The Lighter Side of Life and Death (23 page)

“You don’t have to explain,” I break in. I’ve already heard too much. We never stood a chance. Her feelings for him run down to the roots. Sooner or later that would’ve ruined us, even if we managed to stay a secret.

“I’ve tried to stop,” Colette says, her face earnest and her voice pleading. She wants me to understand. This is what she meant when she talked about
twisted romantic webs
, the secretly remarkable Ari Lightman.

I know exactly what she means. I’m trying to stop at this exact moment.

“Do they know you’re here?” she continues. “Your father and Nina?” Her eyes fill with worry again.

“It’s fine,” I assure her. “I told my dad it was over between us.”

“It is.” She steps quickly towards me. Her hand reaches for mine on the counter. It’s such a feeble gesture that I’m surprised I don’t pull away. “I’m sorry.”

I grip her fingers, angry with myself for going easy on her. The thing is, I can’t make her like me any more than she does. It’s exhausting caring about someone more than they care about you. I’ll be almost glad to let it go.

I reach across the counter to curve my other hand around her neck. Colette’s bottom lip droops in surprise. Her face springs towards me. She kisses me hard and then pulls back without warning. “You should go,” she says.

So no last time. We’re done. “Okay,” I say quietly. “This is it then.” My ribs throb with missing her. I squeeze her hand again over the counter and release it before she can squeeze back. I walk up her stairs for the final time, surprised all over again when I get to the top and find the sun still blazing through the laundry room window.

I breathe in sunshine as I open the side door and step onto the lawn. As terrible as this feels, it’s over.

I don’t know Colette Fournier anymore.

I’m free.

Jamie answers my
call on the second ring. He picks me up at the 7-Eleven three blocks from Colette’s apartment and talks nonstop to make up for my silence. It’s cool; I haven’t heard him talk so much since the night of the party almost two months ago. I’m not even paying attention to where we’re going; I’m just listening and nodding at him.

He pulls into the North Star Chinese Buffet parking lot and tells me he’s hungry and would I mind? Nope, I’m starving too. Burke finished my tuna melt and Brianna blindsided me before I had a chance to eat its replacement.

We grab two seats in the corner and down so much barbecued pork and Shanghai noodles that we make the guy in
Super Size Me
look like an anorexic. Jamie asks whatever happened to the dead psycho cat and I tell him about the box in the garage and Brianna going fierce diva on me.

“At least the cat’s gone,” Jamie offers. “One less enemy on the premises.”

“The cat was easier to deal with,” I say. Poor old Billy. I could’ve won him over with a palm full of tuna. Why didn’t I think of that before?

We go back to Jamie’s place and watch TV for a while. He drives me home after
The Daily Show
and I know I’ve been wrong about lots of things lately but this time the air between us feels clear.

The lights are off inside my house but I hear the TV on in the basement. I follow the noise and find Brianna stretched out on the couch in pink pajamas. Her eyes are closed and the
The O.C.’
s on behind her. I’m about to reach for the remote and switch it off when she opens her eyes.

“I thought you were asleep,” I say. I’m too tired to fight with her and the anger’s gone anyway.

“Sort of.” Her voice is gravelly. “I think I’m going to stay down here tonight.”

I guess she’s pretty torn up about the cat but I don’t want to talk about that either. “It’s a comfortable couch,” I tell her. “I’ve slept down here lots of times.”

Brianna sucks in her cheeks as she sits up. “You know I wasn’t actually going to tell them anything.”

“They know now anyway.”

Brianna’s pupils bulge as she looks at me. “It was just seeing him in that box,” she says haltingly. “You shouldn’t have moved him.”

“I had to go. I told you that. I had a job interview. He was already
gone
.”

“I know.” The accusatory tone’s missing from her voice. “Your dad said you got the job.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” I glance impatiently at Mischa Barton and Benjamin McKenzie on the screen. I got the job and lost the girl. Does that mean I balance?

“I really wasn’t going to say anything,” Brianna repeats.

“It doesn’t make any difference anymore.” After saying goodbye to Colette and gorging on Chinese food I can’t get too excited about anything. My throat’s burning. I can’t tell if it’s indigestion or misery. “Just remember that next time, okay?” Brianna’s lips twitch like she’s on the verge of anger and I add, “I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Brianna. You’ll win every time.”

“You’ll win,” Brianna counters. “That’s the way you are.”

“Jesus, you can’t even stop fighting with me now.” I stare wearily at the ceiling. “Don’t you recognize a white flag flying in your face? Look, I’m sorry about Billy. I’m sorry I said you were fucked up and bitchy.” I fold my hands on top of my head and smooth down my hair. “If you want to keep this hostility up until we’re seventy I guess I can’t stop you. You’ll do what you want.
That’s the way you are
.”

“I don’t want to fight with you.” She snuggles back down into the couch. “I told you that before.”

The potential for debate is endless and I sigh in defeat.

Brianna rubs her eyes and adds, “If you liked Billy maybe you’d understand.”

“He didn’t like
me
,” I remind her. “I was ready to like him and he stabbed me in the hand.”

A crooked smile forces its way onto Brianna’s lips. I don’t have photographic evidence; you’ll just have to trust me on its existence because a moment later it’s gone. “Why does everybody have to like you all the time, anyway?” she asks.

This is the second time she’s said that and I chuckle miserably.
She has no idea what kind of night I’ve had. “Everybody doesn’t like me—and I don’t just mean you.”

Brianna doesn’t contradict me and tell me she likes me. She covers her lips with her hand and says, “I don’t have to like you—I just have to live with you.” She reaches for the remote and presses rewind, forcing the
O.C
. cast to zip through their story lines backwards in futility. “Why do you even care? Burke likes you. My mom likes you. My stupid friends like you.”

I pop my shoulders up, suddenly feeling like we’re trapped in a popularity contest. I don’t know how much of this is about Brianna being thirteen, like Nina says, and how much is her making a choice to dislike me because it’s one of the easiest things she can do right now. It could be something else entirely—I’m no TV psychologist—but I do feel bad about her losing Billy.

“You don’t have to like me,” I agree, taking a step away from the couch. “I’m really sorry about Billy. I know you guys had him a long time.”

Brianna hides her mouth behind her hand again so I can’t read her expression. “He really didn’t like very many people, you know. It’s not that he didn’t like you specifically.”

I bow my head at that and her eyes actually sparkle as she says, “I thought you knew karate. You should’ve been able to defend yourself against him.”

I never said anything about karate; Dad must’ve told her. “This is what I’m saying. That’s evidence that I’m a nice guy.” A half smile bites into my mouth because, as unlikely as it seems, now I know she’s capable of kidding around. “I never fought back.”

“Okay,” Brianna says resignedly. “Fine. You’re nice. You’re perfect. I’m the evil one.”

“I’m gonna remind you that you said that.”

“I know.” Brianna rolls her eyes but I guess we’re okay for the moment. It’s not the big make-up scene that Dad wanted but I have the feeling we’ll never get around to those.

“I’m going up,” I announce. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Brianna says. She’s already closed her eyes.

The house is deserted again when I wake up on Saturday morning. Dad’s left a note under my bedroom door explaining everything: Nina’s gone to the hairdresser with Brianna and he’s taken Burke to the doctor with hives. I don’t know anything about the hives, but considering my luck lately Burke’s probably allergic to tuna fish. Then Brianna can complain that I murdered her cat, attempted to poison her brother and, still more heinous, apologized to her afterwards, insisting that I was nice.
No wonder she doesn’t like me
.

Seriously, though, I’m not in a great frame of mind today. That breakup with Colette yesterday really happened. She wasn’t perfect but I’m already missing the flaws. Not that I want her back. Not really. Her Ari mania aches like a broken rib. I can’t handle it. The fact that I knew all along just makes it hurt worse.

Now that we’re over I don’t know what to do. It feels like subtracting her from my life changed everything, even the parts she didn’t touch. The reality of her absence mingles with a blistering awe at the fact that I was ever able to kiss her or sit next to her on her couch talking about everything from plot twists on
24
to reproductive rights. Every conversation and interaction between us is impossibly fresh in my mind and they shoot randomly out at me until my brain starts to hurt and I stumble out of my room and towards the bathroom. Then I shuffle around with a savage headache and do all the normal things that you usually don’t give a second thought.

After a while Dad comes home with Burke asleep in his arms. “We stopped off for his prescription on the way home,” he whispers, glancing at one of Burke’s arms. “I guess it’s working. You should’ve seen these babies first thing this morning.”

I check out the miniature bumps on Burke’s arms. “Do they know what it was?”

“No idea,” Dad says. “They say it could’ve been anything. Nina says he’s never had a reaction like this before.” He balances Burke’s weight as he steps towards the stairs. “He was scratching himself silly this morning. No other symptoms.”

Dad carries Burke up to bed and then tries to talk to me about last night. It’s exhausting enough having him in the house with me; I definitely don’t want to talk. To speed things up I race to the part of the conversation where I agree to do my best to get along with Brianna. Then I point out that she needs to do some major work in the congeniality department herself. Dad agrees and makes a comment about adjusting to the nuances of the estrogen contingent. Then he goes serious on me again and asks about Colette. I confirm that it’s over, expecting him to tell me that it’s for the best because she was too old for me. I watch his hands, waiting for the words to come out of his mouth. “Nina and I talked about it,” he says. “I expect that she’ll tell Andrea.”

I expect that too.

“I should check on Burke,” he says slowly. “Are you doing all right?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Better when I can keep my mouth shut. “It’s just not how I wanted things to go.”

Dad stares with uncertain eyes. “I know, Mason.” He gives my arm a squeeze, making me feel simultaneously better and worse, before walking away.

I go down to the basement and hide out with the lights off,
playing video games. I can’t remember the last time I did that. It must’ve been before Nina moved in.

After a bit I hear female voices upstairs but nobody disturbs me until hours later when Burke comes down with
Ice Age 3
. I tell him he can put on the DVD and he sticks both arms in my face, fascinated by his temporary affliction (although the only remaining trace of the hives is a couple of scratch marks). “The cream smells,” he says, pressing his nostrils into one arm.

Twenty minutes after that I’m asleep. When I wake up Dad’s yelling for me to get the phone. I mumble hello and Charlie Kady tells me his parents made a last-minute decision to go to some charity gala thing tonight and that his pool’s ready for the season so he’s inviting a bunch of people over to his place to swim or whatever (even Monica Gregory, who looks like a
Maxim
cover girl when she squeezes into a bikini). I can’t think of a good way to tell him no, so I say yes and spend most of the night on this half-broken deck chair next to Dustin.

Monica G doesn’t show, and Y and Z fight about something that I don’t have the energy to understand, while Jamie hangs out with my old
Supernatural
buddy, the Whole Foods girl’s best friend. Charlie barbecues regular hot dogs and these gourmet turkey burgers his girlfriend brought from work. The Black Eyed Peas blast out of speakers planted in the garden and everyone dances but I just want to escape. It’s an okay party; I’m the problem. I slip away without telling anyone and Y phones my cell as I’m walking home.

“Where are you?” she says impatiently. “Do you realize you’re MIA like last time? This is getting to be a habit with you.”

It’s nothing like last time. For one thing, I’m alone. “I’m walking home,” I explain. “I just wasn’t in the mood. I should’ve stayed home tonight.”

“Ohhh.” Y makes concerned noises into the phone. “I’m sorry I didn’t come over to talk to you earlier—I’ve been immersed in the Zoe drama—but I thought something was the matter with you. You’ve been quiet all night.”

“I’m okay,” I say. “What about you and Zoe? Everything all right?”

“Sometimes I think we’re too in tune with each other—if that makes any sense. The slightest ripple between us can set off a tidal wave … but this is about you. Do you want to come back? We can talk if you come back.”

“I don’t want to talk right now. But thanks. Honestly, I’m fine. The pool and all that was just a bit much.” Being unhappy at a party, surrounded by friends, is worse than being unhappy alone in my bedroom—or with a medicinal-smelling Burke watching
Ice Age 3
. I need to be someplace quiet.

“Are you sure?” Yolanda says sympathetically. “If you tell me where you are, Zoe can come get you.”

I’m glad she called but I don’t want to talk anymore, much less be dragged back to the party. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay, Yolanda? Tell everyone I got sick or something.”

I hang up and take my time walking home; the closer I get, the less I’m in the mood to be there either. Nina slings me a strained look as I pass the living room, like she’s been giving my involvement with Colette too much thought. “Mason,” she calls after me, “I left some paella in the fridge for you if you want it.”