Rage: A Love Story (15 page)

S
he calls just as I’m about to crash. “You’re so stupid.”

I take the phone into the hall, sit on the floor with my back to the wall, and flatten my feet against the opposite wall. Tessa used to shimmy up the wall by pushing with her feet and wriggling her back. She called it the spider. As a kid I was always too short, but Tessa would put me in her lap and we’d spider together.

“That was crazy,” Reeve says. She lets out a small laugh. “What did your boss say?”

“Nothing.”

“You didn’t get busted, though, right?”

“Right,” I lie. “I quit. I hated that job anyway.”

“Did security give you her number?”

“What?”

Reeve goes, “She’s a dyke. She had our backs, girl.”

She did? I guess I was too freaked out to register her on my gaydar.

“She wanted you bad.”

“Oh, sure.”

Reeve laughs softly. The laugh fades and she says, “I want you bad.”

I stutter a breath. “Can you come over?”

She doesn’t answer. “What time tomorrow can we pick up our caps and gowns?” she says. “Do you know?”

“No.” I tongue the blood blister under my lip.

“We have rehearsal in the morning, so maybe we pick them up afterwards?”

“We have rehearsal?” I say.

“Where do you live, girl?”

“Here. Come over.”

“I can’t,” she says. “We got back late and Anthony …” Her voice lowers. “Never mind.”

If he hurts her, I’ll kill him. I will.

Reeve says, “I’ll check the schedule, if I can find it. I can’t believe we’re graduating Saturday.”

“I could pick you up tomorrow. At the 7-Eleven or something.”

“No. I’ll come to you.”

We don’t speak for a minute, just cling to our connection.

Reeve says, “I’m in the closet.”

“Oh, right.” She’s the out-est person I know. People sometimes delude themselves into thinking they’re safe, that they blend, or pass. Everyone knows. Even if they suspect, you’re tagged. “Your secret’s safe with me,” I say.

Reeve exhales audibly. “Someday I’ll show you my closet.
It’s deep and dark and there are secrets nobody knows. Secrets no one will ever know.”

“Keep your secrets,” I tell her. “You’re starting life over with me.”

When Reeve breathes out, I breathe in. I close my eyes and will us together.

She says, “I can’t use the phone after nine. What time is it?”

I don’t know. I’m sitting in the dark so I’m guessing it’s after nine. “What happens if you get caught?”

“You don’t want to know.”

My imagination fills the blank spaces. Don’t hurt her. Please, God.

“I’m pushing my luck. Better fly.”

“I love you,” I say.

She doesn’t say it back, but she’s thinking it. I know she is.

I forget, or never knew, that you have to pay ninety dollars when you pick up your cap and gown. If you don’t order early. If you forget to order, or if you live day to day, in Joyland, for Reeve, with no plans for the future.

Reeve says, “I didn’t forget. I just wasn’t sure we were graduating. I skipped a lot this year. And Robbie …” She glances over at him. “Can you cover us? I’ll pay you back.”

I have my checkbook in my purse, but I still need to pay my car insurance, and my final check from Bling’s will be minuscule now. If I even get one. The guy taking money for grad gear doesn’t call the bank to verify my balance, thank God.

The ladies who are fitting robes in the gym can’t get Robbie to drop his case. He shifts it from hand to hand, holding tight. Now I imagine he has a shitload from Bling’s in there.

We aren’t the only people who waited until the last minute and have to settle for leftovers. Our gowns are faded and shabby; mine’s too short; Robbie’s is frayed. While Reeve’s getting hers from a rack in the back, Britt appears.

“Is she making you pay yet?” Britt asks.

“Huh?”

“All she does is take and take and take.”

I click my tongue at Britt.

She says, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She slings her robe hanger over her shoulder and exits.

I go find Reeve. “Can we leave these at your place?” She folds her gown over her arm.

“Do you plan to spend the night?” I ask.

She says, “If only.”

Robbie sniffs his cap. What does he smell? Our school colors are jade and pewter. We’re going to look like a sea of algae.

“I’m stoked,” Reeve says as we meander down the main hall from the gym. “I never thought we’d make it.” Her eyes glisten. “We’ll never walk these halls again.”

I snake an arm around her waist and she rests her head on my shoulder. “Are you going to miss it?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says. “Aren’t you?”

“Seriously? No,” I admit.

“Not the school part, yeah. But the rest of it…”

The rest is what I’m terrible at—feeling a part of anything.

In the quad, seniors mill around and some girl calls out to Reeve. Reeve takes my hand and heads in that direction. All
the years I dreamed about this, being together with her. The reality is even better than the fantasy.

The girls are the LBDs. Reeve says, “You guys know Johanna.”

They all look at me like, Who? Except Britt. The rest of them check me out, sort of undress me with their eyes—not an unpleasant feeling.

One of the girls asks Reeve, “Are you still going to Florida State?”

Reeve says, “Sure. How about you?”

The conversation dulls in my ears and I stare at Reeve. She didn’t tell me about going to college out of state. We haven’t talked about the future. Yet.

Britt studies my face, then smiles. It isn’t a happy smile. More … sympathy, or pity?

Pity you, Britt
.

Robbie’s case bumps my leg and I turn. He bumps me again. I mouth, Quit it.

He bumps me again.

I fake-jab an elbow into his gut.

Reeve is talking to the LBDs about Pride Day. When is it? Where should they meet? This beam inside me lights. I’ve always wanted to go to Pride, and now my first time will be with my girlfriend.

On the way to the car, I ask her, “Are you really going to Florida State?”

She eyes Robbie ahead of us and her whole body seems to deflate. “What do you think?”

* * *

My arms are full of robes and I feel weighted down with the realization that Reeve feels trapped. Novak rushes out the sliding glass door and flings her arms around me, almost flattening me. “Oh my fucking God, we’re graduating! Here, let me help you.”

We get wrapped up together in the billowing plastic cleaner bags. “Thanks.”

Novak stoops to pick up one of the caps. “I just talked to Tessa.” She clomps behind me up the stairs. “She’s having her tubes tied.”

I stop dead on the landing. “When?”

Novak shrugs. “She didn’t say.”

All Tessa used to talk about with me and her friends was how she was getting married as soon as possible and having kids while she was young, not like our parents. Back when I worshipped her, when she considered me a friend. She’d spider up the wall, the phone cradled to her ear. “I want six kids, at least.” She’d wink at me.

Martin made lists of baby names: Emanuel, Aidan, Jake—wait. That’s what he was doing on the laptop the day Tessa—

They were having a boy.

“Let me get the door.” Novak takes the keys from my hand.

Tessa is giving up on something she desperately wants.

Novak opens the apartment door and we step inside. I heap the robes on the divan while Novak removes my bag from my shoulder.

“Stop it.” I snatch it out of her hands. “What do you want?”

“God. Why are you so pissed at me?”

“Why am I pissed? You kissed me.” You used me, I think.

“Dante dumped me,” she says. Immediately, she adds, “Don’t look so shocked.”

Do I?

“We both knew it was coming.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “He was just waiting for the right time and place, when it would hurt me the most.” Her eyes are puffy and she looks demolished.

“I’m … sorry,” I say. “What a jerk.”

“I don’t know what to do, Johanna.” Tears film her red eyes. “He wants me out today. I know I can’t live here. I just need someone to talk to.” She blinks and a tear spills over the rim. “Just talk to me.”

God. God, Novak.

She buries her face in her arms and bawls.

At the hardest time in my life, when I was coming out, she was there for me. The whole time Mom was dying. She was the only one. Novak.

“Novak,” I say softly. “Come here.”

Night descends and the dark is profound. I’m falling, falling down a canyon wall into a river of syrup. She flows around me, through me. Her lips on mine are sticky sweet and I melt into the riverbed
.

We’re dragonflies on lily pads, mermaids swimming free. Her body wraps around me and fills the emptiness inside until I’m full to bursting at the gills
.

My fingers tangle hair; the long, golden, silky strands twist around my fingers, pulling tight, fingers turning purple. I close my eyes and dream. She takes me into Joyland
.

• • •

R
eeve calls to tell me she and Robbie will be at my place by nine to pick up their caps and gowns. “I love you,” I say.

It’s
you
I love.

She wears short shorts and a tank. She smells like heavy perfume or incense, and I bury my face in her hair. She whispers, “Me too.”

I knew it.

Robbie has on a dress shirt that’s yellowed and wrinkled, like right off the rack at Goodwill. Reeve says, “I should’ve come earlier so we could celebrate in private.”

God
. I kiss her to delirium.

A knock sounds on the door and I panic.

Robbie says, “I’ll get it.”

“Don’t—”

He opens it to Tessa.

She delays a smile before going, “Hi.” She doesn’t enter. She stands at the threshold and looks at her watch. “Graduation starts at eleven, right? Do we need tickets?”

I blink to Robbie, then Reeve.

“Because when I graduated, family members had to have tickets. It was limited seating.”

I say, “It’s outside on the football field.”

Reeve adds, “If you want to be in the bleachers, you should get there early. Otherwise, people stand or sit on the grass.”

Tessa stares at me. What?

“Here.” She holds out an envelope.

More money? I never asked for money. All I wanted … On the front is printed:
CANCELLATION NOTICE
. Shit.

“You’re not driving without insurance,” Tessa says.

Watch me
.

“There’s usually a thirty-day grace period, so you should be okay. Where’s the money I gave you?”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to glance over at the candleholders. I say, “I have it.”

Tessa says sternly, “Pay the bill, Johanna.”

I toss the envelope on the divan.

She goes, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

I scan my outfit. I have on shorts too, a tee, and my Converses. “Yeah.”
What do you care?

Tessa’s eyes infiltrate my brain, where a steel grate slams down. “Could we get some pictures of you in your cap and gown?” Her attention shifts to Reeve. “All of you?”

I turn away. “We weren’t going to get dressed until we got to—”

“Pictures would be cool,” Reeve cuts in. She heads toward the bedroom. “Where is everything, Johanna?”

“In here.” I hung our gowns in the coat closet. Robbie wanders out of the kitchen with the bag of Doritos. “You want some?” He extends it to Tessa.

“No. Thanks.” She presses a hand to her stomach.

I notice then she doesn’t look well.

Reeve takes the bundle of robes from me and sorts through them. She hands me mine and Robbie his.

Tessa says, “Do you need any help?”

She looks so pale and sad. “No,” I say. “But thanks.”

Reeve asks her, “Which side does the tassel go on?”

“Left,” Tessa answers. “Then you flip it to the right at the end of the ceremony.”

“Cool.” Reeve smiles at her.

Tessa says to me, “Come downstairs when you’re dressed. We can take pictures in the backyard.” She stalls in the doorway, like there’s more. “Is your family coming?” she asks Reeve.

“Oh yeah. Try and stop them.” Reeve removes her cap from the bag.

Tessa says, “Maybe we could all sit together.”

Reeve shoots me a panicked look.

“There’ll be too many of them for you all to sit together,” I say.

“Right.” Reeve doesn’t take her eyes off me. “They won’t even all fit in the bleachers.”

Tessa’s eyes pierce me.
What, Tessa? Say it
.

“How do you get this thing on?” Robbie garbles through a
mouthful of chips. He’s gotten himself all twisted up in his robe.

Reeve drops her cap on the divan to shake him loose.

Tessa’s footsteps sound on the stairs.

I say out of nowhere, “She’s going to have her tubes tied.”

Reeve says, “Really? Why?”

“She doesn’t want to get pregnant again.”

“Duh. I mean, why doesn’t Martin get a vasectomy?”

Robbie goes, “Ow. You stuck me.”

Reeve snaps, “Stand still or I will.”

“They shouldn’t give up yet,” I say. “They’re still young. They should keep trying.”

Reeve locates a straight pin in Robbie’s hem. “When’s she having the operation? Maybe you can talk her out of it.”

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. She told Novak.”

Reeve says, “She told Novak before you?”

I remove the plastic bag from my robe and think aloud, “She likes Novak better.”

Reeve turns and asks, “When did you see Novak?”

I unclip my cap from the hanger. I separate the little plastic bag with the tassel, wishing I hadn’t brought up this subject.

Reeve waits for an answer.

“Yesterday.”

“She came here?”

This conversation can’t continue. “Do you tie the tassel onto this knobby thing?”

Robbie says, “My zipper’s stuck.”

“Stop pulling.” Reeve slugs him. “You broke it.” She fists him again and I feel it in my chest.

“Here, let me help him.” I take Reeve’s balled fist and squeeze it gently. “You get dressed.”

“Congratulations.” Martin hugs me, then Reeve. With Robbie, he goes, “Dude,” and they strike knuckles.

Martin drops his gaze. “What do you have there?”

Oh God. The case. Is Robbie actually bringing it to graduation?

“Is that a sax?” Martin’s eyes gleam. “I played the sax in band. Can I see it?” He holds out his hand.

Robbie gives him the case.

Just like that. Martin squats to open it. “I think I still have mine in the garage. Alto or tenor?” he asks. He snaps open the clasps.

Robbie crouches down beside him. “It’s not a saxophone.”

Tessa calls, “Hurry up. Martin, what are you doing?”

Robbie relatches the case, stands, and grasps the handle.

Martin goes, “Show me later.”

Robbie nods.

Tessa lines us up by the forsythia bush, whose yellow flowers are in full blaze. She snaps two or three pictures, then rearranges us. She says, “Can I get a couple of each of you alone?”

I hate having my picture taken.

“Smile,” Tessa says.

I look more natural when I don’t smile.

Martin goes, “I want in.” He runs behind us and snakes his arms across our shoulders.

Tessa centers a shot.

Martin says, “Let me get one with you and Johanna.”

Reeve must feel my muscles tense, because she says, “We better go. What time is it?”

I say, “We’re already late. You guys go ahead; I’ll meet you at the car.”

I rush upstairs for my bag and keys. As I lock the door, Martin calls up the steps, “We’ll give you a shout-out when you’re on stage. Wave so we can get a picture.”

Tessa says, “Johanna?”

I launch off the last step and head for Reeve and Robbie, who are halfway across the yard.

“Johanna!”

Reeve flings out a stiff arm to block me. “Go see what she wants.” Reeve widens her eyes at me.

Only for you
.

“Congratulations,” Tessa says.

“Thanks.” We stand there awkwardly.

Tessa picks up a box off the gas grill and hands it to me. It’s wrapped in our school colors. I glance over my shoulder at Reeve, who’s waiting by my car. “Open it,” Tessa says. “You have time.”

Quickly, I rip off the wrapping to find a blue plastic case. It’s hinged. I open it, and gasp.

“Oh my God.” It’s a gold watch with a diamond-studded crystal. Are they real diamonds? “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Put it on.”

Now?

Tessa takes the case from me and unhooks the watch from the velveteen base. “This isn’t the original case. I lost it in the move.” Her nails are manicured and polished, which they never are. “Mom gave me this for my graduation.”

A lump rises in my throat.

Tessa flips my wrist over and adds, “I know she’d want you to have it.” She clasps the watch.

I can’t even look at it or I’ll start bawling.

“It’s too big,” Tessa says. “I can take it in and get the band adjusted.”

“No.” I back up a step. “It’s fine. I like it loose.” My arm drops and the watch is gobbled up by the sleeve of my robe.

Tessa hugs me. Not tight. She lets go. I try to say thank you or thanks or I love you or I’m sorry, I miss Mom, don’t you, don’t you wish she was here? Do you hate me, please don’t hate me anymore. Please, Tessa, please?