“Okay. Let’s go over what we have.”
I rooted through our bags for a moment. “Okay. We have a pair of red socks with Santa’s face on them, adorned with jingling bells. We have a box of condoms in various flavors, from banana to chocolate. We have a wine glass with a stem that lights up in four – that’s right, ladies and gentlemen, four -- different neon colors. We have an oak leaf, a dandelion chain, a DVD copy of Tom Hanks’s classic performance in Philadelphia. We have a movie poster for a horrible Tyler Perry comedy that is unfortunately showing at the Mason Cineplex as we speak, not that anyone would know because we stole the poster. We have two rusty nails, a 1977 penny, and the cap from a Heineken. I’d say we’re doing pretty well.”
“I’d say we’re screwed. We have all the easy stuff now.” She sighed, plopping down on a park bench. “Seriously, Kennedy, I have no idea where to get most of this stuff.”
“Isn’t that the point? That you have to look for it? That it’s not readily available? Seriously. Otherwise everyone would win.”
She sighed. “This isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.” She looked so damn disappointed, just then. Tired.
I sat down next to her and looked down at my watch. “Hey. We’ve still go tomorrow. And we’ve got tons of stuff. Seriously. We stand a good chance. Let’s just... I promised Nana I’d make dinner. Let’s go to the grocery store or something and then I’ll take you home.”
She smiled over at me, shaking her head. “I’m the one with the car, remember?”
“Right.” I put an arm around her, and she rested her head on my shoulder. Complacent, for once.
“So do I get to come over for this dinner you’re cooking?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Do you want to come over?”
She reached up and grabbed my hand, playing with my fingers. “I want to spend time with you.”
I grabbed her other hand from her lap, lacing my fingers through it. “Well, I am a hot hunk of manflesh.”
She giggled. “You’re stupid. It’s endearing. Like a dog chasing its tail.”
“You’re the one who kissed me.”
She laughed into my neck. “Yeah, well. I think we’d have good sex.”
“Amazing sex.”
“The best.”
“But you don’t like me.”
She pulled away and studied me for a moment, biting her lip. “Not in so many words.”
“Then what is this?”
She shrugged, looking down at her lap. At our hands, still joined, lying on her thigh. “You make me feel like me. I like that.”
“But not me.”
She shook her head. “No. Not really. It’s... It’s complicated, Kennedy.”
“Uh-huh.” I pulled my hand away, nodding slowly. “So you want to have sex. But no relationship.”
“I want to have sex, but I don’t want to fall in love with you.”
I met her eyes. “I never said you had to fall in love with me.”
“But you want me to.”
“How do you figure?”
“You’re that kind of boy,” she said, smiling faintly. “You want a girl to really love you. To daydream about you proposing. To imagine what your kids would look like. We’re in high school. I don’t want to speculate about something that’s never going to happen. I just want...”
“Sex,” I finished. “Right.”
“Friends with benefits. It happens. It could be really great.”
I shrugged. “I just got broken up with by the girl I’d been with for two years. I think my head is just in long term relationship mode. I need to flip the switch.”
“Why’d you break up?” she asked, her voice a light sing-song. She rested her hand on my knee.
I stared ahead for a moment, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I scared her.”
“Haunted house style?” Poppy raised her eyebrows skeptically.
“Beating the crap out of some guy in his own home for no apparent reason style.”
Her smile fell. “Wow. So that’s why you’re here.”
“Not really.”
She watched me expectantly for a moment, then sighed. “You, my friend, are a riddle wrapped up in a mystery inside an enigma.”
“And you, my friend, are not Winston Churchill.”
She shrugged. “Let’s go grocery shopping, smartass. Your grandmother could use some good old-fashioned charming from the girl next door.”
“You’re hardly the girl next door.”
She laughed, standing. “I’m a lot of things. You don’t know the half of it.”
And that was true. It was all true.
Saturday, December 13th, 6:12 PM
“You look pretty.”
She twirls around, grinning at me. “It’s my Christmas dress! It’s green and really soft.”
I smile in spite of myself. “Yeah, well. We should bake cookies next weekend. Huh, Mom?”
My mother looks over from the closet by the door, where she’s hanging up their coats. “I don’t think we have any dough.”
“She doesn’t think we have any dough, Helen. Do we have any dough?”
Helen giggles. “I don’t know.”
“Of course we have dough. Oh ye of little faith. We have sugar and flour and vanilla extract and eggs. It doesn’t come from a Pillsbury roll, but it is dough.”
“We don’t have flour, actually,” my mother notes over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes. “Why don’t we have flour?”
“Because we use the dough from the roll.”
“We always used to have flour.”
She shuts the closet door, blinking at me. “Well, you used to bake.”
“I still bake. I still cook. I still surf in the Internet and wear pajamas. Did you really think I was going to change that much?”
“That was sort of the idea,” Virginia notes, walking in off the porch. “Jesus, it’s cold out there. Are you guys talking about baking? We’re doing Christmas cookies tomorrow, right?”
“There’s no flour,” I tell her.
Helen is standing in the middle of the floor in her Christmas dress, sucking her thumb. She stopped doing it when she was five. Another thing she started doing again while I was gone.
Virginia looks at my mother. “Why isn’t there any flour?”
“Because we don’t use flour,” Mom tells her, sighing impatiently. “And when you don’t use flour, it gets wormy. And I don’t want mealworms infesting my kitchen.”
“Of course we use flour,” Virginia protests, rolling her eyes. “Everyone uses flour.”
“We don’t.”
“Pookie does!”
Mom sighs again, gritting her teeth. “Sweetie, Pookie’s been gone for months. Or haven’t you noticed?”
“I’m just saying. We always bake cookies. I thought maybe we could actually start acting normal again but no, I guess we’ll just keep acting insane.”
“No one is acting insane,” I sigh, rolling my eyes.
Virginia glares at me. “You seemed pretty insane in the mall today.”
“And you seem pretty bitchy right now.”
“Ulysses!” my mother barks. “Stop it.”
“Oh yeah, coddle her, Mom, that helps.”
“I’m not coddling anyone.”
Virginia laughs, her expression cloudy. “Uh-huh. You don’t coddle the twins at all. God, if I beat the shit out of somebody you’d pay them to arrest me!”
“Watch your language!”
“He called me a bitch and you didn’t tell him to watch his language! What, were you afraid he would hit you?”
“That’s ridiculous, Virginia.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously, Virginia, way to be in third grade.”
“Ulysses.”
“What, Mom? I’m not doing anything!”
“You’re antagonizing her!”
“I’m not antagonizing anyone!”
Virginia laughs again. “Uh-huh. God knows you’ve been a pleasure since you got back.”
“Like you’ve ever been a pleasure.”
“Rob thinks so.”
My mother stares at her. “Virginia Marie!”
“Oh, God, Mom, you let me spend the night at my boyfriend’s house all the time. What the hell do you think we’re doing?”
“Well now that there’s no doubt, I know you’re never going back!”
“When Pookie left, you found condoms in his room!”
I roll my eyes. “Why do you always have to bring me into everything? Are you that jealous of me?”
“I’m not jealous of you!”
And that’s when Helen starts to scream. An ear-splitting, senseless, wailing scream. We all look down at her, shocked to see her standing there. All dressed up. Her eyes closed, her fists clenched. Screaming.
“Helen,” Virginia says gently, stepping toward her.
Helen backs away. “Stop it.”
“Okay,” Virginia agrees, reaching out a hand. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re done. We’re done.”
Helen’s lip quivers. “Promise?”
I nod. “Promise.”
Virginia crouches down and takes both of Helen’s hands in her own. “I promise too. Okay? And tomorrow, we’ll all bake cookies together. Double promise. It’ll be Christmas like always.”
Helen sniffles. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you want to change your clothes?”
Helen nods. Virginia stands up and leads her up the stairs, talking to her softly.
I look over at my mother once they’re gone. She looks tired. Unbelievably tired.
“I’ll go get the flour,” she says finally, and she’s out the door before I can say a word.
Sunday, August 17th, 5:15 PM
“What do you want me to do with this again?”
I looked over at her. “Chop it up? Seriously, you don’t have to help.”
“I want to.” She glared at me, only half kidding. “Tobias never lets me touch anything.”
“Huh.”
She shrugged, squinting down at the zucchini. “Wait, you want the slices in quarters? Or halves?”
“Thirds.” I grinned at her.
She threw a piece at me, frowning. “Now you’re just making fun of me!”
“I’m not. I promise. Scout’s honor.”
She went back to chopping, carefully quartering each slice. I wanted to tell her that it really didn’t matter what size they were, but I was afraid to offend her when she was holding a knife.
“Okay,” she said five minutes later, as I finished cutting up the last bell pepper. “I’m done.” She looked over at me with a self-satisfied smile.
“Alright. Put it in the pan.”
She obliged, then watched as I shoveled in handfuls of mushrooms, peppers, squash, and broccoli. “How did you get all that chopped up so fast?”
“I’m a prodigy. Turn on the heat.”
“How high?”
“Medium.”
She peered carefully at the knobs on the stove. “There is no medium.”
“What is there?”
“A ten, a six, a three, and an off.”
“You can put it in between those marks, you know.”
She frowned over at me. “They’re all numbers.”
“So ten is the hottest?”
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”
She laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She twisted the knob to medium and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. Staring at me intently.
“What?”
“We should do it.”
“Do what?” I poured on some more soy sauce, stirring the vegetables lightly.
She raised her eyebrows. “We have a box.”
“So we can play fort?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so damn dense. It. We should do it.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened. I turned my focus to the stove, suddenly fascinated by the swirling green and yellow and red. “Huh.”
“We talked about it this afternoon. I figured you’d get the point. That I wanted to.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But obviously, you didn’t, and now you’re going to make me feel as awkward as you possibly can for asking.”
I switch on the fan, drawing the steam away from my face. “Huh.”
“Is that all you’re going to say?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So you don’t want to do it?”
“Uhhh...” This was not how it had gone with Cassie. I was not sure it had ever gone this way with any couple, however informal, in the history of sex.
“Because if you keep on answering me with vagueness, I can just go home. I mean, whatever you want. But you at least should care.”
“This is just... Weird.”
“Weird,” she repeated. “It’s weird.”
“It’s just... It’s really forward.”
She studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly. “So you want me to beat around the bush. You want me to talk to you like you’re a child. It’s sex, Kennedy. People do it. You’re living proof that people do it. Get over it.”
“Romantic,” I managed, staring down at the stove.
“Look, I get it. I do. I get what you’re saying. But seriously. I think we should do it. I want you to think we should, too. But I mean, you just broke up with your girlfriend, or she broke up with you, or whatever, and you’re an awkward teenage boy, and this is your grandmother’s house and I get it. If you don’t. Think we should. Yeah.” She trailed off awkwardly, sucking her upper lip into her mouth.
I stirred the vegetables for a minute, biting my lip. “No, we should. I need to get laid. Not in my grandmother’s house, though. And not with banana flavored condoms.”
“Yeah, like I don’t have two boxes of regular ones in my sock drawer. You underestimate my sex life, Kennedy. And we can do it at my place. Tobias is out with some floozy.”
“You don’t like her?”
Poppy laughed. “I don’t even know her. He has at least two dates a week, all different women. You’d think he’d have gone through the whole pool by now, but he keeps dragging them up from some street corner or something. I don’t know. He used to bring them back to the house, but when I got chlamydia sophomore year, he decided he was being a bad influence and if he wanted an abstinent daughter, he couldn’t keep bringing women by the dozen to spend the night. But it happens.”
“What?”
“What what?”
“You have chlamydia?”
“I had it. Everyone did, pretty much. Lia, Todd, Lindsay, Jordan, Josh, Brianna of course, Heather the slutty freshman, Alex, and Max. Max was the one who gave it to me. He got it from Heather. She got it from some guy in Mason and gave it to like, four guys. Who infected their four girlfriends, plus me. And that’s how we learned that STIs spread really, really fast in small high schools.”
I blinked at her. “You say this like it’s very, very normal.”
“Well, it was a little more traumatic at the time. Namely when my father slept with some nurse from Mason who came back to town with him and found out he had a sixteen year old daughter, at which point she asked him if the chlamydia outbreak around here scared him. I was being treated already, but the pills were on my dresser. He wasn’t all that happy.”
“Well, you had chlamydia.”
“He’s a hypocrite.”
“Is that why you don’t talk to him?”
She laughed. “You really think I don’t speak to my father because he’s a manwhore? You really think I’m that petty? He can fuck who he wants.”
“Right.”
“It doesn’t help, though. Really.” She examined her nails, avoiding my eyes. “You’d think if your only family refused to speak to you, you’d at least try to redeem yourself. Not that he ever could.”
“But he could try.”
“Right.” She sighed, shrugging. “Oh well. It happens.”
“It shouldn’t. You’re family. Family’s important.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Obviously your family disagrees.”
“They don’t hate me, Poppy.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I love them too much, sometimes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Look at you, trying to be all cryptic and really just sounding incestuous.”
“I just want them to be happy. Always.”
“And they’re not?”
I stared intently down at the pan, stirring it idly, trying to quell the images flashing through my mind. Blood. Josephine, sobbing. Sitting on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Virginia on the couch, head cradled in her hands. My mother pacing. What did you do, Pookie? Oh my God, what did you do?
“Not really. Not anymore.”
Saturday, December 13th, 9:40 PM
“I’m sorry.”
She looks up from her desk with a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Pookie?”
“A time machine.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t we all.”
I lean against the doorframe, chewing on the inside of my lower lip. “You’re allowed to hate me. Sometimes I do.”
“I’d really love to take you up on that offer, sometimes.”
I sigh. “Look, I know. I know I’ve been awful since I got back. And it’s totally unfair that you all have to deal with the aftermath of everything. It’s... This afternoon sucked, Josephine. I felt horrible. I... I’m a monumental fuck up. And I’m sorry. I’m really damn sorry.”
She closes her eyes for a moment, then sighs, staring down at her desk. “I was wrong, too. I don’t know. I’m just ready for this year to be over.”
“I know.” I slide down the wall and heave a sigh. “For what it’s worth, if I’d had the year you did, I’d probably be a crazy shut-in. Who ate marshmallow fluff out of the container. And had lots of dogs.”
“Dogs with ridiculous names. Like Eunice. And Thor.”
“Thaddeus.”
“Bernice.”
“Yvonne.”
She rolls her eyes. “Can you imagine? That’s some serious animal cruelty.”
“Yvonne the German Shepherd. I love it.”
“You’re a sadist.”
“You’re related to me.”
She shakes her head. “No. I was adopted. Or you were. Probably me. Then I wouldn’t have to claim Virginia, either.”
I roll my eyes. “Wishful thinking.”
“No kidding.” She cracks her knuckles and grimaces down at her desk. “God, calculus can blow me.”
“When’s your exam?”
“Wednesday. Same day as econ. Which can also blow me.”
“Sucks. You want help?”
She groans. “I want someone to take it for me. But help would be good.”
“What are you doing?”
She sticks out her tongue. “Logarithmic differentiation. We just learned it two weeks ago. I got a D on the test, and that was with a ten point curve. I think I’m going to die.”
I stand up and walk over to her, peering down at the textbook. “You can’t take a derivative until you revise it. You’re skipping ahead. You don’t need a common denominator until later.”
Josephine stares at me blankly. “Did you not just hear me say that I got a D on the last test? I have no idea how to do this. The word ‘derivative’ means very little to me.”
“Come on. Write the problem out again, just what they gave you, and we’ll start over.”
“Fine.”
She peers down at her book, then carefully begins copying the problem into her notebook. “I missed you, you know. I need the math help.”
“See, I’m not so bad sometimes.”
She rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
And for a minute, we are okay again. And it’s almost like the last five months never happened. Almost.
Sunday, August 17th, 7:32 PM
“Not half bad.”
I groaned. “Gee. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry if I’m not shaking from head to toe with a neverending orgasm, Kennedy. Jesus.” She sat up, crossing her arms over her breasts. “Give it a couple hours and we’ll try it again.”
“Seriously? I have to get home by ten.”
“No. I told your grandmother we were going to the movies. She said to have you home by midnight.”
I sat up, massaging my temples. “What kind of movie lasts from seven to midnight?”
“The kind where your grandmother likes me.” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously. You need to get better at this sneaking around stuff.”
“I’m sorry if I don’t like lying to blood relatives.”
“Yeah, well. Get used to it.” She looked over at me and winked. “You’re cute when I annoy you.”
“I thought you said I was just generally cute.”
“Well, you are. And you have nice abs. Damn.” She laughed. “Seriously, though. You’re not all that bad in bed.”
“I thought you said the sex would be mind blowing.”
“The sex will be mind blowing. Once you get over this whole liking me thing.”
“I don’t like you!”
She rolled her eyes, laughing lightly. “You do, though. It’s so obvious. It doesn’t really help, either, that you’re so inexperienced.”
“I’m not inexperienced!” I yelped, starting to stand up and immediately sitting back down. It didn’t seem like a good time to expose myself.
“When you can count your previous sex partners on one finger, we usually call that inexperienced.” She wrinkled her nose, stifling a laugh. “I think it’s cute. You’re practically a virgin. I’m like Columbus or something.”
“Great. I love when girls claim me for Spain.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so nerdy.”
“I’m not nerdy. I’m an intellectual. You’re supposed to find that attractive.” I bit my lip. “Plus, I have great abs. Seriously, I should sell these things on the Internet or something.”
“Uh-huh. Because the urge to sell things on the Internet isn’t nerdy.”
I glared at her and grabbed my jeans off the floor, pulling them on. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, I don’t have to help you scavenge tomorrow. I can ask Nana to teach me to crochet or something. Make some baby booties.”
“See? You look at me naked and you think of babies. You like me.” She fished in the sheets for a minute, finally pulling out her shirt. “Two hours, lover boy. Want to make popcorn and watch a movie or something? Or would that give you fuzzy romantic feelings?”
“I don’t know, but if you don’t put a shirt on soon, we’re not going to be waiting two hours.”
She laughed. “You want a piece of this, Ulysses Kennedy?”
“I already got a piece. Like, ten minutes ago. Which is why we’re both half-naked. But no, to answer your question, I wouldn’t object to another.”
She shook her hair out and pulled it back into a sloppy ponytail at the nape of her neck and tossed her shirt on the ground. “Come on, then. Show me your moves, boy.”
“Oh, I have moves now?” I bit my finger suggestively, laughing.
She raised her eyebrows. “I’m beginning to doubt it. But you’re free to prove me wrong.”
“Hm. We’ll see.” I sat back down on the bed next to her, then grabbed her, viciously tickling her sides. She squirmed and giggled her way into my lap, throwing one leg over me, straddling my torso.
“You’re an idiot,” she said finally, gasping for breath, pinning my hands above my head. “Your moves are pathetic and juvenile.” She leaned down and kissed me, hard, chewing lightly on my lower lip.
“Yeah, well, you’re naked and on top of me. So obviously I’m doing something right.”
She rolled her eyes, grabbing the button of my jeans. “I take pity on you.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll take your pity. Donations graciously accepted.” I reached up and grabbed her, pressing her against me. She laughed as I kicked off my jeans, lightly kissing my neck.
“You’re such a dork,” she said finally, reaching over to her nightstand and grabbing a condom, smirking down at me.
“You like me.”
“No I don’t,” she scoffed, shaking her hair loose and rolling her eyes, still straddling my chest.
“You do. You totally, totally do.”
It was the last thing either of us said for awhile. But I would always remember the look on her face at that moment. The tiniest doubt flashing through her eyes.
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