Janie's Eternal Freedom

I call up Marcus as soon as I wake up Saturday morning.

“OK, so now you want to go to Rigg’s party?” He asks, yawning in the process. I nod furiously, but realize that he can’t see me. “Yes. I would like to. I would like to very much.”

“Stop talking like that.” Marcus says. The phone disconnects for a while, but then I hear his voice again.

“Sorry, I dropped it.”

“Stop talking like what? I’m talking just fine!” I say. I go down the stairs and turn on the TV. Jersey Shore comes on, which makes me think even more about the party. I switch to Spongebob.

“Oh please, Janie. You know what I’m talking about. ‘Oh yes Sir Marcus, I would like to go to the party very much. I would like to go now, please.” He remarks, laughing.

“Whoa!” I hear over the phone, followed by a big thump. “Sorry again, I fell off my bed.”

I would’ve laughed my ass off right now, but I’m still way too nervous about Rigg’s bash, so I don’t say anything.

After a few moments of silence, Marcus finally says something. “OK, what’s wrong? Nervous about going to your first party?”

I shrug. “Maybe? I don’t know. I guess I am.”

Marcus chuckles. “Look, it’s your first party. In senior year. Just relax. People come to a party to have fun, not to be nervous.”

“And, I’ll be with you, right?” I ask, twiddling my thumbs together while juggling the phone between my neck and cheek.

There’s another stretch of silence.

“Right?” I say again, this time, louder.

“About that…” He trails off.

I’m fumed. How can Marcus make plans for Saturday? Does that mean that I’ll have to face the party alone?

“Marcus? Aren’t you going to the party?” I ask.

Marcus sighs. “Sorry Janie. I can’t. I’ve got this debate thing for school.”

I laugh nervously. “Fine, then I just won’t go to the party.” A sense of relief fills over me, but I’m still wondering if it’s the right choice. I might never be invited to another party again.

“No!” says Marcus abruptly. “You’re going to that party!”

“But Marcus! I won’t be with you, and I won’t know anyone! I’m a loser! Everyone will make fun of me!”

Marcus laughs. “Janie, you’re gorgeous. I know that you don’t think you are, but you’ve got a beautiful face, and that is every boy’s weakness. A good-looking girl. So, you definitely don’t have a problem with the boys. And, you’re tough. I know you are. I’m sure that you won’t let Jill, Libby, Torrin or whoever bring you down.”

I sigh, and watch Spongebob make a Krabby Patty. Spongebob is brave, I guess. At least braver than me. “OK. I’ll go to the party, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll come out alive.”

Marcus laughs. “That’s my girl.”

I can hear him moving on the other side of the line. “What are you doing?” I ask. “I’m dressing up. Hey, I’ve got to go. My parents are having breakfast at my grandpa’s house, and I have to go with them. Bye.” Before I can even say bye, the phone disconnects.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Just after my parents leave, I sneak into my dad’s wine cellar and grab 2 packs of beer from the refrigerator in the back. He calls it his “underground alcohol cave.”

I know that if I’m going to this party, and I don’t want to look like a total wannabe stoner, I’ll have to know what it feels like to get tipsy. So, I need some beer.

A lot.

I drink one bottle, just to know what it tastes like, and haul the beer into the front seat of my car and drive off.

I turn right and within 5 minutes, I’m in front of Rigg Sony’s house, which is about the same size as mine. What seems like millions of cars are parked outside and drunken teenagers spill out the front door, dazed, confused, and probably ready to vomit.

I can’t believe Marcus would leave me alone. I decide to not bring the beer and just step out of my front door with fake confidence and probably too much perfume. I’m wearing a strapless dress that I fished out of my mom’s slutty closet accompanied by some Jimmy Choo heels that my aunt got for me last month. I tried to do my makeup at least a little bit presentable, dotting eyeliner along the edges and smearing on just a little lip gloss. Besides, probably ¾ of the kids in that house are already drunk, so I doubt that anyone will recognize me as dorky Janie Kooly.

As soon as my heel hits the ground, my dress rides up and a teenage boy whistles at me. Before long, he and his group of friends come over and try to coax me into leaving with one of them.

“Wow, you are hot. Do you go to JV?” One of them says, saliva dripping out of the corner of his mouth. He’s obviously stoned, and so are his comrades. I nod, before I push one of them out of the way. They grab me by the arm, and I slap them with the other hand.

“Well, well, well, gorgeous here has a bit of a temper.” He whispers into my ear. His hot breath smells of vodka.

“Hey, Szymkowski, get off of her!” Someone yells. I look off to my side and it’s Rigg. He’s dressed in black shorts and a white button down shirt that’s pushed up to his elbows.

He practically runs to my defense and pries the mongrels off of me, pushing them aside and telling them to get away from his house. When they’re finally gone, he stuffs his hands into his pocket and beams at me.

“Little monkeys. You’d think they’d be better behaved.” He says. I smile, and then Rigg checks me out and starts laughing.

I smack him across the shoulder since he can’t seem to control himself. I tug my dress down and realize that this outfit was probably not the best idea. “OK.” I say. “I get it. I look pathetic. You’re technically my student, so I wouldn’t laugh that much if I were you.”

Rigg shakes his head. “No, you look great. It’s just, why are you dressed like that? It’s so…not you.” He replies. I scoff.

“Then what am I supposed to show up in then? A blazer and some corduroy pants?” I remark. It’s bad enough that Rigg thinks that I look ridiculous, but what will Torrin think?

“No, it’s not like that Janie. You look really pretty. It’s just that, you’re my tutor you know? It’s weird seeing you like this.” He pats me on the shoulder awkwardly and I slightly smile. He called me pretty. The only people that have called me that are my parents and Libby.

“It’s a good thing that you showed up. The party was starting to get boring. Come on.” Rigg says.

It’s just what I imagined the party to be like. Loud music pumps through the whole house, beer bottles thrown all over the floor, and lastly, beautiful people sliding their tongues down other people’s throats.

Even though it’s only my first highschool party, I can’t say I expected anything less.

He leads me to the kitchen table, where there is a significant amount of alcohol dotting every corner. A few sober girls lean against it, talking about relationships and a guy named Robert who dated each and every single one of them.

“Did you see Robert’s hair today? He got a new haircut and I’m pretty sure he was giving me the look under his bangs!” one of them squeals.

“Dana, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t eyeing you. I mean, come on! You were wearing your bad skirt today. You know the one that makes you look like a hippopotamus?” Before she can react, Rigg pulls on her arm and tells her to relax. She immediately tenses and slaps his hand away, leading her friends outside.

“Dana. She can get really antsy, I tell you.” He says, sipping a bit of Coke. His hair falls to the side, but it makes him look surprisingly insecure.

I nod. “Did you used to go out with her?” My dress is starting to get uncomfortable, and I can practically feel Keegan McCarlon, a former all-around great guy until word got out that he got his ex-girlfriend pregnant, burning a hole in my ass.

Rigg laughs, which seems to be happening often, and shakes his head. “No. Oh GOD NO. Dana? Jesus Christ Janie, I may be stupid, but not that stupid to be with her.” He chuckles once again.

Hearing about how Rigg is shockingly picky about his girlfriends makes me wonder how many he’s had. To think about it, I’ve only seen him with around 2 girls for four years in Jackson Visitation; whereas Torrin has been with so many that he’s probably lost count.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I see the devil himself going down Rigg’s huge staircase with his arm around Jill. Both of them are obviously beyond wasted.

I catch the look on Rigg’s face. He’s looking at them like he’s disappointed, angry, and most of all, sad. He gulps down hard, but when he catches me staring at him, his whole demeanor changes. “Can you believe those two?” He says, pointing shakily towards Torrin. He’s licking Jill’s cheek, totally oblivious that he’s taken.

I gulp down too. “Torrin has a girlfriend.” I murmur. Rigg nods, before grabbing my arm and pulling me to the stairs, walking fast like he’s going to be some unannounced hero. He waits for them at the bottom of the staircase, blowing hair repeatedly out of his face in an angry manner. If it weren’t for the situation that we were in, I would’ve laughed.

Finally, they come down. “Oh God. If Jill goes home drunk again then she’s going to tell her mom who is going to tell my mom and then I will be stoned and made to go out on the street in a bunny suit.” I stifle a laugh but Rigg looks dead serious. I clear my throat to erase my awkwardness.

As soon as Jill is down, he grabs her arm and looks at me like he’s going to ask me to jump off a cliff for him. “Can you do a favor for me? Can you drive Torrin home? His address is on his phone.”

I panic. “Well, are you taking Jill home?”

He nods at me like I’m the student and he’s the tutor.

“Why can’t you just take Jill and Torrin in your car? You’re better friends with both of them.” I mumble.

“Jill’s house is 20 minutes away. I can’t leave my house unattended for more than 40 minutes because I’m pretty sure that it will catch on fire without my supervision. Besides, I know that you and Jill don’t really get along, and when she’s wasted, she can get pretty violent.”

I groan. “OK, but you have to pay me-”

Rigg claps his hand and bows to me. “Thank you! Thank you! I’ll pay you extra, I promise.” He interrupts. He pulls Jill by the arm, yelling, “Dana! Dana, no! DON’T HIT HER WITH MY VASE! Robert was giving you looks!”

I sigh, look at Torrin, who can barely stand up, and go over to him and wrap his arm around my shoulders. “Janie?” He mumbles eyes half lidded. He stumbles over my foot.

“Careful there, wise guy.” I murmur. Torrin bursts out laughing. As soon as we pass a bunch of people, I haul him into my car and shove him into the front seat, where he yelps. I laugh, realizing that he sat on the beer bottles, and move them to the back.

“Janie…Janie…”He moans, looking up at the hood of the car. “Yes?” I can’t find his phone. It’s not in his jacket pocket or his front pants pocket, so it must mean that it’s in his back pockets. Oh joy.

“Why do you look so different? You look like…” He trails off before coughing. “A WHORE!” He screams. I smack my hand across his face like it’s an impulse. He moans and rubs his hand over his cheek, looking at me like I’m an alien from outer space.

“Don’t you ever call me that again, Torrin Kennedy, you hear me? I don’t care if your dad is in a motherfucking hospital, you don’t get to call me a whore.” I say, jabbing a finger into his chest. He doesn’t say anything but look at the ground, probably lost in his own thoughts.

I sigh. “Torrin. Stand up.” He shakes his head like he’s a little boy. I groan.

“Torrin stand up. I need to get your phone out of your pocket.” He doesn’t budge.

So instead, I grab around his torso and reach his phone, pulling it out of his ass pocket. Torrin laughs before surprisingly planting a wet, slobbery kiss on my neck. I smack him again. “You bastard! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Torrin giggles and leans his head back into the seat. I shut the door and walk to the driver’s side, taking off my heels and throwing them in the back. How can people ever walk in those? I think.

“OK. Torrin, I’m going to drive you home now.” I say. He’s staring at me like I’m supposed to say something more, but I don’t. Instead, I get out his phone, click on Maps, and soon enough, there’s a path to his house.

I start the car, and this is when I realize that Torrin is supposed to say something stupid, but he doesn’t. He just sits there. He doesn’t even seem drunk anymore.

It’s been around 10 minutes on the road, and Torrin still hasn’t said anything. I don’t know if it’s just because he’s sleepy, or he’s too wasted to say anything, but something just doesn’t seem right. I know we’re supposed to loathe each other, but I can’t help but wonder what’s keeping his brain a wreck.

“Torrin?” I ask. He doesn’t budge.

“Torrin!” I say again, hitting him in the side, causing the car to swerve into the other lane for a second. He looks at me.

“Are you OK? I mean, I know you’re drunk and all, but can you say something?”

In his reply, he coughs.

It’s been around 15 minutes on the road, and I pull into Torrin’s house.

It’s gorgeous, actually. It has red stucco roofs and even a little gazebo on their front lawn. The house is beige with wide windows and glass doors. It’s remarkable, and extremely huge. It probably cost a fortune.

I get out of the car and pull Torrin out of his seat. Right now I’m convinced that he’s just so tired that he can’t even mutter a word. His arm is around my shoulders, and I’m practically dragging him to his front door. When we reach it, I ring the doorbell and peek inside. No one seems to be in it.

“No one’s home. Mom is boyfriend. Sister is college. Dad is dead.” He slurs.

What really catches me off-guard is the last sentence he speaks. Dad is dead. I thought that Torrin was so sure that his father would live, so sure that he would make it through his coma. But could there be a little inkling inside him thinking that his father is already dead?

I jingle the door open and walk him into his living room. It’s very nicely decorated, with big spaces and comfortable yet classy furniture. I set him on the couch, and just as I’m about to head out the door, he grabs my arm. “Don’t leave. I’ll be lonely.”

I take a good look at him. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his face seems like it has no color whatsoever. He’s still gripping my arm. “I have to go.” I whisper.

Torrin’s grip doesn’t budge. It’s like he’s trying to look inside me, to know what’s going on in my life. His eyes are so intense that I’m sure that if it weren’t for his drunkenness, he would’ve pushed me down on the couch and started stabbing me repeatedly with a butter knife.

“Please.” He mumbles before collapsing on the sofa, reaching for the TV remote.

I laugh because he looks ridiculous.

“OK.” I say, sitting down on the couch next to him, He’s sat up, and has the remote control in his hand, watching an episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. He’s so transfixed that I wonder that if I leave, would he even notice?

“Torrin?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re drunk.” I state, looking straight at the TV. I adjust my dress and glance to my side looking at his profile and strong bone structure.

“Oh.” He slurs before lying down on my lap. I lift my hands up almost instantly, and my legs stiffen. My heart is racing, and I don’t know if I should stand up and leave or smack some sense into him. Because not only is he lying on my lap, he’s looking straight at me like he’s just learned the secrets of the universe.

“Torrin. Get off of me.” I practically yell. He doesn’t.

I try to shrug him off, but his head won’t move, and when I try to stand up, his hand anchors me down.

“Janie you don’t look like yourself.” He giggles. I scoff and don’t say anything back.

“No, I’m serious. Don’t try to change….you look so pretty at school…now you look like Libby…don’t look like Libby…” He trails off. My mouth is ajar. Did he just call me pretty?

“What?” I say, looking down on him. He smiles.

“You know what I’m talking about! Hahaha. Janie, don’t look like Libby because Libby doesn’t care what people think. She only cares what Libby cares. She doesn’t care what Torrin cares. She cares about Janie though. She cares about you. And Marcus cares about you. And Rigg cares about you! And your family cares about you! Everyone cares about you!”

My eyes sting. Could it be possible that Libby cares about me? Could all those meaningless looks and dangerous words just be a bluff because she’s in front of Jill or something? Could she really still want to be friends with me? Maybe we can have those walks again around Seattle. We can rekindle our friendship and we can gossip about what Jill was wearing or about how cute Marcus looked today or something like that. We could be like old friends again, can’t we? Maybe the bathroom thing was just an accident.

But then, what about the bathroom thing? She downgraded me, she insulted me, and she humiliated me. She ditched me for rude, selfish people that only care about their looks, and never even bothered to contact me again. I’m the only one that she’s poured her life out to, and she doesn’t care.

Do I want Libby to care about me?

“…and I care about you.” Torrin says.

Every thought about Libby vanishes. It’s like she’s wiped from my memory at that exact moment and it’s just Torrin and I, with his head in my lap and his slurred words and beer smelling breath. “What?” I manage to gasp.

He sits up and twirls a piece of my hair around his index finger. “Thas’ right. I care about you Janie. I’ve always cared about you. More than Marcus. I can’t stand it when he kisses you kay? I really can’t s-stand it, Janie. I really can’t. Really can’t. Really can’t.” His voice breaks in the middle of the sentence and he lies down on the couch. His eyes close and he grabs a pillow and hugs it.

I take this as my chance to run. I bolt off the sofa, which Torrin doesn’t seem to notice, and run out the door. I get into my car and drive off, positively surprised about what he just said.

“I’ve always cared about you.” His voice echoes in my ear.