Read Why Girls Are Weird Online
Authors: Pamela Ribon
Why Girls Are Weird (25 page)
When I got back to work on Tuesday, Smith didn't meet me for our lunch break smoke. I walked down to the track bleachers, figuring she was already there. It wasn't until after my smoke, when I turned to leave, that I heard a voice from above my head.
“I'm fucking pissed at you, Miss.”
She was sitting on the framework of the bleachers, her head crammed between two slats, her feet dangling near my head.
“I wanted to kick you just now, but I'm too much of a pussy. Don't tell anyone.”
The blood drained from my face and my fingers went numb when I realized I had missed Smith's rally yesterday. I couldn't believe I had done that.
“Oh, shit, Smith. I'm so sorry.”
She twisted herself over the bars of the bleachers and jumped down in front of me. Her eyes were red. “I don't give a shit about the rally, okay? It sucks to find out that you're not important. You're so caught up in all your boy shit that you don't look at anything. It's fucking stupid.” She jammed her hands in her pockets and looked me straight in the eyes.
“I'm sorry,” I said again. My brain kept going over the past week, wondering how I had let this happen.
“This was important to me,” she said. “It's not like I think I'm your best friend or anything, but I deserve a bit of respect. Every day I have to hear you go on and on about Ian or Kurt or Dale or any of these boys keeping your head so busy. You don't ask about my life unless I point the conversation to where you have no choice. I'm sick of it, Miss. If we're not friends, then we're not friends, and you can be my adviser and I'll leave you alone. I don't want to be the person you wait to stop talking so you can talk again.”
“We are friends,” I said. “I like you so much, Smith. I'm really sorry.”
“I like you, too. And I forgive you because I know you've been sad and you obviously got laid and that makes you happy and shit. But damn, Miss. I'm pissed you skipped out on the rally.”
“You're forgiving me? You're a better person than I am.”
“I know.” She wasn't smiling.
“So, how was it?” I asked.
“It got shut down. I didn't have an adviser.”
She lit another cigarette as I apologized again. “Nobody showed?”
“No, lots of people showed. So many that they made us break up the group before I could start talking because I didn't have an adviser. It wasn't sponsored.”
“Can we do it again?” I asked. “Can you set one up for next week?”
“No, Miss! It's time for finals. And then we have winter break. I couldn't have another rally until February, at least.”
My brain was working quickly. I wanted to make it up to her. “Okay, then we'll start working hardcore after winter break. We'll get everyone in Action Grrlz ready for another rally and I'll do everything this time.”
She looked at me and popped her gum. “For real?”
“For real,” I said. “It'll be huge. We'll just make it sound like the most important event of the year. Then, when everyone's there, you stand up and you unleash Action Grrlz. You tell them what you're about and you become the leader of the school's most notorious group.”
“
Notorious.
I like that word.”
“It'll be huge. Please let me make this up to you. I'm sorry I let you down.”
“I'm gonna have to write another speech.” She smiled.
Ian,
I wasn't going to write you back because I thought your last letter was inappropriate, but I thought you should know that when I was in Pittsburgh with Anna she told me she was going to see one of her old friends, but instead she saw some guy. I saw him pick her up. She didn't come back to the hotel that night. She doesn't know I know all of this. She probably thinks I'm some stupid kid and that I'm not worth her time. I'm not as dumb as she thinks I am. I'm sorry if this information hurts you, but I feel you have a right to know. I think Anna's lying to lots of people, and I don't really want to be her friend anymore. I bet she won't even miss me.
Let me know if you want to get together to talk about it. Also, tell me if there's anything you need me to do. I'll be here.
Tess
-----
Dale's eyes widened as he read the printout. “Wow, she's pissed.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“She was too young for you anyway, Anna. And I was jealous you went on a vacation with her instead of me.”
We were Christmas shopping at Toy Joy, a tiny toy store on the university campus. I was digging through a basket of plastic fish, looking for an orange one to stuff in Meredith's stocking. We've always called her “Fish Face” because she gives the worst kisses. She puckers up all huge and it's wet and she loves to do it and we are incredibly grossed out by it. Meredith will make the perfect old lady someday.
“We shouldn't have sent that e-mail to her.”
“Write a nasty entry about her, hinting you know she told Ian. That'll scare the crap out of her and hopefully she'll be gone for good. That's what I'd do. I can't believe she was hitting on him in her letter. I mean, call her if he wants to talk?”
“Yeah, I noticed that, too.”
“What a skank. I can't wait until you're a famous writer and we don't have to deal with these losers anymore.”
“Dale, if you keep talking about it like that it's only going to hurt more when they reject me.”
I shouldn't have told Dale that I had sent some of my journal entries to a few magazines. I wanted to see what would happen. Probably nothing. Dale thinks
The New Yorker
will pick one up for the Fiction section. I can't imagine, but it's still a pretty good fantasy. Who knows? I never thought the webpage would be as popular as it was, and it wasn't as if I was a complete nobody. I had just spoken at a conference. I was a confirmed writer.
“You're grumpy. Internet boy?”
“Still not talking to me.”
“By âtalking,' you mean on the Internet, right?”
I looked up at him. “Yes. What are you getting at?”
“I wanted to remind you that you don't actually talk to any of these people.”
“Well, I did a lot more than talk to that boy two weeks ago.”
“You know there's no difference between this guy and Tess, right? They both want to wreck your relationships and have you all to themselves. It's just that one is a better lay.”
“Well, as far as I know. Tess might be great in bed.”
“She'd jump at the chance.”
“How did this become my life?” I wailed at the ceiling.
“What did you send him for Christmas?” he asked.
“What makes you think I sent him something?”
“Because you're not in Pittsburgh right now standing outside his apartment holding a boom box in the air blasting Peter Gabriel.”
“I sent him some paintbrushes, okay?” I didn't know anything about paintbrushes, but I hoped they were the right ones. The art store salesman said they were the most expensive. I hoped that also meant they were the best.
“And?”
“And a CD.”
Kurt wasn't returning my e-mail. I got his number from Directory Assistance, but when I called his house, I got his machine.
“What CD?” Dale asked.
“A mix.”
The nagging feeling that Heather might not have been out of the picture wouldn't leave me. Maybe that was why he asked for space so easily without finding out what I was trying to tell him. He must have known that if I came clean, he'd have to as well.
“What's the first track on the mix?”
“Our song,” I answered.
“Which is?”
“Air Supply. âAll Out of Love.'”
“Why?”
“It was on in the bar the day we met. Pathetic.”
“I love it.”
“Oh, I know.”
It wasn't like I was about to move to Pittsburgh, and I wasn't about to ask him to move to Austin, so what did I want from him? The long-distance thing was too hard. It's painful and expensive and feeds on paranoia, insecurity, and loneliness. Half the time I'd be wondering if our relationship was working because we were perfect for each other or if it only worked because it was convenient.
“Does he know that's your song?” Dale asked.
“No.”
“I love it even more.” He held up a punching nun puppet. “Buy me this,” he said.
“No. You'll bring it to the dinner table and I'll never hear the end of it from my mother.”
“I'm excited she's coming for Christmas. It's nice when everyone comes to you.”
“I'm just excited you're making Christmas dinner. There's no pressure on my end anymore.”
Dale put on a pair of X-ray glasses and said, “I'd like to remind you that I'm not cooking the dinner at all. Jason's the cook. I'm the eater.” He grabbed a Santa Claus puppet down from a shelf. “You know, by sending him things you're violating his request for space.”
“I know.”
“So what else did you send him, Stalker?”
“A picture of myself.”
“So he can paint a new picture of you?” Dale asked.
“Kinda.”
“Wow.”
“Don't look at me like that.”
“And I suppose you're going to write him some kind of sappy entry that's just a big ol' message about how you might have fallen in love with him, right?”
“Want to write it for me?”
“Not if you paid me.” Dale held the Santa puppet out in front of him. “Dear Mister Santa. I need a new ass this year. The one I've got's getting kinda fat.”
(There's Always More)
22 DECEMBER
You meet someoneâ¦
And even though you just met, you feel this history, a sense of belonging, and a sense of togetherness that you don't usually have with people. Maybe you can talk to her for hours, forgetting the time. Maybe you talk despite the time. The two of you laugh and order another drink and end up late for everything. The time you spend together is worth any amount of inconvenience later.
Someone meets youâ¦
But you assume he couldn't possibly know you. You haven't given him enough time. She seems too busy. You are too busy. Maybe that person surprises you with a gift in the mail. A message on your voice mail. You bump into each other at the store and she asks how your cat is doing. You forgot that you told her about your cat's cough. It's almost nothing to you now, but she's been thinking about it. Someone outside of your world has been thinking about you. You've made an impression. You are a part of her. You let him in. Or maybe you didn't. Maybe all of this attention makes you uncomfortable. Maybe you decide you don't have enough time. Everything didn't come together just right. He wears too much cologne. She keeps shortening your name when you hate being called that, even after you told her not to. Maybe he's too perfect. Maybe if you know him much longer you will fall in love and you don't want to. Perhaps you don't want to put in the time. Sometimes you can be selfish. This is one of those times. Or not. Sometimes you get closer despite trying to stay away.
You know someoneâ¦
And you've known him forever. You know how he works, how he thinks. You know what he's going to do before he does it. You know all of her jokes before she says them. You know that scar right under his earlobe, you know the name of the dog that did it, and you know why it was his own fault it happened. You know the songs that make her cry. You know when he's in the other room crying and he knows you know. There's a quiet understanding between the two of you. A gentle reminder of each other, like when you visit your parents and the same stair creaks under your feet. A reminder that something larger than you remembers you and knows when you are around.
Someone knows youâ¦
And you can say anything. You can wear whatever you want in front of him or nothing at all. You can laugh your stupidest laughâshe's heard it before. You can discuss the things you're ashamed of because you are safe. He will be honest with you. She'll cry for you. She ignores your Simpsons collection. He puts up with your ABBA obsession. He never runs out of coffee. He listens to you. He has a way of holding your hand that makes you shiver. He can ignite your entire body just by brushing his fingertips between your shoulder blades.
You love someoneâ¦
And it is the hardest and most rewarding thing you've ever done. You ache with love. You cry sometimes, because you know two things: You know that you've never felt this good before. You also know that it couldn't possibly last forever. You want it to. You want it frozen. You want to stop time, right there, as she hands you your toothbrush, or as he pulls you back from the curb of the street for one last kiss good-bye. You want to be able to pull them closer than the hug, into your body, so you can keep the smell of them inside you, next to you, all around you.
You love someone and it hurts. You love someone and it's very, very good. Not only do you feel better about yourself, you feel better about people, life, animals, and the color orange. You find yourself doing ridiculous things. You clean under the bookcase for her even though she probably won't see under there. Just in case. You could end up in a passionate embrace by the CD player and she'll pull you down to the ground and you will know it'll be perfect. If you die right there with her, it will be clean. It will be clean for her.
You know yourselfâ¦
And you know your limits. When she says the last thing you ever expected to hearâdo you stop? When it becomes painful, too painful, do you let him go? When she's gone too far, or she's not doing enough and you're exhausted from dealing with her. When he doesn't return your calls and you're hoarse from trying to be heard, talking into nothing, screaming into nothing. Or maybe she quietly, very quietly, walked over and stabbed you in the heart. Or the back. Or right between the eyes. She waited until your guard was down. Or maybe not. Maybe she knew you were looking. Maybe she did it because you were looking. Maybe you knew enough about her that you should have known better. Maybe you both knew that. Maybe he wanted to see if he could do something you didn't expect. He might have been testing his limits. He wasn't thinking. Maybe he was trying to know someone else a bit more, just for that instant, just for a little while, just to be known by someone else, to know someone else. Maybe he doesn't want to know you anymore. It might hurt to know you. Maybe all of you are hurting. She's still getting to you, even when she's not around. He's still hurting you, even when he hasn't said a word to you in years.
You know everything, and you know nothingâ¦
And in that there's this: You will always learn something new. About him. About her. About yourself. And in learning the bad, the uncomfortable, the messyâit's what you take away that counts. What will you do with that knowledge? Will you leave? Pull tighter? Ignore it? Use it to fall in love even deeper? That's when you learn more about yourself.
You aren't a bad person. You're a complex person. You're dealing with complex people. And there's always more to know.
Love until later,
Anna K
