Melt (2 page)

One

Dorothy

      He looks like a sculpture by Michelangelo. Like his body was intricately carved, chip by chip until it was perfect.

      He's beautiful.

      When I saw his muscles—even half covered by his Metallica T-shirt they couldn't be denied—when I saw his arms, I knew they could keep me safe. Funny, I never thought I needed protection, but there it was, that thought, and just like that everything changed.

      He was sitting with a bunch of guys in Dunkin' Donuts when Amy and I walked in. Dunkin' Donuts is apparently the mecca of teen society in Highland Park. Not that there's much to choose from in this one-square-mile town. There's a pizza place, a Chinese restaurant, a laundry … well, you get the picture. Manhattan, it's not. Anyway, the cool crowd gathers in Munchkinland.

      Personally, I find the bright fuchsia and orange colors a tad aggressive on the eyes, but what the hey. When in Rome …. And it looks like I'm going to be in Rome for a while.

      So Amy—the one friend I've made thus far in my two days here—she headed right past all those guys, just ignored them and headed for the counter. I meant to follow, but those biceps … they held me back.

      Imagine if they were holding me.

      The rest of the guys, they were yammering away, making crude jokes and cracking themselves up. He sat slightly apart, leaning his wrought iron chair back against the oh-so-pink wall.

      My eyes scanned higher, rising over his thick, strong neck to his finely chiseled jaw, lips, cheeks, nose.

      He's a work of art.

      To his eyes then, to his smoky-grey eyes that stared back at me. He had the look of an animal caught in a trap. It was like he was caged inside that beautiful body, like he was asking me to carve deeper and set his soul free.

      “What are you doing, Dorothy?”

      I guess I didn't answer fast enough because Amy grabbed at my arm, pulled me closer to the counter. “Those guys, they're jerks. We don't talk to them.”

      “I wasn't actually talking to ….”

      “Listen, they're losers. Get your donut and come in the back room, that's where everyone is.”

      I turned and looked at him. He was still watching me, tracking me with those eyes ….

      “Are you insane?” Amy yanked me around again. “That's Joey Riley. He's the biggest loser of them all.”

      “He doesn't look like a loser.”

      “Hel-
lo
, do you think losers come with big ‘loser' signs attached? No, they can come in some exceptional packaging. But when you unwrap them and you peel away all that plastic coating stuff and rip off the safety tags, then guess what, it's too late to return them.”

      “Could you be more specific?” I asked.

      “How about Joey Riley beats people up for fun, sends them to the hospital. How about Joey Riley drinks and smokes weed. How about Joey Riley's been arrested, sent to jai— Oh, crap, he's coming over …. Hey, Joey! What's up?” Amy's lips widened into a faux smile. I was beginning to not like my only friend. Maybe it was time to make another.

      I turned around, faced him.

      Faced those muscles, faced those eyes. If Amy was correct about him fighting he must've been awfully good, because he didn't have a visible mark. I tried to think of him as bad; I tried to shut him down in my head, but who was I kidding? He didn't answer Amy, he didn't even glance at her. He was all about me, and it was reciprocal.

      “Hi, Doll,” he said in a voice low and husky.

      “Doll?” I echoed. “Are we in some sort of 1940s gangster movie?”

      “What? No, I … I didn't mean anything by ….” His face tensed, reddened.

      “It's okay,” I jumped in. “Doll should be the worst name I'm ever called.”

      His jaw loosened, and he smiled just a little, around the edges. “Haven't seen you around before,” he said.

      “I just moved here, from New York.”

      He nodded, his long brown hair brushing ever so slightly against his shoulders. Lucky hair. “That's cool. I'm Joey.”

      He hesitated, then offered me his hand. It was calloused, kind of bent and bumpy-looking. His knuckles were uneven, bruised. I guessed he did punch people.

      I hesitated, then took it.

      A warm energy moved through me when we touched. It was all I could do not to melt into his arms, and I'm not the melting type.

      I swallowed deeply. “I'm Dorothy.”

Joey

      She looks like a

doll

like one of them

porcelain

dolls something so

fragile and

precious

you should put

high

on

a

shelf to keep

safe and never

never

touch.

      Mom had a bunch of them three shelves full ‘til Pop had

enough

he said he couldn't stand them all

staring

while he was sleeping.

And he didn't want

me

and

Jimmy near no girly shit neither he said

no sons

of his

were gonna

wind

up

fags. So Mom had to

pack

them up she

wrapped

them in that

bubble stuff she

taped

the boxes

real

good

so no dust would get in and she

left

them in Grandma's

basement.

I still remember them I remember their

faces all

smooth and delicate their

eyes so

wide so innocent like

nothing bad's

ever

happened

to them. Pure that's it they were

so

pure.

      She's like that.

      Hey

Doll,

I said that's what I

called her

without even thinking.

I almost didn't go over there she was with frigging Amy Farber her crowd

don't

see

me

even when they see me. But she had those big blue eyes like my mom's dolls so I went.

      She said something ‘bout

the

movies

I didn't know

what

she was talking about. I thought

she was pissed but

then

she smiled

and

it

was

okay.

      Her hair's like those dolls' too.

Long and glossy.

And wavy.

It's wavy

like you could just

unfurl

your fingers in it and set course.

      You could just drift far

far away.

      There was all this noise in there. There was people

yakking on line ordering

donuts and shit

there was registers ringing there was tip

cups clinking

there was background music some kind of top forty whining b.s. but when we started talking there was

only

our voices.

      She's new

here

she's from New

York, she said. You could tell she had class she was wearing a top that actually fit her it

covered her not like these girls who let their stomachs hang out all over the place like that's

supposed to be attractive.

I must be

crazy even

talking to her, I thought. She's probably used to all these

rich

fancy

dudes but the way she kept

looking

at me

I thought, Well maybe ….

      There was all these eyes

watching.

There was Jimmy and the guys at the table

there was

frigging

Amy

there was the people buying

donuts and shit there was the people

ringing

shit

up.

But when we looked at each other there was

only us.

      So I introduced myself I didn't wanna

stick

out

my hand

partly ‘cause it's a

disaster all twisted

up from fights and I thought

for

sure

it would spook her but also ‘cause she looked like a

doll

like one of Mom's

dolls

and you

shouldn't

ever

touch

them

they might break.

      But I did it.

I

forced

myself

‘cause that's what you're supposed to do

especially

when someone's from a place all classy and

polished

like New

York that's what they do there and anyway

I

can't

lie

I really did wanna do it, I wanted to

touch

her.

      And she took it.

      She

took

it.

      I thought she

wasn't

gonna but she slipped her

soft

soft

fingers round my

rough

scabby

hand.

      She

touched me she

touched me she touched

me

and something warm

crackled

through my body.

It didn't start in me it didn't start in her it started right between our hands like two sticks rubbing

like some kind of

friction

we caused together.

      For sure I thought she'd

drop

my hand like a

hot

potato

and run right outta Dunkin' Donuts but

she didn't.

      She said

her name was

Dorothy

and I thought,

Where's

Toto? But thank god I kept my trap shut that time ‘cause how many chances

do

you

get

really before you're chalked up for the

jerk

you

are?

      We were still holding hands looking at each other I was just glad I wasn't

drooling

or something I'm such a

doofus and then

fucking

Amy

cleared her throat

A-hem

and Dorothy

let

go.

      You coming or what, Amy asked her and she said

yes

she

was.

She said

nice

to meet

me and all that crap.

      I figured,

That's

that.

      She went to the counter and ordered a croissant and a mocha latte for crying

out

loud. What made me think

someone

like

that

would like

someone

like

me?

Someone who'd pick a

croissant

over a bagel or a donut.

Someone willing to pay

three

times

the

price to have

foamy

milk

on her coffee.

She could have anything

she could have

anyone.

So

why

the

hell

would she ever want

me?

      I started heading to the guys. I stared straight at the

psychedelically

pink

wall tried not to catch their eyes ‘cause defeat's hard enough without having to

look your friends

in

the

face.

The smell of

brewing

lattes

was making me dizzy.

The white ceiling lights beamed

down

on my head

bright

bright

bright.

The noises in that place were

way

too

loud.

My Nikes

slipped across

pale smoke tile

I could barely lift my feet.

It was all I could do not to

shut my lids and

melt

right

into

the

gray.

      But then I heard

my

name.

      She called

my name

she called my name she

called

my

name.

      She called me

back over.

      So I

went.

Two

Dorothy

      It was hard enough coping with all those swarming emotions without Amy there watching. I mean, I knew how she felt about Joey, and her standing there was like an invasion of our privacy. And she kept shooting these looks at him, like he was a gob of gum someone smushed under one of the tables.

      Even though I didn't know him, I wanted to shield him from her glare.

      The crazy thing was, even though I didn't know him, I did.

      I don't like gossip. Usually they've got it wrong, somehow. And even if they've got it right, it always sounds like a judgment on the person they're talking about, who's not invited to give his side of the story. On the surface it sounded like she was trying to warn me about Joey, but deeper, it was really that she needed people like Joey to put down, to make her feel better about herself. If he was bad, then she must be good. But things are never black and white like that.

      When she broke in and asked if I was coming, it wasn't a question. There wasn't room for me to say no, not if I wanted to go meet everyone—everyone who counted, according to Amy. I caved, without thinking. I said yes, I was coming, and kind of brushed him off.

      I didn't mean to, but I did.

      Standing at the counter waiting for my stuff, I looked back for him. But he wasn't watching me anymore. He was kind of slogging back to his table. His shoulders were slumped—those beautiful arms practically dragged at his side, and he moved so slowly ….

      I couldn't bear it.

      “Joey,” I called out over the sounds of grinding coffee, “Hey, Joey, come back.”

      Amy made this tut-tutting sound. She said she'd be in the other room if I decided to come, and then she sashayed away the way some girls do when they're just too cool. Personally, I walk. I don't wiggle, strut, or even stroll. I make it my business to walk, period.

      At that point I wasn't too broken up about Amy heading off.

      I'm not that desperate.

      Joey spun around with his shoulders straightened and his head held high. We locked eyes and he smiled that smile again, just a little, around the edges. He strutted back over the grey tiles.

      Here's the thing about strutting. On guys, I like it. Guys need a certain something in their walk, it's part of who they are. On girls, it's just pretension. For guys, it's a necessity.

      “Hey,” he said when he got up close again. He was still smiling.

      “Hey,” I said, smiling back. I'd never felt so instantly comfortable with someone, but at the same time there was this great pressure pounding in my chest, telling me not to blow it somehow.

      Truth is, I'd never had a boyfriend. I'd hung out with a few guys, gone to the movies and such, but I never felt any inclination to go further with them. There was never any connection. I kind of thought that connection stuff was something fabricated by Hollywood, or conjured up in people's minds—people who needed to believe that there was some soul mate out there waiting to complete them, because they couldn't bear the burden of completing themselves.

      I wasn't looking for completion, but god it was nice to
feel
.

      So there I was doing all this mental babbling but saying nothing to him. He was just watching me, wearing that little side smile, almost like he was listening to the thoughts inside my head. It would've creeped me out with anyone else, but with him, it was awesome.

      He must've known that I was back in focus, because he said, “Wanna sit, or something?” He pointed to a table for two by the window, overlooking the parking lot.

      “Sure,” I said.

      We sat, stared at each other some more, in a really cozy way.

      Like they do in the movies.

      Like I never thought could be, in real life.

      I sipped my latte. “Want some?”

      He shook his head no. “I don't do foam.”

      “Oh,” I said.

      He made a face like he couldn't believe he'd said that. “Uh, I mean ….”

      “It's fine. You don't do foam. I can respect that.”

      He laughed. He had such a great, deep laugh, and his eyes twinkled when he did it, like they were laughing too.

      “So, are your parents into
The Wizard of Oz
? That why they named you Dorothy?”

      “Actually, I'm named after Dorothy Parker.” I pulled a piece of my croissant off and popped it in my mouth.

      “Who's that?”

      “She was a writer in the 1920s. She used to get together with a bunch of other literary types, hang out at the Algonquin.”

      He raised his eyebrows. “The Indian tribe?”

      “The hotel. It's in Manhattan. They used to talk shop, booze it up. Chat a little, drink a lot, you know how it goes.”

      “I can relate to the drinking part,” he said, in a way that was both funny and not. “Well, she sounds way more cool than Dorothy in Oz.”

      “I wouldn't knock either one,” I said. “That Dorothy in pigtails and plaid, she had a lot of spunk.”

      “Yeah, I guess she did,” he said. “Maybe there's something about the name.”

      He kept staring into me with this intensity, and all of a sudden the air in Dunkin' Donuts seemed so still, so stagnant. I wanted to be outdoors with him.

      I wanted to breathe in the whole world with him.

      “Let's go for a walk,” I said.

Joey

      She wanted to go for a walk

get out of there.

      Fine by me.

      I got hit with a sugar craving suddenly so I got a jelly donut to go. Then I shot a

quick nod to the guys at the table so fast

they didn't have no chance

to act like the dopey hyenas they are

in front of

her.

      We crossed the parking lot, weaving past the cars and the SUVs. There was all this traffic

going up and

down

the street—there's only one main road in this

pointless

town—

and so all these cars kept

barreling

by.

      Inhaling all those exhaust

fumes was making me queasy. Weird, because I'd never even

noticed them

before.

Hey, Doll, I said. Then I did a

mental

face

slap.

I'm sorry, I said quickly.

      She gave me that pretty smile again and I knew she

didn't care really

that I called her that.

She didn't have to say it I just knew and that was so

incredibly

awesome.

      Still

I had to stop

‘cause it was rude.

      I said,

I mean

Dorothy ….

Wanna walk by the water?

      By the water we could

breathe really

breathe in the air.

      I wanted to breathe

fresh

air

with her I wanted to know how that

felt
.

      Like I ever gave a shit

about the air before.

      Who the hell knew

why these crazy thoughts

were bouncing through my head. I just hoped they didn't

up

and

leave

as quick as they came.

      Sure,

she said. She

said,

I was thinking the

same

thing.      

      We walked on the sidewalk real close

me clutching the

waxy

paper

bag

with my donut.

I was glad I had it ‘cause the thought

to slip her my hand

kept popping into my stupid

brain and that was one thought that would not do.

For sure

that would be it then. You can't go doing something so bold as that when you meet a girl not a girl like this.

But I wanted to anyway I wanted to

so

bad.

I wanted to

feel her hand in mine again

feel that energy it was like a new drug.

Hell

it was better than any drug I'd had so

thank

god

for

the

waxy

paper

bag.

      We didn't talk much on the main road ‘cause the traffic was kind of loud but it wasn't weird walking without talking like it is with most people. With most people you're always

grabbing

for words trying to

fill in

the emptiness.

It wasn't like that with her not at all.

      We turned the corner onto a side road and

I asked her. So what did Amy say about

me?

      Oh … nothing, she said.

      Yeah

Right, I thought.

I stopped short and

looked at her.

      Nothing … good, she said with a laugh.

      I laughed too then.

Frigging unbelievable

that she could get me to

laugh like that.

      I almost told her then

I almost told her it was true

basically

whatever Amy said

but I let it

go.

For once for

once

for

once I had a moment that was

golden

and

damned if I was gonna

ruin it by telling her what a

scumbag

I was.

      I

really

wanted to touch her

hand

and I was

so

scared

that I would

never

get to do that

again.

      Not

that I deserved to anyway. Christ

I had to warn her

who the hell

she was dealing with.

      We got to the water to this inlet or something I always forget what it's called.

It's part of Reynolds Channel but it's got this separate name.

Anyway we got to this bench by the

water

and

we

sat.

      It was really warm for February even there by the

water chalk it up to global warming

I

guess.

I kind of wished there was a

cold

breeze

that way maybe we'd have to

move closer.

Still

it was something being by the

water

with her

breathing

in all that

fresh

air.

I felt high and I didn't smoke since that morning.

      We didn't say

nothing

for a while we just

sat and

looked at the sun the way it

shined in

patches over the

ripples and the ducks the way they

glided over the

patches and the

ripples so smooth and

in

a

row

and we breathed we

breathed

we

breathed.

      Then finally I had to tell her. I couldn't take all that

easy

breathing

no more it wasn't right.

Doll, I said.

Shit shit ….

But she smiled again so I didn't

bother apologizing I just went on.

Dorothy, I said.

Then I stopped

‘cause it's hard

to tell someone what a

piece of

shit

you are.

Someone you like at least.

       I looked

down

at the waxy bag I was holding. I un-crinkled the top

took out the donut. White powder

spilled out

all over

me I was so stupid getting a jelly donut of all things why didn't I get a chocolate frosted but what did it matter

anyway.

      It actually helped.

      See this donut, I asked.

      Yes

she

did.

      Sugar

coated my fingers

white but it couldn't

coat

the

truth.

I brought the donut to my mouth

bit a hunk

exposed

the thick globbed

purple center.

      This donut

is

me,

I told her through my

chalky

powdered lips.

      She laughed, What?

      No

really,

I said.

      I told

her,

I'm a smeary

gooey oozing

jelly

donut.

      I'm a mess on the outside, I said

holding up my free

mutilated

hand.

      And I'm more of a mess on the inside, I said

holding up the

donut.

      She said,

So?

      So,

I said.

      I

said,

So

I don't want you getting your hands

dirty.

      That's why they invented

napkins,

she

said.

      She

said,

If you're trying to tell me that what Amy said is

true

without even

knowing

what

she

said

I really don't care.

      She said, I

don't

care

about what you've done because

I see who you are

and

I know you had to

have

your

reasons.

      But,

I

said.

      But …,