My Lost and Found Life (7 page)

Tattie shrugged and began handing out the little white pills.

I watched Webb grab one. He gave me an I-dare-you look,
swallowed it, chased it down with a swig of beer, and grinned. No doubt about it, the guy did have a great smile going for him, along with that whole dark-and-dangerous-bad-boy look.

I reached over, took a pill, and swallowed it. “Let the games begin,” I said.

At first I didn't feel any different. We listened to music and talked about everything and nothing. Silly Shirlee began to babble about color and how everyone's aura was a different shade. I tuned her out. Gradually, I became aware that an amazingly good feeling had come over me, something between the warm, cozy feeling of curling up on the sofa with a good book, and the euphoric giddiness of the day I had been named homecoming queen.

I felt like my mind was completely in tune and yet goofily happy. All my defenses and my distrustful attitude fell away as if I were shedding a worn-out skin I didn't need anymore. Suddenly, I felt very warm. I pulled off my blouse to reveal the camisole underneath.

“Someone's feeling it,” Webb said, and gave me a glass of water to drink. His thoughtfulness rocked me.

Everyone began to open up. Brain told us that his mother had left yesterday for a rehab clinic.

“It won't work,” he said. “She's gone twice before and
nothing ever changes. She's pathetic. I don't have any respect for her. Or my father. No matter what happens, he pretends that everything's okay. Even after she ODed on wine and sleeping pills and had to have her stomach pumped, he pretended it was just a little accident.”

“The typical all-American parents—all fucked up,” snorted Webb.

“Parents are so totally whacked,” Mike agreed. “It's always all about them—how hard they work, how much they've done for us, how grateful we ought to be—”

“How they deserve some happiness, too,” interjected Webb. “That's my mother's favorite line. Who's she kidding? My mother has never denied herself anything. She's had four husbands, for Christ's sake.”

“None of them remember what it's like to be young,” said Shirlee.

“Oh, I don't know,” said Tattie. “I'm not convinced the Mad Russian has ever grown up.”

Everyone laughed. Tattie always referred to her father as the Mad Russian because he was born and raised in Moscow. Once he had been a businessman, but now he was a cab driver in Vegas.

“He always has some con or other going,” Tattie added. “He stole money from his job, just like your mom. Only reason he's not in the slammer is the company didn't want any publicity.”

“My mother isn't a thief!” I screeched, and then was transfixed by a new and profound thought.

“You know, I don't really know what my mother is.” I looked
at their faces and words began to fly out of my mouth. “I don't think that I have ever really thought about who she is. She was my mother. Her job was to make me happy. My dad was a drunken bastard, and it made me furious to see her treat him like a prince. She was always trying to please him, but she tried to please me, too. It's sad to think how hard she tried to please us both—and I kept pushing her and pushing her. In a way, I despised her for being so weak, for always giving in. I was mean to her; it was all about me, me,
me.
I was the fucked-up one, and now she's gone.”

I started to cry, and they all took turns hugging me. I felt so connected to them. I loved these people, my new, compassionate friends, and I told them so.

“Ashley, you are getting way too deep,” Tattie said.

“That's why the first time is always the best,” Brain said. “It's like taking a truth serum, and all the crap in your life disappears. Your entire view of existence is altered.”

“Not for me,” said Tattie. “Hey, I'm not seeking spiritual enlightenment. I want some fun, capital
F-U-N.
It's time for some action. Let's go to the Last Call.”

Tattie literally propelled us out the door and into my car. I was just going with the flow, full of energy and up for dancing or some way to express the elation I felt.

The Last Call is known for being the spot where everyone in the City goes after the clubs close. The place doesn't even open until midnight, and the music keeps pumping into the morning. Maybe it never stops. In the old days I would have considered the people there dorky or strange. That night, though, I was full of Ecstasy-inspired fellowship and high spirits. Everyone was
cool; everyone was my friend. We danced for hours, swept up in a collective rapture under the flashing lights and moving to the endless techno music.

Before long I was soaked in sweat and thirsty as hell. Webb continued to look after me, making sure I drank enough water to keep hydrated.

When we finally arrived back at my house, everyone collapsed in the living room. Webb started giving me a back rub, and it felt so-o-o good. Sitting there with Webb's strong hands kneading my shoulders, I made my decision. To hell with Scott and all this virginity crap. It was time to go for it. Ignoring everyone else, I grabbed Webb's hand and pulled him down the hall to my bedroom. It seemed like the perfect night to take the plunge and get the whole thing over with.

Webb gave me a really long, soft kiss, and then stopped.

“Hey, look, I've always thought you were very hot. But I'm not looking for a girlfriend, you know. Nothing permanent. I'm leaving here soon.”

“Who says I'm looking for a boyfriend?” I said, pulling him down on the bed. “Good grief, what does it take to get laid around here?”

He pulled a condom out of his wallet and waved it.

I smiled and kissed him again, a kiss that went on and on. All my nerve endings were tingling. For a guy with a hard body, his skin felt surprisingly smooth. I was glad he wasn't too hairy, as that might have put me off the whole thing, and I didn't want to lose my nerve. I sniffed his neck and inhaled his scent. If everything I'd heard about Webb was true, he would know what to do and what to put where.

He did know. The whole thing was fine, honestly—much better than I expected. For one thing, I discovered that when you're the one wanting it and pushing for it, you don't feel as if you're losing control or relinquishing your power. I loved having him stroke my skin and suck my breasts, and the quick, sharp pain when he entered me wasn't too bad. When he pulled me on top, I really got into it, and unrecognizable sounds started to come out of me. Then I felt a tiny, warm explosion inside. It wasn't a big shuddering lollapalooza like you see in the movies or one of those multiorgasmic things you hear about. Still, it felt good. Maybe it was a mini-orgasm, but it was my first involving a partner, and I felt very proud. The whole thing wasn't nearly the ordeal I had expected.

• • •

I woke up the next morning with the inside of my mouth as dry as sawdust, and a sore head. Webb had stuck around, hogging my twin bed, and I gave him a small kick and told him I felt awful.

“That's the price of tripping on E—you have a sore jaw in the morning.”

“Why didn't anyone tell me there was a price?” I groaned.

“Come on, it's no worse than a hangover, and the trip was a whole lot better than drinking booze, admit it. At least on E, you don't stumble around, get mean, or throw up.”

He got up and went into the bathroom. When he came back, he handed me a glass of tap water. I watched him pull on his jeans and black T-shirt. He had a great body, no doubt about it.

“I wish I could hang around, but I have to split.”

I nodded. I didn't feel like conversation anyway.

“Listen, don't be like Tattie. Don't start mixing E with acid or doing drugs every day. It takes a couple of days before it's totally out of your system,” he cautioned me. “You need to wait and see what happens.”

“What does that mean?” I said sharply, sitting up with the comforter pulled around me.

“It's just that some people get really down afterward. Not everyone. But someone I know did. If you start to feel depressed, that's what's going on. It'll pass.”

“Great,” I mumbled. “As if I'm not depressed already.”

“It probably won't happen. I've never felt down afterward. Lately, I haven't felt much of anything. The first time is always the best, and I've never had the high that I got the first time. I had more fun watching you last night than tripping on it myself.”

I smiled weakly and flopped back on the bed.

Webb took off after saying he'd call me, and it was all I could do to keep from saying “Don't bother.” I was just relieved to have done the deed at last. And I was miserable enough these days without getting involved with bad-boy Webb.

• • •

I hung out with Stella for what was left of the day, waiting to feel better. The tightness in my jaw started to go away, but my depression didn't. I stayed on the sofa, mindlessly channel surfing and unable to get interested in anything.

As the sky darkened, so did my mood. I couldn't stop
thinking about my mother and my situation, and everything seemed hopeless. Last night's revelations had stuck with me, and I couldn't forgive myself for the contemptuous way I had treated her. All the thoughts I had been struggling to keep at bay were on the top of my mind now, and I felt a dull, aching pain as if I had a splinter in my heart.

It started to rain, one of those quick spring showers that douses everything and then is over. Sprawled on the sofa, I stared out at the rain and remembered what I had been avoiding for days—the memory of my mother on that lawn, sobbing and drenched, the night before she disappeared.

• • •

The argument had started when I came home from a night out with Scott and the gang. I was in a bad mood because Scott was pushing me on the whole virginity thing, and I just didn't feel like doing it. I saw immediately that my mother had been waiting for me. For the last few weeks, she had been acting weird.

Her first words were “I need to talk to you. I can't wait any longer.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I perched on the arm of the sofa. “All right, make this quick,” I said. “I'm tired.”

She sat down on the sofa and reached over to take my hands in hers, but I pulled away, bored and ready to resist whatever she had to say.

“Yeah? What?”

“Sweetheart,” she began, and then faltered. “Oh, God, this is too hard. I don't even know how to begin. I must have been
crazy not to see this day would come. Now I don't know what I'm going to do or how to tell you.”

“What's wrong with you? Have you been drinking? Just say what you're gonna say and let me go to bed.”

“You know how much I love you, don't you? More than anything in the world.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said impatiently. “Get to the point. I'm not in the mood for this.”

She stood up and began to pace around the room, talking feverishly without meeting my eyes. “The thing is, I've made some big mistakes and I've managed to put myself in a deep, dark hole. I don't know how to get out of the mess I've created. I feel like my feet are stuck in quicksand and I'm being sucked down. God, I've been so stupid.” She drew a ragged breath and then went on when I didn't say anything. “Money, of course, it's always money. I don't know what's going to happen, but it's going to mean big changes for both of us. I'm sorry, I really am, baby. We just can't go on the way we have. I've put off telling you because I knew how disappointed in me you'd be. That's the worst thing about this, knowing that I've let you down. We're going to have to change our lifestyle, and it's going to be very hard for both of us, but—”

I interrupted this long flow of words. “What do you mean, ‘change our lifestyle'?”

“Well, we can't live this way.” She waved her hands around the room. “You know, spending money like there's no tomorrow. If I can hang on to my job, I should be able to pay your tuition and school bills, but there won't be anything left over for luxuries. To start with, I think you should get a job this summer.”

At that I exploded. “A job? But I'm going to college soon—I want to enjoy my last summer of freedom. I'm supposed to relax and have a good time until I go to Boston.”

“I'm sorry, Ashley, I can't help it. I know this is a big disappointment for you. I know I've let you down. But it will be all right in the end; we'll make it all right. And at least you have this trip to Hawaii. At least this year at school has been fairly easy for you.”

“Easy? I just went through finals, for your information,” I sneered. “Besides, any pennies I could earn wouldn't begin to pay for my clothes. Do you expect me to wear trash or shop at Old Navy? I need some fabulous new things to take to college with me this fall. No sorority will ask me to pledge if I look like a loser.”

“I'm s-sorry, but I'm in trouble,” she stammered. “I wish this weren't happening, but I don't know what to do. Everything's falling apart on me. I don't know what's going to happen. If worse comes to worst, I can put the house up for sale.”

“What? What's wrong with you? How can I come home at Christmas if you sell the house? Have you lost your mind?”

She buried her face in her hands, so I could hardly hear her words. “I'm so sorry. You don't know how sorry I am. But I've made some big mistakes and now I have to pay.”

“What are you talking about,
you
have to pay? It sounds like
I
have to pay. You always said my happiness was the most important thing in your life. How can you do this to me?”

She came over and stood directly in front of me, her eyes boring into mine in desperate appeal. “You have to understand, honey, I can't help it. I wish I could.”

But I was too angry to answer that appeal. “You are pathetic!” I screamed. “I hate you! You are a complete failure as a mother.”