Page 77 of The Way I Used to Be
“You’re drunk, Edy. You’re really drunk and that guy was trying to take advantage of you! You’re lucky I came in when I did,” he says, dead serious, as if getting taken advantage of would be the worst thing that could happen, as if that wasn’t something that happens to girls on a daily basis.
“Take advantage ofme?” I laugh, hysterically. “Me?” It’s funny. “Are you drunk, Caelin?” I mean to shove his shoulder, but I just fall into him. “It’s more like the other way around, if you wanna know. Don’t you get it? I’m not your sweet, stupid, innocent little sister. I’m not—”
“All right, all right, just stop.” He puts his hand up as if he can just shut me up with nothing more than a small gesture. He looks around like he’s embarrassed.
“No. What do you think? Do you think that I don’t drink and smoke and fuck—”
“Jesus Christ, Eden!”
“Oh, sorry—have sex, or make love—what do you call it?”
“Stop.”
“Do you think I haven’t had sex with hundreds of guys, Caelin?”
“Shut up!”
“Okay, maybe not hundreds. More like a hundred, give or take a few, of course.” So, the exact number would have been sixteen had we not been interrupted, but I’ll bet if I included all the ones I’ve messed around with and not actually had sex-sex with, it probably comes close. And one hundred just sounds so much more appalling than a measly fifteen. Sometimes just messing around is enough. Not lately, though. Lately, nothing seems like enough.
“Shut up, Edy, I mean it!” he says under his breath, through his teeth.
“Edy,” I hear behind me. I turn around quickly, lose my balance. Caelin grabs my arm. I shrug it off. “We’ve been looking for you.” It’s Mara, with Cameron and Steve trailing behind. “What’s wrong?” she asks, looking back and forth between me and Caelin.
“What’s wrong, Mara?” Caelin shouts. “Neither of you should be here!” Then he stares down Cameron and Steve. “And who the hell are you?”
I decide to make the introductions: “Caelin, this is Cameron, Mara’s boyfriend, and he’s so wonderful and dreamy and he doesn’t need to get wasted to have a good time, you’d like him, he’s the designated driver. And this”—I throw my arm around Steve’s shoulder—“this is Steve. But you don’t have to worry about Steve. Don’t let his appearance fool you—he may look like an ordinary guy, but he’s just a shy little dork underneath, right Steve?”
I turn my head to look at him, but my feet follow and my body sways into his. I grip on to his shoulder tighter, trying to balance, and he pulls me up straight. “See?” I laugh. “What I’m saying is Steve is a nice guy, Caelin—such a nice, decent guy—but—” I shout, pausing to catch my breath. “But he did invite me to his darkroom and he’s my date. My date, Caelin. Yes, I came here with a date!” I feel Steve slither out from under my arm, but I don’t take my eyes off Caelin’s face—I want to memorize everything about his reaction.
“Edy, please, please, please just shut the fuck up!” he screams. I record it, try so hard to brand it all into my brain—his cheeks turning pink, the vein in his temple pulsing, his voice unsteady, his hands shaking—the way he’s losing control.
“Hey, hey, now—” Mara starts to defend me.
“No, it’s okay!” I scream, louder than I meant to. “Caelin is just having some trouble dealing with the fact that his sister’s a big whore. Right, Cae? That is what it is, right? Or is there something else that’s bothering you?”
He looks at me, for just a moment, really at me, and he looks so angry, angry enough to hit me, maybe. I almost wish he would, because that would feel better than being eternally ignored by him, better than being made to feel like I’m just some inconsequential speck of dust dirtying up his otherwise immaculate life. But then the moment passes as quickly as it came—he doesn’t see me anymore.
“Look, she is way too drunk,” he says, turning to the three of them. “Can you guys get her home, or not?” he asks, pretending I don’t exist, a game he plays even better than basketball.
“Yeah, man. Sure. We will, I promise,” Cameron says, nodding his head all serious and responsible-like. I feel like screamingGO FUCK YOURSELFto everyone within earshot, Caelin, Cameron, Steve, Mara even, the people standing around staring at us, Rachael, that would-be-sixteen guy, Kevin, if he’s around, which I’m sure he is.
Caelin walks away. Doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say another word. Just walks away from me. Everybody gives me these sideways looks of uncomfortable pity, like I had just lost some really important game. Whatever it was that we were playing, they all seemed to think I was the loser. I wasn’t. He lost! He was the loser. They were all losers. Not me.
“Are you okay?” Mara asks me, touching my shoulder.
“Yeah, of course.” I snort. I’m tough. I can take it. So what?
“Honey, you’re crying,” she says, looking worried.
“I am not!” That’s ridiculous. But I rub at my eyes with the back of my sleeves and it leaves two dirty, black streaks from my mascara.
“She never cries,” she tells Cameron and Steve.
“I can hear you, and I’m not crying! Maybe my eyes are watering from some reason, but not because I’m crying,” I shout.
Nobody really says much the whole way home.
Caelin doesn’t speak to me at all the next day. Needless to say, we don’t have our special brother-sister outing like he wanted. And he’s gone by the time I wake up Sunday morning.
