The Spectacular Now

by Tim Tharp

  I have to withdraw everything I ever said about this girl not being hot. Without her goofy horse-face T-shirts and the off-brand, baggy-butt jeans, her body is absolutely fabulous. I’m not talking about gaudy curves. It’s more that her skin is so pristine. Alabaster in the glow of the digital clock.

  “Nudity,” I tell her, “looks awesome on you.”

  She’s not bashful about where she puts her hands, so neither am I. We’re chugging full speed ahead when all of a sudden, she sits up and says, “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a second.”

  I’m like, Crap! Did she freak out after getting me to the point of no return? But then she skips back into the room and hops into bed with a condom from her mother’s nightstand.

  “Just to be on the safe side,” she says. The girl’s thought of everything.

  Cassidy always liked to be on top, and it’s splendid that way, but with Aimee, I figure the old-fashioned method will be best. We can get fancy some other time. Right now, I just need to help her through. I figure it’s probably even for the best that we’re doing it. She can get some experience with a guy that only really has her best interests at heart. No worries. All positives.

  In the middle of it, I look down at her face. Her expression is sublime, her eyes closed and her lips moving slightly with the little peeps that squeeze out of her. She looks like a saint at prayer. Suddenly, I feel all the layers that have grown over my own purity stripping away. The faster we go, the more layers burn away, until magic time hits, and there’s nothing left but the original me, as pristine as her body, shining and glorious.

  Chapter 46

  We lie there silently for a long time, and I stroke her hair until finally she’s like, “You’re incredible. It was like we were just one soul joined together.”

  I kiss her forehead and go, “Thanks. I guess it’s pretty easy to seem incredible to someone on their first time.”

  She doesn’t say anything back to that, and I’m like, “This was your first time, right?”

  No answer.

  “Aimee?”

  Finally, she’s like, “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean? I thought you told me you never had a boyfriend.”

  Again, she hesitates, her eyes closed, her chin tucked down. It’s bizarre—this weird, negative electricity buzzes through my stomach as I wait for her answer. It’s like I’m actually afraid of what she’s getting ready to say.

  “I don’t want you to hate me.”

  I kiss her forehead. “That’s never going to happen. You’re unhatable.”

  “You promise?”

  “Cross my heart and swear on a stack of Supreme Beings.”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am. I promise I won’t hate you.”

  She lets out a hard sigh. “It’s just something that happened,” she says. “I mean, I didn’t plan it.”

  “Hey, I understand. I hardly plan anything.”

  “The thing is, I was fourteen, and you know, I didn’t know anything about being with boys, and Randy’s son was over spending the night.”

  “Jesus, Randy-the-Walrus’s son?”

  “Yeah,” she says in a small apologetic voice. “Mom made up the couch for him to sleep on, but sometime after everyone else was in bed, he came back to my room and asked if he could sleep with me. He said the couch was too small and it was hurting his back.”

  “God, what a line of bullshit.”

  “And I thought it would be okay. I mean, we were practically related in a way. So he gets in under the covers and slides right up against me. And he’s like telling me how comfortable my bed is and how warm my body is, and then he starts telling me how he was watching me all through dinner and liked the way I ate.”

  “He said he liked the way you ate?”

  “Yeah. And I was just lying there flat on my back and he put his hand on my stomach and started kind of nuzzling his nose against my hair and telling me how pretty I was. I just shut my eyes and tried to slow down my heart from beating so fast, but I couldn’t. I hadn’t really had anyone be interested in me before, and he seemed like he really was.”

  “I’m sure he was.”

  Her face squinches up. “No, he wasn’t. Maybe just for that one thing, but not for me. I should’ve known better. I mean, what twenty-year-old guy’s really going to be interested in a fourteen-year-old?”

  “Damn! Are you kidding me? He was twenty? What a perv.”

  “Well, but the thing was, I felt like here’s this older guy and he sees something in me none of the guys at school see. That nobody anywhere sees. He’s, like, even telling me he loves me, and I hadn’t heard that since my dad, and so I just felt so special. It was like I was Sleeping Beauty waking up from his kisses. But I didn’t really know what to do, so I just lay there and let him do it, and I started crying and he put his hand over my mouth. And then, when it was over, he went back to the couch, and later at breakfast, he wouldn’t look at me. He’s never come back since. I think he lives in Colorado now.”

  “That dude is the king of the creeps. I can’t believe your mother stayed with Randy after that crap.”

  “I never told her about it.”

  “What? You should have. That’s statutory rape.”

  “I never told anyone. Till now.”

  “Not even Krystal Krittenbrink?”

  “Just you.”

  We both lie there quietly. It’s hard to think of something to say after that. After a while, I feel her tears on my shoulder.

  “Don’t cry,” I tell her.

  “You must think I’m terrible,” she says.

  “I don’t think you’re terrible. Why would you say that?”

  “You can’t even talk to me now.”

  I pet her hair. “I’m just thinking. There’s something I haven’t told you about me either, something I’ve never told anyone else. But you have to promise you won’t hate me just like I promised you.”

  She promises.

  “You know how I told you my dad works at the top of the Chase building?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I was lying. I’ve been lying about that to everybody since I was in grade school. Even to Ricky. The truth is I don’t even know where my dad is. After my mom kicked him out, he just disappeared. So I started pretending he was a big-shot executive. I pretended it so hard I almost started believing it myself, so maybe it’s only kind of a semi-lie.”

  “You never heard from him again?”

  “I think I got one birthday card from him a long time ago. But basically my mom threw him away, and now she’d like to throw me away. But that’s how the world is, you know. Everything’s disposable.”

  She wraps her arm around my waist and lays her head on my chest. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll never throw you away.”

  Chapter 47

  Girls have the wrong idea about how guys are with their buddies. It’s like they think all we do is talk about sports and porn, tell dirty jokes, and brag about our sexploits. Or lie about them. And, okay, a certain amount of that does go on, but if you have a best friend, you can go further. You can unlock all the rooms. Well, except one. I can’t tell anyone the story of Aimee and Randy-the-Walrus’s son.

  But believe me, when I tell Ricky about having sex with Aimee, I’m not bragging. Bragging’s only for guys who never get it steady anyway. It’s disappointing, though, because Ricky doesn’t get me the way he usually does. He’s all like, “Dude, I thought you said you weren’t going there with this girl. I thought you were keeping this deal on the surface level. Now you’re boinking her?”

  “It’s not like that,” I tell him. “It’s not a boink.”

  “Really? Well, I’ll tell you what it sounds like to me. It’s like you’re one of these con-artist dudes who goes around preying on the feeble. You know, those guys who promise to put a new roof on some 102-year-old blind lady’s house, and then they skip off with the money. Same thing with you. You filch a little sugar off this girl and next th
ing you know, you’ll be in the breeze. That’s not good, dude.”

  I tell him that’s not how this was. I explain the whole purity deal and how she looked like a saint at prayer, and he’s like, “Sure, sure. That’s just what you want to believe she looked like. You’re just pretending so you can believe it was all pure and innocent.”

  “So what? Who doesn’t need a little purity in their lives? I mean, that’s what I’m saying. It was a soul thing.”

  “That’s right,” he says. “Reverend Sutter Keely, the man who can save everybody’s soul but his own.”

  “Whatever, dude.” I’m starting to wonder if the reason he can’t understand is because he still hasn’t done the deed with Bethany. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s probably still in the hand-holding-on-the-couch stage. Which is pretty lame if you ask me. Look, if you have to go to church with a girl Sunday morning, you sure better be going to bed with her Saturday night.

  What really surprises me, though, is Cassidy’s take on the whole thing. There we are, having our Thursday drinks on a spectacular afternoon—Marcus and Aimee seem to be cool with us and our friendly get-togethers now, or at least that’s what they say—and I try out my purity theory on her. I was afraid she’d fillet me for taking advantage of Aimee, but it’s pretty much the opposite. Instead, she’s like, “You know, I admire you for going out with Aimee.”

  “Admire? That’s an odd word for it.”

  “No, what I mean is, at first I thought it was just some kind of strange rebound thing, but now I can see it. I had French with her last year. She’s shy and everything, but she’s deep. I guess I was just kind of surprised that you saw that in her, but the more I think about it the more sense it makes. I think you’re a good fit.”

  “What do you mean, she’s deep but you didn’t think I’d see that. You didn’t think I could be deep?”

  “No, you know that’s not it. I just thought maybe you wouldn’t see it in a girl that went around in a coat that looks like a big purple Christmas ornament.”

  “Hey, that coat’s in the back of the closet now.”

  “Well, you know what I mean. A girl who’s a little subtle in the looks department.”

  Now, maybe she doesn’t mean anything negative with the “subtle” remark, but for some reason it makes me feel a kind of duty to Aimee, and the next thing I know I’m defending her alabaster-in-the-digital-clock-glow body.

  Cassidy looks off across the backyard like all of a sudden the birdbath has become worth studying. “Well, good,” she says, though I get the idea she’s no more eager to hear about my sex life with Aimee than I am to hear about hers with Marcus. “The thing is, I’m glad you two are together. She’ll be good for you.”

  What’s the deal with people thinking I need some kind of good influence in my life?

  “Who knows?” She shoots me her sly smile. “Maybe you’ll amount to something after all.”

  “Hey.” I slip her a wink. “I’m already something. I’m an absolutely miraculous marvel.”

  She laughs.

  It’s weird. Our relationship is doing this surreal metamorphosis right in front of my eyes. The old feelings for each other aren’t completely gone, but they seem to be slipping further and further away. That’s okay, I tell myself. I’m with Aimee for now. Cassidy’s just another ex-girlfriend. All right, maybe she’s really more like some kind of new, mutant, never-seen-before type of friend, but she is just a friend.

  That’s good, I tell myself. It’s really, really a good fit. We can talk about anything, and there aren’t all the little booby traps to avoid like when you’re boyfriend and girlfriend. Yes, I tell myself, this will work out great.

  But somehow after leaving her house that afternoon, I’m hit with this big fat urge to get gloriously, panoramically ripped.

  Chapter 48

  So, the prom’s barreling straight my way at full speed, out of control with the high beams on. No worries, though. I have a plan. I envision a perfect replica of a Dean Martin tuxedo and a long white limo. Of course, I’ll need someone to chip in on the limo, so I go straight to Ricky.

  “Sorry, dude,” he says. “No can do. Bethany’s already made arrangements for us to split a limo with Tara and Brian Roush.”

  “Roush? You’re splitting a limo with Roush?”

  “Yeah, he asked Tara to the prom, and you know how tight Bethany and Tara are. See, that could’ve been you riding high and tight in our limo if you’d started dating Tara like I told you to.”

  “Well, still, if we get a stretch limo, I’m sure three couples can fit in there, easy.”

  He grimaces.

  “What?”

  “Yeah, um, it’s just that you aren’t exactly Bethany’s favorite guy.”

  “Me? What’s she got against me? I thought you just said I’d be in your limo if I was dating Tara.”

  “That’s right. If you were dating Tara. As it is, I think she’s afraid you might be a little, um, too wild for her taste.”

  “Wild? I’m not wild. I’m fun.”

  “Okay. Then I guess she thinks you’re a little too fun for her taste.”

  That’s that. No limo with Ricky. What happened to loyalty in this world? After all, who got Ricky and Bethany together in the first place?

  Not being one to give up easily, I hit Cody Dennis with the idea, but of course, he’s too scared to even ask a girl to the prom. In fact, he’s too scared to have me ask a girl to the prom for him.

  Then I come up with a truly fabulous solution. Why not finally cash in on the idea of a double date with Cassidy and Marcus? They probably need a little spark of fun in their evening. This requires a delicate touch, though. Sure, Marcus is okay with Cassidy and me hanging out as friends now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be so gung ho about me tagging along to the prom with them. No, the way to show them the beauty of the proposition is to first pitch the simple idea of a double date to the movies. Once they see how much fun we are as a foursome, the prom date will be a cinch.

  Cassidy thinks it’s a stroke of genius, and Marcus goes along with her, but you can tell he’s not exactly a tsunami of enthusiasm. So that Saturday, off we go to a restaurant and then to see Lovestruck Fool at the cineplex in Bricktown. To me, everything goes super-stupendously, except maybe for after the movie when Aimee accidentally drops the vodka bottle out of her purse and it shatters on the foyer floor. That kind of thing is simply funny to me, but not everybody has the same fully developed sense of humor. Marcus actually looks askance at us. That’s right, askance.

  So, the next day I call Cassidy—she’s on her cell while delivering meals to elderly shut-ins with Marcus—and I pitch her the prom scheme, only to find out they already have plans to rent a limo with some of his buddies and their dates.

  I’m like, “But we had so much fun at the movies. We’re a stellar foursome.”

  And she’s, “I’m sorry but our plans are all set. I mean, what did you expect, Sutter? The prom’s this weekend. Everyone already has plans. You probably can’t even get a limo by now.”

  “Well, I guess that means I should probably go order my tux tomorrow.”

  “What? You haven’t even ordered your tux?”

  “Hey, I was thinking about waiting till the day of the prom.”

  “Sutter, you’d better not mess up this prom for Aimee. This is a big deal for a girl.”

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her, all nonchalant. “Everything’s cool. The stars are in perfect alignment for a fantabulous time. All I have to do is let things fall into place.”

  Chapter 49

  Things do fall into place. Mostly. There’s absolutely no problem in finding the perfect Dean Martin tux. The cost of renting a limo by myself is way too steep, but so what if I have to take my own car? Do you think I’d ask Geech to borrow his Cadillac? Not in a million years. No, the Mitsubishi will do just fine.

  There’s just one thing left—Aimee has to figure out a way to get out of throwing the paper route the morning after the
prom. She asks me to be there with her when she confronts her mom, but I’m like, “No way. This is something you have to do on your own. You have to stand up to her. How else do you think you’re ever going to break away from her and go to school in St. Louis?”

  To tell the truth, I don’t know how she’s handled the paper route this long. We’ve partied pretty hard, and still she gets up in the morning to throw that route. I really intended to go with her more often than that one time when I spent the night at her house, but I kept forgetting to set the alarm, which could happen to anybody. You can’t blame me for that.

  Anyway, finally, just a few days before the prom she comes over to my house after school, all excited. She did it. She laid things on the line with her mom.

  “I just told her this was my prom, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I wasn’t going to wreck it by throwing that old paper route.”

  “I’m proud of you!”

  “I’m proud of myself!”

  She jumps into my arms, and to celebrate, we take the pitcher of martinis I just made and head straight up to bed. It’s not till after the congratulatory sex, when we’re lying there with our martini glasses, that she runs through the whole story for me, how she walked right over, turned off the TV, and mapped out the entire plan before her mom or Randy could open their mouths. She didn’t raise her voice or even get emotional. She just told it like it was.

  When her mom tried to come with this line about how she and Randy might want to hit the casinos that night, Aimee had the facts ready. She’d delivered the route by herself over thirty times in the last year, while never getting a single day off herself. Therefore, she was going to take one off now and she was going to take one off for graduation, and there weren’t any two ways about it.

  Of course, she didn’t exactly tell her mother about how we planned to get a motel room. Instead, she explained that the school was sponsoring all these heavily chaperoned after-prom events that lasted till sunup. Which is true, but only the mortally clueless actually go to those. Not to say I haven’t taken a wait-and-see attitude toward the laser tag thing. That would be absolutely hilarious to go to wasted.