Absorbed

Chapter Twelve

S tacey laid in bed thinking of their kiss the night before. She needed to know as much about Jessie as she could before their date without him finding out. Remembering that Mary Jo was Christian Club president and had invited her in the first place, Stacey dialed her number without hesitation. We’ve been friends since kindergarten…sort of. She’ll know. She leaned back against the giant Eeyore she kept on her bed.

“Hey MJ,” Stacey said when Mary Jo answered the phone.

“Stacey?” Mary Jo sounded surprised. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering… how well do you know Jessie?”

“Jessie Thomas?”

As if there were a million Jessies in Christian club? “Yeah. Does he go to your church? What can you tell me about him?” Murphy laid her head on Stacey’s lap with a contented sigh. She rubbed Murphy’s soft ear fur between her fingers, staring up at the rotating ceiling fan.

“I don’t really know him. He only came a few times. I’m not sure he goes to church, actually.”

“Oh… I thought he was super religious?”

“What makes you think he’s ‘super religious’? It seemed like he wanted an excuse to play guitar at club meetings. He met a lot of girls that way. He didn’t lead prayer…ever. Or share his testimony or anything. He didn’t even know how to play Christian songs. He sort of strummed along.”

Stacey’s mind was spinning. “But what about the crown of thorns on his arm?”

“That generic tribal tattoo?” Mary Jo scoffed.

After the call, Stacey sat staring out the window, dumbfounded. Does that mean he isn’t actually a Christian? She considered all the other assumptions she’d made about Jessie.

Murphy nudged Stacey’s hand with her warm, damp nose.

Stacey looked down into her golden retriever’s chocolatey eyes. “What if he thought the same things about me?” I don’t know if I’m a Christian either, to be honest.

Murphy lifted one eyebrow without raising her head from Stacey’s lap.

“Was Christian Club Jessie’s scam to meet girls?” Stacey asked Murphy.

Stacey laid back on the bed and closed her eyes, remembering their kiss only a few hours before. The way Jessie’s hand felt pulling her to him, his teeth tugging her lip. She dragged the tip of her index finger across the chapped skin on her bottom lip. He knew just what to do. She was so awkward. A sick, excited, nervous feeling seeped into her stomach again as she thought of their date. Seriously? This is exactly what you wanted!

The phone in Stacey’s hand rang. She sat up quickly, hoping she’d somehow willed Jessie to call her. Inhaling, she pressed the on button. “Hello?”

“Hey… Stace.” There was a hesitation in Gabe’s voice. They hadn’t talked since the concert the weekend before.

“Hi, Gabe.” She hoped she didn’t sound too disappointed. She wasn’t ready to tell Gabe about Jessie. “How are you?”

“You still mad at me?”

Stacey sighed. “I wasn’t mad. I was…embarrassed. Sorry I was such a poser that day.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Did you have fun?”

“The show was good. But…can we forget about the rest of that day?”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“My family’s having a big barbecue. My mom said you should come.”

Stacey chuckled. “Glad to know your mom wants me there.”

“Shut up. I called, didn’t I?”

“Aww…thanks. Too bad I can’t. I have to go to my dad’s. Wanna come with me?”

“I’ve gotta stick around here. Help my parents cook and clean up and stuff. You sure you can’t get out of it?”

“My stepmom has been guilt-tripping me since Dad got me the car. But I hate being alone there.”

“Sucks. It’d be nice to…hang out, you know?”

Stacey exhaled. “Yeah. Sucks.”

“ Cable Guy came out. Wanna go tomorrow night?” Gabe sounded hopeful.

Shit, Stacey thought. She’d promised him she’d go as soon as it released, and totally forgot. It had already been a couple of weeks. But now she had a date with Jessie to watch the meteor shower. No way would she tell Gabe about that. “I’m sorry! A group of us are going to see Independence Day tomorrow.” Her voice faltered on the word ‘tomorrow.’ She spoke faster to avoid tripping on any more of the words. “It’s a work thing. Maybe we could see Cable Guy Saturday?”

Only a little white lie. Stacey chewed her fingernail.

“Fun for you.” His disappointment weighed heavily through the phone. “I close Saturday.”

“Then we’ll go Sunday. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah.” Gabe exhaled. “Gotta go. Call me later?”

“Sure,” Stacey replied. “Bye.” But Gabe had already dropped the line.

Stacey flopped back on the bed and let the phone roll from her hand. She stared at the ceiling, her head and heart spinning as fast as the fan above her. She’d never lied to Gabe before. She grabbed the roots of her hair with both hands and tugged, groaning, then dragged her hands down her face. She always chose Gabe over everyone else.

But now she had Jessie. All she could think was how she wanted to be kissed by him again. Gabe might never want to kiss her the way Jessie did.

Stacey’s feelings about Gabe and Jessie swirled like bold colors on a blank, wet page. When she thought of Gabe, she envisioned her watercolor brush tip thoughtfully easing dark green and steel gray rivers on the page with ribbons of vivid magenta running through them. With Jessie it felt more like wild splatters of bold yellow and navy blue and bright orange.

The combination of the two felt uncomfortable, like looking at Ms. Moreno’s abstract roses. Like all her emotions were colliding into one big, undecipherable blob where the colors ran together into a muddy mess.

There was a tap on her bedroom door. Stacey blinked and the watercolor vision was gone. “Come in.” She turned her head to the side, glaring at the door as it opened.

“Doodle Bug, you need to hit the road soon.” Her mom leaned into the room, holding the door handle and door frame for support. “There’s gonna be a lot of traffic. You said Jackie wanted you there by two.”

“Ugh… I know…”

“Well, I’m leaving for Aunt Susie’s. Later I’ll be at that barbecue I told you about, so I won’t be here when you get home.”

“Who’s having a barbecue?”

“A guy I know from work.”

“Like…he’s a stylist? Or you cut his hair,” Stacey sneered, “and he invited you over for the Fourth of July?”

“It’s not like that. There’s a big group of us. Drive safe, okay? And don’t wait up.”

The door closed before Stacey could respond. She looked at the digital clock on her nightstand. 11:45. With a two-hour drive ahead of her, and considering she was still unshowered, she was definitely going to be late. Whatever. This party is for their friends, anyway.

Stacey scratched beneath Murphy’s chin. “I’ve gotta get through today at Dad’s, Murph. But my date with Jessie tomorrow will be the real celebration!”

She went to her closet to find something patriotic to put on.

More than three hours later, Stacey climbed out of her old Honda parallel parked between a brand-new Range Rover and a vintage Rolls Royce, and realized she should have worn something a little nicer. She tugged at the hem of her denim skirt and pulled up on her red spaghetti strap tank to cover her cleavage, looking down quickly to make sure the laces of her white Converse were tied. She locked her car, then laughed at the absurd thought of someone breaking into the Silver Bullet in this neighborhood.

The street in front of her dad’s house was jam-packed with cars, so Stacey had to walk a block and a half past perfectly manicured lawns and trimmed hedges before making her way up the long, steep driveway. Nothing in Marina Vista resembled the trailer parks and brown lawns of Mesa Valley. Each mini- mansion she passed was bigger than three of the houses Stacey lived in with her mom.

Lining her dad’s driveway were rows of freshly planted flowers in shades of red, white, and deep purple. Couldn’t they just hang up a flag? The driveway was so crammed with cars, at the top Stacey had to slide sideways between her dad’s navy BMW and her stepmother’s silver Mercedes.

The ten-foot tall, cut-glass adorned double front door stood ajar, welcoming Stacey and anyone else who happened upon it into their home.

“No flies or strangers in the OC, I guess,” Stacey mumbled, combing her fingers through her hair and pulling on her skirt again. The frosty air conditioning blew overhead as she slowly crossed the threshold into the immense marble entryway.

Thanks to the wall of windows across the back of the house, Stacey could see past the white-on-white couches and grand piano in the formal living room, directly into the backyard, where dozens of people mingled around the pool deck with cocktails in hand.

Jackie, Stacey’s stepmother, had insisted the giant kidney-shaped swimming pool with multiple waterfalls be visible from every room in the house, and be the centerpiece of attention as soon as guests arrived. On either side of the pool, white tents were set up with tables and buffets. Between the guests, Stacey could see caterers carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres.

Her dad loved being the bartender for his friends. His bar was set up in the shade close to the living room windows, his back turned to her. Guests were smiling and laughing as he animatedly told the group something while shaking a cocktail, sweat drenching the back of his red, white, and blue Hawaiian shirt.

Stacey squeezed her shoulder blades together, steeling herself for the performance she needed to put on for her dad’s friends. “It’s only a couple of hours. You can do this,” she muttered. Her feet wouldn’t budge.

“Stacey?” Jackie’s voice sliced over clacking footfalls coming from the hall to her right. Stacey turned to see her stepmother coming toward her from the kitchen, her arms outstretched. “I was wondering when you’d finally get here.”

Jackie wore crimson stilettos and white cropped pants, with a ruffled red sleeveless blouse tucked in. She fit the role of Orange County country club housewife perfectly. Jackie’s long French-manicured acrylic nails gripped Stacey’s upper arms and she stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “You’re more than an hour late!”

Not for the first time, Stacey took in the false eyelashes and platinum blonde chignon, wondering what the attraction had ever been between her dad and her own mother. Her mom and Jackie were polar opposites in every way.

Stacey pulled a smile to her lips. “Hi, Jackie.” She let Jackie air kiss each of her cheeks. “Sorry. Traffic.”

“I wanted you to visit with your dad before the party started. We needed another pair of hands setting up.” Jackie sighed, taking Stacey by the elbow and leading her toward the kitchen.

“I accidentally overslept. It was a late night.”

Beside the sub-zero, Jackie let go, and Stacey rubbed the spot where she’d been held. In the blue and white Italian mosaic tiled kitchen, three caterers bustled about in white smocks, one at the Viking stove, one arranging slices of meats and cheeses on a platter, and another at the oversized porcelain sink.

From beside a case of Champagne on the edge of the counter, Jackie picked up a large, shining silver bucket, her hands carefully holding the handles to avoid marking the chrome with fingerprints, and pushed it toward Stacey. “Take this ice out to Chuck so he’ll know you’re here, then come right back. I have a lot more to go out to the buffet.” Jackie’s voice edged up. “Thanks!”

Stacey turned and rolled her eyes, gripping the metal bucket to her belly, all ten fingers smudging the shiny surface. She smirked, imagining a look of annoyance crossing Jackie’s face behind her as she walked away.

Stacey followed the sound of laughter and voices echoing off the surface of the pool through the French doors. The sunny backyard was hedged in by bougainvillea, palm, and citrus trees, designed to feel like a Hawaiian resort. Music played from speakers tucked behind bird of paradise plants. Stacey eyed the buffet table that belonged more at the Four Seasons than at a Fourth of July barbecue. There were chocolate-covered strawberries and a platter of giant shrimp on ice. The fruit and vegetable platters were adorned with a watermelon whale and a zucchini boat sculpture.

“Stacey!” Maureen, her dad’s neighbor yelled from beside the bar, her upper arm waving back and forth in conjunction with the hand she flapped above her head. She was heavy set, wearing a royal blue silk muumuu-style dress and a huge brimmed white hat. “Chuck, Stacey’s here!” She hit Stacey’s dad on the shoulder, the martini in her hand sloshing out in the process.

“My baby girl!” Chuck announced to his friends, his booming voice echoing off the stucco and windows that surrounded his corner bar.

Stacey blushed and dragged her feet around the group. They lifted their drinks up, cheering, as she passed. Are they all drunk already? Stacey sidled up to her dad, who took his cigarette from his mouth with his free hand so he could give her a side hug and kiss her on the top of her head. He’d been mixing a bright yellow margarita and as he clenched the cup to her outside shoulder, her arm got damp. Her dad’s distinct scent of tobacco and sweat enveloped her and the people awaiting drinks gave a collective, “Awww.”

“Jackie asked me to bring you this,” Stacey said when he pulled away, holding up the ice bucket, but unsure where to set it. The small bar was jam packed with multiple bottles of every kind and color of liquor imaginable.

Chuck put the cigarette back between his lips, then spoke around it. “Set it back there.” He nodded to a small table behind him, covered with stacks of clear plastic cups that were supposed to look like glasses.

Stacey made room and set down the ice bucket, then looked around. She couldn’t see anything non-alcoholic to drink.

“Want a virgin daiquiri, Bug?”

“Can I have a soda?”

“Sure. I’ve got a few in here for mixers,” he said, nodding to the corner beside him where a large ice chest was hidden. He stepped out of the way and continued mixing the margarita in his hand, so she could slip past him. Stacey dug through dozens of Heinekens and tonic waters until she finally found a Coke.

“Tell Jackie I’m out of limes, okay Bug?” he asked as she slipped back out from behind the bar.

“Sure.” Stacey nodded. She started back to find Jackie as instructed.

“Wait!” Maureen’s flushed face blocked Stacey’s path to the kitchen. “Tell me all about school!”

“Hi, Maureen. How are you?”

“I’m good. Just back from a week shopping on the Champs-élysées. You know: my annual trip to Paris with my girls! They would love to see you! It’s been far too long. What’ve you been up to? You’re a senior now, right?”

Maureen smelled like a bar, but didn’t slur her words in the slightest, and her lipstick was always meticulous. Stacey wanted to ask how she managed that in the heat, while eating and drinking. “Yeah, I’m a senior. I’ve been lifeguarding.”

A thin woman sidled up beside Maureen. “You’ve been in the sun,” she said to Stacey. Her face–pointed like a cat’s–was vaguely familiar. Stacey thought she might be one of Jackie’s closest friends. “Be careful. You may have that perfect tropical glow now, but…,” she said, then leaned in to whisper in Stacey’s ear. “You don’t want wrinkles!”

Stacey recognized the sickly-sweet wine smell heavy on each breathy word. She raised her eyebrows, but nodded. The woman was at least seventy and looked like she’d gotten more plastic surgery than everyone in Mesa Valley combined.

“Stacey,” Jackie called from the back door. “Sorry, Maureen. Liz. I need Stacey’s help for a minute.”

“Of course!” Maureen called over to her, then turned back to Stacey. “Come talk to me some more once you’ve finished up, okay doll?”

Stacey smiled and nodded. She walked toward the house, sipping her soda and wondering if it was possible to get drunk off the breath of her dad’s friends.

An hour later, Jackie had exhausted her list of tasks for Stacey, and told her to grab a plate of food. Eyeing tables full of strangers, Stacey made a beeline for the diving board when her dad waved her over.

“Stace! Tell us about your summer so far.”

Chairs scraped noisily as the group opened a space at the table for Stacey to squeeze in. Jackie instructed a caterer to bring over an extra chair. Stacey set her food down and pulled the rented white folding chair under her. As she was taking her first bite, her father’s friends hurled questions at her.

“Where are you lifeguarding?” asked a man Stacey believed was her dad’s colleague.

“The community pool,” she replied, covering her mouth as she chewed and spoke. “In Mesa Valley.”

Jackie’s mouth pursed in distaste.

“I bet you make good money. Smart girl,” Maureen said. “Where are you applying to college? That’s coming up, you know. Hope you’re making plans!”

Stacey gritted her teeth behind her forced smile, nodding. Of course I know it’s coming up! I’ve been working toward this for as long as I can remember. She swallowed and took a sip of soda to clear her mouth, minding her manners more closely. “Probably Berkeley, USC, Stanford, UCLA…”

“No East Coast schools?” Maureen tsked. Her face turned serious. “The Ivy Leagues are much better than what’s available here. Chuck, tell your daughter she needs to look at schools outside of California.”

“Oh, Maureen,” Chuck said. “Give her a break.”

Jackie chimed in. “I’m sure she’s considering all her options. Stacey’s top of her class. She’ll get in wherever she decides to go.”

Oh, really? How would you know?

“Stacey,” Maureen waved away their indifference. “Listen to me. You should consider applying to at least Brown and Cornell. They’d be lucky to have you. Vassar, too! Far superior universities.”

Stacey grinned, blinking. Are you planning to foot the bill for those, Maureen? Is there anyone who would even take me to visit those schools?

“She has plenty of time,” Chuck told Maureen. He looked across the table at Stacey, grinning with that hazy glint in his eye Stacey knew all too well. “I’m so proud of my little girl,” he said, lifting his glass. “To Stacey!”

The group raised their cups to toast her. Stacey held tight to her fake smile and fought the urge to walk away from the table. Lifting her warm can of Coke, she held it steady as ten plastic cocktail cups thunked against it.

After another hour discussing her job and future plans with random strangers, Stacey’s self-imposed two hour minimum had long passed, and she was ready to leave. Her dad was occupied with a group of guys and a couple of putters at the corner of the lawn. She didn’t want to risk the onslaught of their attention by interrupting him.

“Tell Dad I said bye,” Stacey told Jackie, who she found restocking the chocolate covered strawberries at the buffet.

“You’re not staying for the fireworks?” Jackie whined.

“I have to be at the pool at eight tomorrow. It’s a long drive. Thanks for inviting me.” Stacey initiated a generous hug with her stepmother, willing to do whatever she had to do to make it to the exit quickly.

While Stacey navigated two hours of gridlock on three freeways, fireworks danced across the sky. She kept the windows down and the radio off to listen to the booms, pops, and crackles over the whir of cars passing. The sparkling blossoms of color reignited Stacey’s excitement, as she imagined her date the next night, holding hands with Jessie under shooting stars.

As she pulled into the driveway, illegal fireworks were still exploding on neighboring streets, but no one on Stacey’s block was outside. She locked her car. The scent of smoke mixed with sulfur still lingered in the air. Out of habit, Stacey looked past the chain link fence to ensure the dry brush behind their house wasn’t burning. The smell of smoke scared her after too many long fire seasons.

Opening the front door, Stacey realized the air conditioner was running. “Mom?” she called out, then remembered her mom was planning to stay late at the barbecue. Murphy was afraid of fireworks, so her mom wouldn’t have taken the dog with her. No wonder the AC is actually on. In the past, Murphy had broken screens to escape through open windows during fireworks. Stacey scrunched up her nose at the pungent scent of urine. She flipped on the lights in the living room and found a puddle on the carpet by the back door. The glass was covered in nose and paw marks, like Murphy had been scrambling to open the door.

“Murphy?” Stacey called.

She grabbed several paper towels and tossed them on top of the mess, then looked for Murphy. After checking under the kitchen table and behind the couch, she called out “Murphy” repeatedly, her panic rising when there was no response and the space under her bed was bare. Finally, in the corner of her mom’s closet, behind long coats and dresses, Stacey found her dog curled on the floor, panting and shaking.

“Oh, Murph, it’s okay.” Stacey’s voice cracked with relief. She sat on the floor beside the closet and rubbed Murphy’s ears and neck.

Murphy whined, backing further into the corner.

“Shhhh… You’re okay. I’m sorry you were all alone. I’m here now.” Stacey’s eyes misted as her dog looked up at her, still too afraid to inch out of the closet. “Come on, girl. You’re okay. You can come out now.”

Slowly, Murphy staggered to her paws, her legs unsteady, then sat again, shaking, with long dresses draped around her head.

The closet was humid as Stacey leaned in, wrapping Murphy in a hug, and feeling the dog’s heart pounding against her own chest. Stacey closed her eyes, inhaling the damp scent of dog breath, and continued to make shushing sounds.

“Arwoooo,” Murphy yawned, ending in that high-pitched squeak that sounded more dolphin than dog.

The phone rang on her mom’s bedside table and Murphy jolted backward, shaking more frantically. Stacey ignored the ringing and held her mouth next to Murphy’s ear, making calming shushing sounds. After the rings stopped, Murphy’s panting slowed, and she stood again. Stacey backed out of the closet. Murphy stepped her front paws out, but kept her body close to Stacey’s.

“Good girl,” Stacey cooed, running her fingers through Murphy’s long golden fur. Still trembling and panting, Murphy gently licked Stacey’s cheek, then climbed into Stacey’s lap, bumping her head against Stacey’s temple, as if encouraging Stacey to embrace her again.

Several minutes passed before the fireworks ended.

“Come on.” Stacey gently shifted Murphy’s weight off her lap, then stood and patted her thigh. “You need some water, sweet girl.”

Murphy trotted close beside Stacey’s legs and they made their way in tandem down the hall to the kitchen. Stacey filled the dog bowl with fresh water and set it down. Murphy began lapping it up.

Stacey stretched, arching her back. The wall clock read 11:15 and the answering machine was blinking. She clicked play and the familiar robotic voice reverberated off the Formica countertop. “You have two messages. Message one.”

Music and a man’s laughter erupted from the machine before Stacey heard her mom’s voice. “Heyyyy, honeeeey.” She was giggly and slurring. “I’m gonna stay here ta-night.” Here? Where’s ‘here’? Who is this guy?’ “Call Suuu-sie if ya need any-thing,” she said loudly over the party, then hung up.

“Lovely.” Stacey eyed the mess on the carpet and pressed delete.

“Message deleted,” the machine announced. “Final message.”

“Uh, hi Stacey.” Gabe’s voice dragged, sounding irritated. “It’s like ten-thirty. I figured you’d be home by now. I’ve gotta work early tomorrow but I finish at noon. Maybe if you’re free before you go out with your work friends we could go to Tower Records or something? Gimme a call.”

Stacey bit her bottom lip and hit delete.

“You have no more messages.”

Sorry, Gabe.