Pretend You Love Me by Julie Anne Peters
I was so enthralled in watching her body language, the way her lips moved, her eyebrows danced, her eyes expressed every word, that I’d tuned out the content. I suddenly noticed the quiet, her staring at me. “Huh?” I said.
“Oh, never mind.” She shook her head. “You’re so removed from the real world, you’ve probably never even gotten stoned.”
“Yeah, I have,” I said. “Once. With Jamie.” Once was enough.
“Who’s she?” Xanadu asked. She wiggled her eyebrows. “Your girlfriend?”
I choked. “Not hardly.”
Xanadu leaned back, propping herself on her elbows. She raised one leg, the one closest to me, and bent it so that her knee was eye level with my face. Her legs were unbelievably long. And smooth. She must shave, I thought. Well, duh. Most girls shaved. Femme girls.
“The ecstasy was bad. I admit that. But everybody does it. That or dust. But dust’ll mess you. You don’t want to do dust. You have to do E, though. I didn’t think it was dangerous or anything. Not until…” Her voice changed. “Until…”
I twisted my head around to look at her.
She swallowed hard and met my eyes. “Until Tiffany died.”
“What?” I shot up straight and whirled on my butt. “Someone died?”
“God.” Xanadu’s head lolled back. She closed her eyes and released a thin, shallow breath.
“What happened?” I asked.
Through the globs of mascara, a tear glistened on her eyelashes. She hunched forward in a ball, clutching both knees to her chest and rocking a little. “I didn’t know her that well,” she said. “Tiffany. She was a senior. It was her birthday party at her house, her eighteenth birthday. Her parents weren’t even there. Okay, that doesn’t matter. Even if there are adults around, someone always manages to sneak in a bag of E and sell it. Maybe it was a bad batch or something. I don’t know. Tiffany took too many. Who knows? She just passed out in the bathroom and everyone was too scared to call 911. Someone should have called, you know? They waited an hour. A whole fucking hour.” Xanadu exhaled a long breath. “By the time the paramedics arrived, she was already in a coma.”
I was trying to absorb all this. Tiffany, ecstasy, coma.
“I can’t believe she died.” Resting her cheek on her kneecap, Xanadu picked up a chunk of horse chow and flung it off the side. “None of us could. I mean, God. I’ve never known anyone who died. Have you?”
My stomach clenched.
“You have?” She lifted her head and looked at me, through me.
“A couple of people,” I said.
“It’s freaky, isn’t it? It makes you realize, you could be next. That it could happen anytime, anywhere. Without warning.”
No warning.
“Mom and Dad got all I-don’t-know-you-anymore, how-could-you-do-this-to-us?” Xanadu mocked in a sing-songy voice. “I don’t know how they even found out I was at the party. Or who told them I was doing E. Mom went ballistic, of course. She was ready to turn me over to the authorities and, like, have them put me in lockdown. Whatever.” Xanadu released her legs and stretched them out in front of her. “She always overreacts. Is your mom like that?”
I let out a laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I hunched forward.
“Come on. I just revealed my whole life to you.”
She was right. I never talked about my stuff. Who cared? “I’d be happy if my mom could react,” I muttered.
Xanadu’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
Why’d I say that? I couldn’t do this. Not yet. “Forget it.” My eyes raked the ground and I twisted away from her.
Xanadu said, “I’m sorry. I talk too much.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw her gaze out across the fields into the deepening sky.
“No,” I said. “It’s just, I don’t want to go there. I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “That’s fine. You don’t have to. You don’t even know me; why should you trust me? It’s strange, but I already trust you. It usually takes me a long time with new people. There’s something about you, though. You’re so… open.”
Me? I wished I could be. I wanted to be. She trusted me. I felt honored.
We watched the sky together. After a minute Xanadu said, “They were right. Mom and Dad. I was on the road to ruin, in Dad’s words. With the drugs, though, yeah. I mean, I didn’t do that much, but my grades were shitty and I was ditching a lot. I was in trouble already. Then… Tiffany.” Xanadu blinked to me. “I’m sorry. I keep telling you all this.”
“It’s okay. It’s good.” Get it out, I thought. “So you came here,” I said.
“Yeah. Like I had a choice.” She let out a bitter-sounding laugh and nudged me again with her elbow. “I definitely needed a change of scenery. I wasn’t exactly prepared for this.” She swept her arm out to the side, as if indicating the entire planet. Another planet, which, I suppose, Coalton had to seem to her.
Leland trudged out of the barn, humped over, obviously in pain. “You two still here?” He arched his back and grabbed his spine.
“We finished the unloading,” I told him, in case he thought I was slacking off.
He eyed the storage shed, the neatly stacked bags of feed. “Nice job. Thanks.” He smiled at me, at Xanadu. His eyes warmed to her. “Well, I’m all done in, girls.” He smacked his dusty hat against his leg. “Headin’ back to the house. You coming, Xana?”
She ran a fingernail over a freckle on her leg. She had exactly fourteen freckles, that I could count. “I’ll get a ride back with Mike, if that’s okay.”
Please let it be okay, I prayed.
“Fine by me,” Leland said. “Stop by the house on your way, Mike, so the missus can write Everett a check.”
“Will do.”
He puttered off in his boat-sized Buick. The hearse, Jamie called it. A cloud of dust billowed across the road in his wake. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Xanadu said. “I am so not Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.” She tilted her head at me and grinned. “Neither are you.”
She got that right. “Since I’m a townie, I wouldn’t qualify anyway.”
Her smile widened. She had perfect teeth, white and straight.
The sun was beginning to descend behind her, illuminating the sky in a color wash of gold and orange and peach. “So, okay,” she said. “I’m stating the obvious here, but you’re gay, right? Is this like your total butch look?” She passed a hand down my body.
All my muscles seized at once. I felt the blood drain from my face.
“God.” Xanadu covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh God. I’m sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean…” She reached over to touch my leg, but retracted her hand. “I have a big mouth. You can’t shut me up. Someone should wire my jaw shut or better yet, remove the language chip from my brain. I didn’t say that, okay?”
I flexed my quads. I could move, at least. Run if I had to.
“I know a few gay people back home,” she kept on. “It’s no big deal. Not to me. But maybe here… I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. I won’t tell anyone.”
My eyes rose to fix on hers.
“So, um, listen.” She flipped her hair. “Change of subject. What does one do on a Friday night in Cans Ass, USA?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. She knew gay people. Guys or girls? How well did she know them? What did she think of me really? I think she liked me. Forcing a light tone, I said, “Usually we hang out at the Dairy Delite and chug-a-lug Mr. Mistees.”
Xanadu frowned. Then she burst into laughter.
Jokes, I thought. She likes to laugh. “Or we drag Main, which takes about ten seconds. Sometimes we run the service road on both sides of the tracks and pitch cow pies in each other’s windows.”
Xanadu laughed louder. I smiled, and wished it was a joke.
She slugged me on the arm. The sun grew to a huge red orb and set the world on fire. Xanadu gasped. “Wow,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
I felt proud, as if the beauty of nature originated here. A Coalton creation. A reason for her to stay.
There were no words. Speaking would’ve spoiled it. We sat on the flatbed watching the sun sink slowly off the horizon and vanish into space. I wanted so much to put my arm around her, have her lay her head on my shoulder.
“What’s the best time you’ve ever had in Coalton, Kansas?” Xanadu asked quietly.
“I’ll have to think on that,” I answered. I didn’t have to think at all. Sitting here on a flatbed truck sharing a sunset with the most beautiful girl in the world? It doesn’t get any better than this.
Chapter Four
I snuck into Ma’s room a little after midnight. Her radio had clicked off an hour or so ago and she was propped against the headboard, mouth agape, breathing labored. Both pillows were crushed under her neck to keep her head up. It was the only position she could lie in anymore without suffocating herself.
I tiptoed past her fleshy mound and over to the double dresser. What I wanted was in the bottom drawer. I’d seen it there on Tuesday when I’d come in to get more undershirts and boxers. Ma had fallen asleep in front of the TV that night, giving me extra time to snoop.
I knelt in front of the dresser and lifted the brass handle. I pulled gently. Crap. The drawer was stuck. I gave it a tug. Nothing. I wedged my palm onto the edge of the frame and tugged harder. The drawer popped open and all the contents shifted, clinking and clanking around. I braced, holding my breath.
Why? It’s not like she’d yell at me. She didn’t speak to me. And it wasn’t like his stuff didn’t belong to me.
There was a lot of junk in this drawer. Five or six softballs rolling around, Dad’s mitt. All my team pictures. His stat book on me. I wouldn’t touch that. Presents I’d made him for birthdays and Father’s Days. I didn’t know he kept all this.
There it was—the lighter. The one with DMS engraved in the chrome. I snatched it up and flipped open the lid. I held it to my nose and inhaled. The smell of lighter fluid; the scent of him. I closed my eyes. Dad.
“Baby, don’t play with Daddy’s lighter.” He’d taken it away from me when I was little. “Here, I’ll show you how it works.” He popped the cap and his thumb flicked the spark wheel. Licks of flame. Orange, yellow, blue. I reached for it. “No, Mike. Hot. Don’t touch. I don’t want it to hurt you.” He closed the lid. “Nothing’s ever going to hurt my baby. Not if I can help it.”
My breath came out in short spurts. I thumbed the cap shut and clenched the lighter in a tight fist.
I felt eyes on me, watching.
I turned. Her eyelids fluttered. Was she awake? Aware? She gulped in an ugly snore and every pound of flesh on her shuddered.
A chill made me shudder.
How? How could he have ever loved her?
Jamie called me first thing Saturday morning. “Today’s the day, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Two years. Hard to believe. You going to River View?”
“I guess.”
“Want me to come?”
Did I? Yes. No. This was something I had to do alone. “Not necessary. But thanks.”
“Give Luigi my love. Or whatever.”
Whatever, I repeated to myself.
“See you at the game. Oh, did I mention I made up a new cheer for you?”
“Jamie,” I threatened, “don’t you dare embarrass me at the game.”
“Me? When have I ever embarrassed you?”
The phone buzzed in my ear. Damn Jamie. I downed the rest of my power shake and tossed a frozen bottle of water into my duffel. The game was in Garden City, a doubleheader, so I wouldn’t get back before two or three this afternoon. I considered snitching one of Mom’s frozen hoagies but didn’t want her to starve to death. Heaven forbid she’d miss a meal.
The back screen door rattled and a kid’s voice called in, “Pig slop for the big fat elephant.”
I crashed out to see who the mouth was. Too late. He’d cut across our yard and was halfway down the block. Probably one of the Tanner boys. They were all brats. Two boxes of groceries teetered on the edge of the crumbling back porch. How long had they been here? A little kid couldn’t have carried them.
Great. Now she was having it delivered. Why didn’t we just insert a feeding tube in her stomach? Tie on a feedbag? I don’t know why I was being so hateful today. Two years. Get over it.
I dug through the boxes: Banquet frozen dinners and Toaster Strudels and pies and doughnuts and greasy chicken from the deli. I’d be happy to do the shopping if she’d only ask.
Oh yeah. I forgot. I didn’t exist for her.
I hauled the boxes inside and started unloading, making as much racket as I could. Where was Darryl? In bed probably. He and his stock jocks had had a big Friday night dragging Main. On cue, Darryl padded into the kitchen. His gut hung over the waistband of his sloppy jeans. “Food,” he intoned. Snatching the Hostess box out of my hand, he ripped the tab open and popped a Donette into his mouth.
“You could at least help put these away,” I said.
“What do you think I’m doing?” He popped another Donette and smirked. His gnarly tufts of hair resembled the Ledbetters’ Persian cat that had to get shaved last summer. It had an abscess on its butt. Darryl was the abscess, his bald spot the butt. If he looked this way at twenty-four, he was going to be completely bald by thirty. Same as Dad.
I edged around him with a stack of frozen pies and crammed them into the freezer. “I’m taking the truck today,” I informed him. “I have a game in Garden City and I’m stopping by River View first.”
There was a long moment of silence, static in the air. If Darryl was going to fight about this—
“What time?” he asked.
“What time what?”
“What time are you leaving?”
“Why? You planning on coming?”
Darryl relieved me of the gallon jug of milk. “Maybe.”
“To River View?”
He cut me a death look. He’d never go there. “To your game.” He uncorked the plastic plug on the milk and glugged straight from the bottle.
I said flatly, “You’re coming to my game. Let me guess. You’re bringing Ma too. A show of family. Oh wow. I’m all choked up. I’ll save seats for you guys. Wait. I’d have to save the whole cheering section for her.”
Darryl just looked at me. I reciprocated the gesture. His eyes drifted down to my body, swept me head to foot. “You know, you look more like a guy every day,” he said.
“Thank you.” I elbowed past him.
“That crap you drink. What’s in it? Steroids?”
“Get real,” I muttered.
“You get real. I mean it, Mike. You’re getting too…”
I whirled on him.
“Hard,” he finished.
I smiled. Hard. Just what I wanted to be. Inside and out.
“You could, at the minimum, shave your pits.”
“Why? So you can glue the hair on your head?”
No response. Okay, it wasn’t that funny.
I kicked the second box over to him. “You finish this. I have to go.”
I helped myself to a hoagie from the top of the box. I’d earned it. Dropping the sandwich into my duffel, I double-checked my gear: cleats, batting gloves, a Tampax. I hoped to God I wouldn’t need it halfway through the game. Shouldering the duffel, I held a palm out to Darryl. “Keys?”
He dug into his jeans pocket. Then teased me with the keys so I had to grab for them. Butthead.
“Be back by three.” He trailed me to the screen door. “Me and Gordo are heading up to Oberlin to see his cousin about this funny car a guy wants to sell. We might go in on it together.”
Like I cared. Gordo was a gonad. All Darryl’s friends were. “Where are you getting the money for that?”
“It’s coming out of your inheritance,” he said.
That did it. “You’re not missing work, are you? Or didn’t you get the job at the Sup
Darryl came after me with a fist, but I slammed out the door. Even if he could catch me, which I doubted, he couldn’t hurt me. No more than he already had.
At the outskirts of town, I made a pit stop at Nel’s Tavern. As usual, Nel was on the phone behind the bar. She waved me in.
I slid onto a bar stool to wait. There was a clump of old timers at the end of the bar—truckers, railroad engineers, drunks. They barely glanced my way. Nel never refused to sell to me, and she probably should have. More than once I’d bought a quart bottle of Old Milwaukee and taken it home instead of to River View.
“How’s your ma?” Nel asked, hanging up.
I hated lying to Nel. She’d always been good to me and Darryl. “You know. The same.”
Nel sighed. She reached across the bar to cradle my chin, but I pulled back. Not today. I couldn’t handle her kindness today. Hers or anyone else’s.
“The usual?” she asked.
I nodded. She packaged the beer and rang up my sale. I handed her a ten and she counted out change. As I grabbed the paper bag by the neck of the bottle, Nel held on and said, “Tell your ma I’ll try to stop by to see her soon.”
Like me and Ma talked. “Okay.” I separated from Nel and swiveled off my stool.
“She’s been through a lot, Mike,” Nel said at my back.
We’ve all been through a lot, okay? You don’t see me giving up on life, do you? I didn’t say it. I didn’t dare. Instead, I stiff-armed through the door, thinking this beer might not make it to River View.
“Hey, watch it,” someone barked in my ear. “What’s your rush?”