Slow Burn Part 6

He's doing a little better than she is-having been on at least a few dates since the divorce six and a half years ago. Of course the women he's gone out with-not the cream of the crop. My dad's a good-looking guy, and he can be kind of charming in his own clueless way. I know he can do better. The last woman he dated was three hundred and twenty five pounds (don't ask me how I know), and sold sweaters made out of cat fur on the internet. She made one for me-a sweater, that is. Mirella said she used the fur of her two favorite cats, Tinkles and Cooter, to knit it. It was a nice gesture, and I really did try to appreciate it-but I couldn't go near the sweater without dry-gagging.

It smelled like musty cat. She did, too, come to think of it.

So, basically, the weekends consist of Dad and I sitting around the table, eating pizza, and trying to fill the uncomfortable silences with meaningless chitchat. He's my father, and I love him, but sometimes being with him is pure torture.

The highlight of my visits is when Mich.e.l.le comes to get me. She's my dad's baby sister, but she's more like a cool older sister to me than an aunt. We go shopping, to the movies-anywhere I want to go. I'm not sure why, but I act more like a teenager with Mich.e.l.le than I do with friends my own age.

"My favorite niece!" Mich.e.l.le exclaims, letting herself into the apartment. "Are you ready to go shopping with your favorite aunt?"

"G.o.d, yes!" I lunge forward. Then, composing myself, I turn back to Dad. "Um, is that okay? I could stay-"

"No, no, it's fine!" He tries not to look relieved. "Go have fun. Do you need money? I could give you my credit card..." He fumbles in his back pocket for his wallet.

"Dad, it's okay. I have money. Thank you, though."

He nods vaguely. "You girls have fun."

Mich.e.l.le rolls her eyes at him. "Bye, Dan."

As soon as we get into her cute little convertible, Mich.e.l.le turns to me. "Okay, spill. What's up with you? And don't tell me nothing, girl. I know that look on your face."

I take a deep breath, and let it out in a slow controlled hiss. "First...let's get lunch. Anything but pizza. Chinese sounds good. I could go for some pot stickers."

"Okay." Mich.e.l.le fastens her seatbelt and flashes me a smile. "Chinese, it is."

We end up at one of her favorite restaurants in town, The Lotus Garden. It's great-unapologetically gaudy, with Buddha statues everywhere, and gold ta.s.sels hanging from the ripped paper lanterns above our heads.

I wrap my hands around the tea cup, savoring its warmth, and blurt out the now over told tale of How Johnny Cheated on Juliet and Broke her Little Virgin Heart. It's the edited version, of course. Some things I'm just not willing to share, even with my super cool aunt.

"And now I'm stuck going to Leclare on Monday," I conclude with a sigh.

"Wow."

Mich.e.l.le sits back in her seat, shaking her head. She takes the sungla.s.ses that are sitting on top of her head, and sticks it in her purse, shaking back her curly brown hair. "Do you think they were really having s.e.x in there?"

I grimace, looking down at my tea. "I don't know. He says no, and it's not like I looked closely, you know? But whether he did or didn't, he still cheated on me, so...it's over."

I choke back a sob, and try to turn it into a cough. Mich.e.l.le's not fooled. She reaches over and pats my shoulder.

"Oh, Juliet. All the things I want to tell you are the things my mom said to me when I was your age and got dumped by a guy. But I remember wanting to throw my c.o.ke in her face when she said them, so I'm not going to do that to you. Not when you have hot tea."

A chuckle escapes me. "It's lukewarm now. But-just tell me one thing, okay-no matter how lame. I think I need to hear it. Just one, though."

She smiles sympathetically. "It's not the end of the world. It's trite, but true. Shoot, I thought my boyfriend in senior year was the love of my life-now I can't even remember his name. Greg or Craig. And he was my first."

I almost feel horrified for her. "You can't remember his name?"

Mich.e.l.le throws a fortune cookie at me. "Hey, that was-s.h.i.t, almost twenty years ago! And it wasn't that great an experience, you know? Oh, well, I guess you don't know yet. But you will. Hey, I guess I do have some advice for you: don't have s.e.x in high school!" She points her chopsticks at me for emphasis.

I make a face at her. "Okay..."

"No, seriously. Aside from the obvious reasons-you're too young, teen pregnancy, stds, blah, blah, blah-wait until you're older, and the guy is older and more experienced. Your first time is going to suck, anyway." She laughs like she said something funny. "But if you're with a guy who knows what he's doing, and is patient-then it can be an...eh...okay experience. High school guys, though-zero patience and h.o.r.n.y as h.e.l.l."

"Hm," I say, not exactly agreeing.

"The worst thing?" she mumbles through a mouthful of noodles. "Their egos are more fragile. So, not only do you have to suffer through these painful techniques they learned from watching p.o.r.n-you have to pretend to like it, or they get all b.u.t.t hurt on you."

She's nodding at me wisely right now, chewing her noodles and looking kind of proud at having shared her insights with me.

"Wow," I say, my appet.i.te suddenly gone. "I don't...I don't know what to do with that. Thank you, though. For the advice. I'll keep it in mind."

"Seriously though. I'm so sorry, Juliet," Mich.e.l.le says sympathetically. "I know how you felt about him. But you're going to get through this, okay? And-I hate to say this-but maybe it's for the best."

My brow furrows in consternation. "I said tell me one thing, Mich.e.l.le. Something else I wouldn't mind hearing? 'You'll learn to love again.' But 'it's for the best?' That's like, the s.h.i.ttiest thing you could say!"

Mich.e.l.le smiles apologetically, but her gaze is pitiless. "You told me yourself-the two of you were fighting more often than not, and you said his possessiveness was driving you crazy."

"Yeah, we were a mess, but I loved it." I sigh, slumping back into the cracked red vinyl of the booth. "The drama, the pa.s.sion...it made me feel a part of something special. Like, here's this gorgeous amazing guy, and he's totally obsessed with me. That means there has to be something out of the ordinary about me, right? Something special."

Mich.e.l.le lets her head fall into her hands. "Lord help me, and the misguided teens of the world," is what I think she mutters. "When did being dysfunctional become s.e.xy? Yanni, the janitor at my office? He tells me he's in love with me every day. He leaves melted Hershey's Kisses in my chair, and collects every strand of hair that has fallen out of my head at my desk for the past five years. He made a doll out of it-don't laugh, it's not funny. He's fifty and balding-and he would kill for me. Does that sound s.e.xy to you?"

"Oh, Mich.e.l.le," I say. "That's like comparing apples to...pig t.u.r.d. The question is-are you going to report him?"

"h.e.l.l, no. He makes me feel special."

We look at each other, then burst out laughing. It's exactly the kind of release I need. Afterwards, I prop my chin on my hand, and smile at my aunt. "Does Uncle Derek know about your secret admirer?"

"Mmph. Uh-huh." She fans her face after taking a big bite of her spicy chicken. "Every time Derek visits me at the office, Yanni stands there and glares at him, and mumbles what I'm pretty sure are curses in his native tongue. It's like you say-kinda scary, but kinda hot."

"So not hot. Speaking of not hot, you have some sauce on your chin-left...down-you got it. So, how's Uncle Derek? I haven't seen him in a while."

Mich.e.l.le wipes her mouth with a napkin, smearing her lipstick a little. "Yeah, he's been busy at work. I haven't seen too much of him either, truthfully. I think he's avoiding me, and the whole baby issue. We've been fighting. A lot."

It's my turn to give her sympathy. Mich.e.l.le and Derek have been trying for six years to have a baby. Obviously, something's wrong. But Mich.e.l.le wants to conceive naturally, believing that if it's meant to be, then nature will take its course. Derek, on the other hand, is all for medical intervention. Both desperately want a baby. I feel so bad. They would make wonderful parents.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "It really sucks that you guys have to go through this."

"It's okay," she says, trying to wave off her sadness. "Anyway...you know what I think? Making a baby should be hard-it should be heartbreaking, and something you have to work for...because when it happens, then it truly feels like a miracle. Maybe if making babies weren't so easy for most people, then there wouldn't be all these neglected children in the world. When I finally get to hold that baby in my arms-man, I swear I will always treasure him or her."

My heart is so heavy for her. But hearing her say something like that-it helps put things into perspective for me. Me and my problems do not make up the universe-we are just a tiny speck in a world full of possibilities. And hope. As long as you're alive, there is always hope. That's what I see in Mich.e.l.le's eyes right now. And I'm so proud of her, proud to call her my au- Blaaarp!!!

"Excuse me," Mich.e.l.le mutters, covering her mouth. "Whoa, that was some spicy chicken! Uh, I think we'd better go. Yeah, let's go."

I quickly throw down a twenty, not daring to look up. "I'll meet you in the car."

Later, when she's dropping off me at the apartment, I swing my legs out of the car, but I turn back to face her. "She still loves him, you know?" I confide.

Mich.e.l.le nods, unsurprised. "And he still loves her. But, sometimes, it isn't enough. Sometimes you have to ask yourself if the person you're with makes you happy enough to forgive the misery they've caused."

Johnny, eyes full of apologies...

Acid boils in my stomach. I step out of the car onto the sidewalk. "Some things can't be forgiven," I say bitterly.

Chapter 7.

I wish I could say I spent the weekend in an empowered state of mind, but I would be totally lying. I spend all of Sat.u.r.day singing songs about love and heartbreak, at the top of my lungs, while crying my eyes out. I freak my dad out so bad that he locks himself in his room for the rest of the night. I also have to physically restrain myself from going to Johnny's online profile, and checking to see if Laundry Room Girl is on his friends list. Instead of giving in to that dumb urge, I unfriend him. I'm not going to stalk him online-I'm going to try my hardest not to, anyway.

Sunday is awful. Johnny breaks my heart over and over again by refusing to leave me alone once I'm back from my dad's. He camps out on my front porch and says he won't budge until I forgive him. He's drunk. I have to call Nick and Mack to come get him before the police show up. It's completely mortifying. He shouts my name over and over as they drag him away. Part of me cringes at the angst and the drama-the bigger part of me is like, "Yeah, your a.s.s better be out there screaming my name!" I am so twisted.

I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle seeing him at school tomorrow. It's going to hurt, and it's going to suck.

I cannot go to school today-there are rabid bats loose in my stomach. I'm going to be sick.

My phone starts jangling with Heather's kooky ringtone. I reluctantly reach for it.

"Get your a.s.s out of bed!" she bellows before I can say a word.

"No!" I snap, throwing my blanket over my head. "I have to stay home. Something's wrong with me."

"Yeah, you're a big baby. You're going."

"I'm not."

"Don't make me come over there and drag you out by your hair," Heather threatens. "Come on, Juliet! Have some pride."

"Ugh!" I flip the covers off of me. "Fine! I'm getting up. Happy?"

"Thrilled." Her cheerful laughter makes me want to stab something. "Text me later, 'kay?"

"Sure. Have a terrible day at school."

"Back at you. Love you!"

"Gr."

I hate when she's right. I stumble into bed and head straight for the shower. I love my showers. I could stand there all day, shutting out the rest of the world. I don't even care if I get all prune-y.

Finally, reluctantly, I get out and dry off. I stand in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door, and stare resolutely at my reflection.

"You're single now," I tell myself. "But that's okay-you've been single for most of your life. You'll be fine. But why did you have to change schools, you stupid, stupid cow?"

I smack my forehead into the gla.s.s for good measure, and then I have to laugh at myself through the pain. I was so looking forward to this day, and now...I just want it to be over with.

I choose pretty underwear, just because. The Leclare uniform is actually cute. Since it's warm weather, I have a choice between the polo shirt and the shirt and blazer. I slip on the blue polo with the Leclare crest, and the pleated charcoal gray skirt that goes with it. It looks good on me, and I'm relieved. I pull my hair back with a hair band, and put on a little more makeup than usual. Depending on how I apply it, I can either be the picture of innocence, or the s.l.u.tty school girl. I go for the s.l.u.tty school girl. It could be a mistake. Yeah, it's probably a mistake, but it's too late now.

I'm unlocking my car door when Nick's Range Rover pulls up. He parks at the curb, and the pa.s.senger window slides down, revealing Mack's smiling face. His ma.s.sive frame seems a little squished in the front seat.

"What up, Juliet!" he calls out. "Your chariot awaits!"

"What?" Laughing, I walk over to the car. "What are you guys doing here?"

Nick gets out of the driver's side, and jogs around to me. He looks good in his uniform-very hot rich boy in the polo shirt and gray slacks.

"We're here to give you a ride," he says, holding the backseat door open for me. He flashes his little boy grin at me. "Good morning, Juliet."

"Thanks, but I don't need a ride. I have a car." I gesture to my reliable little Nissan.

"It's your first day at Leclare, girl. You need to arrive in style," Mack declares. He pats the outside of the door for emphasis.

I look from him to Nick, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Did Johnny put you guys up to this?"

"No-" Nick starts to deny, but Mack cuts him off with a snort.

"Johnny hooked up with Jack Daniels last night, and now he has morning-after regrets. Dude can't say anything but, 'owww.' I never saw him that hung over." He laughs. "Dean told us to pick you up."

"Dean?" I mouth, completely surprised. "Why would he care?"

"I think he felt bad about Friday, you know? We all do." Nick looks down at the ground, shrugging uncomfortably. "He would've come himself, but he had an early morning meeting with Coach."

Dean felt bad? Dean has feelings? Confused, I slide into the backseat without another word. Truthfully, I'm relieved to have these two in my corner. Suddenly, my first day doesn't seem so daunting, not with Nick and Mack around.

"Hey, I was thinking about you last night," Mack says, half-turning in his seat to look at me.

"You were?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Not like that! Actually, my stomach was thinking about that awesome-what did you call it? The thing with the tortillas, and eggs, and salsa. You made it for us once? It was so good."

I settle back against the comfortable leather seat, smiling. "The Mexican lasagna?"

"Yeah! Man, I was drooling, picturing it last night."

"That's what you were thinking about?" Nick chuckles, slipping on his sungla.s.ses. "Thank G.o.d. You were looking in my direction with this dopey a.s.s grin on your face...I thought you were gonna start buying me flowers and s.h.i.t."

Big Mack laughs along with him-just for a few seconds. Then his face turns to stone, and his puppy dog eyes turn into a mad dog glare.

"That's not funny."

Nick winces. "Kidding, dude."

"I could make you another one," I say from the backseat. "Anytime. I love cooking for you guys."