Dad finds a cashier and
we hurry to his car, parked
in the garage at the far
casino. Round and round,
down to the exit. Straight
down Sierra Street to
McCarran, Reno’s major
loop road. Speed limit
or under all the way
(a good idea, all things
considered), we limp
into the parking lot, looking
exactly like we’ve stayed
up all night, at nine forty-
seven. Everyone’s inside.
Everyone, that is, except
Mom.
I Don’t Think
I’ve ever seen her so pissed,
and believe me, I’ve seen
her pissed before. But nothing
like this. She lights into us
before we reach the door.
Nice of you to show up
for your own baby’s baptism,
Kristina Georgia. I can believe
something like this from him….
spittle foams at the corners
of her mouth. But not from you.
Where the hell have you been?
Dad jumps in with a monster-
fueled lie about car trouble,
dead cell phone batteries, and
more. He looks like crap
and I know I can’t look much
better, but no time to worry
about that now. “Can we talk
about this later? I imagine
everyone’s waiting for us.”
And, of course, they totally
are. Baptisms usually happen
before the sermon, but Pastor
Keith wisely forged ahead,
assuming [praying] Hunter’s
wayward mother would
appear sooner or later.
All eyes turn as we come
through the door, and I know
every single pair must ascertain
exactly what the problem is.
Better not to think about that.
Leigh has saved Mom and me
seats up front. Dad and Linda Sue
sit at the back of the sanctuary.
Somehow, we maintain
when they call the baptismal
party up to the font, repeat
a flurry of meaningless
words. Resplendent in
his white tuxedo, Hunter
smiles up at me as Pastor
Keith pours water over
his head, makes him a child
of God. I was baptized once
too, and I silently ask, “So,
Big Guy, am I still Your child?”
Party Time
Well, actually, it’s time
for the postbaptism reception.
I decide I ought to ride home with
Mom, who decides not to get into a
big discussion now, not with Leigh and
Heather in the car and a regular parade of
friends and family trailing us home. We’ll
talk about this later, she promises, and I
think I’m glad I’ve turned eighteen so I
can hit the streets if I must. [Uh-huh,
right. With a baby, three hundred
dollars, and no place to crash.]
Okay, that’s not the best
idea either. Oh, well.
Why worry about
it now? Just make
it through the
afternoon. Get
some sleep tonight.
Get up early tomorrow
morning, start a
not-so-exciting
job at the not-so-
exciting 7-
Eleven. Whoopee!
None of That
Is so easy to do,
semibuzzed and
knowing I need to
crash,
knowing I most
definitely will
crash
as soon as everyone
eats and drinks their
fill, goes on home.
Except,
of course, I’ll have
to deal with Mom’s
wrath, Scott’s
inquisition,
or imagined], Heather’s
delight at my
torment,
a possible [make
that highly probable]
confrontation
between all of the above
and my father, the troll,
and his
miserable
fairy, Linda Sue. I do
feel sorry for her, and
I’m starting to feel pretty
sorry
for myself, too. Okay,
it’s looking to turn
out to be a
sleepless
toss-and-turn,
dissolve-slowly-
into-morning night
after all.
Three Weeks and Four Days
Since Hunter became an official
candidate for the kingdom of heaven.
Three weeks and one day since
Dad and Linda Sue left Mom’s insults
in their exhaust. Three weeks and two
days since Leigh and Heather flew
back to their swanky campus, leaving
me with no unequivocal answers
about cheerleaders and their diet aids
or what, exactly, lesbians do for fun.
Three weeks and three days since I
started work at the 7-Eleven.
Three weeks and three days of learning
to stock shelves, scan items, clear gas
pumps, make coffee and hot dogs. Three
weeks and three days of Kevin’s leers
[not to mention “accidental” gropes]
and semirude comments about
the growing appeal of my shrinking
behind. It even looks good covered
by a smock! A nasty green smock,
over looser and looser jeans.
Not that I’ve been into the monster—
not much, anyway. I only have a tiny bit
left, and I haven’t looked to score
more. I only take a quick toke or two
when Hunter doesn’t sleep through
the night and I have to be at work
by seven. Quarter till, actually, but I rarely
punch in before 7:03 or 7:04.
The job isn’t bad, actually. Not great.
Not life-changing. But not as boring
as I thought it would be. At least
it’s around people. Some I even know.
Old classmates. Old teachers. [Really
old, most of them.] Old party pals.
And hey. Tomorrow is my first paycheck.
How will I celebrate? Hmm.
I have definitely vacillated about
scoring again. I want to. Don’t want to.
Need to. Can’t. Bree is screaming
for the monster. Kristina keeps trying
to say no. But somewhere deep inside
she thinks Bree will win.
[You know you want me to.]
The only real question is when.
The Question Is Answered
With a phone call. Unexpected.
Anticipated. I happen to be on
a smoke break (yes, I’ve taken up
the habit again—big surprise)
when my cell begins to chime.
Kristina? It’s Trey. I’m
in Reno. Can we hook up?
OMG! He wants to hook up
with me? My heart starts to pound,
and my hands go clammy. And
then it strikes me he probably
wants the hundred I owe him.
I’d like to collect that debt.
And talk about that “interest.”
OMG! Maybe
he wants more
than money. Am I prepared to give
it to him? [Hell, yeah!] “I don’t
get off work until four. I could
meet up with you after that.”
Sounds like a plan. Oh, are
you by any chance looking?
Looking for what? [To score,
idiot.] “Um…” I’m not looking,
am I? [Of course you are.]
“Well…uh…yes, actually, I guess
I am.” Question answered.
Great. I’ll give you a taste
of what I’ve got. You’ll love it.
No doubt about that! And I’ll
probably like the ice, too. I tell
him where he can find me, hang
up the phone, and go back inside
to stock shelves and think about Trey.
I Can Hardly
Think about anything else
for the rest of the day.
I haven’t thought seriously
about a guy since Chase
went away. And Trey?
I don’t really believe
I might have a chance
with him. [Well, I do!]
No, I don’t think Bree
really thinks so either.
He’s gorgeous. Smart.
Built. Has a spectacular
connection, unlike Grade
E and his rapist connect.
I guess Trey’s connection
could be a rapist. At least
I won’t have to know
about it from firsthand
experience. [Speaking
of hands, wonder how his
will feel, touching me.]
Hold on now. I still don’t
know that’s what he has
in mind. [Come on. Of course
it’s what he’s got in mind.]
Just stop. Won’t do to get
all hot and bothered on
a definite maybe. Anyway,
I’ve got to concentrate,
get through this shift.
I Do
But somehow my drawer comes
up a little short. No problem. I’ll
make good on it. Oh my god,
the anticipation is making me
totally insane!
Every nerve
in my body
buzzes, high-
voltage want.
I want to get
high. I want
to be kissed.
(How long it
has been!) I
want to give
myself away.
I want to be
stunned by
passion so intense it knocks
me right off my feet, down to
my knees, where I know I’ll
surrender to this luscious i n s a n i t y.
I Grab a Few Dollars
From the cash stash in my purse,
round out my drawer, stow
my inelegant green smock on a hook
in the back room, run to the bathroom
to take a quick peek in the mirror.
My hair is pulled back in a tight
ponytail. I let it loose, and it falls
past my shoulders, shiny and smooth.
Mascara! I search my purse, to no
avail. Guess what I’ve got left
from this morning will have to do.
I don’t look bad, don’t look great.
Oh, well. Trey will be here any-
time. Luckily, I keep my birthday
bread in my wallet. I count out
a hundred, tuck it into my jeans.
I wish I was wearing the tight
ones. These leave plenty to
the imagination, a defense
against Kevin’s obnoxious stares.
Okay, breath mints. A spritz of nice
perfume. (Jake’s unexpected
birthday gift—who told him
how to shop for fragrance?)
I walk out the door just as Trey
pulls up in a stunning new
black-on-black Mustang.
Guess he’s doing okay.
He exits his car, comes over,
and gulps me into his arms like
we’re forever friends. Great to see
you. Let’s go for a drive.
“Nice ride. Guess I wouldn’t
mind checking it out.”
[Way to play it cool. But
I can’t wait to heat things up.]
He Cruises Slowly
Up Virginia Grade,
a well-kept gravel road
into the boonies. I study
his face,
chiseled and handsome,
even in profile, the not-
quite-black shade of
his eyes.
He asks how I’ve been,
what all I’ve been up to,
and my focus shifts to
his lips,
pouting and perfect. As I
outline the last three weeks,
I notice the breadth of
his shoulders.
He’s built, so he must do
something besides deal,
something physical.
His biceps
don’t deny that notion.
They tense as he shifts,
making me tense too.
His thighs
lean but strong, make
me even more tense.
[Go on. Touch them.]
He’s the whole package,
okay, and I want to unwrap
it, explore what’s inside,
under the denim.
He Finds a Secluded Parking Place
This looks okay, don’t you think?
I agree, “Looks good to me.”
Hope you’re ready to rocket.
I give a brisk nod. “Way overdue.”
Excellent. He loads his pipe, hands
it to me. I can’t help but smile
at the meth—a clear shard of glass.
I inhale gently, gratefully, pass
it back for him to do the same,
close my eyes to ride the giant rush.
Trey is generous. Within a few minutes,
I have climbed to a very tall buzz.
So what do you think? Was I lying?
“It’s the best meth I’ve ever done.”
He touches my knee. You want more?
“Absolutely.” [And more glass, too.]
The price drops a lot for a quantity.
Heat pulses at my temples. “Like…?”
We could get a half for eight hundred.
If we split that, double last time, for…
It’s just sitting there, waiting for us.
I owe him a hundred, plus four…
To help my decision, he passes the pipe.
“I get paid tomorrow. Can you wait?”
I’ll be here. But I don’t want to wait for…
We’re kissing. Long. Deep. Amazing.
My head spins and my heart pounds
and Bree is demanding more, more,
and suddenly, there is no Adam, no
Chase, and there never, ever was.
I Stop
Before things go overboard.
Stop?
Stop before we go all the way.
Stop?
Stop before I want to.
Can’t stop.
“Don’t,” I plead. “I can’t.”
Why not?
“Not on a first date…”
Come on!
“…even if it isn’t a date.”
Tease.
Déjà vu. “Not even.”
What then?
“Try me on a second date?”
And if I do?
“No promises, but kiss me like that…”
If I kiss you
again now?
“It’s still our first date.”
A girl with
principles?
“Most would argue with that.”
Maybe I like
that.
“Maybe I like you.”
Maybe I like
you, too.
“Well, then let me tell
you a story….”
Twenty Minutes Later
He knows more about me
than anyone but Chase does.
In fact, he knows more about
me than Chase does, because
he knows exactly how I feel
about Chase. Adam. Heather.
Leigh. Jake. Scott. Mom.
And Brendan. He knows all
about Brendan.
Ten minutes later he could be
a total jerk, tell me my past
has nothing to do with him.
He could say, Put out or get out.
But he doesn’t. He says,
You weren’t to blame. The meth
was not to blame. Only that
asshole was to blame. In a fairer
world, he would be dead.
I’m crying now, crying because
I’m high. Crying because he
cares, or at least pretends to.
Crying because it fucking
feels good to cry. Trey takes
me solidly into his arms, tells
me, No shame in crying. No
shame in hating. Go ahead, hate
him. He deserves that and more.
Then he kisses me again.
Tender, this time. Soft.
Unexpectedly compassionate.
I kiss him back. Tearful. Needy.
Filled with questions. Hungry.