Second Helpings (31 page)

Im sorry.

For what? You didnt dump me on Valentines Day to fuck the class slut. My voice was not nearly as lighthearted as I had wanted it to sound. And as soon as I said fuck , I felt bad for saying it. I didnt feel like I should curse in a home for the elderlyyou know, with so many of them ready to pass on and all. Its about as close to church as I get.

Hes not f Marcus stopped himself from making my mistake. Hes not having sex with her.

I snorted in disbelief.

No, really, he said, shifting his weight off the hearth so he was leaning toward me, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet. Hes not. He has no intention to, either. Apparently Manda feels that she misused her feminine powers and now wants to abstain from sex.

She wants to be a born-again virgin?

Apparently.

Susan Faludi bullshit!

Classic, he said, nodding his head in agreement.

Well, I hope they are very happy not having sex together. But what I dont understand is why he had to break up with me to not have sex with her.

The more I talked about this, the less it made sense. Marcus knew there was no use arguing with me until I finished, so he just bounced up and down in his sneakers.

Why didnt he just not have sex with both of us?

He shrugged.

Why did you try to get us together in the first place?

He leaned in close and put his hand on my knee. And just like the first time he put his hand on my kneeon the cot in the nurses office, right before I peed in the cupa current of electricity shot from my knee, buzzed my bod, and overloaded my circuitry.

But unlike that first time, it was a gesture meant to communicate sincerity, not sin.

Right?

I tried to get you together because I thought you could make each other happy, he said. I really thought you two could be happy together.

Really?

Really.

I dont think I was ever convinced of that.

Then why did you bother dating him at all?

It got very quiet in the library as I tried to come up with an answer. In the silence, I could hear a familiar melody coming from the rec room. It really was time for Musical Memories because that sweeping piano and those swooning vocals could belong to only one adult contemporary artist.

Barry Manilow, I said.

Marcus cocked his head to the ceiling, then smiled.

Yes. Its none other than the showman of our time.

Christ, this conversation was getting nostalgic.

Do you still have that Greatest Hits eight-track in the Cadillac?

His eyes darted around the room. Can you keep a secret?

You know I can.

I listened to it so much, he said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, it blew up. Literally. Smoke and everything.

Youre lying to make me laugh! I said, in between no-holds-barred cackles.

I wish.

When I remembered what question I was avoiding by talking about Mr. Copacabana, it got quiet again. Barry sang: Im ready to take a chance again / Ready to put my love on the line with you

There you have it, I said, clapping my hands together.

Have what?

The answer.

Elaborate.

I was taking a chance. I decided to be very unlike me and take a chance on Len. And look what happened. I, unlike Barry, dont think Ill be ready to take a chance ever again.

Marcus slid his butt back on the hearth. He pulled out a lighter. Flickclickflickclickflickclick .

Did you know that during the teen years, the brain goes through an intense developmental phase comparable to that of a newborn baby?

Is that another conversational construct? I asked.

No, he said. I have a point.

Make it.

During that phase, the cells and connections that are frequently used survive and flourish. And those that arent used just die away.

Point, please.

It was good that you gave Len a chance, even though it didnt work out. You had to exercise that part of your brain, the part that lets you fall for someone, otherwise youd never be able to fall in love with anyone. Ever.

I gazed up at Marcus, who was now standing long and lean in front of me, all mischievous half-smile, sly eyes, and glass-cut cheekbones. I wanted to ask, Hey, Marcus, what happens to people with the opposite prob-lem? The ones who fall three dozen times, plus three ?

Instead I said thanks for the Psych lesson and left.

Later, when I got home, I consulted my textbook and found that Marcus wasnt bullshitting about the brain stuff. The frontal cortex overproduces cells during puberty, and the brain has to get rid of some of them. Doing strengthens neural pathways and the cells survive. Not doing weakens them, and the cells die. So Marcus was right about the use-it-or-lose-it theory.

But the applicationlove!was dubious at best.

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March 1st

Dear Hope,

I NEVER thought Id see the day when two of your daily e-mails sandwiched a message from none other than PAUL PARLIPIANO. My crush to end all crushes! Gay man of my dreams! OOOH!

I still cant believe it. And how sweet was it that he apologized for not writing back sooner? Between the World Economic Summit and the Salt Lake City Olympics, hes had a lot of nonviolent protests to organize this semester. Since I last talked to you, he actually INVITED me (via e-mail) to join him in PACOs biggest nondiscriminatory demonstration against all forms of tyranny, the Annual Snake March (for the month of March, get it?).

I was like, Yes! Ill be there! That is so COOL! even though a trip to NYC could interrupt the Toe Lint Super Bowl and I had no idea what the hell a Snake March even was. Thanks to Google, I now know that its when a huge crowd walks haphazardly around the streets to cause traffic jams and other forms of low-level mayhem. Its an antiauthoritarian march that reflects democracy because theres no line leader and everyone decides which direction the group goes.

SOUNDS LIKE FUN FUN FUN! More fun than moping in my bedroom at least. And its right in the middle of spring break, so I wont even have to skip more school to make it. How fortuitous is that?

By the way, he still thinks Im a shoo-in for Columbia, which is another thing I needed to hear. He assures me that I shouldnt worry, that the school is notoriously unorganized and famous for sending out its acceptances long after every other Ivy League school. I hope hes right.

Leave it to a homosexual to get me out of my Guys Suck malaise. Is it me, or are gay guys the only good guys? Or am I just a masochist?

Fag-haggingly* yours, J.

* I mean this in the most honest and least politically incorrect way possible. Really.

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the fourth

Today was Len, Manda, and Scottys first day back to school after their suspensions. I had a week without them to practice conducting myself with quiet, dignified grace.

Thats the classiest way of dealing with bein jilted, Gladdie had assured me during my last visit.

Gladdie, I said skeptically, Ive never seen you conduct yourself with quiet, dignified grace.

Thats cause I aint never been jilted, J.D.!

Who would dump a gal with a mug like this? Moe said, holding Gladdies face in his hands and placing a loud, smacking kiss on her wobbly, painted lips.

I guess I have a dumpable mug, I said.

That would have been the perfect moment for Marcus to come up to me from behind and offer me some kind of assurance that everything was going to be okay. Something like, Jessica, I would never dump your mug.

But he didnt. He wasnt anywhere to be seen in Silver Meadows that day, not that I was looking. (Okay. I was looking a little bit.) Marcus hadnt said much of anything to me since our library chat. He avoided eye contact and barely said Hey to me. I figured his loyalties were with Len after all.

Anyway, I vowed not to give Len, or Manda, or the PHS gossip-mongers the satisfaction of seeing me upset. However, I didnt even get to homeroom before I realized how difficult this was going to be to pull off.

Omigod! Sara shrieked when she saw me in the hall before homeroom. Dont you just want to die when you see Len and Manda together?

I havent seen them.

Look!

Then she grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me in the opposite direction, just in time to see Len gently kiss Manda on the hand in parting, like he was a knight and she was a goddamned damsel or something.

Quiet, dignified grace, I thought to myself.

Omigod! Dont you want to die ?

No, I said calmly. Not really.

If my boyfriend humiliated me the way Len leveled you , I would want to die !

Well, its a good thing that you dont have a boyfriend, isnt it? I replied in a tone as sickly sweet and artificial as Equal. Come to think of it, youve never had a boyfriend, have you?

That shut her up and sent her stomping into homeroom.

I had my eyes closed and my head pressed against my locker door when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I had a very definite idea of who I wanted it to be.

Urn. Jess.

Instead I got the last person I wanted to see.

Quiet, dignified grace , I reminded myself as I opened my eyes.

What is it, Len?

I just want to. Um. Apologize for hurting you.

I held up my hands to cut him off.

First of all, spare me your apology because its more about making yourself feel less guilty than it is about looking for forgiveness. Second of all, dont flatter yourself by thinking you hurt me. Youre either an egomaniac or a psychotic like your mother if you think you hurt me.

Yeah, thats right. I sunk to a yo mama level. Whatever. He deserved it.

You blindsided me, thats for sure. And I was pissed off. Not so much about you hooking up with Manda, because everyone knows youre just the latest trick in her hobag. No, I was pissed for only one reason: You broke up with me before I had the chance to break up with you. And that makes me an even bigger asshole than you are. But at least I know it!

When I finished, there was applause. I was so taken with my tirade that I hadnt noticed the crowd of onlookers. Bridget, Pepe, Scotty,

Taryn, and a whole bunch of faces I didnt even recognize were all clapping as Len slunk away, feeling every inch the huge sphincter he is.

The last bell rang, and the bodies scattered toward their respective homerooms. Thats when I finally heard his voice from behind.

So much for quiet, dignified grace, Marcus said, his lips pressed together, and his arms folded against the faded black MONDAY on his chest.

Not my style, I said. Im more of a loud, offensive mess.

Yes, he said, slowly breaking into the grin I know so well. Yes, you are.

As we walked into homeroom together, I decided that his assurance of okayness was better late than never.

the ninth

I just came back from the innermost circle of hell, and its decorated in Laura Ashley florals.

My parents forced me go to the Piedmont University tea being held for New Jersey applicants they are trying to woo into their honors program.

But I already told you, my first choice is Williams.

Jessie, my mom said. Piedmont is throwing money at you!

And as the ones footing the bill for your college education, my father said, for the bizillionth time, we are telling you to go.

I should have told them about Columbia. I should have just ended this whole charade right then and there. But I didnt. Because I suck.

Fine, I said with an exhausted sigh.

I dragged myself upstairs and got dressed.

I will take this opportunity to mention that all the months of no running and yoga have finally paid off. Ive gained some weight, but in a good way. I dont know how much because I never weigh myself, but its enough flesh to fill out the butt of my cords and stretch the straight and vertical lines of my ribbed turtleneck into two almost-A-cup arcs. Pepe actually commented on the former last week.

Damn! Tu es belle !

(Damn! You are fine!)

Vraiment?

(Really?)

Jaime une fille avec un peu de jonque dans le tronc.

(I like a girl with a little junk in the trunk.)