The Lighter Side of Life and Death (3 page)

Dad has never stayed the night at a girlfriend’s house and
Nina’s no exception. He always comes home to sleep. “How was the party?” he asks, shrugging off his sports jacket.

“Fantastic,” I tell him. “Outstanding.”

Dad sits down on the couch next to me, his feet resting on the coffee table. “Nina couldn’t stop talking about the play.” His smile stretches into a yawn. “You know, I think this last performance was even better than the other night.”

“I think so too.” I nod like that’s exactly what I’ve been pondering alone here on the couch. Dad wouldn’t be angry if I told him about Kat. It’s not like I have to hide it or anything; I just don’t want to blab about it either. “You hungry?” I motion towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna make myself some eggs.”

Dad glances at his watch and then back at me, furrowing his eyebrows like he can’t make up his mind. “No thanks,” he replies finally. “I think I’ll just head up to bed.”

The funny thing is that neither of us moves. Maybe I’m too tired for eggs; I’m definitely too tired for small talk. We’re perfectly fine sitting there in silence.

Things were never this relaxed when my mother was around. She wasn’t happy unless she was in motion or the middle of a sentence. She hasn’t changed a bit since her and Dad split up five years ago but the fact that she’s across the country makes it easier to take. She has a boyfriend over there in Vancouver but spends most of her time obsessing over her newspaper column, which means the majority of our relationship happens over the phone.

For the first while after they broke up I missed her a lot. Then it was almost a relief. Breathing space, at last! I mean, there she was driving me back and forth to Toronto, taking me to all these modeling shoots, making me practice natural-looking smiles in the mirror. Sure, I thought I wanted to do it in the beginning. I was a kid. People paying that much attention to you seems like a
good thing, and my mother thrived on it. Dad, on the other hand, hated it from the start. It was the first thing he changed when they broke up.

Things have been pretty good with just the two of us these past few years. I don’t know what to expect when Nina, Brianna and Burke move in except that it’s bound to be noisier around here.

“Okay then,” Dad says, jerking his feet off the coffee table. “Past my bedtime.”

“Good night,” I tell him.

The minute he leaves the room I’m back to thinking about Kat, and the giddy feeling in my stomach tells me I’m nowhere close to finished. So okay, it’s time to make eggs after all. I can scramble eggs and think about Kat Medina at the same time.

So far, as life experiences go, the best thing that’s happened to me is tonight with Kat. Remembering the event comes in second. Third? The play, of course. Carrying Chris Keller around with me in my bones. It’s almost too many incredible things for one night. I’m buzzing like a madman.

It’s nearly twelve-thirty when I roll out of bed the next day. Dad’s lying on the living room couch with his nose in the paper and a mug of decaf on the table next to him. “Lynn called to ask you about the play,” he says, glancing at me over the top of the business section. “She didn’t want me to wake you.” Lynn’s my mother but in most ways she feels more like a cousin. She’s way more interested in what I’m doing when it intersects with her idea of cool.

“Okay,” I croak. My voice hasn’t woken up yet. My neck’s stiff too but inside I’m dancing. “I’ll call her back later.”

“That’s what I told her,” Dad says. There are no hard feelings between my parents anymore. They communicate with each other
like neutral strangers, like you’d deal with a waiter or the person who hands over your dry cleaning.

“Great,” I tell him. Right now Lynn’s at the bottom of my list. I head into the kitchen, chow down on waffles, shower and then call Kat’s cell. I don’t have a special speech planned or anything. I’m hoping instinct will take over like it did last night. Really, I just can’t wait to hear her voice. The only thing wrong with last night was the way it ended. We never had a chance to talk.

Like I said, I don’t have a speech planned. I’m totally unprepared when I hear the beep. “Uh, I guess you’re not, uh, in the vicinity of your cell,” I stammer. “I’ll give you a call on your home phone. Talk to you soon.” The anticipation sharpens as I punch in her home number. What do you say to someone you shared such a perfect moment with? What if she suddenly remembers my stupid comment about being heavy?

“Hello, Mason,” Mrs. Medina says curtly. Ah, the joys of call display. I’ve been calling Kat’s house for the past three years. This is the first time I’ve found myself wishing I could be anonymous. After all, I don’t know what, if anything, her parents have heard about last night. “Kat’s at Sondra’s house,” Mrs. Medina continues. “You can try her cell phone.”

Deep breath of relief. Her parents obviously don’t know anything. “Thanks,” I say quickly. “No message.”

No doubt Kat will pick up my original message any minute now and dial me back. I dig my cell out of yesterday’s jeans and plant it on top of my CD rack.
It won’t be long
, I think. Not unless she’s doing something hugely important. More important than last night? What could be more important than last night?

Yeah, so I’m getting a little antsy waiting. Am I taking this too seriously? Is it possible she wants to treat this casual? But then why make Hugo wait?

Forget it. I’m not doing this. I’m going out.

I call Jamie but the phone rings forever. His parents must be the only people in Glenashton who don’t own an answering machine. They won’t let Jamie have a cell phone either. They’re the kind of people who’re always complaining about technology ruining lives but at the same time wouldn’t think of depriving their kid of a computer because it’d put his/her education at a disadvantage. Normally at this point I’d IM Jamie, just in case he’s around, but the moment I turn to do it, I realize I don’t want to talk to him anyway. This is a guy whose mother gives me a hug on my birthday like I’m part of the family. When Jamie’s grandfather was dying two and a half years ago, his parents went up north to be with him at the end but Jamie (except for a short visit to his grandfather’s because his folks thought anything more would be too tough on him) stayed with us. I remember how quiet he got after his father called to tell him it was all over. And I remember breaking my thumb on the seventh-grade ski trip and how Jamie kept making me laugh through the pain, all the way down the mountain. The point is, if last night involved anyone but Kat he’d probably be the one person I’d tell. Since it
was
her I can’t say a word until I know what’s going on between us, but talking about anything else will be a lie of omission.

Because of the play I’m in touch with a zillion people and I keep dialing until I catch someone at home. That person’s Dustin, and I go over to his house and listen to him riff about how awesome the party was and why did Kat and I take off early, anyway? I tell him I’m not at liberty to talk about it, which makes me sound like a crooked politician. Dustin says his head feels like a bowling ball on account of all last night’s beer and that he doesn’t want to do much except maybe go to the video store and pick up some movies. So that’s what we do, but it’s not enough to stop me
thinking, and as soon as I get home I ask Dad if there were any calls for me.

“Just Lynn this morning,” he replies. “Did you forget to bring your phone with you?”

I’m always forgetting my phone. I’ve left it in my locker, the public library, Nina’s car, assorted people’s houses, the counter at Burger King. But not today. It’s been in my pocket, eating up battery power all day long.

Kat never called.

Y and Z
stop me in the hall first thing Monday morning. They’re all smiley and touchy-feely with each other. Normally it’s a contagious kind of happy, unless you’re part of the Neanderthal redneck crew that can’t stand to see two girls together. As it is, I fake a smile and compliment them on the party.

“But where’d you cut out to so early?” Zoe asks. “Kat’s brother was fuming. I mean, he was cool with us and all but you could see he was totally pissed with her being AWOL.”

Is it me or is everyone I know exceptionally nosy? “There was some personal stuff going on with Kat,” I explain. “She just needed to get away from the party. We walked around….”

Yolanda nods at my vagueness. “I’ve heard some stuff going around about Hugo.”

“Yeah, well …” I ease my knapsack off my shoulder and lower it to the ground. “I never meant to cut out. It was a great party. I heard Miracle stayed to the end.” Dustin told me that last night.

“Actually, she stayed even later and helped us clean up,” Zoe says, glancing over my shoulder.

I swing around and catch sight of Jamie approaching. He’s staring straight at the three of us and tense vibes spring out in our direction as he nears. “Hey, Jamie,” Yolanda and Zoe sing.

“Hey.” Jamie stops next to us, but it’s all for Y’s and Z’s benefit. He’s giving me the cold shoulder, angling his body away from me just enough to make the point.

“So how was the rest of your weekend?” I ask. Jamie’s bad energy’s making me extra-aware of everything I’ve failed to tell him, but whatever’s eating him just isn’t a priority at the moment. I’ve got the whole Kat mystery to unravel.

“All right,” he says indifferently. “Would’ve been nice if you’d checked in on Saturday night.”

I shoot Jamie an incredulous look. It’s like him to worry about his friends but this is too much, even for him. My own father doesn’t even ask me to check in on Saturday nights.

Y and Z exchange a coded gaze, say they’ll catch up with us later and push on through the hall. Jamie turns expectantly towards me like he’s waiting for an explanation. The look pisses me off, kicking my edginess up a notch. So far Monday sucks.

“I didn’t know I needed to check in,” I tell him. “What’s the big deal?”

“I was looking around for Kat’s purse for ages like an idiot,” he fumes. “And it turns out you guys weren’t even there. How am I supposed to know where you went? Her brother shows up looking for her and I don’t know shit but I’m holding her frigging purse.”

Who cares about the damn purse? “She needed to get away after the Hugo incident,” I say. “You saw how she was. I didn’t even want to leave. It was her idea. What was I supposed to tell her?” Now he’s got me outright lying about the best night of my life.
That’s not right; it’s not something I want to make excuses for. “You’re not responsible for me or Kat, Jamie. Relax.”

Jamie’s nostrils flare. His cheeks redden as he looks me in the eye. “I would’ve said something to you if I was leaving. You could’ve at least mentioned it, you know?”

Maybe. I don’t know. I’m confused. All I know is I don’t want to apologize. On the other hand, I hate arguing with Jamie. Shit, I can’t stand arguing with anyone unless I hate their guts, know that I’m never going to see them again or can be reasonably sure they’ll get over it within a matter of hours.

“Whatever.” I swipe my knapsack from the floor and slip it over one shoulder. “I gotta get to my locker. I’ll see you in law later, okay?”

Jamie turns and stalks off. Just like that. I swear under my breath and head for my locker. Next stop is homeroom and then on to double English. We’re discussing
Nine Stories
by Salinger and I’ve read most of them but I can’t concentrate. Kat’s in my Twentieth-Century History class next period and that’s pretty much all I can think about. My mind keeps yo-yoing back and forth between awesome Saturday-night memories and the meaning behind the phone call I never got.

The instant the bell rings I’m sprinting upstairs to history like a superhero on meth. Of course, if I looked like a superhero I wouldn’t have this problem. If I was the six-foot-two, six-pack type, Kat would’ve hooked up with me ages ago. Not that there’s anything wrong with me; I just happen to be on the skinny side and not very tall. The thing is, lots of girls don’t care about that. I know that firsthand. Kat’s the only girl I’ve slept with but there were a few different firsts before that. Never a serious girlfriend, but some memorable experiences.

Like this girl Brooklyn I met while I was visiting my mother in
Vancouver after Christmas. Yeah, Brooklyn of Vancouver—sounds like an indie movie title but she’s a real girl with exceptionally green eyes and a thing for tennis. Her parents’ apartment is just around the block from Lynn’s and we hung out a little. Somehow, on one of those occasions, her sports bra got mixed in with my dirty clothes and I ended up flying two-thousand-plus miles home with it in my suitcase.

I pass Mr. Echler, my (and Kat’s) history teacher, in the hall. He looks like Jesus (if you can picture Jesus in pleated dress pants) but his annoying nasal voice ruins the effect. Whatever he says just wears you out. Anyway, Echler’s got a serious Monday-morning drag in his step and I rush past him and into class where two girls are already seated. Perfect. No sign of Kat yet. I back out of the room and stand outside the door like a bouncer.

A minute later I see her. Kat’s hair is pushed back behind one ear and her expression’s blank. She catches sight of me as I’m looking her over and I fold my arms in front of me and try to appear casual. Whatever she says isn’t going to faze me; I just need to know what’s going on.

“Hi, Mason,” she says, edging quickly past me. She turns to look at me from the safety of the classroom and my brain stutters. What. Is. Happening. Here? Can’t we even talk about it?

I follow Kat into class and sit down next to her, in my usual seat. And I thought English was bad. Shit. This is insane. I keep glancing over at her, fidgety as hell, images of her naked body plastering my mind. I mean, I know what her breasts look like. I know what
everything
looks like. What it feels like, even. X-rated slides zip through my head, even as the muted real-life Kat refuses to look at me. Jesus. Maybe this would be easier if we weren’t such good friends before.

The thing is, she can’t avoid me forever. We usually sit together
at lunch. We’ve been doing that on and off for years. Jamie too. And Kat’s girls, Michelle Suazo and Sondra. The group expanded to a dozen when Jamie and I started working on the play in January. It’s a bit of a mishmash, this trio of cute Filipino girls and assorted members of the
All My Sons
cast and stage crew, but it works. Most of us are so tight now that it’s hard to believe that I barely knew some of these people before January.