good friend, Drew, is here. Right now,
he’s listening. I know, because I’m
on the floor by my door, eavesdropping.
They’re in Shelby’s room, which has
been transformed into an office/sitting
room with mauve walls and flouncy
white curtains and plush new carpeting.
The furniture is white wicker—
desk, love seat and rocking chair.
If you ask me, Mom spends way
too much time in there. Not sure
what she does, except read. I can’t
quite let go of Shelby yet, I hear Mom
say. I have no clue how long it will
take, or if I’ll ever get over her
completely. I know I have to do
something. Get out of the house.
Get a job. Something. I just don’t
know what or when or how to pull
myself away. I feel like she’s still
here. Still needing me. It’s strange.
Come on, Drew. Tell it like it is.
It’s not strange, Missy. She was
the biggest part of your life for
the past five years. Take all the time
you need. He pauses, and then,
How are things with Chris? Is he
living up to his end of the bargain?
Dad’s attentiveness to Mom has
waned a bit. But will she admit
that to Drew? Up to a point, I guess.
He still works really long hours.
Still travels a lot, too. I’m not sure . . .
Is he still in the guest room?
Okay, that was direct. Asking it
like it is, if not telling it. I’m pretty
sure Drew won’t want to hear
Mom’s answer, which is not quick
to come. No. I told him if we are to
have any chance at all, we need
to try and be husband and wife again.
This pause is even longer. Gaga,
who has been roaming the house,
comes through the door, shimmies
into my lap, purring for attention.
Finally, Mom says, I’m not sure
it’s working. I mean, the sex is fine.
But I can’t say it’s like it used to be
before . . . her. I don’t know. Maybe
it’s me. I keep picturing them together.
Wondering if he’s thinking about her
when he’s with me. It’s painful.
But my choices are limited right now.
I understand, says Drew. I can
imagine the hurt look in his eyes.
He totally loves Mom. Just know
you’ll always have a place with me.
Way Too Much Information
All the way around. It’s not like
I didn’t know about Dad’s affair,
but I really don’t need the details.
I am about to get up, move away
from the door, when I hear Drew
ask, And how about Shane?
How’s he doing? Good question,
one I want to hear Mom answer.
On the surface, okay. He seems to be
doing well in school. He and Alex
are still going strong. But to tell you
the truth, I’m worried about him.
It’s like he’s collapsing inward,
imploding, but without the “bang.”
Christian says it’s his way of grieving
and he’ll get over it eventually.
I hope he’s right. I really do.
Oh, great. Now I’m a source of worry
for Mom, too. Like she needs more.
I Am Such a Loser
A fucking, no-good piece of crap.
All I do is feel sorry for myself.
What about Mom?
What about Dad?
And Gram and Gramps
and everyone else
who cared about Shelby?
What the hell is wrong with me?
I should be over this by now.
But I’m a mess.
A basket case.
I want to eat.
Want to sleep.
Want to fuck all day
like a Viagra poster boy.
And I can’t do any of those things.
Because, as much as I want to,
Food just won’t stay down.
When I sleep, I have nightmares.
And I can’t fuck because
when I try all I do is cry.
Poor Alex
He wants to help, but doesn’t know
how, and I have no answers for him.
one else to call. He’s at work, so I
get his voice mail. “Please come
over as soon as you can. I need you.”
Meanwhile, I gently put Gaga
on my pillow, scratch her head
the way she likes. Then I sneak
past Mom and Drew, who are all
wrapped up in each other and
conversation about Dad and me.
I detour through the kitchen.
Reach up to raid the alcohol stash.
Grab the first bottle—like booze
roulette—and come away with what?
Absinthe. What the hell is that?
Guess I’ll find out the hard way.
I close the back door quietly. Head
to the trailer, where my weed is stashed.
I roll a big fatty, light it up and take
a swig from the bottle. Whoa, Joe!
Absinthe is strong, and it comes
out my nose in a giant licorice-
flavored spray. Licorice and skunk,
a heady combination. One that tastes
better when not exhaled in a snort
from the nostrils. I look at the bottle.
Seventy percent alcohol. Holy
crap. On a mostly empty stomach,
I’m feeling dizzy already. Dizzy
and happy. And if a little makes me
happy, a lot should make me
ecstatic, right? One way to know.
The Bottle
Is a third gone when I happen
to notice the price tag. Sixty-four
ninety-nine. Yowza! I just drank
twenty-two dollars’ worth of Absinthe.
And, you know, I’m close to ecstatic.
Except now I think about Mom,
all the crap she’s going through.
And damn if she isn’t worried
about me. I am plunging south
again when someone tries to open
the door. Good thing I locked it.
“Who’s there?” Anxiety ripples.
Did someone smell the weed
and call the cops? A shimmer
of fear threatens my buzz. But
then, It’s me, Shane. You asked
me to come over, remember?
Alex. Shit. Duh. My fingers
don’t want to work. That makes
me laugh, which only makes it
totally impossible to open the door.
“Hang on. I’m trying. Jus’ wait
right there.” Stupid. Where else
would he wait? And my speech
is a little blurred around the edges.
Finally, success. Alex stands on
the step, looking half-amused,
half-concerned. Ah, shit. Um . . .
Are you okay? He pushes inside.
Sniffs. What are you drinking?
“Absinthe. Ever tried it?
It’s wicked, man.” I offer
the bottle. He takes a tiny sip.
Grimaces. Wicked is right.
How much of that have you had?
My shrugs says too much. All this?
I Swear, If He Says
He’s worrie
d about me,
I’ll go play in traffic.
But all he says is, Bet
you’ll have a headache
tomorrow morning.
“Yeah, but maybe I’ll
actually sleep tonight.”
You’re having trouble
sleeping? Maybe you
should go to a doctor.
Self-medicating isn’t
always the best way to go.
Please don’t say you’re
worried. “I’ll think about it.”
He pulls me into his arms,
and I’m almost positive
he’s going to say it. But
instead, he kisses me.
Maybe I can help you
fall asleep. Want to try?
Oh, Yeah, I Do
And I think maybe just one more
little taste of wicked strong booze
will help me become the Viagra
poster boy instead of a weeping
fool. I take a swallow. He refuses
one and I really, really think he’s
going to say it now. Wait. Wow.
Am I challenging him on some
subconscious level? Whatever.
I leave the bottle by the little sink,
follow Alex back to the lumpy
bed. Hungry. But not for food.
Starving for his body. Famished
for his love. We tangle together,
and I am grateful that he takes
control. I’m a wreck. But less
of a wreck than I am without
him. And he never says it, even
if he wants to. At this moment
there is no worry. But still, I cry.
Alex
Without Him
Life
might be easier. He is
a major complication.
Something important
to stress about. But what
would
my days be like, emptied
of him? Scrubbed
clean of his warped humor.
His energy. His presence. I
have
been in love before and,
doubtless, would love again.
But could I love like this—
overwhelmed, overboard,
no
holds barred? He tells me
he’s fine, that this strange
condition is temporary.
Says not to worry. But there is
meaning
behind his silence. His binging.
His extraordinary need. How
weak is he? And how strong am I?
Harley
I Want to Be Strong
But I swear I’m such a wuss
when it comes to some stuff.
Especially, anything having
to do with Lucas. Pretty much
whatever he asks, I can’t say no
to. Case in point. Tonight
is Halloween. Bri always comes
over. And we always trick-or-treat
together. But Lucas wants to see
me and he’s bringing Kurt along.
Bri broke up with Kurt weeks ago.
He keeps touching me in places
that I don’t want him to touch, she
explained. He doesn’t understand “no.”
I wanted to tell her to lighten
up. That getting touched in those
places is actually not so bad.
That she might even like it if
she just gave it a chance. But
I didn’t. I wussed out there, too.
And when she asked about trick-
or-treating I told her I thought
we were getting kind of old for it.
Didn’t want to hurt her feelings
and say I’d rather hang out with Lucas.
I’m setting Kurt and Chloe up. Pretty
sure she won’t mind him touching
those places. Mom’s driving me
over to Chloe’s house. Don’t you
want some dinner first? Or will
your friend’s parents feed you?
Chloe lives alone with her dad, who
works swing shift. But all I say
is, “I’m good. I had some soup.”
I Did Have to Lie
When Mom asked why Bri
wasn’t coming tonight. “She’s not
feeling so hot,” I told her. Any other
year, Mom would have talked to
Mrs. Carlisle about it. They used
to be really tight. Something has
come between them. Not really
sure what it is, but they don’t go
out like they used to, or even
just get together for coffee.
Which is okay for a short time, but
not for good. Mom doesn’t have
a whole lot of friends. She can’t
afford to lose her best one. Which
makes me rethink what I’m doing
tonight. I don’t want to lose my best
friend, either. Still, plans are plans.
I’m not changing this one now.
I’ll call Bri and we can do something
this weekend. I’ll make it up to her.
But I Am Curious
We are almost to Chloe’s when
I get the nerve to ask Mom, “Did
you and Mrs. Carlisle have a fight?”
Mom squirms obvious discomfort.
Not at all. Holly is just going
through some stuff right now.
“You mean, like a midlife crisis?
That’s what Bri says—that her mom
is going through a creepy midlife crisis.”
That makes Mom smile. I don’t
know about “creepy.” It’s not
uncommon for women of our age.
“Did you . . . have you . . . are you
going through one, too? Is that why
you and Mrs. Carlisle don’t talk much?”
Her smile falls away. Harley,
honey, that’s not it at all. Don’t
worry. Everything’s okay. Okay?
Something About Her Denial
Makes me think everything is not
okay. But we’ve arrived at Chloe’s.
Will someone bring you home?
Don’t forget it’s a school night.
“I have a ride home and I promise
not to be out past eleven.” I watch
Mom drive away before going to
the door. Chloe answers in a French
maid’s costume that shows off pretty much
everything. “Wow. You’re brave.”
Always good to make a great first
impression. Kurt is worth impressing?
“Oh, yeah.” Not as worthy as Lucas, who
I really hope she doesn’t impress as much
as I think she might. My vampire outfit
is sexy, but not completely see-through.
I totally have to quit wussing out.
“Can I go change?” She points to a hall
bathroom. Help yourself. Want
a beer? I’m going to have one.
“Your father lets you have beer?”
I call from the far side of the bathroom
door. Sort of, she calls back. He buys
twenty-four packs. Doesn’t miss them.
One beer couldn’t hurt, right?
“Okay. If you’re sure.” I only tasted
beer once. Mom thought she was
teaching me a lesson, and I guess
it worked. The beer was the color
of coffee. And it tasted like how cat
pee smells. I took a couple of big sips
anyway. Haven’t touched beer since.
This Beer Is Light
Colored, and its smell isn’t obnoxious.
And, though I told Mom I had eaten,
that was an
other lie. Half the can
makes me fuzzy-headed. I’ve started
on the second half when the doorbell
rings. Chloe steps back to let the boys
in. Lucas, who is dressed in a black
duster, boots and cowboy hat, checks
her out. Whistles. Well, hello there.
You can clean my bedroom any
time. Long as I’m in it! Now he looks
at me. You look pretty good, too.
Wow. Nice. Guess I should make
the introductions. “That’s Lucas.
And that’s Kurt. And thish is Chloe.”
My mouth is a little fuzzy, too.
Lucas notices. Wait a minute.
What’s that in your hand? Miller
Lite? I thought you didn’t drink.
You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?
The Guys Want a Beer, Too
Chloe goes to the kitchen, and
I follow her. “Won’t your dad miss
those?” The last thing I need is for
her dad to tell my mom I’ve been
drinking. But she says, Nah. He never
keeps track. Can’t drink it all, though.
“I can’t drink any more than this
one. I can’t miss school tomorrow.
I’ve got a history test.” Chloe rolls
her eyes. I know. I’m in your class,
remember? Don’t worry. We won’t
get drunk on a beer or two. She might
not, but I’m feeling pretty buzzed.
She hands me a can for Lucas, and
we go back to the boys, who down
their beers in a couple of big swigs.
Lucas drapes his arm around my shoulder.
Ready for a little Halloween fun?
His hand drops down over my boob,
and his fingers obviously play
with my nipple and I’m worried
that he thinks this beer means I’m
going to have sex with him, right here,
right now. “Uh . . . What kind of fun?”
Seriously? Trick-or-treating,
of course. Emphasis on the “tricks.”
That makes me just a little nervous,
but I can’t say no. Chloe stashes
the beer cans outside in the recycling
bin and we all pile into Lucas’s car.
The first thing he does is light up
a pipe stuffed with pot. He passes it
to me, and for a change I go ahead
and take a small puff before handing
it over the seat to Kurt. Chloe giggles
and inhales a big drag. Good stuff,