Who's Your Daddy? (15 page)

His surprise turned into bewilderment. “Trails?”

I frowned slightly. It was my turn to be confused. “Well … yeah. I thought we were going hiking.” I peered past him. “Where are Shefka and Jenita? Are they ready?”

“Ready? For … did you say hiking?”

“Um … yeah.” Why was he acting so spacey?

He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “But what about the TRLs?”

“That’s what I mean.”

His expression relaxed. “Oh. Good. I have the VCR all set up and Shefka is making popcorn with Jenita.”

“Ismet, you’re not making sense. What about hiking on the old trails your friend told you about?”

“Huh?”

For a moment, we both stood there staring at each other, then my heart started to pound out a dull warning thud in my chest. Oh, God. Clearly we’d had some sort of communication breakdown, and I had a feeling it was all on my part and I was about to be really embarrassed.

Ismet scratched his head and sort of squinted his eyes apologetically at me. “Meryl, I am thinking we are talking about different things.”

“Yeah, I …” I shook my head. “… I may have misunderstood you, I guess.”

“Come on in.” He stepped aside.

I walked into the house, unzipping my coat and pulling off my hat and gloves. I was hot from being overdressed, but also from feeling like an idiot. I didn’t
have access to a mirror, but I could bet my complexion was that hideous blotchy red.

“So, I don’t know what you are talking about with the hiking, but I have borrowed tapes of some of the best TRL episodes. You know, from MTV?” He waited. I made no acknowledgment. “So … I thought we could all watch them.” He gave me a funny smile, almost as if he were on the brink of laughing at me. “What did you think I was talking about?”

Television. I should’ve known.

TRLs wasn’t an abbreviation for trails. It was … something else about which I had NO clue.

I stood there, suffocating on my own mortification, and realized it was the first time in more than a decade that I felt ashamed for the way my family and I lived. That, in turn, made me feel AWFUL. I was humiliated by my own cluelessness, though, and I really, really didn’t want Ismet to think I was strange. Then I felt guilty for even WORRYING that someone—anyone—would disagree with my lifestyle or make fun of me for it. That wasn’t ME. I felt like a sellout of the worst kind.

While my mind continued to race, I opened my
mouth to say something, although I didn’t know what. Nothing came out.

Just then, Shefka rounded the corner. “
Hola
, Meryl!”

“Hi,” I said, sounding sort of dazed and out of breath. I even forgot to answer her in Spanish, which was our usual pattern in order to practice conversation skills.

Jenita bounded into the room and threw her arms around me. “Meryl, you are here!”

I didn’t even hug poor little Jenita back or reply to her. I was too stunned still.

Sheika’s smile faded as Jenita pulled away and looked up at me with big troubled eyes.

“Are you okay?” Shefka asked.

My throat tightened. To my horror, I felt dangerously close to bursting into tears. I shook my head. My voice quavered slightly when I said, “I … I just remembered something I was supposed to do for my mom.” I flipped my hand over sort of helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait. You have to leave?” Ismet asked, seeming more baffled than ever. “What about the shows?”

“Don’t go, Meryl!” Jenita cried.

I started backing toward the door, because I was
afraid I might lose it right then and there. It was such a strange reaction for me. If this was what it meant to have a crush on a guy, then count me out. “I don’t know. I have to … I’m sorry.”

“Jenita, come here.” Shefka said, in a low tone. The little girl obeyed. “Don’t worry, Meryl,” Shefka added, looking like she might understand more than she was letting on. I mean, she’d been to my house once. Maybe she’d noticed the distinct lack of televisions and had put two and two together. Probably not. I didn’t know!

I think she had an idea that I had a crush on her brother, though, and surely she knew it wasn’t reciprocated. I had no way of really knowing what was going through Sheika’s mind, to be honest, and I didn’t have the stomach to stand around any longer and speculate. I couldn’t handle the prospect of seeing pity on any of their faces.

Jenita buried her face in the side of her big sister’s sweater. I hated that I might have scared or hurt her, but it couldn’t be helped.

“I’m sorry for the mix-up about the plans,” Ismet said, his voice sort of uncertain.

“No. It’s okay. M-my fault. I’ll … see you both at school. Bye, Jenita.”

Before any of them could say anything more, I turned heel and ran like a frightened rabbit. It’s not that I was afraid that a little television watching would reach inside me and suck my brain out. I just choose to live without it, and I didn’t want to compromise my convictions. I mean, Caressa and Lila and I did fine together without ever having turned on the television. If they wanted to watch something special, it was simply understood that they didn’t invite me, and I was completely okay with that.

Somehow, though, thanks to my embarrassment, I hadn’t been able to stand up for my beliefs and choices in front of Ismet, which made me feel weak and fraudulent. Did I really care what he, or any guy, thought? And how did I even know
how
he would’ve reacted? Maybe it wouldn’t have even been a big deal. I bit my lip as I drove away, smearing away the tears that ran freely down my face and blurred my vision. I didn’t have answers to my own questions.

I mean, what girl in her right mind would set herself up to be rejected by her number-one crush? Then again, who wants to pretend to be someone she’s not just to snare a guy? GOD! It was all so confusing. The more I
knew about this dating stuff, the more I wanted to go live in a cave with dogs.

When I got home, I raced up to my computer and emailed Lila and Caressa:

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected], [email protected]

SUBJECT: S.O.S—LIFE SUCKS!!!!!!!

TIME: 3:48:14
P.M.
, MST

I am having the WORST DAY IN THE WORLD!!!!!!!!! I just made a fool of myself in front of Ismet. UGH UGH! I don’t want to talk about it yet, but just tell me this: what the hell is TRL????

Meryl

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected], [email protected]

SUBJECT re: S.O.S—LIFE SUCKS!!!!!!!

TIME: 3:50:51
P.M.
, MST

Uh-oh, Mer. Sounds bad! (((((((((((Meryl)))))))))))))

As for your mondo-baffling question, TRL is a television
show on MTV (which stands for Music Television—they show music videos and stuff) where … um, it’s hard to explain. It’s filmed on the street, sort of, in NYC, and they have pop stars and bands and stuff come on to be interviewed and perform. It’s really cool, if you’re into television and pop stars and all that stuff you aren’t into.

But, why do you want to know??? Does this have something to do with the debate team? Is Ismet on the debate team? Whatever it is, don’t sweat it!!! You’re fine, Mer. We love you just as you are.

xoxoxoxo—Lila

Friends 4ever!

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected], [email protected]

SUBJECT: re: S.O.S—LIFE SUCKS!!!!!!!

TIME: 4:05:22
P.M.
, MST

Meryl, girl, WHAT on earth HAPPENED???? Lila already told you about TRL, so I won’t waste the space. But, fill us in! I hate to hear you sounding so upset. If Ismet said something awful to you, I’ll kick
his butt!!! I love you, too. ((((((((((MER)))))))))))

Your best friend forever, Caressa

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected], [email protected]

SUBJECT: re: S.O.S—UFE SUCKS!!!!!!!—update

TIME: 4:11:59
P.M.
, MST

Hi Guys—

[SIGH] I’ve calmed down some, I think. Sorry for the panic, but I was fresh from the humiliation, and I really needed to talk to you both RIGHT THEN. And no, Caressa, Ismet didn’t say anything mean to me. I just made a fool of myself because I misunderstood something he’d invited me to do. It had to do with this TRL—little did I know!!

I don’t usually let that stuff bother me, but with Ismet, it did.

Slight change of subject, girls. I’m just starting to feel like the dumb supper was TRULY DUMB, as in STUPID. Maybe I was completely off base when I said I thought it worked. I mean, all Lila does is snipe at Dylan, and he has a perky blonde girlfriend anyway.
Ismet isn’t interested in me IN THE LEAST. And Caressa, you with your famous twenty-one-year-old musician thing—enough said. It’s just not turning out like I know it would have if the dumb supper had worked its magic!

Maybe it didn’t work after all. I don’t know. Don’t mind me. I’m rambling. Thanks for the hugs, both of you. I’m going to go read or meditate or eat chocolate or cry (again!) or something. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.

Love, Meryl

A few minutes after I’d signed off, the phone rang. It was Shefka. I didn’t want to talk to her, but when I tried to pretend I wasn’t home, my mom looked at me like I’d lost my mind. So, I released this big sigh and just took the cordless phone from her. I’d have to face Shefka sooner or later.

“Are you okay?” Shefka asked, after the hello part.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m … sorry I ran out like that. Is Jenita okay?” I bit my bottom lip.

“She was disappointed to see you go, but she is fine.”

I sat down on my bed, leaned against the upholstered
headboard, then crossed my legs. “I was just embarrassed is all. I didn’t mean to upset her. Or you.”

“But, why were you embarrassed?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Ismet told me about your conversation. He has no idea what’s going on. Clueless boy.” She paused. “Can I ask you, is this something about the television show?”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “It is.” I spent a few minutes explaining the way my family lives, and just like I knew she would, Shefka asked polite and intelligent questions and wasn’t the least bit judgmental.

“I wish you would have just said something to me, though. It is not such a big deal.”

I sighed again—something I’d been doing a lot of. It was like I lived inside a Jane Austen book or something where everyone was basically sad and dissatisfied. “I would’ve, but I was caught off guard in front of your brother.”

Again, she lapsed into a small silence. “You like Ismet, don’t you?”

Panic zinged through me briefly, but I couldn’t lie. I bonked my head against my headboard. Thank goodness it was padded, or I might’ve suffered permanent
damage. “Ugh. Am I that transparent?”

She laughed. “Not to him, if that is what worries you. You know how boys are.”

“Clueless.”

“Yes. Especially my brother. But, I had an idea of your feelings. I could tell by the way you look at him.”

I hoped she didn’t feel like I was using her to get closer to Ismet. I needed to make it clear to her, because I abhorred hurting people. “I do have a crush on Ismet, but that’s not why I spend time with you and Jenita. I hope you know that.”

“Of course. No need to worry. But, I guess I should tell you a few things about Ismet.” She sounded almost apologetic.

My stomach contracted with something ice cold that felt like fear. What could she possibly say? Was he dying of a terminal illness? Was he gay? Was he promised in marriage to some waifish girl from Bosnia? Madly in love with a Turkish pop star? I braced myself. “Um. Okay, what?”

“Well, as much as I am proud of being Bosnian, Ismet is … the opposite.”

“What?” Shock riddled through me.

“Yes. Since we moved here, he wants to be the all-American boy, with all-American clothes and music … and”—she paused, and I held my breath—“an all-American girlfriend.”

UGH. Of course. “Why?” I sort of whispered.

“I do not really know. But, he is pretty … how do you say?
Swayed?
By the popular culture,” she said. “He wants to fit in that way. And he wants a girlfriend who can help him fit in.”

Which meant he didn’t want ME.

I can’t even tell you how disappointed I was to hear this about my number-one crush. One thing I’d never be able to do was help someone fit in with the popular culture. As if. “Great.” I swallowed thickly. “I’m just what he doesn’t want—a girl who knows diddly-squat about all that stuff.”

Shefka made a regretful sound, but she didn’t sugarcoat her reply. “I think, probably not, Meryl. At least not now while he is being struck by the stars.”

I smiled a little, in spite of my mood. “Starstruck?”

“Yes, that is what I meant.” Another hitch in the conversation. “I’m sorry. If it is any consolation, I think you are sweeter than any of the girls Ismet fancies from school.”