Fallout (32 page)

WHAT MAY DO

Is the pill potpourri

still in my pocket.

Who knows what

they might really do,               if anything. I reach

for possible Nirvana,

swallow it down with

two gulps of beer. Wait.

I plop on the plush

leather sofa, fake cheer

when Wisconsin scores,

slug down more beer.    Wait. About the time

I think I must have

gagged down placebos,

my brain goes fuzzy

and my tongue thickens

in my mouth. Behind

my forehead, a
zzzzzz

sound lifts, like bees               swarming, and my ears

feel like I’m diving

deep. Pressure. I close

my eyes, try to shut out

football. Shouting. Crying.

Clucking. Burnt butter

smell. Dinner should be

interesting. To say the least.

Autumn
WE’VE ALWAYS KEPT

Thanksgiving relatively low-key.

Grandfather. Aunt Cora. And me.

We spend the day cooking. Tasting.

Eating. Getting way too full. Just us.

But not this year. This year

we’re going to a big schmooze

at Liam’s parents’ house in Austin.

Aunt Cora wants to introduce us.

Not sure why she needed

to make the big intros today.

She knows how I feel about

breaking bread with total strangers.

Grandfather isn’t a whole

lot happier about it than I am.

But Aunt Cora can be pretty

convincing when she’s honey sweet.

It’s a skill I’m working hard on,

especially where Grandfather

is concerned. I’ve tried and tried

to get him to loosen my reins, at least

a little. It’s hard to maintain

a romance when most every

move is monitored. Grandfather

doesn’t trust me, which another time

I might find sort of funny. Me?

In need of watching? I mean,

considering his distrust took

root in a past defined by my father,

it’s not really fair to me.

Then again, considering

I’m not exactly anxious for

him to know any details about Bryce

and me, some people might

say I’ve earned it to some

degree. But, hey, a month

of secrets in seventeen years?

I’d say that’s not so bad.

And a month of romance

in all that time means I’ve got

a fair amount of catching up to do.

I HAVEN’T CAUGHT ALL THE WAY

Up yet. Haven’t gone all the way

“there,” not that he’s asked to.

Part of me really likes that—

that he respects me enough

not to pressure me into something

I’m probably not ready for. Part

of me wonders if I’m not good

enough for him to even want to try.

It’s warped. So am I. Although

I have to say, with Bryce in my life

I feel a little less distorted than

I used to. He grounds me. Not only

that, but for once, people at school

don’t look at me like I’m a complete freak.

Not with Bryce’s arm around my waist

as he walks me to class. Not when they see

us steal kisses (you’re not supposed

to swap spit in the hallways). Not when

they see us come and go in his car,

stereo blaring. Sometimes grunge,

sometimes country. I’m happy to listen

to Three Days Grace. And, with some

coaxing, he’ll agree to Toby Keith,

though I haven’t quite convinced him

Toby’s music is rock with a Texas

drawl. On weekends we manage

to steal some time together, if I can

talk Grandfather into letting me go

to a game, the mall, or the library. Bryce

will meet me and we’ll cheer our team,

window shop, or make out behind the stacks.

I must say, I’ve become a pretty good kisser.

And I’m starting to like how that makes me feel

in places I’ve always refused to think about.

YEAH, I KNEW I HAD THEM

I took sex ed twice

in middle school.

I totally get the

mechanics, and

when it comes

to spelling the

names for those

places, hey, I’m a

regular champ. But

up until now, the

idea of putting

that knowledge

to genuine use

seemed way too

complicated to

consider. Not to

mention more than

than a little messy.

Okay, when it comes to        E X, I’m retarded. But

better late than never.