Part 9 (2/2)
me that Shrimp and I were: just friends, just friends, just friends. Didn't that make side orders admissible in the court of platonic aggravation? Yet right as Alexei's lips were about to touch mine, we both pulled back at the same exact second. Alexei said, ”You have Doritos breath.” I responded, ”You have Listerine Strip breath, which is worse.” Alexei looked as relieved as I felt that our strange little moment had not materialized into an actual kiss.
Maybe that Noam Chomsky guy would say I experienced a moment of clarity, because what I realized was this: not that Alexei and I weren't into each other that way, but that maybe I am capable of having a platonic friend who's a guy. Just not Shrimp.
I said to Alexei, ”So if you'll turn that d.a.m.n Noam Chomsky video off and put the music back on--I'll trade you Sinatra for cla.s.sic Aerosmith--I might listen if you want to tell me what's so great about going off to some dumb college, and, like, what you plan on doing with your life once you're finished there.”
Alexei poured us fresh gla.s.ses of sparkling cider and said, ”Make yourself comfortable, Princess. It's gonna be a long night.”
”Good, because since you've got me trapped, you might as well tell me all about what happened with Kari, too.”
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Chapter 24
With Josh's getting sick and getting left behind in San Francisco, the holiday season, and Sid and Nancy taking off with Ash for Minnesota to see dying Granny A, in all that chaos we forgot a very important date that falls the week between Christmas and New Year's: Josh's birthday. The whole situation, in my opinion, was very sick and getting left behind in San Francisco, the holiday season, and Sid and Nancy taking off with Ash for Minnesota to see dying Granny A, in all that chaos we forgot a very important date that falls the week between Christmas and New Year's: Josh's birthday. The whole situation, in my opinion, was very Home Alone Home Alone meets meets Sixteen Candles, Sixteen Candles, and I was and I was Clueless Clueless on how to solve it. Josh's friends were all gone on Christmas vacation with their families, so it's not like I could invite them over for an impromptu party, and I was not about to pull a Nancy and take him to tourist trap Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. at Pier 39 for a birthday celebration. There was nothing left to do in this crisis except turn to the one person who could figure it out for me: Sugar Pie. And man, did she come through big time. on how to solve it. Josh's friends were all gone on Christmas vacation with their families, so it's not like I could invite them over for an impromptu party, and I was not about to pull a Nancy and take him to tourist trap Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. at Pier 39 for a birthday celebration. There was nothing left to do in this crisis except turn to the one person who could figure it out for me: Sugar Pie. And man, did she come through big time.
If you need to stock a last-minute party with guests who can't leave The City for the holidays, and who might love Harry Potter more than Josh, what better venue than a nursing home--excuse me, a.s.sisted living facility? I love old people. Who else would have the time and heart to decorate their party room for an HP-themed party, with an endless supply of fruit punch, Jell-O, and Boston Baked Beans subbing for Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, on just a few hours' notice?
During the car ride over, Josh couldn't figure out why I 171.
was wearing a McGonagall black tower hat, or why Alexei had bulked up his clothing so he'd look even closer to Hagrid size, until we led him into the party room, where an a.s.sortment of old-timers were milling around with Sugar Pie, Shrimp, and Helen and Autumn.
Not having the best collective vision, the party group didn't notice the guest of honor's arrival until about a minute after he'd knocked over a bowl of M&Ms in his sprint to retrieve the hastily created Nimbus2000 broomstick in the corner, but the smile on Josh's face when the group finally got around to saying ”SURPRISE” in unison was big. His would not be a party with a pinata, and no one in that crowd was up for a game of Twister, but a party full of HP peeps, along with many treats and grown-up dancing to a collection of popular tunes (if you're 70-plus), could more than subst.i.tute.
Hmm, future career idea to DO something: create party-planning business organizing last-minute celebrations for forgotten birthdays.
Helen, who made for an interesting almost-bald-headed Hermione with square black geek gla.s.sless gla.s.s frames on her eyes, grabbed Josh's hand for the first dance under the paper lantern hanging from the ceiling. I doubt Josh knew who Benny Goodman was, but he had no trouble pulling off a postmodern robot dance with Helen to the WWII swing beat. Alexei took Cho Chang--that is, Autumn--off for a dance, while the tiniest Dumbledore ever, Shrimp, took my hand. I've always suspected there is some magic brew between Dumbledore and McGonagall, and our slow dance to the fast number, holding each other tight, my head on his shoulder, soulful silence between us, only proved that.
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Shrimp and I danced through several songs, oblivious to the dance partner changes happening around us, until You-Know-Who--Sugar Pie--cut into our dance. Shrimp took her hand, thinking she was exchanging Alexei for him as her dance partner, but she shot him her best Voldemort death glance and took my hand instead. The two dudes left partnerless by Sugar Pie's cut-in, Shrimp and Alexei, exchanged awkward looks but did not move forward to dance with each other. They gave each other the soul brother handshake followed by the obligatory shoulder b.u.t.t, then they both hot trotted their separate ways.
Sugar Pie said, ”That was an awful slow, tight dance you and Shrimp just had to 'Mack the Knife.' Since you didn't notice, I'll inform you for future dances: It's an uptempo number. So is it safe to say you two are back together?”
”We're not there yet, my friend, not quite there.”
”When do you think you will be?”
”Did you bring your tarot cards down for the party? Cuz I would like to figure out the same thing. It's just so... nice... nice... between us, so it's like neither of us wants to ruin that. We are disgraces to our teenage libidos. I guess we are supposed to have some Official Talk if we ever decide to officially get back together, but we've both either been too busy or we're just dodging the topic entirely. Sugar Pie, is true love a fallacy?” between us, so it's like neither of us wants to ruin that. We are disgraces to our teenage libidos. I guess we are supposed to have some Official Talk if we ever decide to officially get back together, but we've both either been too busy or we're just dodging the topic entirely. Sugar Pie, is true love a fallacy?”
The song ended and Sugar Pie and I took seats next to the Hogwarts-decorated dining hall table heaped with cake and candy and--someone was really forward-thinking-- bottles of Turns. Sugar Pie took a sip from her Dixie cup of grape Kool-Aid and answered my question. ”Maybe you ought to stop worrying so much about some idea called true 173.
love, and think harder about the simple, plain reality of what love you have in you to give, and receive in turn. Love that's about the person--the real person, that lost soul boy whose future plans are vaguer than yours, the one too scared to admit how much he needs you because maybe he's afraid of losing you again--and not about some romanticized notion of who you thought that person was. Think about whether you have gotten to know this person well enough this time around to have earned the right to call it love.”
”Do you love Fernando?”
”Yes, I think so.”
”Is it true love?”
”It's better--it's real, which makes it harder, too, sometimes. Fights and handicaps and him taking off to Nicaragua for Christmas and not inviting this old lady along and all.”
Ouch. I asked her, 'Are you mad?” Sugar Pie nodded. 'Are you going to break up with him?” She shook her head no. I wanted to know, ”You're not dying, right? Because you said maybe you weren't planning on living here forever.”
Sugar Pie laughed. ”Not that my doctor has told me, baby. I may be getting on in years, but this lady isn't planning on going anywhere. Not just yet.”
Josh arrived with a THUD on my lap, and banged his head against my chest. The sugar, dancing, and an engaged audience of people who knew the Hogwarts universe better than he had temporarily spent him. He whispered in my ear, ”Your other family isn't taking you away, are they?” I looked down at his worried face and suspected this was the question he'd wanted to ask me since I got back from New York 174.
months ago, but maybe it was his special day and Sid and Nancy being gone that had allowed him to finally voice it.
I flicked his head, our usual custom. ”No, silly,” I told him.
For a love child who spent the better part of her life dreaming about her other family, I've barely given them a second thought since returning to San Francisco, except for Danny, of course, who is going to be the cause of my future carpal tunnel syndrome from all the cell phone text messaging I do with him to keep in touch. I did get a Christmas present from bio-dad Frank: a blue Tiffany box containing a chain necklace with a diamond heart-shaped pendant attached, like I am a girl who wears horridly precious trinkets like that. The card inside read, for a sweet sixteen of a girl . Trust me, there is nothing about me that Frank finds sweet. I think the word he used to describe me was s.p.u.n.ky. s.p.u.n.ky. (Insert puking sound here.) Last year I might have been thrilled to get such a present from him, even such a sucky one, but this year--and by the way, Frank-dude, I'm seventeen, not sixteen--the necklace only confirmed how little he knew me. I set the Tiffany box aside to donate to charity. (Insert puking sound here.) Last year I might have been thrilled to get such a present from him, even such a sucky one, but this year--and by the way, Frank-dude, I'm seventeen, not sixteen--the necklace only confirmed how little he knew me. I set the Tiffany box aside to donate to charity.
Autumn and Shrimp approached our seats, carrying the birthday cake I'd made Josh, as everyone in the room sang ”Happy Birthday.” If anyone had told me last summer that my lifetime would witness an Autumn-Shrimp b-day duo celebrating my brother, at my request, I would have either collapsed in hysterics on the spot or possibly gone postal. To quote a great lady, Sugar Pie: ”Life is funny, baby, and that's no joke.”
After Josh had cut the cake, Autumn came over to sit with me while Helen snapped photos of the party and got 175.
the digits for at least three senior gentlemen, her latest flirt pals. She's promised me she's past Aryan, over it, done, finito, done, finito, but natural Helen flirting, no matter the age of her conquest, could never be off-limits. Autumn said, ”This cake is delicious. You made this whole thing by yourself?” but natural Helen flirting, no matter the age of her conquest, could never be off-limits. Autumn said, ”This cake is delicious. You made this whole thing by yourself?”
”Guess so,” I said. ”Not a big deal.”
”I think a banana cake with chocolate ganache filling and the best b.u.t.tercream frosting I've ever had in my life is a big deal. Thank your brother in New York for pa.s.sing on the recipe, from my taste buds. So in all those colleges Alexei told me he's been going through with you, did you find any with a cake-baking major?”
All the college brochures and discussions have only confirmed for me what I already knew.- College is not a place for me. I hate hate school, simple as that. I tolerate it because I have to, but when I'm there all I think about is when the school day will end, the weekend come, vacation start, my life begin again. I would rather study European history by going to Europe, or Far Eastern religions by traveling to China and India. I'd prefer to learn the great works of literature by watching Shakespeare in the park, and understand geometry and algebra by jumping off a triangular precipice and determining the distance to the bottom by whether the resulting injury requires an Ace bandage or a trip to the hospital for X rays. Making it through my senior year of high school--the actual school part, not the hanging with friends part--feels like I am a runner standing at my mark for the big race, waiting for the starting gun to signal graduation so I can sprint off to my future and some place that is not not not school. school, simple as that. I tolerate it because I have to, but when I'm there all I think about is when the school day will end, the weekend come, vacation start, my life begin again. I would rather study European history by going to Europe, or Far Eastern religions by traveling to China and India. I'd prefer to learn the great works of literature by watching Shakespeare in the park, and understand geometry and algebra by jumping off a triangular precipice and determining the distance to the bottom by whether the resulting injury requires an Ace bandage or a trip to the hospital for X rays. Making it through my senior year of high school--the actual school part, not the hanging with friends part--feels like I am a runner standing at my mark for the big race, waiting for the starting gun to signal graduation so I can sprint off to my future and some place that is not not not school.
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”Nan,” I said. ”What about you? Did you finish your apps over the break?”
Autumn said, ”Yeah. And I might even have snuck in a few dark-horse contenders.”
”Where?”
Autumn's index finger and thumb did the zip lip gesture around her mouth. ”I'm not jinxing it.”
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