Words I Might Have Ate

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I woke up the next day at eleven o’clock, time enough to get a bit of reading done before work at three that afternoon. As always when under a deadline, I concentrated spectacularly and managed to get the rest of chapter two completely read by the time the clock on my night table read one thirty.

It was then that I roused myself from my bed and began to get ready for work. It took me only a few moments and I was locking my door at two ten and making my way outside towards the bus stop at the end of the block. The day was beautiful, one of those days where I wanted nothing more than to lay out in the yard and smoke until I couldn’t feel my own body anymore. But unfortunately work was my priority today and it was with a sinking heart that I boarded the public transit and deposited my fare into the token box.

I always take the seat in the back of the bus, a habit that Mike and I had started back in elementary school. The back has always been a bit of a comfort zone for me. I could people watch without drawing too much attention to myself on the long, low bench. The forty minute bus ride today, however, was spent with my book lying in my lap instead of people watching. The busy environment proved to be a hazard to my reading. By the time the bus rolled up to Martin’s Pub, I was only five and a half pages into Chapter Three.

My favorite part about working in the bar was that if we weren’t busy, which we infrequently were in the middle of the week, we were allowed to have a seat and relax until our next customer walked through the doors. I was banking on this delightful aspect as I signed in on my timecard and tied my black apron around my waist. However, due to some cosmic prankster, a bachelor party took up residence at the bar at precisely four and kept me on my feet for the next four hours of my shift.

I spent the majority of the time mixing simple shots for the men, mopping up a few spills and constantly checking to be sure that their peanut and pretzel bowls were plenty stocked. Speaking from personal experience, it was not fun at all to drink on an empty stomach. It makes the morning hangovers just that much more intense.

By the time eight rolled around, my feet were aching and my book was still tucked carefully into the pocket of my jacket. Rose had dismissed me with a careless wave and after wiping down the counter one last time, I had signed myself out and gathered my things together for the trek to the bus stop.

It was a gorgeous evening, all open skies and glittering stars—a rare sight in the city. With my hands in my pockets and a cigarette dangling from my lips, I had spent the walk humming a nameless tune that had come to mind while cleaning up my third vodka mess of the evening. My mind was somewhere else completely as I waited for my bus. It was only as I eased myself onto the sticky vinyl on the back bench once again that I realized I still had a few more pages left in the chapter.

The next thirty minutes fly by as I sit on the moving bus with my nose in the book. I can see my stop by the time I read the last sentence in Chapter Three and it was with a relieved sigh that I pocket the novel and once again rise to my tired feet.

My mind spins as I plant my feet firmly on the sidewalk and begin the short walk to David’s house where I know a warm dinner is waiting for me. My stomach growls loudly at the thought of food and I unconsciously hasten my pace.

David would probably ask me what I thought of the book so far, if I had any questions and so on and so forth. I didn’t, not so far anyway. I was only 26 pages into the literature and I was still trying to keep everything that Holden was throwing at me straight. So far he had managed to get expelled from school, yelled at the boy in the neighboring room for clipping his nails and called nearly every other character a phony. It didn’t sound like a lot but my head was reeling with all of the new information.

Lizzie was in the front yard, her long brown hair pulled up into a pair of lopsided pigtails, with a pink bottle of bubbles in one hand and a yellow wand in the other. Her eyes light up when she recognizes me and she skips happily down the front walk and comes to a stop in front of the gate.

“Hey Lizzie,” I smile down at her as I unlatch the gate and step into the yard.

Lizzie smiles a toothy grin and waves her hand, splashing bubbles everywhere. “Oops,” She giggles, sticking the wand back into the bottle and wiping her grimy hands on her jeans. “Momma isn’t here tonight.”

“Where is she?” I ask as we walk up the front steps.

Lizzie opens the door and shrugs her thin shoulders once before flouncing down the hallway. I let the door slam behind me before walking after her, my hands tucked into my pockets again. I enter the kitchen and immediately catch sight of David sitting at the counter.

“Hey,” He greets me with a smile before getting up and walking to the oven. “Ready to eat?”

“Sure,” I reply, wriggling out of my jacket and dropping it on the back of a chair. “What’s on the menu?”

“Heather’s out to dinner with the girls, so I’m in charge of supper tonight,” David announces as he pulls three plates from the cupboard and hands them to me.

I set them on the table just as Lizzie comes into the room, her face and hands a tingly pink from her pre-dinner washing. I raise an eyebrow at David’s words. “So that means…?”

He opens the oven door and pulls out a white dish that’s covered tightly in aluminum foil. “Leftover lasagna. I wasn’t sure how long to keep it in the oven,” He begins, cautiously peeking beneath the silver wrapping, wisps of steam drifting away. “I hope it’s warm enough, I followed Heather’s exact instructions but--.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” I wave it away as I take a seat next to my niece and bemusedly watch her struggle to spread her napkin across her lap.

David walks to the fridge and pulls out two honey-colored bottles, holding them out to me. “These good?”

“Perfect,” I answer, accepting the beer and cracking it open expertly. “So what’s brought the alcohol out?”

“Well Heather’s out and we’re here, it’s a bit of a boy’s night in—“ David begins but he’s cut off by his daughter.

“Excuse me,” She looks severely offended, her entire pose reeking of attitude. I have to stifle my laughter with my hand as David looks flabbergasted. “What am I then?”

He flounders for a moment, looking completely helpless. “Well honey, it’s just you and—I didn’t mean anything and—“

“You’re one of the boys tonight,” I interrupt, raising my cold drink. “So eat too much and burp as loud as you want because when your mom gets back, you’ll go back to being a lady again.”

Lizzie looks thrilled at the prospect of being able to belch without repercussions and she immediately hands her plate over to her father to be filled. Her excited babble fills the room for a few moments until she’s silenced by a heaping helping of food.

David raises an eyebrow at how I handled the situation and if he disapproved at all, he made no mention of it as we all dug into our dinner. The entire room is silent, save the scrapping of our forks against the china and Dave quietly reminding his daughter not to chew with her mouth open.

Finally he excuses his daughter and she flits from the room after placing her plate by the sink. There is the distant sound of the television turning on before David stands up from the table, his plate in hand and looks down at me.

“Are you finished?” He asks, reaching out his hand for my plate.

I nod my head and hand him the dish before standing up and gathering the serving dish and following him to the sink. “When is Heather coming home?”

“She said to look out for her at about ten or ten thirty,” David replies, turning on the sink and rinsing the three plates quickly. “But knowing her, she’ll start to catch up with her friends and it’ll be more like eleven thirty.”

“So she’s not seen them in a while,” I ask out of mere politeness more than actual interest, watching as he begins to load up the dishwasher.

David shrugs, placing the utensils in the basket before closing the dishwasher and wiping his hands clean on a dish towel. “It’s a once a month thing; that’s about all I know. Once a month it’s just me and Lizzie and that’s fine with me.”

I nod my head and wander slowly back to the table, my beer occupying my attention for the time being. David leaves the room and I’m left alone with my thoughts for the first time all day. I reach into the pocket of the jacket I slung over the back of my chair and retrieve the worn copy of my novel before placing it squarely on the table in front of me.

It seems a bit pretentious, just staring up at me, like the book knows I’ve not fulfilled my end of the bargain by not keeping up with my chapters. But that’s silly because books can’t have feelings. I’m going to go insane and this book is only making that possibility a fast reality.

“The book didn’t do anything to you, you know.”

I turn upon hearing the voice in time to see David slide into the seat opposite mine with his binder on the table. “What?”

“The way you were glaring at it,” David gestures with his hand as he speaks, his eyes twinkling merrily. “It was like you were angry with the book or something.”

“Oh,” I laugh awkwardly, rubbing at the back of my neck sheepishly.

David smiles and leans back in his chair, watching me closely. “Is there something you don’t understand about the novel?”

“No,” I shake my head immediately. “I understand it so far. It’s interesting,” I falter for a suitable way to describe the book but David beats me to it with a bit of a snort.

“Please Billie, the book is slow in the beginning. Anyone can tell you that. Now tell me what you really think about it,” He demands mock-sternly.

I flush a bit at his calling out and stare determinedly down at the wood grain of the kitchen table. “I can’t get into Holden, that’s it.”

“What do you mean?” He asks curiously, folding his hands in front of him, looking very much like School David again.

I bite down on my lower lip and shrug a bit, still refusing to meet my brother’s gaze. “He just—he makes me angry. He sits there and bitches about his life and everyone in it. He calls everyone a phony, like he’s fucking God or something and he doesn’t do a damn thing to change his situation.”

“Billie,” David laughs, shaking his head a bit. “You’re realizing something very important to Holden’s character. He’s an unreliable narrator, his story changes constantly and he provides insufficient proof to back his statements. The author is trying to get a response from you about Holden, this was his exact intention.”

“Did he have to make him such a whiny dick?” I grumble under my breath and roll my eyes a bit to show my irritation. “How am I supposed to like him if he’s everything I hate in modern day society?”

David prods the book with his index finger as if to reiterate his point. “You’ll understand in a few chapters, trust me.” He pulls open his binder and scans his notes quickly, rubbing at his bearded chin thoughtfully. “So I’m thinking your English exam will take place in a week and—“

I make a noise in the back of my throat at his words, staring intently down at the book so as to avoid his curious gaze.

“Is something the matter?” He inquires pleasantly, placing the binder back down at the table so he can regard me properly.

I shrug a bit and toy with the worn spine of the book absentmindedly. “I’m going to need a little more time than week to finish up the reading, that’s all.”

“How much is a little bit of time?”

“Oh you know,” I wave my hand vaguely. “Just a little bit of extra time to make sure I really understand the novel and what it has to offer—“

“Billie, how long?” David asks again, a no-nonsense steely glint seeping into his tone of voice as he studies me over the table.

I pinch at the skin on the back of my neck and slowly, shyly, meet his eyes. “A few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” David looks both surprised and incredulous, his entire body locking up. “Billie, a few weeks—how far are you into the book?”

“Chapter four,” I answer honestly, feeling a bit better now that my lack of reading was out in the open. “But I’m reading every spare chance I have, I promise.” Underneath the table, I cross my fingers and hope to Christ that Dave can’t tell when I’m lying. “It’s just been a busy couple of weeks with the band and work. Dave, I promise I’ll read the book, just give me a little bit more time. That’s all I need.”

“A few weeks will put you so far behind,” David announces, studying his schedule intently. “You cannot afford a few extra weeks, Billie.”

“Dave, it’s only June. I can still get all four of my tests completed before school rolls around again in August,” I protest weakly, sounding whiny and irritating even to my own ears.

David rubs heavily at his chin as he scans his notes once again. “I can give you a few more weeks to read the book on two conditions.”

“Done,” I answer immediately, thankful for the opportunity to redeem myself. “Whatever you want.”

David leans back into his chair and regards me carefully, his eyes narrowed. “One: you promise me that you will read the novel and not ignore it until the last moment, which I suspect you’ve done up until now.”

I ignore the faint look of guilt that flits across my face before nodding my head firmly. “Okay.”

“And two,” David pats his binder a few times, as if I could miss the massive contraption. “We move on to another subject so we’re not behind.”

I hesitate in agreeing to this last one. If I could barely get my reading done now what with working forty, fifty hour weeks and Green Day landing a steady, paying venue, who’s to say that I’d be able to take on an additional load of school work? But my mind is made up when I see the look in my brother’s eyes and I’m determined that I’ll do everything in my power to prove his suspicions wrong. “Alright.”

David nods his head once before looking down at the syllabus and clearing his throat importantly. “So pick your poison. You know what your remaining choices are.”

I take a moment to run over my options in my head. Math was going to be a bitch and a half, so it’d be best to leave it until later while government would probably be one of my best, if not the best, subject so it could be a reward for me. Which only left biology for me to take on next. “I suppose biology.”

David pulls out a rather thick packet from one of the binder’s pockets and hands it to me with a muted grin, like he’s trying not to laugh at the expression of astonishment that’s sprung across my face at the sight of the thick packet I’ve just been handed. “This is your final exam.”

“What?” I blink owlishly, convinced that I hadn’t heard him correctly. “David, I’m not an expert on school, but I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to give me the test after I’ve studied the material—“

“This is the same way that the biology final at Pinole is done,” David interrupts me impatiently. “The exam is handed out a few days ahead of time and the students fill out the packet before turning it into the teacher. Think of it as an open book test, if you will. It’s an easy A, if you actually take the time to do the work.”

I can’t suppress the giddy feelings of excitement that course through me at the thought of passing biology with flying colors. It’s right then and there that I decide to get every single problem in the packet right so I could redeem myself for the lack of reading of my part.

“I think I can do it,” I say lightly, watching as David places the packet back in his binder.

David nods, closing the binder and stowing it carefully back in the briefcase. “I’m holding you to that, Billie. I know you can do this, even if it all seems overwhelming and daunting now. You’ve got everything you need to succeed right here at this table.”

“You mean you?” I snigger under my breath, rolling my eyes a bit. “So humble, Dave.”

David laughs, his eyes flashing merrily in the light from the lamp above the table. “Well I am a useful resource.” He waves his comment aside as we both stand from the table. “When’s the next time I see you?”

“Uhm,” I hesitate, scrunching my face up as I think. “What’s today, Thursday? Tomorrow night and Saturday we play at Gilman’s—“

“Heather and I are taking Lizzie to see Heather’s parents on Sunday,” David adds in thoughtfully.

“Monday doesn’t work either,” I admit freely but stop myself in time. I had been on the brink of revealing Mario’s to David and then I would have to explain to him about how I lied about working last night and after just reinstating his trust in me, I wasn’t about to expose my lie to him quite yet. I fumble for a suitable cover upon seeing the curious look on his face. “I-I picked up some extra shifts at work on Mondays and Wednesdays,” I blurt out suddenly, laughing nervously. “So it looks like Tuesdays and Thursdays for school.”

David’s face is hard to read as he nods slowly and I can’t tell if he’s fooled by my impromptu lie or not, though I suppose I should be grateful he’s not questioning my words. He stretches tiredly and cracks his neck a few times as I wriggle into my jacket. “Tuesday night it is then. You must really be raking in all of the money from picking up all of these extra hours, Billie. When’re you taking all of us out for a nice dinner to celebrate your new found wealth?”

It takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s joking and when the reality hits me, I laugh nervously and shuffle anxiously in the direction of the front door, desperate to escape before another lie is spewed from my mouth. “How about after graduation?”

He chuckles heartily at my words, clapping me twice on my back, almost causing my knees to buckle at the sudden pressure. “Sounds like a date then. I’ll see you Tuesday evening, Billie.”

“Right,” I nod as we start down the hallway towards the front door. I pause at the doorway to the living room and peer around the frame to see Lizzie watching cartoons absorbedly. “Bye Liz,” I wave lightly, which she promptly returns with a lazy flick of her own wrist, before continuing towards the front door. “Thanks for dinner, Dave. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“We’ll be here,” David confirms, leaning against the doorway as I step off of the porch. “Any requests for dinner?”

“No, whatever Heather wants is fine,” I shrug, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I’m not picky.”

He nods and steps back into the house. “Alright, hurry if you want to catch the bus. You look tired tonight, Bill. Are you sure you’re not overworking yourself?”

My stomach turns uncomfortably at the concern coming from my older brother and I wave his comments aside with a feeble gesture. “Dave, I’m fine, I promise. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got it all under control.”

“Alright,” He hesitates, torn between continuing to nitpick at my health and letting it go. But Lizzie decides for him as a shrill scream demanding that he come inside and kill a spider erupts from inside of the house. He grimaces at her shriek before waving once again. “Duty calls. Be careful, Billie. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Night,” I answer, turning on my heel and walking quickly down the path to the gate. The metal is cool in my hands as I push open the latch and lock it carefully behind me before beginning my trek towards the bus stop.

The night air is cool against my flushed cheeks and I subconsciously let out a tiny breath of relief at being free from David’s scrutinizing stare. It was like he could see straight through my lies and was only going along with them because I was under the delusional impression that lying was better for the both of us instead of coming straight out with the truth.

“But this wouldn’t be happening if you had only buckled down and read the damn book like you were told to,” A tiny voice begins in my head. “You brought this upon yourself. Don’t mope about feeling sorry. Do something about it—”

“I am,” I announce to the empty street, my words echoing a bit faintly. For a brief moment, I’m rather startled by the sudden noise but as the realization that it was just my own voice echoing back at me dawns on me, I relax a bit. My hands go deeper into my pockets as I once again begin to walk towards the bus stop. “I am,” I repeat to myself in a soft voice, both determination and desperation seeping into my tone at the same time.