Vegan Virgin Valentine (16 page)

After Pauline hung up on me, I’d called James at Common Grounds. I was crying so hard, I could barely talk. But I didn’t have to explain because he’d just gotten Claudia’s e-mail of resignation. He asked if I wanted to meet him somewhere or go to his apartment. I couldn’t do anything but sob into the phone. James asked if my parents were home and I choked out a no and he said he was on his way over. Five minutes later, he pulled in the driveway. As I climbed into the passenger seat of his car, he hugged me and rubbed my back until I stopped crying.

“Do you think I’m horrible?” I asked, wiping my cheeks.

James picked up my hand, kissing one finger at a time. “You’re not horrible, Mara. You could never be horrible. Maybe we should have talked to Claudia, let her know we were together, but you were just trying to protect her from getting hurt.”

“I went behind her back and then I lied to her.”

“But don’t you think she knew? Don’t you think she sensed something was going on? She
drove
into my parking lot.”

“But I stole you from her.”

“It’s not like we were together and I cheated on her with you.”

“But she liked you and I’m her friend and friends don’t do things like that.”

“But Claudia could have been a better friend to you, too. She must have known on some level that I wasn’t interested in her in that way. So if she sensed that you and I liked each other, she shouldn’t have held you back from being with me. That’s not fair. You can’t stand in the way of love.”

He said it.

For the first time in the History of Mara and James, someone said it. I looked at James and he looked at me and we sat there, holding hands and looking at each other. And suddenly it felt like despite Claudia and despite our age difference and despite me going away to Yale and despite all the cards that were stacked against us, we were meant to be together.

At the end of the play, the audience gave the cast a standing ovation. When V curtsied, she got thundering applause. As the curtain lowered for the final time, my parents and I headed backstage to bring V the massive bouquet of white roses that my mom had ordered from Arjuna Florist.

V was surrounded by ogling freshmen guys, but we cut through the throng and hugged her and told her what a great job she did. Her eyes got teary as she thanked us for sticking by her and encouraging her to go for it.

My dad snapped pictures of V with members of the cast. My mom chatted with Lindsey’s aunt. I scanned the faces backstage to see who I knew, waving at various kids. And then I turned my head and saw Dr. Hendrick.

He was standing about fifteen feet from me, shaking hands with Mr. B. I was tempted to walk over and tell him off once and for all. I wanted to say that he shouldn’t have dissed me at that play rehearsal, and it was the best thing I’d ever done to drop his stupid class.

But then I remembered how he’d choreographed all of V’s dances and had really helped her shine. As I thought about that, I didn’t feel as angry at him. It wasn’t about me right now. What mattered was V. This was her moment.

Once V had scrubbed her face with cold cream and changed into jeans and signed the programs of three wide-eyed middle schoolers, we piled into Keith’s car and drove up to Friendly’s. Most of the cast was already there, several of them still decked out in their poodle skirts and baseball uniforms. They all waved V toward their tables, but she gestured that she was going to sit with us.

We settled into a booth, Bethany and Keith on one side, V and me on the other side. We chatted about who forgot a line and who tripped onstage and who surprised us with their hidden talent. Keith didn’t say much, just little comments now and then. But you could tell he was sweet, the way he kept gazing at Bethany and stroking her arm.

When the waitress came over, Bethany ordered mint-chip ice cream with extra hot fudge. Keith ordered onion rings and a Coke. V ordered a malted milkshake. I was about to order my usual, raspberry sorbet, when I glanced down at the menu and said, “I’d like a grilled-cheese sandwich.”

“Cheddar or Swiss?” the waitress asked.

“Can I get both?”

The waitress scribbled something on her pad and took our menus. As she headed toward the kitchen, V gaped at me. “Am I crazy or did you just order an animal byproduct?”

“I guess I’m craving cheese.”

“Next thing you know, you’ll be craving hamburgers,” V said. “The late, great vegan eating juicy burgers.”

That’s the kind of thing that used to piss me off about V, but it didn’t bother me now. I could tell she was just kidding around.

“Mmmmm,”
I said, licking my lips, “with crispy bacon on top.”

“Are you
serious
?” V asked. “You’re really craving
bacon
?”

I shook my head. “Gotcha!”

“Ha! You totally had me there.”

Bethany and Keith were staring at us like they had no idea what we were talking about.

“You guys,” Bethany finally said, “are
so incredibly
related.”

V smiled at me. I smiled back at her, thinking how I didn’t take that as an insult, not even for a second.

My parents decided to take V to New York City to see a Broadway musical. Partially, it was because they were proud of her performance as Lola, so they wanted to do something special for her. And partially because there was a teachers’ conference on a Monday at the end of April, so school was closed for a long weekend. And partially because their friend, Mike Shreves, was having a birthday bash in Manhattan that Saturday night, so my parents said it would be a good excuse to go.

But I know my parents well enough to know that there are
always
hidden motives, especially in the spring of junior year. Lo and behold, my parents did not disappoint. Once V had said yes and my mom had purchased three tickets to
Hairspray,
they mentioned that, hey, it couldn’t hurt to go on a tour of NYU. After all, they have Tisch School of the Arts, which is one of the most prestigious undergraduate acting programs in the country. And then, a few days later, they said that rather than flying down on JetBlue, why don’t they take off Friday as well and drive to the city? The weather is mild and, besides, they can meander by Hamilton and Bard and Colgate on the way back and check out the campuses.

I’d been invited to join them, but I said that my statistics final was coming up and senior-class council was consuming the rest of my time as prom preparations kicked into high gear.

LIE! LIE! LIE!

My Big and Illicit Reason for not going was that I wanted to spend the night with James. Over the past few weeks, things were really heating up with us. We’d started fooling around on his bed, and he’d been touching inside my bra and sometimes even kissing there. One time, when he was doing that, I pulled up his T-shirt, too, and pressed my chest against his chest. That felt so good that whenever I thought about it, I’d smile uncontrollably, even if I was sitting in physics or pushing back my cuticles or waiting at a stoplight.

But despite all of this, I felt like there was this constant time pressure with James and me. We had an hour, a half hour, my cell phone might ring, he had to be back at Common Grounds. We always had to be ready to wash our faces and gather our hair into ponytails and think of an excuse for where I was.

So when my parents mentioned leaving town and taking V with them, it was like a light-bulb-over-the-head solution. I talked about it with James and we came to the conclusion that I couldn’t sleep at his apartment because my parents might call our house late at night to make sure I’m there. But we
could
pull off having James sleep at my place. If my parents called, I could just be like,
Sure, don’t worry about me, everything’s fine.

And so, on Friday morning, I helped them load the car with munchies and maps and dressy clothing in dry-cleaner bags. As my mom backed down the driveway, my dad told me to leave my cell phone on and always lock the doors.

“I will,” I said.

V leaned out her window. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

I considered that for a second. There’s probably not much that V wouldn’t do, so I waved and shouted, “I won’t!”

They all waved back and my mom drove down our street. I watched as the Yale bumper sticker got farther and farther away and then was out of sight.

As it turned out, James had to go to Schenectady on Friday night for his grandmother’s ninetieth birthday party. It’s a four-hour drive, so he was going to sleep over and return the following afternoon. That evening, I went to a movie with Bethany and Lindsey, got home by ten-thirty, called my parents, and then went to bed. As I lay under my covers, I couldn’t stop thinking about how James was going to sleep over the next night. I ran my hand over my hips, slipping my fingers inside the elastic band of my underwear. Sometimes, when James and I are kissing and I’m pressing my body against him, I have this urge for him to touch me down there.

I was restless the whole next day. I spent forty-five minutes distractedly flipping through the Johns Hopkins course catalog. Even though I don’t have to register for my summer classes until the end of May, my parents keep bugging me to do it sooner rather than later so I can be sure to get my first choices. But I can’t seem to figure out what I want to take. Whenever I think about this summer, I think how I’d rather be spending my last two months before college with James, not pressure-cooking in some classroom in Baltimore.

I set the course catalog aside and sent some e-mails to various members of the senior-class council about the prom budget. I mined the cupboards for snack foods and left a message with Bethany and opened and closed
Elementary Statistics.
I took a shower and shaved my legs. I rubbed my mom’s expensive skin cream all over my body. I resisted squeezing a few blackheads on my chin because I didn’t want them to be swollen that night.

Finally, I put on my sneakers and walked to the canal. I made a serious attempt along the way to appreciate the yellow daffodils and newly budding trees. But all I could think about was that James would be back in a few hours, we’d work together at Common Grounds, he’d come over to my house, and then…

OH. MY. FREAKING. GOD.

James and I would sleep in the same bed tonight!

That evening, James and I kept smiling at each other and bumping hips and drawing hearts on receipt tape. It didn’t help that he wore his faded jeans with the hole in the thigh. And it didn’t help that it was warm and balmy, a perfect spring night. And it didn’t help that my co-worker Josh kept singing “Love Is in the Air.”

After Claudia quit, James reorganized the schedule to cover her shifts. He decided to separate Josh and Randy, since the two of them together upped the loud ante to a near-deafening pitch. When Josh joined my shifts, we didn’t overtly tell him we were together, but we didn’t hide our affection either, so he’d pretty much guessed it by now.

But Josh was right about Saturday night. There was definitely a feeling in the air, some blend of love and excitement and anticipation.

Things got even more exciting as the evening progressed. The chubby older woman/skinny younger guy were sitting at their regular table, drinking their regular decaf cappuccinos and sharing their regular piece of blueberry cheesecake. They’ve been in here almost every weekend since January, when Claudia and I presumed they met on the Internet. They’re always nuzzling and holding hands. I used to think they were a bizarre mismatch, how she’s practically double his age and he’s practically half her size. But over the past few months, I’ve gotten used to them.

Around nine-thirty, I was unloading mugs from the dishwasher. James was filling a jar with chocolate-covered espresso beans. Josh was singing, “Love is in the air, love is in the air, oh, oh, oh, oh, uh, uh, uh, uh…”

Just as Josh hit his last “uh” and I stacked my last mug, the skinny guy rose out of his chair, knelt down on one knee, and held out a little jewelry box. The woman slowly set down her forkful of cheesecake. I tapped James’s elbow and pointed in their direction. As soon as he realized what was happening, he turned to Josh and said,
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Everyone in Common Grounds was staring at them. The guy was still kneeling. The woman nodded as she looked into the now-open box. He slipped the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand and they started hugging and kissing. Everyone applauded. I could feel myself tearing up.

“SEE???” Josh shouted, stretching his arms out to either side. “LOVE IS IN THE AIR!”

James clapped his hands together and made an announcement that decaf cappuccinos and slices of blueberry cheesecake were on the house.

More applause.

As I began making cappuccinos and Josh, who had resumed his singing, served up the cheesecake, I got this sad feeling in my throat. I was thinking about Claudia and how, when the now-engaged couple first came into Common Grounds, I’d joked that the woman wanted a “bling-bling on her fing-fing.” Claudia would have gotten a kick out of being here tonight and seeing my prediction come true.

Once the line of freebie-seekers eased up, I told James I was taking a quick break. I stepped onto the sidewalk and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I clicked through until I got to Claudia’s number.

Unfortunately, Pauline answered.

“Is Claudia there?” I asked.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“It’s Mara.”

“Mara from Common Grounds?”

“Yeah.”

Pauline cleared her throat. “I thought you understood that Claudia doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“But I thought—”

“Don’t you know about Pavlov’s dogs?”

“What?” I asked. “Whose dogs?”

“Pavlov’s. It was a psychological experiment where the dogs’ mouths salivated whenever Pavlov rang a bell because they thought they were going to get fed.”

“I’m not sure what this has to do with—”

“That’s called a ‘conditioned response,’” Pauline said. “And you should be conditioned to know that if you ring here, guess what response you’re going to get?”

“What?”

“Goodbye,” Pauline said, hanging up.