This Is What I Want to Tell You (4 page)

Jessica called and said Parker had told her brother to call me and Jessica and invite us to some party in the city.

Just wear something sexy, Jessica told me.

I had no idea what that was. I stared at my closet. I tried to think what she would wear. Finally, I wore jeans and a black T-shirt. The T-shirt was old. It was Lace’s and faded thin and sort of sheer-looking in the right light.

When we arrived at the house, it was spilling people onto the crooked front porch and the dead, brown lawn. It wasn’t even Parker’s house. Jessica thought maybe it was someone he worked with. There were people everywhere—people in thick-soled boots and white tank tops and stringy black hair and dirty jeans and tattoos. There was smoke sitting in the hallways and music from rooms, slow and mourning from one doorway and fast and sad from another door. Even Jessica seemed a little bit nervous. We finally found Parker and her brother sitting in a bedroom. There was a twin bed and some pillows on the floor, and Parker was sitting next to a girl who was wearing a shirt with a belt over it and high red boots, and her legs were white and long and looked like bones. I stared at her.

Hey, he said. He got up and hugged Jessica and then me. But then he gestured to me.

Sit down.

I did. Jessica sat next to her brother’s friend Tommy on the bed.

So. Parker looked at me. You made it.

Yeah, I said.

Everyone was quiet for a long time.

Parker, the girl with red boots said.

He turned to look at her. Then he looked down at his hand.

Oh, you want some? he said to me.

Um. Okay.

The girl rolled her eyes.

I took the joint from his fingers, touching the coarse skin of his thumb. I took a hit and held it in, my throat burned but I held the cough deep in my chest. I took another hit. My eyes watered. I pretended I was sneezing, coughing into my hand. I handed the joint back to Parker.

We were alone in the room and the lights seemed to be swimming at the ceiling above a curtain of smoke. I didn’t know where everyone had gone. Parker was watching me smoke the cigarette he’d just given me. I ashed it toward a green bottle, missing and scattering ashes on the carpet. His eyes on me felt like pins and needles. I wanted to touch him.

Do you go to school? I asked instead.

He shook his head.

No. I graduated two years ago.

College?

He laughed.

I graduated high school.

Oh.

I cook in a restaurant.

This sounded glamorous to me, the idea of him cooking. I thought of the fire tattoo on his hand.

You like it?

Oh, man. Suddenly his eyes shifted. I started washing dishes when I was a kid. But I loved being in the kitchen. People don’t realize it’s art, making good food. It’s seriously art. I’m gonna have my own place one day … it’s not gonna be this shit mango salsa on everything. It’s gonna be food no one has ever even had before … His voice trailed off. He stared at a spot on the wall over my head. I watched him. It was quiet.

I’ve been reading this book, he finally said.

Yeah?

Yeah. I mean, it says “man is something that shall be overcome.” It basically says … I mean, the thing is, we all try to find something we want to live for and succeed in but the real fucking bottom line is—he stops and looks at me. I like you, Noelle, he says.

Thanks.

My head is spinning. Literally, like I am twisting around and around the room.

He takes the cigarette from my hand and drops it into the bottle. He leans into my ear and whispers.

And it’s really hard for me to talk about food and work when all I want to do is kiss you.

Okay, I say.

I turn, my nose brushes against his cheek, and then he’s kissing me and seriously my whole body is burning and out of breath all at once. I close my eyes but I can still see the light suspended at the ceiling and I’m sinking into the cushions and floating underneath him at the same time.

My sister was busy doing something none of us knew about. In the first few weeks of school it became clear she had something else going on. I was barely alone with Keeley once in those first weeks but it was like Noelle started moving away from us even before we started moving together.

It really had been easy to be the three of us. Keeley and Noelle were pretty much attached. Their voices came out in unison—a sentence started with one of them and finished with the other. They never considered a move without each other. And Keeley understood about Noelle and me. People get freaked out by the twin thing, or they get really curious, but Noelle and I just always preferred to be near each other without saying much. I was never one for saying much. And she knew what I was thinking anyway. But even before Keeley left for Oxford, I noticed Noelle pulling back. I’m not sure she even noticed it, but I did.

She doesn’t even care about the things she gets, she said about Keeley after helping her pack. It’s like she gets to travel all over the world and she just, she resents it. Noelle’s face was tight when she said this. She has no idea about how lucky she is, she said and walked away and I heard her door slam. I doubt she even realized I was a part of her monologue. I felt her jealousy even through the walls.

That jealousy got fierce after school started. It was quiet, too.

On Friday night, Keeley knocked on the screen door. I was sitting at the kitchen table with HDT. Lace was in her room. Noelle was somewhere.

Hi, Keeley said through the screen.

I looked up. I actually thought about what I was wearing and wished I hadn’t changed into sweatpants after school.

Hey, I said.

Can I come in?

Yeah, of course. I stood up. Noelle’s not here.

Oh.

Do you want some tea?

She giggled. I felt like an asshole again.

Do you wanna go for a walk? she asked.

Yeah. I practically tossed the book across the room. Lemme just run up and get some shoes …

I took the stairs two at a time. I pulled on jeans and shoved my feet into sneakers.

I’m going for a walk, I called to Lace. I heard a murmured response. The thing about Lace, she certainly never imposed strict rules. Be safe, she said. Call me if you’re sleeping out, she said. Never, ever, turn your cell phone off. She wanted us to be safe, to tell her anything, and she wanted to be able to reach us. Period.

Keeley was standing on the porch, her back to me. I walked up behind her. Without even looking she reached her hand back and waved it around until she held mine.

Keeley Shipley was holding my hand.

We started walking. Finally she looked over at me.

You know, you’re the only person I want to be around since I came back.

I just kept staring at her. Was she always this beautiful? Did I never notice?

Nadio. It’s weird, right?

I blinked my eyes back into focus. I squeezed her hand. I stopped walking.

Yeah, I said. It’s weird. I think about you pretty much all the time.

I brought my hands up to the curve of her jaw. I leaned in and kissed her. I felt her hands in the belt loops of my jeans, pulling me closer. We kissed for a minute, three hours, I don’t know. Keeley finally pulled back, reaching up and pushing my hair off of my forehead.

God, I wish we’d figured this out years ago. She laughed, but her eyes were jumpy. Her laugh sounded like she was pushing it out of her.

Me too, I said.

Let’s sit. Keeley pointed. We had walked up the driveway alongside the orchard and we were near her house. There were a few Adirondack chairs sitting around an old fire pit. I sat down. Keeley climbed onto my lap, tossing her legs over the arm of the chair.

Let’s talk about something that’s not Noelle, that’s not how weird this is, she said.

Okay, but—

I put my hand on the small of her back. It was hard for me to breathe, her sitting like this, her arm around my neck.

I might not be able to concentrate, I said.

She laughed again. That laugh was nervous and confident all at once—giggling and all-knowing.

Nadio, did you ever have a girlfriend?

I thought about last spring, volunteering at the St. Francis soup kitchen. Molly from the college. From the first day she started working there she’d put her hand on my arm every time she said anything and laugh really close to my neck. Then she started pulling me into the dry goods supply closet and tugging my jeans down. Molly wore tight T-shirts and miniskirts and she was very sure of everything.

I silently thanked Molly for the supply-closet hours.

No, I said. Not really.

I didn’t need to tell Keeley about Molly. She wasn’t really my girlfriend. Besides, this summer she’d transferred to somewhere out west. On her last day, as she was pulling her T-shirt back on over her head, she smoothed it over her stomach and rested her hand on my arm. Well, Nadio, she said. This has been awesome. She giggled. I hope you find a real sweet girlfriend and I know you’ll make her happy.

And that was that.

Why not? Keeley asked.

I don’t know, I said. I guess no one ever—before now, I never thought anyone was really—

Worth it? Keeley asked.

I guess. What about you?

Keeley shivered.

You know, she said, the truth is, I don’t think anyone ever noticed me.

What about this summer? I asked. I knew that, now, Keeley couldn’t go anywhere unnoticed. Did you meet anyone?

Keeley’s fingertips stopped scratching the back of my neck. I felt them rest, tense and cold, at my hairline.

You know what Nadio? I’m gonna be honest. I don’t wanna talk about this summer.

The air felt heavy. We sat in silence. Keeley’s whole body was like a knot.

Let’s talk about good old Henry David Thoreau. I saw what you were reading, she finally said.

Yeah?

Love him.

You do?

Sure, Keeley said. My parents used to read the Transcendentalists out loud to me. You know, they’ve always been really good at understanding kids. Her voice was dry and heavy when she said this—somewhere between sarcastic and truth.

I can see why you were always at our house, I said.

She leaned down and kissed me again.

It’s my dad’s book, I said when we pulled apart. I don’t know why I told her that.

Keeley stared at me.

Neither one of you has ever even said the word dad in my presence.

Yeah, I said. It was Dario’s book.

It’s possible I could drop out of school, I thought. Not that it was actually something I’d do. But I was almost sixteen, and I can’t be here, I thought. It was like my body was physically resistant to the curve of the plastic Chem-class chair. My mind was certainly resistant to Mr. Donohoe’s droning lectures, which came to me through a curtain of static. I looked around. Two people were sleeping. Mark Hoolihan and Louis Dayton were doing a crossword puzzle. Mr. Donohoe was drawing something on the board, gesturing at us.

I’ll never make it.