Speed of Life (19 page)

“Thanks, babe!” she says. I can't help but be impressed when she grabs the burning tray with her hands of steel and walks off, yelling at some customer to “get off the goddamned table!” My palms are red just from touching the plastic for one second.

I expect Amber to pull herself together, ​but when I look over at her, she's crumpled onto the floor, sobbing into a striped dishtowel. The waitress shoves more glasses through the window, and I grab a plastic apron off a hook by the door and get to work. I've helped Amber tons of times, mostly before Natalie was born. I'd come in and we'd work together double time so we could get out of here and go party. I fall into the routine easily enough, and the next time Ruby yells for glasses, they're ready.

“Thanks, Ambie Pambie,” she says to me, not even realizing we've traded places.

Eventually, Amber stops crying. I may look like a cold-hearted bitch for leaving her on the floor like that, but neither one of us likes to be comforted. It's too embarrassing. Me doing the dishes is cool, though. She sees I've got it under control and goes out, probably to wash the mascara off her face.

A few minutes later, Amber comes back with an order of onion rings and two root beers. I've kept up pretty well with the dishes, and the kitchen's closed now, so there'll be a lull for a little bit before we have to do all the end-of-night glasses and stuff.

We stand there with the plastic basket of onion rings between us on the stainless-steel counter, eating but not talking. After a while, Amber goes to refill our pop glasses, and when she sets them down again, she's ready to tell me what happened.

“I didn't mean to drop out,” she says. “I just . . . without you riding my ass all the time and checking my homework, I got behind.”

I nod.

“And I missed a couple of tests . . . I slept in two days in a row. It was like I was in this stupid hole and I didn't know how to get out.”

I pick at an onion ring, not looking at her so she'll keep talking.

“I tried to make a chart like you always do for me,” she says, “but . . . oh, screw it. I'm a loser and we both know it. I never would've gotten this far without you.”

“That's totally not true,” I say. It kind of is, but only the part about me helping her get organized. She's not good at that. Also, unless it's numbers or something physical, like this job or taking care of Nat, she can't make herself care very much. I can see tears glistening in her eyes again, so I look away and rush on. “How long ago did you drop out?”

“Two weeks, I guess. It was right after you got your financial aid. But that's not why. I was way behind already, and I couldn't take it anymore, the looks from my teachers and stuff.”

“Did you officially quit, like go into the office and sign the papers, or did you just stop going to class?”

Amber looks up at me, surprise in her wet eyes. “You mean you have to sign papers to drop out?”

“I think so. Otherwise they just think you're skipping.”

She shakes her head, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth. “God. I'm such a fuck-up. I can't even drop out of high school right.” And then she starts laughing. Her shoulders are shaking, and it's totally contagious and I crack up too. We laugh until we're gasping for breath, tears streaming down our faces.

We're standing there still shaking with laughter when Brad comes in with a pile of baking sheets and pots for Amber to wash. “Okay, you two. Break it up, you slackers.” He's smiling at us, though.

“Bite me,” Amber says, laughing harder, and he shakes his hair-netted head and goes back to the kitchen.

We spend the next hour and a half working side by side like the old days. Instead of talking about our future and the apartment we're going to get together, we plan a way for Amber to graduate. I'm going to go with her to talk to her teachers, and if that doesn't work, we'll get Ms. Spellerman on our side.

“We still have three weeks until finals,” I say. “You can do it.”

“Maybe if you help me.”

I squeeze her shoulder. “Promise.”

I know Amber thinks I've let her down by wanting to change our plans, but I've got her back this time. When I get my diploma, she's gonna be right there beside me. And who knows what will happen after that?

A man in a suit ducks between us. “Sorry,” he says, stepping out of the way.

Mom holds up the digital camera she borrowed from Aunt Pearl. “Now one with the baby.”

Nat seems less like a baby every day. Tomorrow's her first birthday, but today's our day, and Gil hands her to Amber. I adjust my sister's graduation gown when it rides up under Natalie's diapered butt, and then I put one arm around Amber and we lean our heads together, our caps meeting in the middle. Right when Mom snaps the picture, Nat grabs my tassel and yanks, and we all laugh as the cap flies off. I hope Mom got that shot.

I had the cap bobby-pinned on during the ceremony, but I pulled it loose right afterward so me and Amber could pretend to throw them in the air for pictures. There was no way we'd really toss them, though. It's against school rules and they're frickin' Nazis about it. Apparently they're afraid someone will get their eye poked out and there'll be a lawsuit. They told us if we throw them, they're holding our diplomas, which I don't really think they can do, but at this point we aren't taking any chances.

I rescue my cap from Natalie's grip of steel, rest it on her head, and Mom takes some more pictures. Then she gets one of me and Amber with Han, and he takes some of us with Nat, Mom, and Gil.

Gil's holding Natalie, and he says, “Say Papa! Pa-pa! Nat, say Papa!”

He's been going on like this for days, claiming Natalie can talk and her first word was “Papa.” Apparently this happened when he was watching her and I was in the shower getting ready for work. No one else has heard her say it, though, and when I point out that he's her grandpa, not her papa, he tells me the whole word's too hard to say so they're starting small.

“Okay, smile,” Han tells us.

“Pa-pa!” Nat says.

“I told you!” Gil crows.

He raises Nat in the air, and she yells, “Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa!”

He nuzzles the side of her neck, and she screeches with laughter. I hope Han gets some good pictures of them because I don't think I've ever seen him look so proud. I can't believe Mom and Gil are here at a school function, but they are. Mom's even wearing real shoes instead of slippers or dollar store flip-flops. And Gil has done something to what's left of his hair with styling gel. At least, we hope that's what he used. It could be Crisco.

We take one more picture where me and Amber hold up our empty diploma covers—​they're going to mail us the real thing in a few weeks—​and then we go with Han to wait in the cap-and-gown return line. I guess you have to buy them at most schools, but here they let us rent them, or else no one would come to graduation. The students at our school don't have money for stuff you only wear once.

“How come you didn't tell us you were getting an award?” Han asks me, smirking.

“I didn't know,” I say. “If I did, I wouldn't have come. That was so lame.”

Amber takes the framed certificate from me and examines it as we walk. “It
is
pretty geeky to miss less than fifty days in four whole years.”

I couldn't believe it when they called my name. Me and two other dorks. When we were standing up there on the stage, my face probably as red as my hair, one of the guys told me that at other schools the award's for missing less than five days in all four years, but at Sacajawea they have to add a zero to the five in order to find anyone to give the award to. I don't know how this guy knew that, but he looked like the kind of nerd who would, so I totally believe him. I bet they don't do stupid shit like this at college.

I try to shake off the thought of college, telling myself not to think about that now. We have a party to go to. Gil knows someone who works at the VFW hall as a cleaner, and since graduation's on a Wednesday and not a weekend, he was able to get a discount on the rental. We're the first girls in our whole family to graduate. All my aunts chipped in to throw us a bash. We're making the room do double duty by having Natalie's birthday party at the same time.

After we turn in our rented clothes, we all pile into the Mustang and head for the hall. Since we only got four tickets between us, none of our other family came for the ceremony, and the party's already going strong when we get there. Inside the door is a table with a few gift bags for me and Amber on one end, but it's mostly piled high with colorful packages for the birthday girl.

There's a banner on one wall that says
BABY'S FIRST BIRTHDAY!
and another one below it with
CONGRATS, GRADS!
in rainbow colors. Someone's used a Sharpie to add an
s
to the end of “grad” to make it plural. In the kitchen, our aunts put out tons of food from the bakery, and while we're all checking out Natalie's cake, Gil's brother, Tom, comes in with a stack of pizzas. Gil's right behind him with Jade's boyfriend and a couple of other guys I don't know, all carrying cases of beer and pop.

One of the advantages to the VFW hall is that it's in our neighborhood. We don't have to worry about anyone driving drunk because they can all stumble home. That and the fact that me, Aunt Ruby, and Jade's boyfriend are the only ones with cars anyway.

A couple of hours later, Han shows up. He had to go do the whole family thing with his parents before they'd let him come over here. Natalie's ripping paper off her presents—​or more accurately, her cousins are “helping” her open the gifts while she chews on a bow. I can see that getting Nat's new dolly away from Lapis is gonna be a big problem later when it's time to go, but I decide not to worry about it now.

Han gives Natalie a pair of tiny silver starfish earrings for her birthday, which is really nice. She can keep them forever. They're babyproof ones, too, so we don't have to worry about her getting them out and choking or anything.

I considered inviting David, but then I chickened out. His mom and dad rented a banquet room at a hotel for his graduation party last weekend. Luckily, I had to work, so even though he sent me an engraved invitation, I didn't have to go. I gave him a used book on hot rods last weekend, and he got me a brand-new one on the history of Mustangs, and that was our big celebration.

Around eight, Jimmy and Betty stop by, and Jimmy gives me two presents. The first one is a joke: a can of Bondo, the putty you use to fix dents. He tells me he got it to remind me I don't need no “stinkin' college education” because aside from him, I'm the best body guy he knows. Sometimes I think I'm the son he never had.

The second gift is super heavy, and I think I know what it is before I open it. I pull off the classifieds he used for wrapping paper and find a red toolbox full of some really top-notch tools. “Wow! Thanks.” I give him an awkward hug, maybe our first one ever, and I feel kinda teary, but then Betty chimes in with her usual chintziness.

“He won that at a car show a couple of weeks ago. I thought we should sell it on eBay, but the shipping would've been way too much for anyone to buy it.”

Jimmy scowls, and I rush to cover her rudeness. “I'm happy to have it. Thanks.”

“I knew you'd appreciate it,” Jimmy says, giving his wife the look of death. Mercifully, Gil stumbles over at that moment, holding out a beer to Jimmy, who takes it and downs half of it in one swig.

By the time Natalie pounds her fists into her cake and everyone gets more pictures than we'll ever need, I'm beat. I find Amber washing frosting out of her hair in the kitchen. “Do you think everyone's drunk enough that we can leave and they won't notice?”

“Probably.”

We consider sneaking out, but that's hard to do with an almost-one-year-old who's hopped up on sugar, especially when we have a load of presents we need to pry out of her cousins' hands. It takes an hour before we finally get out of there. By the time we do, I'm ready to drop.

Once Nat's in her car seat, she zonks out before I've even gotten her all the way buckled in. I slide into the driver's seat and we sit there in silence, letting the stillness wrap itself around us like a soothing blanket. I start to turn the key, and then I stop.

“Amber?”

“Yeah?”

“If I turn on this car and the radio's blasting, I will have to kill you. High school graduate or not.”

She laughs and reaches for the knob, turning it all the way to the left until it clicks off.

“Good call,” I say.

Later, Natalie's had a bath and is in her crib, and me and Amber are slumped on the couch, vegging out in front of the TV. A Hallmark commercial comes on, showing a bunch of “special graduation moments,” and Amber reaches over and grabs my hand.

“We did it. Thanks, Crys.”

“No problem.” Then I laugh. “Well, maybe a few problems. But we made it.”

The commercial ends, and in that split second of silence before the next one starts, Amber says, “If you promise we can come back in four years, I'll go to Kansas with you.”

I wrap my arms around my sister and hug her hard. “I promise.”

This is officially the best day of my life.

One of the things on the list of stuff to bring to college is a computer. I call Han and tell him I need his help.

“What kind do you want?”

“A laptop. Something cheap,” I say. “And new. I don't want a used piece of shit. It has to last me for all of college.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Really?”

“No, I'm kidding. Kind of. I'll find you something that'll last at least a couple of years.”

“Cool.”