Authors: Paul Griffin
Stay with Me (11 page)
“Except I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Why?”
“Poor eye contact.”
I force myself to look into her eyes, but by now she’s looking down at my boner. “Wow,” she says.
I can’t tell if that means
wow, that’s huge
or
wow, that’s it?
wow, that’s huge
or
wow, that’s it?
She’s moving her hand now. “Cool,” she says.
“Definitely.”
You can tell she doesn’t quite know how to do it, but no way I’m embarrassing myself to show her, and anyway it doesn’t take long, and aren’t I just embarrassed as hell anyway now with no tissues for the cleanup. She pulls a fold of Taco Bell napkins from her pocket.
I check to see if Boo is still asleep. No, she’s looking at me. She looks totally bored.
Getting jacked off in front of a dog. I am lame.
Takes me a bit to catch my breath. I keep saying, “Wow. That was like ... wow.” Natural born idiot twice struck by lightning.
Céce’s turned away, but she says, “Why do you pinch the inside of your wrist like that?”
I never realized I did. I stop doing it. “I don’t know how to ask this any better, so I’ll just say it. Like, can I do something for you now?”
“Like what?”
“Whatever you want.”
And then she starts crying real hard. I knew I would ruin it. “I’m sorry.”
“No no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” And even though she’s crying she’s sort of laughing too, and she’s hugging me hard and stroking my face and kissing my neck, and we just stay like that for a time, and I get to wondering if maybe God loves me a little. I roll her onto her back and talk between kisses. “Been thinking.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah. I don’t want you to be embarrassed of me.”
“What are you talking about?”
I comb her hair with my fingers and study its shininess. “Serious: Why do you like me?”
She thinks about it. “You’re like the only guy I know our age who isn’t retarded.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
She bites my lip. It hurts good.
“Maybe I’ll head on back to school,” I say.
She stops kissing me. She pulls back a little to look at me. She nods. “I think that would be really good.”
“I don’t mean like
school
school. Dog training school. Tony sicced Vic on me about it. They both said I’d do real good there. Actually, they said I’d do well. I almost have to believe that, because the Tone would never lie.”
school
school. Dog training school. Tony sicced Vic on me about it. They both said I’d do real good there. Actually, they said I’d do well. I almost have to believe that, because the Tone would never lie.”
“No, he would never lie.”
“Vic would lie, though.”
“I know, but only to do a good thing, like make an anonymous donation to pay for some kid’s school, and then the kid says, ‘Vic was that you?’ and Vic says, ‘What are you talking about?’”
“You been talking to him about it.”
“He’s been talking to me,” she says.
“Bit of a meddler, Vic is, huh?”
“He knows what he knows.”
“Just do what he says, and you’ll be fine.”
She’s got a good grip on my hand. “Then we should just do what he says.”
“I keep this Bible box hidden under my bed. It’s pretty full of money, enough for the school. I need to spend it anyway, before my old man finds it. I just want you to be proud of me.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“I want to get rich for you, you know?”
“You don’t have to get rich for me.”
“I’m gonna do it anyway.”
“Just keep kissing me.”
“I tell you, Céce.”
“Tell me.”
I want to tell her I’ve got a picture of us. Her and me together forever. But it’s too soon. “I’ll tell you sometime.”
“Tell me now.”
“Sometime.” I smile and look away and she tries to get me to look at her, and we’re practically wrestling till we end up in a cuddle. We’re on our backs and holding hands, and she’s looking at me and I’m looking up at a sky that’s got just one pretty little cloud in it shaped like a bent top hat. Boo tries to wiggle between us, and the fireworks start. They’re far away. The crackles are soft, and the hiss can’t reach me. The lights are bright and pretty and red, white and pale blue, and it occurs to me: I’m happy.
THE THIRTY-EIGHTH DAY . . .
(Sunday, July 19, late morning)
CÉCE:
Marcy shows up at my house with a bag of wet laundry. “My mother’s drying a
blanket
. I’ll be forty-six by the time the thing’s not damp anymore.” She pulls out my clothes to dry hers, and then she yanks open our fridge. She taps a head of lettuce and says, “I’ll have that,” and sits and waits for me to serve her. Our ratty old Maytag drones
eeeooooeek-
clu
-clump
,
eeeoooeek-
clu
-clump
as it spins Marcy’s Skechers.
blanket
. I’ll be forty-six by the time the thing’s not damp anymore.” She pulls out my clothes to dry hers, and then she yanks open our fridge. She taps a head of lettuce and says, “I’ll have that,” and sits and waits for me to serve her. Our ratty old Maytag drones
eeeooooeek-
clu
-clump
,
eeeoooeek-
clu
-clump
as it spins Marcy’s Skechers.
I rip the lettuce twice, dump it onto a plate that might or might not be clean, squirt it with expired diet dressing, this raspberry vinaigrette thing that tastes like mouthwash, not to mention it’s been left out of the fridge since yesterday. “Here you go, Queen.” I slap down the plate.
“You can’t spare half a carrot?” she says.
Here I am with my PBJ, licking Skippy off the knife. Totally nick my tongue. “Canned beets?”
“Bleh. Like an ant farm in here.”
“Cornbread crumbs.”
“Idea: vacuum. You guys fuck yet?”
“What?
No
.”
No
.”
“Serious?”
“How many weeks should I wait before I give him a blow job?”
Marcy sneezes Orange Crush. “
Weeks?
Are you flippin’ retarded? The only rule with bj’s is never on the first date, except if the date lasts longer than six hours. What are you waiting for? Céce, face it, he’s a summer distraction, jump and dump.”
Weeks?
Are you flippin’ retarded? The only rule with bj’s is never on the first date, except if the date lasts longer than six hours. What are you waiting for? Céce, face it, he’s a summer distraction, jump and dump.”
“He’s the one.”
“Oh. My.
God
. This is sad. Look, here’s the math: Céce Brainwave Vaccuccia plus Mack Moron equals zero. He should be with somebody like
me.
”
God
. This is sad. Look, here’s the math: Céce Brainwave Vaccuccia plus Mack Moron equals zero. He should be with somebody like
me.
”
“He’s not a moron, okay? He has . . . Look, you don’t know him.”
“And you do? What, you been together a month yet?”
“Since Anthony dropped the hint, it’ll be forty days this coming Tuesday.”
“What are you guys doing for your anniversary? You are
so
gay. Cheech, this boy has one purpose in your life: to break you in.” She pulls my hair to bring our faces close so I have no choice but to look into her totally overdone eyes. Quarter-inch-thick makeup coats her cheeks. The girl came over here to do laundry. “By summer’s end you’ll have screwed each other a hundred and fifty times—hopefully. At that point, you’ll be thoroughly sick of each other. Perfect. He’ll move on to some other crappy dishwasher job in some new crappy restaurant where he’ll bone some other cutie-pie waitress, and you’ll move on to some new crappy school after you rock the G and T, and you’ll bone some new cutie-pie guy, except this one will have an actual working brain. New is good, chica. Ripping out your heart for a guy who didn’t finish junior high? Not so much.”
so
gay. Cheech, this boy has one purpose in your life: to break you in.” She pulls my hair to bring our faces close so I have no choice but to look into her totally overdone eyes. Quarter-inch-thick makeup coats her cheeks. The girl came over here to do laundry. “By summer’s end you’ll have screwed each other a hundred and fifty times—hopefully. At that point, you’ll be thoroughly sick of each other. Perfect. He’ll move on to some other crappy dishwasher job in some new crappy restaurant where he’ll bone some other cutie-pie waitress, and you’ll move on to some new crappy school after you rock the G and T, and you’ll bone some new cutie-pie guy, except this one will have an actual working brain. New is good, chica. Ripping out your heart for a guy who didn’t finish junior high? Not so much.”
“You. Don’t.
Know
him. You don’t know us. We see each other every day.”
Know
him. You don’t know us. We see each other every day.”
“So do me and you.”
“Yeah, but me and Mack don’t get sick of each other. We
do
stuff together.”
do
stuff together.”
“Hunting for satellites up at the reservoir with his
nasty
looking pit bull? I’d rather tweeze my mother’s shoulder hair.”
nasty
looking pit bull? I’d rather tweeze my mother’s shoulder hair.”
“We tell each other things.”
“What things?”
“We treasure each other’s
secrets,
Marce. This is forever, him and me. I
feel
it.”
secrets,
Marce. This is forever, him and me. I
feel
it.”
“
Yeah
, and I’m so sure he feels it too. Wake up, Céce: He’s after you for your rack. I gotta get outta here before I blow a half a head of rotten iceberg all over your kitchen. Call me when my sneakers are dry.”
Yeah
, and I’m so sure he feels it too. Wake up, Céce: He’s after you for your rack. I gotta get outta here before I blow a half a head of rotten iceberg all over your kitchen. Call me when my sneakers are dry.”
I’m trying to lead the ants outside with a rotten banana when my phone rings. Note to self: Either get a new phone or figure out how to change Hannah Montana ring tone.
“Yo!”
Anthony says via live video stream courtesy of a handheld phone.
Anthony says via live video stream courtesy of a handheld phone.
“Yo,” I say.
“Where’s Ma?”
“Put her in the shower on a plastic lawn chair with a sippy cup full of high-test coffee.”
“Nice!”
“Oh my god, why are they not feeding you down there? What happened to your hair?”
“Forget about me. What’s up with you? Quick, I have like two minutes before my sergeant gets back. Why so mopey, sis?”
“Marcy’s a bitch.”
“C’mon, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. The G and T. I’m just nervous about it.”
“Liar. How’s Mack?”
I fail miserably at trying not to grin. “He doesn’t own a computer, and he hates TV. He doesn’t own a
phone
.”
phone
.”
“And this means?”
“Opposites attract.”
“Knew
you guys would work out. The peace medal. It’s doing its thing.”
you guys would work out. The peace medal. It’s doing its thing.”
“It’s
so
doing its thing. My ESP is in overdrive: We’re meant to be together. It’s real, Ant, the way I feel. I swear.”
so
doing its thing. My ESP is in overdrive: We’re meant to be together. It’s real, Ant, the way I feel. I swear.”
“A hopeful Céce Vaccuccia. Stunning. Yo, I gotta go. Tell Ma I love her like a crazy person.”
Sunday nights we close at nine. Dinner shift is almost over. Mack’s helping me restock. We’re upstairs grabbing linens and each other. I push him against the wall and suck his lips. “If I told you I had a really important request, and that I needed you to say yes, would you ever say no to me?”
“If it’s that important, then no.”
“I want to go to your place.”
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t think. Just say yes.”
He nods, but he’s miserable. “Hopefully he won’t be home,” he says.
We walk down this dark dirty alley lined with old mattresses, to the basement. The lights are on. We hear staticky music. “He’s home,” Mack says. “Let’s go to the roof.”
“I want to see your room.”
“My
room?
”
room?
”
“What you hang on your walls, baseball crap or movie posters. Whether you’re PS3 or Wii, the color of your bedspread.”
“Céce, I sleep on a foldout cot in the kitchen. There’s nothing of me in that place, except that Bible box full of money, and even that’ll be gone soon.”
“At some point, don’t I have to meet the people in your life?”
“The only person in my life is you. Please. The roof.”
Up here, above the streetlight glare, no moon, I see lots of satellites. The wind comes cool, and the sheets float. Pigeons leave the hutch roof, circle and resettle.
I’m sitting cross-legged, scratching under Boo’s jaw. Boo’s sitting between my legs, facing me. Her head rests on my shoulder to look at Mack, who’s sitting behind me, against the half wall that fences off the roof. He’s giving me the most righteous neck rub. “It occurs to me,” I say.
“Uh-huh?”
“I have a pit bull in my lap. This pit bull has a massive head. This head is largely jaw. This jaw is less than six inches from my face, and I, a face bite victim, am petting this pit bull, and my hands aren’t shaking.”
“I’m telling you,” he says.
“You’ve cured me.”
“You cured you.”
“In a month. Gently. Little by little. Unbelievable. I’ll take her.”
He kisses me, but I push him away.
“Under one condition,” I say.
“Anything,” he says.
“The first night she sleeps over, you sleep over too.”
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