To be Maria (12 page)

            "Serve in a top-line restaurant; that's what I did in Madrid and I made loads of money. Besides, I know how to work the system, and it can't be that much different here in Canada. Eventually, though, I want to go to hairdressing school."

            "Well, once you have a serving job, you can get me one. I would far rather work as a waitress than do what I'm doing now."

            Without responding, Maria pulls the car back onto the highway. They drive in silence until she turns onto the street where Shondra lives. "Well, here we are." The carport lights turn on instantly, casting their bright glow on the vehicle.

            "Is this Shondra's house?"

            "Yes." Maria's heart pounds hard against her chest.

            "What are you doing, Maria?"

            "I'm going to get my things."

            "Well, are you planning on moving back to your parents' house?"

            "Hell no."

            "Well…if you have no other place to go, you can stay with me."

            Maria rolls her eyes skyward. Does she really want to live with Anya? Her house is so small and rundown. And where will she sleep? "Okay. But as soon as I get a job, I'm gonna find my own apartment. Anyway, I better get my stuff before Shondra shows up. You stay here."

            "Okay."

            The agony in her voice makes Maria's heart sink.
Wrong response, Maria. You've just opened Anya's wound once again. When will you end this tirade?

            Maria knocks on the front door. There is no answer. She waits for a moment, her ear pressed against the cold surface of the door. The only sound she can hear is the scream of an emergency vehicle siren off in the distance. This time, she bangs her fist on the door. She waits, but again, Maria is met with silence.
Crap! Shondra's parents couldn't have gone out as well. I don't have a key. Damn!
She gropes around for the doorbell in the dark and when she finally locates it on the wall next to the door frame, she presses it once. Twice. She hears the rich, melodic tune echo throughout the spacious, two-level house. At last, she hears the sound of footsteps progressing down the laminate stairs. Maria exhales her breath in one long sigh.

            Within seconds, she is standing face to face with Shondra's mother. The smile on her heart-shaped face vanishes when she sees the disgruntled look on Maria's face.

            "Maria, I thought you were out with Shondra. I didn't expect you to be back here so soon. Where is Shondra?

            Maria begins to feel nauseous. "Shondra is still at Jose's house. I left because I'm not feeling very well."

            "What's wrong, honey?" Mrs. Kreviak says, her crumpled eyebrows giving the appearance that she is on the verge of tears.

            "I…I'm not sick, just…I'm really sorry, Mrs. Kreviak, but I need to get my things. I can't stay here anymore."

            "Why not? We were so happy to have you here. Maria, whatever happened, you can tell me. I promise that it will not leave this household."

            Maria's heart races.
I can't tell her what really happened. Or should I? No, I can't. I'll just make more trouble for us if I do.
"Um…I just found out that my mother is critically ill and I need to be with her."

            "Oh honey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she says, wrapping her slender arms around Maria's waist. "That is terrible news. I hope she gets better soon. Very soon."

            Maria stands as still as a statue. She fights the sudden urge to vomit. The last thing she wants to do is puke all over Shondra's mother. That would be disgusting as well as embarrassing. "Please…Mrs. Kreviak…I have to go. My father needs me at the hospital."

            "Okay, dear, please visit soon. And come as often as you like. We love your company."

            Maria's heart sinks when she sees the tears glisten in Mrs. Kreviak's blue eyes. She does not deserve to be treated like this. It's not her fault that her daughter is such a bitch. Maria wants to take back what she has just said and tell her the truth, everything from beginning to end. But then, Anya crosses her mind. Mrs. Kreviak would be angry at her daughter, which would serve Shondra right, but Shondra would demand to know the tattle tale's identity and her mother would have no choice but to tell her. Shondra would then pass on the information to Carly, Matt, Kirsten and to everyone else she's friends with. God knows what they would do to her and Anya at that point.

            "Thanks…but…I have to go," she says, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor below.

****

            Inside the car, Anya sobs relentlessly but quietly. Her earlier attempts to regain control of her emotions have failed, so she just let herself go. Ten minutes later, the tears continue to flow. She is much too wrapped up in her pain to care about what Maria is doing inside of Shondra's house. This past week has been nothing short of a disaster: Anya has hit rock bottom and now she must crawl back out of the deep well, but she doesn’t know how and there is no one who she can turn to for support. She wishes she could talk her father, tell him how horrible her life is, but he would just turn her away. She can't talk to Patrick because she betrayed him, breached the bridge of trust that had been built between them. Anya would give anything to call him and to hear his comforting words, but she can’t bring herself to do it.
It's over, Anya, and it will never ever be the same again. You blew it big time. You are despicable, disgraceful; a disappointment to everyone and to yourself. You deserve to be lonely and miserable after what you did.
The tears gush from her eyes. At this point, no amount of tissue can wipe them dry. Just as she holds the last tissue over her nose, she hears the click of the back door being opened. A rush of cold air fills the car interior, sending deep chills throughout her body. Anya hears Maria's soft voice, asking if she is alright.

            Anya gulps. "Yes."

            "Oh my God, Anya. You look terrible," Maria says once she is seated beside Anya.

            Reluctantly, Anya flips down the overhead mirror and studies her reflection. Maria is right; her entire face is blotchy and covered in mascara. She can feel Maria's hand on her left shoulder.

            "Let's forget this entire week happened, okay? Anya, I don't mean to sound harsh, but you have to move forward. You have no choice."

            "How," she says, her eyes sinking to her lap.

            "Look at me."

            The forcefulness in her voice, surprisingly, does not make Anya cringe. She turns her head slowly until her eyes meet Maria's face.

            Maria's face holds a solemn look, yet the tightness around the edges of her mouth indicates determination. "You're not to blame for anything that happened this week. I'm the one who's at fault. If I had never persuaded Carly to befriend you, none of this would have happened, and I should have never forced you into this. What I did was completely low and I'm really, really sorry. But," she breathes out a heavy sigh. "shit happens. Life's a bitch and you have to be strong if you want to survive. You have to pick up the pieces and move forward."

            Anya bites down hard on her lower lip. Fresh tears sting her eyes. "But, Maria, I can't do it."

            "Yes you can," Maria says in a much softer tone of voice.

            Anya can feel Maria's hand on hers. It is warm and it makes her cold hand tingle all over.

            "You're with me now and I will show you how to forget the past. Now, let's find a washroom and get you cleaned up. Starting tonight, we are going to chill in more sophisticated places and with more sophisticated people."

            Anya gives her a blank look. "What do you mean?"

            Maria's face brightens into a smile. "You'll see what I mean."

            It is quarter past ten at night and Patrick sits on the sofa, alone in the basement. He has spent the past two hours trying to re-write his song, 'The Beauty with the Big Brown Eyes', but the right words and rhymes have not come to him. His mind remains numb from the pain of this past week.

            The day his grandmother died -- shortly before they moved to Canada -- had been heart wrenching for him and for his entire family. Patrick had loved her very much, she was his favorite grandmother, but her passing does not compare to how he is feeling now.

            Anya has made his life so complete. He's been wanting to take his relationship with her to the next level for some time now. He has planned to make her his girl the night of their graduation ceremony. But Anya tore him to pieces. She took their relationship and threw it out the window. It pains him beyond words every time he sees her at school and every time he thinks about her.

            As he reads the song for the tenth time, his eyes fill up with tears.
Anya won't have to hear this song anymore. She abandoned you for new friends, so she doesn't deserve your friendship.
Patrick grabs the piece of paper, tears it until all that remains is tiny shreds. He then throws it into the small wastepaper bucket beside the sofa. Anya deserves everything that comes to her and frankly, he hopes that she suffers the consequences of the mistake she made.

            "Where are we, Maria?" Anya says, peering apprehensively at the building ahead of them. She knows where they are when she sees the word 'Solas' flash a florescent pink on the side of the building next to the entrance doors. Three women and two men huddle close together outside of the club's entrance. Anya assumes that all three women are wearing skimpy outfits underneath their winter coats. One of them turns her blond head and stares at the two teens as they drive by. Thank goodness it's too dark outside for her to notice them.

            "Man, there's no decent place to park in this dang town," Maria says.           

            "There is one over there," Anya says, pointing her finger at an empty parking spot less than twenty feet ahead.

            "Great, thanks."          

            Anya's heart starts to beat faster. She can hear the obnoxious music within the walls of Solas Night Club. A couple of rogue looking men walk past them down the empty sidewalk, one of them jeering and cursing about someone or something. Anya cannot hear his conversation past his overuse of violent words.

            She turns to face Maria. She can see that Maria is preoccupied, rummaging through her purse in search of spare change, her lighter and a new box of cigarettes.

            "Maria, I really don't think this is a good idea."

            Maria snaps her head up. "Anya, quit worrying. Everything will be fine. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

            Anya crumples her brow. "What do you mean?"

            "I've been to numerous clubs with friends in Spain. They're a lot of fun."

            "But Maria, this is Canada, not Spain. The age limit to get into night clubs here is nineteen."

            Maria shrugs her shoulders. "So, the age limit to drink in Spain is eighteen. We just got fake IDs to get in. That's one good thing about makeup and sexy clothes. No bouncer or bartender ever asked us to prove our identity."

            "But we don't have fake IDs. What if we get caught?"

            The look on Maria's face hardens. "We just play it safe. Don't buy too many drinks and don't get too drunk. Just act like you're a regular attendee."

            Anya tugs at her hair. "How are we gonna get inside?"

            "Through the back of the building. I mean, there must be a back door. Just follow me."

            The two teens slip out of the car, Maria being sure to lock it before they cross the street. They sneak down the empty sidewalk until they come to the four-way stop across from Solas. At the four-way stop, they veer to the right, trying to keep themselves out of people's eyesight. About a third way down the street, they enter a back alley behind the night club.

            "Some place to have a night club. There’s no decent parking lot," Maria says under her breath.

            "It's just as well. We'd be noticed if there was one."

            "Now, where’s the door?"

            The two of them walk up and down the entire length of the building, searching for a door. "There doesn't appear to be any door," Anya says.

            "No. There has to be one."

            Suddenly, a door bursts open and two people -- a man and a woman -- walk out. Their loud voices fill the brisk air.

            Anya and Maria race over to the wall, away from the door. They huddle behind the trash bin, out of sight from the two adults. Anya remains still. She pulls the coat tight against her chest in efforts to keep the cold out. She breathes in and out slowly, but that does not decrease her anxiety.

            "Hey Jim, Amanda, I need a smoke and a walk. Do you guys wanna come with me," a second man says. His voice is slightly husky and youthful. Anya guesses that he is African Canadian and in his early twenties.