So M’s painting her toenails in a color called Tangerine Dream with her right hand and drinking a glass of her parents’ champagne with the other. While I’m rifling through her closet looking for something cool to wear.
I’m only halfway through one of the dress racks when I go, “Are you really gonna take all this stuff to college with you? I mean, you’re gonna fill up the entire dorm room just with your clothes.”
M looks at her overflowing closet and shrugs. “After my mom’s done pilfering, you can have whatever I don’t take.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah, why not?”
I pull out a suede halter-top I’ve coveted all year, and slip it over my head. Then I pull on some suede pants I found folded on a shelf. I walk over to the full-length mirror and gaze at my reflection. Then I turn to M and go, “Pocahontas?”
She looks at me and laughs. “Totally.”
So I take it all off and start over.
Then M goes, “Did I tell you that my dad cornered me about the ‘extravagant,’ as he puts it, balance on the credit card?”
“Oh my god, no. What happened?” I grab a black silk skirt off a hanger.
“Nothing happened. I just explained that if he wanted to really experience an ‘extravagant balance’ he could just wait and see what the divorce was gonna cost him when I tell my mom about his mistress.”
“No way!”
“Way.”
“But I thought your mom already knows and isn’t doing anything about it.”
“Yeah, she knows. But he doesn’t know that I know that she knows. He was so floored by me knowing that he just sat there all red in the face and then he started yelling at me about some totally unrelated situation. So I stood up and told him that as much as I enjoyed our little chat, I had other places to be.”
“What’d he do?”
“Nothing. Bastard.” She rolls her eyes. “Hey, have you talked to your dad since that big argument?”
“No.” I just look at her and shrug.
M nods and goes, “God, I hope when the time comes we can pick ‘em a little better than our moms did.” Then she pours more champagne into her glass, takes a sip and goes, “What are you gonna do?”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “After graduation? I have no idea. Why? What are you gonna do?” I pull a lacy, silk camisole over my head and search her shoe racks for something I can walk in.
“Apparently I’m going Greek Island hopping and then on to Princeton.”
I reach down for a pair of kitten-heeled sandals and sit on the edge of the bed while I slide them onto my feet. “What do you mean ‘apparently’?”
M takes a sip of her champagne and goes, “I don’t know. Sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like it’s my decision. Sometimes, I just wish I could cut my hair short, dye it blue, and say ‘fuck you’ to my mom and dad. You know, in a note, on the fridge. It’s not like they’re ever around so I could say it to their face.” She looks at me and laughs.
“That’s just nerves,” I tell her and reach for one of her little denim jackets.
“What if it’s not?” she says, and she really looks panicked.
“You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”
She goes over to the mirror and runs her fingers through her long blond hair, and gazes at her perfect reflection. “Yeah, you’re right.” And then she turns and looks at me and goes, “Do you realize you haven’t mentioned Richard Branson lately?”
I look at her and roll my eyes. “Yeah, I guess I’m getting a life, huh?”
I’m searching in my bag for some lip gloss when she goes, “Heads up!” Then she tosses a robin’s-egg-blue box at me.
“What the—?” I catch it before it hits the floor and stare at it in my hand.
“Just open it,” she says.
So I pull off the white ribbon, and remove the top, and inside I find this really cool, silver, Tiffany charm bracelet just like the one she wears that I’ve always admired. She even had my initials engraved on it. I hold it up in front of me and ask, “What’s this for? I mean, it’s not my birthday or anything.”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s for graduation.” She shrugs.
“But I don’t have anything for you!” I say.
“Okay, then it’s not for graduation. Listen, I guess it’s just sort of a thank-you present for being such a good friend.” She takes a sip of her champagne and looks at me. “I mean it, even after what I did to you, you were still there for me. I totally crashed your date with Guy but you still helped me that night and I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. I was in worse shape than you realized.”
I hold the bracelet in my hand and I feel weird about accepting it because sometimes M’s gifts turn into bribes. But then I glance at her and she looks so happy and excited and it makes me feel guilty for thinking that. I mean, we’ve been friends forever and if she says it’s a thank-you gift, then it’s a thank-you gift. And I shouldn’t be so suspicious. And it’s not like I don’t deserve it. So I put it on, and I admire the way it hangs on my wrist, next to my watch.
So we end up at a club. When we pull into the valet I look right at her and say, “I can’t believe you!”
“What?” she asks innocently.
“We agreed. No clubs, remember?”
She hands the valet her keys and says, “Relax, it’s not a club. It’s a bar.”
“It has valet parking, a big line, and a cover charge, M. It’s a club.”
“Sorry, Alex, you’re wrong. It’s called, Bar None. See,” she says, pointing to the neon sign over the door. “It’s a bar.”
And I stand there in front of the door and then I look down at the shiny, silver bracelet on my wrist, and I know that, once again, I’ve been bribed.
Chapter 38
She just happens to know the bouncer from her Trevor days so we don’t have to stand in line and we go right upstairs to the VIP room.
I’m not really into the VIP scene like M is. It just seems so pretentious to me. I mean, it’s really not so different from the downstairs room except that everyone up here is busy patting themselves on the back for being hip enough to be up here. I really can’t stand that self-congratulatory stuff.
So we’re sitting in this tiny booth and M is flirting big time with some guy in the corner who just sent over two glasses of champagne from the big bottle that’s sitting on his table. And I’m just looking around the room at all these fakers and posers who are acting like this is so important. At the beginning of the year I would have been thinking I was so cool to be sitting here too, but now I just feel tired.
I look over at M and watch her reach into her purse and pull out a joint and a silver lighter.
I just sit there looking at her, thinking there’s no way she’s gonna smoke that here, in a public place, where it’s against the law to even smoke cigarettes.
When she starts to light it up, I get all panicky and go, “M, you’re not gonna smoke that are you?”
She gives me this annoyed look and says, “Would you just chill out? I just want to relax a little. You know, maybe you need to relax a little too. It’s like, you’re so judgmental and you’ve never even tried it.”
I look around the club to see if anyone is watching. A few people are looking at us, but no one seems to care. I watch M inhale and hold it, then go into a major coughing fit as she exhales. And her face is all red, and she certainly doesn’t look any more relaxed to me, but what do I know? I mean, maybe she’s right. I am kind of judgmental about doing drugs, especially for someone who’s never tried any. So I look at her, and go, “Do you think I should try it?”
She looks at me all surprised and says, “Yeah, have at it.”
So I take the tiny smoldering blunt from between her fingers and hold it up to my mouth. And I can’t believe I’m gonna do this because I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t do things like this. I know it sounds lame, and it’s just pot, which is natural, and the Indians did it
and stuff, and it’s really no big deal, but a while back I made this list of things I wouldn’t do and dorky as it seems smoking pot was number three.
But maybe I outgrew that stupid list. Because to be honest I wrote it back in like, ninth grade when I was all into getting straight A’s, and being the class president, and all those other activities that I’ve since abandoned. I mean, I’m just not any of those things anymore, so maybe this is what I am now, a person that smokes pot in the VIP room of a trendy new club.
So I hold it up to my mouth and just as I’m about to inhale I look at M and she’s got this huge smile on her face, and she’s all excited, and it really bugs me that my doing something that goes against my personal value system would bring her so much joy. So I take the joint and drop it into my champagne glass and watch it float briefly with the bubbles and then submerge.”
“What the fuck, Alex?” she yells.
“I changed my mind,” I say.
“Yeah? Well you didn’t have to drown it! Shit! You wrecked the champagne and the pot!” She rolls her eyes and looks at the ceiling. “You’re so fucking holy. God, I was just trying to relax a little. Everything is such a big fucking deal with you.”
She’s glaring at me and I just can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand this stupid club, and I can’t stand her. But I don’t say anything, I just give her a nasty look, grab my purse, and leave.
I go into the bathroom.
There’s a crowd of girls at the mirror, putting on lipstick and saying mean things about some girls they know that aren’t in the restroom. So I push into an empty stall, grab my cell phone, and check my messages. There are two. The first one is from Connor. He’s talking the usual telephone talk, you know “How are you? Blah blah blah.” Then he asks me if I’ve decided about London, because he’s reserved a first-class ticket for me on Virgin! I stop and play the message again so I can hear him tell me that a second time, then I push two to save. Then I listen to my next message. It’s my dad. So right as I have my index finger poised over three to erase, he tells me he got married last weekend. I feel sick. I don’t hit three. I press one to listen to it again and it’s for real. It’s weird how he doesn’t mention who he married. But I have to assume it was Cheri.
Oh my god. Am I supposed to be happy for him? Because I feel totally nauseous. It’s the same sick feeling I had that day when I vomited in the bathroom at school. I lean against the door and try to piece it all together.
Let’s see, Connor gave me a first-class invitation to London, and my dad gave me a stepmom that’s younger than my sister, and named after a fruit. I wrap my arms tightly around myself and try to keep from crying. And I don’t even know why I’m so upset. Because the truth is, I was replaced long ago. And I’ve wasted a lot of time trying to pretend otherwise.
I make my way back to the table, hoping I can convince M to go home, but she’s no longer sitting there because she is now at the corner table sitting on top of that Big Muscular Blond Guy with the free champagne.
When she sees me she waves and shouts, “Hey Alex, come over and hang out with us.”
So I go and sit with M and her new friends because I don’t really know what else to do. I just sit there watching her down like, her fifth drink and at one point when her friend gets up to go somewhere she leans over and says, “Jeez, is he like hot, or what?”
I just look at her and shrug.
And she goes, “What’s wrong with you?”
But she doesn’t say it like she’s concerned. She says it like she’s annoyed. So I don’t tell her about my dad’s message, and the decision I have to make about Connor. Instead I just shrug and go, “You wanna go soon?”
Then she rolls her eyes and says, “Would you please just relax. This is our last big night out! Why are you trying to wreck it? We’ll probably never get to do this again, since I’m leaving for college and stuff!”
And right when I’m about to tell her that I don’t consider this quality time, her friend comes back and she totally ignores me again.
Eventually we all end up at someone’s house and I’m sitting on the couch next to some guy. I have no idea where M is, and I don’t even know this guy’s name. But he’s totally getting on my nerves, because it’s all too obvious that he’s just looking to get laid. And you know what? I’m just not into it. I’m not saying I’ll never have sex again, or that I have to fall in love first. I’m just saying that I want to belong to me for awhile, and not share myself with anyone else.
So I get up from the couch and say, “Excuse me.”
And what’s-his-name goes, “Where are you going?”
So I stand in front of him and say, “Listen, no offense, I just want to be alone right now.”
He gives me an odd look and shrugs. He’ll get over it.
I wander around the house looking for M, because I’m not having fun and I’m determined to go, but I can’t find her anywhere. So I go outside in the backyard and I see her in the Jacuzzi with her new friend, and they look just like a commercial for some sleazy, new, Reality TV show.
They’re both naked and totally making out, but I walk up to them anyway because it’s nothing I haven’t seen before and I’m serious about going home. I clear my throat so they’ll know I’m standing there and M breaks away and sees me and goes, “Hey, what’s going on?” and she gives me that same annoyed look that she’s given me a lot tonight.
But the truth is, I don’t care about looks like that from her anymore, so I just say, “I want to go home.”
“What? Now? Uh, I’m a little busy here.” And she nods her head toward her friend who is rolling his eyes at me.
“I’m serious,” I say. “I want to go.”
Then she looks right at me and says, “Well, I’m not leaving, so I don’t know what to tell you.”
I’m standing in front of her and I’m on the verge of tears. But I also know that this is the very last time that she gets to treat me like this.
I shake my head and say, “Okay then, I’ll see you later.” And I turn to walk away.
“Yeah, right,” she says. “Like where are you going?”
I stop and turn to look at her. I look at her until she starts to get uncomfortable. And then I say, “I don’t know where I’m going M, but I’m going somewhere.”
Chapter 39
The sun is making its slow ascent, lighting up the sky, but not yet burning off the morning chill, so I wrap my arms tightly around my waist and start walking. And I’m hoping I don’t get mugged, or kidnapped, or raped because I’m all alone, and I have no idea where I am, where I’m going, or even how I’ll get there. I guess I’m starting to feel a little panicked. I mean, now that I’ve made my point with M by storming out like that, part of me wants to just duck back in, wait it out, and get a ride home in her comfortable, warm, safe BMW.
The parked cars lining the street are coated in a thick, silvery layer of morning dew, and other than the faint bleeping of a distant car alarm the neighborhood is quiet. I turn the corner on to what seems like a busier, less residential street and I immediately regret it when I see these two guys walking right toward me. They’re wearing baggy jeans and similar sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up over their heads, but I can’t tell if that’s because it’s cold out, or if it’s so I won’t be able to identify them when they’re done torturing me.
I glance longingly at the other side of the street and wonder if I should cross before they reach me, but I hesitate too long and now they’re coming right at me. So I just look straight ahead and start walking faster and right as they pass me they nod and say, “Hey,” and I exhale the breath I’d been holding without realizing it, and I wonder if I’m crazy to be wandering around, by myself, somewhere in LA, when it’s still kind of dark out.
I cross the street and walk another block, passing storefronts that will remain locked for at least another three hours, and then I turn another corner for no apparent reason and suddenly I know exactly where I am.
So I
head over to this little coffee place that’s just opening for business and I get in line behind two of those Pacific Blue cops. They turn around and really look me over, but there’s no law against getting a latte after a long night, so I just totally ignore them. I mean, it’s hard to take a cop in bicycle shorts seriously.
I’m just leaning against the wall, waiting for my order when these two women walk in. They’re speaking Spanish, and I watch them point at the donuts in the glass case, and listen to the soft sounds of their language. And it’s so nice and musical that I wish I could understand and be a part of it. Then one of them starts laughing at something the other one said, and you can hear that high tinny sound bounce off the ugly tiled walls, and the counter covered in fingerprints, and even the old man behind the register looks up and smiles. I mean, it’s really a beautiful thing to hear at six in the morning when you’ve been up all night, and you’ve lost your best friend.
I grab my large latte and an oversize glazed donut and carry it out to my usual spot on Venice Beach. I’ve never been here in the morning like this and it’s really nice, serene and peaceful, which are not words you would normally use to describe this place.
Most of the homeless and junkies are waking up or going to sleep, and some of the vendors are slowly starting to arrive. And as I tear a piece off my donut, I think about second chances and how I’ve been giving them to all the wrong people. And how maybe Blake is right, maybe I’m the one that deserves one.