The F- It List Part 17

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She has cancer." I hoped just laying it out there would clam the old lady up, but then it turned into a bloated pity fest.

"OH MY G.o.d! MY POOR ALEXANDRA. WHAT CAN I DO? ARE YOU OKAY? IS SHE OKAY? OH MY G.o.d!"

"Aunt Judy!" I had to yell several times until she took a break to exhale and grab a tissue from her bra. "I have to go. She's calling me on Skype right now," I lied.

"YOU TAKE CARE OF YOUR-"

I hung up on her. I hoped she'd get the hint to give me s.p.a.ce from Skype, but it could also go the way of the concerned check- in, too. I liked Aunt Judy, though. She sent fat checks for birthdays and was actually the fi rst person to show me a horror fi lm when I was eight. My parents had dropped me off at her house for a dinner date, and Aunt Judy put in a tape of one of her favorite childhood movies, Heidi, so I could watch while she made dinner. Turned out it was not Heidi, but Carrie, and by the time Aunt Judy came to tell me dinner was ready, Carrie was being scolded by her psycho mom and getting her period in the shower. Such sweet, innocent times those were.

Becca's icon, a headshot of the gorgeous Number Six Cylon from Battlestar Galactica, showed that she was signed on to Skype, but that didn't mean she would answer. I clicked on the video call b.u.t.ton and let it ring. No answer.

That gave me time to think about to night. I didn't want to call it a date, didn't want to think about the attachment and attention and commitment that came with having a boyfriend. I needed all of that for Becca, not some guy I only knew in my dreams until last week. So far it had been easy enough, fun even, and defi nitely fulfi lling in cer- tain areas. That's where I wanted it to stay.

--1 -0 -+1

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I decided not to change clothes.

In ten minutes, I'd leave to pick Leo up at his house, a house I'd driven by dozens of time with Becca riding shotgun when I fi rst got my license, in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. I liked those glimpses. Nothing serious about a glimpse. I didn't need any more serious.

Just as I was about to leave my room, my Skype rang. I thought it might be Aunt Judy checking in, but happily it was Becca. My view of her was skewed, her laptop on her stomach as she lay awkwardly on her bed with her neck propped up. I forgot for a minute that she had no hair, and her skin was almost chartreuse.

"Hey! How are you?" I asked like a dumba.s.s.

"Gurgle," was all she said, not the sound but the actual word. "I have a puke bucket next to my bed. A bucket of puke," she slurred.

I didn't know if she was tired or pumped full of drugs or both.

"Speaking of buckets," I tried to sound cheery, "I've been work- ing on your list. I draw the line at wearing two diff erent shoes, though."

She attempted a smile but could barely hold up her head.

"And I'm going to wait until you're better so we can hop a train like a hobo together."

Was Becca asleep?

"I better let you go. I'm going to see Bruce Campbell to night with Leo Dietz. Wish it was you, though." Did I really, or did I feel obligated to add that? G.o.d, she looked like s.h.i.t.

After Becca didn't answer, I started to say, "Well, bye. I'll talk to you-"

"Alex. Alex." B came back to life and spoke urgently. "You gotta -1- do something for me," she breathed.

0- "What? Anything." I meant it, too.

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"Find out if he's circ.u.mcised." And then she defi nitely was asleep.

Even sick as f.u.c.k and pumped with meds, Becca was a complete pervert. She better not die on me.

--1 -0 -+1

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CHAPTER.

16.

Leo waited outside for me on his front porch. His house had fancy landscaping with brightly colored window boxes and rounded bushes. A huge American fl ag fl ew from a post.

He slid into my dad's car wearing a pair of jeans spotted with oil and a dark green t-shirt. I couldn't remember if it was the same outfi t he wore earlier. He smelled minty. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," I agreed, and we drove off .

I had NPR on the radio, a story about Damien Echols, a South- erner wrongly sent to prison for a sick crime he didn't commit just because he was an all- black- wearing metalhead and the town needed a scapegoat. We listened intently, fi nishing the show as we parked at the Orpheum. A line snaked around the block.

"Good call on getting here early," I commended him. He placed his hand on my back to guide me toward the end of the line. It was an -1- odd feeling. Boyfriendish, almost, and unnecessary. I scooted ahead 0- of him to fi nd our spot in the queue.

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Most of the people waiting were in some kind of costume: fake blood, wigs, one guy even had a disembodied hand gripping onto his shoulder. There was enough people- watching to keep us talking and laughing. I even managed to accomplish one of Becca's early f.u.c.k- It List items- number 3: Chew ten pieces of gum at once and blow a qua dru ple bubble. It was rather hilarious to observe Leo as he watched me polish off an entire pack of his Dessert Delight gum. "This apple- pie gum is f.u.c.king gross," I spat through strained chomps of the ma.s.sive wad in my mouth.

"Not nearly as gross as watching you chew it."

I spat out several double bubbles but never made it close to the coveted qua dru ple.

At seven, the line began to move, and we made our way to our seats. "Do you mind if we sit on the aisle?" I requested. "I like to have an exit route."

"In case of a zombie attack, I'm a.s.suming." I nodded. Once we were in our seats, Leo asked, "Do you want any snacks?"

"Dots, if they have them," I said, and fi shed a few dollars out of my pocket.

"That's okay." He wouldn't take the money. "You can pay for coff ee later." Leo stood up and rubbed past my knees on his way out of the row. Standing next to him outside in line did nothing for me, but that small act of connecting with my knees made my stomach tingle.

I texted Becca while Leo was away.

About to see Bruce! I'll tell him u say hi As the lights dimmed for the start of the movie, Leo returned and slid --1 past me once again. I tried to ignore my libido's feelings to retain the -0 -+1 1 0 1.

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reverence of the Evil Dead fi lms. Leo handed me the box of Dots, while he munched from a tub of popcorn. I attempted to remove the clear wrap from around the yellow box in a movie- appropriate man- ner, but it took me forever to fi nd a weak spot to open the plastic. By the time I was in full crinkle, characters were talking and some people in front of me turned around to glare. I popped a Dot in my mouth and sneered back.

"Ew." I spit the Dot into my hand.

"What's wrong?" Leo leaned over and whispered into my ear.

He smelled all b.u.t.tery.

"I ate a green one," I whispered back. The warmth of his cheek near my mouth begged for a kiss, but I restrained myself.

"Here." He handed me a napkin from under his tub, and I rubbed the sticky mess from my hand into it.

Each time I pulled a new Dot out of the box, I held it up to the screen in hopes of discovering its color in the darkness, lest it be green again.

"Do you want some popcorn?" Leo whispered midway through the fi lm.

"No thank you. Want a Dot?"

"Are there only green ones left?"

"Yep," I told him, and he kissed me one, two, three times on the mouth. I wished there weren't so many people around us.

We watched the rest of the movie as members of an audience, reacting together with laughter and disgust at the appropriate inter- vals. When the fi lm ended, Bruce Campbell, the lead actor in the Evil Dead trilogy, as well as a cult G.o.d, walked out on the stage. He looked -1- paunchier and older than in the fi lms, but still had that great movie 0- star b.u.t.t chin I admired on him. The audience took several minutes to