Hurricane Days (25 page)

I spent Thanksgiving in a walk-in clinic in Tallahassee. My nose was stuffed and itchy, throat scratchy, and I felt really tired. I’d planned to go home for the long weekend, but Mom got nervous when she heard me on the phone.

“You need to rest,” she said. “You could get a fever and pass out on the highway and get yourself killed!” She was the master of the worst-case scenario.

So against my wishes, I stayed in Tallahassee. At the clinic, I sat across from an older man who seemed full of despair. His head was down, his hand covering his forehead. Next to him was a Betty Boop tote bag. I knew it couldn’t have belonged to him, so I figured his wife was the sick one. Sure enough, a white-haired lady came out and motioned him over to the counter to pay the bill. He dutifully rose, carrying the Betty Boop bag. It was cute how couples that had been together a long time sort of merged into one entity. That tired-looking man now owned Betty Boop.

My thoughts were drifting all over the place when they called me next. I was examined by a gray-haired doctor with a bored expression, who I knew would have rather been playing golf than looking up my nose.

“You have allergies,” he said after less than two minutes.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I mean, I’ve never had allergies before.”

“You can get them any time in your life.”

“Are you sure it isn’t the flu or walking pneumonia…” I wanted it to be something serious to keep me away for Thanksgiving. I was still fuming that I was going to miss my mother’s raisin stuffing. Everything about this year was wrong!

“You’re not from here, correct?” he asked, looking over the form I filled out.

“No.”

“Well, Florida has lots of flowers and plants that don’t all agree with everyone. Your body is reacting to something in the flora or fauna.”

Then get rid of the flora and fauna.
The problem wasn’t with me.

I assumed my uppity posture. “So what does this mean?”

“You’ll need to see an allergist and get shots.” He wasn’t much for delivering news gently. He probably told people who were dying: “You’re dying.”

“Shots?” I repeated.

“They’ll test to see which things bother you.” He rolled his chair closer to me, looking annoyed. Obviously he was going to have to explain biology to a patient. Darn. “Your body has an immune system, right? It attacks allergens, or what it considers foreign invaders. Your immune system is hyperactive and trying to keep out what it thinks doesn’t belong.”

“Sounds like me.”

“You’re a college kid, right?”

I nodded.

“Didn’t they cover this in high school?” He was snarky, and I was immediately offended.

“You don’t have to be rude,” I said quietly.

“In the meantime,” he said, ignoring me, “take a decongestant. You’ll be fine.” He waved me out with his sun-damaged, leathery hand.

Since I’d already missed half the weekend, I opted not to go home. I’d see everyone at Christmas anyway.

It was weird, though. The campus seemed haunted with virtually no one else there, except kids who were foreign exchange students who didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving or the ones who were trying to study extra hard to become the valedictorian.

I went to the Performing Arts building and checked out a copy of
Desert Hearts
. I excitedly read the description on the back and brought it back to the dorm room. That night I curled up with a box of tissues, watching my first-ever movie about two women falling in love, while sniffling and sneezing through most of it. As the credits rolled, I didn’t have much doubt left about who I was. But I still wavered as to how I could possibly live my life admitting such a thing, being from a prominent family in a conservative place.

Luckily, Carol didn’t go home that weekend either. New York was too far for her, so she saved her plane ticket for Christmas. I stayed at her place on the last night, before Adrienne would be coming back, just for the company. Carol and I sat up and watched old movies together. The latest was a Barbara Stanwyck film noir classic,
Double Indemnity
.

“See, my roommate would hate this,” I said. “She rolls her eyes at anything that’s in black and white.”

“She sounds like an idiot.”

“Yeah.” But my face was still dreamy, I guess. My sneeze interrupted my thoughts and shook the roof.

“Jesus! Tissue?”

I nodded, and she handed me a box of Kleenex from the bathroom.

“You’re so lucky to have your own bathroom,” I said.

“You always say that.”

“It’s a luxury, a private bath,” I muttered. I still wasn’t used to my dorm setup, “I know, I know. I’m whining.”

“Yeah, knock that shit off.” She muted the TV. “She told you the deal, right?”

It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about. “Adrienne? Yeah, I guess.”

“No
guess
. She told you. She flat-out said she wasn’t queer.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t like that word.”

“It doesn’t matter! You know what she meant!” Carol seemed frustrated.

“Is it the Tight End?” I asked. “Is that why you’re so…so…”

“Bitchy?” She finished my sentence. “Partly. But I’m done with him. I know when to pull the plug. You need to know that too.”

“I get what you’re saying, but…”

She touched my thigh. I didn’t think twice about it at the time. “You need to be with someone who appreciates you.” She was unusually kind, nearly sensitive. It was alarming.

“Thanks.” I looked back at the TV until she unmuted it.

* * *

When Adrienne came back, I asked her how her Thanksgiving was, which seemed like normal conversation to me. But she was hostile about it.

“Okay,” she said. “Whenever my dad and I are alone, it’s…totally awkward. And the turkey was dry ’cause he can’t cook.” She unzipped her suitcase. There was more going on besides the turkey, I was certain.

“Want to talk about it?” I asked.

“No.” She started unpacking, then stopped abruptly, letting out a long sigh. “See, we get in this fight all the time. It’s the same damn thing. If I even hint that I might wanna study music, he goes off, like, do I want to live in a shack? Do I want to not know where my next meal is coming from…shit like that. Then I get depressed and wish I never brought it up.”

“You could take some electives,” I suggested.

“Like you, you mean.”

“No, I’m flat-out lying. You could really take a class here and there, and see how you feel about it.”

She paused and smiled at me, then resumed unpacking. I hoped I made her feel better.

For the next couple of weeks, we were immersed in finals. Yet there was that nagging feeling I had, wishing we could have another party. Ironically, when Adrienne used to beg me to “party” with her, I’d say no. Now all I wanted was for her to ask me again. But oddly, she seemed content to study and do the things we came to school to do. I didn’t like it. Though I got her message about not being queer, I didn’t want to believe it. I kept the hope alive that she wasn’t being completely honest. It was the only thing that kept me going.

* * *

It wasn’t long before holiday lights were strung around all the dorm windows. The party had begun early that evening, with empty beer cans scattered around our room. Despite what she’d told me, I was certain that in her less guarded moments, I could make it happen again. Maybe it’s the certainty that comes from obsessive love, when you need to believe someone feels what you do. I’d always considered myself a pretty logical person, but maybe this is what happens when you fall hard for someone. Maybe I was on the road to a padded cell…I didn’t care.

I felt pretty tonight in my black turtleneck, but thought Adrienne was even more beautiful in a fuzzy, oatmeal-colored sweater. I wanted to run my hands all over the softness…of that sweater. Tonight, our last night before Christmas break, I envisioned a party that would end up with us curled up on one of our beds, a perfect last night before I had to go back home where I’d be tempted to repent. So I tried to see if Adrienne wanted to spend more time with me. When she took another beer out of the fridge, I asked for another too. I knew that Adrienne was like a cat I was trying to hold that was restless and ready to slip out of my arms at any minute. But when something feels so good, you want to ignore any signs that say otherwise, even if they’re flashing in neon letters.

The sun was starting to go down, so Adrienne lit a small tree decorated with miniature beer can ornaments.

“Where did you get
that?
” I asked.

“Don’t make fun. It was a gift…from Sean.”

I folded my arms.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Adrienne protested, shaking a stubborn light that wouldn’t turn on.

“I didn’t know you were still seeing him.”

“Yeah,” she answered. “We hang out sometimes.” She seemed defensive.

We both stood with arms crossed, regarding the tree. “Whaddaya think?” Adrienne asked.

It’s the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“It’s…different.”

“You hate it.”

“Hate is a strong word.”

“Oh, geez!” Adrienne threw her hands up in the air. “It was a gift. I can’t take it down.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s your room too.” I tried to be polite, though why I didn’t know.

“You’re such a liar.” She smiled, finishing off her can in record time. She came closer, and I set down my drink. She held both of my hands and looked in my eyes with a mixture of wonder and fear.

I raised my hand to her face, running my fingers down her jaw, to her neck. She closed her eyes; she seemed to enjoy being touched. Alarm bells sounded in my mind as I wondered if she’d soon pull away.

“Sometimes,” she said, “I feel confused about you.”

I couldn’t help but smile. I wanted her to be confused. I touched my lips to hers in a light, gentle kiss. But she jerked back.

“Crap! He’ll be here in a minute!” she exclaimed, looking for something.

“
He’s
coming?” All the blood left my body. An icy chill blew into the room.

“Yeah. You have plans tonight?”

You were my plans.
“Not really. I might go hang out with some friends.”

“I owe you an explanation.” Adrienne was very serious.

“Save it.”

“No, listen!” She held my arm, which I yanked away.

“I don’t want to listen! I don’t want to hear any more about him, okay?” I hated who I was becoming, and it was all her fault.

She ran her hand through her hair. I watched in awe as she came a little undone and was secretly glad to be the reason for it. “I feel all these things about you. I’m not trying to lead you on…but…I can’t figure it out.”

“Stay with me tonight,” I said. I couldn’t go a whole month suspended like this. I looked intently into her eyes, hoping my silent plea would persuade her.

Then came the inevitable knock on the door that ruined everything.

Still looking at me, Adrienne opened it. It was Sean. “Hey, we gotta hurry,” he told her. “I’m parked in the tow-away.”

“Keep your pants on!” She was obviously torn. “Will you be okay?”

“Sure.” I averted my eyes, scared she might see my tears.

It wasn’t long before Lydia made her presence known. “Somebody’s parked in the tow-away zone, which is a violation!”

“I’m movin’ it!” Sean barked, then pointed at Adrienne. “Come on!”

Adrienne turned to face me with outstretched arms and that infectious, warm smile. It was a smile that made me forgive all of her sins. “I guess this is it,” she said. And what came next was more for the two people waiting in the doorway: “We’ll have to catch up later. But if I don’t see you, have a great Christmas!”

“You too.” So she was spending the night at Sean’s.

She wrapped her arms around me, hugging me so tightly I was swallowed up in her oatmeal sweater. I closed my eyes and breathed in the softness of her, wanting to stay that way as long as I could. For some reason, I couldn’t stay angry at her, even though I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to! When she released me, Sean yelled, “Let’s go, Austen!”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Behind double Gothic-looking doors embossed with two mirror images of cobras appeared a burly bouncer with muscles protruding from his tattooed upper arms. He was a human Popeye.

Standing in the dimly lit foyer, I squeezed Andrew’s arm, wondering what I was doing here. Of course I knew. Nothing could be sadder than sitting alone in the dorm room tonight, imagining all of the things Sean was going to do to Adrienne. So of course I called Andrew, who told me there was a special holiday discount at his club tonight. I begged Carol to come with us. Though she insisted she’d been there before, which I thought was a lie, she reluctantly agreed to come later.

Andrew gave me a reassuring answer squeeze, which silently told me that all would be okay in spite of the fact that we were in a sketchy part of town, that there was no sign from the road and that this seemed like the sort of place that police would swarm at any minute.

The bouncer stamped my hand with a black ink smear of their snake logo. “Thank you,” I said politely, which only made me seem more out of my element, if that was possible. I’d worn my black sweater with jeans, and my eyes widened at a group who seemed to be wearing the material you find on floor mats in your car. It was shimmering rubber or something similar, and some of them had heavy chains around their necks—not the kind of chains that could pass for a necklace, more like a chain-link fence.

“C’mon.” Andrew grabbed my arm before I got us thrown out for staring and looking like I didn’t belong, I guess.

We turned the corner and walked through a giant, carved mouth of a cobra. When we emerged on the other side, I saw a world that was beyond my imagination. It was a sprawling, dark and foggy club. A singer I’d later learn was Siouxsie Sioux shouted from huge screens, which wouldn’t have made that much difference had I ever seen anything like her before. She was singing a song that was a cross between a dirge and a Broadway musical. There was nothing I could compare it to. But what struck me most was that she was the most self-possessed, confident female I’d ever seen. With black spikey hair and dark eye makeup that could only be described as demonic-looking, she moved and sang in a way that dared everyone to even try and not look at her. All of the music in this place was strange to me. There was a dance song that moved like a fast carousel, with spinning wheels in the video. And a group I’d learn was Sisters of Mercy—they were so tough and leathery, they made heavy metal bands look like cupcakes. Andrew called it “alternative” music—Erasure, The Cure, Siouxsie & the Banshees—all kinds of bands, all new to me, that I discovered in that one night. It was magical, really. How many times can you remember a single night when a whole new world is opened to you?