Ache (4 page)

I grab two more long-neck bottles of beer out of the refrigerator and absently follow the sound of the Nova’s stereo back to the parking lot, but I’m thinking about Shauna.  There’s something about her, I want to ask her out, but it never seems like the right time.  She’s not part of the scene and maybe that’s part of what draws me to her and frightens me at the same time, like I’m not her type —
like I’m beneath her.

The weird thing is; she’s what I want and need, but represents everything I hate.  And strangely, somehow, seeing her for a few minutes makes everything better in a way that nothing else does, at least for a little while.  Maybe it’s the possibility of sex with someone with self-respect.  It’s all pretty confusing.

I look down at the duffle and smile.  I even have an excuse this morning.

Todd pulls up his black, secret-agent-style sun glasses as I walk up to the car and take a swig.  He has a flat-top styled mohawk with a tail, but the front is still long.  He stares at me through his curly bangs with a troubled expression.  He’s a year older than me, slightly round and slightly short.  Today, he’s wearing a D.O.A. shirt and denim overalls.  Somehow he makes it work.

Ever since our gigging schedule picked up over the last few months, the band has been getting closer, but Todd’s been with me the longest.

He turns down the stereo.  “Where’s mine?” he asks.

“What? I just had to deal with all this bullshit, and you’re not even worried about me?” I ask.

“Don’t whine, it’s annoying.  Priorities dude, priorities.  Beer?”

I pull the bottle from behind my back and hand it to him through the window.  He smirks and then finishes the can of beer he was nursing and tosses it into the parking lot.

“Martin’s gone, huh?” he asks.

“Was there any doubt?” I ask as I toss the duffle in the floorboard and drop back into the car.

“Sucks, dude.  Sorry.”

“Thanks.  Drive me over to the bank.  I need to make a deposit.”

Todd tips his head and his shades fall back into place as he drops the Nova into first and stands on it, fish-tailing the car and getting us back out onto Elm Street.

He glances up at the rear view mirror.  “I hate that park.  Even when we used to hang out there, I didn’t like it.  Remember the ghost stories?”

I watch it recede through the side mirror as we drive over the drainage ditch bridge.  “I don’t think about it.”

Todd glances at me with real concern, a look he gives me all too often lately and I pretend not to notice, as usual.  And, as usual, he lets it go.

“Do you ever think about wearing seatbelts?” he asks from out of nowhere.

“Where did that come from?”

“I heard they are thinking about passing a law.”

“Like you can’t drink and drive, no open containers, that kind of law?”

Todd laughs and salutes me with his beer and takes a drink.  “Yeah.”

I’m happy to change the subject.  “I’ll bite, why?”

“Save lives,” he says.

“Save them for what?  Who expects to live anyway, brainwashed suburban zombies?  You really expect to see thirty?”

“I don’t know about you, but yeah, thirty seems doable,” Todd says.

“I didn’t expect to see sixteen, thirty is a lifetime away.  Let’s see if I live long enough to register for the draft, then we’ll talk, assuming Reagan doesn’t declare war on someone or start launching nukes.”

Todd just grins at me and casually keeps us on course, one hand on the cue-ball stick shift and the other lazily draped over the wheel, holding his beer by the neck.

“Sixteen, huh?  Sounds like you’re still whining?  And Reagan isn’t going to nuke anyone, least not anyone we know,” he says.

“We’ll see, we’ll see.  Aren’t you worried about signing up for the draft?” I ask, grinning at him. 

“Nah, I think I’m good. Besides they aren’t actually drafting anyone anymore, it’s just signing up.”

“I know,
but we register for a reason; you never know when Uncle Sam’s going to need you again,” I say pointing at him, “it doesn’t matter anyway, I think you’d love basic training.”

The memory of Vietnam is never far away with MIA flags and bumper stickers to remind us.  We all know guys or family that came back all fucked up, or didn’t come back at all.  We joke about the draft, like we joke about everything else, but it’s fucking unnerving, especially with Reagan in office.

“The only thing
basic
I’m worried about is math over at the Junior College,” Todd says.

“I can’t believe you’re buying into College, Junior or otherwise.”

“Hey, if the parental units want to spring for it, I can at least show up.  C’s aren’t that tough.”

“I’m losing you, man, you’re going to run off and join the corporate machine, go to work for the oil companies or something.”

He laughs.  “Never, but,” he pauses and looks at me.

“
Never, say — never
,” we sing at the same time.

“Cool band,” he says.

“Best name ever.”

Todd nods
his head.  “You know, now that I think about it, maybe they said it saves money, money or lives, one of ‘em,” he says.

I laugh.  “Now that makes more sense.  We could write a song about this, there’s one in there somewhere.”

“Fascist fucks,” he suddenly shouts in time with a non-existent melody as he pounds the ceiling of the Nova.

“Fucking-A.”

He pauses and tilts his head.  “Are we hypocrites for bitching about zombies living a meaningless suburban existence even though we’re living a meaningless existence in the suburbs?”

“No, that’s what makes us experts.”

He grins and takes another sip.

It’s a short drive and soon the bank is in view.

Todd looks over and points his beer at me.  “Okay, dude, time for some tough love.  It’s been like, forever, since you started talking about that girl at the bank, if she’s there, maybe today would be a good time to ask her out.  If she says yes, you’ll feel a shit-load better.  Don’t give me that look, you know you will.”

“It’s only been a few weeks and she’s so out of my league, no really.  She’s not going to say yes.”

“You’re good with girls.  You’ve got the look, the hair, the charismatic desperation.”

“Thanks.  I’m not good with girls like her, she’s nice.”

“Nice?  What does that even mean?’ Todd asks.

“You know what it means.”

“Oh, she’s not a slut?” Todd laughs.

“Fuck you and no, she’s not.  She’s special.”

“Oh, special, huh?  What, she have all her teeth or something?”

“Most of them.”  I chug half my beer and stare back at him.

“Since when did you ever give a shit what a girl thought of you?  Wait.  Does this have something to do with your mystery girl fantasy?”

“No.  Why would you think that?” I ask indignantly.

“Fuck, it does.  You haven’t mentioned her in a while.  I should have known.”

“I didn’t mention her now,” I remind him.

This is getting irritating.

“You didn’t have to.  Dude, you were two ships passing in the night.  I heard that in a movie.”  He grins.  “It happened, whatever that was and now it’s long gone.  Time to move on.”

“I did move on.”

“Did you?  You spent a year looking for her and pestering folks around Sterling Hills.  Are you sure that was the end of it?” Todd asks.

“It was only six months.”

“Oh, that’s much better, only six months.  Dude, why?  What was so important about her?” 

“You wouldn’t understand,” I say, dismissing the subject.

We stop at a red light and he starts running the stick shift through the gears. I’m hoping he’ll get distracted with traffic and drop it.

“What do you mean I wouldn’t understand?”

He’s not going to.

“She was normal,” I say.

“She was rich, that isn’t normal.”  He looks more serious now, which means he understands more than I want him to.

“She was good, man, I mean like good and evil good, you know?  There was something about her, something pure and hopeful and shit,” I say.

“She was just some chick.  Lot’s of hot chicks out there, dude and the evil ones are way more fun.”

“No, it wasn’t about being hot or getting laid.”

“What else is there?  Look, she’s not that special,” he says as he takes another drink of his beer.  “No chick is that important.”

“Yeah, she is.  She made me forget about, forget about, you know.”

“No I don’t, forget what?” he asks.

He’s going to make me say it.

I turn and glare at him and then shout.
  “The pain, man.  The fucking pain.  My whole fucking life, just everything.”  I take a breath and try to dial it back down.  “She was like a goddamn promise to make it okay.  I thought she could make me matter, make me worthy or something.  She was like raining sunshine,” I say without thinking.

“Sorry, man.”  He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder, but I shrug him away.  “I didn’t know it mattered that much, but raining what?”

The light changes to green and Todd slowly gets us going again.

I lean back in the seat and take a drink of beer as I close my eyes.  “She knew who I was, maybe not everything, but she accepted me for me.  No one’s done that for a long time.  You fucking happy now?”

“I accept you,” Todd says quietly.

I look over and grin, all my frustration slips right out the window.  “Yeah, you do.  Thanks man, but it’s not the same.  She gave me hope.  Pretty fucked up, huh?”

“Honestly?” he asks.

I look at him and his expression makes me start to laugh.

He laughs too.  “I mean, I think I get it with your dad and everything, but yeah, it’s fucked up.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think about her anymore, not really, you know?”

“Yeah, sure you don’t.”  He gives me a slightly disapproving look and then laughs again as he shakes his head.  “Okay, so back to the bank chick, shit or get off the pot, dude.  You can’t bitch about not being accepted or worthy or how great she is at blowing sunshine out her ass if you don’t ask her out.”

I laugh again.  “It was
raining
sunshine.”

Todd just levels a look at me as if to say,
D
o
n’t be a pussy
.

“Whatever, I’ve had enough emotional bullshit lately, I’m all good,” I say, waving him off.

“Nah, you can take a little more, but maybe she is your mystery girl, maybe she isn’t.  You’ll never know unless you ask — don’t hurt to try,” Todd says.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do know and I’m pretty sure it will.”

We pull into the bank and park as I start unlacing my sneakers.

“What are you doing?” Todd asks.

“My shoes are covered in dried blood.  You really think she’ll say yes to a psycho?  I have too many question marks as it is.”

“You don’t think the swimsuit and the Strawberry Shortcake t-shirt qualifies as psycho?”

“You’re a regular motivation coach, you know?”

“It’s ‘cause I care.”  He smiles.  “Hey, hang on.”  Todd reaches into the backseat and retrieves a leftover black and white flyer for our show Saturday night.  We’ve pasted several hundred up across the city over the last couple of days, dodging shop owners and cops.  “Invite her to the show.”

“Dude, you’re a genius.”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”  He grins.

“That sounds ominous; your ideas usually make me nervous.  Here goes nothing,” I sigh.

“That’s the spirit,” Todd says through a grin as he shakes his head.

I pull the cash from the duffle and slide out of the car again, but this time it’s a neat and prim bank parking lot.  Manicured bushes and flowers surround the lot and sidewalks.  It’s the better side of the tracks over here, the side with reason to smile.

The pavement is stupid hot, so I run into the lobby and see her about the same time she looks up at me.  I suddenly realize I’m still holding the beer, so I take a quick drink and set it down behind the small trash can by the door normally reserved for envelopes and those little paper coffee cups with playing cards on them.  She covers her mouth and I can tell she’s giggling.

I'm lucky, because the lobby is empty.  I make a production of straightening and smoothing out my shirt and push my long hair back over my shoulders before walking up to her window.  I know I’m grinning, but I can’t seem to stop. 

“Hi Connor,” she says in that sweet, slightly breathy voice.  “Been swimming?”

“No, why?”

She glances at my swim trunks.

“Oh, no.  I don’t do swimming, at least not since I was a kid.”

“This a new, um, fashion statement then?”

“What?” I give her an innocent look.

“Nice hat, by the way.  Chicken out on getting the mo-hawk?”

“Something like that,” I say, the innocence fades.  “Can you do the deposit slip for me?”

“I always do.”  She starts filling out the slip in big loopy letters and numbers while I lay the stack of cash on the counter.

“You memorized my account number and everything?”

“Yep,” she says without looking up.

“Isn’t that against bank policy?”

She looks up and grins.  “Probably.  So you started partying early?”

“No, um, why?”  I ask through mock chagrin.

She points towards the trash can with her pen.  “Well, I thought you might be a little drunk.  You’re wearing a swimsuit and a ski cap.  Shoes might have been a nice touch.  And Strawberry Shortcake?  Really?”

“Hey,” I say pulling on my shirt.  “Strawberry Shortcake rocks, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you have any clothes that at least match?”

The truth is I really don’t.

“The airline lost my luggage and Todd, he’s my driver, he’s got this thing about malls, so I’m kind of stuck” I joke.

“You, have a driver?” she asks skeptically.

“Yeah, but don’t tell him that, he thinks he’s my best friend.”

“Well, it’s none of my business, but I think you’d clean up nice.”  She smiles and her eyes are twinkling, or maybe it’s just the morning light shining across the lobby.

“I’m one of those unwashed masses you’ve been hearing so much about lately,” I say defensively.

“Seriously, you’re in here making deposits all the time, you must have a little left over,” she chides me and then she stops and winces.  “Sorry, that was so none of my business.”

“It’s fine, but no I don’t.  I just go to the cash-machine and withdraw the same money over and over so I can come in here and deposit it.  It’s the best excuse I’ve come up with to see you.  You didn’t think I had a job did you?”  I grin as charmingly as I’m able, at least, I hope it looks charming and not creepy.

She looks away and I can’t read her expression.

Truth be told though, I’m not digging the plan too much about now.  The thought of rejection isn’t a game anymore.
This is the furthest I’ve put myself out there in pretty much forever, and I feel an unpleasant and unfamiliar anxiety rising.

She counts the money carefully and places it into her drawer, writes some stuff down and hands me the carbon copy.

I take it and stand there like an idiot.  She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even blink.

Shit.

Maybe I should just take the receipt and split real cool like and try again another time, like maybe next Christmas.

“Something else I can help you with?” she asks. 

Yes, you can save my pathetic life.

She just stares at me blankly for a moment and then a smile slowly spreads across her face, it’s enchanting.  I can smell her perfume, she smells clean and fresh, pure — like something I’d fuck up.

That smile renews my confidence and I decide, yes — today will be the day she shoots me down in flames.

“Connor?” she prompts.

I look down at my feet and then lay the flyer on the counter.

“My band’s playing tomorrow night at The Underground.  If you’re not too busy, maybe you can come?”

Her smile disappears and now it’s her turn to look down.  “Thanks for the invitation, but I have a boyfriend, sorry.”  She scrunches her face up when she says it.  Rejection’s never been so damn cute.

But even so, we’re all done here.

I knew this was how it was going to go, but it still hurts, way more than I thought it was going to, actually.  Fucking Todd got me thinking all positive and shit again.  I have to remind myself to stop listening to him, broken clock my ass.

“He’s a lucky guy,” I say.  I say it, because I mean it.  “Hey, bring him too, it’ll be fun, it’ll be fun.  The other bands playing should be pretty cool.  It’s a good crowd, a bit rough, but cool.”

“How rough?  Do I need protection?” she asks.

“I think your boyfriend can handle it.”

“And if he can’t?” she asks through a grin I can’t read.

“Then I’ll jump down off the stage and open up a can of whup-ass.”

She giggles.

“Okay, rewind that, but imagine I’m wearing a biker jacket.”

“No, still not working.  I can’t picture you and whup-ass in the same sentence, sorry.”

I set the flyer down on the counter, slow and gentle, and push it towards her ever so slightly and tap it with my finger.  “See you tomorrow night.”

I give her a big happy smile and as I back out of the bank, Mrs. Farmington, my elementary school math teacher and now one of the bank managers, runs over and starts lecturing me about coming into the bank barefoot.  I see Shauna laugh, but I also see her slip the flyer off the counter.

I wonder if it went into her purse or the trashcan.  But if she tossed it out, then what was the point of that whole conversation about protecting her?  I suck at this shit.

I put my hands up defensively and apologize to Mrs. Farmington as I walk out the doors.  I pause and watch her walk back over to Shauna.  I slip the door back open just enough to grab my beer.

Shauna sees me and starts to giggle, which Mrs. Farmington responds to with a raised and shaking finger, not turning around to look at me.  I smile and slide back out.  I hope she’s not in too much trouble.

The shadow of the bank has cooled the sidewalk right outside, but I start to run again as I step into the sunlight.

“Well?” Todd asks as I jump into the Nova.

“She has a boyfriend.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, well, it makes sense.  I told you, I’m not surprised.  She’s a couple of years older, has a real job and she’s pretty hot in that 'girl-next-door from a-better-neighborhood' kind of way.”

Truth be told, she always wears pink lip gloss and has the cutest little nose.  She looks like a goddamn fairy.  She has a heart shaped face and her strawberry blonde hair is permed.  She has bangs and always has her hair pulled back with banana clips so that it does this pony-tail thing.  And with her hair back, you can see her slender neck and delicate ears that usually have peacock feathered earrings dangling from them.  She has a freckle at the corner of her left eye; otherwise her skin looks like porcelain — except for the golden tan, that is.  She’s usually wearing this mischievous look, like she has a secret, but wouldn’t think of sharing, even on a dare. 

Even that dreadful pantsuit they make her wear for work can’t hide it.  But it’s her big blue eyes that I can’t escape.  They look like steel, almost whitish — taunting me with what I can’t have.  They just suck me in and I can’t explain it.  Who the fuck knows?  And it doesn’t really matter anymore anyway.

Jesus, what was I thinking?

Todd interrupts my thoughts.  “Wait, she’s hot?  You never said she was hot.  We’re talking about you, right?  Dude, you never had a chance.  You should have mentioned that sooner.  You realize we’re wasting time we could be partying, right?  I thought she had a hump or something.”  He hunches over and makes ogre fang gestures.  “And you gave it a shot dressed like that?  You’re brave, dude — a moron, but brave.”

“And you’re a dick.”

I look down at my bloody shoes in the floorboard and then back out the windshield.

Quietly I say, “I really like her though, it’s like that moth to a flame shit.  I don’t know what it is, but it sucks.”  I look out the side window at the bank entrance.

“Dude?  Your number’s up, something good is going to happen.  You’re all kinds of due.”

“Yeah?  We’ll see, we’ll see, I’m not holding my breath, that’s for sure.  But, while I’m waiting, I need to go to the mall.”

“The eighth circle of Hell?”

“Yeah, the circle that sells shoes,” I say as I stick one foot up in his face and wiggle my toes.

Todd grins and pushes a new cassette into the player and now Joe Jackson’s
The Man
.  I love the bass on this album, it’s tight and thumps, but still cuts through.  Todd turns it up loud and we drive, each lost in our own thoughts.  I bang my head to the groove while I watch the city life go by, normal lives and average people that think today was pretty good and tomorrow is going to be better.

Suckers.