Impulse (12 page)

317

None of It

Has much affected my appetite. Dinner, I hear, is served, and I plan to eat

every carb and fat-laden bite.

Why worry about calories, spare tires, lethargy? Living

medicated allows me not to care. Anyway,

Level Three also affords

me the chance to exercise.

Lifting until I ache or jogging myself into a trance are the best ways I can think of to forget about the big picture. Straddling the brink of exhaustion, blood thumping in my ears.

Clawing air, the only thing

worth worrying about, drawing another breath.

318

The very idea makes me high.

God, I sound like a bipolar

lunatic. Pack 'em on, pound

'em off. I could cry, because either way, it doesn't matter.

Dinner table, here I come, salivating at the spaghetti and meatball perfume.

Tony waves me over. Hell, why not? We can trade tales.

Hope his are as juicy as the ones I've got. Downright

messy.

319

Spaghetti and Meat Blobs

Not even sure about the "meat" part, although they kind of taste like dog food. Okay, like dog food smells.

I won't admit to eating it, not out loud. Surprising, the crap you'll eat if you get hungry enough. Worse crap than this, even, and this is pretty damn bad-- Meatball-like Crap in a Can. Served lukewarm over half-

cooked spaghetti. 315

320

Jeez, Conner is sure loading up his plate. I can't believe anyone would want a double helping of
this.
"Hey Conner, come here."

He sits across from me, grinning like Alice's goofball cat.
What
'
s up?
I point to his plate. "Not much. I just thought you might want mine, too."

Not sure I want this. I was starving until I got an up-close look.
316

321

We Decide

All the parents must have finished their visiting early and gone home long before the kitchen got busy reinventing dog food.

I don
'
t know if my parents would have been more horrified or satisfied.
Conner laughs.
My morn would probably have puked.

"We all may puke before the evening is over. Damn, can you see it? Marinara and meat by-products, splashed across stalls and walls. Yeah, man!" 317

322

Conner wrinkles his nose.

Well, I
'
m gonna chance it. My stomach is turning

cartwheels. Catharsis makes for a healthy appetite, I guess.

"Catharsis, eh? Sounds like you had an interesting day. Want to cough up a few details?" Of course, turnabout's fair play. I don't mind.

Sure,
he says, around a big, smooshy bite.
Just give me a few minutes to choke down this delicious Chef Boyar-D on
'
t meal.
318

323

I Knew He Had

A wicked sense of sarcasm--Conner's brand of humor. Mine too, tell the truth. Maybe that's why I like the guy. No one

could be as straight- arrow as the person he lets the world see. Totally plugged up. That's how most people would describe him.

But there's a kernel there... something worth trying to grow. Don't ask me what. Might be worth trying to figure it out. 319

324

He's giving the rundown on visiting day.
Dr Starr gave me Level Three, mostly I think because I held my tongue but still held my round.

Dad, at least, tried to pretend he gave half a damn. Yeah, right. Mom will always be the total uptight c-u-you know what.

Interesting, that he doesn't just say the word. Some sort of psychology there. Sheesh, who's the therapist around here, anyway? 320

325

It's the First Time

I've faced this situation. I feel violated. Raped by Paul's eyes. I hold out my hand and he drops my new salvation into my outstretched palm, eyes barely lifting as he says,

It will take a few weeks to really feel the effects, so don
'
t panic if your mood

swings intensify for a while.

We
'
ll keep you on the Prozac, too, just in case.

Oh, great. Fixed and ruined at the same time. Oh, well. They're the experts. Like I really believe that.

Dinner is everyone
'
s favorite, spaghetti à la Aspen Springs.

Hurry up. Wouldn
'
t want to miss out, would you?
321

326

He backs away, eyes still on a point somewhere around three feet off the ground. "Thanks, Paul," I say, turning my back to him.

Not that I'm not positive

he's scoping out my butt in exactly the same way.

The door closes and I rush to slide on my pants before he decides he's forgotten to tell me something. Then I take aim at the dining room.

327

I Guess You Could

Call this mess of red starch spaghetti. Most of the girls around me don't seem to care, gulping it down like chocolate. Or maybe like something else.

Check out my face,
says

Dahlia.
What does it look like I
'
ve been scarfing?

Her grin is ringed a messy, wet scarlet.

You probably would, too,
answers Devon.

Personally, I
'
d wait at least a week.

Gack! Disgusting. What is it with these people? Thank goodness they don't seem inclined to include me in their sick banter. 323

328

Just to prove me wrong, Dahlia asks loudly,
What about you, Vanessa? You ever munch carpet?

I consider the best way to answer such a loaded, leading question. My usual way of dealing with such things is withdrawal. Tonight, something wicked comes over me. "Never have, dear. Maybe because the first one I ever saw looked so much like yours. Scared me to death." 324

329

The Table Busts Up

Dahlia's face flares.
You sucking bitch.

This is kind of fun. "No, sweetie, I just told you I don't lean your direction, Of course, from what I hear, you teeter- totter. Is that true?"

Her mouth drops and she stares at my face, no doubt

trying to figure out just what

has come over me. Confusion

ping-pongs in her eyes.

Wh-who told you that?

This is really fun. Can it be the lithium, despite Paul's prediction? I don't think so, so it must be a bloom of mania. I'm a long, long way above blue. 325

330

"
Why,
everyone. Don't you know about the room- to-room gossip chain? 'Trade you two mediocre rumors for one really good one about Dahlia."

She could go either way. Perhaps thankfully, she chooses the easy way.
Ha! Who turned you on, anyway, Vanessa?

You
'
re pretty funny once you get going. Who knew you even had a sense of humor?
326

331

The Girls' Side of the Room

Jacks up with laughter, and it looks like lovely Vanessa is involved. Dahlia resembles a cobra, ready to strike, given just a bit more provocation. I wonder what Vanessa said, and what was her motivation to poke a verbal stick at such a reactive serpent. Her willingness to parry makes her even more attractive.

How fin,
comments Tony.
I think we
'
re seeing a whole

other side of Vanessa. Who
'
d

have guessed she could cause a stink?

"All women have an evil side. One minute they've got their tongue down your throat, the next they slice you wide open." 327

332

I don
'
t have much experience with the fair sex, but the ones I have known have never given me much trouble. I swear, they are much better friends than men.

Of course, most men either

avoid me like the plague, or swear their undying love.

I smile. "Don't look at me. Love is for children and dimwads." Most of me felt that way long before Emily. 328

333

But I Am Curious

"So... have you ever slept with a woman--tried a walk on the 'other side'? I mean, have you always been gay?"

I expect him to tell me what most gay guys say--that it's not a matter of choice, that they were born that way.

But he doesn't say anything, not right away. His face goes blank while he thinks about the right way to answer.

I
'
ve never slept with a girl,
but I never really had the chance. I
'
ve spent a lot of time in lockup. I try to believe that I was born

gay. But I
'
m not really

sure that
'
s true. When I was eight, this piece-of-slime boyfriend
329

334

of my ma
c
asked me to come

back into the bedroom to see

"
something special.
"
You can

guess what he wanted to do.

The only thing l knew about sex before that was it made my

ma scream. That day I screamed

too. Ma chose to ignore it.

Later she said it was all

my fault because I--no doubt

something genetic from my

dad
'
s side--was a little faggot.

Not long after, I was confined with boys, looking to act like men. And there were a few guards who used us for their sex toys.
330

335

Way Too Much Information

But hey, I asked, didn't I? I don't know what to say, what to do. Instinct tells me to reach out and touch him, but no

way. The other guys might get the wrong impression.
Tony
might get the wrong impression. Suddenly I have a strong urge to move to another

table. What I don't understand is how, despite the lurid tales he recited, Tony seems so stable.

Hey, sorry, man. Didn
'
t

mean to unload. Not looking for sympathy. Hope what I

just told you stays between you and me. I haven
'
t even owned up to all that
in therapy. Guess I
'
ve never been quite stoned enough.
331

336

"No problem, bro. Who would I tell, even if it was important?" And it's not. What the hell? The best thing about our conversation is the realization that others have problems as big as--or bigger

than--my own. Mine are huge. His are insurmountable. 332

337

What Got into Me?

Like Conner needed-- or wanted--to know any of that garbage. Jeez, fire me up, it's hard to put me out. At least he didn't look

too put off by what I said. Wonder what he'd think if I confessed the rest. I haven't told anyone since I spilled to Phillip.

Conner almost gives me no choice.
So what did you do, man? I mean, why did they lock you up? And how long were you in for?
333

338

Should I go ahead and tell him? It might make him freak out completely. And I kind of like having his company.

I'm sick of holding it inside, sick of it escaping my head every night when I dream. Thank God for Aspen Springs sleeping aids. I don't remember my dreams.

I decide to compromise. "I was in for aggravated assault on my ma's jerk-off boyfriend. I spent six mother-humping years, beating meat in juvie." 334

339

Conner's Sympathetic

Six years? For that?
he asks, eyes flashing anger.
The asshole deserved it. Did you happen to get your mom, too? She deserved more.

"Why didn't I think of that?" It's a joke. I definitely thought about it--I had lots of spare time to create great revenge fantasies.

Still, "But she got hers anyway. It wasn't the next boyfriend, or the one after, or the one after that. But one of them nailed her, first with his fists, 335

340

then with a hammer. It wasn't too long after they let me out, maybe a year. By then, I'd emancipated myself. No one missed me."

Shit, man, you were right. Your mom may have been even more screwed up than mine. Hard to believe that
'
s possible.

Maybe I will tell him the rest after all. But not tonight. I've tested the water--calm water. Telling the rest will be like testing a tsunami. 336

341

Think I'll Skip

"Recreating" tonight. My head is too full of too many bad memories. On my way back to my room, I find Paul, letting spaghetti junk clog in my throat. I manufacture a loogie, hawk it into a napkin. "Hey, dude," I say,

"I think I'm coming down with a cold. Can you bring me something for it?" Sudafed and Halcyon (my regular sleep helper in this place) should put me far beyond the reach of nightmares. 337

342

Have to clear it first,
Paul says.
Give me a couple of minutes.

It doesn't take long. In fact, I doubt he cleared it with anyone, but who cares? He pretended to do his duty anyway.

I gag down a big spoon of the sticky red syrup, chase it with a little white pill, lay down on the bed, and wait for my head to drift. 338

343

TV Tonight

Was a rerun of
Fear Factor

Every juvenile space cadet

really should watch six adult space cadets, jumping off buildings and eating mouse entrails. Mmmm.

Looked just like the spaghetti.

What was Carmella thinking?

She's such a ditz, but at least she bothers to relate, unlike the other house mothers--Linda, a hard little woman of forty or so, and Arlene, who must be pushing seventy.