Seattle Girl (19 page)

“What does it mean if you have all sorts of little pock marks on the inside of your arm?
 
You can’t get acne on your arm can you?”

My trick worked as Diane gasped, “Oh god, I hope not!” turning white and looking horrified as she pushed up her sleeves and examined her smooth skin on the underside of her arms.

Seth slipped off his sunglasses and gave us both a look which said, in no uncertain terms,
You are both complete idiots
.

“Whose arm were they on?”

“Dillon’s,” I replied with utter naivety.

“It means he does heroin.” Seth gave me a pointed look. “And you are so not going to sleep with a guy who does heroin. Honey, I forbid you to even speak to the boy any longer.”

I swallowed quickly, trying to hide my alarm.

Heroin? Holy shit. Those really were some bad people he hung out with. Just like Sandy had tried to warn me. What right did I have to lecture Diane about all of the losers she was dating, when I was hooking up with the biggest ones around?

But, sad to say, I just wasn’t ready to give up on my romantic dreams that fast. Sure, maybe Dillon had done some heroin in his past, but that didn’t mean he was doing it now, did it?

And didn’t they always say that all a guy needed was the love of a good woman to turn himself around. Dillon
needed
me for God’s sake. I couldn’t just walk out on him now, could I?

But do you want to know what the most awful thing about all of this was? I’m almost ashamed to even admit it, but although I was shocked by what I had just learned about Dillon, I was kind of thrilled to be getting involved with such a dangerous guy.

So instead of thanking Seth for his advice, I said, “Thanks for the advice, Dad, but I think I can handle it.” I couldn’t resist a little self-justification, adding, “Besides, maybe he has the marks because he used to do drugs and now he’s clean.”

“Keep dreaming, girl. I hear things at the boy clubs about the hard stuff, and from what I can see, no one ever gets off of smack.”

“Smack?” I asked. “When did you start using words like smack?”

“I think he’s right,” Diane said, turning to me with a serious glint in her eyes. “Dillon sounds way too fucked up for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No offense, Georgia.” She patted my arm. “But maybe you were right about chillin’ on guys for a while.”

I gaped at her. “When did you start using words like chillin’?”

“Seth took me to one of his hip-hop boy bars and I picked up a few things.”

 
“Diane is the perfect fag hag. She was trading beauty secrets with the drag queens all night.”

I laughed at their jokes, but even though I was bound and determined to ignore their advice, a part of me was beginning to think everyone was right.

Seth, Diane, Sandy, the woman who called into Seattle Girl, and the little warning voice in my head that was getting louder and louder. Shit, I’ll bet my mother would have even been right this time.

But then again, how would I know what the outcome would be if I didn’t first give it try?

* * *

The next night, Dillon and I went for a walk on the beach again. I could tell he wanted to be with me, but he was afraid to let himself go. Too afraid to let go of the only world that he knew to jump into the unknown with me.

He kissed me so hard that I hurt from it and then pushed me away from him. “I’m not good enough for you, Georgia. Can’t you see that?”

I looked at him with stars in my eyes, hating that he had just echoed the voice of everyone I’d talked to about him over the past week.

“Don’t say that. We can make this work.”

“I couldn't forgive myself if I brought you into my world.” He kissed me gently. The first gentle kiss he'd ever given me. “I need to go now,” he whispered. “And so do you. Away from me.”

I wanted to run after him. I wanted him to realize that despite the odds, what we could have had might have ended up being great, amazing, perfect. But how was I supposed to know any of that from a couple of kisses?
 
For that matter, how could he?

So I let him go.

* * *

Bill paid me a surprise visit at the bar late the next evening. After what had happened with Dillon the night before, and considering the fact that he hadn’t said two words to me all night, I was thrilled to see my old friend.

Bill nursed a couple of beers until my shift was over and I came out of the back room in my street clothes.

“Hey, there’s the Georgia I’m used to seeing,” he joked.

“What? You didn’t like all the skin?”

He shrugged, but his face started turning red, so I continued to teasing him. “Are you sure you’re really a guy? I thought men ate that kind of stuff up.”

“I’m as much of a man as anyone,” he said. Then he stopped and looked at me, and said, “Did I just say what I think I said?”

I grinned. “You sure did, you manly man, you.”

“Hell, you look great in whatever you’re wearing. You know that.”

I blushed at his compliment. Even though he didn’t really count as a guy, it was still nice to hear that he thought I was pretty.

“Can I take you to get something to eat?”

I rubbed my empty belly. “How’d you know I was starved?”

“The rumbling was getting louder than the slot machines.”

And then, I can’t tell you why, but when we got to the all night burger joint on the water, I started babbling.

“I did the stupidest thing, Bill. I messed around with a guy who’s engaged to be married. And he does drugs. Bad drugs, like heroin. And sometimes I don’t even know what I’m doing here, wearing that outfit, serving drinks to a bunch of losers who are throwing all of their money away gambling. And you know I’ve been working so hard to change who I am to fit in with who I think I’m supposed to be. Do you know what I mean?”

But I didn’t give him any room to reply.

“And you know what else?
 
Sandy was right. Diane was right. Seth was right. Everyone was so god damn right. But do you know what the saddest thing of all is? It’s that even Dillon knew that it would never work out. And I begged him, I practically got down on my fucking hands and knees trying to get him to give us a try.”

“Georgia, I-”

I cut Bill off. “It’s not just Dillon. It’s Steve. And Kyle. Why am I picking these guys? Why can’t I just take my own god damn advice and find someone nice?”

As quickly as the fire had gotten started within me, I ran out of steam. “Sorry,” I said in a quiet, far less manic voice. “I can’t believe I just dumped all of that on you. I mean who cares about my stupid little love affairs.”

“I do, Georgia,” was what he said, but I was too wound up to notice.

I took a deep breath. “Maybe I should forget about men altogether. Until I’ve got my shit together a little more.”

Bill didn’t say anything to that, he just looked at me, his face taking on that resigned look that I had seen so many times before.

Sometimes I’ll walk into a room of strangers and immediately have a sinking feeling that nobody likes me.

It’s like that Tori Amos song where she sings about fingers pointing and wanting to spit in people's face but she's a coward with a bowling ball in her stomach and a dry desert mouth as her courage completely sells out on her.

I often get the sense that she had a troubled childhood. But anyway, what I’m getting at is that given the mood I was in, I knew better than to get involved with anyone that night. Hell, I shouldn’t have even left my house.

* * *

We have to rewind the clock a few years for me to explain this properly. I was eighteen and a freshman in college on the night I met Brian. I was having a small “I’m not pretty enough” crisis, which was only exacerbated by the fact that the minute Diane and I walked into the party it seemed like every guy in the room was eyeing her with longing.

Even though she was well on the way to becoming my new best friend, it didn’t stop me from feeling sort of left out. And, well, ugly. It would never be possible, but just for a night, I wished I could be a perfect Amazon like her. But as I watched her beckon the poor creatures over to her kingdom with just a flick of her eyelashes and a glimpse of her perfectly even white teeth, I knew there was no point in even comparing myself with her.

Thank god she rocked so hard as a friend, because otherwise I would have hated her guts.

Not only that, but the most embarrassing thing in the world was just about to happen to me at that party. Something so awful, that I know I’ll never ever forget it, no matter how hard I try.

If only I had eaten something for dinner. But I hadn’t and I was starved. In a rare show of elegance for a party at UW, there was a buffet table loaded with food against the window. Like hell if I was going to let that go to waste, so I immediately loaded a plate with sushi, pot stickers and satay sticks.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear my mother screaming at me,
What are you doing stuffing yourself like a pig in front of all of these eligible bachelors? A real lady never eats in public!

Feeling a desperate need to spite her, even though she was nothing more than an annoying figment of my imagination at the time, I quickly took several bites of each, until my cheeks were puffed full of food.

“I like a woman who likes to eat.”

I turned around to see who the voice had come from. “You do?” I said, or rather I tried to say it. My mouth was so full of food, the sentence came out sounding more like, “Yoda?”

I half expected the guy to say, “There is no try, there is only do,” but I guess he could understand me just fine because instead he said, “You bet.”

Grabbing a piece of sushi off my plate, he ate it in one gulp and said, “Especially if she likes to share.”

I was chewing and swallowing as fast as I could, but all it was resulting in was a big rice ball in the center of my throat. How embarrassing would it be if I had needed the Heimlich or something? That would shoot me straight to the top of the How Not To Get A Guy To Fall For You list.

And then, oh god thank you, the sticky rice ball finally slid down into my stomach and I could feel my face turning back to its normal color.

Evidently unaware of how close I had been to extreme strangulation, the guy grabbed a wooden satay stick off my plate and bit into a piece of chicken.

I knew this was my chance to say something cute, but frankly my heart was pounding way too much for my liking and I didn’t know how to deal with my over-abundance of nerves. So instead I grabbed my half eaten satay out of his hand.

“Get your own if you like it so much,” I challenged him, sticking a piece of satay into my mouth.

But instead of rising to the bait, he just watched my face intently. “On second thought, I’d rather just watch you eat it.”

I was so surprised by his blatant come on that the chicken got stuck in my throat and I started coughing. My eyes got all watery and I knew my face was turning beet red all over again as I collapsed in half, one hand on my stomach, one hand on my throat.

Oh god I’m going to die the most unsexy death
, was what I thought as I tried desperately to dislodge the chicken.

And then, even though it meant I was going to live after all, my worst nightmare came to life. The cute guy who’s name I didn’t even know yet moved behind me and starting giving me the Heimlich.

You think that’s bad? It gets worse. So much worse.

The piece of chicken shot out of my throat and hit the sliding glass door, whereupon it slid down the pane in excruciatingly slow motion.

Holy shit, I was humiliated and for a moment, death actually looked like it would have been the better choice.

“Are you all right?”

His words were kind, but the budding attraction he had been feeling for me was obviously long gone.

I nodded dejectedly and fought back the tears welling up in my eyes.

I will not cry!

Don’t cry!

Oh Jesus, I’m about to cry
.

Not only had this sexy stranger just witnessed my unsexy hurling, but so had every other person in the room. With as much dignity as I had left—that’d be none, thanks—I whispered, “I’m fine,” making sure to avoid eye contact.

I could feel my lower lip wobbling and knew I had approximately five seconds to get out of the room before I started sobbing and really gave people something to laugh at.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” I said and blindly headed for a hallway, hoping, wishing, praying, that there was a bathroom or empty bedroom to go be humiliated in. A back door wouldn’t hurt either.

I saw the open toilet seat and thanked god, locking the door, falling into a pathetic heap on the floor against the door. Until the party ended, and I could slink out in private, the bathroom was my new home.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I figured it was Diane coming to console me, so I wiped my eyes and clicked open the lock on the knob for her to come in.

But, stupid me, it wasn’t Diane.

It was the guy who had saved my life.

“Georgia?” he asked, kneeling down the floor and tilting up my chin with his fingers.

“How do you know my name?”

He smiled at me. “I asked your friend.”

I couldn’t believe it. This guy, who had just been an integral player in what had to be, hands down, my most unsexy, pathetic moment, had actually made it a point to find out my name. And, while he was at it, he didn’t even fall in love with Diane. Which meant, inexplicably, that somehow he found brunettes who hurled chicken across the room more attractive than model-gorgeous blondes?

It just didn’t compute.

“Wanna get the hell out of here?”

Finally finding my smile, I nodded. “So badly, you can’t even imagine.”

That night, even though I knew that Brian really wasn’t my type, even though I knew that in more normal circumstances, nothing about him would have caught my eye, even though he wasn’t tall, he wasn’t dark, and really, he wasn’t all that handsome, he had saved me.

As close to a knight in shining armor as I could imagine.