Milkrun (29 page)

If there are any missing, I'm leaving.

Oh. The white box is full of vitamins.

I close the cabinet and turn on the water. Too cold. I turn the faucet knob to the left. Too hot. I hate not being able to find the exact line between hot and cold. I turn the shower on, or try to. I hate when this happens, too. I can't figure out how to get the shower part going. Why is it so hard to start the shower? There it is. The water is hot as I step onto a prison bar and reach for the soap. He has Dove. I have a feeling his mother came and set up the entire apartment before he got here.

Hmm. He's been here for two days. What did he do on New Year's Eve? If he's so crazy about me, why didn't he call me? Was he at Orgasm? I didn't see him at Orgasm. Did I see him at Orgasm? Did he see me at Orgasm? Did he see me sitting by myself at the bar? Maybe he saw me with Andrew. Maybe he saw me leave with Andrew and is now afraid I'm getting on with my life, worried he'll lose his hold on me. Will he lose interest as soon as he feels comfortable again?

Here I am, a complete mass of confusion, standing under his Magic Massager showerhead, the hot water beating against my back. When did I become “the insecure girl”? When did I become the “searches-through-her-boyfriend's-cabinet-to-count-how-many-condoms-he-has girl?”

I can't breathe—there's too much steam in here. I turn off the water and step out of the stall. I have to figure out what I should do, what I should say, who I should be. I open the window and wrap myself in the fuzzy gray towel and sit down on the tiled floor. If I count to ten, maybe the steam will disappear and I'll be able to breathe again. One…two…three…If I count to ten, maybe by then the answers will come to me. Four…five…six…

Do my attempted romantic relationships fail because I'm destined to be with Jeremy? Or because I'm afraid to let myself like someone else, care about someone else, admit that Jeremy and I are over?

Am I in love? Or am I afraid of not being in love?

Seven…eight…nine. Ten.

Maybe we
are
meant to be together. The fact that we keep getting back together has to count for something.

“Jer?” I call out. “Come here for a second!”

“Hold on!” he yells from the living room. He opens the door. “It's too hot in here. Come out.”

“It's too cold out there.” I pull his arm and he comes inside, leaving the door open behind him. “Are you in love with me?”

He stares at me without answering. “I…How can I answer that? I just got here two days ago.”

Wrong answer. “We've known each other for over three years. If you can't answer that now, you're never going to be able to.”

His face turns red from the steam. “Are you in love with me?” he returns the question.

Maybe it doesn't matter that he doesn't say I love you. Maybe it doesn't matter that I'll always be monitoring the inventory in his condom box. Maybe this is as deep as it gets.

Maybe the only thing deep here is what I've been walking through these last few months. I'd need boots that go all the way up my thighs if I were to stay with Jeremy.

“I'm going home.”

He watches me silently, and then leaves the bathroom. I put my clothes on and decide to take the subway. He doesn't try to stop me.

As I walk to the station, strands of my wet hair freeze into icicles. As soon as I get home, I'm taking a hot bath. Then I'm canceling my credit cards. Sometimes you just have to suck it up and cut your losses.

W
HEN
I
GET HOME
, S
AM AND
Iris are sitting together on the couch, watching
Law and Order.

“Hi,” they say in unison.

“Hi.”

I join them under the afghan. “Anyone call?”

“Yeah,” Iris says. “Andrew.”

My heart stops for a second and then resumes. “What did he say?”

“I don't know. He hung up pretty quickly.”

“Huh? Why did he hang up?”

“He wasn't very thrilled that you went out with Jeremy.”

“Why did you tell him I went out with Jeremy?”

“Oh, was it supposed to be a secret?”

Shouldn't sisters have radar for this type of thing? “How did you know I went out with Jeremy, anyway?” Wasn't she barricaded in my room when I left?

“Because after you yelled that you were leaving, I came out to get food, but you didn't have any, so I decided to order a pizza on Janie, but the phone was off the hook with Wendy on it. Apparently you forgot about her. That wasn't very nice, Jack. And she doesn't approve of Jer. Do you know she's going to London?”

Shit! Shit! Shit! My sister is in town for less than three hours and already she's turned my life upside down. I have to call Andrew right now. I run into my room and close the door. His machine picks up.

I try again an hour later and leave another message.

He doesn't call back.

By the next morning he still hasn't called back.

“What do I do?” I ask Sam.

“He probably has call display. Try him from my cell.”

It works. “Hello?” he says.

“It's me.”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing happened with Jeremy.”

“It doesn't matter.”

It doesn't matter? “Obviously it does or you wouldn't be so pissed off.”

“Maybe I'm pissed off because I think you're a bit pathetic.”

Ouch. That was a bit uncalled for. “Why am I pathetic?”

“Because even though you say you want nothing to do with him, as soon as he whistles, you go running.”

“That's not true. I didn't go running.” Here again is the problem with lying. What's the point when the words sound hollow even to me?

“Your sister said he knocked on your door and you left with him. I'd call that running, wouldn't you?”

“What do you expect? I had to give him a chance to explain. But nothing happened! We are
not
getting back together.”

“Whatever you say. My bet is that you two are back together before Valentine's Day.”

“I told you, it's not going to happen.”

“Okay. Sure. Take care.” He hangs up.

 

The next morning the phone wakes us up. By “us,” I mean me and Iris's sprawled-across-both-sides-of-the-bed body. How can such a little person take up so much space?

“Hello?” Maybe it's Andrew. Maybe he's realized that his unfair accusations were cruel and unjust.

“Jacquelyn, is that you?” It's Janie. A hysterical-sounding Janie.

I contemplate telling her she has the wrong number, but mumble yes by mistake.

“Iris is missing!” she exclaims. “I just got home and yesterday's paper is still sitting outside the door and the place is a mess. I think she's been kidnapped.”

I'm awake. “Relax, she's here.”

“She's in Boston? Why is she in Boston?”

“She wasn't too impressed with your emigration plan.”

“Why didn't you call us so we wouldn't worry?”

I'm not quite sure why I didn't call. I didn't even think about it. I guess that was pretty irresponsible. If Iris were a plant she'd probably be all shriveled up by now for lack of being watered. “I didn't think. I'm sorry.”

“You have to send her back to us right now.”

“She's not a package I can send by Federal Express. Hold on a sec. When's your return flight?” I ask Iris.

“My ticket is one way. Don't you pay attention? I'm not leaving.”

“Apparently she's not leaving,” I say to Janie.

“Let me speak to her.”

“She wants to talk to you.” I hold out the phone.

“I'm not talking to her.”

“Take it.”

“No.”

“Pick up the phone, Iris!” Janie screams through the receiver.

Iris shakes her head.

I pick up the phone again. “She's in the shower.”

“Don't lie.”

“She's mad at you. She doesn't want to move to Arizona.”

“Why not? It's a beautiful state.”

“Because she's sixteen. And right now her friends are very important to her. She's moved a million times in the past ten years, and I think she's getting a little tired of it.”

“Unfortunately, she's not the one who gets to make the decisions.”

“Don't you think you're being unfair? To make her move in middle of the year?”

“What do you mean in the middle of the year? We still have to sell the house. That will take a couple of months at least, and then I'll stay with her until she finishes her junior year.”

“I'm going to be a loser in my senior year!” Iris sobs.

“I hear her! She's not in the shower!”

I shoot Iris a look and continue negotiating with Janie. “So you're willing to wait until summer?”

“Yes, of course!”

I turn to my sobbing sister. “Why are you being such a baby?”

She grabs the phone. “I hate you! I won't have anyone to talk to all summer! And all senior year! I don't want to move again! I'd rather live with Jackie. She, at least, loves me. She, at least, cares about my happiness.” She slams down the phone.

Her therapy bills are going to cost a fortune.

“Please can I live with you? Please?” she begs.

I do feel for her. Really. But what can I do? “I can't take care of you.”

“I'm sixteen. I don't need to be taken care of. And what else are you going to do? Sam's moving out soon, and you hate to be alone.”

“What do you think, the apartment is free? I already told you, I can't cover both rents.”

“What if I drop out of school to work?”

“Yeah, that's what I want you to do, drop out of school. Are you crazy? It's only one year, Iris. Then you're off to college. Can't you tough it out?”

She turns around and starts to cry into the pillow. I remember her first day of school in Boston. I was still on summer break from college, but junior high had already started. I was sitting in Janie's car, waiting to hear all the events of the day. She had been so excited, so nervous, that morning when she'd chosen just the right outfit: her Calvin Kleins and a midriff-peeking tank top.

“So how was it?” Janie asked tentatively.

Iris burst into tears and said, “No one talked to me the whole day. I had to eat lunch in the bathroom so I wouldn't have to sit by myself in the cafeteria.”

It kills me when she cries. I look at her sobbing head and sigh. “What if you stay with me for the summer? Will you agree to move with Janie later?” I can't believe I said that. My sister stay with me the whole summer? Have I lost my mind? Why don't I just swallow a bottle of pills? The result will be the same. Janie once said that if Iris had been the firstborn, she would have remained an only child. By the end of the summer, I suspect she
will
be an only child.

She stops crying. “You'd let me stay with you for the summer?”

“Maybe. But you'd have to cover your own rent. And pay for your own food. So you'd have to get a job. And you'd have a curfew.”

“I don't have a curfew at home.”

“You should. I had a curfew. You have to follow my rules, and if you don't, you'll be on the first plane to Phoenix.”

“Are you being serious? You'd let me live here?”

“For the summer. Only.”

I call Janie back and fill her in on the new plan.

“You can't even take care of a turtle. How can you take care of a teenager?”

“I was ten, and the turtle escaped. It wasn't my fault.”

“I don't think it's a good idea.”

“Why not? It'll give us a chance to bond. We hardly ever get to spend time together. Pleasepleaseplease?”

“Well…I'll have to discuss it with her father. But maybe it's not such a terrible idea after all. It'll give me the chance to move in peace.”

We were as good as in. At least I won't have to live by myself. Iris will move in from July until the end of August, and by then I should have a real roommate lined up. I might even have a serious boyfriend. Maybe even Andrew. He could move in at the beginning of September…

 

Two days later I drop Iris off at the airport and head straight to Andrew's. He refuses to talk to me on the phone, fine, but he can't just throw me out of his house, can he? I hope he's home. What a pain in the ass to go all the way to Cambridge and find he's not even there.

I park the car and ring his doorbell. He opens the door, wearing sweatpants, a white T-shirt, a baseball hat, and a look that says he's not happy to see me.

“Hi,” I say.

“What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you.”

He sighs. “Come in.”

I follow him down the hall. I keep my coat on because he hasn't told me to take it off.

“Sit down.” He motions to the couch.

Is it and decide to launch right in to it. “I'm sorry. You were right.”

“About what?”

“I've been pathetic. I thought I wanted Jeremy, but I don't. I figured it all out. I know what I want.” And here it goes. “I want you.”

“No, you don't.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No. You don't. You think you do, but you don't.”

Is he trying to annoy me? “Okay, Freud, you tell me. What do I want?”

“You want a boyfriend.”

“So?”

“So I don't want to be with someone who wants a boyfriend. I want to be with someone who wants to be with me.”

This makes no sense. “But I want
you
to be my boyfriend.”

“Look, I don't want to be with you just because you want to have a boyfriend. What part of that sentence don't you understand?” He pulls off his cap, runs his fingers through his hair, and places the it back on his head. “I like you. I like you a lot. You're smart, you're beautiful, you're funny. I like who you are. I like me with you.”

“And I like
me
with
you.
” So where's the problem here? Seems like a match, no?

“But I know that if we start dating, we'll screw it up. You're not over Jeremy yet. You can't be.”

“I know I don't want to be with him. Isn't that enough?”

“No. I don't want to be the rebound guy.”

“But you're not!”

“You need to be on your own for a while. If we're ever going to have a relationship, I need to know it's you I'm relating to. How can I know you if you don't really know yourself? And how can you know yourself if you've never really been alone with yourself?”

I think he's been watching too much
Oprah.
Is he suggesting I go off to Thailand to find myself? Look what happened to Jer: he came back an asshole. Actually, he was always an asshole. I know, I know, Andrew is right. A person can't hop from one serious relationship right into another. But be on my own? I hate being on my own. The whole point is to
not
be on my own. “For how long?”

“That's something you have to figure out for yourself.”

“A month?” I can do a month.

“I don't know, Jack.”

“Two months?” I can do two months.

“Maybe a year.”

A year? Is he on crack? A year on my own? My face must turn white at the suggestion, because he laughs and puts his hand on my shoulder. “It's not that long.”

I brush him away. “What are you going to do, get back together with Jess?”

“No, I broke up with Jess because we didn't click. I don't know why we didn't, but we didn't. You and I click. But now isn't the right time.”

“I liked you better when you were a nihilist.”