Undiscovered Gyrl: The novel that inspired the movie ASK ME ANYTHING (Vintage Contemporaries) (20 page)

Wouldn’t it be amazing if the Spooners got divorced? Even though it would be hard on Cole psychologically, it’s not as hard as having your unhappy dad making love to your nanny every time you take a nap, is it? Cole is so young he would barely notice the divorce at this age, I think. He wouldn’t be like me who grabbed my dad’s leg and had to be dragged across the snowy yard before I let go. I wonder how they would divide up the custody.

I am fantasizing way too much.

My nose just dripped on my keyboard. Yuck.

During the tiny bits of fever-sleep I had last night, I had the freakiest dreams involving boys I haven’t seen or thought of since third grade. The brain is quite a mysterious organ.

Phone ringing. Somebody loves me. Stand by.

It was Margaret saying “Get well soon.” Rather than hire a temp nanny during my illness, she decided to only work half days at her job. It’s almost finished anyway. I hope spending
more time together doesn’t make the Spooners fall back in love. She put Paul on for a few seconds, but all he said was “Hurry back, kiddo! We miss you!” He’s an excellent actor.

My mom is being super-nice to me, bringing me chicken soup, ice water and vitamins. She even rubbed my feet last night. It’s not just because I’m sick. It’s also because she feels guilty for selling our house and destroying my feeling of security.

I would never tell her this but it’s fun to be babied by her. It brings back memories of the days before I started disappointing her every ten seconds.

I was so much sicker today my mom took me to the doctor. It turns out my flu (which is all over the country now except Florida, and has killed some kids) has turned into bronchitis. I’m on antibiotics now. I hope they work. I’m miserable and lonely.

The stock market is really fucked. I hope Paul doesn’t lose too much money. Or he won’t he able to afford a good divorce lawyer. Hahaha! Coughcoughcough! Boohoohoo!

I am finally feeling better and guess what? My hormones are raging. Isn’t that wonderful? Aren’t I a lucky gyrl? My body, I swear. How can something so beautiful be such a curse?

A humongous crane fell in NYC and crushed a whole apartment building. Can you imagine? You’re lying in bed, thinking your life is pretty awesome then a crane comes through your ceiling and smooshes you like a bug? When you think of all the ways your life can end, it’s pretty much a miracle we even bother to brush our teeth. Come to think of it, I haven’t since yesterday morning!

I feel so much better today. No aches, no chills, just a slight cough and some cramps. I wonder when I can go back to smoking full-time. Since I’ve been ill I’ve only had two or three a day and it’s driving me insane. It feels like ants are crawling in the back of my throat. I am going to call Paul right now and tell him I’m coming back to work tomorrow.

Stand by.

•    •    •

Paul yelled the news to Margaret and she yelled back “Hallelujah!”

Two seconds after Cole fell asleep, Paul and I started kissing. We didn’t even make it to the guest room. We made love on the hallway floor. It was incredibly hot. When it was over I told him my period is coming any minute so we’d better do it as much as we can while we still have the chance.

“Not a problem,” he said.

I didn’t even know how much I missed Paul until I was in his arms again. His mouth, his smell, his touch. I think he’s falling in love with me too. He never stops smiling.

Tonight my mom celebrated St. Patrick’s Day by serving her world-famous corned beef and cabbage (which I hate) and a six-pack of yummy Irish ale. We drank two ales each and pretty soon Mark started talking in an Irish accent. I couldn’t stop laughing. He thought it was because he was so darned funny but actually I was laughing at him. And the harder I laughed the more Irish he acted. Imagine a frog-faced man with no neck, a big belly and a green ski sweater bouncing around in his chair twirling his mustache
and doing the worst Irish accent, while thinking he’s adorable. That’s why I almost had a heart attack. I cannot believe my mother would destroy our cozy life for a man this insipid.

My mother has decided that the answer to the difficult question “What to do with Katie?” is that from the time the house is sold until I go to college (she hopes), I will sleep on a fancy inflatable mattress in Mark’s den. She has heard they’re really comfortable.

I replied “Or you could just find me a refrigerator box.” That’s honestly how I feel. Homeless. She is such a typical middle-aged woman. They talk all feminist and independent but as soon as a man walks into their lives, they drop everything. Even their kids.

Paul and I watched Barack Obama’s speech about racism. It was amazing. Near the end I thought Paul had caught my cough, but I looked over and he was crying. I don’t think I have ever seen a grown man cry before except on TV and movies. Paul has a beautiful soul.

Later I asked Paul why he cried and he said because it was the greatest speech ever delivered by an American politician, even greater than the great speeches of Martin Luther
King, because it was in prose not poetry, and it is much harder to move people with prose. He said that in a perfect world Obama would be president until the end of time. Wow. Considering he works with money all day and used to be a Republican, that’s a pretty big deal for him to say about a Democrat. Wait, wait, this is a bitter truth, but I forget which number:
Every human being is a paradox.

Speaking of which, one weird moment today reminded me of when Paul called me his baby and tickled me. We were making love and he reached down, hooked me by the knee and turned me over. Right as my face touched the towel he said “Usually I don’t believe in tummy time. But in this case I’ll make an exception.” I know it was just a joke but isn’t it disrespectful to talk about your lover like she’s your baby? Or am I being oversensitive because of hormones?

Dan and I were watching a film once called
Women in Love
based on the controversial feminist novel by D.H. Lawrence, and he said “Women love romance. Men love pornography.” What if this is true of me and Paul? What if I am having a romance and he’s having a porno? Wouldn’t that be tragic? I would be so humiliated.

I haven’t told anyone. I will tell you. My period still hasn’t come yet. What’s scaring the shit out of me is that I just called Merci Gregoris who had an abortion senior year and I asked what it felt like to be pregnant and she said “It feels like a period that never comes.” That’s exactly how I feel. I feel weird and crampy and my boobs are sore but it can’t be normal PMS because I am not crying for no reason. AAARRRGGHH!

First day of spring.

Margaret’s job finishes tomorrow.

I was so nervous taking my home pregnancy test just now that I messed up and peed all over the toilet seat and my hand. The second test I was more careful with and it showed a very, very, very faint blue line. I almost couldn’t see it. I hope it was a mistake. On the directions it says nothing about very, very, very faint blue lines. It just says that the second blue line should look exactly like the first one. Well it didn’t. It was fainter. I’m too tired and scared to go out and buy another test.

•    •    •

Every time I turn on the TV people are talking smack about Obama. Why do they keep calling him black? He isn’t black. He is biracial. (Do you know why you shouldn’t use the word “mulatto”? Because it means “mule.” Half horse, half donkey. Paul teaches me stuff like this all the time.) I honestly think the white racists don’t want to think about the fact that his mother is white. They don’t get how important this fact is. They don’t get him at all. They don’t understand that he is the human version of our diverse society.

Took two more tests just now and both showed very faint blue lines. Fuuuuuck! I never thought I would be one of those typical stupid teenage girls who gets pregnant. Actually I’m not all that typical because I don’t even know who the father is. It could be Rory, Dan or Paul. I am extra stupid!

What’s really embarrassing is that last Monday I told Paul my period was coming any minute, so every day this week he asked me if it had started yet. I didn’t want him to worry that I was pregnant, so on Thursday when he walked me to the door, I whispered that it had just started. (I was sure it was going to any minute.) This means that when I get to work tomorrow he’s going to think it’s pretty much over and he’s going to want to make love. I could do it but if I am going to
get an abortion wouldn’t it be a smart idea not to go to the clinic filled with man juice? What do I do? Make him wear a condom the day after my period supposedly ended? It will make him think I have an STD. (I don’t.) What I am trying to say is “Happy Easter, Katie!”

My mom is cooking lamb for dinner, my all-time favorite. I don’t use the mint sauce. I put fresh lime on it. Yum. I must remember not to watch a video of lambs being slaughtered and fake-humped right before I sit down to eat.

When I woke up this morning there was a dark-chocolate bunny rabbit in bright yellow foil at the foot of my bed. I was so happy and grateful that I called my mother “Mommy” all day. She asked what had gotten into me and I said “Nothing, I just temporarily like you. Enjoy it!”

Today was Margaret’s first day back and she already had a job interview scheduled for 2:00. (It’s for a major job that would take months.) It would normally have made Paul really angry that she was ready to leave Cole again so soon, but now that we are in love, I don’t think he cares at all. Besides Cole is used to being with just us during the day.

As soon as Margaret left, we started kissing.

I stopped him and said “We can’t. Don’t be mad.”

He said “Why not? Your period’s over, isn’t it?”

“I have a urinary track infection. Nothing major. I took the medicine today. It’ll be gone soon.”

He smiled. “It’s all my fault. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Back at ya, buddy! Back at ya!”

He laughed at my old-fashioned expression (which I got from my dad) then he took my hand and started rubbing his bulge with it. I knew what he wanted. I pushed him back on the bed. When he came, it felt so good he covered his face with a pillow and screamed into it. I’m dead serious. I am a master!

I can tell Margaret is getting depressed already and wishes she had a new job. She doesn’t admit it, of course. She pretends that she missed Cole every minute and that it’s a blast getting to spend more time with him.

I was so lonely tonight that I almost called Nick, my disgusting one night stand. Instead I called Joel Seidler. Yes, his letter was full of rage but I hurt his feelings and I deserved it. I was sure that if I was really sweet to him and sincerely apologized for being so selfish, he would forgive me. Well, I didn’t get the chance to find out because his mom answered.
Her voice was shaky. She was about to start bawling. She said Joel was in the hospital. I asked what happened.

“Aw, who knows? These shrinks are a bunch of witch doctors if you ask me.” She sounded New Yorky and kind of crazy. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, right? I mean, you’re good friends. You know about his depression, right?”

“Oh, yeah, totally. We talk about it all the time. But he was getting so much better.”

“Well, he relapsed. Made another attempt. Pills this time. The pills his doctors gave him. I thought only girls took pills. I was the one who found him. Scariest moment of my life. I thought he was dead.”

“Can I visit him?”

“Maybe in a couple of weeks. Right now they don’t even want me and Sid there. They got to get his chemistry straightened out.”

The way she talked about Joel, I swear you would have thought he was her boyfriend instead of her son. She is way too into him. Maybe that’s why he took the pills.

Joel’s mother gave me the name of the hospital. As soon as I figure out what to say I will send Joel a card. Normally I would just email him but they don’t allow electronics.

I took another test. The faint blue line isn’t faint anymore.

Rory dropped by tonight without calling. He brought weed, thinking that would be enough to make me at least be nice to him, if not bone him. Normally he would be right (ha!) but no way am I going to get high while I’m pregnant. When I said no thanks, he got really suspicious. I tried to lie my way out of it but he knows me too well. So I had to confess. He took my pregnancy news in the worst possible way. His skin turned bright red and he broke into the biggest smile. He assumed that he was the father and that I was going to keep it. Can you believe how clueless he is?