mousse, and also because it belonged to my mom and she got really mad if you touched her hair. Plus she would bite you herself if you rubbed her the wrong way. Me too, I thought, and let my chunky black bangs fall over my eyes. When I was twenty-one I was going to have my incisors sharpened into fangs. My mother didn’t believe me when I told her that, but she’d see.
“Do you need help?” she asked me when we were in her car, an old Mustang convertible that coughed and eventually started.
“Mom, I think I can buckle my own seatbelt.”
She leaned over me anyway. I rolled my eyes and pushed her away.
“Remember what I told you,” she said.
“I know, Mom, I’ll never ever, no matter who offers what drug to me or how old I am, I’ll never do it. I promised you that already!”
“Just checking. Maybe I should check in with Michelle, see how she’s doing.”
“Please, Mom! Kayla will have a cow if you go in her house and get all chummy with her mother before this party and we’re late because of it. Please, just drive please.”
I was thinking, as we drove in the warm night air, how good it felt to be driving with my mother, and going out with my best friends, and going to my first kegger. I was also, I admit it, thinking, if someone offered me an Oxy, I’d probably take it.
Rain
Before Casey’s mom, Nancy, picked me up, I remember emptying my dad’s ashtray and putting it on the kitchen counter. Taking one of his cigarettes out and lighting it.
Coughed some. Felt a little woozy—then a lot, like I was going to throw up and/or pass out. I sat down quickly on the floor, putting my head between my knees until the feeling passed. I stood up and inhaled from the cigarette again. It had an awful taste, like soot, but the second hit was smoother than the first, and I figured I could get used to it.
Next, retrieved the vodka from the coffee table, poured a shot into a glass, added a splash of OJ like my dad had taught me, and gulped.
Whew. Fuck. ’Nother head rush. Sat down on the floor again, cooling my bikinied butt on the tile. In a minute I was already on my feet again, because I always get up again, and I always will no matter what. Fuckin’ remember that, World!
As I started my second drink, I was feeling way better. Less tense. Smooooth. I swiveled my hips and ran my
hand over my belly, savoring the warmth, appreciating my body, which was slimmer than it’d ever been, and strong. I didn’t even want to put something on over my bikini, I wanted to go to the party just like this, slinky and warm and smelling of smoke. But you—I mean, Casey’s mother—would freak, I was sure of that, and then she wouldn’t take us to Brian’s house. Who does she think she is? I thought. Mothers.
I looked down at the red spot around my belly button piercing. The vodka sure cut down on the throbbing. I wished it didn’t look so new.
Upstairs in my room, I fumbled through my makeup and found a cover-up stick, which I smeared around the new piercing. It worked pretty well at covering the red. I looked at myself in the mirror. Swiveled my hips again—thought, Look, Mom, I’m dancing. Just like you! Thinking about my mother killed my buzz, because she said she’d come home for my piercing and my first big party, and she didn’t. I was a little sad, maybe even a lot.
“Oh, fuck that,” I said out loud. I tripped rushing, angry as hell, to my mother’s closet, got up with my knees still burning from the rug, yanked a spaghetti strapped, low-cut, tie-dyed long dress from Target off its hanger and pulled it on. My chest hung out all over the place—good! And it was too long for me, I mean, to be a short dress on me. So I found some scissors. I was all, Fuck! as I wrapped my fist around the blades and held on for a moment, stopping myself from crying. Crying is a waste of time, like being scared. All that shit.
Gotta grow up, Rain! Not a little mommy’s girl anymore. I sniffled, then pronto pulled it together and cut down the dress to a mini. A mini-mini. The vodka I’d drunk made me cut a jagged edge, but it was okay.
No one was going to be looking at my hem anyway.
The phone rang. “Mom?” I said, a sudden rush of hope flooding my heart—hoping she was waiting at the train station for a ride home.
Stupid, Rain.
I hung up on whoever it was because it wasn’t her. Felt my heartbeat slamming in my chest and tears starting again because it seemed like I wasn’t just on my own tonight. No one lived here anymore. Not even my Dad, not really.
