Just Ask (4 page)

Krissy and Micah are her younger siblings (only eight and ten years old and not very helpful). But despite Natalie's complaints, I know she loves them both a lot. But I also know that Mrs. McCabe has gone through a lot of pretty weird mood swings since Natalie's dad ran out on them last year. Not that you can blame her exactly. I mean, he gave them absolutely no warning, just hooked up with a coworker and took off.

And I know it hasn't been easy for Natalie either, since she picks up a lot of the slack with Krissy and Micah, but usually she manages to maintain a fairly brave front. I figure she must be feeling pretty bummed today,

“Okay,” I tell her. “You win. I'll send John and his crew over to your house for the exposé.”

She kind of smiles now. “Thanks. Sorry to dump like that.”

This is one of those times when I try to give her
some space. And I try not to get too aggravated if she acts like my life is so perfect. Mostly I know she doesn't really mean it; she's just hurting over her family's troubles. And hey, maybe she is a little jealous.

We talk and joke some more, and Natalie's mood slowly improves. Then the table gets quiet, and Jake picks up the newspaper that's sitting at his elbow. “Did you guys see this new teen column?”

I take in a quick breath. Just chill. Remain calm. Do not give anything away. “No, what is it?”

“Don't you even read your dad's newspaper?” Natalie knows this embarrasses me.

“Your dad owns the paper?” asks Cesar.

I laugh. “No, he just acts, like it. Actually, he's the managing editor.”

“Well, you should read this advice column.” Jake turns to the Teen Beat page and hands it to me.

Now I can't tell, by the tone of his voice, whether he approves of it or not. But I am getting seriously unnerved as I take the newspaper and pretend to skim over the very words I wrote earlier this week. “Yeah, so?”

“Don't you think it's funny?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You must not have read the one about the girl who caught her uncle trying on her grandma's nightgown,” says Natalie, suppressing laughter. “Jamie's response was hilarious. She has such a great sense of humor.”

“How do you know it's a she?” asks Cesar. “I think Jamie must be a guy.”

“No way,” argues Natalie. “Jamie's got to be a girl.”

And on they go arguing over Jamie's gender. In order to continue my charade, I take turns on different sides as I attempt to act unimpressed by the column in general. But it seems fairly clear that Cesar and Natalie actually like it. Jake's still not quite sure.

“I don't know…” he says. “I think I would've told the belly-button girl to just go ahead and pierce it. I mean, it's her body. Why should her parents get to decide what she does with her own belly button anyway?”

“Of course you'd think that.” Natalie points to the dragon climbing up his arm. “I mean, you've got a tattoo. Did your parents give you permission to do that?”

He laughs. “Hey, they were so checked out at the time. Like they never even noticed it for about a year or so.”

“And what did they do then?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Nothing.” But his eyes seem sort of sad, and I suspect that he'd hoped for a bigger reaction.

“Hey, have you heard from Chloe lately?” I ask Cesar, thinking we must be about ready for a new subject by now.

“Not for a couple of weeks. But I think their concert tour is really tough this time. It's taking a lot out of them. It sounds like they play almost every other night.”

“Won't they be home soon?” I ask.

“Yeah. They're supposed to be back in school this fall.”

“That's cool,” I say. “I felt like I was just getting to know Chloe again last spring.”

“She's great,” says Cesar.

Jake gives him an elbow in the ribs. “Yeah, Cesar's still hot for Chloe.”

Cesar narrows his eyes slightly. “I am not, Jake. I just happen to think she's a cool girl. And I admire what she's doing with her life.”

“So do I,” says Natalie. “She's really serving God with her music.”

And suddenly the three of them are going on and on about God and Jesus, and they are definitely losing my interest. Finally, I tell Natalie that I need to get back home. It's not really true, but it gets me out of a conversation that was getting increasingly uncomfortable. I mean, Cesar and Jake are nice guys and everything, but when they get going about religion, with Natalie around, well, it turns into a lose-lose situation for me.

And now it's time to answer another “Just Ask Jamie” letter. After sorting through some of the tougher subjects—things I don't feel quite up for tonight—I go with one that seemed pretty simple and straightforward, at least to me.

Seriously, what is wrong with some people? I can't believe that some girls are still falling for this kind of crud. Like do they live under a stone or what? I saw this news special where they exposed this fifty-something,
baldheaded, potbellied, loser dude who lives in a mobile home park with his wife and four kids…and he was posting photos (supposedly of himself) that looked an awful lot like Brad Pitt so he could hook up with teenage girls on the Internet. And the incredibly lame part is that these totally naive girls fell for it. I mean, they actually thought they'd found a boyfriend who looked like a movie star. Get real.

Too bad all of life's questions aren't as simple and easy to answer as Heading Souths. Like I got this other letter from a girl who calls herself Lost and Afraid. She's asking questions about God and life and death. Her brother recently died, and she's still hurting. But I have absolutely no idea what I should say to this poor girl. So I'll just bury that letter beneath the rest. I mean, the column is called “Just Ask Jamie.” If they want answers about the meaning of life, they should just ask God. Right?

Now, I'm going to get real here. Besides, feeling guilty about being unable to answer some of these meaning-of-life letters, I have to ask myself—what really is the meaning of life? According to Buddhist beliefs, it is the never-ending process of suffering and self-denial until you practically cease to exist. And to be perfectly honest, that doesn't sound all that good to me. I mean, what would it be like not to exist? And why would that even be a good thing?

So I am feeling more puzzled than usual. And I remember listening to Natalie, Cesar, and Jake talking
about God at the Paradiso today. Its like they have it all figured out. Well, sort of. Now I have to ask myself, what business do I have writing this advice column when I am clearly way more confused than most people in this world? Not only do I feel like a hypocrite but also like a fool. And I'm considering going to my dad and just pulling the plug on this whole thing. Then I remember a certain yellow something that's parked in our driveway. And suddenly I'm not so sure.

Maybe I need to take a break and just clear my head. And I know how I can do that. I think it might be time to go driving with Miss Daisy! Now, if I was a truly devout Buddhist, I would realize that taking delight in such obvious materialistic experiences is both carnal and unvirtuous (a word they like to use). But you know what? I really don't care!!!

Sometimes things happen, things you previously thought would make little difference to you personally, but they just totally knock you sideways. That's what happened to me today. Oh, not that it was about me. I am not so narcissistic to believe that. But it's hard not to react personally to something like this. And when I heard the news this morning, well, it felt as if someone had dumped a ton of wet cement on me. like I could barely breathe or walk or talk or think. Mostly I've just been crying. It's like I can't stop.

“A girl from your school was in a serious accident last night,” my dad told me this morning, laying the front page of his newspaper facedown, I suspect so I wouldn't read the headline yet.

“Who was it?” I ask him, reaching for the paper.

“Did you know Tiffany Knight?” he asks, studying my face.

“Yeah. We're not like good friends or anything. What happened? Is she okay?”

He flips the paper over, and I see Tiffany's photograph and read the headline: Seventeen-Year-Old Girl Killed in Motorcycle Accident.

I stare at the paper now. “She's dead?” I finally say.

Dad nods. “It says she died instantly. Her father was the driver. They were going pretty fast when they hit gravel. The bike went out of control and hit a telephone pole. He's in critical condition.”

“But Tiffany is dead?”

“Yes. It's very sad.” Dad reaches for my hand now. “You okay, honey?”

I nod, but this gigantic lump is growing in my throat. “I mean, like I said, we weren't very good friends, but it's just, well, you know…kinda shocking.”

My dad looks sad too. “I know what you mean.”

Then I go into the kitchen and get a glass of orange juice. But I can't choke it down. Finally I give up and just pour it down the sink. Then I go back to my room, close the door, sit on my bed, and try to imagine what dying is like.

I know it sounds morbid, but it's the truth. What is death like? I mean, I've never actually known anyone who died before. And suddenly I wonder if Tiffany can feel anything, hear anything, see anything? Where is she right now? Or did she simply stop existing the moment
she drew her last breath? It all seems very strange and sad and mysterious. And very depressing. Very, very depressing.

To be honest, I'm not feeling this bummed because Tiffany was such a good friend to me; she wasn't. I didn't even like her. In fact, I used to go out of my way to avoid her. But this doesn't make me feel any better. No, instead of simply feeling bad about her death and depressed about dying in general, now I can add a huge heap of guilt onto my pile too. Why hadn't I been nicer to her? What kind of horrible person am I anyway?

Finally, I can't take it any longer, and I call Natalie. It turns out that she hasn't even heard the news yet, so I break it to her quickly. Just get it out and over with.

“You're kidding?” she says. ‘Tiffany Knight is dead?”

“Yeah.” I take in a breath. “It's on the front page of the newspaper.”

“Man, that is so sad.”

“I know. I mean, I wasn't that good of friends with her, but we used to talk sometimes.”

“Yeah, me too.”

And so Natalie and I talk some more about Tiffany, and we actually try to say some positive things about her. like how she became a lot nicer last year (she used to be kind of a bully), and how she and Chloe Miller were actually friends (well, sort of). Stuff like that.

But even after we finish and hang up, I still feel pretty bummed. It's like I cannot shake these feelings. I can't
get thoughts of Tiffany out of my head. I just sit there in the kitchen, staring out the window like a zombie.

“Don't you want to come to church with us today?” my mom asks when she sees me moping.

“Not really.”

“But I can see this news about your friend is very upsetting to you.” She puts her arm around me. “Maybe you'd feel better to go to church today, maybe Pastor Garret will have some—”

“No. I don't want to go.”

Mom frowns, then leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “Well, you know that we're not going to make you go. But I do wish you'd reconsider, sweetie.”

“I know, Mom.” I'm blinking back new tears now. “But I just can't. Okay? Maybe another time.”

She nods. “All right.”

Then she and Dad both leave, and I am alone in our house. And okay, here's what's weird…suddenly I am feeling totally freaked to be alone. Don't even ask me why I just feel like I was stupid to stay here by myself when I'm feeling so down. But it's too late. They're gone and I'm here. All alone.

So I sit down to write in my diary, hoping that it will make me feel better. But all I feel is this bleak sense of hopelessness and futility. Like what is life supposed to be all about anyway? We live, we die, the end? It just doesn't make sense. And why did Tiffany have to die when she was so young and didn't even understand the meaning of life?

At least I assume she didn't. I mean, how can anyone our age understand such things? I just feel so confused, and I wish there was someone I could talk to. Really talk to. Someone who gets me. But who would that be?

Oh, I know my parents love me, and they'd try to understand, but I don't think they really get me. Not really. And there's Natalie, but she sounded as confused as I do. Well, except for the fact that she believes Tiffany is in heaven. Still, I don't know how she can be so sure about something like that. How can we know? I consider calling Natalie and grilling her further on this whole thing, but I know that she, like my parents, is probably sitting in’ church right now.