My Stupid Girl (11 page)

"Thank you, Grandma." I picked up
the phone and turned it over in my hand.

"Oh, hunny," she patted my hand
clumsily. She’d gone out of her way to solve a problem and keep the peace. It
meant a lot to me. I think that I would have learned a lot from her if I had
been allowed to live with her earlier in my life.

My way of solving problems was simple:
ignore them.

"Don't go and use all your minutes the
first day," she smirked at me over her coffee.

"Oh yeah, calling all my
girlfriends!" I cracked a grin at her. Suddenly the taped-up piece of
paper with Lucy’s phone number seemed to weigh a ton of bricks in my wallet. I
wondered when was too early to call her. When would she start to feel rejected
again? She had made it clear that she was interested in me, and expecting me to
call. I didn't understand why, but I wasn't going to try to talk her out of it.
I just had to figure out when. Waffle-time didn’t seem appropriate.

I also vaguely wondered when I became the
guy who was trying to time first phone calls perfectly.

"David," my grandmother put her
coffee cup down on her kitchen table meaningfully, interrupting my brilliant
planning session, "did I ever tell you about the time we went and got you
from the hospital?"

"No," I straightened up.

"Well, I was at your parent’s house
for dinner that night and the phone rang. I swear to you, it was a loud ring;
it scared each one of us. Your mother went to pick up the phone and she
screamed. Just screamed a loud shriek I’d never heard from her before."

A giant smile spread across my grandma’s
face, like she was remembering something that made her very happy. "We
went running into the kitchen thinking something horrible must have happened.
She was still on the phone, crying and shaking.” Grandma shook her head and
looked down. "She looked at us and said, ‘they have a baby for me; it’s a
boy!’”

"Who had a baby for her?" I
asked, my heart racing.

"The adoption agency. The one Julia
had decided to go with was geared toward teens who couldn’t keep a baby. It was
a place that counseled the teens and gave them options other than
abortion." She was watching me closely.

“So my parents were young?" I asked
her, trying not to act like I cared.

"They were. I only met them the once,
in the hospital."

"You went with my mom to the hospital?
Did my father go?" I was having a hard time breathing. The waffles were
getting a lot of attention. I just knew there were hidden 3D pictures in there
if I could just stare hard enough.

"No, he was at work that day. It was
the middle of the week." She spoke like mentioning him left a bad taste in
her mouth. I could relate.

"I spent the night with your parents
so I could go to the hospital in Billings with your mom the next day," she
started saying, but I interrupted her.

"My birth parents live in
Billings?" I was shocked that no one had ever mentioned that to me.

"Well, I don't know if they do now,
but I assume they did when they were pregnant with you."

Pregnant with me. That was a strange
statement. I never thought about how I had been with my mother before, even if
I was just forming inside of her. She had cared for me at one point, even if
that meant not aborting me.

"Anyway," my grandma continued,
starting to collect our plates as she spoke, “we saw you for the first time in
the baby nursery in the hospital. You were bundled all up and so little. I
think you weighed a little more than five pounds. You were so cute, David. Your
hair was fuzzy and your features were already so strong."

She bent her head and looked at me like a
mother looks at her child, with love and concern. A look I had always craved.
"You were the only one not moving or making a noise, like you didn't want
anyone to notice you."

"So, did you meet them?" I wanted
details. I wanted seventeen years’ worth of details.

"I did.”

"What were they like?" I looked
up at her, not able to keep the desperate tone out of my voice.

"Your mom was beautiful, David. She
had blond hair. She had big dark eyes, sad eyes. She was young, they both were.
Their parents had to sign all the papers for them because they were still
minors."

After a long pause I asked, "What
about my birth father?"

"Your birth father, he was...he looked
sad. He looked like a young boy who had the weight of the world on his
shoulders. He asked that we didn't bring you in the room with us. I don't think
he wanted to see you because he didn't really want to give you up."

Someone had wanted me. I felt like my brain
was going to explode.

"Why did he, then? I mean, if you love
someone can’t you just work it out?" I was frustrated with this person I
didn't know, who had wanted me but not kept me. I had been frustrated with him
my whole life, I think.

My grandma’s face was so sad. "I don't
know, David. I really don't know. He was so young. I think they were fifteen or
sixteen.”

We sat in silence for a minute.

She kept going, speaking slowly, thinking
about every word, “David, I think that it shows great love that he was willing
to give you what he thought was a better life."

The truth of that statement made me mad. It
made me long even more to be with them, someone who loved me so much, they were
willing to give me up.

I wondered what my birth father would have
thought about the guy who’d raised me.

Grandma interrupted my thoughts before they
got too depressing, "Your birth mother named you, did you know that?"
She tried to keep the conversation going, "she wanted us to name you David
Anthony. She said David was her father’s name. She told us that you had his
nose."

I thought about my long narrow nose. It was
strange to think that I looked like someone. I know that sounds crazy, but I
had just never met anyone that I looked like before.

"What about Anthony?" I felt like
I already knew the answer, even as I asked.

"It was your birth father’s name.” I
exhaled heavily. I knew it. She paused for a second, looking off into the
distance, “Anthony is a good name; it means ‘Worthy of Praise.’ I think it’s a
good name for you."

I didn't answer. I never thought much about
my name, or what it meant. I knew I wasn’t currently worthy of praise, given
the spanking I’d received the night before. My frown unfolded into a grin as I
remembered it. Then another question occurred to me.

"What does David mean?"

She smiled. "Friend," she was so
happy to tell me, "your whole name means ‘friend who is worthy of
praise.’"

"Yuck." I was not able to help
myself.

Grandma laughed and put her elbows on the
table. "Yeah, you’re right, sweetheart. Everyone jumps into a frozen lake
of ice to save perfect strangers."

"Ugh, Grandma, please stop."

I really hated the subject of Lucy and the
lake. It was this new dooms cloud that hung over my head. ALL THE TIME.

"Yes, of course. I shouldn't talk
about my amazing grandson and his daring rescue--"

"Stop, please," I interrupted
her, trying hard to make it sound like I was serious. Not joking.

"Ok, ok. Sorry.”

I had more questions as I cleared the table
of dishes.

"What did my dad look like?"

She looked at the ceiling, trying to recall
an old memory.

"He was good looking. Better than
average. Your mom was beautiful, but there was nothing incredibly special about
her beauty. But your father looked like he could have been a child model. I
remember his green eyes more than anything. Same color as yours, I think.” I
instinctively brushed my hair over my eyes.

“I mean I don't see your eyes all that
often, David, but I imagine yours are very similar to his. He had thick black
eye lashes. He was tall. He looked older than sixteen."

Nothing about what she was saying sounded
like anyone that looked like me, except for the green eyes and the thick eye
lashes. I certainly wasn't good looking. When I thought of myself I saw a
drowned Chucky doll with black hair.

She was quiet, and I got busy in the little
kitchen, cleaning up the breakfast remnants. It was so weird to suddenly feel
like I had belonged to someone. Like there were people that I looked like. And
my adopted mother had wanted me. Up until now, I guess I’d never been able to
believe that there was someone who dreamed about me while I was in a uterus. Even
if it hadn’t been my birth mother, there was a real woman out there once who
had wanted me.

There was only one picture of Julia, my
adopted mother, in my father’s house. It was a picture of the two of them when
they were dating. There were no wedding pictures and none of me and her. In the
grand scheme, it didn't matter what she looked like. But I guess since I never
got to know her personally her appearance was all I could identify with,
because that is all that I knew of her.

"Can I be excused?" I remembered
to ask from the kitchen. It was something I had learned within the first day or
so of living with Grandma, that polite people ask to leave a room. Who would
have known?

I could hear the amusement in her voice,
"Yes, dear." She followed me into the kitchen, carrying the remaining
dishes to the sink, where I was finishing up. I put my hand on the back of my
head and stopped to talk to her but I couldn't think of anything to say. At
least, I couldn’t form what I was feeling into words, but I really wanted to
try.

"Grandma, um…" I ummed a little
more. I closed my eyes. I probably looked like it hurt to open them. It almost
did.

"Thanks for, you know…" I looked
down at the towel in my hands and then patted my hair down again. I actually
felt sick, like I was going to throw up.

"Anytime dear.” Her bony hand patted
my shoulder as she left the kitchen.

"Yeah." I stood alone in the
kitchen for a moment, not feeling like I expressed myself the way I wanted.
But, realizing that was the story of my life, I just turned around and went to
my room.

I sat down on my bed, with my new cell
phone in my hand, and pulled out Lucy’s phone number. The sight of the tape-job
cued my breakfast to start crawling back up my throat. What was the big deal? I
had talked to this girl a couple of times, we had even kissed, kind of. 

I opened the phone, then closed it. I had
to figure out why exactly I was calling her. Did I just want to hear her voice
and talk with her, did I want to make plans to see her again? Did I want another
shot at the lighthouse? The answer was yes, to all three. But how do I even do
that? I didn't want to get on the phone and sound like an idiot who had no idea
what he was doing. But there was almost no way to avoid that. I had never
called a girl, ever. Well, I had talked to Michelle a few times on the phone,
but she didn't count.

"Ok man. It’s ok. You can do
this." I was close to actually throwing up, but I fought it. How could one
person be such a wimp? I briefly considered writing a few things down, in case
my mind went totally blank. Then I reasoned that the only thing lamer than
being afraid to call is having a script when I call.

I opened the phone and smoothed out the
crinkled paper. I forced my fingers to dial the numbers. Slowly but surely I
was going to call this stupid girl.

"Hello?" I heard a sing song
voice. I didn't know if it was Lucy or her mom. It sounded young, but more
mature than I was used to.

"Um, can I, ah, talk to Lucy...uh
please?" Classy. I swallowed back waffles and syrup.

"This is her...is this David?"
She sounded hopeful and that made me feel a little better. Until I realized she
was waiting for an answer.

"Hello?" I heard again. She was
puzzled. I was stunning her with brilliance. Silent brilliance. 

"Yes, hi. It’s David. Hi." I am a
smooth operator. Nothing like a good “hi” to knock a girl’s socks off.

"Hey, I am so glad you called me! I
was just thinking of you." Thankfully, she sounded happy, like always. She
had a way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world.

“HA!" Her laugh startled me, "Now
I have your number! Try getting away from me now!"

"Yeah, this is my cell phone
number." That was a sentence I’d never uttered before. Thank you, grandma.

I tried to think of something else to say,
but my mouth was dry. I was sure I had used up all the small talk I had.

"So, whatchadoin'?" She talked
fast. It was hard to understand her. It was almost like she was nervous, too.
Which actually wasn't comforting because I had been counting on her to carry
the conversation.

"Uh, nothing. Just, hanging
out."  Lame. So lame.

"Me too! I'm bored, you sound bored.
Maybe we should be bored together?" The hope in her voice was a surprise
to me, even though it was awesome to hear. I felt the nauseous feeling again. I
wondered for a moment if I might actually be getting sick.

"Y-yeah. Good." I stuttered like
a fool. Good is another brilliant response.

"Great, my house or yours?" Cloth
rustled on the other line, sounding like she was already on her way out the
door.

“Err, my car is kind of… it sucks." I
stood up and opened the window to let in some fresh air.

She laughed, "Yeah, it does. I can
come to you then. I like that drive, it’s like an hour of uninterrupted
music."

"Ah, ok… yeah, ok. Sounds good."
Needed a sign on my forehead that said, “Un-able to talk to beautiful women,
kick me. Kick me now.” By the way, okay is also a winner.

"Well, I'm gunna’ just hop in the car
then." An engine roared to life on the other end of the line.

"Wow, you’re already in the car?"
I gagged a little. What was wrong with me?!

Then I felt it. I was going to throw up.

"Yep, see you in an—“ CLICK.