Pieces of Paisley (6 page)

She holds up her finger signaling for me to give her a minute, and I am about to put my foot so far up her ass she will speak Skecher. Finally, she is under control, until she sees me so pissed off and starts all over again. I light another cigarette and wait, yet again.

“You honestly believe no guy is interested in you? Have you seen a mirror? Paisley, you are fucking beautiful. You have this aura of not being interested, and they are scared to fucking death of you. Boys don’t like rejection. You are clueless.”

“Are you done with the compliments? I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Get in the car, and think about it.”

“Is your description a nice way of calling me a closed-off bitch?”

“Nope, if I thought you were a closed off bitch I would tell you. I just think you are above a lot of the petty high school stuff. Boys aren’t your thing, you have this calm about you . . . wise beyond your years is what your mom says. I don’t know how to explain it, but you don’t waste your time on things that don’t mean something to you. You care, too much sometimes, and that is why you think and rethink every decision. You are afraid to experience pain, hurt, and rejection . . . all normal things. But you refuse to put yourself in a situation you will have to confront those feelings, so you disengage. That is why I warned you to be careful. If you put yourself out there for Jake, it matters to you. Just how much or in what capacity is something only you can answer.”

I mull over her answer and just can’t wrap my head around why I let my guard down and confronted this thing with Jake. “Hey Krista, don’t you ever miss just watching cartoons and eating ice cream until we puked. Things were so easy without hormones, boys, men, and the fucking Naval Academy all up in my grill.”

“Oh my Paisley is growing up. Next thing you know I will be buying you a ‘Good-bye V Card’ cookie and sending you off to school on your own.”

“Why are we friends again?” I am trying to come up with one good reason.

“Because you love me.” Yep, that is the only reason I need.

“I do.” We make it home only eight minutes late and go through our ritual of getting ready for bed, and then the dreaded Mom conversation happens. Every night like clockwork.

“Don’t forget tomorrow is Sunday. Family dinner, no exceptions.” She reminds us, just like every other week.

“We know, Lily.” She hates when I call her by her first name, but I love it. She just shakes her head at me.

“Trouble maker.” She laughs at me.

“Learned from the best.”

“Did you girls have fun tonight?” Both Krista and I start giggling like we did when we glued my step dad’s beer to the refrigerator shelf last month. He never wanted a Budweiser so bad until he couldn’t get one.

“Paisley kissed Jake.” And here comes her gift of gab.

If looks could kill she would be dead. That may still be an option.

My mom is trying to hide her snickering behind her hand, but discreet is not in her vocabulary. “Who is Jake?”

“Chad’s friend. The one I told you about last night.” Shut up, Krista. Neither of them pays attention to me plotting their murder, and they continue with their conversation.

“Is he cute?”

“To die for. Yumalicious”

“Is he nice?”

“Not so much. She told him he had ass-holism syndrome.”

“Oh, one of those. Most men don’t know better.” Seriously, I am sitting right fucking here. “Do you want to invite the boys over tomorrow for dinner?” Did she just call them boys?

“Uh, probably not. Remember I told you they are older . . .” Ah, what’s wrong Krista? Your words aren’t flowing so much now with the thought of being busted.

“Didn’t you say they were twenty, honey?” Oh, good one, Mom. Gain her trust with your false concern. I beg Krista telepathically not to fall for it.

“They are twenty.” Hope my cell phone is charged because I will be calling 9-1-1 in just a second when my mother keels over from heart failure. Last night it didn’t seem like such a big deal to her, because it was a remote possibility. Now she is faced with it being a fact, and she is still trying to be the cool, hip mom.

“I see. Well that isn’t terrible. You are eighteen and Paisley is sixteen going on twenty-five.” Did hell just freeze over? I think I may need the ambulance because clearly I am going insane thinking I heard what I just did.

I can’t take it anymore. “Night-night. Conversation over. No guests for dinner, no kissing discussion, no discussion at all. Get out, going to bed now, and I want to pretend this whole tete a tete didn’t happen.”

“Oh Paisley, calm down. It was a kiss.” My mother says, so clinically and matter of fact.

“Yes, I know. I was there. So were my lips, and my tongue. Now I am done with this conversation.” I climb under the covers and flip over so my back is towards them. I would like to fall asleep thinking about Jake, but instead I am thinking of how my capabilities in picking friends is seriously lacking, and how I must have been stolen at birth because anyone can see this family and I don’t mesh. Mind your business, people.

I hear the door shut and then Krista, in her sweet sing-song voice, “Night, Pais. Love you.”

“Fuck you, Krista.”

“You know they say never to go to bed mad.”

“That is in marriage and relationships, and right now I am reconsidering the
relationship
we have.”

“You love me.”

“Like a dog loves fleas. Shut up, Krista. I love you, go to bed, and no more speaking tonight.” I hear her sigh and get comfortable and thankfully not another sound.

I wake up not knowing how I feel about the events of last night. I really like kissing Jake, and I really like being around him, but what does that mean? I asked him last night if it was worth finding out, now it is time I use that advice on myself. Hurrying through the morning so we can get to the beach, I continuously tell myself it is because I want the sand, sun, and surf with a side of Jake’s lips. Having to tell myself he is secondary on my rush to get out of the house isn’t doing much to make myself believe it.

“You aren’t going to put on make-up?”

“No, mom, we are going to the beach.”

“Aren’t you going to see this Jake-boy?”

“Krista, come on. The faster you get out here the quicker I can clean your blood off the floor because I am about to gut you.” I grab my keys and walk outside.

When Krista opens the door, I hear my mom yell, “Don’t forget about dinner tonight, and invite your friends.”

Krista is looking at me biting her lip, not moving towards me. “Oh for fuck’s sake, get in the car, I am not going to kill you.”

She beams at me, kisses me on the cheek as she jumps in my Jeep, and we continue on to the beach. As we get closer, my heart picks up speed and my palms are about to slip off the steering wheel because they are sweating so badly. I keep telling myself that it is no big deal. My head and my stomach aren’t agreeing.

“Pais, breathe. Go with your gut.”

“Well then we need to pull over and empty it because right now it is revolting every mile we go.”

“You have it bad.” She almost sounds far away, and when I steal a quick glance at her, I can tell she is remembering. She has the telltale signs with her eyes staring but not focused and her eyes are watery. I let her remember in silence.

She takes a deep breath, “I am almost jealous you are experiencing this. I miss it, that anxious yet calm feeling. The questions in your mind asking yourself if it was as good as you remember, what if he ignores you, but yet wanting to feel what you felt last night so bad you want to throw caution to the wind and speed to get to him faster. Enjoy it, Paisley. Revel in the feeling, you never know when it will be taken away.”

Before I can comfort her with some sort of inadequate words, she flips the radio and ‘The Best Days of Your Life’ by Kellie Pickler comes blaring through, and we both sing as loud we can, and it is amazing how one song can have so many different meanings for each person. I don’t realize our mini-karaoke session is still going on and we are sitting in the driveway and Jake, Chad, Kara, and Toby are all on the deck watching and listening.

When the song ends and I hear whistles and clapping, I am mortified. I am about three seconds away from throwing this bitch in reverse when I glance up and see him. Smiling, laughing, and thoroughly amused.

“Embrace it, Pais. Just go with it.” Krista whispers and hops out. I am still contemplating leaving, and she can find her own way home when I see him descending the steps. He comes to a stop right by my door and gazes at me.

“You getting out or planning an encore?” I can’t look at him. I want to slide down and hope my seat swallows me. I immediately pull the ends of my hair into my mouth and feel my face on fire. I am beyond embarrassed. He pulls my hair out of my mouth, opens my door and tells me, “Don’t quit your day job, beautiful.” With those six words I let it go. I throw my head back and laugh and before I can get myself untangled from my seat he has pulled me out and against his chest.

My nervousness is gone; this is as natural as breathing. I look up at him, and he bends down and grazes his lips against mine, “Was that so hard?”

“What?” I missed something.

“Giving me a proper hello. I’ve been waiting since last night to see you again.” I grab his face and pull him down. I slam my lips into his, no finesse whatsoever, he bites down on my bottom lip and our tongues barely touch, but it is enough to ignite me. Before I get carried away with an audience, I pull back.

“Good Morning, Jake.”

“I could get used to this.”

“Me, too. That is what I am afraid of.”

“One day at a time, beautiful.” I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. My new mantra is going to be one day at a time. “Come on, let’s get you to the beach.” He already knows that is my favorite place.

“Can you play nice today?”

“If I do, can I get a treat?”

“All good things come to those who wait.” I grab my beach bag and run towards the sand. The day passes quickly and to my surprise no angry outbursts. He doesn’t play much volleyball, though, because he is too busy bitching about my swimwear. I about lose it when he asks me if my parents know what I wear at the beach.

Krista interjects, “You were invited for family dinner, and you can ask them then.” Contemplating murder, yet again.

If it weren’t so horrific I would find Jakes reaction funny. He has gone a nice shade of gray and green mixed. A mixture of passing out and throwing up. I put him out of his misery.

“I told her no.”

“They know about me?”

“Uh, yep. Thank Ms. Clearly-doesn’t-know-when-to-shut-the-fuck-up over there. After telling my mommy I kissed a boy and those two gossiping like school girls, my mom invited you boys to dinner.”

“Paisley, this could be bad. Our age.”

“She knows.” I don’t understand why I feel sad that he doesn’t jump with joy my mom is actually okay with this. “She says Krista is eighteen, and I am like a twenty-five year old, so she wasn’t concerned.” Why am I basically begging him to be okay with us? We are a few hours into this whatever-we-are and already I feel like I have done something wrong.

When he still doesn’t respond, I feel the sting of tears in my eyes. I grab all my stuff and throw it in my bag. The good thing about having a friend who can read you so well? Krista is already packed and waiting on me. I am almost to the Jeep when I hear him shouting my name. I ignore the part of me saying to turn around. I throw my bag in the back, and jump in the driver’s seat. I have the key in the ignition and I see him on the walkway. I crank it up and start to reverse when I realize Krista isn’t in the car yet. Damn it all to hell.

“Stop,” he pleads with me.

I won’t look at him. I won’t acknowledge him. I am being such a girl about to bawl over a few hours old relationship. A couple of kisses, some positive attention, and I turn into a real idiot.

“What did I do? You ran off without a word.” Is he seriously joking right now?

“Just trying to avoid an awkward conversation that started with ‘Sorry, Paisley, it isn’t you, it is me.’ Is there anything else you need to cover?”

“Shit, Paisley, you can’t just run off and not talk to me about what you are thinking. I didn’t react the way you wanted me to, sorry, but that bit of news was huge. I am trying to work this out in my mind, our age difference, me being in the Navy, those ramifications in itself are huge. I find out your parents know, you assure me they are okay with it, and I am still in shock.”

“I don’t want to be something you are trying to ‘work out in your mind.’ I want to be more than a problem or obstacle you have to find ways around.”

“You are. But it has been a minute since you set my world on fire, and regardless of what you want to believe there are obstacles. In every aspect of life, that doesn’t mean we can’t work our way around them, but give me a minute.”

“I have to go.” He looks at me once and is about to speak. Instead he turns around, walks up the stairs without a word. He turns to look down at me, and I won’t give him anything. No emotion, no feeling, I have nothing to give. I see him punch the side of the house, and I jump in my seat.

“Now, Krista.” I tell her noticing the tremble in my voice. Once she shuts her door I pull out on the road. “Not a word, not now.” And for once, she listens.