Why Girls Are Weird (18 page)

The next afternoon, I was happy to be tucked into Dad's old reading chair with a blanket around my legs. I was in my parents' bedroom, which was now just my mom's room. Nothing belonged to Dad anymore, I reminded myself. It was so cold outside I could hear it ringing in my ears. I was very comfortable upstairs in the heated room. I instinctively looked for Taylor to curl up with. I yearned for the comforts of home again and wanted to be back in my apartment. The sadness started seeping into me, stinging my eyes, making me wish the days would speed up so I could fly back home.

“Anna!” I heard Shannon shout. “It's for you!” I hadn't heard a phone or a doorbell. “Someone's here for you!” she shouted again.

Wiping my tears, I quickly fantasized that Kurt somehow figured out where I lived and had driven here from Pittsburgh to see me in the flesh. I pushed my blanket to the floor and rested my book beside it.

“Dude!” Shannon's head poked in the door. “I called you. What's your problem? You've got company.”

“Shut up.” Again my stomach fluttered and I felt myself grow hot. I didn't want to fall for one of Shannon's tricks. But how did Kurt do it? How did he find me here? He might just have been as perfect as I'd been hoping.

“Here he is.” Shannon beamed as she backed out of the door. Another body filled her place.

Ian. Clean-shaven, wide-eyed, Oxford-shirted Ian. He held a cup of coffee and wore a look of absolute compassion I hadn't seen since the time I sprained my ankle on a camping trip. Ian had carried me all the way down from the top of the cliff with that same stoic look on his face. Ian the Protector.

“Hey, baby,” he said.

“I'll leave y'all alone,” Shannon said as she shut the door.

“What are you doing here?”

He squatted on the floor in front of me. “I thought you might like some company.”

“How did you get here?” I asked him.

“A plane. I got a new credit card. That's what new credit cards are for. Trips you can't afford but need to take.”

He pulled me into his arms. I fell forward, off the chair and into him, my blanket tangling around my feet. I was surprised at how easily I fit back into his chest. How comforting the smell of him was in my head. My face felt warm against the cotton of his shirt. I could hear his heartbeat. I didn't know how much I had needed physical attention. My hands found his belt loops, and I hooked my fingertips in them. My eyes closed and I felt my body relax. “Thank you,” I whispered.

We spent most of the day with Shannon and my mom. Ian was good at fixing things, so Mom had him do a few things around the house that Dad never got a chance to do. He was fixing the garage door when my mother called me into the living room.

“Are you two back together?” she asked, her smile taking up her entire face.

“No, Ma.”

“He's obviously here because he loves you.”

“Just because he's here doesn't mean that he loves me.”

“Oh, you know he loves you. Just like you love him.”

“Mom.”

“Why don't you two just get back together?”

“It's not that easy.”

Mom jumped forward toward me suddenly.

“What's wrong?” I asked her.

“Did you see how close I was standing to
The Tommyknockers
? Lord, how scary.”

The rest of the day my mother conspired to get Ian and me alone. Mom and Shannon decided to eat dinner at Meredith's, and Mom told us that there wasn't enough food for the two of us. It was so lame that we had to pretend to understand so we didn't have to talk about how my mom was trying to get her daughter back with her ex. I was embarrassed for both Ian and myself. Shannon had whispered “Hang in there” into my ear before she left. Mom actually winked and gave me a thumbs-up as she closed the front door.

We watched television in the living room with me on one side of the couch and Ian on the other. He pulled my feet into his lap and started rubbing them.

“You don't have to do that,” I said.

“I know. I want to. Is that okay?”

I nodded.

We kept our focus on the television. Ian didn't so much rub my feet as he just held them in his hands. He'd absently squeeze them every few minutes, but it wasn't anything like a foot massage. Eventually the whole thing felt forced, so I pulled my feet away. He quickly grabbed them again.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No, I just feel like I'm making you do that.”

“I asked to do it.”

“I know, but…you're not even rubbing them.”

“Sorry,” he scoffed, and started squeezing them tight. “You shouldn't complain about a free foot massage.” He pinched my pinkie toe too hard.

“I'm not complaining,” I said as I sat up straight and pulled my feet out of his lap. “I'm saying you don't have to do anything. Any of this.”

“I know I don't.”

I sighed and looked up at him. “Why are you here?”

“I thought you might need somebody.” He said it to the television and not to me.

“Why are you really here?”

He turned away and looked down.

“I don't know,” he said.

I just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Susan and I broke up,” he mumbled.

“I know. Does that mean you want to get back together?”

“Does it have to mean that?” Finally he was looking at me.

“I don't know! I'm following your train of thought here. I thought that's why you told me.”

“No, I was just telling you!”

I was sitting up straight, but Ian was sinking further and further back into the couch, like I was berating him. I hated when he did that. I hated feeling like a mother punishing a child.

“Sit up.”

“Sorry.”

Sorry,
Mommy
.

“Or don't sit up. I don't care. Shit.” My hands were trembling.

“I'm sorry, Anna. I don't know. I thought you'd be sad. I wanted to be here to make you feel better. I thought you might need someone. I know how your family gets at times like this.”

“I'm sorry my mother is trying to make us get back together.”

“It's okay.”

“No, it's embarrassing.”

He grabbed my hand. He was sitting closer to me now. “It's understandable. We were good together.”

“Were we, Ian?”

He had pulled my hand into his lap and his fingers were tracing the inside of my arm. “I thought so. Didn't you think so? I still do.”

“See? What does that mean?”

“Why does it have to mean something? Why can't I say that and have it be something I said?”

There wasn't any logic in that sentence. I knew that. But at the time it made sense to both of us, and it was the logic we followed all the way until our mouths found each other and we made out on my mother's couch that Meredith hates. We kept following that logic until we moved into the guest bedroom, where we made love for the first time in a very long time.

It wasn't too fast. It wasn't too hard. It wasn't rushed. We moved together. We never spoke a word. We just kept breathing and moving, holding each other. We kissed and touched. It was dark, so dark I couldn't see his face. He felt thinner in parts, wider in others. I wondered if I felt different to him. He held my breasts more than he used to. He kissed harder than he used to. Then my feet twined with his like they always used to as he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me in just like he used to and we made love just like we used to. Like we were used to. There was an incredible comfort in that.

Afterward he fell right asleep, just like always. I stayed up, which was different. I listened to his breathing in the dark and tried to push myself back in time. I pushed myself back two years ago. I was in bed with Ian and it was dark and we had just made love, but it was two years ago. I tried to see if I was happy. I wanted to see if anything was different.

There was a change. I was feeling guilty. I kept thinking of LDobler, or Kurt, I guess. I felt like I was betraying him. I pushed those thoughts out of my head and snuggled in tighter with Ian. In his sleep he lifted his arm and put his hand around my waist, just like he used to. I felt his skin against my cheek and inhaled the smell of him. He smelled like home.

I reminded myself that Kurt was a man I'd never met who thought I was right where I was at that moment—in the arms of Ian. At least I wasn't lying to him anymore.

25 NOVEMBER

My next week felt three months long. If I wasn't sleeping, I was crying. If I wasn't doing either of those things, my head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton, a dull haze fell over my eyes, and even the slightest movement would leave me exhausted. I didn't answer the phone or leave the house. I wouldn't have even changed my clothes if it weren't for Dale, who came by three times a day to feed me. He also brought over his DVD player and kept me in full supply of movies that had nothing to do with families or dying family members. He would rub my back as I cried. I made him talk about mundane things as I zoned out in my bed. I listened to the latest gossip at his job, problems with Jason, or the most recent news on his screenplay. He was almost finished with it, and I couldn't wait to read it. He was trying to figure out who should play the lead girl and I planned on suggesting Smith.

Through all of this I knew Dale wanted to ask me about Ian. It shows the caliber of friend he is that the subject never came up.

Ian had left the morning after, before I had even woken up, and I hadn't heard from him since. He left so quietly—like I was some kind of mistake, like there was shame in what we had done. I didn't have the strength to get upset over it yet; I wasn't even ready to think about what it all meant. I just wanted the heavy sadness to lift out of my bones. All I did was sleep until I couldn't stand the sight of my apartment any longer.

I eased back to work the next week, mostly because I wanted to see how Smith was doing. It was the first week of December.

We were at our spot under the bleachers when she said, “I'm really sorry about your dad.” The Action Grrlz had all signed a card for me. They were up to fifteen girls. It must have been comforting for them to all sign something that had a definite purpose.

“Thanks. Are you nervous about the rally?” I asked her.

“Hell, yeah. I can't believe it's on Monday. I wrote my speech.”

“I can't wait to hear it.”

She squatted down to tie one of her shoelaces. It was purple and long. She yanked on her shoes like they were being punished. “Are you sure you don't want to bail on it? You've had a pretty rough couple of weeks.”

I leaned my head against the cold metal pole I was holding on to and closed my eyes. I was still tired from everything. My body ached with sadness. It felt like my joints creaked with every motion. I kept seeing my father's body in the hospital. I heard Kurt's voice in my head. I saw Ian's body over mine.

“You haven't been listening to a word I've said, Miss.” Smith punched my arm.

“I'm sorry.” I opened my eyes and focused on her. “Tell me again.”

Smith squinted for a second. She looked away. “Forget it,” she said.

I didn't know how to tell her that I wanted to listen. I just couldn't keep my head in one place.

“I can't believe you fucked your ex-boyfriend. Haven't you seen
High Fidelity
?”

“Seen it and read it,” I said, burying my face in my sleeve, wondering if John Cusack was making royalties off the number of times he'd been referenced in my life recently.

“You two getting back together?”

“No. Let's talk about something else.”

“Anna Koval doesn't want to talk about boys? It's like the entire world has just shifted, Miss.”

I must have looked miserable at that moment because Smith quickly reached out to me. She leaned into my side and put her arm around me. I could feel her small fingers on my shoulder. Her skin felt cold through my sweater. She didn't say another word. She just rested her head on my arm. I hadn't expected such a gentle touch from Smith. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to allow it, but it felt so good to have someone touch me, to quietly tell me it was okay to be sad. It wasn't like a man's touch, which can be hard and can get inside of you, pulling everything out. This was tiny, like when my little sisters and I would twine our bodies together on the couch Saturday mornings and watch cartoons. I pretended Smith was one of my sisters. I closed my eyes and felt my breath catch in my throat. She tightened her grip on my arms and pulled me against her as I tried not to cry. All I could hear was the wind whipping under the bleachers and the sound of flagpole chains clanging in the distance. My head was swirling and my heart was aching. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know how to feel like myself again.

It's not like I thought Ian and I would get back together. I didn't want that. I wasn't ready and I didn't feel like my father's death was an appropriate reason. I wanted to be able to tell Ian that I was flattered by his interest and grateful for his comfort, but I didn't want anything more to happen. I wanted to be the one to break it off. I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to leave
him
for a change. But he never let me be the strong one. Instead he left before I got a chance to say anything. I was never the one in control of us. Not the last time and certainly not this time. I didn't even have the control to stop myself from falling back into his arms and letting him make love to me. I was so weak that I didn't care about risks or who he had slept with since the last time we were together. It was weak to even want him again, to look back at him and take him again.

I was at square one all over again.

When I got home that afternoon I grabbed my C
HANGE
list. N
EW
H
AIRCUT
had been crossed off. I crossed off L
OSE
W
EIGHT
. It seemed like such a stupid thing, to worry about my weight when my entire life was fucked up. I had made a list based on impressing someone else. Not one of those items was for me. Was I so self-hating that I needed to write down things that were wrong with me? Why would I do that to myself?

I wondered if my ass was still tall enough to get on roller coasters.

D
RINK
M
ORE
W
ATER
. I couldn't believe that was a resolution. As if drinking a few liters of water would give me a brand-new perspective on the world, make me one with the universe, and allow me to finally understand calculus. It was just hydrogen and oxygen, not a master's degree.

I crunched the paper into a ball in my right hand. I wasn't going to live by a set of flaws. I was going to live my life without feeling like a daily failure.