Punk Like Me (31 page)

Eventually, awareness of the world Þ ltered back in, and I was conscious Þ rst of the gentleness of Samantha’s mouth on mine, then of the awareness that it was Samantha. Our kiss ended gently, reluctantly, and I leaned back a bit to look at Samantha with new eyes and new awareness. The simple, gentle kiss we had just shared had shaken me to the core, more than anything else I’d ever experienced, including the last few days. I was very unprepared for that—I’d been overwhelmed again.

“Samantha,” I said softly, “I don’t…I didn’t know before, and now…” I sighed and looked down at our still joined hands. My mind was swirling, nothing made sense, everything was out of place, and the only thing that seemed solid and still was Samantha, but that was confusing, too. I looked back at Samantha and shrugged, letting my confusion show on my face.

“Nina, it’s all right,” Samantha answered my mute question.

“You’re not ready for this yet and,” she paused and smiled ruefully to herself, “neither am I, really.”

I nodded slightly and absorbed what she had said. I was still dazed from what she had said just before and by what had just happened. “I’m sorry, Sam,” I whispered, and squeezed her hand, trying to tell her with

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my skin, through the intensity of touch, how I felt.

“Don’t be,” Samantha said, and returned the squeeze. “We have the rest of our lives to work this out.” She kissed my hand, then put it down and released it with a little pat. “I better get you home.” She smiled, then put on her seat belt and started the motor.

“Yeah,” I sighed, “good idea.” I shifted in my seat and put on my own seat belt.

We pulled out of the space and were off, arriving at the corner of my block seconds later. Samantha pulled into an available space and let the engine idle.

Removing my seat belt, I reached over the seat behind me and hauled my bag over it, settling it on the seat. “Sam,” I touched her shoulder, “thanks.”

Samantha looked back at me with big shining eyes. “You’re always welcome,” she said softly, and gave me a lopsided grin. We just watched each other and I couldn’t bear it anymore—the look on her face that told me so strongly she was trying so hard not to cry.

Impulsively, I leaned over and put my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Thank you for everything, Sam, Samantha, Sammy Blade,” I whispered Þ ercely. “Thank you for your friendship and your wonderful, noble heart. Thank you just for being,” I told her as I held her close.

Samantha returned my hug with honest strength and intensity.

“No, Nina, thank you, for just being,” she whispered intently in return.

“Remember, always, always, I will be right here for you, just like you’ve been for me, no matter what happens, no matter where you are, no matter where I am. Always, Nina, always.” We held each other a little longer, sealing our pledge. Then Þ nally, as if we were physically spent, we released each other.

“Have a good night, Sam.” I smiled at her as I looped my bag over my shoulder and opened the door.

“Have a good night, Nina.” She smiled back at me, and I closed the door. I made my way to the front door.

“Hey, Nina?” Samantha called from her car. I stopped and turned.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll take you driving Saturday, after detention, okay?”

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“Cool! Thanks, Sam!” I smiled and waved. “Good night!” Samantha watched as I got to the door, and when I opened it, I turned to wave at her to let her know I was okay. She waved back, then gunned the motor, pulling out in not quite as spectacular a show as she could, but with enough ß air to impress any of the neighbors that might be watching, and hey, in a neighborhood like mine, someone usually did.

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I stepped into the house and put my bag on the ß oor while Ringo trotted up to greet me. After I scratched his head and ears, I took my coat off and hung it behind the door. “Hello!” I called into the house. “I’m home! We won!”

No one answered. That was really strange. I walked to the stairs and looked up—no lights on up there. I walked back through the living room, back to the kitchen, passing the dining table on the way. No note on the table, nothing on the fridge, nothing on the stove, either. Nobody had had dinner, it seemed. How bizarre.

I opened the door to the fridge and got out some milk, setting it aside on the counter. I rooted around a bit, looking for something to eat.

I collected items. Okay, eggs, frozen broccoli, cheese. This would be decent enough. I poured myself a glass of milk and got out the tools I needed to make my supper.

Everything together, it struck me—I hadn’t called Joey in a few days; he was probably a crazy man by now. Well, I had to talk with him anyway. I Þ nally remembered that I was still annoyed with him over the whole gossip with Robbie. This weird thing we had between us had gone on for too long and had gone too far, and it had to end; I couldn’t handle another human being.

Okay—there was no time like the present. I grabbed the phone and dialed, then held it between my cheek and shoulder while it rang, so I could make myself dinner.

“Hello?” someone Þ nally answered.

“Hi, this is Nina Boyd. May I speak with Joey, please?” Joey had younger brothers and sisters, and I couldn’t tell any of their voices apart, except for the youngest one, who still had a baby voice.

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“Sure, Nina, no problem,” one of his siblings answered, then dropped the phone. “Joey!” I could hear them yell, “it’s Nina!”

“I’ve got it!” Joey called out. “Hey, Nina? How you doing?”

“Hey, Joey. Doing Þ ne. Just got in from my meet. What’s up with you?”

“You know, the usual stuff. I really missed you, I’m glad you called,” he said, and we heard a little giggle on the line.

“Wait a sec,” he told me, and I heard him put the phone away from his mouth.

“Hang it up over there!” he called out, and the giggle was louder.

“I hear you! Hang it up, dammit!” He brought his mouth back to the phone. “Did you hear the click?”

“No,” I answered, amused. I had to go through the same thing too, with my younger sister, “no click yet.”

“Just a sec.” He sighed heavily, and I heard him put the phone down this time. “I’m coming to get you, and when I do…” A shriek and a few giggles came back into the phone, followed by the sound of a hasty hang-up. Joey was back on the phone two seconds later.

“They hang up yet?” he asked with slight annoyance, not that I blamed him.

“Yeah, they’re gone.” I laughed. “They’re probably going to play with your stereo now.”

Okay, now was the time. I took a deep breath and steeled myself.

I didn’t want to hurt him, he really wasn’t a bad person, but I wasn’t comfortable with some things he seemed to think were okay.

Not to mention the fact that I think I was dating or something one of my best friends and had discovered an interest from another—but that really wasn’t the point right now. We didn’t belong together, and I knew it, and I didn’t want to let this drag out either. That would just make it worse in the end, I knew that much.

“Joey, I have to…I need…” I paused to get this right. My words wouldn’t come out right. “Joey, I can’t date you anymore.” There, I’d said it. I let out my breath.

Silence.

“What?” Joey was incredulous.

“We can’t go out anymore.” I clariÞ ed, “We can still hang out and be—”

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“You’re not doing this because of the Jack and Kerry thing, are you?”

I’d been going to discuss the gossip thing and the forcibly carrying me at the train station, as well as his grabbing my arm, but his question stopped me cold. What Jack and Kerry thing? What did I miss this time? My brain was pinging again, but this time the alarm was neither soft nor gentle. I had a full Þ ve-alarm alert blazing in there. “What are you talking about? What Jack and Kerry thing?”

“Kerry and Jack, they…” he paused. “Kerry didn’t tell you?” I didn’t answer. I let the silence Þ ll until he spoke again. His words had my full attention, and I suspected that blazing red alert in my brain might soon become a call to arms.

“Well, it’s all okay now, at least I think it is,” he said. “Are you sure Kerry didn’t tell you already? You guys are always talking about stuff.” He said the last a little resentfully.

“I’m sure,” I told him ß atly. “What happened?”

“I just want you to know that I would never do anything like that, and if that’s why you’re breaking up with me then don’t, because I really love you and respect you,” he rushed out, but this time I interrupted.

“What. Happened?” I asked again, enunciating each word. “Tell me or don’t tell me, Joey, but don’t fuck around, okay? The point?” That was probably harsher than it should have been, but I was getting irritated and not just a little scared. I knew, I just knew, that not only was I not going to like this, but it was going to affect me somehow. I just wanted to get it over with.

“Okay, okay,” Joey attempted to calm me. “Here it is…” and I could hear him inhale in preparation.

“After you guys went to CBGB’s on Sunday, do you remember?” Yeah, like I was ever going to forget that Sunday. What a fuckin’

day that had been, probably the most memorable of my life next to the day that followed it. Not that I was going to mention that to Joey.

“Yeah?” I answered, omitting the other stuff. “What about it?”

“Well, Kerry called Jack, you know? And he, like, went over to, like, visit, and her parents weren’t home?” He paused.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Cut to the chase, boy, I thought impatiently.

“Uh-huh,” I answered instead, and ß ipped my eggs-cheese-broccoli combo in the pan so it wouldn’t burn. I was starving. Again. Big surprise, I know, but hey, I was growing!

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Joey took another breath, then started again. “So, Kerry was going to break up with him, and he didn’t want that, so they got into this really big argument and…”

Okay, I’ll cut to the chase for you. I can’t stand the way he delivered the story, and the story went like this.

Apparently, during the aborted breakup attempt and argument, things got a little crazy and then suddenly things turned, um, very friendly. Anyhow, one way or another—Joey wasn’t very clear as to whether this was during the argument, after, or because of it—“and then it just sort of happened, before it could be stopped, Jack told me,” Joey Þ nished, “so if that’s why you’re breaking up with me, you just can’t, because that’s not me, and besides, Jack’s really sorry about the whole thing.”

I was stunned. On the one hand, one friend of mine was either a rapist or an idiot, a victim of circumstance, as it were, and I could empathize with that. On the other hand, the friend that I was close to, the one I’d actually been intimate with, was either a liar or a victim.

This was way too fucking much, just too fucking much for one day. I was going to eat my fucking dinner, do my fucking homework, and just go to bed. I didn’t even care where everyone was. This was enough. Game over. I was taking my ball and going home. I was starting to realize why so many adult “role models” drank—I needed a drink myself.

“Nina?” Joey inquired. I’d been silent this whole time.

“Yeah, Joey? Aw, shit!” I’d forgotten the omelet I’d been making for myself, and it kindly reminded me of its existence by starting to smolder. I shut off the burner and removed the pan, still cradling the phone between my head and shoulder. I found an empty plate and dumped the sorry mess I’d created into it. Well, at least it was only a little brown. I’d drink a lot of milk to kill the burnt taste.

“So, are we okay now?”

I threw the pan into the sink with a crash I was sure he could hear over the phone. “No, we’re not okay the way you think,” I answered with controlled anger. “I can’t date you anymore. My reasons have nothing to do with Kerry and or Jack. They can fuck themselves or each other, I don’t fuckin’ care.” I was Þ nally able to hold the phone with a hand instead of my shoulder and, plate in hand, made my way to the table.

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“I was sick yesterday, I’m taking shit at home, shit at school, I had a fuckin’ meet from hell today, I’ve got fuckin’ exams to take, I’m supposed to be trying to get into the fuckin’ service academies, my grades are suffering, I’ve got no fuckin’ time to spare to date, and you were so damn worried about what Kerry and I talk about and how I feel about the Kerry-Jack stuff you just told me, that you were too fuckin’

afraid to call me and ask me—kinda like you told people we’re getting married next summer or some shit, and you didn’t even bother to ask me about that, either!” I exploded and Joey got hit with the burst. I set my plate down on the table with a thud.

Joey was silent for a bit. “Nina, sweetheart…” he started, then stopped. What could he say?

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Joey, but I can’t, I just can’t right now, and I don’t know when,” if ever, I mentally added, then continued, “and this has nothing to do with what you just told me.” He sighed heavily. “Are you sure?” he asked me. “I love you so much,” and his voice was so sad, I felt like the most horrible person on earth. But he wanted my love, not my sympathy, and I had the one, but not the other. It wouldn’t help either of us.

“I’m sorry, Joey, I’m sure.”

“Can I…can I call you sometime?” he asked in a choked voice.

Yes, it’s true, I was a Þ rst-class bitch. But it would have been crueler to pretend something that just wasn’t true. I still tell myself that.

“Yeah, of course,” I said softly. “I do care about you. I want us to still be friends, really.” I meant that sincerely. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just wasn’t for me, and I wished he could understand that in a way that didn’t hurt.

“Okay.” He sighed again. “I’ll let you go now. Good night, Nina.”

“Good night, Joey. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied softly, “me too,” and we both hung up.