Everything Is Perfect When You're a Liar (13 page)

I spent the next few hours on a couch in the yard, surrounded by people, talking to no one. As the sun came up, I realized I was watching my innocence fading with the night sky. I'd always been led by this invisible hand of optimism: “Friendships are all about fun!” I'd always expected that self-discovery would be great, you know?
Who am I going to be when I grow up?
—the very thought gave me tingles. But as I sat there that morning, I realized I already
was
who I was, and all of this social garbage was going to make growing up, and feeling optimistic, pretty difficult. Did I want to smoke and drink before I met these kids? It hadn't even occurred to me. I was the kid who peed her pants, with black makeup all over her eyes and cotton candy for hair.

Shar came and sat with me.

“Do you want to come to the mall later?”

So what now? After all of this, somehow I still seemed cool? I felt like such an asshole and yet I'd won. Now the bitchiest girl wanted to befriend me because *I* looked like a hard-ass thief who gave zero fucks.

“We could meet at the mall and have dinner in the food court,” she said. “I want to take you shopping.” This was the part where the loser girl goes shopping with the Goth queen and turns into a Goth. The next step would be me becoming cooler than her, and her turning on me because “she made me.” I'd watched enough coming-of-age films to figure all this shit out.

“No,” I said. “I'm going to be sleeping. Then I'm going to make cookies and eat them and drink tea while I watch
60 Minutes
with my mom and dad. That's my Sunday thing. But I'll see you at school on Monday?” I gave zero fucks.

I got up and went into the house, leaving Shar with her cuticles.

I called my dad. “Can you come and pick me up?”

Exactly thirteen minutes later, I saw my dad turn around the corner in his Mustang, puffing on his morning cigar. I sat there on the sidewalk for a second, wiping my hands in the dewy grass, hoping to get rid of any smoke smell I'd missed in the bathroom. Then I climbed into the passenger seat. My dad is built like an ox, and he has a big mustache, so everyone always thinks he's a cop. This morning, he'd put on his dark gray intimidation suit and his get-shit-done
Sopranos
attitude. “Do you need me to go inside? To do something?”

“No,” I said, pulling on my seat belt. “Let's just go.” It suddenly occurred to me that he wasn't angry. And then another fear washed over me:
My parents have let me go.
They aren't freaked out that they didn't know where I was.
I was the only one upset about it. Another little bit of innocence lost.

“I'm such an idiot.”

He paused and puffed on his cigar. “Don't you have any stuff?”

My bag was somewhere in the house, but all it had inside were empty bottles. I'd left my cigarettes on the couch, and my clothes and my toothbrush full of vomit were in the ravine.

“No,” I said, my eyes filled with tears. “Why am I so stupid?”

He revved the engine and laughed. “Shit,” he said. “You're a teenager.”

We pulled away from the sidewalk and drove home.

WORK
EXPERIENCE
101

ADVISER: MRS. MOLIN, SCHOOL COUNSELOR

MARCH 22, 1994

I'd like to start this report by admitting that I only took this course to get the final ten credits I need to graduate high school. As you know, I dropped out of chemistry class earlier in the semester, but I had a really great reason: ketones were driving me crazy. The truth is, I know I don't want to be a doctor or engineer, so I decided not to put myself through it. I could have totally finished chemistry—I want you to know that. I'm smart. But I'm also lazy, and that combination just makes me very efficient in everything I do. Bottom line: I want to graduate from high school efficiently and move into the workforce as soon as possible.

My Work Experience course is teaching me some really great things about the real workforce and what kinds of moral situations you can find yourself in as an employee. I applied for a job at a local video store, and I've almost completed my one hundred hours of work.

I've felt really lucky to get the job at the video store. Everyone I know wants to work in a video store, especially since discovering that Quentin Tarantino worked in one. I get to wear whatever I want. I get to watch movies for my entire shift. I get VHS movies before they even come out for anyone else to rent, which is something I did NOT know happened in real life. I love recommending movies to people, and I love getting free posters. I think they'll come in handy when I need to decorate my first apartment. Since I've decided against becoming a doctor or an engineer, I pretty much know I won't be able to afford real art anyhow.

My boss's name is Chad. He looks a lot like Tony Danza in
Who's the Boss
, season one. I'm telling you this so you aren't bored out of your mind as you read my report. I can't imagine anything worse than reading student reports on jobs all day, but I assure you this one will be the best. If there is one thing I'm good at, it's trying to make things easier on other people. That's one of the lessons I've learned on the job.

The owner of the video store lives across the street, which has definitely come in handy. On my first day he gave me his phone number, and I was a little worried I'd have to file a sexual assault report with you, but it turned out to be just an emergency number, so I was relieved. Chad is friendly, but right off the bat I didn't agree with how he organizes his store. I like having videotapes behind the empty cases, on the floor in the shelves. He likes having them behind the counter. That means people have to bring the empty video box to me; then I have to look for it behind the counter and give it to them. I do not understand this extra step. I think it causes a lot of wasted time, and I've brought this to his attention, as I do not believe that people are really going to steal his movies. But Chad seemed upset when I told him it was stupid. So I guess one of my lessons has been: don't argue with a guy who looks like Tony Danza.

Another part of the job I find wasteful is rewinding the tapes. I believe that renters can do this themselves, even if they've just rented the movie and the previous renter hadn't rewound. I particularly don't like rewinding the pornographic videos that come in, because I know they are dirty. I hope you aren't upset or shocked that pornography was a part of this Work Experience course. I'm perfectly able to stay professional when a man hands me
Ultra Kinky #79: Bowlin' in Her Colon
. It comes with the job. Even people who aren't doctors can pride themselves on professionalism when it comes to seeing penises while at work.

There is a small section in the middle of the store that contains a lot of pornographic movies. I've seen these sectioned-off rooms in video stores all my life, but this job has given me an opportunity to be the actual boss of a porno room. It never even occurred to me when I applied for the job that I would be the porno room boss. It's really cool, but there have been two issues surrounding this heavy responsibility. The first is that rewinding returned porno tapes is gross. I'm always expecting one will be wet or tacky to touch. And trust me . . . no one finishes an entire porno tape. No one. I have to rewind every single one of them. But I do it without complaining because that's my job. The second thing involves the porn and my morals and my ability to be a good employee. I will be very specific about these events, because I want you to understand the important lesson I learned from this course.

One night, it's snowing. I'm by myself, manning the store. And here, rolling down the street toward the store, comes a guy in a wheelchair (not a motorized wheelchair, just a do-it-yourselfer) making his way through the parking lot. I run to open the doors for him and he propels himself in.

“Thanks!” he says.

“No worries! I do that for every customer, not just the ones in wheelchairs,” I lie, because I'm a really friendly employee who doesn't want to make this guy in a wheelchair feel
less than capable
just because this store doesn't have automatic doors.

He tells me his name is Dwayne and I immediately start calling him “Dwayne the Wheelchair Guy” in my head. This is because everyone loves a nickname. Then I go back to dusting the shelves and watching
What's Eating Gilbert Grape
(huge Leo fan).

A short time later, out of the corner of my ear, I hear a weird squeaking sound. It takes me a minute to realize it's the sound of Dwayne attempting to push the swinging doors to the porno room open. He keeps pushing, and they keep shutting in his face before he can get in. I am the boss of the porno room, so I go over to let him in. He really seems like a nice enough guy. Big doughy face. Casio wristwatch. A bit of drool, but that only makes him more lovable.

I hold the saloon doors open. I don't do this for everyone, but he's the only customer in a do-it-yourself wheelchair who I've met.

Dwayne rolls inside the room and I go back to watching
Gilbert Grape
. As soon as they finish the scene where Arnie's mom is telling Arnie he should be able to bathe himself, I suddenly realize I'm ignoring my customer.
But he's in the porno room,
I think.
Do I really need to bother him?
I let ten minutes pass, and then I start to get worried. I hesitate, then walk over to the saloon doors. Keeping my back to the wall, I slowly peek around the corner and through one of the tiny slats in the door.

His back is to me; he's facing the back wall of the room. We call that the Ass Wall. Then I notice it. The shaking. His whole body's moving up and down.

He's jerking off.
He's jerking off in my porno room.

My whole body gets hot and I get a head rush so brutal I almost fall over. I slam my back up against the wall and cover my mouth. I creep back to the counter, not sure what I should do to address the situation.

I look at Leo DiCaprio on the screen. WWLD??

This is real life, Kelly,
I think.
This is the workforce. This is what happens when you drop out of chemistry class, can't be a doctor, and have to work as the boss of a porno room in a video store. Sometimes a customer's just going to jerk off and you have to roll up your sleeves and deal with it.

THEN IT HITS ME. Dwayne has no idea, but this jerk-off chauffeur is onto him.
He isn't going to rent a thing.
He isn't even a REAL CUSTOMER, for crying out loud!

Mrs. Molin? Here's the part of my Work Experience course where you'll be really proud of giving me ten credits to graduate, but then also be really sad about what I learned about myself in the role of dutiful employee: Dwayne, I realize, is stealing! Every other person who goes in that room has to take the movie home to watch it, and they have to pay five dollars a movie to do it. My boss, the one who's always worried about people stealing his tapes, is getting ripped off by a jerk-off con artist, right under his nose. Even his movie-behind-the-counter strategy isn't working. Meanwhile, this guy is working off the VHS covers alone.

I call Chad.

“Hey, it's Kelly.” I look out the window toward his apartment. “You have to come over right now. We've got a theft in progress.”

I see Chad fly out the front door of his building and run across the street to the store. I stand in the doorway of the store and put my finger to my lips. He's in a panic. “Calm down,” I whisper. “It's okay.” Making a “follow me” gesture, I lead Chad to the porno room, put my finger to my lips again to make sure he stays quiet. We both bend our knees, lean forward, and look into the porno room together. There's Dwayne in his chair jerking off.

Chad covers his mouth with his hand and walks over to the counter. He motions for me to come over to him.

“He's stealing porn!” I whisper.

“Should I call the police? I can't call the police on him.” He runs his fingers through his Danza hair.

“No.” I shake my head. “He's paralyzed and everything.”

“I should call the police.” Chad grabs the phone and I stop him, my hand on his. I suddenly realize I'm sexually harassing him. It's a very charged situation. “Well,” I say, pulling my hand off his
really
hairy arm. “What you should do is tell him to
rent
your goddamn movies like everyone else!”

“Hello?”

We both look toward the porno room.

“Can I get some help with the door?” It's Dwayne. I can see his wheels under the saloon doors.

“I'm coming!” I shout back, regretting my word choice immediately. I turn to Chad. “He needs me to open the doors for him.”

But Chad passes me and gets to the doors first. He swings them open to see Dwayne, his ruddy post-jerk-off face looking horrified.

“Hi!” Chad shouts. “IS EVERYTHING IN THERE TO YOUR LIKING?!”

And here's when I
really
got the “experience” part of the Work Experience course. I was suddenly overcome with guilt for calling Chad and outing Dwayne's jerk-off session. I knew it was my duty, but I felt horrible. I recognized it for the petty theft that it was—but now I could see the big picture, and I realized that I would never want to get called out for masturbating in public. And I'd just done that to Dwayne. It wasn't really worth it.

I look at Dwayne over Chad's shoulder.

Dwayne's eyes and mine lock.

I'm clinging to my African medallion, holding it in front of my mouth so he can see what a sensitive person I am. Then I lower my hands a little so Dwayne can read my lips.

“I'm so sorry,” I mouth to him.

“IF YOU AREN'T RENTING ANYTHING,” Chad bellows, “I SUGGEST YOU LEAVE.” He's not goofing around.