Chapter Fifteen
S tacey laid awake, curled up on the floor, most of the night. Her body felt broken all over, but when she went to the bathroom, she saw she was physically fine.
She heard the front door open and close, followed by the sound of Greg’s truck pulling away. She pretended to be asleep when her mom opened the door to her bedroom, the light from the hallway burning through Stacey’s raw eyelids. She held them closed until the door clicked shut again.
Stacey searched the popcorn ceiling for answers, debating and hating herself. You’re such a slut. No, sex is totally normal. You made the biggest mistake of your life. Maybe it’s not a big deal at all. Don’t freak out…yet.
She considered whether Jessie still liked her, or ever really did. She ran through dozens of things she wanted to say to him, to ask him, and how he might respond. How many people have you slept with? Please say there WAS a condom that I didn’t see?
The green glow of the digital time on her nightstand taunted her. It was too bright. Too offensive as the minutes and hours ticked by. It was the same glow that was in the car, reflecting off Jessie’s stupid puka shell necklace. She unplugged it and threw the clock across the room, into her closet.
“Stacey, it was only sex,” she imagined Jessie saying in his dumb, nothings-that- big-of-a-deal voice . “Chill out.” “I’m SOOO into you!” “Everyone does it.”
She bit her pillow to prevent herself from screaming louder than the voices in her head.
As the first morning light glowed outside her window, Stacey felt mentally, physically, and emotionally wrung dry. It was Saturday. She was due to work the morning shift at the pool at eight.
Up and down the street neighbors began mowing lawns as soon as the sun rose, before the heat of the day settled in. The rev of a John Deere motor next door startled her. Stacey didn’t think she’d slept at all.She gnawed the nail of her right middle finger until she heard her mom’s bedroom door squeak open, followed by the thunk of the front door. Once the minivan puttered away, Stacey untangled herself from her bedspread.
After letting Murphy out, she took several long slow gulps of water from the kitchen faucet, then looked up at the time on the microwave, considering whether it was too late to call in sick. She had thirty minutes to be at the pool and couldn’t even muster the energy to come up with a good lie.
She glared at her painting of the aurora borealis on the fridge. Every hope she’d had for her date with Jessie, the magic of wishing on shooting stars with him by her side, felt bogus. Like seeing something so beautiful and magical as the northern lights would ever be possible for her, either. She pulled the watercolor off the fridge and ripped it in half, dropping the two pieces on the Formica countertop, and dragged herself to the bathroom.
She stared for a full minute at her red-rimmed, puffy eyes and swollen, pink nose. Her tank top was stretched, and her right bra strap had slid down her shoulder. Purple pools hung beneath her eyes. Her cheeks and brows were stained with mascara. Looking at her reflection brought on another wave of disgust. She splashed cold water on her cheeks, trying not to look at the mirror, and noticed her good red swimsuit from The Outlet in a damp heap in the shower.
Back in her bedroom, she yanked off her clothes and kicked the pile under her bed. She pulled on the ugly, granny-panty red suit, covering it with the Nirvana T-shirt and boxers that she’d worn for dinner. She slipped into her Birkenstocks and grabbed her keys.
Mark was unlocking the pool’s entrance at 8:03 when the Silver Bullet’s tires screeched into a front space in the parking lot. Stacey didn’t stop fast enough, and her front right tire went up and over the parking block.
“Goddammit!” Stacey hit the steering wheel.
As she reversed, she scraped the underside of her car, and the bumper thumped one final time before she pulled the parking brake.
Mark and Tiffany surveilled the scene, Tiffany covering her mouth with both hands. Mark left the keys hanging in the lock and offered Stacey an amused golf clap.
Stacey turned off the ignition and leaned her head back.
Chad eased out of his blue Chevelle next to her, checking the side of his own vehicle before he leaned down to look under the front of her car. He knocked on Stacey’s passenger window, and raised his eyebrows at her. “You okay?” he asked.
Stacey nodded. At least Bob wasn’t there to punish her for being late. With this crew, she had a narrow possibility of actually making it through her shift.
Stacey began to reach for the CD case, then remembered it was Jessie who had left it on the floor. The Chris Isaak disc would be in there. And the Fugees. Along with every CD she’d played the past month to impress Jessie. Leaving the case where it was, she locked her car. She wouldn’t be the pool’s disc jockey. Not today.
Inside the main office, Mark sat at the desk rubbing his face and yawning like a yeti. When his glazed eyes caught Stacey’s, she thought he looked like she felt.
“Have a rough night, Chapman? Party too hard?” Mark asked.
Stacey blinked slowly at him, but didn’t respond.
“Interesting…” Mark said.
“Believe whatever the hell you want.” Stacey threw open the door of her locker, and tossed her keys and towel inside. Her sunscreen toppled over, clanging against her whistle. She turned to Tiffany. “Need me to clean the girls’ bathroom?”
“You sure? Only if you want to.” Tiffany’s voice tinkled like a xylophone. “Or I can. Whatever’s best for you. I don’t mind.”
Stacey resented Tiffany’s smile. It was too big. Too happy. Stacey peered into her locker for nothing more than an excuse to turn away. “It’s fine,” she mumbled, kicking off her Birkenstocks and stepping into her flip-flops. “I got it.”
Tiffany followed her out the door, gently touching her elbow once they were outside. “Stacey,” she said quietly. “Is everything okay?”
Stacey gazed at the bleachers behind Tiffany, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t sleep well.”
Tiffany twisted her fingers together. “It looks like you’ve been crying.”
Stacey shrugged and began chewing what little remained of her right thumbnail. She tasted blood.
“We’re friends, Stace. If you need anyone to talk to, I’m here.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” Stacey grabbed the hose and dragged it into the girl’s locker room. She sprinkled antibacterial powder across the bathroom and changing room’s concrete floors, over the dingy honeycomb tiles in the base of the showers.
Are Tiffany and I actually friends? She squeezed the spray nozzle trigger and began hosing out the shower. She’d laughed so hard playing Uno with Tiffany and the guys on Wednesday, waiting in line at the movies. How was that only three days ago?
All that happened since the movie night flooded Stacey’s mind. Her first kiss with Jessie. Their date that wasn’t a date at all. Not knowing for sure how he felt about her. Every possible consequence that still might be.
Stacey felt water pooling around her ankles. She let go of the trigger on the nozzle, the stream of water becoming a drizzle. She could hear the drain in the center of the stalls glugging for air. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
At the door of the guard shack, Stacey leaned in and told Mark the shower drain was clogged.
Without turning around, Mark pointed at a plunger in the corner.
Stacey pushed the door open all the way. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
Mark turned in his chair. “Just like a toilet.” He demonstrated holding the plunger with his hands. “Push down as many times as you have to to get the water to go down.”
“What? Really? I don’t know how to do that.”
“You’re a smart girl,” he said, turning back to the desk. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Why the fuck does everyone expect me to figure everything out on my own? What is wrong with you people?” She threw her hands in the air and stomped over to grab the plunger.
Mark mumbled, “Maybe it’s because you refuse to ask for help.”
“I just did!” She stood in front of him, scowling. “You told me to do it myself!”
“Actually…” Mark turned to look at her. “You didn’t ask for help.” He lifted his thumb. “First, you announced the problem with the shower drain.” He lifted his index finger. “Then, you said you didn’t know what to do with a plunger.” He lifted his middle finger. “Finally, you said you don’t know how to push down on a plunger, which, frankly, I don’t believe. But, you didn’t ever actually ask for help from anyone.” He swiveled back toward the desk. “You never do.”
Stacey gawked at him, then shook her head. She threw her left hand up, then slapped her thigh. “Fine. You’re right! Will you HELP me, then?”
“I’d be glad to…” Mark turned his chair toward Stacey.
“Ugh…Thank y–”
“...if you ask nicely.” Mark stood and crossed his arms.
“Jeez..” Stacey folded her hands in front of her face and affected her voice. “PLEASE Mark, will you f-ing help me?”
“Was that so hard?”
Stacey rolled her eyes.
They walked into the bathroom together and Mark looked around at the painted cinder block walls and ecru partitions. “A lot less tagging in here than the boys’ bathroom.”
They entered the shower stalls. The water had gone down. “Of course. Now that you made me beg, I don’t need help after all.”
“Uh…you may not need help with the plunger, but,” Mark pointed at the drain, “you do have to clean that out.”
Peering more closely, Stacey noticed a clump of hair as thick as a rat’s tail trailing out from the drain screen. “THAT,” she pointed, “is NOT my problem!”
“Whose problem do you think it is? You offered to clean the bathroom this morning. I heard you.”
“That’s disgusting. From the beginning you said all we have to do is sprinkle the pink stuff everywhere and hose it out.”
“First of all, you should know better by now than to listen to any of the stupid shit I say. Second, this is a WOMEN’S RESTROOM! You’d better be cleaning it more than that or we are going to get shut down by the health department. Bob told everyone as much your first day, when you were all googly-eyed over Jessie.”
Stacey’s face flushed. “You’re such an asshole!” She stormed out of the bathroom.
Mark followed her. “Get over yourself, Stacey and do your damn job. You need to wipe down mirrors and toilet seats, refill toilet paper, empty those bins in the stalls with disgusting girl stuff inside. AND clean the hair out of that drain!”
“Fine.” She looked at her feet. “Will you at least show me how?”
“We need a screwdriver, more gloves, and possibly an exorcist,” he said.
It turned out the unused plastic utensils that had been piling up in the guard shack all summer came in handy. Once Mark pried the cover off of the drain, they each scraped and scooped out the muck. Stacey paused to look away when the smell and slime of the clog made her stomach turn. Mark gagged, covering his mouth with his elbow.
Thirty minutes later, the water flowed properly with all the shower faucets running.
After washing her hands, Stacey slumped onto the couch, grateful Chad and Tiffany had offered to take the first shifts in the towers.
Mark sat at the desk, accepting money from the swimmers as they entered. Over his shoulder, he said, “For you to be late, and the way you dragged your ass through here, you’re sure you don’t have Typhoid or something?”
“I’m fine,” Stacey said, crossing her arms and looking down at her red, shredded fingers. “Everyone can back off.” Her nails were bitten to their quicks. She pushed her left ring finger cuticle between her teeth and started to tug at it.
“You don’t seem fine.” He perched on the edge of the desk, his arms crossed. “You’re cannibalizing your hands and your clothes are filthy.”
Stacey pulled her finger from her mouth and tucked it in her armpit. She looked down at her Nirvana T-shirt. It had small holes in the neck and brownish-yellow stains in the pits. The buffalo check boxers were faded and more than three sizes too big.
“Like you’re one to talk,” she muttered.
“That’s different, and you know it. I’m always a slob. You never are.”
Stacey pushed herself to standing and pulled open Melissa’s locker to use her mirror. Her hair was greasy and her lashes still held clumps of mascara. Wetting her face that morning only made the black shadows around her swollen eyes more prominent.
“Maybe you have a point. But I’m kinda rocking the angry grunge look.”
“Nah. You look like an angsty runaway who needs a shower.”
Stacey pulled off her T-shirt and boxers, shoving them in her locker, then wrapped her towel around her waist, double rolling it so it would stay put. Grabbing a hair-tie and bottle of SPF 30 from the back of her locker, she combed her fingers through her hair to pull it into a ponytail. Rubbing sunscreen onto her face, Stacey took care to gently swipe a bit beneath her eyes, then used a tissue from the desk to wipe the smeared makeup away with the extra lotion.
She turned toward Mark. “Better?”
“Yeah. Now don’t fall asleep up in the chair.”
“You’re a hypocrite.”
“I know. But one of me is already one too many around this place.” Mark turned back to the desk and put his feet up.
Stacey headed out for her rotation in the deep-end tower.
As Tiffany climbed down, she told Stacey, “We’ve got a few overconfident swimmers today.”
Stacey nodded. “We always do.”
“We need to watch that one especially.” Tiffany pointed out a small, skinny boy, about five years old, in a too-large pair of royal blue swim trunks. “He can barely doggy-paddle.”
Tiffany moved over to the other tower to watch the shallow end and Chad went inside.
It was only 9:30, but after a night spent crying and too little sleep, then an hour scouring the dark, dingy bathroom, Stacey’s head was pounding. The harsh reflection off the water and bright concrete stung Stacey’s eyes, even through her sunglasses. The kids’ laughter and splashing pierced her eardrums. Her stomach rumbled.
Despite everything, Stacey’s internal debates about Jessie still fought for her attention.
Maybe he’ll realize he was a jerk and call today.
You’re a dumbass if you think he ever really cared about you.
She pulled at a piece of skin on her thumb, slowly tearing it away until it bled.
When Stacey looked up, the little boy Tiffany pointed out was bouncing his way around the shallow end of the pool. She sucked on her injured finger, inspecting it again.
If he comes to see me today, I’ll know I overreacted.
She glanced toward the deep end. The sunlight glared off the surface of the water as a little girl in a Minnie Mouse swimsuit walked to the end of the board and jumped off. She swam to the edge. In line next to go off the board were two older boys.
Focusing back on her hands, Stacey picked at another loose cuticle, this time on her right pointer finger.
She heard the thump of the board followed by a splash. Out of the corner of her eye she saw two arms slapping and two feet splashing toward the ladder.
Stacey examined her left hand more closely.
There were splash sounds around the pool, some loud, others not so much, all as familiar to Stacey as her own breath. But when a quieter sound—the sound of a small body hitting water, a figure so petite it didn’t bounce the board at all—made its miniscule splash in the deep end, Stacey’s ears perked up. The hairs on the back of her neck raised.
She looked at the deep end again. The bright sunlight danced on the surface as a single ripple moved across the top of the water.
Stacey stood and pulled her sunglasses up to try to see better. The reflection of the light was so bright she had to squint. Beneath the ripple, near the bottom, was someone so small she thought maybe she was only looking at the drain itself.
The girl in the Minnie Mouse suit stood on the side of the pool looking down, both hands over her mouth.
Reaching for her whistle, she realized she was so distracted she never put it on that morning. It was buried in her locker. “Tiff!” she shouted at Tiffany’s tower.
Tiffany made eye-contact, then jumped to her feet.
Scanning the water again, she realized the body was not coming back up. Stacey tugged on her towel. Double rolled, it barely loosened. She ripped it away harder. The towel fell into a heap on the deck.
Tiffany blew her whistle.
Stacey jumped feet first from her tower, dropping into the deep end two feet from the small child.
Her left arm encircled his tiny chest. She pushed her feet hard against the bottom of the pool.
The two reached the top within a few seconds. Both gasped for air. With the boy tight to her side, Stacey paddled with one arm and scissor-kicked her legs to the ladder.
The small girl stood by the ladder, her face pale.
The boy slowly pulled himself up the rungs. Stacey lifted his waist from behind.
“Braydon, are you okay?” the girl asked, eyes wide with fright as she put her arm around him.
The boy sputtered water and nodded, his lips purple.
“What were you thinking?” Stacey spat as she climbed from the pool. “Where are your parents?”
“I’m sorry! Please don’t call my parents!” The sister’s voice rose several octaves. “It’s my fault. I told him the diving board was fun. Our parents aren’t here. We live down the street.”
The crying girl trying to comfort her little brother was no more than seven. She didn’t know better, and neither did he. Stacey should have been watching, made sure he didn’t go off the diving board in the first place. Tiffany had warned her about the boy.
If he’d drowned, it would have been my fault.
Stacey dropped to her knees. “Listen…don’t cry, okay?” She cleared her throat, trying to halt the quiver in her own voice, and rested a hand on each of the kids’ shoulders. “I’m sorry I got so upset. You’re justnot ready for the diving board. You’ve got to be able to get yourself out.”
They both nodded sheepishly. “Are we in trouble?” the little girl asked. “Do we have to go home?”
“No,” Stacey said. “But stay over on that end, okay?”
The girl held her brother’s hand and led him to the shallow end of the pool. They sat on the side and dangled their feet in the water.
Stacey returned to her chair, hands shaking. She left her towel in the puddle where it landed beneath the tower. Looking around the pool, she counted six adults. There were dozens of kids running, splashing, and jumping in the water.
Stacey’s ponytail dripped. Water pooled in her seat. She perched on the edge of the chair, terrified not to give her full attention to the water. Ready to jump again if needed. Her suit clung to her. Despite the heat, her thighs were covered in goosebumps.
Tiffany sat back in her own seat, and lifted her megaphone. “Good save.”
Stacey tried to smile, but shook her head instead. She sat on her hands and watched the swimmers.
At noon, when morning swim ended, Chad told Stacey to go in and get out of the sun. The water was cleared and no lap swimmers had shown up yet. He offered to watch as the final morning swimmers filed off the deck. She only had one more hour. After lap swim, Stacey was done for the day. It couldn’t come soon enough.
Inside the guard shack, Stacey smelled French fries. She was surprised to find a Carl’s Jr. bag inside her locker. She hadn’t eaten since dinner, and the salty, greasy smell made her salivate. “Where’d this come from?”
Mark smiled at her. “I had Tiffany go on a quick lunch run. Your first rescue warrants a Famous Star, don’t you think?”
“I did everything wrong. I wasn’t wearing my whistle. I wasn’t paying enough attention. I should have stopped him before he even got on the diving board. I didn’t use the Shepherd’s Crook like you told me to, or brace his neck or anything.”
“It’s fifteen feet deep; you knew he didn’t have a head or neck injury. And he’s fine because you got him out quickly.” Mark shrugged. “You know what to do next time, right?”
“How did I not realize we’re the cheapest babysitting in town?”
“It gets worse as summer wears on. People get sick of their kids. They need a break and drop them off.”
Stacey fell onto the couch, pulled three fries from the bag, and shoved them in her mouth. She unwrapped the hamburger. “Where is Tiffany?” she asked, then took a huge bite.
“She’s off this afternoon,” Mark said with his mouth full. He swigged from his soda. “She brought the food back, then I told her she could head home.”
Holding the bite in the side of her cheek, Stacey asked, “Who else is working lap swi–”
Melissa pulled open the lobby door.
Stacey finished chewing and swallowed her bite, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before Melissa entered the guard shack carrying a Del Taco bag.
“Hey,” Melissa said to Mark as she closed the door behind her.
Mark nodded, his mouth full.
Melissa dropped her keys in her locker. “Oh! Hi, Stacey,” she purred.
Stacey didn’t trust Melissa’s enthusiastic greeting. “Hey.” She looked at the clock. 12:02. Only fifty-eight minutes. I can do this.
Melissa sat on the other end of the couch, turned toward Stacey, her legs crisscrossed beneath her. “How’s it goin’?”
Stacey felt like she was under a microscope. “Fine.” She used her tongue to clean her teeth while wrapping up the rest of her burger. I can play this game. “How are you?” She set the burger in her bag by her feet, grabbing a few fries.
“What’s up with you? Did you do anything fun after work yesterday?” Melissa asked, pulling a small burrito from her own bag and folding the wrapping down to expose the top half.
Mark’s chair squeaked as he turned. He twisted the straw in the giant soda in his hand, as if tuning into a soap opera.
“Not really.” Stacey’s eyebrow twitched. She bit the top of the fries off, watching Melissa out of the corner of her eye.
Melissa picked at her burrito. “Seemed like you and Jessie were pretty friendly at the movies the other night.”
“I guess…”
“Did you hook up with him?” Melissa snapped.
“Seriously?” Stacey turned her shoulders to face Melissa. “You were here yesterday. He barely said five words to me the whole day.”
“Last night Jessie said he was busy.” Melissa narrowed her eyes. “I think he was with you.”
“Wow.” Stacey lifted her eyebrows high. “I thought you and Jessie stopped talking to each other a couple weeks ago.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is your point?”
Melissa shook her head and turned away. She put her feet on the ground and bit into her burrito.
Stacey picked up her bag and started gnawing on another handful of fries.
Chad pulled open the door from the pool deck. “Any lap swimmers yet?” he asked Mark before stepping inside.
Mark shook his head quickly, attention focused on the mounting cat fight.
Chad closed the door behind him and pulled off his sunglasses. He looked at the girls, then back at Mark. “What’s going on?”
Both Stacey and Melissa shot warning looks at Chad.
He put up his palms. “Sorry I asked.” He backed up, and was opening his locker when the lobby door flew open, followed by a loud squeal.
Desiree ran to pull open the office door. Chad bent his knees and braced himself to catch her. She jumped onto Chad, wrapping her golden legs around his waist. Their mouths opened as if on hinges before they kissed. This public display of affection was over the top, even for them.
Seemingly uninterested in being a spectator, Mark backed his chair up and turned away. He covered his face with his hat as if taking a nap.
Melissa’s irritated pout became more pronounced. She dropped her burrito in her bag, then crossed her arms while staring the pair down.
The clock clicked to 12:08. Longest shift ever.
“I missed you so much, baby!” Desiree said between slobbery kisses. “I wish my parents would’ve let you come with us to the river.”
“Me too.” Chad gripped under her butt. “Worst Fourth of July ever.”
Desiree was at the movies Wednesday night. At most she was gone–what--two days? Seriously?
The room felt claustrophobic and a new wave of exhaustion hit Stacey. She grabbed her Carl’s Jr. sack and stood.
“Thanks for lunch, Mark. Seems like your afternoon crew is here. Can I head out?”
Mark gave a thumbs up without uncovering his head or turning around. Stacey reached into her locker to grab her keys, then slid along the wall to ease past the couple.
Before leaving, she glanced at the schedule posted on the wall. Jessie, Melissa, and Desiree were supposed to work night swim. Awesome. Melissa gets Jessie all to herself tonight.
After she got home, Stacey checked the machine. No messages. She fell into her bed.
It was late afternoon when she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
After a long, hot shower, she found a note on the kitchen counter that said her mom was going to Aunt Susie’s. “Your room and bathroom are disgusting, and your car is covered in dust. You need to clean them this weekend.” In the bottom corner, a sad face was drawn with an arrow pointed to the ripped Northern Lights painting, still sitting where Stacey left it that morning. Stacey dropped both halves along with the note in the trash.
She made a bag of microwave popcorn and put an old recorded tape of The Princess Bride in the VCR. She sat on the corduroy couch braiding her damp hair, Murphy’s head in her lap. Stacey squinted when Cary Elwes appeared onscreen; he looked a lot like Jessie. She’d fantasized herself as Buttercup with her own farm boy romance since she first saw the movie in sixth grade.
“Hopefully Jessie is in his Dread Pirate Roberts phase, Murph.” She offered Murphy a few pieces of popcorn. “What are the chances it’ll turn out this was all an act, and Jessie will whisk me away into the sunset?”
Murphy licked the salt off her palm, then sat up, expecting more.
“Okay, okay…” She gave her dog the last handful, then set the bowl in the middle of the coffee table.
As the light outside faded, Stacey considered calling Gabe. He definitely hates me by now. He just wanted to go to Tower Records. To see Cable Guy. But she blew him off. He’s better off without me .
“Good thing I have you to hang out with on a Saturday night.” She rubbed Murphy’s slobber off on the couch cushion.
When the movie ended, Stacey turned off the TV and stared at the blank screen. She still hadn’t heard from Jessie. She thought back over her conversation with Melissa. Jessie was working with Melissa at the pool until nine.
“Maybe I shouldn’t wait for him to call me,” she told Murphy.
In a sleeveless flannel and cutoffs, her braid hanging over her shoulder, Stacey pulled into a dark corner of the parking lot of The Plunge at 8:55.
She sat in her car with the lights off, watching through the chain link fence. The pool lights were still on, and the cover hadn’t been pulled over the water yet. Desiree, Chad, Tiffany, and Mark were all in their swimsuits at the deep end. Mark flipped off the diving board. As tall a guy as he was, big gut and all, Stacey was impressed by how well he landed it.
Melissa’s small red Mercedes convertible was still in the lot, but she and Jessie weren’t on the deck.
When it was clear no one else was coming out of the lobby door, Stacey approached the lobby entrance, staying hidden in the shadows.
The lights in the guard shack and lobby were off. Metallica was blaring on the outside speakers loud enough to cover the squeak of the hinge as she pulled open the door. Stacey tiptoed across the lobby. She was about to pull open the door to the office when she heard voices in the girls’ restroom.
No light showed under the door. Stacey inched up to it, listening. The voices echoed, but were muffled by the music. They were definitely male and female, and Stacey recognized the distinct shrillness of the voice that she’d grown to loathe. Melissa. Jessie had to be with her. But Stacey couldn’t make out what they were saying. She eased the door open, careful not to let it make a sound, and stood behind the partition.
“What’s going on with you and her?” Melissa asked.
“Nothing,” Jessie replied.
“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” she hissed. “Are you with her now?”
“No. Why would I be with her? I told you: I don’t want a girlfriend.”
Confident they had no idea anyone else had entered, Stacey peeked around the privacy wall. Beneath a small frosted window in the corner of the cavernous shower stall, a street lamp outside cast an orange glow over them. Jessie was leaning casually against the wall of mint-colored subway tiles, shirtless in his red boardshorts, and Melissa was facing him, her back to Stacey, in a pair of white cotton shorts and her red two piece.
“You were with Stacey last night, weren’t you?” she asked.
Jessie shrugged.
Melissa hesitated. “What did you…do?”
“What difference does it make?”
“It matters to me,” Melissa sniffed.
“Why?” He leaned forward, and put his hand on Melissa’s waist. “You’re not mad anymore?” He pulled her body to him. “Do you want to pick up where we left off?”
Melissa locked eyes with him. Stacey swallowed hard. She could feel again what it was like to be wanted by Jessie. To want to be wanted by him.
Melissa tilted her chin and let him kiss her. His right hand slid down her waist and reached under the bottom edge of her shorts. His other hand slid up her ribs to her breast.
Stacey’s heart was pounding. Her eyes welled.
Jessie turned Melissa to lean her up against the wall. Stacey turned away. The noises they were making were all too familiar. She didn’t want to see what was coming next.
Stacey snuck back out the door. In the Silver Bullet, she kept her headlights off, hoping the rest of the crew hadn’t noticed her pulling out of the parking lot.
A block away, she pulled into a 7-11 that was notorious for not checking IDs. She bought a large Mr. Pibb, a lighter, and a pack of Marlboro Reds. She’d snuck one of her dad’s cigarettes the summer before with Gabe, and could still remember the foggy feeling she got in her head. Maybe that fog would replace the pain in her chest and blur away the image of Jessie with Melissa. Back in her car, she put in her Eagles Unplugged album and lit a cigarette before pulling out of the parking lot.
For the next hour and a half, she drove with the windows down, lighting one cigarette after another. As “The Girl from Yesterday” evolved into “Life in the Fast Lane” on the stereo, Stacey reminded herself that in a year she’d be leaving for college. Mesa Valley would be a distant memory.
Stacey threw her Heart Shaped World CD out the window and into a ditch alongside the road. She was finished fantasizing about love. And she was done with Jessie Thomas.