Cupcake (11 page)

Sigh. Missing the Ocean Beach castles-in-the-cold-sand that Shrimp used to build me on lame waves, wanna-be-architect days.

Johnny said, "The first major accomplishment of my life was building the entire Death Star out of LEGOs. I was seven. That shit affects you, dude. Inspires you to want to keep building, I guess."

117

"Clarify. Makes you want to keep building fortresses of doom, or keep building ... buildings generally?"

"Either/or. So long as the building doesn't get in the way of band practice."

"Good luck with that."

I might not need good luck wishes with this new job. It feels blessed already.

118

***

NINETEEN

I finally had to come out of the closet to somebody in my family,
so I chose my dad.

"It's like this," I told Sid-dad over the phone. "I feel like culinary school was everybody else's dream for me, but I don't want that kind of structure in my life right now. I'm not saying later I might not want to go, but right now? No. I lasted one class."

"Cupcake," he responded, "it's your life to live as you choose. You're right, I think culinary school would have provided a good structure for your transition to living on your own, but you're also right that if it's not what you want to do, you shouldn't be doing it. That does leave a remaining question, however: What
are
you doing?"

What I am doing, Dad, is wondering what Shrimp is doing this very second. Is he staring at the moon in the New Zealand sky, wondering

119

if I am watching it too, even with the time difference and probably it's the wrong time of day here to find it in the same place in the sky, but whatever, you get the point. What I am doing is planning to distract myself with Luis for a while and hope that heals the hurt of letting Shrimp go. I know you and Mom thought I was too young to be in a committed relationship, and you know L am proud to be an independent female and all that, but I totally think I would be handling this giantropolis transition better if Shrimp and I were sharing this new New York life together.

"I got a barista-waitress job at a place down the street from our apartment," I told Sid-dad. "I hope you're not disappointed."

At the moment that the urgent need had come upon me to call my father and then tell his secretary to interrupt his business meeting because I couldn't wait another minute to talk with him, what I was doing was sitting on a bench in a small park in the West Village near the obnoxiously popular cupcake bakery. Spying. The bakery is unfathomably one of the most fashionable places to see and be seen in the city--at least based on the line of customers out the door and down the street. The line confounded me because (1) the cupcakes from that place are not that tasty, and I should know, because I've tried them all, and (2) the attitude from the wait staff is ridiculous--you'd think they were selling Tiffany tiaras and Rolls-Royce cars and not tiny round pieces of cake with frosting gobbed on top. If I hadn't made it my new mission to avoid Danny

120

and his rules, I would so take him up on the offer to go work with him part-time instead of taking on the LU_CH_ONE_TE gig. Danny and I could expand his cupcake business beyond selling to small retail outlets and into our own empire.

"Why would I be disappointed?" Sid-dad asked.

"Because I'm not some go-getter who's all perky and like 'I'm going to get a job in the mail room at some superfantastic corporation and work my way up to the top, no matter how long it takes, gosh darnit!'"

He laughed. "I'm just happy you're working. And I think you might be more of a go-getter than you yourself realize. You just need to do it on your own timetable. Will this new job allow you the time off work to come home for Christmas? We've got the baby's room set up for its impending arrival in December, and Ash and Josh can't wait to see you ..."

"I still haven't changed my mind that Ash can't have my bedroom." I have no intention of moving back home to San Francisco, but that doesn't mean I don't want the option to remain available to me. Just in case.

"Noted," Sid-dad said. "Just don't come home and expect to find your childhood Barbie collection in the pristine condition in which you left it in the box at the top of your closet. There may have been a massacre when Ash was denied the room change. Let's

121

just say certain doll parts were roughed up, and clothes violated, and leave it at that."

Good ol' Ash. Bless her heart and her macabre Barbie fixation. I miss home.

When Autumn arrived for our regular park-sitting during her ditching of her Lit Hum class (and I still don't know what "Lit Hum" means, but I am imagining pornographic poses amongst philosophizing old white guys who like to hum together while they bang each other in that fine ancient Greek tradition), she asked, "Why are we here instead of Central Park?"

I pointed to the cupcake eaters on the bench opposite us. "I hate those people. They need to be destroyed."

"The cupcake eaters or the cupcake makers?"

"Makers. And also, I've decided Central Park is too far to go. Aaron said I would turn into one of those New Yorkers who does not like to go beyond a ten-block radius of my apartment, and it turns out he's right. Besides, don't you agree the rainbow mecca of Greenwich Village is way cooler than Central Park?"

"You're just being lazy and you know it. But I don't mind the travel because the farther away from that college campus I go, the happier I am. So listen. I have to come out to you about something."

"You're straight? Is it because you never got over when you

122

were in fourth grade and wanted to marry Justin Timberlake?"

Autumn shoved my side. "Get over yourself. I wanted to marry Kylie Minogue. No, what I have to come out about is that I made a big decision after midterms, but I've been holding off on telling you because I wanted the idea to settle and feel right. And now it does. I'm not coming back to New York after final exams."

"No way."

"Way. I talked it out with my dad, and he supports me. I'm going to go back home to San Francisco, work and take some courses at City College next semester, then hope to transfer to Berkeley in the fall. They accepted me last year, so hopefully they will again this year. Then I can stay living at home, but afford to go to college. And afford not to be so stressed all the time that I can't concentrate on school."

I let out a major Nancy-level sigh. But I placed my arm around Autumn's shoulder and pulled her tight. She rested her head on my shoulder. "You're not mad at me?" she asked.

"Of course I'm not mad at you. I'm bummed, but I'm not mad at you. I mean, look what happened to me just from your absence at Danny's Halloween party? Drunken escapade leading to pregnancy scare and a Frigidaire situation with my brother, soon followed by my first attempt at making a new girlfriend landing with a giant THUD. But I think you made the right decision for you, and I kinda admire you for having the guts to admit that the life

123

you thought you wanted is in fact not how you want to be living, for cutting your losses to pick up and start all over again. I think Berkeley will be great for you. But how will I survive with your permanent absence?"

"Just fine," she said.

124

***

TWENTY

Luis and I had different ideas about where to drop some beat on
a Saturday night. He wanted to go to his favorite hip-hop meets salsa club up in Harlem, and I wanted to go to an emo punk meets disco funk club in the East Village. We settled on driving to a park in Weehawken, New Jersey, just on the other side of the Lincoln Tunnel, where we made out in the backseat of the fancy sedan he drives for a local car service. The car window views facing the panoramic vista over the Hudson River, with the Manhattan skyline twinkling bright and spectacular in the night sky, had been inspiring before the languor of our kissing inspired the windows to go all steamy.

His long, hard body rested on top of mine--still fully clothed--but Luis broke our lip-locking interlude to come up for air. He informed me, "I hang out here sometimes while waiting to

125

pick up fares from Newark Airport. Did you know this park was where Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr had their famous duel?" Ah, Luis was a great kisser, and a history buff, too. I love smart boys. Although, if Luis ever revealed himself to me as one of those Civil War reenactor history buffs, our lust situation would definitely dead-end.

"Did you know you've New Jersey devirginized me?" I asked Luis, pulling him back down to me. This night was not my first time with Luis, but it was this Golden State girl's first time on Garden State soil. Visiting it, that is.

I pressed my groin area against Luis, wanting to feel the weight and friction of him rubbed hard on my body. But he wouldn't have it. Instead he rolled off me again and sat up and away from me, resting his head against the window, smearing clear a fresh view of the Manhattan skyline. Hey now, lovely view indeed.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

Luis said, "If you really don't want this to go further now, then you've got to stop grinding against me like that. There. It gets me all bothered."

"You were the one who said you'd bring the condom."

"You were the one who said you were going back on the pill."

"I did. But I should give it time to kick in, just to be on the safe side. Like we weren't on Halloween, you know? Because I am not taking that risk again. The fun is not worth the hangover."

126

I sat up and snuggled up against him. Snuggling could work.

Luis pressed the button to open the window to allow some cold air inside the car. "Burr-ito," I said. Right phrase, wrong boy.

"It'll have to do in place of a cold shower."

I placed my hand on his inner thigh. "There are other ways ..."

He placed my hand back on my own lap. "Nah, not like that, not here," Luis said. Then, "What are we, anyway? Are we gonna go out officially, or are we gonna be just friends?"

If you have to qualify your status as "just" friends, you are not
just
friends. Scientifically impossible.

"How about we're just friends with benefits who go out occasionally but not officially, as in bring each other home to meet the fam?"

"Why, you embarrassed of me?"

Was he kidding? Who would be embarrassed to be seen with him?

"No," I said. "I'm embarrassed of
them."
Embarrassed that Danny felt the need to text message my make-out session:
B home by midnite or b sure 2 call me.

I might as well go back to San Francisco with Autumn for all that my new home life is starting to resemble my old Alcatraz one: hostile, and with curfew threats.

127

***

TWENTY-ONE

Shake it off.

This is what I try to do when Danny asks me, "Where are you going?" in the late mornings.

"Job hunting," I tell him.
And don't ask me one more time if I want to come to your rented kitchen space to bake stupid cupcakes with you. I don't. And I know you know I never followed through with culinary school, so why don't you yell at me about that, too, get it over with. Or maybe you'd like to impose some new rule, like Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Brother's Baking Ability If Thou Is Not Willing to Put in the Time to Learn It Thyself And by the way, Danny boy, I already have a job, but telling you about it would force me to engage you in conversation more than our fragile relationship can tolerate right now.

"What time ya gonna be back?"

128

"I'll be sure to call you and let you know." Under my breath I mutter, "Commandant."

The Danny not-love is in full swing.
Shake shake shake, shake yo' hatin' booty.

I don't care for this brother who abandons his perfectly wonderful true love then tries to tell his younger sister how to behave. I'm beginning to loathe this roommate who leaves his smelly socks on the bathroom floor, who watches old eighties soaps on the soap classics cable channel and cackles worse than that big-haired, big-shouldered lady from
Dynasty
at all the campy dialogue (which, admittedly, I enjoyed doing with him during the leg castage time, before the hating thing started), and who sings at the stove while he prepares his daily morning ritual soft-boiled egg--the mere smell of which can now turn me mental with irritation.

And I have serious issues with this hypocrite who somehow thinks it's okay for him to occasionally have casual fling-boy Jerry Lewis spend the night, even if Jerry works on Wall Street and is gone from the apartment long before I wake up so it's not like I have to interact with him; yet somehow it's not okay for me to have casual fling-boy Luis stay over at our apartment, allegedly because Danny is uncomfortable with the fact that Luis used to work for bio-dad Frank, but really because Danny doesn't want to fill in the blanks of my lies of omission in the telephone calls with Sid and Nancy.
Folks, CC's doing just great. Got it all under control here. The

129

Little Hellion's fooling around with the dude that Frank hired to drive her around two summers ago, but she's back on the pill, and I saw the box of condoms under her bed, so no worries! Nah, I don't think this is a serious relationship. It's just sex and good times, which seems to be fine with both Luis and CC. You know kids today, don't like to be tied down, unless we're talking about those play handcuffs I found under her bed. Hah, hah, KIDDING! Don't you worry, I've got the Little Hellion contained with rules. Boundaries, just as you advised. What was that? Why, yes, Nancy, I'd love a copy of your grandmother's Minnesouda county fair award-winning maple walnut fudge recipe. Toodles!

Some mornings Danny offers me a hopeful smile and says, "I'll be at the kitchen space if you want to stop by and have lunch with me ..." and I almost forgive him, because I know he thinks he means well, and he has almost the same face as me, only sweeter and like a boy and with more normal hair. Instead I head out the door and tell him, "Sorry. I've got plans. Thanks anyway. See you later."