Radiant Point

by Brei Betzold

  The three of us just meshed, and there were very little transitional pains. The largest issue seemed to be the single bathroom. Jeron and Beth were used to having two bathrooms, me I’d shared with my mom all my life so I just dealt with the less than hot showers. We went to work, hung out some evenings; other’s they would go out with friends or whatever it was they did and I would do my own thing.

  The hardest thing for me was being surrounded at times by Jeron’s friends. They had a tendency of showing up randomly, and they weren’t people I was used to being around. I had heard of most of them, but hearing stories about them in the hallways of high school and having them sitting on your couch were two very drastic differences. Though I had a feeling that when they were around me they were on their best behavior. It left me wondering what Jeron had told them about me.

  Jeron encouraged me to look into the local community college, after a lot of cajoling I agreed. I planned to use what I had saved over the past three years and take a few classes. If I took the basics it would save what I’d later need in loans later. I balked at the idea at first, but I was secretly grateful for the encouragement he gave. I was a little lost without a plan to be honest.

  It was also strange going places with Jeron, before we didn’t go out in public. Now though it seemed his personal mission to get me out of the house when he could I knew I was a far cry from the women Jeron was normally seen with. First was that I unlike them had to wear double digit clothing. Secondly I wore clothing that covered all of my body parts. Luckily Jeron never seemed to notice or care the attention we garnered when we were out together. I eventually learned to ignore the gawking, but for a while I would cringe at the scrutiny we received when walking into places.

  Our first big drama came a month after we moved in. My mother decided it was time to check on me. I still, to this day, do not understand why she was surprised that I was no longer living in the trailer. When she showed up on our door step she was pissed, I not only made her search for me. I had the audacity to move in with Jeron; didn’t I know what kind of boy he was? Why yes, Mother, he was the boy who’d been protecting me for a year now. I think she was more upset about me living with Jeron than the fact I moved, without supposedly telling her. It was hard to keep someone informed of your address when that someone ignored your existence. It escalated into a truly white trash screaming match in our front yard where my mother met my Jeron, it was also the first time my mother had ever physically hurt me.

  Let’s just say Jeron did not react well to pulling up after work to see my mother slap me after I called her a bitch. I’m not proud of calling her that, but after she’d yelled at me, and called me numerous names, I’d finally lost my temper. What I really didn’t expect was Jeron showing up pressing me against his back and telling my mom to leave or he’d be calling the cops rather rudely. It was about that point that I think both my mom and I realized the neighbors had been watching, I was humiliated, my mom left with one last parting shot that Jeron would ruin my life. I didn’t understand how being friends with him would ruin my life, but now that I know the town thought we were sleeping together, it made more sense.

  When she left, Jeron spun around and chewed me out for not calling him when she showed up. I just flicked him off and went inside, he was right behind stomping into the house and slamming the door shut. Jeron ran cold water over a wash cloth, and pressed it to my sore cheek. I knew he was pissed, but I just couldn’t deal with him at that moment, I was fighting hard not to break down. A fight I finally lost as I broke down and cried. Jeron held me once again while I snotted all over his work shirt, and kissed my forehead when I calmed. I was finding myself more and more in this position and I wasn’t sure if I liked it or hated it.

  They say things come in threes … a week after the mom debacle; we had our first major heat wave of the summer. Our house had window unit air conditioners, and while yea they helped in theory, it was still fucking hot. Beth and I decided it would be a good idea to go to Walmart and buy a pool; while we were there she talked me into a bikini. I was never one to show off my body, my curves caused me to cringe when I looked in the mirror. Only she was persistent, and I finally agreed so she would let us leave the store. We also decided to buy a small hibachi and to grill outside for dinner, the idea of adding more heat to our house just sounded like torture.

  When we got home we quickly shed our clothes for our new bikini’s, I only put mine on after she threatened to burn my favorite t-shirt, and flip flops then went out to the back yard and set up the twelve- foot above ground pool we purchased. While it was filling, we made up a batch of margaritas, it was handy having someone over 21 living with us. Beth decided I need some liquid courage, because in all honesty I didn’t feel comfortable running around in the black bikini I bought. Granted it had more material than the day-glo pink one Beth was wearing, but I didn’t have her body.

  Beth was blonde, with those dark blue eyes like her brother, only hers lacked the gold starburst ring. She had that perfect body that every girl wanted, and when standing next to me I knew I was ignored. My 5’6 size ten body didn’t compare, and I was just blah, brown hair, brown eyes, and fair complexion. Except after two ‘ritas I didn’t really care anymore. That, and the pool was filled so we were able to cool down, drink, and listen to music. Something that Beth and I disagreed on, she wanted to listen to top 40, me I was more of an Avenged Sevenfold girl. We finally agreed on Chevelle and then continued to drink more margaritas.

  I’m not sure at what point people started coming over, I just looked up and realized that our back yard, and pool were filled with Beth and Jeron’s friends. I honestly didn’t give it much thought; it wasn’t unusual for people to be over. I knew I had drunk far too much, before I’d had a beer or two with Jeron, but he always stopped me at that point. To this day I couldn’t tell you how many margarita’s I’d drank or at what point I switched to beer. Hell I can’t remember much of that day after the third margarita Beth handed me.

  What I do remember in vivid detail was how Jeron found me when he came in after work. From what people have told me, he wasn’t all too happy about the party going on in his house to begin with, but he just pulled out a beer and joined. It was Friday after all and he was off the next day from the shop. My memory begins at the point I looked up at my doorway and watched the beer Jeron had been holding fall to the floor. Then I realized some guy I didn’t know was on top of me and my bikini top was missing. Just at about this point, the guy disappeared and I heard a thud, then I turned on my side and puked.

  That was the first time I ever had to help bail Jeron Price out of jail. I later learned that Jeron had one less friend and a lot of people got their asses chewed out for ever letting me get into that position.

  Jer and I had a white knight saves the princess relationship, he always swooped in and saved my day. I just wished he had let me do the same for him at times.

  As I said before everything seems to happen in thirds, my question is why is the third always the worst? The first two, while humiliating, were easy to fix. Well maybe not the waiting to bail Jeron out of jail thing; ever hang out in a police station still slightly drunk in nothing but a bikini top, wet t-shirt on top and a pair of cut offs? If not, let me tell you it’s uncomfortable at best, miserable at worst. Though the worst part was being yelled at by Jeron on the way home while his friends sat and listened. The third drama of that summer wasn’t one that was as easily fixed though. It also changed our newly found dynamic forever.

  It all started with my car not starting, I bought my car the summer after I turned sixteen for five hundred dollars; it’s held together by duct tape and hope. So it wasn’t a big surprise when it wouldn’t start, one more bonus of living with Jeron, he was a mechanic. When I called him he said he’d look at the car when he got home, then I went to beg Beth for a ride to work. I found her curled over the toilet dry heaving, and when I walked in she looked up at me and her eyes were full of fear. Without saying a word, I pulled my n
ewly acquired cell phone and called my boss to let him know I wouldn’t be able to make it.

  I already had an idea on what was going on, so I sat down beside her and rubbed her back until she was ready to talk. When she looked back at me here eyes were so bleak. “I think I need a test,” she murmured into my shoulder. I nodded, kissed her forehead then grabbed her keys from her purse and drove to the pharmacy, no questions needed.

  I never knew there were so many pregnancy tests until that moment. I’d never had any reason to come down to this part of the aisle. The humor of condoms being placed next to the pregnancy tests was not lost on me. Though if I were here buying a test for myself, I think I’d have found it mocking. I finally chose one after reading the back of five and realized they’re all basically the same thing.

  I never thought about the psychological aspect of being a teenage girl buying a pregnancy test. I sat the test on the counter and the look from the sale lady made me feel dirty, ashamed, and I was a virgin. I fidgeted while the lady seemed to take forever to ring up the test and the entire time I could feel the judgment pouring off of her in waves. When she finally finished and bagged the test, I basically threw the money at her, got my change then sprinted out of there. All the while I wanted to scream it’s not for me at the top of my lungs so she would stop looking at me like that, a mixture of pity and horror.

  When I got home, I found Beth still sitting on the floor in the bathroom, this time her back leaning against the wall in front of the commode. She barely registered it when I sat down beside her, the plastic bag crinkling ominously. We sat there quietly lost in our thoughts until she held her hand out silently and I handed her the noisy bag. I went to stand and leave the room but she grabbed my wrist so I sat back down and watched as she pulled the plastic stick out of the package. She gulped in air as she sat and peed on the stick, I held her hand the entire time, when finished she sat it on the counter beside the toilet, pulled up her pants and curled into my side. It was the longest three minutes of our lives.

  Once time was up, she gestured to me and I sat up on my knees and saw the two bright pink stripes and sighed. At that point she broke down in tears, great sobs wracking her body so I just wrapped myself around her and let her cry. We eventually left the bathroom for the living room, where she still had the test gripped tightly in her hand. We didn’t speak for hours, I just held her while our thoughts raced with what was to come.

  She eventually fell asleep and I pried the test out of her fingers and tossed it on the coffee table and then laid her head down on my lap and ran my fingers through her hair as she slept. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because when I awoke it was to find Jeron sitting on the table in front of us, test in hand. He was staring down at that piece of white plastic, dumbstruck. When he finally looked up at me, his eyes held such sadness.

  “Trin,” he whispered, “did I not get to the guy in time?”

  It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about; when I did, I wanted to laugh.

  “When I heard you were at the pharmacy buying a pregnancy test, I thought they were joking.”

  “Stupid small towns,” I muttered. “Jer, that’s not mine.”

  “Shh, Trin, it’ll be okay. I won’t leave you, we’ll do what we need to; I’m not going anywhere.”

  I ran my fingers through Beth’s hair and thought for a moment about letting him believe it was mine. To give her time to adjust and get the courage to tell him. Except Jeron and I didn’t lie to each other, and I couldn’t start now.

  “Jeron, yes I bought the test, but the test wasn’t for me.” I felt my face flame. “Jer, I’m still a virgin.”

  I watched as he blinked and the information took hold; his eyes widened in utter horror then glanced down at the seventeen-year-old girl in my lap. “No,” he whispered.

  The following weeks were difficult; at first Beth’s boyfriend said he’d be there, he wouldn’t leave her. Then when he told his parents, his story changed. He couldn’t give up his life because of a mistake. I thought I was going to have to bail Jeron out of jail again when he found out. After that it was discussions of what Beth wanted to do now; she kept debating abortion, keeping it, or adoption over the next week. Often asked what I thought she should do, but I refused to answer; that wasn’t a decision anyone but her could make.

  Though being the child of a teenage single mother wasn’t easy, I’m sure being the teenage mother was even harder. I’m grateful my mother didn’t do as her parents said and have an abortion, but we struggled every day. And I don’t think that is a situation you can honestly make a decision on unless you’ve been there.

  In the end, Beth decided to move in with their dad who had a small apartment on the coast for when he was home from the off-shore oil rig he worked on. She also contacted an adoption agency to discuss open adoptions. Jeron and I supported her as much as we could, but by the time she left she was mad at us both for not telling her what to do.

  Six months later, Beth had a daughter that she gave to a happily married couple who weren’t able to have children. I think Beth is one of the strongest women I know, and I look at her in awe often because of that strength.

  A shift happened after Beth left to live with their dad; I didn’t really pick up on it, it was that subtle. It was strange coming home to the quiet house now. I was used to Beth running around in a cloud of perfume, yelling about not being able to find a shirt, or her crappy music blaring behind closed doors trying to hide the giggles and the fact her boyfriend was there. It seemed like her ghost was there following us around, whispering how things had changed.

  Every summer since I turned sixteen, I would swear I was going to chop off my hair. It was no different this time; by the time August hit I was miserable. My long boring brown hair had finally met its match, when I left the salon I felt about five pounds lighter and ten degrees cooler. My hair now brushed just below my jaw, and the slight breeze against my neck had me sighing in relief. The ringlets that were hidden by the sheer weight of my hair now flourished with the care the stylist took, and then showed me how to recreate it at home.

  Until I reached the age of eighteen I’d been on state insurance; state insurance covered basic care, including eye care. Only it left me with limitations on what I could and could not have, and with no extra money the idea of contacts was just that, an idea. An idea that I had wanted to act on since I was fourteen. I’d been working full time at the book store and reached my ninety-day mark, so I now qualified for insurance. After I walked out of the salon, I headed down the street to the optometrist hoping I could get a walk-in appointment. I was tired of wearing glasses, and the idea of being able to wear sunglasses and see at the same time had me almost salivating.

  It seemed to be my lucky day and they had a cancelation. After some puffs of air were shot into my retinas and a doctor asking one or two repeatedly as we tried to find my prescription, I was finished. The doctor’s assistant handed me a box of contacts and led me through my initiation on how to put them in, take them out, and care for them. When I had a firm handle on what to do, I walked out into the sunlight for the first time without heavy frames around my eyes weighing me down. There was no sweat collecting at my temple, only a soft breeze across my face that I relished. I could have cried when I dug through my bag and found the sunglasses that I rarely wore. I put them on and blinked as the world came into focus, it was an amazing sight to behold. Everything was tinted in a darker shade, but the best part was I could see a foot in front of me. I’d have to come back in a week to get the rest of my order, but I looked forward to it.

  On the way home I stopped by the pizza place and got a supreme for Jeron and a Canadian bacon and pineapple for me. Jeron hated my pizza topping choices, stating that fruit did not belong on a pizza. I hated pepperoni with a passion, so we decided early on it was safer to just order two and keep the leftovers for lunches the next day. The idea of leftovers though was a joke; Jeron could finish off an entire large and still be starvi
ng … I had no idea where he put the amount of food he ate.

  When I walked in, it was to find Jeron standing in front of the refrigerator in a pair of basketball shorts, a backward baseball cap and little else. You would think I would have gotten used to seeing him like this, but no, my crush was still very much in affect.

  “Oh God, please say you have food,” he whined before turning around. He stopped, mouth gaping while staring at me, he blinked slowly. “What did you do, Trin?”

  “Hu?” I just stared at him blankly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, dropping the pizza on the counter and shoving my sunglasses on top of my head.

  “You cut your hair,” he whined, his face almost looked pained.

  “Well it’s fucking hot, Jeron.” I had no idea why he was reacting this way, it wasn’t his damn hair.

  He just stared at me a moment. “But you cut off your hair.” He gestured toward my head.

  “Yes,” I said deadpan, “I cut my hair, didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

  “Why?” Oh, now he was pouting, and I was getting pissed.

  “Jeron, it was damn near to my ass; it was hot, heavy and uncomfortable. I was tired of taking care of it, get over it.”

  He sighed dejectedly. “I like the curls, didn’t know you had them,” he mumbled.

  I grinned. “Thanks, I didn’t either.” I was relieved when he finally said something nice about what I did today, it wasn’t like I did it for him. Yea okay, so I hoped he liked it, but it really was about the heat, and the time it took to wash and dry.

  He pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Guess I’ll get used to it.”