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Authors: Brendan; Halpin

Donorboy (17 page)

BOOK: Donorboy
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I think Karen would probably kidnap me and have me deprogrammed if I went out with some 19-year-old metal singer, not to mention Sean would embarrass me to death, all, “Oh, I like Metallica, but the lyrics are clumsy and I don't think the Lovecraft stuff works.” Jesus. What a dork.

Anyway it's not like we have to worry about this particular scenario because it's not like the guy noticed I existed at all with Kate there which who can blame him but whatever.

On the way home something funny happened where Kate said that she still really liked and cared about Jen, like I guess they've been friends since grade school, but now she was just worried about her and didn't really like who she hung out with, and I was like I bet Sasha is saying the exact same thing about me right now somewhere and that is some kind of irony but at least not cruel.

And that is all the interesting news from my day except Sean was like I really think your friend seems like a neat person when he picked me up, and I totally wanted to be like yeah well she boosted some tampons from the CVS on the way to the train station, but then I do actually want to get to hang out with her again, so I shut up.

ps.—five minutes later

Oh my God, I just had that day. I mean I am just sitting here typing to you Fluffy and I realize that I just had that day that Lisa said I would have where I didn't miss my moms all day long. I mean, I guess it's because I was busy or whatever, but wow. Wow. I am kind of trying to make myself feel sad or guilty about it, but I kind of can't and I don't care. There's always tomorrow.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Kate

Well, Rosalind survived the trip to Fitchburg unscathed, and I did actually meet the mysterious Kate. Overall, I got a good impression. I mean, yes, she is into metal and dresses in all black, but she seems like a good kid. She is a very talented artist, which I recognize is not a guarantee of being any kind of decent person, but it does at least seem that she has an outlet that she spends a great deal of time on, which would seem to preclude heavy drug use, shoplifting, murder, etc.

Overall, I feel very good about them hanging out together. Actually I liked her better than Sasha, who I admittedly saw at a point in time when she was not her best but who seemed kind of aggressively bland to me.

So that is the report. Did you hear anything?

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Kate

Sean—

Thank you for the update. I got very little about the concert. I expressed my concern about her immersion in the culture of negativity around that kind of music, and also the aggression and violence that goes with it. She didn't say much, but made some kind of unsophisticated argument about catharsis.

I hit such a brick wall the last time I asked a direct question about Kate that I decided to tiptoe around the subject, which got me exactly the same amount of information as the direct question. So much for subtlety. All I can say is that if this girl Kate is immersed in this negative, violent subculture, she is more than likely a victim of abuse. I feel for her, but I worry about her influence on Rosalind if she is acting out her reaction to abuse with this kind of self-annihilating, violent, anti-woman subculture.

I can see that she charmed you because she is “edgy,” but let's be mindful that that edge can cut both ways.

—Karen

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Kimberley

Okay, the joke's over. No, I mean, really. I got an e-mail from Kimberley asking for advice on housing and The Law, and all I can say is that if this is an elaborate prank, please call it off immediately, because I am running around like I am fifteen years old, my head filled with daydreams of varying erotic intensity. I mean, nobody is “really interested in public-interest law,” especially nobody who looks like that.

Right?

In all seriousness, I don't exactly know what to do—I don't want to respond immediately and appear too eager and desperate (or, more accurately, as eager and desperate as I actually am), nor do I wish to appear too aloof.

Ugh. I am a mess. Thank you!

—Sean

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Fwd: Dave's sister-in-law

Oh, I wish I could tell you it is a joke, but it is all too real. I know nobody is interested in public-interest law. What can I tell you, insanity runs in that family: hatchet-face we can just take as a given, Tim goes rock-climbing with juveniles convicted of violent crimes, Allie fell for me, and Kimberley wants to be a public-interest lawyer and really wants to meet a guy nine years older than her with no money and a fourteen-year-old daughter. She'll be here in January. Send her an e-mail. Tomorrow. I agree that revealing your true desperation could be a deal-breaker at this point.

You're welcome.

—Dave

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: My dorky poem

Okay, so I got kind of inspired or whatever after the concert. I decided to write a poem, which I know is probably horrible, but since you gave me a painting with this on it, I thought I would send you my pathetic attempt at poetry. Which I am also going to give to Westerberg for extra credit or something because I figure if I can cultivate a tortured artist image with him it can only help my grades. (And yeah, doing some math homework would help my grades too, but that doesn't seem to be happening.)

Anyway, here's my poem:

Girl in a Cage

Girl in a cage

Guards her own grave

She's safe from the wind and the rain

They carved her from rock

And set her on top

She's a monument to their pain

While six feet below

Where the coffin-worms go

There's a cage of a different kind

With some shards of bone

And a scrap of her dress

Which is all that she's left behind

Two girls in two cages

But there's no girl at all:

To say that she's here is a lie

No cage can protect you

The future neglects you

And everything ends when you die.

Okay, so maybe that is a little bit morbid or depressing or whatever, which is kind of funny because I am not feeling too morbid or depressed right now, but anyway, there it is.

Tell me what you think, unless you hate it.

—R

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: My dorky poem

Ros—I really liked it! I think it is really good! I don't think it's dorky, and I don't think it's too morbid, but then I draw skulls and go to the cemetery all the time, ha ha. Thank you! Can I send it to my cousin Jamie? I think he might like it.

Hey Jen invited me to go to hang out with her and her boyfriend at her house tomorrow after school. Do you want to go? I kinda don't but I would feel bad blowing her off, but her boyfriend is kind of creepy and I would like some company. So what do you say?

—Kate

New text message!

From: Rosalind cell

4:30 pm

911 PLS CALL MY CELL N ACT MAD, WHRE THE HLL AM I, ETC.. IN A BAD SITCH. I NEED AN EXIT. THTS A MATRIX JOKE.

Dear Fluffy,

Greetings from the New Jersey Turnpike! Sean is in line at Sbarro and I am sitting here with dorks staring at me like they never saw a girl typing before, which maybe they haven't.

Anyway, Sean is kind of my hero even though we are now doing something weird and I kinda wonder if he's losing it. So me and Kate and a bunch of other people went to Jen's boyfriend's house and it was cool I guess but Kate is right the guy is creepy which I guess news flash that some twenty-five-year-old dating a junior in high school is creepy, but he just made me really uncomfortable but I didn't feel like I could leave and then they got high and I kind of passed it past me if you know what I mean because I was wicked uncomfortable and I wanted to be in control because like I said this guy Carsten was creepy and he had other creepy pedophile buddies there and even some older girls who were like gonna claw our eyes out because we were on their turf like we wanted those gross guys or something. Anyway after the weed which I noticed Kate also passed up, Carsten was like well now let's make it interesting and he starts fishing out some little plastic bags which I don't know what was in them but it wasn't something I wanted to be involved in and Jen was like frenching him and horrible Polish punk music was playing and I was like I have to get the fuck out of here but I don't know how to do it so I sent Sean a text message like call me and act mad and he did a great job.

Well, he did a terrible job acting mad because he was all like “Are you safe, what's going on?” and I had to be like, “God! I told you I'm just in the basement, I can't hear the house phone, stop calling me every five minutes!” and he was all like “should I call the police?” and I'm all “NO! I am in the house, I swear!” And he was like, “Okay, I'm coming to get you, where are you, and I was like all sarcastic, “Yeah, okay, I'm going to run down to Ashmont and get the T so I can get home before you're off work, because I'm out partying in the middle of the afternoon!” and he was like, “I will be at Ashmont in ten minutes,” and I felt so relieved but I had to be like, “Fine!”

So then I was like hey everybody I'm technically grounded and I have to actually bust my ass home and Kate jumped up like she shouldn't walk to Ashmont alone so I will take her and we like ran out of there and then Sean pulled up at Ashmont and Kate was like oh my God you set that up and that is so cool your dad is so cool to come and get you, blah blah blah and I swear she ought to move in with him and I will go be less loved than the twins and her folks probably wouldn't even notice.

Damn that pizza line is long. I am starving. And there are like a million screaming little kids in here.

Anyway, we dropped Kate off and then Sean was all I'm so proud of you for calling me and I liked your Matrix joke and I'm glad you feel that you can count on me and all this stuff which I was just like shut up.

And then it was all why are you in this situation on a Friday afternoon, did Kate invite you there, were people getting high, you smell like weed, were you getting high, and I was like, look, I called you because I wanted to get out of that situation which maybe shows that you should trust me!

He was like, yeah, okay, but let's go home and pack because we are going to Philadelphia for the weekend. I guess we are going to see my famous stoner grandpa so I will be scared straight or something which is so dumb because I already just said no and even if I didn't it's not like meeting some old guy is going to make me change my evil ways. Sean says no, he was planning this anyway and I was like yeah, that's why you never told me but whatever.

Here he comes with pizza, finally.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: On the Road Again

Greetings from the New Jersey Turnpike! I am at this internet kiosk in a service area between the Sbarro and the convenience store. Why am I here, you ask? I'm taking Ros to visit Dad, which he and I had spoken about, but also because Ros gave me this emergency call to get her from some drug den this afternoon, and I just felt like she needed to see what several decades of drug use can do. Or else maybe I'm impressed by her courage and I'm taking her to do this thing I don't want to do because I want backup. Okay, I have no idea why I'm doing this. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

Even though I was incredibly proud of her for messaging me to come and get her and I did actually believe her when she said she was not high. She also made this joke in the message—well, anyway, I loved that she made the joke, I loved that she called me when she was in trouble. Basically I love this kid so much it's scary.

And she is glaring at me now, so I suppose we should go. I will let you know how it goes with the old man.

Dear Fluffy:

It is Saturday morning and I am alone in this gross apartment which I kind of can't believe Sean grew up here because he is so neat and everything. Sean and Niall are out getting breakfast or so the note says and I am calling him Niall because I met him last night, well, anyway, let's see.

We got in here at like midnight and Sean found the key where it was hidden and he was like it's amazing nobody has broken in here, that's my key that I hid here in 1984. He said his dad couldn't get off too early because of the short notice but told us to come in and make ourselves at home.

So we like clear a space on the couch and start watching TV, and I swear to God Sean was asleep in like five minutes. At like one o'clock Niall who I guess is my grandfather came home and he was pretty much like Sean described him with this gray beard and everything.

He was like, so I guess you're Rosalind, and I was like so I guess you're my famous stoner grandfather, and he laughed and laughed but Sean didn't wake up, and so he was like, I'm starving, you wanna go get some cheese fries, and I'm like, okay, fine.

So we go to this place which is like full of drunken frat boys and me and Niall which is what he told me to call him, and we get these cheese fries, which were really good so we actually got two orders, and he was like, “So, do you hate him?”

And I was like, “Sean?”

And he's like, “Yeah, because he hates me for being the one who lived,” and I was like actually I think he hates you because you were high all the time or anyway that's what he says.

And he got kind of sad looking and he was like, yeah, I did a shitty job, but Sean is an old soul, he didn't really need any parenting, the kid parented himself right into law school, where I'm a really young soul and so I needed to kind of follow my bliss for a few years.

BOOK: Donorboy
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