“It’s open,” said Ian as I tapped lightly on his bedroom door.
“Hey,” I replied, poking my head inside. “Where can I find some blankets?”
“What for?”
“So I can crash on the couch...”
“Don’t be silly. You’re the guest here. You get dibs on the bed,” he said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it under his arm.
“Ian-”
“Don’t even start. After the night you had last night, not to mention sleeping on a hardwood floor the night before, I think you’ve earned a decent rest.”
“You trying to tell me something? Do I look deprived?” I chuckled.
“No, you look perfect,” he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek before departing. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you.”
I closed the door as his footsteps trotted downstairs. I tossed my jeans and shirt onto the trunk sitting at the end of his bed and fell into the mattress, nuzzling up into the downy masses of cotton. Soaking in the warm palettes from the vintage vaudeville posters of Harry Houdini and Harry Kellar, my eyelids sank shut even before I reached to turn off the light.
Subtle shuffling, along with soft show tune humming, awoke me from my sleep. I blinked a few times to adjust my vision to the brightly stricken room. All the window shades were drawn up, and I nearly panicked at the thought that I had overslept until I took a better look out the window to see it was barely twilight. I pulled the covers off my shoulders and detangled myself from the bed sheets before reaching up to finally turn off the lamp overhead.
“Time to greet the day,” called out a voice at the foot of the bed.
I jumped up in alarm, finding short-lived relief to see Mrs. Callaghan’s massive, curly locks just over the comforter as she knelt down to grab some of Ian’s loose laundry he had scattered about the floor.
“Oh!” she piped the moment she looked up to realize it was me. “I’m, I’m-sorry! Just- Sorry!”
She hastened out of the room with an armful of clothes, leaving me in utter befuddlement at her perplexing reaction. Then it hit me.
“Oh, no!” I shouted, scrambling out of the bed and practically leaping down the stairs.
“Care to explain something?” I heard Mrs. Callaghan say the moment I hit the landing.
Ian was standing in the kitchen, studying the contents inside the refrigerator before looking up at his mother who was charging passed him into the laundry room.
“Come again?”
She walked back into the kitchen after dumping the clothes into the washer with her emotions slightly more in check, pointing at me and simply replying, “That.”
Ian looked over at me just as baffled as I was a moment ago.
“It’s not what you think,” I said, though I can’t say I posed much of a case as I stood on the bottom steps in nothing but her son’s t-shirt.
“Okay, what’d I miss?” said Ian, hoping for clarification until it finally registered in his head as well. He started chuckling.
“Dare I ask what’s so amusing?” begged Mrs. Callaghan.
It was strange. I had never seen her angry about anything before, but given the circumstances, I still had to hand it to her for keeping her cool.
“Cassie got locked out of her place last night,” he finally said. “Nothing else. You can see for yourself.”
His mom followed him into the family room where a pillow and throw blanket were still draped across the main couch. At last, she covered her mouth with her hands and started chuckling too.
“I’m so sorry,” she said blithely, heading back into the kitchen and parking a seat at the table. “It’s just that... that’s about the last thing I was expecting.”
“I’m gonna go get changed,” I said awkwardly, climbing up the stairs again.
Not a moment later, I returned to the kitchen with a rather problematical issue. “Hi, sorry to ask, but did you happen to grab a pair of jeans sitting on the trunk when you came in earlier?”
Mrs. Callaghan looked up from her cup of coffee with a guilt-ridden smile. “Maybe, why? They weren’t yours, were they?”
“Seriously, mom?” laughed Ian. “You looked at a pair of woman’s skinny jeans and thought hey, those have to belong to my son? Wow, thanks. That says a lot.”
I buried my face into the wall beside me and burst out laughing.
“I wasn’t paying attention,” she said, hitting him in the arm with the morning paper. “Maybe if your room didn’t look like a tornado had touched down in there, I wouldn’t have to come in to clean up after you. You have a hamper. Use it.”
“I’ll get you sorted,” said Ian, motioning me back up the steps.
Belting a pair of Ian’s ink splashed jeans, I rolled up the ends of the pant legs to match my height and threw on my tank top from the night before. I swiped on some eyeliner, a few coats of mascara, and a pop of sheer lip gloss to finish off the look.
“You have time for breakfast?” asked Mrs. Callaghan when I reentered the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I said, taking a seat at the table.
She scooped up a plateful of scrambled eggs from a sizzling frying pan on the stove and slid the dish my way.
“Thank you.” In all truth, I was absolutely starving, so it came as no shock that I practically inhaled every morsel in under a minute.
“Talk about a girl with a hearty appetite,” she said, sitting down at the seat across the way. “Sorry about the clothes. I would have lent you a pair of my pants, but in all honesty, you’d be swimming in them. Also, I haven’t been clothes shopping since scrunchies were in.”
“It’s no problem,” I said, pushing the plate aside. “Look, I’m really sorry about earlier-”
“It’s okay. I get it. You guys just really caught me off guard is all. There are certain things as a mother that you know you have to prepare yourself for, but my son has thankfully made those things infrequent at best. I’m pretty sure the most trouble he’s ever gotten himself into was when he broke his curfew by a couple hours after going to a concert in Portland.”
“Well, consider yourself very fortunate. I don’t think I can recall another parent saying that.”
“Oh, I bet your dad could attest the same.”
“Hardly, I’ve still had a few run-ins with trouble, mostly in connection with my sister. As kids, Nikki always made me tag along on all her misadventures, where we equally shared punishment for her half-baked schemes. She on her own though is where most of my dad’s headaches came from. Nikki was the type who didn’t need to study or practice. She was blessed with brains and athleticism, which over the years led to boredom and plenty of idle time later to be occupied by sneaking out of the apartment, taking my parents’ cars without their permission, and dating too many unsavory guys.”
“Ah, our greatest nightmares,” she chuckled.
“Yep, my dad tried to keep as close of watch on her as possible, but she was always a rather kindred spirit to my mother. She had an appetite for life and always wanted to be in the middle of the experience,” I said with a growing smile. “It’s kind of funny how siblings bond, despite being so very different. If Nikki and I weren’t sisters, we probably never would have so much as talked to one another. Yet, we were as thick as thieves.”
“She sounds a little bit like Gwen,” said Mrs. Callaghan, looking up at me over a cup of coffee.
“There’s certainly a similar temperament there,” I laughed. “I presume Meyer was always a bit of a handful as well when she was little?”
“You could say that. It’s amusing to see children grow up, how they both change and stay the same.”
“I take it Ian has always been... nonconforming as well,” I said.
“Yes, he has. He had already taken a shining to magic by the time he was four. And as a mother, I assumed it was a phase that he would soon grow out of, but then here we are nearly thirteen years later.”
“I bet it made him a hit with the ladies.”
/> “I’m fairly certain the hitting came from the fists of other male classmates,” she tittered. “Though that didn’t deter the interest of your redheaded friend.”
I almost burst into laughter. “Come again?”
Mrs. Callaghan nodded grinningly.
“Gwen? My Gwen? Gwen Meyer?”
“One in the same. When they were little she used to follow him around like a puppy, though I doubt my son ever noticed. He’s always seemed to be oblivious to any attention a girl may give him. I think it’s because of me. After everything I’ve put him through, I figure unnecessary complications and potential loss aren’t exactly the things he wants to introduce into his life. It’s both a relief and a concern. So to say that the appearances of the incident earlier came as a surprise would be putting it mildly.”
“What’re you two talking about?” said Ian, strolling into the kitchen in a black satin dress shirt and matching jeans.
“You.”
“Oh, no. All my secrets will be revealed. Whatever will I do?” he said monotonously.
“Move out of the country, probably,” I replied.
“We were just discussing your love life, or lack thereof,” said Mrs. Callaghan.
“Mom-”
“I’m not saying-”
“Well, do us all a big favor and not ‘say’ anything else on the matter, please,” he pleaded. “I think I can speak for sons everywhere when I say that nobody wants to hear about our mothers investing interest in anything carnal related to us.”
Ian honestly looked like he was about to be sick.
“I just wish you’d give it a chance,” said Mrs. Callaghan.
He nearly choked on the Coke he began drinking. “Aaahhh! No! No! No! I am not hearing this right now! Please, tell me I am dreaming!”
“Sadly, no,” I interjected.
“I meant opening up to people,” she corrected.
“We have to go, now.” Ian quickly grabbed his things and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek.
“I’m just trying to lend a helping hand,” she said.
“Not helping.”
“Stop being so stubborn.”
“Love you,” he said, before darting out the door.
“Love you, too,” she called out.
“I think that went pretty well,” I said, the two of us nearly on the floor with laughter.
The horn to the truck tapped, and that was clearly my signal to get a move on.
“Thank you for breakfast, and the sideshow,” I said. “Thoroughly entertaining.”
“Anytime, dear.”
“So, shall we continue this discussion on the drive?” I said, climbing into the passenger seat of the Ford.
“Not unless you want me to take a detour off a bluff on the way to school,” he said, still trying to recover.
“You know she means well. She just wants to see you move on, take a chance.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, throwing the gears into reverse.
It was strange seeing Ian’s street in first light. Everything from the dew dampened lawns to Mr. Johnson actually wearing a shirt as he strolled out to grab his morning paper was a new sight.
“So, how did you sleep last night?”
It hadn’t occurred to me until now. “Great, actually.”
Talk about an understatement. No nightmares, no restless thoughts, no haunting memories. It had actually been the best night’s rest I had gotten in months.
Chapter 15
Bad Karma
When Ian and I pulled into the school parking lot, he was immediately flagged down by Mr. Hopkins.
“I’ll catch up with you in a few,” he said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Have fun getting the full lowdown from Gwen about her time with Jeff last night.”
“Yeah, can’t wait,” I said dryly.
We both climbed out of the car and parted ways. I headed towards the front of the building to meet Gwen, who had painted the entire entrance with Homecoming flyers telling everyone to vote for King and Queen.
“As if anyone could forget?” I remarked upon arrival.
“It’s not so much of a reminder as it is an aid to get everyone in the spirit of things,” she said cheerfully.
I grabbed the last few flyers that had yet to be posted and pinned them on the wall as well.
“So, have you made a decision about who you’ll be taking?” asked Gwen.
“Still sorting through my options,” I replied.
“Really? I thought for sure you would have already landed on a certain red-hot, blue-eyed Casanova.”
I pinched my lips together to resist a peculiar smile that crept too quickly to the surface to suppress.
The corner of Gwen’s gaze caught my attire, and almost immediately, her fullest attention was upon me.
“Interesting fashion trend you’re sporting today,” she said curiously. “Isn’t that the top you wore yesterday?”
I looked down at myself and shrugged.
“And, correct me if I’m mistaken, but aren’t those men’s pants?” she further insisted.
“Yeah.”
“Oh. My. God.”
I looked sideways to see Gwen’s mouth dropped down as far as it could go. “You want me to throw you a fish or something? Stop looking at me like that.”
“Did you sleep with Jack?!” she whispered, pulling me in closely so that no one else around could hear.
“What?! No!” I said, jerking away from her. “What would make you think that?”
“Hello! You’re re-wearing your shirt from yesterday, and you’re prancing about in boyfriend jeans! Sounds to me like you didn’t go home last night,” said Gwen.
“No, I didn’t,” I admitted. “But relax, okay. The jeans are Ian’s.”
“You slept with Ian?!” Gwen blurted out shockingly, all attempts at discretion flying out the window.
“No, megaphone-mouth!” I sneered, dragging her away from some of the judgmental eyes belonging to several of the masses of students flocking in the main foyer. “I got locked out of my house last night, so I slept over at Ian’s. And he was kind enough to lend me a pair of pants.”
“And, pray tell, what happened to yours?”
“His mom accidentally threw them in the washer this morning.”
“And why weren’t you wearing pants?” she further interrogated.
“You ever try sleeping in skinny jeans? Not easy,” I said.
“Did you sleep in his bed?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, really? A damsel who's pant-less and in bed with a man... Yeah, it’s hard to put those clues together,” remarked Gwen.
“He wasn’t there with me. He slept downstairs.”
“Hey,” said Ian tentatively to me upon arrival. “Can I ask why everyone thinks you and I slept together last night?”
“What?! Where did you hear that?”
“Twitter,” he said, pulling out his cell.
“I can’t believe this,” I said, turning around and banging my head against a locker door. “Not even sixty seconds, and I’ve gone viral.”
“Again, why?” asked Ian.
Without hesitation, I pointed my finger at Gwen.
“Meyer, what the hell did you do?” demanded Ian.
“Hey, don’t blame me,” declared Gwen. “None of this would’ve happened if she’d just kept her pants on.”
“What? I am so lost right now,” said Ian, just as the second bell rang.
“I only wish I could be. Meyer, you’re gonna be running damage control for the rest of the day,” I said, dragging myself off the locker and proceeding to class.
Despite my best efforts to focus on the lesson plan, the hushed nattering and cell phone vibrating, along with direct pointing and condemnatory stares, it was hard to ignore the fact that I was now the topic of the hour. If there was ever the time for some delinquent burnout to pull the fire alarm or a fraternity-wannabe to go streaking down the hallways, I prayed that it was today. What I woul
d give to become a wallflower again...
“Could I be excused to the ladies’ room?” I asked Mr. Rothenberg the moment he issued us our assignments.
He nodded and handed me the lavatory pass.
“You gonna hookup in the bathroom?” cracked a commentator from the back.
“Quiet, everybody,” Mr. Rothenberg said, turning his attention to wiping down the chalkboard.
Vincent Pierce puckered his lips at me, identifying himself as the pundit. With a sharp glare, I headed out the door.
I wearily walked the hallways, wanting nothing more than to find solace, even if it was just for a few minutes. So, of course, as soon as I rounded the corner, I had to run into Jack, who was leaning contentedly on the wall beside a vending machine.
“Well, look who it is,” he said, his lips curling ever so slightly at the edges.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
“Mr. Hopkins didn’t even notice I left. Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.”
“I’m not in the mood,” I said.
“Don’t tell me you’re letting these clowns get to you,” Jack cracked.
“What? You’re not jumping on the Cassie’s-a-harlot bandwagon?” I quipped.
“Harlot’s a strong word for one suspected encounter,” he smirked.
I rolled my eyes and walked passed him.
“Oh, come on, lighten up,” he said, following after me. “You seriously think I’d buy into you and Ian hooking up?”
“‘Ian and you,’” I corrected. “And why not? Everyone else has already passed judgment.”
“Because you’re not the hook-up type, and you definitely wouldn’t be dating him.”
“You know, that’s what I thought at first. Nothing about the past two months I’ve been here would suggest the kind of temperament for a hookup, that is until you showed up,” I said. “You come walking through those doors, and now I’m suddenly labeled as another one of your trollops who, apparently, is now getting it anywhere she can.”
Divine Vices Page 15
