The Opposite of Love (11 page)

25

CHASE

Chase left early for school the next morning. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and thought. He'd never in his life talked to anyone the way he talked to Rose. He felt kind of guilty for making Walter sound so bad. He wasn't
all
bad. Chase had a handful of positive memories too.

A week after his fifth birthday, Walter let Chase sit up front with him while they drove down the long road to Lake Casitas. Just the two of them. Walter bought a bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos, trail mix, and a big Cherry Slurpee for the drive. Chase kept digging his hand into that Cheetos bag until his fingers were coated in red crumbs and his mouth was on fire. He'd sucked his fingers one at a time and then brushed the rest off on his shorts.

Before they'd left, Candy had tossed out to Walter, “Keep it dry today, Walt, okay? You got precious cargo.”

Walter had grunted but agreed. And true to his word, he didn't crack open a single beer.

They stood in the lake, water up to their knees, jeans rolled up to the thigh, and waited. The water sparkled dark green, and he could see little fish darting here and there as if they were nibbling at his toes. They didn't talk, he and Walter, not for hours, but it didn't matter. The whole day was the closest to heaven Chase had ever been. He could almost forget the bruise on his left hip, from when Walter shoved him against the coffee table the night before.

At the end of the day, both their noses and the backs of their necks were sunburned, but it didn't matter. Chase didn't catch a darn thing, and Walter only got one scrawny pike and threw it back, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except being with his dad.

Two days later, as Candy set Top Ramen and thawed chicken nuggets on the table, she broke the big news. “Walt, I got to tell you something I know you're not gonna like.”

Walter tossed his tenth beer into the trash—and missed. It clattered onto the floor, and drops of Corona splattered the floor with the impact. “Well, spit it out. I'm not gonna be any happier if you fart around forever trying to tell me. What, did you overdraw the account again?”

Chase put down his fork and braced himself for a mad dash to his bedroom closet, where he could hide behind his Christmas sweater.

“No.” Her voice sounded soft, like maybe if she spoke quietly, his reaction would be quiet too. “I'm pregnant. About four months.”

After a beat or two of digestion, Walter let out a roar that could rival a bear and shoved the table over, sending hot Top Ramen flying against the wall. Chase scrambled out of the way and raced to his room. He threw himself to the floor and crawled under the bed. He pressed his hands so hard against his ears that he almost felt like he was underwater.

He could hardly hear the yelling, the crashing, the screaming. He could hardly feel the welt on his arm, where the scalding Top Ramen had splashed onto his skin. He could pretend he was a giant shark, swimming deep in the ocean, not afraid of anything. A shark could bite Walter's head right off his body.

Chase didn't venture out until after the final slam of the front door and the sound of Walter's truck revving up and taking off. He slid out on his belly, hearing whimpering.

Candy lay curled on the kitchen floor like a dying roly-poly, crying. Chase placed his hand on her shoulder, and she shoved him away with a yelp, like he was Walter rather than his five-year-old self. He flew back from her push and landed square on his tailbone. Chase felt his lower lip folding under like a baby's, and he cried. Cried so hard he couldn't hear Candy any more. Cried so many tears he blurred his vision of her. So he almost didn't see it when she eased herself up off the floor, her left arm hanging stiff.

He tried not to hear it when Candy told him to run next door and get Mrs. Sheridan to drive her to the ER. Said she needed an X-ray. And an ultrasound. And he definitely didn't want to hear it when she said she was going to lose the baby.

Mrs. Sheridan let Chase borrow some of her son's video game collection, and Chase stayed glued to the television screen for the next few days. He played until his eyes blurred over and then he played some more. People came in and out of the apartment, and although he didn't lift his eyes from the screen, he knew who they were. Mrs. Sheridan checked on Candy, who had been released from the hospital with a broken arm … but still pregnant.

Walter returned to the house with his shoulders hunched. He walked silently through the rooms, pouring every bit of alcohol down the sink. He found a new church and started going every day. He left the house only for confession and work. He sat next to Chase on the couch and stared at the video screen, but he didn't say a word.

Walter didn't drink a drop of alcohol from that moment until a few months after Daisy was born. Once everyone saw Daisy was okay—no dent in the forehead or misshapen body parts—things sort of slipped back. It started off small with little put-downs and irritations, but before Chase knew it, Walter was back to drinking like a fish and smashing windshields with baseball bats, never mind his kids who were still sitting inside the car.

Chase sat down on a bench a block away from school. He rested his head in his hands. Maybe thinking about all these things wasn't so good. The memories made him feel sick. But being with Rose, talking to Rose, made him feel safe in ways he'd never felt before. There was something in his chest that swelled when he was around her. Or when he thought of her. A bubbly, full feeling. He'd never felt it before in his life.

And she seemed to feel safe too. He'd been taking her lead on everything physical, because 1) it seemed like the right thing to do; 2) she was clearly more experienced in these things than he was; and 3) once things got physical, he didn't trust himself to think clearly. It was better to let her take the lead. Hopefully she had better control of her impulses than he did of his.

26

ROSE

Rose remembered a time when she thought sex would set off firecrackers in her brain, sparklers in her heart, and dynamite between her legs. Mostly it did nothing of the sort. Mostly, she didn't see what the big deal was. The biggest problem with it, in her book, was that if you had sex with a guy once, he was no longer satisfied with just rolling around and kissing. The guy just expected to have sex with you every time there was an available bed or a parked car. It was like once you passed through that door, there was no going back.

To be honest, “giving it up” so easily never really felt right to her. It was nothing like what her real mother had done, she told herself every time. Mostly she believed it. The thing was, she could have pissed off the Parsimmons even without having sex because they just assumed she was doing it long before she ever actually did. Despite their Christian upbringing, they'd put her on birth control pills when she'd barely turned twelve. Rose figured they'd have neutered her if it was legal.

But actually the birth control was what made her decide to go ahead and do it that first time. Why not? She already had to take a tiny pill every morning. She might as well get the fun out of it too, right? Only it wasn't fun. Her first time was horrible. Like some surgical procedure or medical experiment.

It felt like the guy was shoving his whole arm up inside her, over and over again until her insides felt raw. She bled a little, and it hurt to pee for three days. Not to mention that the guy was a total jerk about it. He told everyone else on the sophomore baseball team and then never talked to her again.

She felt dirty after too. She took about eight showers that night. She wondered if that was how her mom had felt every time after she turned a trick. Her mother must have found a way to turn it off in her head. In a weird way, “doing it” made Rose feel tougher, harder, and that felt good.

But when she decided to have sex with Chase, it was totally different. Tender. Slow. Considerate. He let her tell him exactly what to do so that it would feel good. He checked to see if she was okay. She wondered if it might have been his first time, but she didn't ask. He held her for a long time afterward, his body warm against hers. She leaned her head against his chest and could feel the beating of his heart. He ran his fingers through her hair. Over and over again. She matched her breathing to his and let her body melt. There they lay for a long time, until they both fell asleep.

As Rose drifted off, she realized something. For the first time since she left her mother, she felt two things. Safe and loved.

27

CHASE

Now Chase understood vampires. Thirsting after the forbidden once they'd had their first taste.

Because after he and Rose did it the first time, he craved her more than ever before. The worst was anytime he could see her but couldn't touch her. Like at work. Chase ached to brush past her, to get close enough to smell her hair, to see how neatly she could fit in his arms. Because Chase didn't trust his hands to behave themselves, he kept them in his pockets as much as possible. Wait until tonight, he reminded himself, wait until tonight.

Not that they had sex every night. Rose had made that very clear. She would decide when they did and did not have sex. He would not expect it or even ask for it. He didn't argue.

So far, they still mostly talked. And cuddled. Rose brought him a charcoal sketch or a piece of her poetry nearly every night. Before long, his left wall was covered with different artistic offerings from Rose, each tacked up side by side. And then every three or four days, she'd initiate something more.

After work, Chase watched Rose walk away, hanging back behind Mrs. Parsimmon, swaying her hips as she walked—runway style. “Come on, Rose. We don't have all day,” Mrs. P. threw back toward her, barely turning. Rose stiffened up for a moment, like she was afraid to be caught. Then flipped her head around to glance at Chase. She winked and slowed her pace even more.

“You have it bad.” Becca elbowed him as she passed by. “You're whipped.”

“Shut up,” Chase told her, grinning. “Hey, what are you guys having for dinner?”

Becca turned around long enough to roll her eyes. “Can't you at least pretend you want to come over to see my brother? Ever since this whole Rose-is-a-goddess phase of yours, it's like you forgot he exists.”

Chase shook his head. “Guys are more mature than girls. We don't have to spend every waking hour together to convince each other we're friends.” Chase followed her footsteps. “You think your mom'll make that sweet noodle thing?”

“It's called kugel.”

“Yeah, kugel. The one with the brown sugar and butter melted on the bottom of the pan?”

“Doesn't your own mother feed you?”

“Not like yours.” Becca was wrong. He couldn't wait to talk to Daniel. Okay … brag a little. He was having sex with Rose Parsimmon, after all. One of the hottest girls at school. But also, just to talk.

When Chase arrived at the Stein house, he found Daniel in the backyard under a big, leafy tree that made shade like an umbrella. The April sun shone strong, even this late in the day, revving itself up for summer. Daniel's hands were pressed together in front of his heart, prayer-like. Eyes closed. Daniel stood on one leg, the other leg wrapped around the first. Chase tried not to laugh. “What are you, a freaking stork?”

Daniel didn't move a muscle. He opened one eye. “This is tree pose.”

Chase edged closer. “What would happen if I took my little finger and gave you a teeny, weeny push?”

Daniel jumped back, hopping from foot to foot like a little kid who had to pee. Then he leaped onto Chase's back, arms around his neck, Ultimate Wrestling-style. Chase flipped him around and pinned him to the ground. Daniel struggled for a minute and then laughed. “This is why we'd never be partners if we went out for the wrestling team. They'd never match the one-thirties with the two hundreds. No sport in that.”

“Right on. Besides, I'd never go out for wrestling. Couldn't handle those tights.” Chase let him up, knocking his head playfully. He could feel the beating of his own heart from the minor exertion, and it reminded him of the way his heart raced with Rose. So he told his best friend about what was, so far, the highlight of his life.

Daniel socked him in the arm, first thing. “All right, bro! You're a member of the club! What a birthday present!” Chase's seventeenth birthday was three weeks away. “I feel like I should buy you a cigar or something.”

“That's okay.” Chase tried not to smile too wide. “No cigar necessary. Even though I always like a little throat cancer to start off my day … ”

And once it was out there, Chase felt all puffed up and proud, but he also felt something else he couldn't put his finger on. He looked around the yard to make sure no one else was listening. “So once again, I'm officially a sinner.” He shrugged, kind of sheepish. It sounded pretty lame.

“Hey, bro.” Daniel held up his hand. “Are you stressing about that?”

“I'm not stressing,” Chase lied, scuffing his feet against the loose soil around the tree. “Just getting your religious take. You're the only Jewish Buddhist I know. Has anyone ever told you that you're a goddamn original?”

Daniel put his hand down. “Not really. Haven't you ever heard of Jubu?” Chase shook his head no. “That's a Jew who practices Buddhist meditation and spirituality.” He paused. “I'm nowhere near as unique as I seem. Although, did I tell you I was thinking of gauging my ears?”

Chase looked at him straight in the eye, no hint of a smile. “If you gauge your ears, I will be forced to stop hanging out with you in public.”

Daniel met his gaze. “You've pretty much already done that.” He lasted a whole minute, unblinking, before the smile wriggled free. “Between your job and your girl, you're a busy guy. You've got to schedule me in.”

“Sorry, bro. You're almost as cute as Rose, but not quite. Maybe if you highlighted your hair … ” Chase teased. He shrugged and touched a pile of gardening tools with his foot. Half joking, he said, “So now I'm officially going to hell—if I wasn't already.”

Daniel smiled. “Isn't that what confession's for?”

“I haven't been to confession in years. Maybe I should go.”

“Listen, Chase.” Daniel looked like he was preparing to channel Buddha himself. “Did it feel like a sin?”

Chase couldn't help but smile. “It felt like a goddamn miracle.”

So why couldn't he just enjoy it and shake the guilt?