A Little Bit of Everything Lost (7 page)

“If he’s coming into town later this month, this might be my only chance to get the closure I need. And he d
eserves to know what happened.”

Marnie sighed. “And you k
now what? Whatever happened on his end, well, I deserve to know why. I deserve to know what happened too.”
 

**

The words wouldn’t come.

Finally, after chewing on the pen, refilling her coffee mug three times, folding a load of laundry, going through the mail and eating a stale bagel, she sat and wrote.

Dear Joe,

I’m sure you never expected to hear from me after all these years, and I’m not even certain you will receive this letter as I’ve addressed it to the only place I remembered. So, if you don’t receive this personally, I hope whoever does can send it your way.

Do you remember our summer together? I do. I remember it all, and think fondly back to our time together, and wanted to let you know I was glad to have made that connection with you, for although it was short, it was also an important and memorable time in my life.

I was learning who I was, what I wanted, who I longed to be.

Because of you, I am the person I am today.

If you would like to catch up, I’ve included my email.

With fond memories and wishes for a happy holiday season.

Marnie Kretts-Werner

[email protected]

Marnie looked at the clock. Two hours had passed since she first sat down to compose the letter. She quickly sealed it, stamped it, handwrote his parent’s address on the envelope and attached a return address label. She was fairly certain that he no longer lived in the same state, but took the card to the mailbox before she could change her mind about sending it.

She heard the rumble of the school bus coming up the street.

Smile, Marnie, smile. It’s time to play Mom.

Chapter
Seventeen
August 1988

Marnie squeezed Joe’
s hand, her fingernails pinching into his skin as they reached the doorstep to the colonial house.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, squeezing the tips of her fingers back.

“I’m a little freaked out about meeting your friends.”

“Don’t be; they’ll love you.”

Of course, when the L word slipped from his lips, her heart stopped hoping he’d continue with,
“They’ll love you, just like I do.”

Instead, Joe swept her bangs from her eyes, kissed her forehead, and let himself in the front door, still holding tightly to her hand.

In a few weeks summer would be over. Soon they would no longer be together, and who knew when they would see each other next; for they hadn’t discussed anything beyond the next day.

Had he asked, Marnie knew she would be able to commit to a relationship. She knew at this point she would be able to turn down any guy at school, say no if someone asked her to dance, or go for a drink, or come home with him, which, in the past, she had done. But that was all before Joe. Now she knew. She was sure Joe was all she wanted, for she had never given so much of herself to one person and in such a short amount of time, and had never felt so secure in doing so. Never.

The music –
Any Way You Want It
– pulsated through the house. Marnie heard laughter out back. Joe led her through the foyer, where a couple crouched near the stairway, the girl so close to the guy, so near his face, and so angry, Marnie thought she might spit on him.              

Through the hallway, they walked on oriental rugs and past original canvassed modern paintings probably worth thousands. Joe steered her toward the noise, to the back of the house, where the music swelled and the party came alive. Through curtains of smoke – a purple bong was being passed around the kitchen table – Marnie could make out people but was sure she didn’t know anyone. She was hoping to see a familiar face, maybe someone she had graduated with, but she recognized no one. Not kids from her high school, not her crowd.

Feeling tiny and insecure, she pressed closer to Joe. She coughed; a cloud of marijuana in her face. Someone shouted, “Keg’s over there,” and Joe gently steered Marnie in the direction of the beer, his hands possessively on her hips.

As he pumped the tap, Joe looked at her, intensely. “You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just weird. I don’t know anyone here.”

“We’ll go outside – there won’t be as much smoke,” he assured.

Joe took two yellow Solo beer cups, foamy and filled, and Marnie grabbed onto his elbow as he pushed through the growing crowd. There were so many people crammed into the house. She hadn’t expected it to be a big party; Joe had said “just a couple of friends” were getting together. Sorority girls strutted around in their house gear, wearing letters across their chest, on necklaces, and wrapped around their wrists in wooden beads and hemp bracelets. They laughed as one relayed a story about being so drunk she passed out while sitting on the toilet. Others looked at Marnie like she was an outcast, and she was, all things considered. This wasn’t her territory. These weren’t her friends. She hadn’t even rushed a sorority at her college.

Outside, the cool summer air caressed her cheeks and calmed Marnie. A long sip of her beer settled into her empty stomach and she felt her body loosen up a bit, her limbs relaxed.
I can do this,
she thought.
I can be charming and witty and fun.
She took another long swallow, smiled at the guy who Joe introduced her to, put out her hand to shake his. She laughed when he made a comment about Joe coming around with another “babe,” decided she already did not like this guy, and took another long sip of beer.

By her third beer, Marnie was completely relaxed. With her beer buzz came confidence. She and Joe found seats at the white wrought-iron table outside, and he stayed near her, protectively. She loved the feeling of having him nearby, was glad all the girls at the party knew she had come with him. She was even sharing her own stories of the first week in college, and those at the table laughed about how she had been so homesick the first night, she and her roommate went back to their dorm, ordered a pizza, and cried.

“That’s what happens to the freshman. You get a little sad, you order a pizza! The freshman fifteen, in no time at all!” Marnie said, lifted her beer and drank.

“Yeah, like you even gained the freshman fifteen,” Gena countered, a plump girl who had been very sweet to Marnie all night. Marnie liked her instantly, mostly because she hadn’t given Marnie the evil-eye like other girls had, and also because she wasn’t sporting sorority gear.

“Oh yeah I did. I came home that Thanksgiving and my dad was like, ‘What happened to you?’ I didn’t speak to him the whole time I was home!” Marnie said.

Joe squeezed her elbow. “You girls want another beer?” The other guys at the table started talking football, and Gena and Marnie both handed Joe their cups. Gena lit up a cigarette, one of those slim Capris, and asked Marnie if she wanted one.

“No thanks,” Marnie replied.

Joe rose from his chair, kissed Marnie on the cheek, “B
e right back.” Marnie turned back to Gena, who was sharing tales of love and woe, slurring her words, but Marnie didn’t mind; her words were coming out mish-mashy too.

Joe came back with their beers but didn’t sit back down. Instead, he placed his hand on Marnie’s back. “Do you mind if I go back inside? I just ran into another buddy.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’m fine,” Marnie said.

Dave, the guy who referred to Marnie as one of Joe’s ‘babes,’ said, “I’ll take care of her for ya!”

“Sure he will,” another guy joked. Marnie was enjoying the attention. She thought it might be okay for Joe to feel a little jealous, like she felt when they first arrived. It would maybe bring him back to the table sooner. Marnie drank more as she listened to Dave, the other guy, and Gena talk about some party they were at the weekend before where the cops showed up. The beers were getting to her; she wished there was something to eat; and the music, now Violent Femmes, soaked into her tingly skin. There were only so many times Marnie could listen to the words “Why can’t I get, just one screw” and not want to go home and do exactly that with the person who she most wanted to do it with.

Marnie could see Joe in the bright kitchen from where she sat. He was animated, his hands flying above his head as he told a story, explained a joke maybe. Those around him laughed. She loved looking at him like this, watching him with his friends, making them laugh. She was happy he invited her, that he wanted her to meet his friends. She imagined he was telling his friends about her, about how he was falling madly into crazy-sexy love with her, and how they wouldn’t be staying long because he needed to take her home and do something crazy-sexy to her. She continued to watch him from the corner of her eye, and laughed when others at the table laughed.

Someone suggested they play “Thumper.” She remembered this drinking game from high school, and it had seemed so fun then, doing crazy hand motions, trying to get others to mess up, but now, it just seemed stupid. Still, she played, all the while wishing Joe would come take her from this; take her home for some sexy-crazy.

They started a round of “Have You Ever,” the same game that had led Joe and Marnie into that bedroom the first night. Joe was still inside – Marnie could see him – and she thought she saw the purple bong being passed around the kitchen table, but couldn’t be sure.

A few others joined them outside, eager to find out what everyone had been up to over the summer. One of the girls, who Marnie was certain had sneered at her earlier, sat down with a brawny football guy. The new girl called football boy Big Oaf, and plunked herself right onto his lap. She drank, not crappy keg beer, but her own six-pack of imported bottles. She drank like a professional, had perfectly plucked eyebrows, naturally blond curly hair, and eyelids that were lined like a movie star. And she would not stop staring at Marnie.

“Don’t you work at The Bean?” Import Bottle Girl finally asked.

“Yeah. I do,” Marnie answered.

“Yeah. I thought so. Their coffee sucks,” Import Bottle Girl said.

“Sorry you feel that way,” Marnie shot back. Gena tapped Marnie on the knee, a gesture that said for Marnie not to let it get to her.

Marnie had been just buzzed enough to let Import Bottle Girl’s comment slide, and the game continued. If a question was asked, and players had done that thing before, players drank. Simple rules for a simple drinking game.

Have you ever made out with another girl?

Have you ever faked it?

Have you ever snorted coke?

Have you ever done it in a pool?

Have you ever masturbated in front of someone?

When Import Bottle Girl lifted her beer to drink at the masturbation question, Big Oaf said, “Yeah Trina!” and a couple other guys cheered.

Trina drank long and slow and purposeful, enjoying the attention, watching Marnie’s reaction from the corner of her eye. Her tongue circled the rim of the green bottle and then she gave Marnie what she knew was the “you’re-a-bitch-and-don’t-belong-here” glare. Marnie felt it. Gena nudged Marnie again under the table and whispered, “Ignore it,” to which Marnie smiled. Gena knew something was up; it wasn’t just in Marnie’s head. Gena knew this girl was trouble and was letting Marnie know.

Others came over to the table to see what was going on because Trina’s admission had caused quite a reaction among the guys. Marnie watched as Trina toyed with the neck of the beer bottle again.

“Phallic symbol much?” Gena whispered to Marnie.

“Okay. My turn,” Trina took another sip. “Hold on, I’m thinking of a good one,” she said.

Marnie was getting tired of this. She was done drinking, and this girl was annoying her. She wanted to leave, but she felt if she were to get up, she would be wobbly. She was so over the game, and so over the party and the girl’s obvious attitude toward her. But Joe hadn’t come back for her yet, and she could no longer see him in the kitchen. Marnie figured he had gone to the bathroom, and then would come get her, but he hadn’t returned.

“Come on, already, Trina. Think of your question, or you lose your turn!” Dave yelled.

“Okay, okay.” One more gulp of her import.

“Have you ever… let’s see… ” Trina said slowly.

She adjusted herself onto Big Oaf’s lap, and Marnie wanted to ask him if he had to pay for the lap dance. The girl was a slut. Marnie could tell.

“Okay, here’s one.” Trina paused for effect and took another long swig of her beer while everyone waited. Then she raised one eyebrow, cocked her head, and stared cold and hard at Marnie.

“Have you ever made lemonade?”