Outtakes Of A Walking Mistake (24 page)

“That’s Jenny,” I tell mom. Frightened, she reaches for Ronald’s hand but grabs the hand of the saleswoman instead.

“What’s wrong,” mom asks me.

“My life,” I reply. “I’ll explain later.”

It’s always later with mom. She and I always seem on the verge of a breakthrough right before a breakdown occurs, preventing us from sorting through our issues.

Speaking of issues, Jenny renews her crazy subscription, circling on her knees when I round the corner. Dodging shards of glass from a broken vanity mirror she appears blind and lost. As I near she points to nothing in particular, talking about him. “He was here,” she tells two bulky security guards. “I saw him. I’m not making it up. I saw him.”

“Who did you see?” asks one of the guards.

“Him. My father....”

The guard asking the questions looks to his beer-bellied partner as if unsure what to do. He speaks into a walkie-talkie as Jenny begins to choke. “Water...” she strains.

“Let me handle this. She’s my friend,” I tell the guards. A handful of customers gather around, soaking up the excitement.

As a lanky girl wearing black leggings takes our picture with her cell phone, I bend down to grab Jenny with both arms. I don’t dare lift though. In fear of a hernia I simply kick away the glass pieces and drag her along the ground. “Don’t move her,” the second guard warns me. “She might be hurt.”

“Please, she’s bullet-proof,” I declare. “She just needs water. Is there a fountain in the store?”

“By the restroom,” a worried saleswoman says, using her long nails to direct me. I fix Jenny’s hair before the girl with the cell phone takes one final picture, allowing us a real paparazzi moment.

Times like this sure do test a friendship. Here I am, pulling Jenny by the clasp of her black bra strap, escorting her through the petites section like a boyfriend, and do I get a thank you? No. Instead, she plops on the tile floor beside the water fountain and expects me to take care of her.

“You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, you’d be licking water from a toilet,” I say, motioning to the ladies room.

Then forming a cup with the palm of my hand, I begin the hydrating process, filling her mouth with water.

Licking her red-lipstick lips, she thanks me, and then seriously, really seriously, asks me if I saw him.

“Your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“I, I think so.” Lies like this help when the truth makes you feel crazy. Lies like this help when the truth is too hard to handle. “But don’t worry about him,” I instruct.

“He wants me home,” she says, slightly trembling. “It was a mistake. That’s what he’ll say. It was all…a mistake. I can come home.”

“No. You’re staying at my house. You don’t have to go home.”

“That’s the crazy part,” she tells me with fear in her eyes. “Sometimes, I think I want to.”

Never break a promise to dad I learn upon my return home. School called. It appears the guidance office alerted him about my absence. At least, that’s what dad says some robot said on the voicemail.

Allowing no room for an explanation dad directs me to my bedroom the instant I walk through the front door, forbidding me to come out unless he tells me otherwise. Dad calls this house arrest. He doesn’t care that I had planned to attend the sneak screening of my student film. For tonight, I’m only allowed freedom when I need to use the bathroom. Besides that, my ass is to be planted firmly on the bed.

So here I am all night with my ear pressed to my bedroom door in my own personal prison. Jenny wants to be my cellmate I overhear her reveal to dad, asking permission to pay me a visit while she constructs wings for her Tinkerbelle costume in the living room. On my third bogus trip to the bathroom, I’m shocked to witness hearing her take the blame for my truancy. “It’s not his fault. I should be locked up, not Tyler,” she informs dad. “Any reputable shrink will tell you that.”

Watching CNN on the leather ottoman, dad dodges the comment by asking if Jenny would like her evening dose of medication. Unraveling a roll of toilet paper to aid in the creation of her fairy wings, Jenny begins whining about the pain the meds are causing.

Then she poses a question. “If the medication is supposed to make me want to live, then why do the side-effects make me want to die?”

On drama overload, dad turns off the TV and heads to the kitchen, muttering something about calling Jenny’s mother in the morning to discuss having the medication reduced. Then he yells for Jenny to hang on while he pours her a glass of prune juice and fixes her pills.

Opening my bedroom door, I take a peek down the hall to view Jenny attempting to attach toilet paper to a wire hanger in her lap. To finish her wings, she casually asks dad if she can borrow a needle and thread. “No sharp objects. Doctor’s orders,” dad calls.

I grow impatient and decide to order a taxi. I’m not about to miss my premiere. So locking my bedroom door I call the first taxi company I find in the directory, hoping for the cheapest rate in Rivershore. “We guarantee a smooth, clean ride,” a lady with a raspy voice tells me on the phone. I state my location and destination but the price I’m quoted is too steep. I can’t afford it. I spent most of my money at the mall. Too bad the bus doesn’t run late. I could afford a dollar. But the price of a taxi – that’s just insane. Oh well, I may be broke but I’m not broken. I will get to the film premiere tonight. Forget about dad. Autographs must be signed. Red carpets must be rolled. And I must be present for the fans.

Spinning out of control, I’m dizzy with the thought of all the praise I’ll receive at the event. Pacing, my warped mind is filled with random thoughts like I want strawberry ice cream, I want media attention, I want Billy, and I want out of this room now. “Let me out!” I scream, banging my fist on the door. I’m not really mad though. I’m just letting dad know I’m still here, and soon, I’ll be worn down and ready for bed. That way he won’t check on me later.

“Keep it down in there,” dad says, from the kitchen.

I follow orders. I keep it zipped but not without reciting a dramatic monologue first. I start with some crap about bidding the moon adieu and then add in a Shakespearean sonnet about lost love before ending with a subtle cry. Then I’m quiet like a gator awaiting his next prey. This is my plan: throw a tantrum and then make dad believe I’ve gone to bed. Too bad I’m going out the window instead. In black jeans and a yellow tee, I buzz through my window like a yellow jacket with an hour to spare before the premiere.

Reaching the lawn, my heart is electrified as the sweet smell of night-blooming jasmine fills my nose. In the distance a motorcycle serenades the stars with its engine as a soft October breeze tickles my neck.

Still, there is the problem of transportation.

And though I know better than to seek the assistance of that troubled boy who has wronged me in the past, I figure desperate times call for desperate measures and I decide to call upon Eric.

I know. I should have learned my lesson about Eric a long time ago. Like the night he told me, “fags fuck, fags don’t have relationships.” That type of statement should have been a clear indication that Eric might not be a very nice person. That maybe, just maybe, he only wants to screw me. Well, maybe I can alter his way of thinking.

Who knows? Maybe I can set an example for him. Through the close observation of my heated, yet totally innocent, interactions with Billy, Eric can witness it is possible for two boys to form a strong attachment without having sex. That is if Billy is prepared to communicate his love for me before a live studio audience.

Reaching Eric’s home, a peach replica of mine, a sign shaped like a black cauldron informs me that I’ve arrived at Witch Brew Boulevard. This prompts me to wonder what ingredients I’ll need in my potion to convince Eric to give me a ride to school. What will place him under my spell?

“Eric, you have a visitor,” his mother drearily announces, answering the door after the third knock. Shoeless with shaggy orange hair, she takes a drag off a black cigarette, leaning against the door in her work uniform: stiff black jeans and a teal tee shirt bearing the name of a burger joint. I figure she must be a former ‘80s hair-band groupie and that her hobbies once included doing somersaults on the hoods of broken down cars.

Sizing me up and down, she asks me to hold on, closing the door on my face. How rude, I think. But then again, I’m not totally surprised. After all, this is the woman who introduced Eric to the world.

Less than two minutes later, Eric opens the door, sweaty and shirtless. Elongating his body, he yawns, scratching the patch of hair surrounding his belly button. “Yeah?” he says.

“I need a favor,” I reply, as a caged parrot inside the house lets out a screech. Yelling for the bird to shut up, Eric gets told ‘you, shut up’ by his mother before joining me outside. Lighting a cigarette, he asks me to proceed talking.

“I need a ride to school. Mr. Dolby is showing the film to friends and family of the cast.”

“Well shit, let me gas up the limo,” he smirks.

“Eric, this means a lot to me.”

“Is that right?” he asks, kicking a brown lizard by his foot. “Why don’t you have Billy take you? He is your boyfriend, right?”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I find myself hypnotized by his hairy chest. I want to caress his milky skin, kiss his tiny nipples, and fall into the sticky mess of being an adolescent boy. But I can’t give in to his allure. No, I must show Eric there is more to life than sex.

Eric snaps his fingers. “I said, is Billy your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, we’re still together,” I tell him. “But I guess you can say we’re experiencing technical difficulties.”

Sucking on his cigarette, Eric surprisingly shows empathy, saying he’s sorry to hear Billy and I are going through shit. “Sucks,” he says. Exhaling a cloud of smoke he scratches his shaved head.

“Yeah, well....”

“Never let ‘em too close,” he mutters. Entering a mini-trance, he’s no longer looking at me but through me. It’s kind of spooky.

“So, can I get that ride?” I ask him.

“Ride, yeah, sure.”

“Cool.”

Twenty minutes later, cool turns into cold when Eric decides to blast the AC in his car at the chilliest degree possible.

“Don’t worry, this will warm you,” he says, massaging my knee. On the classic rock radio station, some guy screams ‘come on, baby, light my fire.’

I pull away. “Come on Eric, just get me to school.”

“Damn ice queen. Don’t have a meltdown. I’ll get you there,” he snaps. “The question is what do I get in return?”

I can’t believe I have to endure this harassment just to get a ride. Just two minutes, I tell myself. Just two minutes and I’ll be at school. Just entertain him long enough for a smooth departure. “How about we listen to another station?” I suggest.

I tap a button on the radio but Eric reacts before the station switches, flicking the radio off.

“You didn’t answer my question. What do I get in return?” he asks. Placing his arm across my headrest, he’s still shirtless and his black spaghetti armpit reeks of sweat. And though I sort of find this hot, I need to save my purity for Billy. Besides, I won’t be had for the price of a car ride.

“Well, how about this...” I begin.

“Yeah?”

“You sir, can have my friendship.”

Disgusted, he growls and turns on the radio, really, really loud. “Hot damn!” he says, turning up some grunge tune. “You need to grow up, kid.” Lighting a cigarette, he refuses to open the window. This is his retribution. If I refuse to blow him he’s going to blow smoke in my face.

“Just let me out,” I tell him, as we arrive a block from school, near the army supply store. Up ahead a streetlight turns from green to yellow. Red in the face, Eric slams on the brakes.

“Fine, get the hell out!” he yells, as we skid to a halt.

I open the passenger door and hear the screech of tire wheels behind us. The scent of burnt rubber pinches my nose as an SUV swerves around us. Still in the car, I can barely contain my anger. I want to smack Eric for being careless but know he’d end up cleaning the street with me. My God, he’s such an ogre. Why do I find him sexy?

“You’re a jerk,” I tell him.

“Yeah and you’re a tease. You and Billy Greske, you’re the same damn thing.”

“Whatever, like you know Billy.”

I step out of the car and a cloud of cigarette smoke follows me into the night. As I wave it away, Eric flicks his cigarette at my back and peels out.

Me, I play it cool. This is just part of the master plan I convince myself. Who cares about door-to-door service? Besides, it’s trendy to arrive to a premiere in an unexpected way. Forget about the limo, I’m unique. “I shall arrive by foot!” I proclaim, pressing forward to campus. It’ll be a totally retro move. The buzz surrounding my entrance will have the fans on their toes. The paparazzi will be relentless. And Billy, he’ll want me and only me. No more verbal disputes. No more secrets. He’ll reveal our love to everyone. And me, I’ll be his fallen star, either landing perfectly in his arms….

Or perfectly on my face.