Of All the Stupid Things (24 page)

“Good grief Tara, do you feel okay? It’s almost eleven o’clock.”

“I know,” I say, but then look at the clock anyway. “It’s just that I have to tell you something.”

Mom pushes the papers aside and folds her hands on top of the table. “Okay.”

I shift from one foot to the other, then cross my arms and look at her. “I’m seeing someone new.”

Mom’s head tilts slightly. “And you think I’m not going to approve? Is he a Republican?”

I don’t know whether she’ll think that or the truth is worse. I take a deep breath. “It’s Riley.”

Her mouth drops slightly. She blinks a couple times and then swallows. She runs her hands through her auburn tangles and then stops. Very slowly, she pushes herself away from the table. She fills her mug with more hot water. The tea bag she had left in the bottom half floats and turns the water a pale green. Sound asleep, Sherman snorts from under the table.

“So, what does this mean, Tara?” She swishes the tea around. “Are you gay now?”

I unfold my arms and shove my hands into my shorts pockets. That thought had been going around my mind as well. And I don’t know how I feel about it. And I don’t know how it changes those disturbing thoughts of Brent and Sanchez that still come to mind. I don’t know why images of those two bother me so much. I’ve tried changing the costar to anyone other than Sanchez with Brent, especially Whitney Blaire. When I think about Whitney Blaire with Brent I’m overcome with fury. When I think about Sanchez with him, I’m disgusted. I wonder if that makes me a hypocrite, especially since I’m with Riley now. But when I think about Riley and what we’ve done together, I’m overcome with giddiness. The two scenarios are so similar, and yet they make me react so differently.

“I don’t know,” I answer Mom’s question honestly. “But we like each other. Like each other a lot.”

Mom drinks half her tea and makes no motion of having burned her tongue. “This is going to take a while to get used to.”

“I know. For me too.”

Mom nods as she dumps the rest of the tea down the sink. She puts the kettle on again. She throws away the old tea bag and puts a fresh one in the mug. She was drinking Sencha before; now it’s Lapsang Souchong.

Rummaging through the cupboard, she pulls out a bag of cashews. I hear her crunching the nuts as she pops them one by one into her mouth. The kettle whistles and she pours herself a fresh cup of tea. The room fills with the smoky smell as she lets it steep. She wraps her hands around the mug. Steam rises over her face. She takes a few slow sips and then she lowers the mug and finally looks at me.

“Well, the least I can say is that I like Riley better than I liked Brent.”

I let out my breath and smile. “Yeah, me too.”

“And she makes you happy?” Mom watches me closely.

I smile more. “Yeah, she does. Happier than I’ve been in a really long time.”

Mom drinks some more tea and nods a few times. “Good. Good. Real good. That’s the most important thing. And what do your friends say? Have you told them yet?”

My smile disappears. “No, I haven’t told them, but by the way they’re acting I think they already know.”

Mom sets her tea down. “What happened? Is it because of Riley?”

“Yes…No. Well, kind of.” Just thinking about what Whitney Blaire did to me makes me want to scream. I walk to the back door and then return to the table. It takes two steps each way. I feel myself losing control but at the moment I don’t care. “Whitney Blaire is a backstabbing bitch, and I hate myself for hanging out with her for as long as I did. Stupid whore.”

Mom doesn’t say anything. I don’t usually swear, but then again, I don’t usually have my best friend seduce my ex-boyfriend.

I go to the cupboard and pull out the chamomile tea. There’s just enough hot water left in the kettle to fill my mug.

“I’m sorry to hear you two fell out,” Mom finally says. “And what about Pinkie? Or should I not even ask.”

I sigh and slightly shake my head. “No, she’s fine, I guess. I just needed some space from her and her never-ending worrying for a bit. But now that I’m with Riley, she barely looks at me. Now that I’m gay, or whatever I am.”

Mom sets her mug down and looks at me. “It isn’t an easy thing to accept. I’ve always thought I was very open-minded and I’m having a problem getting used to it.”

I don’t say anything. I know she’s right. But at least she’s taking this better than Riley’s parents, who are in denial, and because of it don’t know anything about me yet.

Mom continues. “A lot of other people are going to act strange around you too. Maybe just at first, maybe forever.”

“I know, I know all this.” I take the bag of nuts and grab a handful. I’m usually not so open about my thoughts and actions, but I need to justify them to Mom, to myself. “But I can’t help it. I think I’m in love with Riley. Every part of me is attracted to her. Not just physically, but emotionally and mentally and all those other bits. When I’m with her, everything feels right, and safe. I feel like nothing can go wrong. I’ve never felt that before. Not with Brent, not with anyone.”

Sherman whimpers in his sleep. His nails scratch against the floor as his legs twitch.

“You’ve been hurt badly by the men in your life,” Mom points out. “It’s understandable.”

I swallow a cashew without chewing it. It scratches my throat, but I manage not to choke. “Do you think Dad and Brent made me gay?”

Mom takes her time answering. Her tea is almost finished. “I don’t know, Tara. I just know that you need someone to love and someone you can trust. You haven’t found that in men.”

This time I chew the cashew until it’s butter in my mouth. “I never thought this would happen to me. Riley says she was born gay. But I never liked girls before I met Riley.”

Mom reaches over and squeezes my hand. “So maybe you’re someone who falls in love with a person, not a gender.”

I hadn’t thought about that. I always thought people either liked boys or girls. But I was attracted to Riley from the moment I saw her hair floating behind her. I don’t know if it would have been the same if she had been a guy. Maybe not. Because some of the things I like about Riley are her female attributes.

The thought of Riley’s body makes me blush. It’s all so weird and different, but at the same time it doesn’t feel wrong. And like I told Mom, Riley makes me happy. And like she said, happiness is a good thing.

I let out a breath and squeeze Mom’s hand back. I might not have much of a dad, but I’m lucky to have such an awesome mom.

Whitney Blaire

SOMEONE’S CALLING. I SCRAMBLE AROUND MY NIGHT table for my phone. I squint. It’s David. Again. He’s been calling me so much. This is like the fourth time he’s called today. He seems to think we have something to talk about.

But there’s nothing to talk about. We both got what we wanted, and he should be happy with that. He shouldn’t expect more. I don’t.

And yet he keeps calling. I don’t know what his problem is, probably just hanging around Pink too much.

Pink’s been calling a lot too. I’d like to think David put her up to it, but really, when does Pink need an excuse to use her phone? I’ve sent her regular text messages, just to let her know I am fine. The last thing I need is for Pink to come over here and break in thinking that I’ve been kidnapped or something. Then the alarm would go off and I wouldn’t want to explain to Father why one of my friends was trying to break into the house.

No, it was easier to send Pink those texts saying I was fine, just suffering from cramps. I still don’t know what David told her. I’d like to think Pink would have said something in her messages if she knew. Or maybe she is waiting for me to tell her. Well, she can wait. She’s not going to get anything out of me.

The phone stops ringing, but now it’s beeping to let me know I have messages. I press some buttons to stop the beeping but ignore the messages. I look at the time on the phone. It’s 6:30. I’m not sure if it’s
A
.
M
. or
P
.
M
. The room is just a black hole with the curtains drawn. I can’t see a thing.

I blink a couple more times. There it is, 6:31
P
.
M
. That means Mother will be home soon. Which means I need to raid the kitchen before she comes.

As I stand, I realize how hungry I am. I don’t know when the last time I ate was. Yesterday? When was yesterday? At the moment I have no clue, but it doesn’t matter.

There’s nothing to eat in the fridge. Digging around, I find a Corona Light in the back. I pop that open while I look for something else. Some forgotten chocolate caramels are in a drawer. I chew them and keep moving things around. I finally come across low-carb bagels, some lox, no cream cheese. But there is fat-free veggie dip. That works.

Still chewing the caramels.

Then I head to the pantry. Nothing in there either. I rummage around the shelves until I find some microwave popcorn. Perfect.

With the neck of the Corona between my fingers, I hold the plate with the bagel and the rest of the chocolate caramels. In the other hand, I have the bowl of popcorn. I close my bedroom door just as I hear the garage door open. When Mother calls through the intercom that she is home, I tell her I’m busy with my homework. I lower the volume of the TV and eat another caramel.

The phone rings again. Jeez, David. Lay off will you? I’m getting tired of hearing from you. I press
NO
so that the call goes to voice mail and stops ringing. Thank God. I can’t stand that ring tone anymore. I go online and search for a new one. Doesn’t matter what it is, just one that doesn’t drive me crazy if I hear it a millions times a day. I find one. Some hip-hop boy band I’ve never heard of. That explains why it’s free.

That done, I get back to the TV. At one point Mother’s voice reminds me not to stay up too late studying. By three
A
.
M
. there’s nothing good on anymore. I get my phone and finally listen to the day’s messages. David’s messages. All five of them.

“Hi Whitney, it’s David. Where are you? Call me back, will you?”

I press a button. The robotic voice tells me it’s deleted and goes on to the next message.

“It’s David again. Hey, are we still on for tonight?”

I turn the phone in my hand then delete the message.

“Whitney, I’m getting worried. Can you please call me?”

No hesitation to delete that one.

“I just talked to Pinkie and she doesn’t know where you are. I’m thinking of calling your mom. Are you okay—?”

Delete before he finishes.

“Whitney, I know when I’ve been forwarded to your voice mail. If this is some kind of sick joke, you suck.”

I press the delete button one last time and throw the phone across the room.

I don’t know what time it is when I get woken up. At first I think it’s David screaming at me, but then I realize it’s Mother through the intercom.

“Darling, are you in the bathroom? Can you hear me? I’m leaving now. Is your little friend driving you to school today, or do you need me to take you?” She waits a few seconds and speaks again. “Darling, speak up. I can’t hear you.”

I roll out of bed and shuffle over to the intercom. Whoever’s brilliant idea it was to install the intercom all the way on the other side of the room right next to the door is going to die. I press the button and talk. “Yeah, I’m fine. Pink should be here in a few minutes.”

“All right, darling, have fun at school. I’ll see you this evening. I shouldn’t be too late. Your father is back from San Diego tonight. Don’t forget to turn off your curling iron before you go. Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, fine. Bye.” I let go of the button and shuffle back to bed. I trip over the phone on the floor. I pick it up and send Pink a text:
STL SIK BT DNT WORY C U L
8
R
. Then I pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep.

Pinkie