Hurricane Days (6 page)

“You got a boyfriend?” Adrienne asked.

I was surprised it had taken her this long to ask the question. Girls like her always wanted to know things like that. “No,” I replied. I didn’t want to open myself to more criticism about Marc and me.

“You’re lucky,” Adrienne said. “They’re pains in the ass. I’m still with this guy from my high school. But now I’m in college, I wanna have some fun, you know? Some guys get so possessive.”

“I know. I had a boyfriend in high school.” It slipped out. I wanted her to think we had something in common. “He acted like we were married.”

“You only had
one
boyfriend?” There was the judgment again.

“So? What’s the big deal?” Why did this girl make me feel as if everything about me was wrong?

“Nothin’.”

I tried to change the subject. “So why isn’t your boyfriend going here?”

“’Cause he’s a big dumb ass.”

“Gee, that’s nice.” I looked at her, then caught my breath, suddenly grateful for the darkness. My heart was pounding hard in my chest. Why did she have to look so good? I glanced again out the window, feeling as if I’d just stolen something.

She swerved into a nearby parking lot.

“You tryin’ to kill us?” I wailed, vowing never to get in a car with her again.

“Relax, RC! Live a little.” Adrienne scooped up the keys and climbed out of the car.

This was ridiculous. I had nothing in common with this person. Why was my heart pounding so hard when I was around her? It made no sense. If anything, she infuriated me. One minute she made me feel like some backward, clueless person, the next she made me feel like Hobson, the butler in
Arthur
. Like I was the sensible, responsible one inexplicably put in charge of someone who was likely to knock over a fruit stand.

The strange feelings I was having must have been related to nerves. It was, of course, my first day at a university. And she was just…too much to handle on top of that. I decided then and there to make arrangements for a room transfer in the morning. If I had to use my father’s clout, then so be it. I would not stay and subject myself to this…person.

Tonight, though, I had no choice but to follow her into a mostly empty doughnut shop. A single waiter, not yet college age himself, wiped the counter in front of one man who was sitting and smoking at a stool.

We sat at a booth near the window, where I began nervously rearranging silverware.

“Are you like obsessive compulsive or something?” Adrienne asked, studying me.

“No. Why?”

“You’ve moved that like four times.” She gestured to my fork and spoon, which I immediately released in order to begin tapping a glass of water that was sweating as much as I was. I guess the water had been left by a previous customer. None of the tables had been cleaned off yet. Of course she had to pick some dive where they were so short-handed we had to sit amidst other people’s garbage.

Unfortunately, I was too aware of the deep chestnut eyes studying me with great intensity, so I began chattering to change the subject. “I thought we were going to a different sort of place,” I said. I looked around the shop, everywhere but at her. To Adrienne, it probably seemed as though I’d never had a doughnut before, that it was beneath me.

“I love doing breakfast for dinner. You do have doughnuts in Georgia?”

“Of course!” I exclaimed. “It’s not a foreign country, you know. Just because you’ve probably never been out of Florida.”

She lit up a cigarette, never taking her eyes off me. “You know, maybe you should take up smoking.”

I laughed. “Right. My aunt’s a smoker. She’s ninety-eight pounds of nerves.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

“No,” I lied. “Not unless you’re planning to drive us off a cliff later.” My sarcasm always came out to protect me.

Adrienne grinned at my joke, then took out a pair of reading glasses and opened a menu. “Ooh, I want the jelly-filled.”

“Oh, no. Chocolate-glazed. And a big glass of milk.” I snapped my menu shut and unexpectedly met her eyes. They were almost hypnotic, with long, sensuous lashes. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks again. Was I blushing? I struggled out of the awkwardness by glancing away and pretending the moment didn’t exist. I looked around the shop frantically. “If he’d ever come over here.”

“He must be very busy,” she joked.

“I’m starving. Aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah. I was so nervous about meeting you, I didn’t eat all day.”

I was surprised. “
You
were nervous? No way.”

“Yeah. So?”

“I never would’ve guessed it.” I imagined that. Some of the things she said…it never occurred to me that she might be insecure.

Adrienne leaned forward, tapping the ashes into a tray. “Well, we’re gonna be livin’ together. I had to make sure you weren’t a psycho.”

“Like you, you mean.”

Adrienne smiled broadly, sitting back in the booth. “And that little accent of yours. It’s really cute.”

It was official. I was blushing. I wondered if it showed.

“So,” she continued, “have you ever fucked?”

“Have I
what?
”

“Come on. They
do
have fucking in Alabama.”

“
Georgia.
” How dare she forget. I scooted my fork in strange patterns. “No.”

“No, they don’t have fucking in Georgia, or no, you’ve never fucked?”

My eyes darted nervously around the quiet restaurant. “Will you be quiet? And stop saying that word.”

“What word?
Fuck?
” She seemed to be taking great pleasure in tormenting me.

“Please!” This was not a conversation that civilized people had.
Adrienne was crass and rude and…

“Fuck you, Mary Poppins.”

“Fuck me?
Fuck me!
” I was purple. Just then, the only other patron, an older man, walked past us, hesitating at our table and giving me a look of disgust, or possibly interest, on his way out the door. I shriveled up like a raisin, turning my shoulders in as if I could make myself smaller and eventually disappear. When he left, I glared at Adrienne. “You made me say ‘fuck’ in public.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” She crushed her cigarette, her eyes never leaving me. “Well, you gonna tell me or not?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to continue this inappropriate conversation.” I was pleased; the words had glamour and sophistication written all over them.

She grinned. Obviously, I amused her. “I’d hate to be…inappropriate.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m a good Christian and I’m going to wait until marriage.” I spoke with conviction, although deep down I knew it was easier to play the role of a good Christian when there was no real temptation.

“Oh, geez,” Adrienne spat. “Don’t do that. You’ll be all dried up by then.”

I couldn’t believe that anyone in real life talked like this. “Shut up!” Where was Bette Davis when I needed a stop-you-dead-in-your-tracks retort?

“I could never wait that long.” She rested her chin in her hand. “So tell me, why are you so uptight?”

“I’m not uptight!”

“It’s the church thing, right? Or did you have some childhood trauma? See somebody naked at a young age?”

“Shut up!”

“Wait. Was it one of your parents you saw naked? Was that it?”

“Will you just shut up?” My eyebrows raised to my forehead.

“Hey, it scared the hell out of me too. It’s okay.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My dad had gotten out of the shower—”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“He didn’t know I was there. I was like seven, and I accidentally walked into the room, and it was like, what the hell’s
that?
”

“Look, I didn’t see anybody naked!”

At that precise moment, of course, the waiter popped up. I wanted to sink under the table and die.

“Yeah,” the boy said in two octaves. “Most of us try to keep our clothes on here.” He replaced the old glasses with two fresh glasses of water.

I held my forehead, staring down at the table.

“Could we just get one jelly-filled and one chocolate-glazed?” Adrienne said, looking over at me. “A coffee and a—”

“Milk,” I said.

The waiter pulled a pad out of his back pocket and scratched something down. “Is low fat—”

“Fine!” I exclaimed to Adrienne’s great amusement.

When the waiter scurried away, she covered her mouth, pretending not to laugh.

“You’re such a bitch,” I said. “You knew he was coming.”

“Not really.” She took a sip of water. “I swear I wasn’t really looking at him.”

My face must’ve been the color of a strawberry. I said jokingly, “I do believe you’re a bad influence on me, Adrienne.”

“Me? You’re the one shouting ‘inappropriate things’ at everybody.”

As we each recalled the moment, waves of tension-spilling laughter overcame us. In spite of myself, I couldn’t stop laughing. It was one of those gut-splitting, can’t-catch-your-breath-for-hours kind of laughs that I thought would never end. “You’re terrible,” I said in between spasms.

There was something about Adrienne. Despite all her tough talk, there was a shy girl underneath who had to say shocking things to cover up how scared she was. I could see that now. But painting her as a crude, rude, immature, tattooed monster somehow made it easier to be around her. I guess I was as strange in my way as she was.

After a few minutes, when we calmed down, Adrienne stared at me again, curiously. “So why are you here? You’ve got a lot of schools in Georgia.”

“It’s my father’s alma mater. He’s Jimmy Sanders.” I waited for some kind of recognition. “Jimmy Sanders? He’s a state representative in Georgia. He’s been on TV many times,” I said proudly.

“That’s it,” Adrienne replied. “I didn’t buy the good girl act. Now I get it. Your dad’s a politician, so lying runs in your family.”

Did she mean to be this insulting? Or did she have one of those disorders where she had no control over her mouth?

“Adrienne, I take great offense to that.”

“Honey, I’ll bet you take offense to everything.”

Before I could craft a scathing reply, the waiter returned with our drinks and doughnuts.

I was sure that to Adrienne I appeared to be this tightly wound nutcase, self-conscious to a degree rarely seen in the human species. I bet she wanted to see what I’d be like, completely undone with no inhibitions. I was going to have to disappoint her, because that was something
she
was never going to see. When the waiter left, Adrienne asked, “What’s your major?”

“It’s supposed to be political science.” I shrugged my shoulders, still fidgeting with the silverware. “What I really want…” I stopped myself right there. Someone like Adrienne would just make fun. Or would she? “I want to make films. I have a plan. I’m going to make my first film by twenty-five. Get a cabin on a lake. Have a husband named Brian. A dog named Truffaut.” I thought a moment, losing myself in the daydream. “But see, I don’t really like dogs, so I’ll probably just get a little one. That way, it won’t really count as a dog.”

She smiled at me. “You’re a trip.”

“Why? What?” Instantly, I returned to my defensive posture, my shoulders elevated to my ears. “What?”

She watched me with great interest. “That’s cool. No, really. It’s so great that you have…a plan.” She seemed sincere. Suddenly, I didn’t regret sharing it.

I relaxed a little. “What about you? Now that I’ve told you my life story, what do
you
want to do?”

“I don’t know yet.” Some of the powder from her doughnut lingered on her lower lip. It was only a dusting, but I was distracted by it.

“You have a…” I pointed to my own mouth to indicate the location of the powder.

“Huh?”

“Some doughnut…”

She took my hand and made me touch her face. “Get it off.”

So I moved my thumb across her lip and brushed the rest from her chin. Her skin was so soft, so…I yanked my hand away as if I’d just stuck a fork in a light socket.

“So you don’t know yet?” I repeated, trying to act like a normal person.

“I like music, but my dad says I can’t make a career out of it.”

“Wow, sounds like my dad.”

“He’s not okay with you being a film major?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Yes and no. Mostly no. I think my mom is more supportive of that.”

“My dad really pisses me off.” Her gaze turned sad, reflective. “He thinks I should be a lawyer or something he can be proud to tell his friends about when they get drunk on the boat.” She shook her head, as if remembering something uncomfortable. I didn’t want to pry. “You need good grades for shit like that. I always got by on C’s. It wasn’t ’cause I couldn’t do better, but ’cause I didn’t care, you know?”

“What about now?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I hope to find out.” She seemed earnest. “Geez, I never talk this much to anyone.” She smiled so warmly, even shyly. “You’re easy to talk to.”

“I wish I could say the same,” I joked.

She threw a napkin at me.

The time seemed to pass so quickly; I wished I could stay longer in front of my plate of crumbs.

When we got the bill, she grabbed it immediately. “Have you met your Brian yet?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“When the right guy comes along, if his name isn’t Brian, you gonna kick him out?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “No, I just like that name.”

The waiter picked up the cash Adrienne left and smiled at me. “Come back and see us. With or without your clothes.”

She laughed, and I smiled awkwardly at him.

Walking across the parking lot, we dodged puddles of rain that had poured, unnoticed, while we were inside. I followed Adrienne’s swift boots, and all of my senses seemed heightened. I realized I’d never forget this night—the runny reflections of light on the street, Adrienne’s cute smile and the way her long hair fluttered in the breeze when the windows were rolled down. I’d have to rethink the room transfer idea…

“He liked you,” she said as we crossed the parking lot.

“Who?”

“That
guy
. C’mon, couldn’t you tell?”

“I didn’t notice.”

She put her arm around my shoulders. “Stick with me. I’m gonna make a worldly woman out of you yet.”