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  Needless to say, I spent a lot of my free time at the rink.

  The weekends, however, left me with too much down time. I’d gotten in the habit of purposely putting myself in Layla’s way in the hopes that it would spark a confrontation. But God. She barely looked at me much less spoke a word in my direction.

  Didn’t stop me from trying, however.

  That first weekend, I brought Barbara Vlajnik as my date to a Rymer party. And hell if she wasn’t the perfect party girl to have on my arm. We went shot-for-shot all evening long, and before I could register how we’d gotten there, we were behind the garage and her hand was down my pants.

  She got a little overzealous when she used a bit of excessive force to grab my balls, and next thing I knew, I was folded in half puking in Mrs. Rymer’s rhododendron. Alone.

  The next night, I brought Margie Caputo to The Barrens. Again, I fully admit that I drank too damned much, as evidenced by my sloppy attempt to cop a feel of her sweater-meat in full view of everyone sitting around the fire.

  She wasn’t into putting on a show and tried to talk me into “taking a walk in the woods” instead. I had to lean on her pretty heavily as she led me away from the party, but instead of letting me nail her against a tree, she put me in her car to go home. I guess she’d had enough of me. Before she could start the ignition, I made a half-assed attempt to make a move when I realized I just didn’t give a shit. Soon after, I was trying to retain the contents of my stomach as Margie’s car bounced up the road to my house... and the next thing I knew, it was morning. Apparently, I’d spent the night passed out on the floor of my foyer.

  The next weekend at Pick’s house, everything came to a head.

  He and his twin sister Penelope were having a party at their father’s condo while the old man was out of town. I’d picked up a bottle of Jaeger from the liquor store on the way there and a drunken waif from the parking lot on the way out. We’d barely said two words to each other before I was inviting her to be my date for the party. I don’t even remember her name. She was just some random girl from Norman Valley.

  Don’t ask.

  Anyway, I got us to Pick’s in one piece, then downed half the bottle before heading inside. As soon as we walked in the door, I saw Layla. I saw two of her, actually. She was sitting at the snack bar with Benedict. Jesus, she sure didn’t waste any time hooking back up with her ex. Hell, maybe he was never her ex at all.

  Twiggy and I planted ourselves on the couch. The music was blaring; everyone was laughing. I just downed another shot. I watched Layla lean in and whisper something to Coop and they got up to change locations shortly thereafter. Probably headed to one of the bedrooms to fuck each other’s brains out.

  Fuck them.

  I don’t know where the hell I got off, but I yelled to their backs, “Have a good time, you two!”

  My date draped herself over my arm to add, “Hell knows we sure will! Right, baby?” Then she planted a sloppy Jaeger-bomb kiss on me.

  Fuck it. I wrapped my arms around her non-existent waist and stuck my tongue down her throat. I laid her down on the couch and covered her emaciated body with my own—much to the disgruntlement of some nearby party guests—but whatever. I had a performance to carry out.

  I mean, obviously the PDA was merely to try and piss off Layla as much as possible. Let her see that there were plenty of girls who wanted my attention, who wanted me.

  But when I cracked an eyelid to check out her reaction, she wasn’t even there.

  Things got a bit blurry after that.

  Next thing I knew it was morning, and I was waking up to a pounding head and an awful taste in my mouth.

  Where the fuck am I?

  Oh, right. Pick’s couch.

  The entire room smelled of stale beer, not a huge surprise considering there were empty cans as far as the eye could see. I sat up—painfully—and noticed a yellow Post-It stapled to my shirt:

  T- You were a fucking mess last night.

  I sent your date home in a cab after you passed out.

  There’s some water in the fridge - drink it!

  I’ll call you later.

  -P

  Thanks, Pick.

  Before I could figure out my next move, my body switched to autopilot, launching off the couch and darting for the bathroom where I proceeded to puke my kidneys out.

  Pick was still sleeping. Probably with his girlfriend. I thought that if I asked real nice, maybe Lisa would give me some info on Layla. Maybe I could find out what the hell was going on with her.

  You know what? Fuck that. The ball was in her court. I said everything I needed to say and if that wasn’t good enough, then screw it. I was done chasing her around like some sort of pathetic eunuch.

  I tacked a twenty dollar bill to Pick’s door to pay him back for the cab fare, then dragged myself home.

  Chapter 16

  MISERY

  It wasn’t long afterward when Norman saw its first snowfall. It was a good enough excuse to stop going to parties, to get my shit together. Besides, the stress and aggravation of being in the same room with Layla just wasn’t worth it. My presence made everyone uncomfortable anyway.

  It was pretty understood that she had claim over “our” friends; she’d known them a helluva lot longer than I had. I did miss hanging out with those guys, though. Pickford especially. We’d just started to get close. Hell, I even missed Rymer.

  I didn’t see much of anyone on the weekends, and tried to keep our interactions to a minimum during school hours. I steered clear of the cafeteria as much as possible, and made sure to sit at the farthest end of the table from her when I couldn’t.

  I’d abandoned my attempts at Operation: Antagonize Layla and tried to concentrate on the things that really mattered: School. Avoiding my father. Hockey.

  And even though I had to see her every freaking day, I didn’t speak a single word to her. I didn’t look in her direction. I didn’t even think about her.

  I’d successfully exorcized her from my brain.

  The problem was that on the very first day after my Layla-ectomy, Coach Bennett invited some sophomore from the public high school to work out with the team. His name was Zac McAllister, and even at the age of fifteen, was known around town as the local hockey MVP. He also just happened to be one of the infamous McAllisters who grew up living next door to Layla.

  It was like I couldn’t fucking escape her.

  Even when it was time to do something fun like Christmas shopping, her ghost was in my way. I had no choice but to go to the mall for everyone’s presents, so I simply avoided the entire wing of Totally Videos.

  Thankfully, I never ran into her, and ended up bumping into Pickford instead. We hit the food court together where he showed me the gifts he got for Lisa. There was a gold nameplate necklace, a Gucci keychain... and a bunch of sex stuff he picked up at Spencer’s.

  “Jesus, Pick. Dirty dice, strawberry massage oil, underwear that looks like it’s made out of Fruit Roll-Ups... How much sex are you two having that you already need to spice things up with all this stuff?”

  He shoved everything back in the bag and said, “None yet. But when we do, I want to be ready.”

  I had to physically will myself not to laugh in his face. “Pick. The only thing you need is a box of condoms and a willing partner.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, rather overly-engrossed in my comment.

  His reaction caused the strangest thought to occur to me. “Hey, uh...” I gave a quick scan around us to make sure we weren’t being overheard. “You’ve... I mean, you’ve done this before, right? With other girls?”

  He hesitated for a brief second before shaking his head in the negative.

  “You’re kidding! Star of the basketball team and you never used that to get laid? Dude. If my name carried as much weight as yours I’d be hitting everything that moved. What have you been waiting for?”

  “Lisa.”

  There was no hesitation or irony in his voice when he sai
d her name. I was envious of the bastard, being so sure of what he wanted and totally willing to go after it. Meanwhile, I hadn’t done much to advance from square one. I was pretty sure he knew damn well I was into Layla, but I didn’t think he was aware of how much I’d been holding back when it came to her.

  We both smiled in silent understanding, two poor schmucks who were in complete agony.

  Pick had endured his torture a lot longer than I had, however. Apparently, he’d been in love with Lisa since the eighth grade, but he never did anything about it. You believe that? This confident, athletic guy, and it took him four entire years to build up the nerve to ask her out. It didn’t leave much hope for the rest of us.

  What followed was an hour-long Q and A as Pick sought my expert sexual advice. The stuff they don’t teach you in health class. It wasn’t like I’d been with a million girls or anything, but I’d definitely seen my fair share of action over the years. I answered what I could, but there wasn’t much I could tell him that he didn’t already know for himself. Difference was, he had yet to experience any of it. He seemed pretty confident that that was about to change, and soon.

  For all the graphic stuff we talked about, the conversation only turned awkward whenever we found ourselves dancing around the subject of his girlfriend’s best friend. Everyone at school knew that we’d had a falling out, but no one knew the details. Thankfully, no one asked, either. I found it interesting that Pick felt he could pry into every facet of my sexual history for his own benefit, but that asking me questions about my relationship with Layla was entirely too personal.

  He was right. It was.

  * * *

  My older sister came into town for Christmas. Back in ’87 when we were making the move from Los Angeles to Indy, Claudia announced that she was done bouncing around the country, and opted to stay in California. She was nineteen at the time, so she was granted free will when it came to her own life.

  I wasn’t.

  She’d been living out there the past three years, working on her business degree. I didn’t get to see her more than a few times every year, which really sucked. The last chance we were able to spend any real time together was when Mom, Dad, and I flew out for her graduation from Berkeley back in May. I thought that maybe she’d move back in with us after college, but she re-enrolled at UC—San Diego campus, this time—in pursuit of her MBA.

  We normally celebrated Christmas on the 25th, but that didn’t stop my mother from creating a spectacle on Christmas Eve, too. She spent all day in the kitchen prepping forty-eight hours’ worth of meals: Breakfast casseroles, antipasto, countless homemade pies and side dishes, not to mention the spiral ham and “twenty-six pound turkey!” we’d be eating for our yuletide meals. Kind of weird considering it would just be the four of us, but far be it for me to crush my mother’s joy whenever she was playing Susie Homemaker.

  Mom always tried her damnedest, but the old man always got too drunk and managed to ruin the day every year regardless. This Christmas Eve, he fell asleep on the couch before the ham even hit the table. Mom, Claudia, and I just left him on the sofa and ate dinner without him. He wasn’t there to spout his mouth off and cause a big scene—hell, maybe passing out was his idea of a gift—so we ended up having a peaceful holiday meal for the first time in a long time.

  Later that night, Claudia dragged a mattress into my room so she could sleep with me. We hadn’t done that in forever. But it was Christmas Eve, and tradition was tradition.

  “So,” she said once she was properly situated. “How is it here?”

  A breath hissed between my teeth before I answered, “If you asked me a month ago, I would’ve said awesome.”

  “Why? What’s the matter?”

  I thought about my fall from grace over the past weeks and debated whether or not to tell her about Homecoming night. That was the moment when my life devolved into absolute shit. I could trace it all back to that night.

  “There was a girl. It didn’t work out. Problem is, her friends were my friends. Now they’re not.”

  Layla may have been lost to me, but I was starting to realize that I might have been wrong about the rest of that crew. With a little distance from the situation, I had a better perspective as an objective outsider. I was the one who pulled away. Not them.

  “That sucks, Drip.”

  I snickered at her use of my old nickname before clearing my throat and adding, “I uh... I’ve kinda been drinking more than usual because of it.”

  She sat up to shoot a warning look at me. She knew all too well how much weight my confession carried, but thankfully didn’t tear me a new one. “You’d better watch that.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “I know! I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t planning on owning it.”

  “Fine. Just make sure you’re careful, okay?” She flopped back down onto the mattress again before adding, “Mom told me about the fight you had with Dad.”

  “Which one,” I asked flatly.

  “The big one.” I shrugged, trying to downplay the whole thing, causing her to sigh. “You know, just because I don’t live here doesn’t mean I don’t keep tabs on what’s going on. Mom called me right after it happened. She was going to call the police. Guess she was running it by me first.”

  I almost couldn’t believe my ears. “She what?”

  “Yeah. She said that was her first thought. But after talking to you, she found out that he didn’t actually hit you.”

  “No. He just threw me against a wall.”

  She sat up again as her mouth gaped. “That’s better?”

  “It was a shove gone wrong. If he wasn’t as drunk as he was, that fight would’ve gone down just like all the other ones.”

  “If he wasn’t drunk, the fight wouldn’t have gone down at all.” We shared a knowing look at that. “Look, Trip. Don’t think I don’t understand what you’re going through. I lived in that man’s house for nineteen years, remember? I mean, he never shoved me around, but sometimes his words hurt just as bad. And it’s hard to hate him because sometimes, he’s actually a really good dad.”

  That was it, right there in a nutshell. The guy made it impossible to completely hate him, which almost made me hate him more. It seemed like it would’ve been easier if he was a total asshole all the time. That way, I could just write him off completely. But knowing how awesome and caring he could be... well. Those miniscule, infrequent scraps were enough to keep me coming back for more.

  Pretty pathetic when you think about it.

  I propped a fist under my ear to face her as I griped, “I’m just so sick of trying to figure him out. It sucks not knowing what’s waiting for me when I get home.”

  “I know. It’s why I left. I’m sorry that I left you to deal with him alone.”

  “It’s alright. I know why you had to leave. Besides, I’ve still got Mom.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at me. “She’ll never leave him, you know. I held out hope for way too long.”

  I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I know.”

  In a piss-poor attempt to cheer me up, she changed the subject to the only other thing I didn’t want to talk about. “So, tell me about this girl that’s got you all hot and bothered.”

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Oh, c’mon, Drip. I need gossip.”

  Claudia could be relentless when it came to my private life. There was no way to get out of this except to spill the beans enough to satiate her fix. “Fine. Her name is Layla. She’s funny and cool and I like her a whole lot. But she’s got this on-again off-again boyfriend. I took a shot when they were off. She wasn’t interested.”

  “In you?” she overexaggerated. “What kind of stupid girl wouldn’t fall madly in love with a catch like you, studly?”

  I threw a pillow at her face.

  She sputtered out a laugh before asking, “Is she pretty?”

  “Yeah,” I answered without hesitation. “She’s beautiful.
Everything about her.” Just saying the words aloud caused a vice to tighten around my chest.

  While I was stewing in acid, Claudia buried her face under the pillow, her muffled voice barely audible as she said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” I turned on my side again to face her. She took a deep breath and said, “You know my roommate Sandy? She’s actually... Well I guess she’s...”

  “Your girlfriend.”

  She pulled the pillow away and looked at me in awe. “How did you know?”

  “I’m not stupid, Claud. I know you. I’m actually kinda pissed that you never told me before.”

  Her mouth pursed as she tried to hide a grin. “And you don’t care?”

  “Of course I care. You’re my sister. I care that you’re happy. Are you?”

  She bit her lip, her dark eyebrows rising above her blue eyes. “I really am.”

  “Well, good.” I lay back down on my back to stare at the ceiling. “Is it hard to be away from her over the holidays?”

  “Yes!” she answered, throwing her arms in the air. “But we had our own Christmas out there before I left. I’ll be back in time for us to celebrate New Year’s together.”

  We both fell into a sleepy silence as we pondered all the new information.

  “Hey Claud?” I asked at last.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry you don’t get to spend the holidays with your girlfriend. But I’m really glad you’re here.”

  I thought she’d be touched by my words, and I was feeling pretty proud of myself for having said them. Just as I was patting myself on the back for my emotional maturity, my pillow was returned to my bed with a thwap across my stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

  “What the hell, Claudia?”

  I looked at her like she was nuts as she aimed a toothy grin at me. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  Chapter 17

  ANOTHER YOU