Chapter Five
At this time, I�m awakened by the ringing of my phone, the strains of Akai Nikkichou (red strings of fate song) rustling me from sleep. I didn�t recognize the number, but I decided to answer anyway.
�Yello?� I asked groggily.
�Morning, Schoolgirl,� Boss said cheerfully, making me surprised at how well my subconscious brain replicated his voice. Good job, brain! �I woke you, didn�t I?�
�Disco,� I replied, hoping he would catch the Pulp Fiction reference.
�I�m not trying to find an intercom system here,� he said nonchalantly. This man is good�he catches every reference I make! �Anyway, the doctors want me to basically get the fuck out of here, so why not hitch up your horse-drawn carriage and get on over here, Cinderella?� He�s obviously taken his pain pills already. They�re making him crazy.
�I�ll be there by midnight,� I joked as he hung up his phone. As I got out of bed, I felt so tired that I wondered if there was any point to changing clothes. My pajama pants were cute plaid pattern that could pass as pants at a hospital. They probably get all sorts of people coming in wearing all sorts of weird outfits, anyway, and plaid pajama pants aren�t that bad. I left my hair up in its ponytail, slipped into a pair of sandals, but I did manage to brush my teeth and I decided to put on the tiniest bit of mascara to seal the deal.
The rest of the house was asleep, which just showed how early it was, so I left the house as quietly as a church mouse and got to Bonkura. Yawning, and becoming a bit more excited about the imminent opening of Panama City Beach�s Starbucks, I settled into the driver�s seat and drove off to the hospital, a drive that, thankfully, isn�t as long as some of the other drives I�m used to making.
I walked into the ER again and found it almost the same as the last time I was there, filled with what people who work in medicine sometimes refer to as �gomers�, an acronym that means �get out of my emergency room�. They are the aforementioned people that don�t appear to be having emergencies, but none of the clinics are open yet, so they become gomers.
�Looks like you took my advice to heart,� I heard Boss say, and I turned to see him sitting in one of the chairs, reading the paper. He was, unfortunately, dressed in the same clothing he came to the hospital in, meaning a bloodied shirt. However, he looked so much better than when I saw him last night. I know they must�ve done the blood transfusion.
�Morning,� I said to him, smiling brightly. �Ready to go on home?�
�Yeah.� As he stood up, he grimaced slightly, clutching his left arm with his right one. �Already got all the paperwork done, so all you need to do is cart me around. See, I�m a considerate guy.�
And yet so aloof as to my feelings for you.
�All right then.� His ability to walk was not impaired, so he followed me normally back to Bonkura. �Try not to cringe too much. I know it�s a terrible sight to behold.�
�That car is a hunk of junk. I need to help you buy a new one.� Oooh! That might look a little risky. I mean, the shack paid kind of well, so I could say I had been saving up�but that would be a bold-faced lie. I couldn�t do that.
�Let�s take a rain check on that one,� I said humbly as we both settled into our seats. �Next stop is Orangeville!� Almost as soon as I got onto the road, though, he fell asleep. As soon as I could confirm that he was asleep, I put a CD on and sang along for the rest of the trip, only waking my sleeping cargo up when I got into a parking spot at Orangeville. He was still pretty groggy and kind of disoriented when I escorted him to his door, so I thought I could just part with a nice little bye and an offer of later phone calls, as per usual. However, my plan was somewhat foiled, in a good way.
�Hey, Eva,� Boss said, poking his head out of the door to talk to me as I walked off.
�Hmmm?� I asked, whirling around on my heels to face him.
�You have a good singing voice,� he told me, shutting his door. I stood there in the hall for a moment, utterly flattered, as I�m terribly shy about singing in front of others. That�s why I waited for him to go to sleep before I even tried singing. Being complimented on something I tend to hide from the world�was a wonderful thing.
�Thank you,� I said to the closed door. In that moment, I had what recovering alcoholics sometimes refer to as a moment of clarity. I realized, right then, standing in that nice hallway, that I was going to some how, some way, make that man my boyfriend. I even balled my fist up while I told myself this, kind of like how girls in anime shows do, to make it official.
Then, the phrase �some how some way� made me think of Snoop Dogg�s Gin and Juice and I was away laughing on a fast camel. Whatever that means. However, as soon as I got back home, I fell right back asleep. Such is life!
---
February came in with a vengeance. The opening date for Dad�s Starbucks is set for the 5th, the first Saturday of the month, so he is hustling around making sure all the last-minute things are in place, approving the very last of the applicants, and dusting the absolute shit out of everything in the store. Mom is getting closer to closing on a jewel of a house and she is drooling over the amount of commission that she knows she�ll get on closing day, the 8th. Mike�s school is having a Valentine�s Day dance on the 12th, the Friday before V-Day itself, and needs to buy something to wear for it sometime.
Then, there�s me. I don�t have a damn thing to do this month so far except rue the eventual coming of the 14th. With my staunchly single position comes an almost natural dislike of Valentine�s Day. The only thing I remotely like about the day is that it�s two days before my birthday. That�s right; I�m turning 18 on the 16th. What am I asking for? Either money or a new car (because Bonkura is on its last limbs). Pretty simple, huh?
February 1 was a Tuesday, widely known to be the least valuable day of the work week. Rajani, a natural chatterbox when provoked, was still yapping all about her date with some guy called Stephen, how it went so well, what they did (saw a movie), and what happened afterwards (Bollywood kiss). The problem is that I don�t give .5 of a shit about any of this after hearing it for soooo loooong. I don�t know how to politely tell Rajani that, so I�m going to take a rain check on it. I am still thinking about how to tell Boss what I feel.
Stephen drives to school, so he�s stationed in the student parking lot when I pull in. Rajani says she�ll see me in class and runs off to Stephen faster than some Olympic runners have, I�m sure. She�s already to the �obnoxious public displays of affection�, or OPDA, stage. Boy, do kids move fast these days.
The darkroom is generally a good place to think in, especially the dark-darkroom, a tiny, completely dark room wherein one removes film from the canister and places it in a larger canister, where it will become fixed and ready for developing from. This has to be done in 100% darkness or else the film will be ruined. There�s a light above the door (a red light, because those are okay in the normal darkroom) that says when someone�s in the dark-darkroom so nobody screws up their film by accident. Now, I�m sitting in the one chair, gathering my thoughts about everything. I know already that I don�t want to be part of an obnoxious couple, but I highly doubt that Boss is in any way obnoxious. I just need to tell him straight-up and honestly how I�m feeling, or else it won�t be real.
But first, I need to prepare somehow.
Soon, there�s a knock on the door, disturbing my thought processes.
�Who�s there?� I ask.
�Uhm, it�s Aaron,� the guy otherwise known as Inept Boy replies in his inept way. �Can I, like, use the dark-darkroom now?� I heard a faint female giggle as well. Oh, he must have Uglina with him. How delightful!
�Hold on a second.� I stood up and opened the door to see Inept Boy and Uglina standing together, holding hands. �Good luck fitting in there,� I said, furrowing my brow at Uglina, who displayed a look of confusion as I walked off. I watched them go in there�together�and shut the door, then I decided to go tell the teacher that they might be fucking in there. I know for a God-given fact that NOBODY else wants to be working in a totally dark room that someone may have copulated in. So, I told the teacher what was happening and she ran with light speed over to the dark-darkroom, throwing open the door without knocking. Naturally, everyone in the darkroom turned to look at what was going on. The teacher opened the door to find the two of them in an embrace, Uglina missing her shirt. She sent both of them to the principal straightaway.
That wasn�t the only highlight of my day.
I dropped the lovelorn Rajani off at her house and was on my way back home when my phone rang. Generally, I don�t answer my phone while driving, so I pulled over into a gas station to answer.
�Bueno,� I said into the phone upon realizing that it was Boss, just to confuse him.
�Right back at you, Schoolgirl. Do you feel like going on a job today?�
�The real question is, do you?� His injury was still fairly recent. �I mean, do you feel okay?�
�I�m not 100 percent just yet. I�m at like 92 percent, though, which is an A anyway. Besides, this guy is a freak.�
�Now you have my attention. What are the specifics?�
�His name is Nate. He was a friend of mine back in high school, but he had this nasty habit of hitting on my girlfriends. He wasn�t as bad as Mike was, but he�s an annoying douche rocket and don�t question my motives.�
�Not going to. This sounds like fun.�
�It will be. Come on over and we�ll carpool there.�
You should know by now that I went very fast to get to Orangeville. I was already there and at Boss� doorstep when I realized that I didn�t have my special purse with me, so I told him this as soon as he opened the door.
�No problem,� he told me. �Come in and I�ll let you borrow one of mine.� He led me up to his bedroom area and took out a large black trunk with a combination lock on it, put in the combo, and opened it up to reveal a myriad of weapons. There were small guns, big guns, what appeared to be an AK-47, a few hunting knives, ammo for all those guns, and what, in retrospect, was a subtle preview of the job ahead: a real Japanese samurai sword. �Pick your poison.� I chose a gun similar to Brownie because I knew I could operate it. �Good choice. We�ll go in just a second.� He scurried over to his bed, sat down, and finished up smoking a cigarette. I had never seen him do this before.
�I didn�t know you smoked. I�m not allergic to it or anything, just never seen you do it.� He nodded knowingly and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
�I haven�t done it in a while, but this arm has hurt so goddamn bad that I think now is a good time to start again.� Remember how I said I�m straight-edge earlier? Oh, I still am, but the way Boss smoked was so damn attractive that I let this one go. When he was done, he stubbed out the butt and was ready to go. He favored a black button-up shirt and hole-y jeans again, which was fine by me!
He said he was okay to drive, so I let him drive me out to a small community of ramshackle apartments. This place was seriously slummy or a pig sty of some sort. I�m not sure how anyone could live in it, it looked so foul.
�Nate�s in room 203. I�ll do the talking,� Boss offered as I followed him up a flight of frighteningly creaky wooden steps.
�Who the fuck could live in this dump?� I muttered, making Boss laugh.
�The rent�s about $300 a month and Nate is infamous for not being able to hold down a job. This is about the only place he can live in, no matter how much of a shit hole it is.� We reached 203, marked by an old wooden door marred by scuff marks, cuts, and peeling paint. Boss pressed the doorbell and knocked, just in case the bell didn�t work, which wouldn�t be too much of a surprise. Soon enough, Nate answered.
Oh my God! He�s so ugly he could stop traffic! I tried not to look too disgusted as I gave him an once-over. He had long, greasy dirty blonde hair that paled in comparison to Boss� mane. He was pallid, not pale like Boss and me. This dude looked like he was anemic. He wore slightly crooked glasses, a black T-shirt advertising some anime series, jeans, and no shoes.
�Gabe!� he said in an unnaturally squeaky voice. Has this guy gone through puberty yet? I can�t really discern an Adam�s apple on him. Is that normal? �Great to see you again, man. Who�s the girl?� Nate looked me over like a hungry man looks at a buffet.
�This,� Boss said, standing in front of me protectively, �is Eva.�
�Yoroshiku,� Nate answered in badly accented Japanese. I know very well that means pleasure, as in either �Pleasure to meet you� or �I want you to pleasure me.� However, the first form generally requires some more polite language, whereas the second doesn�t, and the way this greasy asshole said it is obviously intended as a double entendre. I decided to be a smart-ass.
�It�s yoroshiku,� I replied with the correct accent. Nate looked so embarrassed that I thought he would melt into the floor. Shut down!
�Can we come in?� Boss asked.
�Sure.� Nate ushered us in. Okay, as far as the interior decorating skills of my jobs so far, Jenny had the best, followed by Mike, because it wasn�t his fault that the hotel had shitty taste in design. However, Nate was completely responsible for the state of his apartment, and he had no taste. There was a fairly large TV in his open living room. It was flanked by an Xbox, a GameCube, and a plethora of games that I had never seen before, as well as anime DVDs and a few assorted VHS tapes. There was a couch that looked like it had been picked up from someone else�s trash, a coffee table that was a pretty lame excuse for a coffee table, and a few cups of Cup Noodles lying around. That right there had to be the reason he looked so anemic�Cup Noodles don�t make for a balanced diet because they lack protein and iron, which people generally get from MEAT.
�Nice place,� Boss said in obvious disgust.
�Yeah, I know.� Nate was unable to register Boss� disgust. �Sit down, sit down!� Neither of us did, but Nate sat down on that ugly couch. I let my eyes wander and saw a samurai sword, sheathed, sitting on a pedestal. This, along with the game systems and TV, would be what someone would steal if they broke in. I�m sure there was nothing of value in the rest of the apartment.
�How�s your job going? You still working down at the video game store?� Boss asked.
�Actually, no. I was only a seasonal employee there, so when the holidays were over, they let me go.�
�Well, ain�t that a bitch,� Boss said sarcastically.
�Tell me about it. The discount there rocked!� Nate grinned. �But Gabe, enough about my woes with employment. Tell me a little more about your little lady.� He gave me another hungry-guy-at-a-buffet look. �So, do you know Japanese?�
�More than you do,� I replied when I realized he was talking to me. He looked embarrassed and searched for a topic change.
�Goddammit, Nate, this is exactly why I hate your greasy ass!� Boss screamed upon seeing the hungry-guy-at-a-buffet look. �You always, always hit on any girl that�s with me. You would probably hit on my mom if she were with me!�
�What are you talking about?� Nate asked in denial.
�What you�re doing right now. You�re hitting on Eva and it�s just pathetic.�
�No I�m not.�
�Yes you are! I saw the look you gave her. Why not stop doing that? She�s disgusted by you.� He can tell?
�Are you implying that I�m disgusting?� Nate asked, standing up suddenly.
�Yes,� Boss answered sternly. Nate glowered at Boss, whirled around, and went for his sword, unsheathing it. Whoa, that thing looks pretty sharp. I can see my shocked face reflecting in its surface.
�Do you want to say that again to my face?� Nate asked, trying to be tough, but kind of failing. Boss snickered at him.
�Do you want to not sound like a 12-year-old on the playground when you�re threatening me?� Boss asked in all seriousness.
�Fine! I�ll show you that I�m not hitting on her!� Before I could move, Nate advanced on me and slashed his sword straight down. I shut my eyes, fearful that I could possibly die this way�slashed open by a freaky dude without ever telling Boss how I felt. I felt the sword poke my baby fat ever so slightly, then disappear, so I opened my eyes again and looked down to see that the damn sword had cut a slit in ALL of my clothing.
The shirts we wear at school are sheer white, so all the girls wear something else underneath because visible bra syndrome is just trashy. I prefer to wear a white camisole-type shirt and then a light-colored bra, all layered up under my shirt. Unfortunately, now there is a large vertical gash through all three of those layers, right down the middle. My first instinct was to protect my modesty as much as possible, so I tried to pull together my clothing, but it didn�t quite work. So, I hugged myself with both my arms and pointedly kicked Nate in the crotch.
�You son of a bitch!� I wailed. �You�re disgusting! You�re trash! You�re nasty! You�re perverted! GO FUCK YOURSELF!� Nate had fallen to the floor after his crotch kick, and right now he was trying to position himself so he could peek up my skirt. �Even now you�re trying to get a look!� I crunched his crotch again, making him scream out in pain. �No woman will ever respect you! Ever! EVER!� I stepped on his crotch one more time (three for good luck) and spat on his face, all the time still desperately hugging myself because I knew very well that my bra was split down the middle and would open up like an oyster shell if I moved my arms away.
I stepped back to admire my handiwork�a nasty fucker wailing in pain on the floor�but only got a view of it for a few seconds, as Boss performed a coup de grace to put this miserable fucker out. He pelted Nate with bullet after bullet until his cartridge was spent and I was now able to observe a man who had more holes in him than a block of Swiss cheese. My jaw dropped in awe. I kept my back to Boss this whole time�that�s why I couldn�t see him aiming his gun and waiting until I was done�because of the whole broken clothing thing. Now, I felt so embarrassed, mortified, and violated that I slumped down and tried to hide myself. I heard footsteps coming towards me and responded by tightening my death grip on myself even more.
�He was worthless, wasn�t he?� Boss asked me softly. I nodded slightly. �Here.� I was handed Boss� button-up shirt. �Wear that for the time being.�
�Don�t look,� I said in a raspy voice.
�I won�t.� Confident that he wouldn�t look, I stood up and let go of myself, hurriedly throwing on the shirt and buttoning it up. It was fairly baggy, but since it was black, it covered everything up. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Boss standing there, wearing a �what can ya do� look, wearing a white shirt now.
�You�� I began.
�Lucky I wore another shirt under this one, huh?� He grinned. �Come on, let�s go.�
I slumped down in his passenger seat, still feeling thoroughly shitty, now thankfully clad in his shirt. This appeared to be my nadir. I couldn�t get any lower from here. So, I decided that I would bite the bullet and tell him now.
�There�s something I need to tell you,� I began shakily as we left the slum complex.
�Go ahead.�
Remember all that practicing I did back in the dark-darkroom? I had all these eloquent speeches ready, like an actress with her award acceptance speeches. I thought I would possibly use one of them�at a later date. I also didn�t think that I would have my clothing slashed open by a freak, so there go my speeches!
�I really like you.�
�I like you too, Eva. You work so well and you�re a surgeon with a gun.�
�No, that�s not what I mean. I mean that I really like you.� I said that second sentence very slowly, as if the words struggled to come out of my mouth. This was followed by a pregnant pause.
�That�s very nice of you,� Boss said quietly. �But you�re underage. I can�t do that.�
�I�m turning 18 on the 16th!� I protested loudly. �I�m already the age of consent in many states!� It�s true. I researched it once. In some states, the age of consent is fourteen.
�I know that. I just�I�m still getting over Jenny somewhat. I�m not really sure if I�m ready to just open myself up again.�
I had nothing else to say. I felt this terrible weight upon me, pushing down on me, bringing me closer to the center of the Earth, where the molten lava would surely burn up my broken heart. When we returned to Orangeville, I didn�t even dignify Boss with any sort of goodbye. I just left his gun sitting in his passenger seat and hustled off to Bonkura, careful to avert my eyes away from him. As soon as I was back in my own car, I buried my head in my hands and cried for a good long time. Then, I effortlessly drove out of there, back home, where I could use a pillow instead of my hands.
It wasn�t fair. Every time I fell for a guy, he would be incredibly unavailable. To date, I�ve been crushed by three guys. First was some guy back in middle school. I can�t even remember his name, that�s how unimportant he was to me in the long run. Second was Chris. Enough said. Now there was Boss. My current score is now 0-3. I have a terrible track record.
---
The last conversation I had with Boss created a rift so deep between us that we didn�t talk for days on end. As the days passed, I grew to hate what I had become. My self-hatred was not helped by the fact that the rest of the Dream Team were coupled up. Rajani couldn�t go for an hour or so without talking about Stephen and Chris would intermittently discuss his boyfriend, David, too. I just glumly played along with them, listening and listening, until Valentine�s Day was upon us.
The rest of my family was happy on the 14th. Dad�s Starbucks was going swimmingly; everyone loved it, including myself. Mom earned her commission and kept saying that she would take me down to the dealership sometime soon to look for a new car. Mike had a girlfriend now, too. He said she was called Debbie but wouldn�t say much else about her. Basically, everyone in the Lyle household except me had a personal victory to be happy about.
On Valentine�s Day, my parents always buy one of those yummy Whitman�s Samplers for me. They also get one of those funny cards. This one had a picture of dinosaurs eating cavemen out of a heart-shaped box and the caption �Dinosaurs on Valentine�s Day�. I put my Sampler in the passenger seat of Bonkura and would pick out a piece to eat at every red light until I got to Rajani�s place.
�Good morning!� she sang as she got into Bonkura. I promptly put my Sampler in the back. Rajani was so happy that her smile could blind someone. Were I at any other place in my life, I would be happy for her, but right now, I hated that she was happy and I wasn�t. �Oh, today is going to be so good. I think Stephen is going to get a bracelet for me. He kept looking at my wrist yesterday and nodding. That has to mean something good, doesn�t it?�
I remained silent, pretending to concentrate very hard on driving.
�He�s so good to me. I�m quite lucky. My mom says I should be thanking�some sort of god�for this relationship. I think it was the goddess of love or something. So I�ve been thanking her every day.� Rajani paused for my input, but I provided none. �What�s wrong, Eva?�
�Shut up. Just shut up,� I replied.
�What? Why?�
�Because I couldn�t give a shit if I tried about you and Stephen.�
�Don�t be so rude, Eva!�
�You don�t be so rude! You�re fully aware that I am the only single member of the Dream Team today, just like all the other Valentine�s Days! And yet instead of respecting me by not gabbing on and on about your significant other, you choose to rub it in even further! I hate Valentine�s Day, I hate how fickle men are, and I hate friends who don�t understand how it feels!� At the end there, I was screaming, and that was right when we pulled in to the school parking lot. Rajani was so shocked that she didn�t even say goodbye. She just went off, found Stephen, and gave him a tight bear hug followed by a long long kiss. Is her intention to rub it in even more?!
I think there�s something in the water here because every coupled person at this damn school was all over their significant other like white on rice today. They were, of course, giving gifts as well. The fact that I go to a prep school means that the kids here are all loaded enough to give big-name jewelry like Tiffany as Valentine�s Day gifts. I saw a lot of promise rings and bracelets, but there were some sparkling new earrings and necklaces, too. I�m sure that when the relationships are over, I�ll see that gorgeous jewelry at the pawn shop. Memo to self: start looking around at pawn shops. There were also beautiful bouquets of flowers, lavish chocolates like Godiva, some pink striped Victoria�s Secret bags, and cornucopias of balloons.
It seemed as if today was made just for the purpose of making singles feel terrible because nobody was buying them anything.
The ride home that day was pointedly awkward because Rajani�s very headstrong and hates to admit that she was wrong about anything. In fact, she refused to say anything to me for the whole ride, instead looking out the window, picking at her perfectly shaped cuticles, or fiddling with her new Tiffany chain bracelet. I dropped her off at her place and headed home straightaway, but there was this nagging thought in the back of my mind about�you guessed it�Boss. Like I said, we hadn�t talked in a long while. Hell, I still have two items of his clothing. I washed them already.
At least Tommy was home and very happy to see me when I got in, but she�s a cat. She�s always happy when I�m around, especially if I have food for her. I just wish she would eat the cherry-filled pieces from my Sampler because I despise cherries. However, today is different with Tommy, too. She keeps staring at my side door. I�m not letting her out yet because I don�t know where she could go, so for now she�s an indoor cat. I go over to her to see what is going on and see that she�s staring at an envelope that someone slid under my door, like in Office Space. Of course, my boundless curiosity is piqued. I walked over, petting Tommy on the way, and picked up the envelope, turning it over to see if there was any name or anything on it. The envelope said �Eva� in unfamiliar handwriting. This served to make me even more curious and I hustled to open this mysterious envelope, sitting down on my bed to read its contents.
�Dear Eva,� it began. �I�ve been a total idiot and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. You had the balls to tell me how you felt about me. I�m sure that can be hard for girls sometimes because they probably fear the exact thing I foolishly gave you�rejection. You, on the other hand, were unafraid to tell me everything. I owe you more respect than that. I�ve been thinking it over since we last talked. I considered our rapidly closing age gap, how close we already were, and how I felt about you (guys do have feelings, too, surprise as that may be). Then I went and got some NASA scientists�just kidding. Anyway, I came to the conclusion that I�ve been stupid and I want to make it up to you on the 16th.� I guessed by the third sentence who this letter was from, so I didn�t need to read the signature. I didn�t get to that part anyway because I was both shocked and excited by what I read within the letter.
I tried to hide how happy I was, but that was impossible. When my family picked up on this sudden change in feeling, I told them that I was excited about my birthday. In a way, this is true. I mean, I�m going to be legal! It�s exciting to everyone, no matter what. However, if you look at my birthday as one of those yummy hot fudge cakes they have at Shoney�s, with all the layers of cake, fudge, and ice cream acting as things that were already exciting about my upcoming birthday, this letter just serves as that top layer of fudge and whipped cream.
Damn it, now I want some cake.
CONTINUE to Chapter Six
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