Crazy Horse's Girlfriend (9781940430447) (18 page)

“I know. I don't know why I did that. I know better. I know so much better. It's my fault.”

“It's his fault too.”

“I know.”

I started to feel a little bit better. It was reaching towards lunchtime and I knew I had to put in an appearance upstairs.

“You gonna stay down here? I could bring you lunch.”

Jake smiled. “Gotta go do some biiiidness.”

“OK, you do that. I'm going to make the appointment. At the hospital a really cool doctor there gave me a card and a name.”

Jake nodded, hugged me and squeezed out the window, which was always an amazing thing to watch. Fucker was lucky he was skinny, otherwise it would never happen. He knew if he was fighting with his parents, it'd take around two fucking seconds for that to get back to my mom via the mocca-sin telegraph.

I sighed and pulled the card out of the drawer of my end table. Looked at its faded letters in my hand. I pulled the telephone onto my lap and picked the receiver up and put it back down again. It was Sunday. They were probably not open anyway. And I was hungry. I wanted to go upstairs and eat a sandwich and hang out with my mother and the twins and watch TV and forget about all of this.

That night, around 10:00 the phone rang. Mom picked it up. She was in the kitchen grading, Dad was in his office. Mom yelled that it was for me, and I walked downstairs and picked up. I knew who it was before I heard his voice.

“Have you thought about this?” Mike asked, sounding wound up.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Mike, I told you. I can't have a baby. I'm sixteen. We can't have a baby.”

There was silence on the other end. And then in the distance, “Mike, who are you talking to this late?”

“My girlfriend!”

“Your what? When did you get a girlfriend?” The voice was closer now.

“Mike, don't—” I said.

“Mom, I need to talk to her. Let me alone for a goddamn second, would you?”

“How dare you use that language with me!” Then footsteps and scrambling.

“Mom! Don't you hang the phone up! No!” And then more scrambling. The last thing I heard before the dial tone was Mike yelling, “Margaritte I will never forgive you if you do this! Don't you do—”

I looked at the receiver. I put my head in my hands. In the past, I would call Julia and whine my head off. And I knew she had been through this, and that what she had gone through had been much, much worse. But her strangeness with Mike made it seem too weird. I knew that all I really had was Jake. I looked down at my stomach and flopped on my bed. I closed my eyes.

The next week was hell. School was hell. Mike kept cornering me whenever he could, crying and begging, and then when that didn't work, he'd yell at me to not have an abortion. I told him I didn't want to talk about it at school, where people could hear, but he didn't care. He called me at home. Finally, Jake picked up for me.

“This Mike?” I watched him, his head nodding slightly at whatever Mike was saying. “Uh-huh. Well, she can't come to the phone right now.” I put my hands over my eyes. “Oh, really? Well, you know what? You two are sixteen. And this isn't going to happen, buddy. Get that through your fucking head! Your fucking head which I will rip off and shit down if you don't leave her alone about this!” At this, he slammed the phone down.

That's when Mike stopped calling.

 

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8

 

“So, what's the plan for tonight? It's Friday. We survived another week in this town. Therefore, we deserve a little party-poo,” Jake was saying. I had gone downstairs after dinner to find him sitting on the futon, his long, dark body sprawled out, McDonald's wrappers on the old coffee table in front of him. He was finishing a burger and fries.

“Want one?” he asked, holding the sleeve of fries out.

“Nah, I just had dinner.” I sat down on the bed. “We have to have a plan?”

“Margaritte, you know I always have a plan.”

I laughed. “OK, so what's your fantastic plan.”

“Well, by plan, I mean party.”

“Oh, God, I don't know,” I said, putting my hands in my hair and looking at the old, beat up basement floor. There was something so cold and depressing about the painted concrete under my sneaks.

“Margaritte, you need some fun. Some distraction.”

“Normally by that you'd mean booze.”

“Well, yes. No. But… well. When's your appointment?”

“In a few weeks,” I said.

Jake looked at me, his face radiating pity. “Has he called again?”

“No.”

“OK, now I know you need a drink. That is, if you were drinking. Why aren't you drinking?”

“I can't explain it, but it just seems wrong. Creepy. I'm sure I will… after. But I'll go to the party if you really want me to. I could even call the moron twins up to see if they wanted to join us. Julia got a little pissy with me when I was with Mike, but I'm sure she's heard that we're not together anymore. I mean fuck, I've been trying to call her for weeks, but the foster kiddies always tell me that she's out and about.”

Jake handed me the phone. I dialed and asked for Julia at her house, but the kid who answered told me she wasn't there. I looked at Jake and shrugged. I tried Treena's number but her mother, her voice heavy with years of cigarette smoking, told me she wasn't there either. That they had gone out together. I thanked her and hung the phone up. It was an old, red rotary style that had been in my parent's bedroom for years.

“Both of them aren't home. So, maybe they'll be at the party.”

“I doubt it. This crowd is older,” Jake said.

A few hours later, we were sneaking out the window. We started my car and pulled out of the driveway with the headlights off. The town went by in a near blur, and I felt pretty happy to be getting away from the house. Away from myself. I rolled the window down and let the smell of the green, wet season in. I turned the radio up and found that I still had one of Mike's mixtapes in the deck. One that he had made for me after the first time we'd been together. My throat tightened and I thought about ejecting the tape but I stayed my hand. I let the heavy, staticky, painful music into me and thought of Mike. His hands on me, his eyes closed, listening to the thrum of my heart as it sped up in response to his body. I had to feel this pain, I had to know it like I'd known him or I would never get through it, know what the fuck to do with myself after all of this was over. I looked over at Jake and he took his eyes off the road briefly, sensing my gaze. He smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just happy to have you here and out of juvie and driving my car again.”

“Me too.”

We pulled into a side street, which led up sharply and quickly became dirt. The houses whipped by, and the smell of the night air became more specific. It was of pines, a lovely tangy smell. After about fifteen minutes we pulled into a short drive, parked in front of an old, pea-green house behind a bunch of other cars and a few bikes, the noise of the party already hitting us as soon as the sound of the car's engine died. A few people were outside, standing around a keg.

“This is new,” I said.

“Yeah, I did a little business with them a week ago, and they seemed like cool guys and they asked me if I wanted to party with them.”

I nodded. The wind picked up and I shivered, pulled my hoodie tighter. “It's colder than I thought.”

We walked up and over to the keg. Jake pumped two and handed me one out of habit. I held it though, so that no one would think anything.

“Boy, I don't recognize anyone,” I said, looking around. The handful of people outside really were a good amount older than Jake and me. A silver mullet crowd.

Jake looked around and took a drink from his beer. “That's why I proposed this. There really isn't a way to get away here, and half of these people are still probably related to the people we go to school with, but at least they're a little older and we don't have to mess with the usual drama.”

“Yeah.” I said. “Want to go inside?”

Jake shrugged. “Sure.”

The old rusty screen door slammed shut behind us. The party was fairly low-key, music floating through the air from an old stereo system in the corner, though there were a couple of people doing coke at the kitchen table.

I tapped Jake on the shoulder. “Check it out. We've picked an upscale crew to hang with here. Coke, not crack.”

Jake laughed. “It's always class with me.”

“You so deliver. Class, that is.”

“Class you can snort up your nose.”

“God,” I said, “speaking of class, where's the hard alcohol in case I decide to drink, even though I'm currently in the family way?”

Jake patted the pocket of his old black jeans. “Oh, I brought flasky. Don't you worry your crazy little head. I got us covered.”

A couple of the dudes doing coke at the old, white kitchen table elbowed each other and got up. They walked over to us.

“Jake. My man.”

“Hey.”

“So, who's this?”

“This is my cousin, Margaritte.”

“Hey cousin Margaritte.” I looked up at him and smiled. His teeth were terrifying. Rotted to hell. I looked over at the other guy and he was nodding without speaking. Both of them smelled pretty ripe.

“This your house?”

“Yeah. It was my mom's, but she's dead.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. She was a bitch. The best thing she did was die.”

“Well there's that,” I said. “Hey, least you got a house though, am I right?”

“Damn right!” He said, giving his friend five. “Do you want some coke?”

“No thanks, I'm all coked out.”

He looked at me suspiciously, and cocked his head.

Jake looked over at him and then said, “My cousin's just joking around. We like pot.”

“Me too, dude.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, obviously,” he said lamely. “So, speaking of that, I'm gonna need something to help me come down at the end of the night. You got any doobage for sale?”

“Of course.”

Jake pulled a dime bag out and the guy handed him some money.

“Thanks man.”

“Sure,” Jake said, and he walked back over to the table he'd been sitting at when we came in.

“They're cool guys?” I said, looking at Jake incredulously. They looked anything but cool. They looked fucked up.

“They're OK.”

“Yeah. Did you see homeboy's teeth?”

“Stop complaining, start drinking,” Jake said and handed me the flask. We had picked it up at the thrift store a year ago. It was an old silver flask, and it was tarnished on the outside. I looked at the flask and felt a sharp spike of rebellion. What was I not drinking for anyway? I wasn't going to do this. I drank, feeling the rough, tarnished spots of the flask on my fingertips and then handed it back to Jake. He had been watching me the whole time I'd drank. I'd set my beer down as we'd come in and Jake had shaken his head.

“That's my cousin!” Jake said, whooping me and hitting me on the back hard enough to make me stumble forward.

“Jake, watch it!” I said, feeling sick.

I walked over to the couch at the other end of the living room and dropped my hoodie on it. TuPac's “California” came on and people began to move a little to the music. I joined them and let the small drink of whisky I'd taken get into me, through me. I closed my eyes. I felt a little nauseated, but the music was good. It was taking me somewhere, the base thumping in my stomach. My limbs felt fluid and the music was entering me the way the whisky was. More hip-hop came on, Biggie, Snoop; this crowd was into it. I felt Jake tapping my arm urgently. I stopped dancing and turned to him. He looked upset and took my elbow, leading me out of the group of dancers.

“Jake, what's going on?” I asked, but he was still trying to lead me further on. I dug my heels in and he stopped and turned around.

“I
—
I just wanted to tell you that I don't feel like being here anymore,” he said.

I stared at him, feeling confused and irritated. “Jake. What are you talking about? We just got here. And I'm actually having a good time. What? Did those guys do something extra creepy?”

“No. I'm just suddenly—kind of tired, I don't know… is it OK if we just go?” He looked like he was in a panic. I sighed and shook my head. “Sure. Whatever you want Jake. It's not like this is the goddamn Emmy's or anything. Let's go.”

“Great, great,” Jake said, grabbing my arm again and nearly dragging me towards the front door.

“Jake! Slow down and let go of my arm. What has gotten into you!”

“Nothing, nothing. I'm just ready to go.”

“Fine. Calm
—
wait a minute. I left my hoodie on the couch at the other end of the room. Hold on, let me—”

“No!” Jake said, forcibly turning me around. I'd turned away from him and was walking towards the couch.

“I'll get it for you!” He said, walking, in fact nearly running past me.

“Jake
—”
I said and watched him disappear. I stood and watched the crowd of tired, sweaty people move, and that's when I saw them. The crowd parted and I could see Jake picking my hoodie up from one end of the couch, Mike and Julia making out on the other. I felt sick. I couldn't believe that I hadn't seen them before. Had they seen me? I went through the crowd listening to the music and feeling sick. Jake had just picked my hoodie up and was on his way back to me when he saw that I'd spotted them. He slumped in defeat, the hand holding the hoodie nearly dropping it, but he quickly recovered and rushed over to me.

“Don't—” he said and I shot him a look. “OK, but I'm coming with you.”

It felt like my legs weren't even moving, as if I were moving through a net, but when I finally made my way over, they seemed to sense something was wrong, and at first Julia, then Mike looked up.

“Margaritte—” Julia said.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said. Her eyes moved to her hands.

“You are supposed to be my friend,” I said to Julia.

Julia continued to look down at her hands but Mike glanced up at me with that look in his eyes that I now knew meant he'd shoveled a bunch of coke up his nose.

Mike kept staring up at me. “Have you done it already?” At this, Julia looked up sharply.

“Done what?” she asked.

“How can you ask me that here? When you're with her?”

“Oh, you think I'm betraying you? Let's talk about betrayal!” Mike screamed. “Let's talk about how you're killing me!” He said, sliding off the couch and onto his knees. He buried his head in my legs and wept violently.

I began to cry. I put my hands on his head. He wrapped his arms around my legs, started murmuring, “No, Margaritte, please don't. Please tell me you haven't.”

“Don't you feel bad for him, “ Jake said. “This is your decision. What you need to do. He's not thinking.”

I tried to stop crying but I couldn't.

“What is going on here?” Julia asked, looking as if she'd stumbled into a horror show.

“I always respected you,” Jake said. “I always… ”

“Jake, please. I… ”

“Please what? How could you do this to me? I mean, to Margaritte? Over some fucking guy? What is wrong with you?”

“I'm sorry. It's just, he called. And, I thought, well if they broke up, he's not really with her anymore and… ”

“Does this look like they broke up?”

Julia looked over at us and I stared into her eyes.

“I'm pregnant,” I said. “And he wants me to have it. And I don't want to. And even if I wasn't, you've been after him from the beginning and I don't know why.” Her eyes widened in horror and she stared down at Mike and then staggered up and off the big, old red couch. She rubbed her forehead, her short, red nails like little harvest moons.

“I have to go,” she said, starting to walk away. Jake grabbed her roughly by the arm.