Know Not Why: A Novel (12 page)

I feel kinda shitty about it, but – well. Too
bad.

“Jenkins, you coming or not?” Cora calls. She’s
already next to her car, because she’s tiny and spry and, oh yeah,
not being dragged down by The Garbage Bag of Infinite Evil.

Arthur stops looking at me, so I stop looking at
him – not that I was looking at him, I was just, you know, your
eyes have to be
somewhere
– and hurry to catch up to her.
The bag thuds into me with every step, threatening to send me
face-down onto the icy pavement, but whatever, that’s cool, it’ll
take more than a garbage bag to stop me tonight. Hell, I’d like to
see a garbage truck try.

“Just put that in here,” Cora says when I
finally reach her. She’s got the door to her back seat propped
open. I fight the garbage bag in. There may be some grunting and
some finger-smashing and one brief, terrible urge to weep manly
tears of manly pain, but let’s not dwell on that. Cora seems pretty
amused while she watches, and she doesn’t tell me to remove myself
from her presence once I’m done, so I figure we’re good.

I slam the door triumphantly, then turn to look
at her. She’s standing there, tiny and fierce: her hair’s pulled
back, but it’s still exploding all over the place. It’s not that
she’s not nice-looking, or whatever: she’s kind of cute in her own
extremely pierced way. Especially when she’s not scowling. Now,
she’s just looking at me, dead on, with this hint of a smile. Tiny
wisps of breath dance from her lips and then fade.

I’m probably spending too much time
contemplating wisps of breath.

Whatever, it’s not like I’m freaking out. I’m
cool. I
have
spent time alone with a non-Amber, non-my-mom
girl before. Not for awhile, sure, if I’m being perfectly honest,
but hey, it’s like riding a bike, right? It’s all just … riding
things.

But to be honest, I haven’t been with a girl –
ya know, Been With, capital letters – since Lindsay. And Lindsay
was kind of awhile ago. And way less Cora-y than Cora.

But. Not a problem. Just a casual
observation.

Cora wiggles her fingers in a wave, and I look
over to see that it’s for Arthur, who’s driving out. Even the
vague, shadowy sight of him is enough to rejuvenate me, to remind
me of the noble purpose that’s propelling me forward, carrying me
valiantly into the arms and the pants of this badass, scary-ass
lady leprechaun of easy virtue.

Cora seems to be thinking along the same lines,
because she slips an arm through mine and says, “You gonna take me
somewhere, Jenkins?”

Panic jolts through me. “Where do you wanna
go?”

Cora squeezes my arm, leans in closer. “How
‘bout you surprise me?”

Surprise her. I can do that.

+

“Two, please.”

“Sure, Howie,” says Stuart, the only guy working
behind the counter at The (unfortunately named) Mystic Sunbreeze.
We were in the same grade in school. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s
worked here since high school. I’d be sad for him, but, well. Kinda
busy.

The Mystic Sunbreeze, despite its unfortunate
moniker, is probably the most beloved movie theatre in town. Sure,
it gets its movies a couple months late, but admission’s only three
bucks. They play old classics a whole lot, too. Mitchy and I have
cherished many a Star Wars night within these walls.

“Hey, Stuie,” I ask, “what’s playing
tonight?”

“Old Yeller,” Stuart replies.

… well,
damn it
.

I look over at Cora, expecting at least a
derisive snort. But nope: good ol’ Lady Mockbeth just keeps on
smiling that same smile, that everything-is-so-funny-in-my-head
smile that is bound to drive me nuts before the evening is
over.

Old Yeller??

“Why the hell are you showing that?” I
demand.

“I dunno, man,” Stuart says, shrugging. “It’s
like family night or something.”

Family night.
Family night.
Oh,
Christ.

I turn to Cora. “We can go—”

But Cora, wee evil lass that she is, is forking
over six bucks to Stuart!

“Thanks,” he says, smiling at us.

“You don’t have to pay,” I blurt out, but it’s
too late.

“It’s six bucks, dude,” Cora says, having the
nerve to look at me like I’m crazy. I probably shouldn’t seem
crazy. Who wants to do a crazy dude? (Well, actually, that seems
right up this girl’s alley.) “It is in no way a big deal.”

“Oh,” I say weakly, because it’s not like I want
to get on her bad side. “Okay. How many other people have come?” I
add to Stuart, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, just a couple,” he replies. With a sly
little smile, he adds, “Don’t worry. It will be nice and
private.”

Perv.

“Cora, seriously, we can—”

“I want some Nerds,” Cora interrupts, hopping
over to the concessions stand.

Great.

Jesus, what horrors must a guy endure? Mitch
never has problems like this, and he
always
has girls.

But, whatever. Cora gets her Nerds, and we head
into the darkened theatre, and I try really hard not to think about
when I was five and I watched this movie and I cried every time I
saw a dog afterwards for like three months. This movie is the
cruelest thing anyone could ever do to children.

It also doesn’t really get a guy in the
mood.

Not that I’m not in the mood. Oh, I am
in the
mood.
For some sex. Believe it.

The movie’s already playing, and sure enough,
the first two rows have got people in them. Some of the people are
so little you can barely see their heads over the backs of the
seats.

Why did I take her to the movies? Why?
Why
? Why couldn’t the surprise destination be the back seat
of my car? Then we could’ve just – gotten it over with, gotten to
it, whatever. Right there in the parking lot of Artie Kraft’s, a
big glorious
FUCK YOU!
to every single slightly
less-than-lady-loving feeling I have ever experienced within its
walls—

“You wanna sit here?” Cora asks. It’s the back
row.

“Yeah, sure.”

We inch to the middle of the row. She plops down
and opens her box of Nerds. I sit next to her. She seems pretty
happy with the Nerds, like she’s suddenly forgotten my existence.
Maybe I’m not as upset about this as I should be.

I stare up at the screen, but its technicolor
glory, its sappy music does nothing to help me out. Instead, I find
myself missing five year old me. Five year old me’s only problem
was getting called Dennis all the time by Miss Temple the
kindergarten teacher. That, I could deal with. Hell, at this point,
getting mixed up with Dennis would be like an
honor
.

My attention is caught by a sudden rattling
sound. I look over to see Cora bringing the box of Nerds to her
mouth and tipping them in.

Hot.

She looks over at me, and I look away fast.

Damn it, why does Kristy have a boyfriend? I
miss Kristy. I miss
Lindsay
, and we had, like, negative
chemistry. Innocent bystanders cringed when they saw us within five
feet of each other.

I miss her anyway.

I’m entertaining the thought of getting up to
get some popcorn, less because I yearn for poppy corny goodness and
more because a temporary escape seems phenomenal, when all of a
sudden, there’s a hand on my thigh.

And apparently it missed with that initial
grope, because then, there’s a hand on …
not
my thigh. If
you get what I’m saying.

I sit really, really still. I don’t know what
else to do.

This. This is not cool. This is public
indecency. At
Old Yeller
. With kids sitting in the front
row.

Her hand’s not really
doing
anything, at
least. Just … sitting there.

Hanging out.

“Um,” I whisper, “what are you …?”

“I’m touching your dick, genius,” Cora whispers
back. But in a way that’s way too loud to be a real whisper. Oh,
God, oh, God, the kids are going to hear that, they’re going to
need therapy, all of them, this plus
Old Yeller
? They’re
doomed.

“Technically, you’re touching my pants.” I don’t
know why I just said that. It seemed like a good thing to say.

She smirks at me. “Are you complaining?”

“No, no!” I exclaim. It’s not like I wanna hurt
her feelings. Tiny madwomen have feelings too. “I … just … you
wanna leave?”

“Aw, but we’re just getting to the good part,”
she protests wickedly. About the movie, I have to assume, because
even though her hand is
there
, we aren’t exactly getting
anywhere, if you know what I mean.

“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing her hand off my lap
and dragging her out of her seat. Her box of Nerds falls out of her
hands. They spill onto the floor, a friggin’ cacophony of little
candies pitter-pattering against cement. The occupants of the first
two rows turn around and look at us.

Infinite, infinite shame.

We hurry out of the theatre and leave through
the back. The cold is so sudden it’s like a slap in the face all
over. Maybe it’s good. Maybe it will wake my brain up. Help me
realize that I should be into this, no matter how close it comes to
scarring scores of kids for life.

And then, out of nowhere, Cora pounces
.
She throws her arms around me, stands up on tiptoe, drives me
backwards ‘til I hit the freezing concrete of the building. She
kisses me hard, all Nerd-flavored and unexpected. The metal of her
lip ring is freezing cold, and even though some may think the whole
piercings thing is a turn-on or whatever, I’m mostly just scared,
because well, okay, it
seems
improbable that she could
somehow rip apart my poor lip flesh with it, but not impossible,
right? Right?? But this, I tell myself, is better than my last
kiss.

“Let’s go back to the car,” I pant.

To my surprise, she doesn’t put up a fight, just
breathlessly says, “Okay.” She darts upward really fast and nips me
on the ear, then turns and skips toward the parking lot.

I’m pretty sure my ear is bleeding. Maybe even
really hard. Maybe she nicked an ear artery.

But it’s not time for a pity party. Or a
legitimate-concern-about-serious-ear-injuries party. I follow her,
forcing myself to quicken my pace. I come to a stop outside the
back door. It’s open, and I lean down and look in to find her
draped across the seat, staring at me with that damn smile. The
McDonald’s stuff has been pushed to the floor already and
everything. In fact, one of the not-quite-empty sweet ‘n sour
sauces is spilling, which, like, I get that my car isn’t a
nice
car, but it’s not like I’m in the habit of making it
less nice by dumping food all over— But that,
that
is not
what I need to be focusing on right now.

I clamber inside, sort of on top of her already
by necessity, and then turn to shut the door. I think I almost knee
her in the face, but she’s not complaining. Since when does Cora
not complain, anyway? Is she possessed? Is she a secret succubus? I
can’t believe Arthur would be lax enough to hire a succubus. Why
the hell
did
he hire this small and bountiful bucket of
crazy?

Why did he do this to me?

She reaches up and clasps her hands behind my
neck, pulling me into kissing her.

Amber always says all this stuff about kissing
and sex, about how technically, it’s unhygienic and ridiculous, and
there must be some sort of magic there, that people are even
capable of looking past how gross they’re being and enjoying it or
thinking it’s so great or whatever. I always figured she was just
saying it to make it okay that her life has always been
kissing-and-sex-free.

But, I don’t know, right here, right now, it’s
like it has some merit. I shove my tongue into Cora’s mouth,
because she shoved her tongue in my mouth and, I dunno, it seems
fair, and all I can think is, like,
excuse me while I lick your
tonsils and enjoy your Nerd remnants
. I don’t know. It’s like
there’s never that – that thing where you get lost, that feeling
that they show in movies by making the music swell and the camera
sweep around. I feel so friggin’
here
. Embarrassingly
unlost.

I should want her more.

I mean, sure, I sort of want her. I’m not
dead
, and she’s writhing all over me.

But I should want her more.

Her fingers traipse down to my pants, take their
time with the button. A damn hallelujah chorus should be bursting
out in my head, but all that’s there is,
Okay. Okay. Let’s do
this.

“Howie?” she breathes into my ear.

“Yeah?” I mumble back.

Her hands abandon my zipper. “Who the fuck are
you kidding, honeybee?”

I pull away. “What?”

She just looks at me. The Cheshire Cat smile is
in full swing.

“What?” I say again
.

Suddenly, I want to be kissing her. Probably
more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss anybody in my life. Bring on the
lip ring, is what I’m saying.

“You are having exactly no fun,” she informs me
matter-of-factly.

“What?? Yes I am! This is the best. This is
way
better than Old Yeller.”

“Yeah, thanks, that’s real sweet,” Cora drawls.
She pushes me off of her and sits up. She crosses her legs all
dainty. Then she levels me with this
look
.

“Buddy, do you need me to tell you something
about yourself?” she says.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I say.
My cheeks feel really hot. My heart is going to quit on me any
second now. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Oh, Howie,” Cora sighs. “Howie, Howie,
Howie.”

“Come on.” I put a hand on her waist, trying to
pull her back to me. “Why’d you stop? Let’s – let’s do this
thing.”

“Honey,” Cora says, brushing me off.
“Please.”

“No,” I insist, “I really think that we should –
that’s to say, I really want to – I –” I give up, because whatever,
actions speak louder than words, right? So I lean in and try to
kiss her neck. I mostly just get hair, but I think I feel skin down
there somewhere. Good. Progress. Now, if we just keep—