The Snowball Effect (19 page)

We took our snowballs and carried them to the car. He put his snowball in the cup holder and we drove back to his place.

“Please take a bite,” I said.

He shook his head. “Can't eat and drive.”

“You're just wasting time.”

“I'll take a bite when we get home.”

The longer he waited, the more nervous I got. He was going to hate it.

When we got back to Eric's place, he mixed the snowball together and then took a bite.

“Well?” I asked. But his face told me it was not going to stop the world. At least not in a good way.

“Way too sweet,” he said. “Way too rich.”

“Take another bite.”

He did and then pushed the cup away.

“No, I can't even eat this. I must have been ready to go into a diabetic coma that day if I thought something this sweet tasted that good.”

I sat down on the bed. “I'm sorry.”

Eric smiled and rubbed my shoulder. “It's just a snowball.”

“But I ruined your memory.”

“No, you didn't,” he said.

I held out my raspberry. “Trade?”

He kissed me on the cheek and we traded snowballs.

“You just can't go back and expect your mind to be blown by the same thing every time,” he said. “Life doesn't work that way.”

“Then why didn't you try a new flavor every day?” I asked. “You said you always got raspberry.”

He thought about it for a moment. “Well, there's
something to be said for consistency. Monogamy, if you will.”

“But consistency doesn't blow your mind.”

“No, it doesn't.”

“It's boring to do the same thing over and over.”

“Yeah, but it's safe.”

“It's more fun to be different.”

“It is.” Eric grinned at me. “You don't know until you try, right?”

 

My cell phone rang that night just as I was trying to put Collin to bed. I reached for it, and Collin bolted for his room.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hi, is this Lainey?” A girl's voice.

“Yeah, who's this?”

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she said. “I had a great time with Riley tonight.” I heard giggling in the background. Then she hung up.

V
allery and I sat on the couch at six o'clock on Saturday looking down at our legs. Mabel had begged us to let her keep Collin overnight. It was sweet how she did us a favor but made it seem like we were doing her one. It made me feel bad for all the times I'd silently mocked her Basket Bingo nights. As a result of Mabel keeping Collin, Vallery and I had no idea what to do with ourselves.

“Margaritas?” Vallery suggested.

“Absolutely not.”

“What do you want to do, then?”

I shrugged. “We could go out to dinner.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That would be nice. What did you have in mind?”

“We could go to José Yummy's.”

“What the hell is José Yummy's?”

“It's this Mexican place. I've been wanting to try it out.”

“I didn't think you liked Mexican food.”

“It's supposed to be really good. I'll pay.”

“How do you have any money?”

“I don't give you
everything
. I keep gas money.”

“And taco money.”

“Do you want to go, or not?”

“Fine.”

 

Vallery grabbed my arm as we walked in. “Oh my God. They're freaking me out,” she said.

I stopped walking. Three girls stood behind the counter. I didn't want to get too close, just in case. “Who?”

“The peppers.”

“What?” I asked. I tried to read the name tags of the girls behind the counter, but we were too far away.

She pointed at the wall. “The peppers have faces. And they're wearing sombreros.”

“Get over it,” I said. “They won't hurt you.”

And then I saw her there behind the counter in her green T-shirt and white apron. It was the handbag kiosk girl. Awful remedial math class girl! It was her. She was Gina. I didn't even have to see her name tag to know it.

“What is wrong with you tonight?” Vallery asked. “You're being weird.”

I handed her my wallet. “Just get me whatever you're getting. I'll get a table.”

I walked away before she could argue. I sat down in the corner and stared at Gina. I watched as she doled out cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, sour cream. She looked strong and tan and had her hair up in one of those side ponytails like the girls on the field hockey team used to wear. I couldn't remember if she'd been on the field hockey team. I wondered if she could see me in the corner staring at her.

What was she doing working here, anyway? Had she quit the kiosk job, or did she work both? Maybe she was saving up for college like Kara.

Vallery walked over with a tray and sat down across from me.

“Do you think that girl's pretty?” I asked. “The one who puts the cheese and lettuce and stuff on the tacos.”

“Uh, are you interested in her?” Vallery asked.

“No. She's dating Riley.”

“He's dating already? What a bastard.”

“Yeah, well, I'm dating someone else too.”

“That's different. You dumped him. He's supposed to pine after you.”

“Well, he's not.”

“How'd you find out?”

“He told me. He asked if it was okay.”

Vallery rolled her eyes and shook her head. “And you told him it was okay.”

“Well, what else was I supposed to tell him?”

She tilted her head to the side and twirled her hair. “‘I
love you, Riley; please don't ever love anyone but me.'”

“If you're trying to mimic me, you're doing a really bad job. Anyway, she called me.”

“Who?”

“That girl. Gina.”

“She called you? And said what?”

“She thanked me. For dumping him. I guess they had a really great time.”

“You're kidding me.”

I shook my head.

“What a bitch. I can't believe we let her touch our tacos.” She pushed her food away.

I pushed it back toward her. “It's my own fault, anyway.”

“Why would he think it's okay to date that skank? He knows you're just being wishy-washy and that you're going to come back to him. And he's only trying to make you jealous. And then letting her call you? That's so wrong.”

“Okay, first, I'm dating Eric. I don't want Riley back.”

“Liar. If you're so serious about Eric, why haven't I ever met him?”

“You met him. He came over with his friend Frank.”

“No, I never met him. You're getting me confused with your other sister.”

I sighed. “
Glamour
,
Cosmo
. Does this ring a bell?”

Vallery looked at me. “The magazine guy? You're dating the magazine guy?”

I nodded.

Vallery laughed. I sat there and rolled my eyes until she got it out of her system.

“Finished?” I asked.

“No. So wait, you're selling magazines too?”

“Yes. What did you think I was doing?”

“I don't know.”

“I thought you knew. You never asked.”

“I thought you were doing something shady that you didn't want to tell me about.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know. We can get back to that later. Right now, let's talk about this Gina girl. I wish you were telling the truth about not wanting Riley back, because any guy who's going to let his new girlfriend call up his old girlfriend is no kind of guy you want to be dating.”

“I doubt he was with her when she called. She probably got my number from Christine.”

Vallery raised her eyebrows. “Nice friend.”

I shrugged.

“Gina sounds like a huge bitch. I bet she's been plotting to steal Riley away from you.”

“Vallery.” I sighed.

But she was right. Gina
was
kind of a bitch. The way she'd rubbed my ninety-seven percent in my face every week. The way she never said hi to me like the other kiosk employees did, just tried to sell me her stupid handbags.

“I wonder if it was her,” I muttered. I hadn't even meant to say it out loud.

“What?” Vallery asked. “What was her?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“Come on, you already started to tell me. You have to finish.”

“Remember when you made me leave work early to take Collin to the hospital?”

“Don't start on that again.”

“I'm not. Anyway, she was working that day. At the handbag kiosk. She watched me leave. I wonder if she ratted me out.”

“Huh. I bet she did. Do you want me to take care of her?”

I shook my head. “No, it was definitely Katie. Rodney said she showed up early that day. She knew I left. And what do you mean, take care of her?”

“I'll take care of her.”

“What, like hire a hitman?”

Vallery shushed me. “Lainey! First, don't ever talk like that in public. You never know who's listening. Second, no, I'm not going to hurt her. I'll just make her life a little miserable for a while.”

“She didn't get me fired. And it's not her fault I dumped Riley.”

“Well, she still sounds like a bitch. I'll take care of her. I know you want me to. I'll just ignore any protesting.”

“Please don't do anything.”

“Sure thing, Lainey.” She winked.

 

When I called Eric later that night, hoping he'd want to do something that didn't involve lying in bed at his apartment, he told me he had to go to the Laundromat. Any normal girl would have yawned and called someone else, but I sat straight up and asked, “Oh my God, are you serious?”

Laundromat. So obvious, yet it had never occurred to me.

“Unfortunately,” Eric said. “The dryer here has been broken for a while now. My stepmom just hangs their clothes on the line. But that's not my style.”

“Can I go with you?”

“You want to go to the Laundromat with me?”

“I have so much laundry to do. You have no idea.”

“I have some idea. I've seen your room. Is your dryer broken too?”

“No. I just think it'll be fun.”

He laughed. “You're weird.”

“Give me ten minutes. I'll meet you at your place.”

 

I'd driven past the twenty-four-hour Laundromat before and wondered why there was a need for a twenty-four-hour Laundromat. Who did their laundry at such odd hours that they needed to use a twenty-four-hour Laundromat?

The answer was me and Eric.

We were the only people in the whole Laundromat except for the woman who worked there. She sat inside a big glass room watching a mini TV on her desk. She didn't even look up at us when we came in.

Eric only had one load to do, and he looked really amused as I pulled my dirty clothes out of the hamper and shoved them into three separate washing machines.

“When's the last time you did laundry?” he asked.

I shrugged. “June.”

“You don't strike me as that kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl?”

“The kind of girl who doesn't stay on top of things. I mean, I've seen your room, so I know you can be a little messy. But otherwise, you seem like you've got it together. What's your deal with laundry?”

“I just don't like doing laundry.”

Lie. I'd always loved doing laundry. I loved the smell of the detergent and the dryer sheets and the clothes after they came out of the dryer.

“Is it the washing or the drying that bothers you?” Eric asked.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Ouch,” Eric said. “I'm hitting a nerve. Interesting. Childhood trauma?”

“What kind of childhood trauma could result in me not liking to wash my clothes?”

He shrugged. “Maybe Vallery shoved you in the dryer
when you were a kid.”

I realized then how little Eric actually knew about me. Well, he knew who I was that summer—mostly unemployed, a little irritated all the time, jointly responsible for my brother's well-being. But he didn't know Old Lainey at all. He thought Vallery and I had grown up together like normal sisters. No one who knew me would have suggested that Vallery had shoved me in a dryer. Anyone else would have known she'd never had the opportunity.

Eric poked me. “Well?”

“No one ever shoved me in a dryer.”

“Well, you clearly have issues with laundry.”

“I clearly don't want to talk about laundry anymore.”

“Do you keep a journal?”

I slammed the quarters into the last machine and turned to him. “What?”

“A journal. Where you write down your feelings. It seems like you have a lot of stuff bottled up inside.”

I thought about Mom's groups, all the women who brought their journals to our living room every week. How many times had Mom said those words to me?
Write down your feelings, don't keep everything bottled up.

“I don't have anything bottled up. And you're starting to sound like my mother.”

Eric laughed. “I'm starting to sound like my own mother.”

I sat down next to Eric in one of the bright yellow
plastic chairs. “Your mother told you to keep a journal?”

“Oh, yeah. A few years back, she went to some kind of class, and she'd come home and tell me about all the stuff she'd learned. Like the journaling, writing down your feelings, trusting that everything will turn out all right. All that kind of stuff.”

“You got all that from your mom?”

He nodded. “Are you disappointed that I didn't actually come up with all that on my own?”

I shook my head. “So your mom took a class?”

“Yeah. It was a feel-good workshop kind of thing. But my mom really loved it. It changed her life. Anyway, you might want to think about that journaling thing. Maybe it will help you work through your laundry issues.”

My mother? He couldn't be talking about my mother.

Well, he could. It was possible.

No, it wasn't. His mom lived in Indiana.

“Where'd your mom take the class?” I asked.

“I'm not sure, but I think it was at this woman's house.”

“In Indiana?”

“No, it was before we moved there.”

“Where did you live before you moved there?”

“Here. We all lived here before the divorce, then Mom and I went to Indiana, then I came back.” Eric grinned. “Are you interested? I can call my mom and find out the details.”

“No,” I said. “I'm not interested.”

My mother. It had to be. All of Eric's theories and advice—straight from my mother. Oh my God. I couldn't get away from her.
Think about that journaling thing
. Even now, even dead, Mom still could nag me.

 

For two weeks I wore clean clothes. I picked Collin up from camp every afternoon and watched him until Vallery got home from work. Every other night he slept in my bed. I looked at job advertisements in the newspaper, but I didn't call about anything. I went to work with Eric every other day and tried not to engage him in any philosophical discussions out of fear that he'd spout off more of my mother's teachings. I wondered why I didn't just tell him,
Hey, my mom taught those workshops your mom took!
and it could be another neat coincidence to add to the list of neat coincidences that it seemed our relationship had been built on.

Things fell into a routine. Things felt almost normal. And then Christine called one afternoon while I sat on the couch watching TV with Collin.

“You're so selfish!” she screamed after I said hello.

“Okay,” I said. “What's your problem?” It had been months since I'd heard Christine this angry. I'd thought impending motherhood had somehow mellowed her.

“You can't just let him be happy, can you? You have to ruin everything.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Gina!”

I thought about that night at José Yummy's, when I'd pointed Gina out to Vallery.

She'd done something. Vallery had done something to get even with Gina for doing absolutely nothing to me.