Crazy in Love (19 page)

Red and I drive around for a while and talk about everything except what’s really on my mind. Then I pull in at a fast food, and we get fries to share.

“Alicia’s coming to the next game the day after Thanksgiving, ” I tell her.

“Man, I’d like to see her!” Red exclaims. “I’m so bummed that I have to miss the game. Now I’ll miss Alicia, too. We kind of lost touch.”

“Why can’t you be here?”

“Alex and I are going to California for Thanksgiving break. It’s time to visit Alex’s dad and the new wife.”

“Is he close to his dad?” I kind of remember when his parents got a divorce. I don’t think Alex saw his dad much after that.

“Nope. Not sure about this new wife either. She’s just a couple years older than we are. She thought Alex was kidding when he told her we needed separate bedrooms.”

I know I’m not going to get a better opening than this. “Separate bedrooms, huh? Guess that means you’re hanging on to your membership in AIA.” I make it a joke, but I wait for an answer.

Red shakes her head, then turns to me. “Abstinence in Action. Man, was that like a thousand years ago? I haven’t thought about that for a long time.”

“We were pretty smart for kids, huh?”

“We were? I guess.”

She narrows her brown eyes and lets me know she’s on to me. “Okay. I may not have thought about our pact for a while, but I sure do think about abstinence all the time. I have to.” She laughs. It’s the same laugh I remember—loud, unrestrained, out there. “I have to because being around that man of mine can’t help but make me think about sex.” She sighs deeply. “He is
so
sexy, isn’t he?”

“But . . . but you mean . . . you and Alex haven’t . . . you’re not—”

“Nope.”

“But you’re so much in love.”

“Which is
why
we’re waiting until we get married.”

“Isn’t it hard?” I think of Jackson and me on that bed in his furniture shop, and I shiver inside.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident.” Red turns in her seat and draws her knees up, so she’s sitting on her feet, just like she used to do on my bedroom floor when she and Alicia came over to listen to music. “Okay,” she begins, “sex is intense. Even if you’re positive you’re not risking AIDS or STDs, sex changes everything in a relationship. It takes over and grows without any effort at all. Communication takes effort, so why work at that anymore? Then you’ve got this intense, confusing relationship with nowhere to go.”

I wish Alicia were here to make her case for true love and true sex. I’d much rather sit in the background and listen to the two of them debate. “What about Alex? How’s he handling it?”

“Alex and I have our own pact. He’s coming from a different place. You know how much that boy believes in God.”

I’m uncomfortable now, so I try to lighten us up. “So he’s afraid God will zap you if you have sex?” I laugh, and so does she.

“No way! Alex says sex is God’s thing. God made the equipment, and he knows when it ought to be used to get the most out of it. And we plan to get
the most
out of it, girl. You just wait for the earthquake that’s going to register on that Richter scale on our wedding night!”

We’re quiet for a minute. I can’t bring myself to ask her all the other questions the voices are shouting in my head:
How does she stand it? Isn’t she afraid she’ll lose him? Does she feel like they’re the only ones waiting?

I steer the conversation back to Dragon basketball until I drive her home.

“Thanks for the fries, Mary Jane,” Red says when I pull up in her driveway. “Tell Alicia to call me or e-mail.” She gets out of Fred but leans in before she shuts the door.

“I’ll tell her,” I promise. “And thanks, Red. I know you think I’m crazy. But I needed tonight. Things have been getting kind of confusing lately.”

She grins and winks. “Mary Jane, we hold these truths to be self-evident.”

23

All week I count
down minutes to Thanksgiving break. Then the last day of school, Jackson shows up with bad news. As in Paul-Bunyan-sized bad news.

“My mom was on the phone half the night with my grandmother. Gram’s got a cold. They can’t come down here for Thanksgiving, so we have to go up there. We’re leaving today, Mary Jane.”

“No!” I protest. “Can’t you stay home without them? You could have Thanksgiving dinner with us.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s a bad idea. Thanksgiving at the Ettermeyers’ has the potential to destroy relationships. My uncle used to bring a different date every year, but it usually ended up being his last date with said girlfriend-of-the-year. He and my dad have an unspoken rivalry that sometimes gets spoken on Thanksgiving.

Jackson is shaking his head. “I tried everything, including claiming that I’ve developed an allergy to turkey and sweet potatoes. No way out. We’re driving to Oak Lawn right after I get out of class.”

“Today?” It’s starting to sink in. “You’re leaving today?” That means I won’t see him tonight. Or tomorrow. I don’t know if I can stand being away from him that long.

His arm tightens around me. “I know. Believe me, I’d stay home if I could. But listen. It could work out for us, Mary Jane.”

I can’t imagine how his being gone could possibly work out for us.

“I talked them into driving two cars. Dad got a deal on some lamps and end tables my grandma’s been looking for. He’s filled the backseat of his car. So he was glad to have me drive and take the rest of the boxes.”

“Still waiting to see how this works for
us,
” I say impatiently.

“I’m getting to that part.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans down so his face is an inch from mine. “They’re going to stay the whole weekend, and I’m driving back alone on Friday.”

It’s not as good as if he were staying home the whole time, but it’s better than nothing. I lean my forehead against his. “Good. Because there’s no way I could wait until Sunday to see you again.”

“Mary Jane, it’s not just good. It’s perfect!” He wraps me in his arms. “We can finally get some time alone. We need this, babe. We’ll have the whole house to ourselves.” He strokes my hair, and hot chills race through my body. “I want this to be so special, Mary Jane.” He leans down and kisses me. “This is going to be
our
Thanksgiving. Friday’s
our
night.”

We’re almost late going inside, so we split to our own lockers. As I watch him walk away, the voices in my head are screaming:

Part of me is complaining that everything is moving too fast. But the other part of me, the part that feels like I’ve known Jackson forever, is cheering that it’s about time.

But am I ready? Ready for
it?
Things were so simple back when the founding fathers—mothers—formed Abstinence in Action. I think I still believe the things we said when we made our pact. And Red made perfect sense. I know I only get one “first.” I know it would be the best thing if it came on my wedding night, rose petals strewn on the honeymoon bed—this is how I’ve pictured it.

On the other hand, Alicia’s broken the pact, and her world hasn’t fallen apart. Maybe Jackson isn’t even thinking of
that,
exactly. Maybe he’s just thinking of the imagined “missing-four-minute” version of
that.
But that’s close enough.

We have early release for Thanksgiving, giving us another reason for thanks. Jackson and I stroll to the senior lot, our arms around each other. “Couldn’t we just run away to Ply-mouth Rock or something?” I suggest.

His arm tightens around my waist. “Just keep thinking about Friday.” He sounds happy and excited. “Just tell me you’re okay with Friday night.”

I look up at him. He is so amazing. How could I
not
be okay? “Are you kidding?”

He lifts me off the ground and spins me around before setting me down slowly. “I love you, Mary Jane.”

“Me too you.”

We hold hands as we walk to Fred.

“Any chance you’ll get back in time for Sandy’s game Friday? ” I ask. “Sandy would love it. And Alicia’s going to be there with her boyfriend.”

“I’ll try, okay? I’d love to watch Sandy play again. And I don’t think I’ve seen your friend Alicia since she graduated. No guarantees, though. I’ll call your cell when I’m on the way back, okay?”

We’re standing beside Fred, and I know it’s time to go. “Well . . . ” I say, but I’m fresh out of words. I know it’s only two days, but I can’t imagine forty-eight hours without him.

Jackson reaches out and touches my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Mary Jane Ettermeyer. You know that? And I can’t wait to have you all to myself. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll take care of you.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this beautiful. Even
Plain Jane
in my head isn’t arguing the point.

Jackson leans down and kisses me, so deep and so full that every other thought dissolves. “Until Friday,” he says when we come up for air.

My legs feel wobbly, but I manage to get into my car. I smile through the window at Jackson, amazed that someone like Jackson House would choose me. “Until Friday,” I promise.

24

When Fred ad I
pull into the drive, I half expect to see Alicia’s VW there, just like old times. But the driveway is empty. I’ve only talked to Alicia once all week, and she was in a hurry for class, but I know her break starts today. I’ve calculated how long it should take her to drive home from the university, and she should be here by now, unless traffic was worse than I thought. I’m bursting to tell her everything. If she doesn’t get here soon, I’ll make her spend the night, and we’ll have a no-holds-barred, tell-all marathon. Colt will have to fend for himself.

I jog inside. Mom and Sandy are on the couch, watching something that features annoying, squeaky cartoon voices.

“Hi, guys! Did Alicia call?”

“No.” Mom looks up from the giant recipe file on her lap. “Do you think you remember Aunt Jill’s recipe for that cranberry-marshmallow salad your dad loves? Because I can’t find it anywhere.”

“No.” I hang my coat on the one empty hook by the door. “Are you sure Alicia hasn’t called? No messages?”

“No. Oh, and don’t forget,” Mom reminds me. “You need to make your overnight salad for dinner tomorrow.”

“I will,” I promise. “I’m going up and call Alicia.”

I shut the door to my bedroom and dial Alicia’s house. I haven’t dialed it since she left for college, but the number’s tattooed in my brain.

A man answers. Probably Alicia’s current stepfather. “Yeah?”

“This is Mary Jane. Is Alicia home?”

“Just a minute.”

Several minutes later Alicia’s mother picks up. “Hello?”

“Hello . . . ” I have momentary brain freeze and can’t remember her newest married name. Then I do. “Hello, Mrs. Wallace. This is Mary Jane.”

“Okay.”

I’m getting the feeling she just woke up. “Um . . . is Alicia home yet?”

“She’s getting in tomorrow,” she answers.

I’m stunned. “Are you sure? I thought she was coming today.”

“Tomorrow.” Her tone makes it clear that we’re done debating the point.

“Well, thanks.” I almost ask her to have Alicia call me when she gets in. But it wouldn’t do any good. In all the years Alicia and I have been friends, her mother successfully relayed exactly one message. And that one came too late to do any good.

I hang up and dial Alicia’s school number. This doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t she come home today? And why wouldn’t she call me? She had to know I’d be waiting for her.

“Hello?” She’s answered on the first ring, but she doesn’t sound any wider awake than her mother did.

“Alicia? How come you’re still there?”

“I decided three nights in Attila would be about all I could handle.”

“I was hoping we’d have time to talk tonight.” I know I sound whiny, but I’m so disappointed, I can’t help it.

No response.

“Why didn’t you call?” I demand.

“Sor-ry. I just forgot.”

I’m moving swiftly through disappointment straight into anger. “You forgot to call? When you knew I was waiting for you?”

“I’ll be there tomorrow. And Friday. And Saturday.”

I know she’s probably staying the extra night so she and Colt can do . . . whatever it is they do. And I should be more understanding, especially since I know how she feels now. But the least she could have done was call me.

“Don’t be mad, Mary Jane,” she says. “I’ll call you when I get in tomorrow. We’ll have lots of time to talk. Okay? It’ll be great.”

She’s saying the right words now, and I try not to feel like I feel. I don’t want to ruin the little time she does spend here. “You’re right,” I finally agree. “It’ll be great to catch up.”

“So we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” This feels like an exit line to me, and I wonder if Colt’s there with her right now.

“Okay. See you then, Alicia.”

“Is Alicia coming over?” Mom asks when I join them downstairs.

“No. She’s not driving home until tomorrow.” I keep my voice light so she won’t see how bummed I am.