Page 58 of Fade into You
Mom goes to pick up the bowl and I can see a scowl on her face. I’ve never had a girl over before. They assume we slept together, of course, because lesbians can’t have friends that are girls. I mean, we did—sort of, like not all the way—but we did kiss, we did share the bed, we did touch….
I know I’m beet red when Dad clears his throat and says, “Oh, Bird, is that your friend with the project? The one you used my CD burner for? You two are getting to be good pals.”
“Kostas…” my mom murmurs low. I know she’s not okay with his support.
“Grace, I’m excited to meet one of her school friends other than Dade, I think it’s good she’s finally diversifying,” he says, then goes back to his magazine.
“Kostas, I really think—”
“She had to help me get Mack home last night,” I blurt out, suddenly ashamed on a whole new level. Definitely not wanting to get my parents in an argument. I have no fight left. “Mack wasstarting a fight at the Touchstone. She’s not doing well.”
The confession has a nicely sterilizing effect on the previous conversation. I see them exchangewe don’t talk about thisfaces, and then I decide to push forward.
“She’s cycling fast, she went from manic to depressed in minutes last night, I think it’s time to—”
“I think it’s time for you to wake your friend and see if she wants walnuts or chocolate chips in her waffle,” Mom interrupts me.
“Seriously? She needs more—”
“Jessamine, listen to your mother,” Dad cuts me off. He won’t even look at me. This is so fucked.
I wait a second to see if either of them will even consider what I’m suggesting. More hospital, more rehab, more outpatient therapy, more pretending we aren’t on the fourth go-round of this. But Dad is buried in his copy ofWiredand Mom is cracking eggs and reaching for the vanilla. I roll my eyes and head back upstairs, coffee in hand, trading one uncomfortable situation for another.
When I get back to my room, I see Bird is sitting up in bed, with the confused look of the just awake. She glances over at me and a half smile crosses her face. I can’t tell what it means. Is she upset or okay with things? What if last night wasn’t okay? What if it was?
“Hey, Jessa,” she says softly.
“Hi.” I actually wave at her. Smooth move, Ex-Lax.
She pats a spot on the bed beside her, but that is the way of trouble. I pull my desk chair over and sit, looking down atmy hands, picking at already chipped nail polish, not sure what to say, not wanting to look up and see her beauty and know I shouldn’t have it. I don’t deserve it.
“So, Mom wants to know if you want walnuts or chocolate chips in your waffles.”
“O-kay,” she says, drawing it out to show she’s unsettled. Great, I’m unsettling.
“So chocolate or walnuts, or I guess we could do both?” So fucking awkward.
“Jessa?” She stands up, is close to me, too close; I cringe, knowing I shouldn’t want to lean into her arms, wrap myself around her, take her back into bed. But she smells like peach sorbet and honeysuckle, and I’m fighting everything in me not to touch.
“Jessa, will you look at me?” She reaches gently toward me and tilts my chin with her hand and Iwill not cry. I jump up and grab my mug of coffee from the desk.
“Dad made coffee. It’s jet fuel, but it does the job.”
Great, I hope she doesn’t think I’m intimating that it’ll make her poop. “So, it’ll wake you up, I mean.” I am graceless.
“Jessa, are you okay?”
“Last night was a lot, I mean with Mack, and I, I dunno, just still processing.”
She nods like she’s thinking it over inside.
“But it was a fun time, like getting smoked out together, that was cool.” Play it cool, maybe she’ll want it like Natalie, a little fun in secret and then back to the bong.
“Yeah, it was nice,” she agrees.
“Super fun.”
“Fun,”she repeats, but she doesn’t look like anything is fun now. She looks upset.
