Only Uni (4 page)

T
hey don’t have Chunky Monkey.”

“Cherries Garcia, either.”

Trish wanted to shake the freezer case. “Whose idea was it to stop at the Swifty-Mart?”

Jenn pointed to the far corner where Lex was loading a family-sized nachos platter with cheese. “She complained about not getting anything to eat at the party before we left.”

Trish pouted. “She’s got eighteen percent body fat. She can eat all that stuff and never gain an ounce. Unlike normal people like me.” She glared at the tiny freezer. “I need ice cream!”

Venus sashayed up. “I have nonfat frozen yogurt at my place.”

“Blech.” Both Trish and Jenn made faces at her.

Venus stabbed a manicured finger at Trish. “Then I don’t want to hear any more whining about your weight.”

Jenn bit back a smile and twirled a lock of her long hair.

Trish whimpered and leaned her forehead against the cool glass door.

Venus crossed her arms and sniffed. “And I hope you have a good reason why we had to leave early.”

Trish couldn’t remember what she had said to Alice. Hopefully nothing like “Why were you kissing my father?”

With brilliant timing, Lex had chosen that moment to find them in the midst of the crowd, Venus in tow. They’d made their excuses and left the party. Venus’s apartment was closest, so they headed there — first stopping off for Ben and Jerry’s.

Lex approached with a tray of tortilla chips globbed with fake cheese. “You ready to go? Why did we have to leave early?”

Venus’s cold eyes glittered. “It better not be just so you could avoid Kazuo.”

Trish’s gut burbled. “No, it’s not that.” Well, it was partly that.

Why was she always drawn to the bad boys? Like Joss, the handsome poet whose verses made her insides melt, who could only write when he was high on cocaine. Or Franc, whose ballroom dancing skills — especially the salsa — made her feel as sexy and talented as J-Lo, although he’d also had several concurrent affairs with ballet dancers on the side. Or Rob, who had been a little too close to his young and pretty cousin; or Andrew, who boosted cars; or Karl, who had multiple body piercings, some in rather unusual places.

She was like a dieter pulled against her will toward In-N-Out Burger. No, even In-N-Out was too healthy. Okay, Fat Burger. A dieter pulled toward Fat Murd — er, Burger.

“I can see why Trish fell for him.” Jenn’s behind wiggled in the air as she rummaged in the freezer. She straightened with a carton of generic neapolitan. “Kazuo’s really good looking.”

Venus stabbed her with a look. “Kazuo’s totally creepy.”

Jenn ducked her head and went to go pay for the ice cream.

Venus shifted her attack to Trish. “You owe me big-time for distracting him in the kitchen. I thought it would be easy, but boy, was I wrong.”

Trish cringed. She did owe her. Venus hated talking to men if she could possibly help it, and Kazuo probably drove her nuts. “He’s not creepy. He’s intense.”

Venus’s plucked eyebrow arched. “Intensely weird.”

A woman looking at cold drinks a few freezer doors down turned to give them a strange look.

“Will you keep your voice down?” Trish hissed, then turned and gave the woman a weak smile.

Jenn returned from paying for her ice cream. She nabbed a plastic spoon from the holder on the industrial freezer door. “He seemed kind of like Viggo Mortensen in
Lord of the Rings.
Muscular, brooding, but poetic.”

Hmm, good analogy. Hot but artistic. She could picture Kazuo in a cape with a sword —

Stop thinking about him, you dork.

Venus snorted. “That’s fine in Middle Earth, not in Silicon Valley.”

“Aw, come on.” Lex jabbed her in the ribs with a bony elbow. “You didn’t think he was at least a little cute?”

Venus’s glare could have melted the cheese on Lex’s nachos without the microwave. “You try talking with him about his painting. He makes absolutely no sense.”

Trish couldn’t argue about that very much. “He’s very . . . spiritual.” He practically worshipped his art. She remembered cringing in the corner as he raged in front of his painting, begging his muse to inspire him, which didn’t really make sense because supposedly she was his muse. Then again, being incomprehensible was pretty normal for him.

“Well? Why did we have to leave early?” Lex crunched a corn chip.

The words resonated in Trish’s head, but she couldn’t make herself say them out loud. As if they couldn’t possibly be true unless she spoke them. “I can’t tell you in the middle of Swifty-Mart. Can we go — ”

Jenn stuck her spoon in her mouth so she could pry open her ice cream pint. “Mmfffn shoo?”

“What?”

Jenn took out the spoon. “Was it that Alice lady? Want some, Venus?” She offered her ice cream, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Are you trying to make me smack you? I’m on a diet. Alice? The one with your mom?” Venus turned to Trish. “She introduced her to Grandma in the kitchen. While I was fending off your creepy ex-boyfriend.”

Trish stared at the goopy ice cream. “Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t distracted Kazuo.”

Venus gave a disgusted noise. “Now you tell me — ”

“What are you talking about?” Pieces of chips flew out of Lex’s mouth. “You ran like you were on fire.”

“I should have let Grandma find me. Or Kazuo. It would have been better.” The rage boiled inside her, like ramen noodle soup about to overflow the pot. “How did my life get so complicated?”

Venus rolled her eyes. “How is facing Kazuo complicated? Just tell him off.”

Trish gave an exasperated huff. “Grandma would have been so upset.”

“So?” She shrugged.

Trish wanted to scream. “Why do you and Lex love to make her mad?”

“Because despite what she thinks, Grandma does not run our lives for us.” Venus’s mouth settled into an uncompromising line.

“Plus it’s fun.” Lex ate another chip.

Jenn squeezed her temples. “She takes it out on us, you know.”

“Yeah!”
You tell ’em, Jenn.

“That’s why she brought Kazuo for Trish.”

“Yeah! And if I hadn’t run from him I wouldn’t have seen Dad kissing Alice — ” She choked. What did she just say? No . . . not in the middle of Swifty-Mart. This was a bad dream.

Everyone froze. Including the lady a few freezer doors down. The tinny music from the store speakers bounced along as if nothing was wrong.

“No way.” Lex stared at her.

Venus grabbed Jenn’s spoon and scooped a hunk of ice cream.

Jenn shoved the ice cream carton at her. “Are you sure?” She furiously twirled a lock of her long hair, her breath coming in gasps. “Where were they? Maybe you didn’t see — ”

“He turned and looked at me.”

Jenn held Trish’s anguished look for a long moment before dropping her gaze toward the cracked linoleum floor.

The woman next to them tsked. Venus glared at her until she scampered away.

Trish buried her head in her hands. She saw Dad’s face, and Alice’s. Her heart thudded in her ears with a dull sound, like one of those big
taiko
drums.

“What are you going to do?”

Trish couldn’t tell who had whispered it. It was like curling smoke on the edge of the darkness in front of her eyes. There was going to be a huge fire. An explosion, more like.

Venus cleared her throat. “Well, you won’t decide in Swifty-Mart. Let’s go.”

After leaving Venus’s apartment, Trish was so nervous driving to her parents’ home that she almost had a couple of accidents. Well, not involving other cars, at least — but slamming into the highway median probably wouldn’t be good for her health, regardless.

Her mom’s Avalon sat in the driveway, but not her dad’s Highlander. She couldn’t quite decide if she was happy or upset her dad wasn’t home. Where was he? She tried not to feel resentment that he wasn’t around or wonder who he was with.
Don’t go there
. At least she could talk privately to Mom.

Trish geared up as if she were preparing to go into a cleanroom at work. Tissues? Check. Glass of water? Check. Pillow for protection from flying objects? Check.

She knocked on the bedroom door. “Mom?”

This was so wrong. A daughter should not have to tell her mother something like this. But Trish knew World War III would erupt if Mom found out on her own and then discovered Trish hadn’t told her.

Not that this would have fewer casualties in figurines and other breakables, but at least Mom wouldn’t be peeved at
Trish.

She was sitting up in bed, reading a book. She blinked at Trish over the tops of her glasses. “Hi, sweetie. Why are you here? I’d have thought you’d have gone back to your apartment.” Mom perked up. “Did you want to spend the night?”

“No.” On the bedside table — glass of water, nearly full. Ooh, that was a lot of liquid that could wet the carpet. Trish swooped in and snatched it up. “Can I drink this? Thanks.” She downed it in a few seconds.

Ew.
Good thing she tossed it back so fast. “What is that?”

“Barley water.”

“Yech.”

Mom raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t ask you to drink it.”

What else was in grabbing and throwing range? Bedside clock and lamp. She grabbed them and laid them on the floor a good three feet away. “Mom, I have something to tell you.”

“What are you doing? I need the light to read.” She flapped her hand at the lamp as if that would bring it back to her.

Trish turned to the dresser and started scooping jewelry and a few Precious Moments figurines into the lingerie drawer. “Mom, you’re not going to like this.”

“Don’t put away my figurines. Now I’ll have to set them all up again.” Mom sat straight up in bed and pulled back the covers to get out.

“I saw Dad kissing another woman.”

Mom’s naturally pale face whitened a shade, and she swallowed hard. She settled back into her pillows, breathing hard, her hand at her throat. “Was it tonight?” Her voice had become wispy.

What? This was unnatural for Mom. She was usually throwing curveballs at the walls at this point. Trish nodded, then realized her mouth was still open. She snapped it shut.

Mom’s shoulders slumped. She curled in on herself and turned her head away.

“Mom?” She almost asked, “Are you okay?” but that would be pretty stupid.

“I . . . your . . . father . . .” Trish could barely make out the words.

“Oh, Mom.” Trish gripped one of the costume rings on her fingers. The cheap metal bent. “I’m sorry — Mom!”

Mom slumped over, unconscious.

FOUR

Trish hated how the hospital smelled. Bitterness had become a scent in the air, as hard to remove as cigarette smoke or cheap perfume. It clogged her lungs and made her gag.

Her cousins were on their way, twenty minutes tops. It wasn’t soon enough. She wanted one person to hold her hand, another to talk with the nurses and doctors, and someone else to fill out the forms and try to get a hold of her father.

Oh, and she probably needed to re-park her RAV4. Although she didn’t think she was
exactly
in the middle of the entrance way. She certainly tried parking closer to the side.

She kept rubbing her arms, partly to warm them, partly to massage the aching muscles. Man, for someone so small, her mother weighed a ton, even carrying her the short distance from the bedroom to her car. Or maybe Trish was a wimp. Miss 18-Percent-Body-Fat-Lex would probably say she lacked muscle tone or something like that. At least she’d been able to flag a few brawny paramedics to carry Mom into the emergency room. Where were they, anyway? They were cute . . .

Stop it! You have men on the brain. God might hear you.

After all, isn’t that what this was about? Why else would this come crashing down on her two days after fornicating (yet again) with her ex-boyfriend?

She liked that word. It made her feel dirty and nasty and miserable, which is exactly how she wanted to feel right now. She deserved to be flagellated. Another good word.

The sliding doors whooshed open and Dad breezed in, curly hair disheveled. He looked so calm, Trish wanted to scratch the unconcern off his face.

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you!” Her voice had risen to a glass-shattering pitch. Her mind tried to tell herself to calm down, but her mouth kept going. “Every time I call your cell, it goes straight to voice mail.”