Want (25 page)

He wants me
.

There it is. The thought I’ve avoided all night—three simple words imbued with a complexity I don’t understand. I mean, there’ve been hints off and on, but nothing concrete. Nothing I could absolutely put my finger on…or taste.

I shut off the water, grab a towel, and dress for bed. I almost forget my glass of water for my nightly infusion of Merck and Pfizer chemicals. Wouldn’t want to go into withdrawal. I open the door and shriek.

R.J. stands with his hand raised like he’s about to knock. “Um, sorry?”

“R.J., you scared the crap out of me!” I whack him on the arm.

“Sorry, Sis, you were in there a hell of a long time, and I need to get to bed early.” He peeks past me into the bathroom. “Did you use all the hot water? It’s a sauna in there.”

“Do you mind?” I brush past him and walk into my room, stopping in front of my mirror to grab a hair pick off the vanity.

R.J. leans against the
door frame
. A little too casually, he says, “Hey, I was in the backyard this afternoon and saw Isaac Laroche peel out of here like his ass was on fire. You know anything about that?”

I slam the comb on the vanity. “Yes, R.J. I lit his ass on fire. Happy?”

I stick out my tongue and continue to pick through my tangle of wet hair. It’s grown out pretty fast since the
chop-chop
. R.J. hesitates,
then
disappears into the bathroom.

“Damn, girl! You
did
use all the hot water!”

***

Cold night air penetrates the antique, wavy-glass windows of my bedroom, so I bundle up under a couple of layers of sheets and blankets. But then I feel smothered and throw them off. And then I’m cold again.
Ugh
. The clock says
one-twenty-two
a.m., but I haven’t slept a wink.

He kissed me back. Sure, he said I sounded like Mama and pushed me away, but that was after. After he tugged my hair. After he smashed his mouth and tongue into mine.

I doze off, then jolt awake. If I do audition, what happens if Mama shows up? What if I go stark raving mad and scare the judges? I already have a date set. Daddy scheduled those days off work to take me, we’ve booked the hotel room, plane tickets, and we have the pieces picked out and arranged. It’s a done deal.

But, my shoulder.
What are you really afraid of?

Sometime toward dawn, I dream about armless mannequins who lurch at me as I run through the neighborhood at dusk. I’m trapped in a dead-end alley and spin around, panting, expecting the mannequins to close in on me. They change into the ladies from the Mystics, waving their hats and leering at me with gaping, over-lipsticked mouths.

I wake up with the blankets and pillows on the floor. I shiver and my shoulder is stiff. I pull the white bedspread back up and wrap myself like a cocoon.

I should be thinking about whether or not I’m going to audition, but there’s only one question on my lips—
What am I going to say to him?

Chapter Fifteen

Sunday afternoon, R.J. heads back to school, and it’s
just me and Daddy in the house
again. I might as well live alone. He’s sometimes here in the evenings, but many nights he calls to say he’ll be late. He visits Mama. I want to hold it against him, but I can’t. I just wish he paid as much attention to me as he does to her.

The Friday before the audition, Daddy comes home a little early and insists we go out to eat.

“Your pick, Juli.”

I’m tempted to give him directions to Felix’s, just to mess with him and see what he does, but I’d like to keep that a secret, sacred place. We end u
p at a little Creole eatery in M
idtown. They have really great gumbo that warms your insides on chilly nights.

Daddy fidgets with his menu and sighs a lot. The waitress takes the hint and finally comes to take our order.

I get the gumbo and sweet tea. I’m working on my second glass when he drums his fingers on the table. I raise an eyebrow at him and he stops. A minute later, the table shakes. I look underneath and see he’s bouncing his leg up and down.

“I’m going to take a stab in the dark here and say something is wrong?”

The table stops shaking. “What? Yeah. Um…I need to discuss something with you. Need to tell you that…see, something came up at work.”

Daddy usually doesn’t have a problem speaking his mind or making excuses about work—he’s a lawyer after all and makes his living arguing with people—but he’s really flustered tonight. Whatever it is, he’s scared to tell me.

“Okay. What’s going on?”

“Don’t get upset or make a scene, because it really doesn’t affect anything. Everything will still go as planned.” He twists his glass around and around on the table, tearing the wet napkin underneath.

“What will go as planned?”

“Here’s the deal. Your audition is in a week, and we were going to spend some time, you and me, in Boston, but there’s this case…”

I feel my blood pool in my feet. All the gumbo in the world can’t warm me now.

We can’t go? I can’t go? Can’t audition?

“Oh, no. Don’t do this to me, Daddy.”

After all that’s happened in the last month, I want to be the one to make the decision about whether or not to audition. Having my mind made up for me makes me realize how much I still want to do it. Want to try. And how much I resent Daddy.

“I’ll go by myself,” I say. “I’m almost eighteen. I can’t rent a car, but I can get a cab from the airport to the hotel. I’ll—”

“No, sweetie, that’s not it. You don’t have to go alone. I just can’t be the one to go with you.” He sighs and leans back in his chair. He still won’t look me in the eye.

“Oh. Well.” I relax a bit. “Can R.J. come? I thought he had a big project due that week.”

“He does. It’s not him. I asked someone else to go with you.
An obvious choice, really.
I know you two have had words lately,” he says, “but I’m not crazy about sending you into the city alone. And I’m certainly not asking that Dave Gaston to watch over you while you’re there. I know how that would end.”

I’m too stunned for words.
He can’t mean…

“I asked Isaac Laroche to accompany you. It makes sense since he just came from Boston and knows his way around. He even knows the campus. Hell, he probably knows the people on the panel. Maybe he can put in a good word for you.” He continues before I interrupt. “Now, I know you two have argued lately, and you may not be on the best of terms, but he’s the obvious choice and I trust him. I offered to pay for his hotel room, and he can have my plane ticket. I’ll give you plenty of money for food and cab fare and…”

I don’t hear the rest of what he says. He could tell me zombies have invaded the restaurant and I wouldn’t care. I’m going to Boston with Isaac. Alone. And Daddy thinks we’ve had “a few arguments” and Dave’s the one to watch out for. He’s got it totally backward. For once, I’m glad he’s so clueless.

It takes all of my acting abilities to keep a straight face. “You’re right, Daddy. I’m sorry you can’t come, but it’s true. Isaac knows Boston really well, and he’ll be glad to see his alma mater again.” I pat Daddy’s hand for emphasis. “Even if he does have to tote around a whiny teenager. Maybe he can pretend I’m his little sister.”

I giggle. Daddy gives me a funny look but smiles in return. Behind him, Mama shakes her head.

I call Dave with the news as soon as Daddy and I return from dinner.

Silence.

Then…“Ho-ly shit! I bet Ike’s grinning like the Cheshire
Cat
. No, wait. Knowing him, he’s pacing around his house. ‘
I must be responsible. I must not have fun. This is serious business
.’ I can hear him now.”

I flop back on my bed and laugh at Dave’s impression. He’s probably right. Across town, I hope Isaac’s in the throes of a panic attack.

“Daddy mentioned you, too. Said he didn’t trust you to watch over me.”

“Oh, I’d watch over you.
All
of you.”

“He thought the same thing.”

“And he didn’t about Ike? Is he blind?”

“Um, well…he doesn’t think Isaac thinks of me that way.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. He thinks we’ve been arguing.”

“Uh-oh.”

“We
did
argue...”

“And?”

“And I slapped him. And hit him in the stomach. And there may be a kamikaze plant involved.”

He groans. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“And then I bit him.”

“…”

“On the lip.”

“…”

“And then he bit me back.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone.

“What am I going to do with you, Stella?”

“I was hoping you’d still be my friend? I understand if you say no.”

“Aw, kitten, you know I can’t say no to you. I’ll still be your friend.”

I let out a gust of air, unaware I’d held my breath the whole time.

“So,” he continues in a breathy falsetto, “what are you going to
wear
?”

“Um, I hadn’t really thought about it. Just what I usually wear with the orchestra, I guess. Black shirt, black pants.”

“Oh, no, this won’t do! How about one of those long, flowy black skirts that all the hipsters wear, but then
whammo
! You hit ’em with black thigh-highs underneath. The kind with the stripe up the back…”

“Ahem.”

“And stilettos…”

“
Dave.
”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“…”

“Hellooo?”

“Yeah. Gimme a sec. I’m playing it in my head, and it’s good. Really good.”

“Dave!”

“What? Oh. What were we talking about?”

“Goodbye, Dave.”

“No, wait! I wanted to ask you about your plans while you’re up here. I have to work Friday, then I’ve got a family thing I can’t get out of that night, but I was hoping to show you around Saturday.”

“What, I’m not good enough to meet your family?” I’m mostly kidding. Mostly.

“No, actually—”

“It’s fine. Saturday’s fine. I’ll probably be too tired and spastic to do anything Friday night anyway.”

“Whatever you want, kitten.
And good luck.
I know you’ll do great. And if you don’t, well, that’s what the thigh-highs are for.”

“You’re such a hornball!”

“Bye!”

I roll onto my side and stare at my closet door.
What
am
I going to wear?
Black pants and shirt, definitely. I need to be comfortable. Maybe some kick-ass boots. No, we’ll be doing a lot of walking. Definitely keep it comfortable.
Just…comfortable.

Do I even own a pair of thigh-highs? No! No.

This is a business trip. The most important one I’ll ever take. I really need to focus and get my head out of the gutter. If I screw up this audition, if my shoulder doesn’t cooperate, if the panel isn’t impressed, if I don’t get in, if I have to stay around Mobile, if, if, if… My head spins.

I open my closet and paw through the hangers. I find what I’m looking for.
A black gauzy shirt with a low, draped collar and three-quarter sleeves.
Black dress pants. Behind those is the blue dress I wore to the symphony the night of Isaac’s guest performance. What a perfect night that was, when things were just a little less complicated. When I thought we were mostly just friends, and the only thing that really mattered to me was getting into the NEC. I open my sock drawer and find a pair of respectable black patterned trouser socks to go with my respectable (boring) shoes.

I’ve made my decision. Now that my anger has subsided, I decide I won’t further complicate my life by mooning over a guy when I should be focusing on fulfilling a lifelong dream. I’ve worked too hard to mess up now.

Yeah, right.

I flop back down on my bed and stare at the ceiling until the sun fades and shadows creep across the walls.

***

Monday morning comes too soon, and I have to go back to school. It’s just as bad as I thought it’d be. I’m given a wide berth in the halls, and even my teachers avoid me. By the time I’ve finished physical therapy and stepped into my other therapist’s office, I’m drained. I so don’t want to deal with this right now. There’s a rose-scented bubble bath calling my name, but first I have to survive this, and then face Isaac.

The room is softly lit and reminds me of a man-cave, complete with dark paneled walls, a soft leather couch, and a coffee table covered in two-year-old issues of
Sports Illustrated
and
Psychology Today
. It smells of burnt coffee and Old Spice. I settle into the cushions and wait my turn. The door to the inner office opens a crack, and I hear Dr. Jordan’s muffled voice.