Melt With You

  Love Plus One, Haircut 100

  “You mentioned you loved new wave, but your sister hogged the radio, so I thought you might like something like this.”

  “Are you kidding? I love it!” I practically jump on top of him, wrapping my arms around his neck so tight I half expect his head to snap off. “This is great!” Laurie gave me a ten-dollar gift certificate to the Warehouse, and that couldn’t buy me but one of these records. But Joel’s gift is so much deeper than the music.

  “Queen and David Bowie aren’t really new wave.” He dots his finger over the tape. “I just had a hard time finding a song that started with a U. And as for Y—”

  “I love that you included Ozzy. It’s perfect.”

  His grin widens. “There’s another part to the gift, but you’ll have to come to my house for that—if you don’t mind.”

  “Are you crazy? I love that the second part comes with an adventure attached.” I lose myself in his sapphire eyes. “I’ve been ‘Missing You.’” I bite down on my lip. “See what I did there?”

  He closes his eyes with a wistful smile on his face. “I see what you did.”

  “I might have played that and ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ on a loop for the entire last week.”

  He winces. “Sounds brutal.”

  “It was. But it balanced out when I made a dartboard out of your junior yearbook picture.” We share a laugh.

  “Should I ask if you’re kidding?”

  “Please.” I mock sock him in the stomach. “I wouldn’t desecrate my yearbook like that. I’m a nerd that way.”

  He swoops in and takes a playful bite of my ear. “I love it. And I love you. Has anyone ever told you that you sort of look like Madonna?”

  My heart stills. Joel Miller just said that I look like Madonna. Can this night get any better?

  “Thank you.” I pull the tiny cassette tape between us. “And I love that you turned this into an acrostic. I love you, Mel.” The words melt off my tongue. “This is really special to me.” Tears swell in my eyes, blurring the precious tape he made, the beauty of his thinly veiled message. “No one has ever been so nice, so thoughtful to me before.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close. “I’m glad it’s you.”

  “I’m glad it’s me, too.”

  Joel

  Last night qualifies as the single most perfect night of my life, hands down. Mel for the win. I end up hanging out in bed long after I wake up. It’s still early, the sun barely cracking over the horizon, but I’m too hopped up on what happened, on what will hopefully keep happening with Mel. I hit the shower and then pour myself a mixing bowl full of Honeycomb cereal. Mom is up, with Tiffany already at the table with her.

  “What is this? A meeting of the minds? Man—you sleep in, and you miss the good stuff.” I plunk my bowl down onto the table next to them. “Morning.”

  They both look overly groggy with matching bloodshot eyes.

  “What’s going on?”

  The last time they looked this way together was when Tiff had her baby scare. If that douchebag knocked her up again, I swear, I’m going to take a baseball bat to his legs.

  “Dad had to work last night.” Tiffany pushes out a forced smile. “We were just waiting up.”

  “Did you call him? Maybe he was in an accident.” I think I know better than to assume the worst, but the worst is always a possibility. And, at this point, I’m not sure which is technically worse: realizing my dad is stepping out on my mom or the thought of him getting killed in a car wreck. It seems debatable.

  “We’ve been paging him all night.” Mom rolls her head into her hands.

  Tracy skips into the room, already energized for the day without an ounce of sugar in her. “Morning, losers!” she chirps a little louder than necessary. The Walkman secured to her ears buzzes like a hive of bees, letting me know that the volume is turned up way too loud.

  “Sometimes he turns off his pager,” I say with so little conviction that even I can’t believe I’m covering for him. I’m not, am I?

  “He’ll be home soon.” Mom gets up and starts a fresh pot of coffee. “He always comes back to me.”

  My gut pinches hot and tight. She knows. She’s always known.

  A rustle emits from the front porch. The dog across the street, a Great Dane called Dino, launches into his usual tirade. If you so much as sneeze, that dog has a barking fit engineered to give the rest of the neighborhood a heart attack.

  Dad shows up in the kitchen and lands his briefcase onto the counter, looking dazed as hell once he sees us all.

  Tracy bops in his path, oblivious to the drama that just ensued, and I gently move her out of the way.

  Without giving it an ounce of thought, I launch over at him and knock him to the floor, throwing punches like my life depends on it. My knuckles crash so hard over his jaw, I can feel them pop beneath me over and over.

  Mom and the girls scream up a storm. Someone swats me repeatedly over the back with what feels like a wooden spoon, but I keep thrashing away. I pick him up and shake his thin frame, bashing his skull into the linoleum like it means something.

  “Enough!” he riots below me, his nose slightly bleeding. In one swift move, he lands me on my back, and my head strikes the metal edge dividing the living room from the kitchen. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  My mother plucks him off me and lands him in a chair. “Your jaw is swelling! Let me get a steak on that.” She hustles to the fridge as Tiffany helps me up.

  “Are you on drugs?” she hisses, that wild look in her eyes looks especially demonic with the red tracks she’s sporting.

  “No—I’m pissed.”

  “What’s like wrong with you?” Tracy screams so loud her voice runs threadbare. “Just because that new girl dumped you doesn’t mean you have to take it out on everyone else!” Tears come to her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” I say the words to my little sister because she’s the only one I feel like apologizing to at the moment. “And this has nothing to do with Melissa. We’re fine. We’re back together.” My heart lets out a few good thumps because that’s the one piece of news I’m glad about.

  Mom slaps the steak over Dad’s face, and he groans in lieu of a thank you.

  “If you guys don’t mind, I want to talk to Dad alone.”

  Tracy swoops to his side. “Good luck in getting me out of here.” She clutches her Walkman like she’s about to repurpose it as brass knuckles.

  “Me either.” Mom is quick to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

  Tiffany, however, seems undecided, and it makes me wonder if she knows something, too.

  “Fine.” Dad glares at me a moment with those twin eyes to mine. It’s unnerving having him upset with me, and the fact we look so much alike only makes it that much more odd. “Let’s go in the front. I’m curious to see what this is all about. Why don’t you ladies stay put?”

  I follow him to the front porch and then bypass him, making him come down to the grass with me in the event the mood strikes again to shove my fist into his jaw. Not to mention, I know for a fact my mom and sisters have their ears to the window.

  “You mind explaining that little outburst? You’re going to be damn lucky if I don’t need to have my jaw wired shut.” His eyes pop with rage.

  “You’re going to be damn lucky you still have teeth if I find out you’re cheating on Mom.”

  “What?” He bounces as he shouts the word, and Dino starts in on his barking tirade once again.

  “You heard me. You’ve been out all fucking night. It’s not the first time either. Where do you expect us to believe you’ve been? Work? On a Saturday?”

  “Yes!” he roars back. “People actually work on the weekends, Joel. I realize you find this shocking, but when I was your age, I certainly knew it well because I already had two jobs!” He throws his hands in the air. “It looks as if I’ve done a great job of spoiling my children. If I knew that moving to the Heights would turn you into a bunch of
privileged snobs, I would have kept our family in San Ramos like I wanted in the first place!”

  “When did we live in San Ramos?” Something stiffens in me. I’ve never thought I was any different than anyone else. I never bought the San Ramos versus the Heights bullshit, but somehow knowing that I once lived in San Ramos, that I almost landed on the San Ramos side of the fence in high school makes me feel like a bit of an imposter, like I’m suddenly less than, and I hate that I feel this way.

  “We moved when you were a kid—I don’t know, three, four? Your mother insisted we buy this place, and that, my friend, is what has me working Saturdays.”

  Shit. I inch back, stunned. I’m a San Ramos kid. A sense of pride swells in me. Maybe I needed my dad to knock me off a pedestal I didn’t even know I sat on. That gives a whole new meaning to “You’re no Different.” A part of me is excited as hell to tell Melissa about it.

  “So that’s where you were? Work?” My head pulsates like a heartbeat because I’m not so sure we’re through with this conversation.

  “Yes.” He plucks the steak off his face. “We’re working on something top secret involving the space program—rebuilding parts for the Shuttle, if you must know. God forbid you knock out any of my teeth to get your answer.”

  I stare him down, this mirrored version of myself. I’d like to think the best of him, first and foremost because he’s my dad, but also because it feels as if I’m watching a future version of myself.

  “I heard you last summer.” My heart thumps into my throat and almost stops the rest of the conversation from happening. “I walked in, and you were on the phone with some woman, talking about the sick things you were going to do to her.” If I could turn back time, I would never have walked into that kitchen.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” He stops short, shooting a blank look to the sky. “Oh, shit.” He turns to the house a moment. “Is that what this is about?”

  “Yes.” My anger rejuvenates itself. “That’s what this is about. Explain that, you hard-working, snobby, spoiled-brat raising, home-late-on-a-weekend hard worker. Are you going to add that to your Christmas newsletter this year, Pops? Or are you planning on taking this little tidbit to the grave?” I give his shoulder a hard push. “If you’re not telling Mom, I will before you fucking give her a disease or something.”

  “Watch your language.” Mom pops out from behind the bushes.

  Crap.

  “Tell me right this minute what’s happening, or I’m going to ground you for the rest of your natural days.”

  According to the swelling on Dad’s face, it’s pretty evident that’s already happening.

  “Now.” She cinches her robe shut tight, her eyes set in horror as she looks right at me. Too bad her anger is aimed at the wrong person.

  Dad sighs as he steps in beside her. “Joel overheard us last summer. You remember the afternoon on the phone? You picked up in the bedroom, and we talked to my father? When he hung up, we had a little conversation of our own?”

  Oh, shit. My body breaks out in a sweat. Suddenly, it feels as if that morning sun is about to catch my hair on fire. I wish it would—anything to not have to deal with the rife embarrassment of the moment.

  Mom giggles like a schoolgirl, slapping her hand over her cheek. “Joel! I’m so sorry you thought the worst! All these months, and you’ve held it bottled up inside? Come here, honey.” She pulls me into a hard embrace, her perfume singeing my nostrils.

  My chest bucks, and I hold back the urge to bawl. It feels damn good to know that my family isn’t about to blow apart. Mom was right; I held it in, bottled it all up inside with the exception of telling Mel.

  We hug it out, and I head straight inside to give Melissa a call.

  As soon as she picks up—it’s as if the weight of the world lifts off my chest. It’s nice to hear her voice.

  I can get used to this.

  I already have.

  * * *

  Glen Heights looks different to me now that I know I was originally a San Ramos kid myself. In a weird way, I feel a sense of pride over the fact. I shared the news with Mel yesterday—right after I told her my father wasn’t a cheat—that I had simply walked in on a conversation between him and my mother. I guess that, in and of itself, is pretty messed up, but it’s better than the alternative.

  It’s lunch, and Mel just took off for the restroom with Jennifer, so I head over and kick out Frankie’s knee from behind. He’s in his usual hacky sack circle—nine guys all ready to whittle away an hour with a small Rastafarian-knit sack of beads.

  “Dude.” He catches the hacky sack. “You just ruined my streak.”

  Four of the guys take off as Russ speeds over on his skateboard to join us. He pops the wheels and catches the board midair. I’d probably break my neck if I tried a stunt like that. I’ll leave anything with miniature wheels to Russ, and for good reason. I guess some could argue I’m not so great with the big wheels either.

  Russ nods up at me. “So, you and that chick together now?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Frankie shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in me. Frankie doesn’t do relationships, so most likely he is. “Dude, you’re dust. That chick owns you.”

  “Again, damn straight.” We share a laugh just as Kelly, Michelle, and Stacey swoop in.

  Here we go.

  “Just like old times.” Kelly doesn’t hesitate landing beside me, her hand slithering around my waist before I can stop her.

  Mel steps out of the darkened mouth of the building and stops short when she spots us. The hurt look on her face crushes me. Time ceases for this one brief moment, and I can feel the humiliation emanating off her like a vapor. It all happens so fast—just a fraction of a second is all Kelly needs to take down my world.

  Shit. I pluck Kelly off quick as lightning and motion Mel and her friend over.

  Melissa’s face brightens. Thank God she’s smart enough to realize Kelly is still desperate enough to try to get between us. But now that my mother’s twisted logic is out, Kelly doesn’t have a broken leg to stand on.

  “Come here.” I pull Mel in and plant a kiss on her lips. I glance over to Frankie, Russ, and everyone else in this circle, including Kelly herself. “This right here is my new girlfriend. If anyone has a problem with it, I couldn’t care less.”

  The crowd looks to Kelly as if the ball were in her court, and her eyes flash like quarters in the sun.

  “Oh, like, fer sure—this is really going to last.” She folds her arms across her chest with mocking defiance. She takes a step toward Mel, and I go to block her, but Melissa holds a hand up as if to say I’ve got this.

  “So, Mouse-akowski”—Kelly bleeds the hint of a wicked grin—“did you ever tell your new boyfriend about the fact you used to piss yourself on the bus every single day in fourth grade?” She looks to me and sneers. “Good luck with ’Lissa Piss-a-Lot.”

  A small round of titters breaks out, mostly from Kelly’s cohorts, as the crowd continues to swell around us.

  “It was once,” Mel snipes back. “And I do remember that day. The reason I pissed my pants was because I was laughing so damn hard at the fact you slipped in dog crap as you were climbing on board. By the way, your shoes smelled like shit for a month—in the event you were wondering where the nickname Shit-Stain Kelly came from. And then, about the eighth grade, it switched up to Masturbating Masterson right after a rather infamous episode with a banana at a sleepover became known. Really, Kelly? Defiling fruit? How desperate are you?”

  Kelly sucks in a sharp breath and turns to glare at Heather Knowles, and the crowd roars with a defiant laugh.

  “And let’s see…” Mel taps the side of her face with her finger as if deep in thought, but knowing Melissa, she’s had these zingers on call for a while now. Melissa always knows what to say and when. It’s one of the things I like about her best—especially when the words she chooses are I love you, and they’re aimed at me. “From Shit-Stain Kelly to M
asturbating Masterson—well, I guess that lands us in the present! Calculating Kelly who happens to be the ringleader of the Beaver Brigade!” Melissa roars those words in Kelly’s face.

  The crowd lets out a series of oohs.

  “No fucking way.” Kelly glances around at the growing sea of faces. “There’s no way anyone in this crowd has the balls to call me or my friends something so disgusting.”

  “Way,” says a female voice from the sidelines, and it’s Fatima, the captain of the cheerleading squad.

  “What?” Her eyes snag on mine. She steps forward, her mouth open wide. “Did you know about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “So much for no secrets.” Kelly gives an incredulous grunt.

  Mel clears her throat. “There’s actually one little sick secret of yours I’m tired of keeping.” She glares at Kelly. “That dead mouse you sent me a few weeks back? That was particularly sick.”

  Michelle swats Kelly across the arm. “You killed it? You promised me you wouldn’t harm a hair on its little white head! That was one of my brother’s freaking pets!”

  “Oh, she killed it,” Mel affirms. “There was blood all over that envelope she tossed it in. What did the note say again?” She taps the side of her cheek. “Oh, that’s right, Die Bitch.”

  “What?” I glare at Kelly while cinching my arms tight around Mel. “That’s some fucking psycho shit.”

  She looks from Melissa to me with her face knotted up like she might puke. “I’m looking at some fucking psycho shit right here.”

  “I’m not done.” Mel belts it out low and guttural. “The entire school is tired of your bullying. You can’t assume you started a trend and then call the rest of us posers for wearing something that is being manufactured in mass production! I will wear whatever the hell color scrunchie, banana clip, leggings, or anything else that I like!” A few of the girls applaud from deep within the crowd. Mel turns to Michelle a moment. “And I love Matt Dillon! We all do! So you can tear down that picture in your locker and suck it or sexually defile it however you wish! Your ridiculous hold on Matt is over!”