by Shelia Grace
By the time Mom had finally found out that I had been dropped from Calculus, she had given me her best you didn’t try hard enough speech. It was good and bad that Mom thought I could achieve anything I put my mind to. It was good because at least she had faith in my academic abilities. It was bad because it made it impossible for her to understand that I really sucked at Calculus and I hated it.
I had been lying in bed half the day working on a short story—not for class, just for me. But I was starting to get restless, so I went downstairs and grabbed the keys to the Civic, my old car, which I had left behind when I went to school. Even though I didn’t have a car at school, I was still on Mom and Stephen’s insurance policy, which was another thing I’d been paying for with any money I made over the summer.
Getting into the driver’s seat, I sat there and tried to think of where to go. If I had been home, I would have driven along PCH all the way to Zuma. I hadn’t seen the ocean since the summer, and I missed it. Finally I decided to drive to the coast anyway.
The only problem was that a trip to the coast required getting on 405 before cutting through to Laguna Beach. I had gone there a couple of times over the summer after the move before discovering that Laguna Beach in the summertime was a fucking madhouse. Sitting in traffic for an hour just to see the water hadn’t been fun. Today, though, it was drizzling and chilly. Not exactly beach weather.
There were condo buildings and apartments everywhere as soon as I got off the freeway. Stephen, who had grown up in Orange County, said that everything from the freeway to the coast used to be farmland, but I couldn’t even imagine it.
It only took a half hour to get to Coast Highway, but I couldn’t find a good place to park, so I drove south. Then, just as I was about to give up on a good spot to pull over, I saw a parking lot with beach access and pulled in. The beach was pretty much devoid of life. This wasn’t the kind of beach you visited to walk around in the rain. People came here to get tan. Slipping off my shoes, I walked down to the water. Pacific Ocean my ass. The waves were choppy and rough.
Sitting down in the sand, I looked up at the sky. The grayness from Northern California’s long winter seemed to have followed me south. Watching the waves, I brushed away the tears that had collected in the corners of my eyes.
After hearing nothing from Ryan, I wanted to think that I was over it—that I was over him. But I wasn’t. If I hadn’t gotten hit by the car, if Ryan hadn’t run out of the hospital room that day, then today I might have been in a hotel room in San Francisco, no longer a virgin.
It was weird to think about now. Like the whole thing with Ryan had been a long, surreal dream that I had woken up from after the accident. Looking up at the sky, I wondered how long this ache in my chest would last. Would it go away once my ribs were completely healed? Or would I feel like this forever? My phone rang, causing my heart to skip a beat. For one, silly second I thought it might be Ryan. Then I looked down and saw Mom’s number.
“Hi, Mom. I’m coming home now.”
She asked me to pick up some stuff at the grocery store on my way back, and with a sigh, I put the phone back in my pocket and got up. I started walking back to the car and then turned back once to look at the crashing silver water, the flat gray horizon. I would be back here in a few months, and if I drove to this spot, it wouldn’t look the same. The sky would be blue, the water would be turquoise, and the beach would be crammed with people.
Things would change. I was just worried that my heart wouldn’t. That it would stay cracked like this.
When I walked into the house an hour later with Mom’s odd assortment of groceries, I cringed at the sound of unfamiliar voices. Fuck! I hated it when Mom did this. I hated surprises, particularly ones where she foisted strangers on me with no notice. A little heads up would be nice for once. Then I remembered that I was just a visitor. I didn’t belong here. Turning the corner, I walked into the kitchen where my mom was putting together a graham crust and talking to a woman sitting at the island. The woman looked like a stereotypical OC housewife, way more so than Mom did. She was fully done up, with over-the-top highlights, a bronzed tan, bubblegum lipstick, and a French manicure that looked like it had never seen a dish.
“Alexis, honey! Come meet Lisa. They live next door.”
I smiled. They? Did this woman have multiple personalities?
“Nice to meet you.”
“Your mom says you just got back from Northern California. You should have stayed down here where it’s warm!”
I smiled blandly.
“Ooh. I should have Josh show you around,” she cooed with no explanation.
“Lisa’s son just finished school at San Diego State—you said last year, Lis?” Mom asked her.
I put away the milk and smiled.
“He’s working for Charles at the firm while he applies to law schools.”
“They’re coming over for dinner, so you’ll meet him tonight,” Mom said.
I tried to hide my horror. I would have come up with an excuse, but if I lied and said I was driving up to see Rachel, Mom would have totally called my bluff since I had already told her that Rachel was in Lake Havasu with her suitemates. I racked my brain for some other innocuous lie just to get out of dinner with the neighbors, but I couldn’t think of one, mostly because I had absolutely no life in Irvine.
“Oh!” the woman cried. “I almost forgot. I’ve got to meet the trainer in a half hour. We’ll be back at seven.”
“Don’t worry about bringing dessert.”
The woman blinked, like the thought had never occurred to her. I smiled again as she slid off the barstool and started walking toward the front door, her sandals slapping the tile. I turned to Mom and gave her a look.
“You could have warned me.”
“Alexis, honey. You can’t stay in your room all break and mope.”
“What are you talking about? I just got back from the beach!” I cried defensively.
She smirked.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, really. I don’t. Mind filling me in?”
“Alex, I know that boy who came to the hospital wasn’t just a friend.”
I turned bright red and bit the inside of my cheek.
“I just hope you were being safe,” she said, looking down at the peppers.
“Mom! We were not …”
I trailed off as I realized how close I had actually gotten to having sex with Ryan Bennett.
“Well, honey. He was what? Twenty-six?”
I shook my head, not bothering to clarify that he was twenty-eight.
“He was too old,” she said sternly.
“Stephen is eight years older than you are!”
“And I’m forty-five, sweetie!”
And what if I love him? I asked silently. When Stephie burst in the front door, I exhaled as Mom’s eyes lit up. Technically, Stephie and I were only half sisters, but I had never thought of her that way. She was the only sister I had.
“Alex! Look!”
She rose up on her toes gracefully.
“Toe shoes!” she squeaked.
I went over and gave her a high-five.
“You are awesome!”
I hugged her before heading up to my room. Nearly seven years younger than me, Stephie had driven me crazy all the way through school—getting into my stuff, hiding in my closet, saying embarrassing things in front of my friends. Then, right after I had left for school, everything had changed. For the first time, I had seen her for the cool little person she was. Now, I wished I could be more like her—trusting, outgoing, a little reckless, graceful, popular. She was the kid everyone wanted to hang out with.
Closing the door to my room, I could hear her giving Mom a rundown of her ballet class. I plugged in my headphones and started rifling through the remains of my closet to find stuff I wanted to take back to school with me. Taking out the dress I had worn to junior prom with Rachel, I studied it. It wasn’t anywhere near as awesome as the one from R
yan’s sister’s shop, but if I ever found myself in need of a dress again, I could use it. I shoved the little black heels into my bag next, and when I was done with my salvage operation, I looked for an OC-appropriate dinner outfit. My white shirt was a bad idea; I’d just end up with a big stain on it, so I settled for jeans and a black sweater.
“Alex!”
I jumped up and took off my headphones. I had almost forgotten that Stephen was home, since he was perpetually barricaded in his office like the women of the household were going to carry him off. I ran down the stairs and opened his door. He had my laptop on his desk.
“I took off a bunch of the programs you weren’t using, so it should run faster. And you hadn’t downloaded any updates since you were here for winter break!”
I grinned sheepishly.
“That’s what you’re here for. Tech support.”
Stephen handled the technical and financial issues; Mom handled emotional and household issues. If Stephen ever had to caulk the bathtub or clean a toilet, he’d be screwed. If Mom had to keep track of the finances, panic and chaos would ensue. I was glad they had each other. Every once in a while, I debated whether I should just give in and call Stephen Dad, but it was too weird. I had a dad, out there somewhere, even if I never heard from him.
“Can you ask your mom when she wants me to turn on the grill?”
“Sure.”
Rain or shine, Stephen loved grilling. It was the one semi-domestic art he was really into. Taking my laptop, I walked back into the kitchen and asked Mom about the dinner itinerary.
“Well, they’re coming over at seven, so six-thirty maybe?”
She always phrased these things as a question, like her plans might change at any second. I nodded and started going back toward Stephen’s office.
“Alex?”
I turned around.
“You know I just worry about you while you’re so far away.”
I smiled at her.
“Mom, I’m eighteen. And, to be fair, you worry about everything.”
“I know, but I worry about my first-born the most …”
I smiled even though I knew it wasn’t true. Stephie was—and always would be—the center of Mom’s universe. But I could see why Mom would never admit it. She loved us both; she just loved Stephie differently. She loved Stephie in a way that maybe mothers could only love the offspring of the man they loved, not the man they considered the biggest mistake of their adult lives. For Mom, her biggest mistake had been my father. I wasn’t bitter, just realistic.
“… So, when some boy shows up at the hospital looking as worried as I am about you—”
“Not quite.”
She gave me a look.
“I just don’t want you getting in over your head.”
I looked down.
“Well, I’m back in the shallow end, so don’t worry about me.”
Hooking up with Ryan Bennett had been a freak occurrence, and I was officially swearing off guys. Because, other than Ryan, all I seemed to attract were stalkers, frat sociopaths, and drunken dorks from Rachel’s dorm. And as long as I didn’t hang out on the third floor of the library in the middle of the night or go to any frat parties, I’d be fine. Or at least I’d pretend to be.
“Do you need help?” I asked.
“You could wash the lettuce.”
I went over to the refrigerator and pulled out the lettuce. Mom got her produce from the farmers’ market twice a week. It was organic, but it was also filthy. It took twenty minutes just to get it clean enough to run through the salad spinner. Then I chopped the tomato and some carrots after that.
“You know, the Wilts’ son is cute,” Mom said as she poured the mix for the chocolate tart into the graham crust she had made earlier.
I nodded and bit back a smart comment. If the neighbors’ son had graduated from college last year, that would make him twenty-three or twenty-four. And if Mom thought Ryan Bennett was way too old, what made this guy any better? Besides, I was going back to school in less than a week. I had zero interest in drama. I had had enough.
Going back to my room, I gathered up all the stuff I wanted to bring back to school with me to see if I could fit it all in my bags. Then I showered and changed, and by the time seven o’clock rolled around, I was officially dreading dinner. When I had first gotten home, my main goal had been to try to stop thinking of Ryan every two fucking minutes. Now my goal was to paste a fake smile on my face and survive dinner. At the sound of the doorbell, my pulse spiked. On the bright side, dinner with the OC neighbors might distract me for an hour or two. When Mom yelled for me, I grudgingly put down my book and walked out of the room. Seeing Stephie was in her room with her friend Hannah, I waved. Lucky her. She wasn’t expected to march downstairs to entertain the neighbors’ son.
By the time I got to the kitchen, Stephen was at the bar mixing drinks—something I had never seen him do. Stephen drank wine and beer, not hard liquor. Standing next to him was a tall man, who was laughing too loudly as he slapped Stephen on the back. I watched as he knocked back whatever Stephen had just handed him. Lisa, the OC housewife, was already sitting at the counter with a glass of red wine. I saw Mom cringe as the woman took a can of lemon lime soda and poured some into the glass with the wine before stirring it with her finger. Turning, I saw that the TV in the great room was on, and there was someone on the couch watching a basketball game.
“Josh! Come over here and meet Alexis,” Lisa chastised.
I cringed inwardly, feeling like I was in elementary school on a play date. Watching as the neighbors’ son rose from the couch, I forced my smile into place even as my stomach somersaulted. He was good looking in a bland sort of way, but he had second-floor asshole written all over him. His brown eyes were narrowed like he was sizing me up, and his square jaw made him look like a caveman to me.
“Josh, this is Alexis.”
“Hi,” I said with a small wave.
He walked up and took my hand when I offered it. When his middle finger slid across my palm, I jerked back. He smirked at me, and I realized that this guy made Ryan’s friend James look like a charming specimen.
“I was telling Alexis earlier that you would show her around Irvine,” his mother cooed like I was five years old.
“You going to school up north?” he asked in a disinterested way.
I nodded and tried to think of something to say.
“Did you like San Diego?”
He shrugged and looked back toward the TV. Digging my fingernails into my palm, I wished I could go back upstairs and finish my book without looking rude. But Mom would die of embarrassment if I did that. For being such a “free spirit,” she was kind of obsessed with good manners, and I’d never hear the end of it if I just walked away.
During dinner, I avoided saying much, which was easy, mostly because Lisa and Charles Wilt never shut up. They talked about their cars, their vacations, and their beach house in San Diego. In fact, I was surprised that “Chuck” Wilt didn’t just come out and say how much money he made as partner at his law firm. By the time everyone got up and went into the living room for dessert, I offered to do the dishes. Mom had made an epic mess as usual, and I figured her kitchen disaster would keep me busy until they left. I expected Mom to give me grief for hanging out in the kitchen, but I was pretty sure that even she didn’t want to deal with her own mess tonight. It took me nearly an hour to clean up, and I stopped by the living room just as the Wilts were leaving. I smiled, said the usual nice to me you, and nodded when Mom and Lisa said—again—that Josh should show me around.
“Alexis, why don’t you give him your cell phone number?”
Okay. Now I wanted to fucking kill Mom. What the hell? Couldn’t she just leave it? Josh Wilt looked about enthusiastic as I did, which was a relief. I rattled off my number, scowling when Mom added the area code from Santa Monica, which I had conveniently omitted.
Feeling annoyed and over-parented, I went and got my jacket from upstairs and tol
d Mom and Stephen that I was going for a walk around the block. When Mom gave me her worried face, I pressed my lips together.
“That’s why you guys moved here, right? Good schools, safe to walk around the block?” I forced a smile. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
I walked outside and sighed. Patting my pockets, I remembered that I didn’t even have a key to the front door. I … was a guest. Checking the weather on my phone, I saw that it was supposed to be in the eighties by tomorrow. I scrolled to Julie’s number and walked up the street.
“How goes it?” she asked.
“Needed a fucking break from my visit back to fifth grade,” I sighed.
“No shit, right? My mother’s been trying to have ‘the talk’ with me about my attitude, so I’m on my way to visit friends in SF. There’s an eighties night at an all ages club.”
“I’m jealous. My mom’s trying to get the neighbor guy to show me around Irvine.”
Julie cackled.
“Is he a horrid freak?”
“Not exactly, but he would fit in quite well on the second floor of Mercer.”
“So, he’s a dick …”
“Yup. Totally.”
“How are you doing otherwise?”
I sat down on the curb at the end of the street.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“No. My ribs still hurt a little, and I can’t stop thinking about him. But enough about my bullshit. Have you talked to Chris since break?”
There was a pause.
“Um, he’s kinda coming with tonight.”
“Fuck, Julie! Why didn’t you tell me? That is awesome!”
“Alex, hold on. My friend’s on the other line. Can I call you back?”
“No, it’s okay. Drive safe. I’ll see you after break.”
I ended the call and put the phone back in my pocket before walking toward the house. Passing by the Wilts’ house, I looked at the shiny Mustang parked in the driveway. Then I saw an ember burning in the dark right before the neighbor stepped into the light. Why didn’t it surprise me that he was a smoker?
