We spent the next hour going over it on her phone. I made a few suggestions, but I’d meant what I’d said: it was good already.
* * *
Somehow, Jolene wasn’t frozen after all the ice cream she’d eaten, but that didn’t stop her from shivering in her uniform the second we walked outside. Neither of us were dressed for spending extended time in the cold, but I gave her my jacket and stoically tried to keep my teeth from chattering while she filmed the snowflakes that floated down around us as we walked. She filmed me, too, and when I asked her if she was ever going to tell me about the movie I was kind of starring in, she smiled and shook her head.
“I had this idea for...something. I’m not sure yet but, I think...” She lifted her camera back to her eye and backed away from me, stepping off the curb and into the side of a parked car. She gasped and then lifted her foot from the several inches of icy slush it had sunk into and laughed. “And impossibly, I’m colder than I was a second ago.”
After that she let me talk her into going back inside a heated building, a diner where we drank hot chocolate while we waited for Cherry and Meneik to pick us up. The afternoon ended up being less Ferris Bueller and more whatever movie has the cast wandering around my small, sleepy town and narrowly avoiding frostbite.
It was one of the best days of my life.
Jolene
Tom was at the house to pick up Mom when I got home from my ditch day with Adam, and when he greeted me with a “there’s my girl,” I nearly spun on my heel and headed right back out.
Tom tended to leer in a way he thought was charming to women of all ages. I tended to throw up in my mouth each time. We’d spoken a handful of times, all at different levels of awkward, because he almost always tried to turn the conversation around to money: my mom didn’t have enough and my dad had too much. How easy it would be for me to help balance things if I would only poke around. And sure enough, he wasted no time that day.
“I’d wager you’re looking forward to spending some time with your dad next weekend.”
“Then I hope you’re not a betting man, Tom.” I walked past him to the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the crisper, lamenting the fact that I’d finished off the fried, syrupy spiral jalebi that Mrs. Cho had made me the day before. (I’d suggested The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and Slumdog Millionaire for her to watch last week and she’d been trying out Indian desserts on me ever since.)
“You know, we’ve never really talked.”
“Nice, isn’t it?”
Tom chuckled. It was hella creepy. “Guess I’m gonna have to stay on my toes around you.”
I bit my apple.
“Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Are you white meat or dark meat when it comes to turkey?”
I chewed my apple.
“Hey,” Tom said, raising his faux-tan-stained palms. “Look, I get it. I’m your mom’s boyfriend. It’s awkward. I remember how rough it was splitting holidays between my parents but I want you to know that I will never try to replace your dad.”
“Thank you for saying that, Tom. You can’t understand what that means to me.”
Tom inclined his head. “Sure thing.” Then he started to walk away before snapping his fingers as though some idea had just occurred to him. Yeah, right. “Hey, next time you’re at your dad’s, maybe keep an eye out for—” he gestured vaguely like he was coming up with all this from the top of his head “...I don’t know, bank accounts or financial statements. Snap a few pics and that’s it. It’d really help out.” He pulled a business card from his wallet and offered it to me.
I looked at it and took another bite of my apple, chewing slowly.
Tom’s mouth tightened. “Come on, Jolene. It’s time to be a team player. Your mom is getting stretched thin here, and we know your dad is hiding money. If he can afford to pay more to make sure you and your mom are taken care of, don’t you think he should?”
“My mom is far from destitute, but if you want I’ll see if I can find any spare change in the couch cushions.” When I went to throw my apple in the trash, Tom grabbed my arm—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to keep me from leaving.
“This isn’t a game. Your mom needs you, and we’re both a little tired of your unwillingness to help out. Next weekend, I want you to check his desk, take a few photos, and email them to me.” He forced the business card into my hand. “That’s not too hard for a smart girl like you, is it?”
I narrowed my eyes at him and let his card flutter to the floor. “Let’s talk smart, Tom. You picked the wrong woman if all you want is a payday. The reality is my mom’s never going to get a cent more from my dad, because he’d rather see it burn than share it with her. So, if you want his money so bad, get it yourself.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Tom backed away from me and forced a laugh. “That just got weirdly intense. I think I’m already craving that meal tomorrow and I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leaned in and lowered his voice as though divulging a secret. “I can get a little hangry if I’m not careful. Let me guess, you, too?” He laughed again. “I, ah, better go grab something before I really put my foot in my mouth. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”
I didn’t reply as I went upstairs to my room. I’d told Adam I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than share a meal with my mom and her boyfriend. Clearly, I’d grossly underestimated. Scowling, I shut the door behind me, blocking out Tom, and then scowled harder. My bedroom had been featured in some magazine when I was twelve and was supposed to represent the perfect preteen girl’s room with light, airy colors and pale wood tones. Nothing overly feminine or youthful. Clean lines, soft fabrics, zero personality. Or I don’t know, someone’s personality but not mine. I didn’t see the point in hanging movie posters or switching the bedding to anything that wasn’t a sea-foam-green leaf print. It wasn’t my room any more than the place I slept over at my dad’s was. One day I’d have my own room, my own space. It’d be tacky and mismatched and I’d let the paint get chipped around the doors instead having the whole house repainted every year in the same colors.
That would have felt nice.
Releasing the doorknob, I moved to sit on the plush mattress and forced the earlier memories from the day to blot out the conversation I’d had with Tom. No sooner did Adam’s face fill my mind than my heart fluttered. He’d been so cute when he first saw me. And nervous. And then cuter still when he tried to downplay how nervous he was. I laughed in my quiet magazine-spread bedroom. The happy feeling faded before the sound did.
He should have been nervous. He just spent an entire afternoon with his not-girfriend. I’d had to remind him about her. I had to do that more than I liked when we were together. Not that he forgot she existed but sometimes...it was like he let himself stop thinking about her when he was with me. And did that mean he let himself forget about me when he was with her? My stomach lurched and then lurched again. Was I even allowed to feel jealous? I flopped backward on the bed and one of the little peach throw pillows toppled over to rest against my cheek. The smooth satin felt cool and comforting and did nothing to settle the unease swirling inside me.