“Shut the fuck up, birds!”
I stood on the sidewalk outside Kara’s apartment, gawking at her as she yelled and glared at the birds perched on a tree and happily singing.
After Caleb’s practice, he and I had skipped the drive-in theater and had just arrived at his apartment when his phone rang. It was Cameron asking if he could come over. I had a feeling something bad had happened between him and Kara so I hurried out, declining Caleb’s insistent offer that he’d drive me, and took the bus to check on Kara.
She sat on a white bench, half hidden by one of the two columns lining her porch and the big pots of blue and hot-pink flowers hanging from the ceiling. Suddenly, she jumped up and went inside her apartment, and just as suddenly came out with a spade in her hand and started stabbing the left column like a madwoman.
“I hate you! I hate you. I hate you.”
“Uh, Kar?”
She turned at the sound of my voice, her hands going limp at her sides. She lowered her head, and I was afraid she was crying.
“Are you okay?” I asked, walking to her cautiously.
I glanced at the column, wondering what had upset her about it. There was writing on it, but it was unrecognizable now.
She let out a heavy sigh. When she looked up, her eyes were bright but dry. “I’m really glad you came,” she mumbled. She walked the few steps to me and squished me in a hug.
When I felt wetness on my shoulder, I wrapped my arms around her awkwardly.
My heart felt heavy. This was a familiar scene to me. Most of my life, I’d seen my mom crying and locking herself in her bedroom for days after my dad left. Unlike my mom, who rejected any kind of touch, Kara clung to me.
“You’re such a pathetic hugger.” She sniffed again. “Hug me like you mean it, jerkface.”
I choked on a laugh, hugging her tighter. “Wanna talk about it? I brought ice cream.”
“Cookies and cream?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Come on in,” she said.
I followed her inside. Her apartment was as interesting as her personality. Wide windows were covered with pale-blue lace curtains. The walls, painted a creamy white, boasted postcards from different countries. One wall was solely dedicated to photographs of her family and friends. Kara was a family-oriented person, whether she liked to admit it or not.
Jeweled lamps stood on white high tables with curved legs. There was a couch the shape of a woman’s lips in the living room, flanked by two high-back French chairs that surprisingly looked great with the couch. Elegant throw pillows in royal blue sat on them. In the middle was a round coffee table with a messy collection of empty beer cans, an open jar of Nutella with a spoon in it, and crumpled tissues scattered everywhere. Her TV was on, and Gone with the Wind was playing on the screen.
“I see you’ve been busy,” I commented, dropping onto one of the chairs.
Kara sprawled on the couch and stared at the ceiling.
“What happened, Kar?”
“He drove me back to his place,” she answered after a moment. I could hear the pain in her voice. “Nothing happened. Nothing at all. So why does that hurt more?”
“Kar…”
She covered her eyes with her arm. “Could you grab us some beers from the fridge, Ver?”
“Sure.”
In the kitchen, my hand froze on the fridge door handle when I spotted a picture held by a magnet on the door. Kara was sitting on Cameron’s lap, her arms around his neck, glasses askew, smiling like a loon at the camera. Cameron’s arms caged her body, and he bit her chin playfully. His eyes were closed, oblivious that someone was taking their picture.
They looked very happy.
I closed my eyes, silently sympathizing with her. This was one of the reasons why I didn’t want a relationship.
Relationships were complicated. They twisted you up inside until you were no longer yourself and pushed you to do stupid things you’d promised yourself you’d never do. Ridiculous.
I placed the ice cream in the freezer, grabbed two cans of beer, and padded back to the living room. Kara scooted upright on the couch when she saw me and reached for the beer I handed her.
She popped it open, and the cracking sound made me cringe as I sat on the chair beside her.
I counted five empty cans on the coffee table. Studying her face, I noticed she didn’t even look slightly drunk, her hold on the can steady. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and her nose was red.
I took a sip of my beer, then placed it on the table. I waited for her to open up, but she didn’t. She just kept sipping her beer, her eyes transfixed on the TV screen. Suddenly, I heard her sob.
“He used to do that to me, that asshole. Just like Rhett Butler with Scarlett.” She took a long sip from her beer, then wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
I glanced at the screen. “What, give you horse rides?”
“No, Sherlock.” She sat up straight. “See right through me. That asshole can see right through me.” There was a gleam in her eye as she rose from the couch and walked to her bedroom with purpose. I followed.
“So then maybe I should be unpredictable, huh?” she continued, opening her closet, which was bursting with clothes. She pushed hangers aside, pulled out a dress, and walked to the mirror. “I’m done being pathetic,” she declared, plastering a tight hot-pink dress to her front. “I may have no tits, but I’m a strong, independent, confident woman.”
“Okay, but what’s the connection between having no tits and being a strong, independent, confident woman?”
“Just saying,” she huffed. “I may be a plain Jane by society’s standards, but beauty fades. The strength of your character doesn’t. And mine is as strong as the wind, baby. As strong as the wind.”
She went back to her closet, pulling out another dress. This time, it was a strappy black number.
“What are you doing?” I asked, curious.
“There’s a party at a friend’s house today. Please go with me.”
I shut my eyes as she pulled her shirt up and off. I let out a sigh. I didn’t want to go to a party, but she seemed to need it. I opened one eye. “You done?”
“Yep. You’ll have fun.” All dressed now, she went to her vanity table. “I’ll find you someone, and you guys can, I don’t know, watch bacteria grow or something.”
I grabbed one of the smaller pillows from her bed and threw it at her. “Kiss my fat ass.”
She dodged, and the pillow landed at her feet. “Once you kiss my flat ass.” She winked. “I should have a dress for you somewhere in my closet. Take your pick.”
I wasn’t dressed to party, but it didn’t matter. Besides, there was absolutely no way I’d fit in her clothes, and we both knew it. She was tall and slim, and I was short and curvy.
“I’m good, Kar, thanks.” I picked up the pillow from the floor and tossed it back on her bed. “I hope you’re wearing panties in that excuse for a dress because I’d hate to see your cooch, but you look gorgeous.” The short, black dress made her long legs look even longer.
“I’ll look more gorgeous once I’m done with my makeup. Want me to do your face?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Do me a favor and put on some lipstick, please.”
I frowned when she handed me tubes of lipstick and mascara. I put the mascara back in her case.
“What happened today, Kar?”
She shrugged, but it was obvious she was pretending it didn’t matter. “I just want to have fun tonight,” she replied, expertly putting in her contact lenses.
I nodded. I found that the more I nagged her, the more she closed up. She’d tell me what was bothering her in her own time.
“How is it,” she began, angrily digging the hairbrush against her skull, “that he’s got more dick in his personality than what’s snuggling in his underwear?” Then she blinked. “Actually, that’s not true. Cameron’s—”
“Stop!” I covered my ears. “I really don’t want to hear this!”
She snorted. “Bitch, please. As if you haven’t.”
I met her eyes in the mirror.
Her eyes rounded in disbelief. “Ver?”
I pursed my lips, shook my head. “I’m a virgin,” I confessed.
“What? How…?” She blinked, her jaw dropping. “Virgin…like the Virgin Mary?”
I took a healthy swig of beer. I don’t even like beer.
She whistled. “Damn. That’s good. I’m proud of you. Really, really impressed. But how is it you haven’t boned Lockhart yet?”
“Kar!”
“I mean, how can you resist him? And don’t tell me he hasn’t tried to get you in bed. That guy’s a walking hard-on. Or you just really don’t want to?”
“It’s not like that.”
She paused in applying her mascara, mouth slightly open, eyes directed at me, waiting for me to explain.
“I’m not waiting till after marriage or anything like that, but giving myself to someone… It’s a big deal for me. I want it to mean something. It means…”
Everything, I realized. When I decided to give myself to someone, it would mean everything to me.
“I get that. I really do,” Kara said, her expression grave.
“Besides, Caleb isn’t known for his celibacy,” I reasoned. It bothered me more than it should.
“Has he slept with anyone else since he met you?”
The thought of him sleeping with someone else left a bitter taste in my mouth. “I don’t know,” I replied.
Kara narrowed her eyes, a naughty gleam in them. “It’s frustrating to be in love with someone who’s slept with everyone, isn’t it?” I knew she was talking about Cameron. “Maybe he needs some competition. Hot-guys buffet at the party, my friend.” She winked at me, fluffing her hair. “Let’s go be bad, BFF.”
