by Owens, Molly
I woke the next morning to knocking at my bedroom door. My clock read ten-thirty.
“Chelsea, rise and shine!” I heard Conner’s voice call.
I staggered across the room to open the door, rolled my eyes at him, and was back in bed before he’d made it all the way inside. I wondered if seeing me in this disheveled state would help to stomp out some of his infatuation. A small but loud part of me hoped not; how screwed up is that?
“You look like you had a rough night,” he observed as he pushed me over gently and got in bed next to me.
“People like me don’t need caffeine or uppers to keep them awake. I’ve got my own mind forever harassing me with disturbing thoughts or harrowing nightmares,” I said sourly, “You on the other hand seem extraordinarily chipper this morning.”
“What’s not to be happy about? It’s a beautiful morning, my best friend is no longer implicated in a murder plot, and we’ve got a birthday party to go to.” So I guess the fact that said friend rejected you last night is not causing you any loss of sleep.
“Whose birthday is it?” I asked.
“My grandfather’s. I’m hoping you can be convinced to be my date to his little shindig,” he said hopefully. The word date jumped out at me like a hot spark from a fire.
“Only if your grandma’s making her gnocchi.”
“It wouldn’t be a party if she wasn’t,” he pointed out, grinning widely. Of course he knew I would follow him wherever he planned on taking me, my standards were pretty low, when it came to Conner. He put his arm around me and pulled me into one of his hugs. I commanded my body to relax, and it eventually relented. Conner’s hug was a rejuvenating force not unlike getting out of a cool pool and then letting the hot sun dry your skin. A general sense of well-being and contentment washed over me and marinated my body.
“This feels better,” he finally said into my hair, “That hug last night made me feel like crap.”
“Amen to that,” I agreed, “Let’s never let that happen again, okay?”
“Agreed.”
“Hey Conner,” I said after a quiet minute, our arms still around each other, “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings last night. It’s not like I couldn’t ever feel that way about you. It’s just that that part of my heart is otherwise engaged at the moment, you know?”
“I understand,” he said quietly.
“The thing is your friendship is really important to me, and I wouldn’t ever want that to change.”
I felt him kiss my head lightly, and then, there it was, one itty bitty, teeny weenie butterfly, fluttering its wings in the pit of my stomach. A small smile rolled over my face. So, maybe my heart hadn’t put up the no vacancy sign after all.
When I was born my mom put me on the Evergreen Nursery School waitlist. At age four my name finally came up for a spot. I remember very clearly walking into the warm inviting classroom on my first day of school. There was a carpet square just for me, a cubby with my name on it, and perhaps most memorably, every adult in the room knew me by name and smiled at me like they’d never been so happy to see a kid in their lives. I remember feeling so completely at home that I didn’t even cry when my mom left.
That is kind of what I felt like each time I’d been at a Bianchi family function. Every one of them, from Conner’s ancient great-grandmother with two inch thick glasses that hung precariously off the edge of her nose, right down to his nine month old niece with thunder thighs the size of loaves of bread, hugged me as if they were overjoyed at my presence. I have to admit a girl could get used to this kind of reception. Of course, they were the same with one another as well. I reasoned that all this hugging must be why Conner had mastered the art so successfully himself; years of practice.
Little Pickle, the baby, was shoved into my arms as soon as we walked in the door that afternoon. I was certain Little Pickle couldn’t be her birth name, but that’s what everyone called her, so I didn’t question it. She was a squirmy little thing, who was constantly being passed from one person to the next. Her thick red hair had been pulled into two ponytails that stuck out like carrot sticks on either side of her head.
“Thank god you’re here, Chelsea,” exclaimed Stella hugging and then dragging me toward the kitchen, “I am desperate for your help! Gram has, once again, totally over extended herself.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Conner who was being jostled into a man-hug by his sister Chloe’s husband, Rick.
“Chelsea!” boomed Conner’s mom, Mary, as she tightly squeezed me, “It’s so good to see you! How are you holding up with your folks out of town? You know you are welcome at our house any time you get lonely. I was so happy Conner was able to help with your air conditioner unit the other night. He’s just so handy.” So that was his excuse for sneaking away to my house in the middle of the night the other day.
“I know,” I responded, “He’s such a saint.”
“Erving is going to be thrilled you could make it dear,” said Conner’s grandmother as she burst into the kitchen with oven mitts on both of her hands.
The greetings continued on like this until ever member of the Bianchi extended family had gotten their chance to squeeze me. At some point in the mayhem I was able to pass off Little Pickle to Conner’s great Aunt Bernice. I found myself alone in the kitchen with Conner’s three sisters, Stella, Chloe, and Donnie. They were in a rush, as was the constant pace of the Bianchi family, to get all the food prepared. I was put to work cutting carrots, although I was suspicious that they were just trying to keep me busy, I didn’t see where the carrots were fitting in anywhere.
“So tell us the truth,” Donnie asked her hands covered in ground pork from the meatballs she was making, “Is our little bro a good kisser?” The three sisters exploded into giggles at this.
“Donnie!” Stella shrieked, “You don’t need to answer that Chelsea. Ignore her, we all do.”
I laughed, attempting to sound like the question hadn’t just sent me into a mini cardiac arrest, “I wouldn’t know, we’re just friends,” I replied, “But I’m sure he is. Conner is good at most things.”
“What?” Chloe froze and looked at me seriously. The whole kitchen became silent.
“You’re just friends?” Donnie asked sounding astounded.
“Yeah,” I looked at them with a sincere face, “Swear on my left pinky toe.”
“I guess he wasn’t lying,” observed Stella, “Too bad.”
“Well you never know when things could change,” said Chloe optimistically, “Rick and I were just friends once too.”
“Yeah, and we all know where that ended up,” laughed Donnie poking Chloe in her extremely pregnant belly.
We all broke into laughter at this comment and I was relieved to find the conversation quickly turning to other topics.
After cutting through two bags of carrots and a half a sack of potatoes for no obvious reason, I was allowed to make my escape to the back yard. Conner and the rest of his family were sitting around the pool, while six exuberant kids took turns jumping off the end of a diving board. I found a spot next to Conner who patted me on the side of my thigh and smiled at me.
“They let you off of KP, huh?”
“Only barely,” I replied with a smile to match his.
The rest of the afternoon and into the evening was spent splashing in the pool with the little kids, playing a fiercely competitive game of water polo with Conner’s cousins and brother-in-laws, and eating more food then I think is actually legal in the state of California.
When the sun began to set, and the day went from insanely scorching to bearably hot, I followed Conner into the house to change out of my swim suit. He showed me to his grandparent’s room. My eyes traced Conner’s movements as he flipped on a lamp on the bedside table. The soft light came on, spilling over his tanned face. I noticed how each freckle on his nose seemed to be placed with great thought and intention. For a moment I was consumed by Conner’s image, amazed at how it was like I was seeing him all over again
for the first time. He looked up at me, feeling my eyes studying him. Without speaking he came over to me and placed his hands on my face. And there it was again, that little, but determined, butterfly in my tummy, demanding for me to take notice.
The silence in the room was thick. All I could hear was my own unsteady breathing as Conner’s finger tips lightly grazed my chin, cheeks, and up to my forehead. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy a sensation that knew I shouldn’t be having, that I should be fighting against. Finally I took his hands from my face and brought them to my lips, brushing them lightly, kissing them once and then resting my cheek on them. It was one of the most intimate moments I’d had up to that point in my life and I didn’t care that it was with the wrong person, because it felt so completely right.
My eyes looked up at Conner’s, and his down at me. His expression was questioning. What was I expecting to happen next, he seemed to be asking. I didn’t know, but I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to live forever in the warm dim light of that very instant.
Suddenly, Levi’s face flashed in my mind and broke the moment to pieces. The face I saw was not the sweet, supple one I pictured as I fell asleep each night. It was the face I’d seen only once, in that squalid garage doubling as a bedroom, as he’d forced a gun barrel down a man’s throat; a face full of rage and bitter contempt. I dropped Conner’s hands and took a step backwards.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, “I shouldn’t...”
“I know,” he said with sad eyes, “It’s okay.”
Conner left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. I sat down on the edge of his grandparent’s bed, fiddling with the lace on the comforter as I tried to think rationally about what had just happened. I needed to pull in the metaphoric reins on this run away disaster of a horse my life was becoming. Since when were my hormones so out of control that I would actually consider cheating on my boyfriend with my closest, and only, friend? I was sure it was Conner’s fault for planting this seed in my mind in the first place. Although, I had to be honest with myself, it’s not like I hadn’t considered Conner in that way before, I had just been so altogether consumed by thoughts of Levi to take much notice.
I loved Levi, right? Well at least I was very much in lust with him, and I was certainly not going to risk ruining everything. I had to control myself, for Levi, and for my friendship with Conner. Okay, calling on logical Chelsea. Come out, come out, wherever you are! You are needed ASAP!
I got changed out of my swim suit, pulling on my Levi jeans, and I don’t mean Straus, and a tank top. As I walked into the hallway, Stella pulled me into the kitchen to help her light the birthday candles. I didn’t count, but by the full-on inferno alight on the cake, I wouldn’t be surprised if all seventy-five years were accounted for. I followed her out to the back deck as the family began singing Happy Birthday, in loud operatic voices. I glanced at Conner who was smiling happily at the scene before him. I could feel all my resolve begin to melt away as the candle light flashed against his warm skin, and deep in my stomach that damned butterfly began flapping her little wings.
20
I had been kept awake most of the previous night by my chatterbox of a brain harassing me with worries about Conner and Levi. I had probably gotten a grand total of twenty minutes of sleep, counting the two minutes that I dozed off in the shower. My eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead as I unlocked the gate to Yogurt Heaven that morning. I was ineffective at pushing up the heavy mesh chain that covered the front of the store and had to ask Raj, from Hot Dog on a Stick, for help. I was now convinced that there were serious physiological repercussions to not getting enough sleep. I’d never experience such problems with that gate before.
Whoever had closed the previous night had fully stocked the topping bar and had done a thorough job of cleaning, so there was nothing left for me to do but sit back with my sixty four ounce cup of Dr. Pepper and read the Agatha Christie mystery I had brought with me.
Two excruciatingly slow hours, another sixty four ounces of Dr. Pepper, and about three hundred pages later, I got a call from Conner lobbying me to go with him and his family camping the next day. My first reaction to the idea of spending an extended period of time with Conner was one of excitement, which quickly faded into my second response, trepidation. Could I really be trusted to be alone with Conner after our little romantic interlude last night?
The reaction that spilled out of my mouth, however, had nothing to do with either of these concerns, “I don’t know, Con, I’m not really the camping type. I mean sleeping outdoors, really? Didn’t we evolve past that with the advent of central air conditioning and DVR players?”
He laughed heartily at my reaction, knowing that my objection would be easy for him to talk me out of, “Well, too late, I already invited Milo and Becca. Becca’s mom would only agree to let her go when my mom said you’d be there. Besides it will be good for you to get back to your cavewoman roots.”
“So I guess your invitation was more of a command,” I said lightly.
“Think of it as a courtesy invite,” he laughed again, “But seriously it will be fun.”
Conner offered to have his mom talk to my parents, but they were somewhere at the bottom of a deep crevice, and anyway, I was sure they would be thrilled at the idea of me getting out into the great outdoors. I did do the responsible thing, and told my sister where I was off to, figuring somebody should know I hadn’t been abducted by aliens.
Becca called me seconds after I got off the phone with Conner. She was beyond ecstatic at the idea of camping with her boyfriend. They were apparently deeply in love, and she was something like Juliet to his Romeo. Their parents were very restrictive of their involvement, Becca’s mom because she was always strict, and Milo’s because he had been grounded ever since his drunken escapade with the Jungle Juice.
Becca’s enthusiasm spilled over on to me and I started to feel genuinely excited about the three day, two night adventure into the California outback. I talked Becca into meeting me at the Yogurt Heaven so we could go shopping for last minute supplies at the mall. In reality, I didn’t have anything I needed, but I thought it seemed like a good excuse to shop. Not to mention, my parents had given me money for food while they were gone, and since I’d been living off of frozen yogurt and the drags of the refrigerator, I thought I should spend what cash I had left before they returned and demanded a refund.
The rest of my shift squeaked by until it was eventually time for me to clock out. Becca met me at the yogurt shop and we then headed straight for Macy’s to try on swim suits. We’d be camping by a lake, so new swim wear would be imperative. I rationalized that I needed a new bikini anyway, with it being over ninety-five degrees most days.
As we buzzed through the racks we discussed Milo. Becca was completely obsessed, that much was clear. She talked about each of his seemingly quirky personality traits as if they were perks. For instance, she found the fact that he insisted on pulling his striped sport socks up to his knees when he wore shorts, absolutely adorable. I didn’t point out that to the rest of the world this would make him look totally ridiculous. I didn’t want to burst her delusional bubble. I wondered if there was anything about Levi that only I would consider cute. I seriously doubted it. I was pretty much convinced that just about any female with a beating heart would find him as irresistible as I did. Conner, I knew was a different story, but I didn’t let my mind wonder too far down that path.
Becca headed to the dressing room with her arms full of spandex-lykra blends. I told her I’d meet her in there. I couldn’t resist trying on the new True Religion short shorts they’d just gotten in. I was halfway through a stack of shorts, looking for my size, when I heard a familiar voice. I looked up just in time to see Camille and her sidekick Mandy turn the corner. I practically dove behind a tall wall of denim, pressing my back against the jeans so that they wouldn’t see me. My luck being what it was, Mandy stopped and began sorting through the very pile I had just been
perusing. Camille sat down on the display ledge, looking vacantly out at the juniors department.
“Camille,” moaned Mandy, “you’ve got to get over it.” I wondered what the it was that she was referring to. I didn’t have to speculate for long, “I mean, I don’t understand why you sleep with him anyway. Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” I felt my stomach sink and instant nausea rise to my throat.
“It’s not like it’s ever been much of a choice with Levi. Anyway he comes around more now than he did before he had her,” Camille’s voice was weak and resigned.
“She’s probably not putting out,” Mandy guessed with a giggle on the edge of her voice.
“That won’t last long,” Camille sounded almost sad, “I feel sorry for her. Remember how in love I was with Levi before I knew. I kinda feel guilty. Like I should make her understand before it’s too late.” I could feel my head spinning. What was she talking about? Too late for what?
“You tried to warn her,” Mandy pointed out, obviously not taking Camille’s remorse seriously.
“Not well enough,” Camille said standing up and leaving the store without another word. Mandy looked at the shorts for a couple more minutes before meandering after her.
I stood completely still for as long as I could until the nausea over took me. I dashed to the bathroom and threw up my Chinese food lunch special into the sink. Looking at my face in the mirror, I notice the sickly shade of green my face had become. Why wasn’t I crying? Maybe this situation was beyond tears. I had just overheard a conversation that not only implicated my boyfriend in cheating on me, but worse. I couldn’t be sure, but it had definitely sounded like Levi had forced Camille to have sex with him. I remembered the night that had almost happened to me, how I had felt when he pinned me to my bed and forced my pants down around my knees. My head began pounding and I found myself throwing up for a second time.
