Tilt (70 page)

“I care.” But I find myself caring less,

which is really weird. “Promise not

to do something like that again?”

Okay. So, when can we get together?

Just Like That

I forgive him. Just like that,

I feel good about him wanting

to show me off. Just like that,

I think of a way to see him.

Even though it’s a holiday

weekend, Mom has to work

tomorrow. I’ll tell her I want

to go home with Dad tonight.

Hey, maybe she’ll even get

lucky with Dr. Malik. Anthony.

That’s what he said to call him.

Sounds like it’s getting serious.

It must be, because when I go

back out to the living room,

Mom is standing so close to

Anthony there isn’t a hint of light

between them. I don’t think

she’s missed me at all. Gramps

is singing “So This Is Christmas,”

a fitting last song of the night.

Mom’s All for My Plan

Considering how much she used to hassle

me about going over to Dad’s,

I’d say that means

something. But I don’t

care. If she gets a little, maybe

she’ll lighten up. And, more importantly,

maybe she’ll be more understanding

about me wanting to go out.

Everyone packs up

their dishes and bums

leftovers and thanks Aunt Missy

and Uncle Chris for their hospitality.

It
was
a really nice Thanksgiving, despite

the nasty cell phone surprise.

We pile into Cassie’s

burping Volvo. It’s a quiet

ride, everyone fighting an overdose

of L-tryptophan, champagne and sugar.

When We Get to the House

Dad and Cassie stay outside

to smoke. Chad and I carry

the stuff in from the car. Spare

turkey, as Dad called it, and

a plate of mixed pie slices.

As we’re putting the food in

the fridge, Chad says,
What

did Lucas have to say?

I don’t think he’d understand

the showing-me-off thing, or

why it’s kind of okay. “He said

it was a joke. And he apologized.”

Harley,
he huffs.
I’d be very

careful of that guy. He reminds

me of my dad, who always said

all the mean crap he pulled was

a joke. Right up until the day he—

“Lucas isn’t like that. He would never

hurt me. But thanks for worrying.”

That reminds me, though. “You haven’t

heard from your father, have you?”

Actually, I have. He showed up

here one day. Said he wanted to

get reacquainted. Even tried

to say he was sorry. I told him

to go fuck himself. Know what he

said? That Mom had poisoned

me toward him. That she lied.

I remember the day we saw him

at the mall. Will never forget

the panic in her eyes. “She didn’t lie.”

I know. When I was a kid, I had

horrible nightmares. He was in

every one of them. Eventually,

they stopped, but lately they’ve

come back again. I don’t want

you to have nightmares, Harl.

Please think about what I said.

That’s the most sincere he’s ever

sounded. “Thanks, Chad. But don’t

worry. I can take care of myself.”

I Don’t Exactly Have a Nightmare

But I do dream

that I am naked

on a sea-drenched

beach, my sun-licked

skin all golden brown

and ocean-beaded.

Lucas is there, selling

tickets. One dollar

for a look-see, pay-

per-view. I tell him

I’m worth twenty times

that. He laughs at me.

But when I get mad,

he comes over, brushes

my hair off my face,

runs his fingertips

down along my body.

The way I like him to.

And, even though I still

believe I’m worth twenty

a pop, pay-per-view,

I forgive him. And I give him. . . 

I Carry That with Me All Day

Through Black Friday insanity.

Cassie is the shopaholic queen.

Fifty percent off anything sends

her into the outer atmosphere.

Black Friday must have been

invented just for her. And I go along!

Then home for football. And more

football. Chad and my dad cheering

and groaning on the couch. Together.

It’s kind of a weird picture. But good,

I guess, in a guy bonding sort of way.

At least they have something in common.

It is all so domestic, so boring, that by

the time Lucas picks me up I practically

run to the door, ignoring the look Chad

gives me—the one that reminds me to be

careful. I jump in the car. “Where are we

going?” Not that I care, as long as it’s away

from here. There’s something in Lucas’s

smile that makes me wonder if I should

have listened to Chad. But when he says,

There’s a party at Ariel’s,
I stash all doubt.

Don’t know Ariel. But I’m ready to party.

Turns Out

Ariel is Kurt’s big sister. She lives

in a little house in a dicey neighborhood.

Also turns out Ariel is gone for the weekend,

and the party consists of Kurt, Chloe, Lucas

and me. The place is thick with smoke when

we walk in the door, and Chloe’s eyes are almost

as droopy as the love seat Lucas motions for me

to sit on.
I’ll get us something to drink.
He pours

a splash of Coke into tumblers of Bacardi

151. We listen to music and swap Thanksgiving

stories. We smoke. And I am halfway through

my second drink when it hits me how hungry I am.

I’ve been up since six a.m., fueled only by

a small bowl of granola. But when I try to ask

if there’s anything to eat, it comes out, “Istherany . . .”

Which cracks everyone up. So, forget food.

I drink instead. And suddenly the room kind

of spins. It must show, because Lucas asks,

Are you okay? Maybe you should lie down?