One Pink Line (8 page)

“When’s Grandma coming home?”

“Should be close to nine, so we have at least two hours to ourselves,” he took a swig of his Bud Light. His legs were stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He was wearing a pair of jeans, flip-flops and a Hawaiian shirt. “I thought maybe we could try and watch Caddyshack again,” he winked.

He and I both had a mutual love for that movie, and I’d learned that reciting some of my favorite lines from the film worked like an aphrodisiac on him. Only our hormones got the best of us every time we’d lie on the couch, turn out the lights and put the movie on, so we’d never been able to watch it together in its entirety.

Our last night alone in his parent’s house was no different.

We were scheduled to leave for our respective colleges during the last week of August. My parents had planned to take me down to Purdue on that Wednesday, and Ethan was driving himself back to Lawrence, Kansas on Friday. Mom gifted me an extended curfew, with Kendra’s prodding, so I could spend Tuesday night with Ethan. Kendra had seen my mood deteriorate over those last couple of weeks, and lent a soft, supportive sisterly shoulder to cry on.

“What if Ethan is the
one,
and us going to different schools destroys our future together?” I asked her through drippy eyes as we sat on the floor of my room, sorting through my clothes one day.

She looked at me with her signature sympathetic smile. “Syd, you are so young, and you’re going to meet so many people in the next few years. If you and Ethan are meant to have a future together, it will happen. And if not, you will find the right person at the right time.”

Kendra was three years ahead of me, and entering her senior year at the University of Illinois. My whole life, I assumed she knew so much more about everything than I did, and imagined that I could never make up that three-year difference. I assumed one day when I was eighty-two, and she was eighty-five, she’d still be able to teach me things. But truth be told, she’d never been in love like me. I’d seen her date numerous guys over the years, some longer than others, but I never saw her emotionally attached to any one of them like I was to Ethan.

“I’ve found the right person, I want to be with Ethan,” I said as drips spun into actual tears.

“Oh, Syd, I know you two love each other, but you’re both so young…”

“I’m eighteen, and you’re only three years older than me, so stop saying I’m so young,” I whined and slumped back against the side of my bed.

She looked like she was trying to find the most sincere words to use. “Okay, well you’re younger than me, and when I was heading off to college, I remember really looking forward to meeting new people. I realize I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time, but not only will you meet other boys at school, you’re going to form new, lifelong best friends.”

“I just don’t want to leave him, it hurts my heart every time I think about him meeting some other girl at school.”

“Well, there’s no sense in creating scenarios before they happen. Aren’t you planning on seeing him for October break?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there you go, that’s less than two months away,” she said, folding a sweater. “Have you two discussed how you’re going to handle the long distance thing?”

I looked at the pile of clothes, which I cared nothing about, and shook my head. Ethan and I hadn’t talked about our future together. Maybe because we were both avoiding the topic.

“Then why don’t you ask him,” she suggested.

“I think I will.”

The Tuesday night before I was scheduled to leave, Ethan and I planned to spend our last night together at Wilson Beach.

“My mom found a condom,” he greeted me with a devilish grin as I got in his car.

“Excuse me?” I choked.

He drove away from my house and headed for the beach, but not before letting out a long sigh.

“Well, let’s just say it found her. Apparently your aversion to Sparky last month didn’t go unnoticed by his keen canine senses, and he went through the trash in the basement, dragged a condom up to the kitchen, and proudly dropped it at my mother’s feet.”

“What?!” I shrieked.

As if Ethan’s mother didn’t already disapprove of my mutt-like religious lineage, she now had to stomach the fact that her son and I were sleeping together, in her marble-laden home nonetheless.

“How could you have left one in the garbage? And what kind of dog digs condoms out of the garbage!?” I asked, appalled.

Ethan was in near hysterics laughing about it. “Mine, I guess.”

I slapped his bicep as hard as I could. “This is not funny, I can no longer show my face there. Seriously, do not ever invite me over to your home again, because I won’t go.”

“Ow! Tell me about it,” he said. “I woke up to a three-page letter outlining the dangers of premarital sex, stapled to a Newsweek article on the rise of teenage pregnancy.”

I buried my head in my hands. “Oh, my God, I am mortified, can you say it wasn’t yours?” I asked, and quickly looked over at him.

“No, it’s done,” he said, trying to contain his amusement. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Easy for you to say,” I said, embarrassed beyond words. My mother would have literally collapsed and lost the ability to breathe air into her lungs had she known.

“Sorry,” he snorted one last chuckle. “Let’s not let it ruin our last night.”

We arrived at the beach equipped with four Amstel Lights from his parent’s garage fridge, a bag of Cheetos, and two oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

“Okay, Miss College Girl,” he said, and raised his bottle. “Here’s to you and the freshman fifteen, I hope you gain it all in your chest.”

“Thanks,” I said, embarrassed.

“I’m kidding, even if you come back with a fat ass, I will still worship it.”

I burst into tears.

“Syd, you know I’m teasing.”

I nodded.

“Come here, girl,” he said and scooped me up onto his lap. “Shhhh, don’t get all weepy on me, we’re not breaking up, just apart.”

Through a parade of sniffles and snot, I made myself speak. “I’m so scared of what’s going to happen to us, I don’t want to leave you, and I don’t want to go.” I sounded five years old. “What’s going to happen to our relationship?”

He squeezed me tight. “You have nothing to worry about, you’re going to have a great time, meet new people, and we’re solid, so don’t sweat it.”

“I’m so tired of hearing that I’ll meet new people. I don’t want new people, I’m happy with my old people.”

He laughed.

“It’s not funny,” I said in a tone that now sounded like I’d regressed to age three.

Ethan turned my chin toward his face. “You are going to want to meet new people, and whether you like it or not, they are going to want to meet you. Girls and boys,” he looked away for a second. “And I don’t want you to feel like you can’t go out with other people, or feel like our relationship is holding you back in any way.”

“You just assured me that we’re not breaking up.”

“We’re not, but I want you to know that you should do whatever you want to do, Syd. You only have one shot at this, and I don’t want you to regret anything, especially on my account,” he said and rubbed my back.

I was tugging at the ends of my hair, wishing Father Time would freeze and I never had to leave that beach. I had no way of knowing what college would be like for me, but I felt like he was trying to let me down easy, and lessen the blow when he’d want nothing more to do with me in a month. All I wanted was to get through my freshman year with passing grades, and see Ethan whenever possible.

“I see you wore the necklace,” he noticed, and gently elevated the strand of charcoal pearls from the skin on my neck.

“I barely take it off.”

“I’m happy you like them.”

“I love them, and you.”

Ethan wiped my tears with the back of his hand and gave me a kiss. “Here, maybe this will make you feel better,” he said and handed me another black velvet box, much smaller than the one that housed the pearls.

My jaw opened slowly as I reached for it. “Oh, my God, Ethan.”

He smiled and urged me to open it. “Go ahead, I know you’re going to love it.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just open it, and then ‘thank you’ I imagine, would be the appropriate response.”

I opened the box and there was a single, chocolate covered, Double Stuff Oreo in the center of the box.

Ethan kissed my forehead. “I love you too, Syd.”

I gave him a hug. “Your dog’s a piece of shit.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

grace

S
itting in the nurse’s office, waiting for my mom to formulate her words, my mind wandered to happier, more secure times, like celebrating my mom’s birthday. the week before. My dad was always finding creative ways to surprise her, and that year he’d decided to get her a cat for her birthday She loved cats, and I’d begged her for one, but she knew my dad wasn’t crazy about them, so she’d always told Patch and I that Dad was allergic.

“But you’re allergic to cats,” I cautioned him, when he started to tell me of his plan.

“No I’m not,” he looked at me like I was crazy.

“Mom says you are,” I said with smug, childlike expertise.

Patch nodded in agreement.

“She must say that because I don’t actually want a cat in the house,” he told us. “But I want her to have one.”

So the night of Mom’s birthday, my aunt came over to stay with us while my parents went out to dinner. Once they’d pulled out of the driveway, my aunt hurried us into the garage.

“Come help me unload everything!” she squealed with excitement. In the back seat of her car was a litter box, a case of cat food, a vented pooper scooper, two bags of kitty litter and about a dozen furry toys shaped like mice and miniature potato sacks. In the front seat of her car sat a white cardboard box with holes on the side and a handle on top. It was shifting back and forth on its own when I craned my neck to look at it.

“Where’s the kitty?” Patch asked loudly.

“In the cage, sweetie,” my aunt told him.

Patch eyed the floor of her car. “Where’s the cage?”

“It’s in the front seat, I’ll get it,” she said and lugged the cardboard cage into the house. “Your mom thinks daddy is taking her on a vacation this weekend, and that I’m staying with you two, so we’re going to put the cats in a suitcase and surprise her when she gets home,” she said to us.

“Cats?” I asked.

“Yes, there are two kittens in here.”

Wow, all she ever wanted was one cat, and my dad, who hates cats went and bought her two.

“What if she’d rather have the vacation?” I asked.

My aunt shot me a dirty look. “Just please go and get me their largest bag, okay, Grace?”

I ran back up from the basement with an oversized suitcase, the one Patch and I were forced to share anytime we traveled.

“Perfect, Grace, thank you,” she took the bag from me. “We don’t have much time to set this all up, play with them, feed them, and then get them zipped into this thing.”

I watched her frantically search for bowls to put their food and water in.

“Why are they coming home if she thinks they’re going on vacation?” I questioned.

She was examining two bright blue dishes that Mom used for Patch’s Goldfish crackers. “I don’t know, your dad has some story planned.”

About an hour later, my aunt’s cell phone rang.

“Okay, we’re ready,” I heard her say, then hang up. “Help me get them in the suitcase, they’re almost home!”

We laid a beach towel in the bottom of the bag, and placed the two tabby grey kittens inside. Once they were nestled, my aunt tied a pink ribbon around each of their necks, and they both curled up on the towel with no interest in ever leaving that suitcase. As soon as my parents’ car pulled in the driveway, we zipped it up and sat at the bottom of the stairs in the front foyer.

My mom walked in, saw the suitcase, then looked at my dad. “I knew it!” she said, and smacked his arm. She looked back at us, as if to say goodbye, or ask if we packed for her, and my aunt slowly unzipped the bag and revealed the two tiny fur balls.