Riding the Universe (14 page)

Next thing I know, I am taking off my panties, without the slightest bit of regret. I ball them up and throw them onto the dock, taking in everything about our surroundings—the sun, the sky, the sound of fish slapping nearby. I feel confident knowing this is about to happen in my perfect place with my perfect guy.

Gordon holds me tight and kisses my cheek. I can tell he wants to show me that there's no rush, that I'm in control of this situation.

Suddenly, I hear it. A rumbling engine coming up the road. Not the survey guys. Not a lost vehicle. But a '68 Mustang driven by the only other person to have ever shared this special place with me. A person naïve enough to think
he's still alone in that honor.

Sputtering turbo sounds grow closer.

Gordon follows my gaze. “Someone's here.”

“Rock,” I tell him.

He lets go of me and starts swimming toward the dock. “What are you going to tell him?”

“I have no freakin' clue.” Even though Rock knows that Gordon and I are alone a lot, seeing us here will definitely induce a wake-up call. There's no time to even climb onto the dock for our clothes.

I see the black hood of the Mustang slide up, crunching over the gravel. I hope he has enough decency to leave when he sees that my bike and Gordon's car are here together.

“Go away, Rock,” I mumble.

The Mustang lingers, the sound of her engine filling the estuary. Gordon watches me from under the dock. I paddle toward him, but not so close that I can't see what's happening onshore. My phone rings, but it stops after two seconds, like Rock realized it was a bad idea to call. I hear the Mustang change gears, then it turns around in the gravel and heads back down the road again.

I exhale loudly.

“Chloé, you'd better go talk to him,” Gordon says, pulling himself up onto the dock. I look away, embarrassed. It's one thing to see someone lying next to you naked, and another to see them climbing out of water that way.

He reaches down to help me up, handing me my clothes as I land on the wooden planks. “I don't need to. He's not a baby. Stay, Gordon. Don't let him scare you off.”

Gordon pulls on his wet shorts and lies flat on his
back. “No. You need to talk to him,” he repeats, and I know our special moment is over for now. He's right. Rock's probably wounded. He didn't expect this, and I need to have an honest talk with him. But couldn't it wait another hour?

“Fine,” I say, disappointed that our afternoon dissolved into this. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe today wasn't the day. I hate signs and I hate warnings, so it's no surprise that I get dressed quickly and jump on Lolita to leave. “I'll call you later.”

“Chloé,” Gordon says.

“Yes?” I hate feeling like he's using this opportunity to stop and think about what we almost did together. I don't feel any regret, and neither should he.

“Don't be mad. We had a great afternoon together.” He smiles.

I nod in response.

I remember those first times in tutoring. How hard it was to get him to loosen up. Yet today, he jumped right into the estuary and peeled off his shorts. Isn't that what I wanted? For him to put the world on hold and just have fun? Still, I can't shake the irrational, gnawing feeling that he's trying to get rid of me.

“I shouldn't have met you now anyway,” he says, and I almost can't believe what I'm hearing. “I was up to my ears in work.”

I don't respond, just wait until he closes his car door, has gone down the driveway, and turned onto the main road. Then I put my head down on Lolita and take in the sudden stillness of the swamp.

R
ock sits on my bedroom floor, running his pocketknife underneath his grimy nails. In my girly yellow room, he looks about as comfortable as a cat in a bathtub. Per my father's instructions a few years back, Rock is not allowed to sit on my bed under any circumstances—a pretty dumb rule if you think about it. If we were going to have sex, we could still do it on the floor.

“Are you going to say anything?” I ask, sitting cross-legged on my bed.

“You're the one who called me here.”

“I know, but…”

“How long have you guys been going there, Chloé?” He
looks up, the angle of his jaw sharp. The way he says “Chloé” makes my heart hurt a little.

“Since we've been seeing each other, Rock. He's my boyfriend. What'd you expect?”

“If you didn't think it was a big deal, then why haven't you mentioned it?” He shoots me a hard stare.

“Because I know hearing about us together bothers you. I guess that's why you've kept your distance, but I really would like for us to all be friends.”

“Look, you don't have to explain anything to me. It's your life, your decisions.” His tanned arms look strong over his knees as he slides the sharp point of the knife underneath each nail. “Chloé, you have every right to be with whoever you want, but that doesn't mean I have to pretend I'm okay with it, so don't worry about me anymore.”

“I do worry about you. I worry that you're not sleeping at home, that you're going to catch a disease…” I watch him cleaning his nails. “That you're putting that dirt on my floor.” Hopefully, he'll laugh. I miss hearing him laugh.

He smiles faintly.

“The dock won't be there much longer anyway. They're kicking me out.”

He raises an eyebrow, looks up at me with heavy lids.

“They're going to build something there, can you believe it?”

“When did that happen?”

“Back in January.”

“Back in January, and now's when you tell me? See, this is what I'm talking about, sweetheart. No communication
anymore. Where's the love?” He flips his hands up in exasperation.

“Well, Rock, you've been coming and going a lot lately. And I know what evils you're up to when you're missing in action.”

“What? I've been calling you all day, Chloé!” he answers with the same accusing tone.

“Today, yes, but what about the other days?”

“The other days, I'm trying to drown out a crappy existence,” he says, all serious.

I just stare at him. I don't know if he means that, or if this is Rock playing the “save me” role again. “You don't mean that.”

“No, of course I don't,” he says, going back to picking the last of his nails.

I sigh. “Rock, the point is, I have to say good-bye to the dock, and I want you there when I do. Not Gordon.” Hopefully, bestowing him with that honor will remind him I love him.

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know, you're being a big baby. You could be a little more understanding.”

“Waaah.” He closes and reopens his pocketknife over and over. “They can't make you leave.”

“Uh, yes, they can. I don't own that land.”

“
Agh, pfft
,” he grunts, biting the tiny corner of a nail and spitting it out.

“It's
our
place,” I say. And it is. I love Gordon, but he's still just a visitor. “We'll need to hang out there every day, you and me, and say good-bye.”

“Our place,” he repeats, lost in thought.

His face—his eyes—are killing me. Is it possible to love two people at the same time? I know Rock thought we'd have something together, and maybe if neither of us ever ends up with anyone else it could work—you know, for the sake of procreation and not being lonely—but right now, I'm in love with someone who's pretty great. And I have to tell Rock that. “There's something else.”

He looks at me cautiously.

“But you have to promise not to get mad, or else I'll have trouble telling you anything ever again, and then I'll know for sure we can no longer be friends.”

“You're banging that dude.”

My brain flashes a lovely image of me and Gordon together, skin touching skin, arms and legs twisted together. “Not yet, but—”

“That looks says it all.” He lies flat on my floor and stretches his arms. “I know you are, doll. You don't have to rub it in my face.”

“I'm not rubbing anything.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Stop it, Rock.” From my position on the bed, I pick up my pillow and chuck it at him. “We haven't done it yet. But I want to.”

He hugs the pillow and shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. “Don't you realize I know these things, Chlo? I know them before you even tell me.”

“I still wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Yeah? Well, thanks, but I kind of figured it out when I saw his car and your bike there together. And because we
are
friends, I should be able to tell you if I think you're making a big mistake, so guess what? I think you're making a big mistake.”

“You're not making this any better. I know you think I should be with you, but get over it. Friends who hook up can't go back to the place they were before. And I don't want to lose you!” Why am I yelling?

Rock sits up straight, an incredulous look on his face. “How do you know that? How do you know that we're not meant to be together, like your parents? I spend my life here because of them and you. I want my kids to have a family like that.”

“But it doesn't happen like that for everyone. They're freaks,” I fire back.

“How will we know if we don't even try?” He yells back so loudly, I almost start crying. He sees the pain on my face and quickly regains his composure.
Jesus
. I run my hands through my hair.

“Gordon is really sweet,” I say slowly, registering the look of contempt on his face before continuing. “You haven't bothered to get to know him.”

He throws his hands up. “What the hell do you want from me, Chloé?”

“You can start by being happy for me!” I yell.

“Fine!” he yells back. “I'm happy for you!”

“Augh!”
I feel like worlds are colliding inside my chest. I can't handle this anymore. “Just go home. I have to study.”

“You have to study?
Pfft
. You're already becoming him.”

“Oh, what. I can't study now? That has nothing to do with Gordon.”

“Stop saying that retard's name.”

“Stop calling him a retard,” I snap.

“Whatever.” He settles into a fake restful position.

I sigh. “If I fail that class, my parents take away Lolita. And if they take away the bike, I lose my soul, Rock, okay? I thought if anyone could understand that, it'd be you.”

He closes his eyes.

If he wants to be an ass about this, that's his choice.

“You know what the worst part about this is?” I ask, meeting his stubborn eyes with my own. “Week after week, you assume I'll just accept the girls you hook up with—most of them I've never even seen, never even known their names. And now I ask you to accept one guy—
one
guy—and you won't. I'm happy for the first time since Seth died and you can't be happy for me. Well, I'm not going to let you spoil this.” I get up and open the door to my room.

“I'm sorry, Chlo. I just can't,” he says as I charge out.

“Oh, grow the fuck up,” I say over my shoulder.

He can follow me if he wants to, or he can fall asleep in my room for all I care. I'm going out. I snatch Lolita's key off the hook in the kitchen, but my mother comes out of the pantry, one baby in a front sling, one baby on a back sling. “Where you going?”

“Out.” I grab my helmet off the counter and head for the garage.

“Stop,” my mom says. The baby in the front carrier turns his head toward me like he's going to lecture me too.

I stare at her. “Stop what?”

“You're not going anywhere.”

“I always go out after dinner.” It's not like my mother to stop me, especially these days. I need my space.

“Sit down, Chloé.” Her bright hair hangs in loose curls around her face. The circles under her eyes are getting lighter. Babies sleeping more equals Mommy regaining strength.

I lean against the counter. Whatever she wants to tell me, she can tell me as I stand. “What is it, Mom?”

“Marraine tells me you've been leaving school with Gordon. Is that true?”

My gut clenches. “No,” I lie. “I only left one day during second period. The other days were during lunch. I went to get something to eat.”

“Leaving school during lunch isn't allowed.”

“I—” I thought she didn't know about that new rule. And I certainly didn't think Marraine had seen me leaving. She always takes lunch in the teachers' lounge.

“She says you failed your last two chemistry tests, Chloé.” She waits, her eyes wistful, her mouth a thin line.

“How would she know that?
I
don't even know what I got on the last one.”

“You got an F.”

“What?”

“She works at your school, Chloé. Stop acting so gullible!” Her voice raises right at the end. Frustrated, she closes her eyes and relaxes, stroking Baby Sagan's head to calm herself down.

“She's making that up, Mom! That's not true.” Behind me, I hear the front door close gently as Rock makes his stealthy exit. I'm sure this is all very amusing to him.

My mother shakes her head, because we both know
Marraine has no reason to lie. “Chloé,” she says slowly, “I know you're perfectly capable of making good decisions when you put your mind to it, but right now, honey, you're not considering the consequences of what you're doing.”

“And what is that, Mom? What exactly am I doing?”

Her calm little smile tells me she knows. She's not stupid. After all, my mother used to skip school all the time to be with my father. “You need a new tutor, so I'm going to hire one for you.”

“No. I have Gordon.”

“Gordon,” she stresses, “is not helping you anymore in that respect. He has no problem leaving campus with you. If he had any regard for you or your failing grade, he'd stay in school all day and urge you to do the same.”

“You can't talk, Mom. You had a boyfriend who skipped with you too. So you can't tell me anything.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“You most certainly did too. Sethie told me.”

The look of shock on her face is superb.
Ha! So there!

“Seth was only ten. He wouldn't have known anything. Besides, he was always in school when I'd come home with—”

I smile. “When you came home with…who?”

She doesn't answer, just presses her lips together in frustration.

I lower my voice and try to sound adult about this, in the hope that she'll treat me like one. “When I said I would bring up the grade, I meant it. You have to believe me.”

“I don't have to anything. Chloé, you have a D average. Do you hear me? A D average. Now, I know that Mr.

Rooney is not the best teacher, and I know that chemistry has never been your strong suit, but a deal is a deal, and when your father gets home tonight, he's going to hear about this.”

“Mom! Please! I'll pull up the grade. I've hit a roadblock, but I'll get back on track, I swear!”

“Chloé, leave the key and go back to your room.”

“No!”

I can't. My eyes well up, but I can't bring myself to leave the key. She can't do this to me. She should understand! I make a mental note to never be such a bitch to my daughter if I ever have one, adopted or not.

“Excuse me?” she says. And for the first time in a year, I see my mother again—the one who participated in my life before the babies were born. Her eyebrows draw together, her lips form a tight knot, her teeth grind hard.

“Mom…”

“Leave the key on the counter and go back to your room.” She says this gently, like it's any easier that way. “Nobody's asking you to love school, Chloé, but I can't have you running around, failing chemistry, skipping class, getting yourself hurt.”

“Who says I'm getting hurt? Now you sound like Rock!” I'm always careful the way I talk to her, but right now, I don't care. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand what she's doing to me.

“And that's why I've always loved that boy.”

Like that's supposed to be funny.
Ha, ha! Ha, ha…not.
It's one thing for Rock to sing his own praises, but now my mother? Enough already.

I face her and cross my arms. “Since when do you care what I do with my life? I go out every night without a problem, and
now
is when you care?” I feel like I'm spitting venom, but if she's going to take away Lolita, then I've got nothing to lose at this point. “You're the one always calling me a wanderer, saying I'm destined to roam the Earth! You're the one always comparing me to Seth!”

A comparison I now wholly cherish.

“You don't know what you're talking about. I have
always
cared about you, more than anybody. I know you adored Seth, baby, but listen to me: Seth had nothing. Whatever he did have, he gave it up.”

“What do you mean?”

She shakes her head. “His job, his future…the bike, Chloé. That's all he had, and he gave it to you. Is that how you want to end up? With a motorcycle and little else? We're trying to help you. What are your goals? What do you want from this life?”

How dare she? As if her life goal was to marry Papi, work at the Pancake House, and get pregnant at the age of thirty-seven by surprise, with twins, no less! Who is she to demand anything from me? Who cares how I choose to live my life, as long as I'm good to people and don't hurt anyone?