Crazy Horse's Girlfriend (9781940430447) (26 page)

“So. You're talking to me again,” I said, interrupting her. I sat back and folded my hands over my chest. “If you want to know where Mike is, I have no idea.”

“I
—
no… I don't care about him.”

“So? Why the cold shoulder in the hallways? I'm the one who should have been ignoring you. You did me fucking wrong, and you know it.”

“I know,” she said. She picked her cup up and drank from it and I watched her. She put it down, touching the rim of the cup with one of her slender fingers. Her nails were painted a delicate pink. She looked up at me again. “And I
am
sorry,” she said, her voice trembling just a little. She looked into my eyes and back down at her cup.

I sat there for a while looking down at my own cup of coffee, thinking, when I realized that Julia was crying. Julia never cried. The only time I'd seen her cry was at the funeral of a kid who'd gotten in an accident. She had been in a foster home with him. They had started smoking and drinking when they were twelve and he was the first person she'd had sex with where it didn't start with a foster father's hands reaching for her in the endless dark. The boy's name had been Jason, and he had driven off a cliff one night on the edge of a mountain road, drunk and high out of his mind. After the funeral, she said she would never let anyone make her feel that way again.

“Julia, why did you do this to me?”

“Because I'm so, so stupid.”

“Julia… ”

“I don't know Margaritte. Maybe because I was jealous that you got him, and you know it's stupid but I pride myself on getting the guy. That's so stupid. I know. He hit on me and I just… said OK. I promise I will never, ever do anything like that to you again. And he is such a jerk, Margaritte. Really. He is.”

“Julia, I shouldn't forgive you.”

“I know. Margaritte, I know I've done a pathetic, unforgivable thing. But please, let's not throw our friendship away over it. We've been through a lot together. I was doing coke that night because Mike had some, and because I knew what I was doing with him was wrong. And when you're on coke, all kinds of garbage will come out of your mouth.”

“I forgive you, Julia. But don't do anything like that to me ever again. I'm fucking serious.”

Julia took my hand.

“I feel so alone,” I said.

She looked at me with a serious expression on her face. “So… is that why you're having the baby?” she asked.

I blinked. That had never occurred to me.

“I have to tell you, Margaritte, I don't think you should do this. You know, you
know
I've been through this. You can change your mind. It's not too late.”

I felt my heart hammering in my chest. “I can't,” I whispered. “I don't know why.”

“Margaritte, this isn't about Mike is it? I need to hear that.”

“No.”

“He doesn't love you. He doesn't love anyone.”

“I don't think it's about him, and it's not because a book somewhere says that it's the right thing to do. I think probably it will be the wrong thing, in every thinking way. But I can't. I can't. I just can't.” I whispered, my voice starting to tremble.

Julia nodded. She squeezed my hand. “I don't want you to do this. I really don't. I have to keep saying that. I know Jake wouldn't want this either.”

“I know,” I said, wiping at my face. “You know the reason he's going to jail, this time for real, is because he hit the fuck out of Mike the night we saw him with you. Mike passed out from too much coke, and we took him to the hospital, and his parents showed up. And he… he called me a whore.”

Julia closed her eyes. Then opened them, slowly. “Why are you having this loser's baby, Margaritte? You could have a baby sometime later, in the future, when things are better for you. Instead of having a baby with someone who would call you… call you that.”

“I'm not like you.”

Julia narrowed her eyes in confusion. “What do you mean, not like me?”

“It's not about being smart, because I think I'm smart. Or about wanting out of here. It's about something else. I guess there's something wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you! Why do you keep on saying this shit! It makes me so… so—” and here Julia started to cry again—
‟
angry with you,” she said, coming around and holding me. The old guy was looking at us now but I didn't care. I let Julia rock me and we both cried.

“I know. I know,” I said, patting her hand. “It's not… I can't explain. I just can't. It's not like my life is going to be like yours. I'm not like you. Can't you understand that? Please understand that.” I said, my voice wavering and fading.

“I will never, ever understand,” she said. “I hope I never do.”

“Oh, Julia,” I said, “you're so strong. I'm not like you. I'm not strong the way you are. I'm strong in a different way.”

“No,” she said.

“Yes,” I said, and she giggled. She hugged me hard, one more time, and sat down.

“I feel like if I hadn't done what I did, then I would have been there for you when you were making this decision and you would have made a different one.”

“No,” I said.

She looked at me, a smile, devilish smile on her lips. “Yes.”

We giggled.

“I'm just afraid for you. What are you going to do? Have you told your mom? What is your dad going to say?”

I sighed. “I don't know what I'm going to do. Survive, I guess. Live a different way. I'm going to tell my mom tomorrow. She'll go apeshit, then Dad'll go apeshit. It'll be an apeshit factory. I don't know exactly how they'll react. And I am going to do it when Dad's more sober than drunk. You know how he is.”

“I want you to tell me when you're going to talk to them, and then I want you to call me after.”

“OK,” I said.

“So, what's happening with Megan and Will, that crazy motherfucker.”

“He finally pushed Megan over the edge. She kicked him out.”

“Oh, shit,” she said, drinking from her cup. “Hold on. I'm going to get a refill. Want one?”

“Yeah, thanks.” I handed her my cup and she walked up to the long, wooden counter and asked for refills. The guy serving smiled at her like a child, running his long, white fingers through his short, punkish haircut, making nervous chatter as he gave her free refills which would normally cost an additional 50 cents. I laughed a little to myself. It was good to know that some things never changed.

She came back over and set my coffee down, turning the handle of the thick, brown mug over to face me. I picked my cup up and sipped, giving her a captain's salute with the other hand. “Thank you,” I said and she saluted back, her long, elegant arm executing the move perfectly.

“You dah bomb, you know,” I said.

“I am dah bomb,” she said.

We giggled again and she looked at me. “I missed you. I missed this. I'm sorry. Truly.”

“I know. And I did too.”

I sighed. “Well, I should get home.”

She nodded. “One more thing. When is Jake's trial? I heard…”

“Next week. It doesn't look good. They're talking aggravated battery. They're talking real time. Adult jail. I think part of the problem is his record. And they're not exactly going to listen to me when I say he punched someone just because they called me a whore.”

“I see. No cowboy justice for the justice system.”

“I wish there was a way they would listen. No one understands Jake. He's got a heart of pure fucking gold. And me and him, we sell drugs because it's the only way people like us can make money like that. And I wish I could say that both of us were like you, that we loved school, that we were right for it, that it was going to be our ticket out. But it's not. It's not. And wouldn't you feel like punching someone if they called someone you love a whore?”

“Yes. I want to punch Mike
now
.”

“Well, thank you. But I already have one person I love in jail. I don't need two. And I just got you back.”

“I don't know where I was.”

I looked over at her and smiled. “You were in the trenches.”

“I was,” she said, a foggy, faraway expression on her face. Like she was staring into a retreating storm. She was so beautiful, composed, someone who seemed as if they'd made up their mind up a million years ago and hadn't looked back. It was good to know beneath that fa
ç
ade was all of the bubbling, wild, angry shit that we all felt.

“Well, the war's over and you can come home now. I always was one to support my troops,” I said, and Julia laughed, a sharp, sweet sound that I'd missed. I wanted her in my life. I wanted as many fucked-up, awesome people in my life, and my baby's life, as I could squeeze in.

“Can I come to his trial?” She asked, expectantly, anxiously.

“Sure. I don't see why not. It's open to the public. And it will probably go terrifyingly fast.”

“Yeah,” Julia said. “Well.” She picked up our cups and walked over to the counter and the guy ran over to her to ask her if she needed anything else. She smiled at him coyly and he laughed like a little girl. “No. But maybe another time.” I could practically hear his heart thumping like a rabbit's leg from my seat.

“You walk?” I asked.

“I did.”

“Ride?”

“Yeah.”

We got in to my car, and I turned the music up and rolled the windows down and Julia stuck her hand out the window and waved it happily in the wind. She turned to me and smiled, her hair flying in her face. I smiled back. Hers faded and she turned the radio down.

“What?” I asked.

“I
—
I have something to confess.”

“What? You're making me nervous.”

“I slept with Jake, you know. About a year ago. After a party.”

I was shocked. Jake told me everything. And I knew how he felt about her.

“And I pushed him away. I told him that we'd been drunk. But that wasn't true. I was scared. Scared of Jake. And I want to tell you something, and I want you not to judge me.”

“OK,” I said, turning onto the street that lead to Julia's foster home. It was a nice, tree-lined street that always seemed to have kids jumping rope and yelling on it.

“It was because… I felt like Jake was going nowhere. And I felt for him. A lot. And I wasn't going to be trapped. I wasn't going to let him, no matter how I felt about him, get in the way of what I wanted.”

“Look, Julia, you and I are different, but that doesn't mean I don't get it. This place is sad. I don't know what the answer is. But I think you're going to do something amazing. And you're not right for this place.”

“Neither are you.”

I sighed. “We're not going to go through this again, are we?”

“I just feel like I'm having a nightmare where you're drowning and I'm in this tiny boat somewhere in the middle of a storm on the ocean, and I can hear you but I can't get to you.”

“Oh, Julia. I know. But it doesn't have to be like that. Maybe it's not a nightmare; maybe it's a dream. And a dream can be anything. Maybe on the other side of the ocean is something else. Something I never would have thought possible.”

“I think on the other side there are diapers and welfare and not pursuing what I know you should be pursuing.”

“How do you know what I want when I don't?”

“I know.”

I pulled up to her house and stopped.

“What do you know?”

“That you may be a little wacky, but you're not a loser. You're not going to be happy here.”

“I agree. But having a baby isn't the end of the world.”

“But it's going to make everything a hell of a lot harder.”

“That's OK.”

Julia hung her head and looked at me with a funny little smile on her glossed lips. “Well.”

“Well.”

She leaned over and hugged me, the citrus of her floating around me and then she pulled back and opened her door. “We have a long time to argue about this. And I'm glad we are.”

“Me too,” I said and she gave me her clever, sly little smile again and got out. I watched her walk slowly towards the door of her foster house, loads of kids outside, playing, stopping their games to come up to Julia and talk to her, rapid-fire. She took the hand of a tiny little girl with dark, curly hair and they walked to the house, opened the dog-scratched green wooden door, and went in.

Sunday morning I woke up full of hope and energy. I was ready to talk to Mom. She would have to understand. I crawled out of bed, walked up the stairs to the sound of the coffee maker percolating and
Sesame Street
on the television. I sat down at the table and smiled at Mom. She smiled back. Dad was sitting at the table too, the paper like a printed wall between us.