Elena’s father died on a Tuesday. Sister Immaculata was somber when she announced the news to her sleepy, first-period English class. The news did warrant some audible gasps, and several scolders clasped hands, screwed their eyes shut, and started whispering prayers. Lucy rolled her eyes at them. They didn’t give a crap about Elena, or he father. It was just another excuse for them to show off their pious superiority.
Meg and Lucy weren’t surprised at the announcement. They knew it was coming. Elena had been absent all week, to spend as much time with her father as possible.
“She called me last night,” Lucy said as they walked toward their next class. “The funeral is tomorrow at ten.”
“You’re not going, are you?”
“We’re all going.”
“What about school?”
“Fuck school,” Lucy said, too loudly. “We’re her friends. We’re going.”
Meg shuffled along behind her.
“Wouldn’t it be, I don’t know, hypocritical for me to go?”
Lucy’s eyebrows knit together. “What, are you afraid she's going to ask you for grieving advice? If she does, just make some shit up. You’re going to the funeral.”
Meg was very uneasy. It was one thing to lie to Elena when her father was still around and somewhat lucid, but it would be remarkably heartless to do it after the poor girl’s dad had died.
“I thought you didn’t want me to lie to her.”
“I don’t, but you’re not going to tell her right after her father has died. That would be incredibly cruel.” Lucy paused, and turned and looked at Meg. “Even for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come off it, Meg. I know you don’t like Elena. It kills you not to roll your eyes every time she talks.” Meg tried to deny this, but Lucy just waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter. She thinks you’re her friend, just go and pretend you don’t hate her guts.”
“I don’t hate her,” Meg said, and it was true. Her jealousy hadn’t faded, not completely, but Elena did annoy her less. The wide-eyed innocence wasn’t an act. Elena was genuinely sweet, and kind-hearted, as beautiful inside as she was out. “Not really.”
“Good.” Lucy was all business. “Then you should have no trouble showing a little sympathy for her.”
Surprisingly, Lucy walked over to Johanne’s locker.
“The funeral is tomorrow at eleven,” she said, holding out a piece of paper. “This is the address of the church.”
Johanne took it.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said, tucking it into her pocket.
Lucy just shrugged and walked away.
#
Elena and her family gathered at the top of the church. They were a large, lively group, and even then, consumed with grief, they were a loud, harmonious unit. Several women were openly weeping, but a few others were smiling, even laughing, and wiping away tears as they shared their memories. Elena was smack dab in the middle of them, her arm around one elderly aunt, and her hand clasped with a sister. She was smiling through her tears.
Zach and Flynn were standing in the vestibule, looking uncomfortable in ill-fitting, rumpled suits.
Meg’s heart did a little flip when she saw Flynn. Maybe Ian would come to the funeral too. He knew Elena. He might want to pay his respects. She looked around the church, hopefully, but of course, he wasn’t there. She couldn’t picture him at a funeral, in a somber dark suit. In a suit of any kind. He was too lively, for a funeral. Too alive. It would be as weird as seeing a camel hanging out with a herd of caribou somewhere in the Arctic.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Meg whispered to Zach.
Zach just stared back at her. “What do you mean?”
“Your girlfriend’s father just died.”
“Yeah, but it’s not my father. I mean, you don’t have to say you’re sorry or whatever to me.”
“Where’s Lucy?” Meg wondered aloud, to break up the awkward silence.
Elena saw them then, and sprinted down the main aisle of the church, her heels clacking against the wood floors. She hugged each of them, lingering the longest on Meg.
“I’m so glad you came,” she whispered. She nodded to Zach, and he walked into the church, with Flynn right on his heels. They sat down in a back pew, far away from Elena’s family.
“Of course,” Meg said. Elena grabbed her hand and pulled her away. There was a tiny bathroom tucked into the basement floor of the church. Elena pulled her inside and shut the door behind them. Meg fumbled against the wall, searching for the light switch. She found it, pushed it up and the tiny room exploded with harsh, fluorescent light. She blinked.
“Thank god you’re here,” Elena said. Her fingers squeezed Meg’s. “I’ve been dying to talk to someone.”
“What about your family?” Meg said. There were so many of them. Surely, one of them could offer Elena a sympathetic shoulder to cry on?
“It’s just so hard. I never thought it would be so hard.” She started to sob, big fat tears falling on her cheeks.
“Do you want me to get your sisters? Or maybe Zach?”
“Zach doesn’t understand,” she said, sniffling. “He doesn’t get it. I don’t think he even cares. Every time I cry, he just starts to back away from me, like crying is some contagious disease he’d get just by looking at me. He’s a good guy, and he’s a good boyfriend, but I just wish…oh, it’s awful for me even to think it.”
“You wish he could be better,” Meg answered for her. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting more, Elena. If Zach’s not the guy for you? If he’s not giving you the support, you need? Dump him.”
“Now? I couldn’t. I’d be all alone then. And he loves me so much. You even said so! I don’t want to hurt him.”
“It’s an option, Elena. That’s all. It’s OK to be selfish.”
“Is that how you got through? By focusing on yourself? I read a book like that once. It was all about putting yourself first. Is that what I should do?”
“Maybe,” Meg said. “I don’t know. I think you just take it day by day.”
“Day by day,” Elena sighed. “I can do that. So, I should just concentrate on getting through today, then? Ok. God, I wish I didn’t have to do this stupid reading. I hate talking in front of people.”
“I do too,” Meg admitted.
“But you’re the lead in the school play! You’re going to be in front of a huge audience!”
Meg grimaced at this over-estimation of Rose school’s theatre enthusiasts. They’d be lucky to fill 1/3 of the auditorium’s seats, but even that number filled Meg with dread.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Meg whispered. She couldn’t tell her that her father was alive, and she couldn’t spill the truth about Zach, but she could share this one small confidence.
Elena nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I don’t want to be an actress. The thought of standing up on that stage? It makes me want to pee my pants. I’d much rather work backstage, helping with the costumes or the props. I’m on academic probation, so they’re not going to let me act, and I am so relieved.”
“I can’t believe it. Why would you pretend you wanted to be an actress?”
Meg shrugged. “You know how these things happen. I mentioned to someone that I like movies, and it just snowballed from there. It doesn’t matter.” She reached up to put her hands on Elena’s shoulders. “When you’re up there, doing your reading? No matter how scared you are, or how horrible you think you are, remember me, sitting down there in the pews. You couldn’t mess up half as bad as I would.”
“Thanks, Meggie,” Elena said.
Meg grabbed a handful of toilet paper-really awful, hard stuff-and gave it to Elena. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose before opening the door.
“Meggie, are you coming to my house after? There’s going to be a catered lunch. I’d love it if you’d come.”
“Ok.”
“Meg? There’s going to be lots of yummy stuff there. Even canapes! I would love it if you’d eat something.” She smiled as she opened the door. “I’ll see you there.”
When Elena was gone, she looked at her reflection in the tiny mirror over the sink. She looked pale in the harsh light, except for two blotches of red that burned brightly on her cheeks. She felt like an enormous fink for lying about her father, and for pushing Elena toward Zach. Scott and Lucy’s relationship hadn’t even lasted. It had been a stupid fling, but now Elena was stuck with Zach, a nice enough guy, but so unworthy of her it was criminal. Maybe she could convince Elena to kick him to the curb after things had settled down a bit.
The bathroom door flew inward, and Lucy burst in.
“There you are,” she said, smiling. She looked comfortable in her dark, somber clothes; it wasn’t a stretch from her normal wardrobe.
“Where have you been?” Meg asked as Lucy shoved her aside so she could look in the mirror.
“Crap, I can’t see. Do I have anything on my face?” She turned her cheek To Meg. “Any bodily fluids?”
“That’s disgusting,” Meg handed her a bundle of toilet paper, just like she had done with Elena. “I guess I don’t have to ask what you’ve been doing.”
Lucy ran the toilet paper under the tap and tried to wipe her cheek.
“I needed to get all the naughtiness out of my system before I came here to be a good, supportive friend to Elena.” She cupped her hand under the tap, drank a little of the water, gargled, and then spit it out.
“There. That’s better.” She ran her tongue over her teeth. “No, it’s not. Do you have gum or mints?”
Meg took the package of mints out of her purse and shook three into Lucy’s waiting palm.
“That’s my Meg. Always prepared.” She popped the mints into her mouth, smiled, and tucked her arm into Meg’s. “Let’s go. Sad faces on.”
They walked back to the vestibule. It was empty. Soft music was playing in the church. The mass had begun.
Meg and Lucy walked up the aisle together, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Lucy skipped a little with each step, and she couldn’t stop a little smile from forming on her lips.
“Jesus, you’re happy,” Meg whispered. “Who is this guy, and what exactly did he do to you?”
Lucy waited until they passed a pew full of wailing old women, then she leaned closer to Meg.
“I’ve had a lot of sex, Meg. Mostly, I’ve had a lot of bad sex. I’ve had some good sex too, but today, today I had…phenomenal sex.”
She stood in the middle of the church aisle and giggled. Her happiness was so infectious; Meg couldn’t help but giggle too. The people in the front pew nearest to them turned and frowned at them. They covered their mouths and continued up the aisle.
They found their friends sitting in the middle of the church. Johanne was at the far end of the pew, so they scooted in next to Zach and Flynn. Meg tried to wait at the edge of the pew, so she could sit on the aisle and be spared from having to sit next to Flynn, but Lucy shoved her inside.
“I need to sit on the end,” she whispered. “So he’ll see us.”
Meg climbed over her and sat down next to Flynn. He scooted over a bit and gave her a small, apologetic smile. He’d rolled up the program and was beating it against his leg, keeping in time with the music. Meg watched it, mesmerized until she felt herself being pushed against, squeezed so close to Flynn she was practically on his lap. She looked up, to check out Lucy’s new phenomenal paramour, and saw Ian squeezing in beside Lucy. Ian. Ian, in stiff-looking jeans and a blazer. Wearing a tie. He looked up, smiled, wiggled his fingers at her before reaching down and interlacing them in Lucy’s.
The congregation stood as the priest came down the aisle, flanked by the readers and two sullen altar boys holding fragrant candles. Meg stood too, shaking.
Ian and Lucy. Lucy and Ian. Naughtiness. Phenomenal. Bodily fluids on Lucy’s cheek.
Incense drifted toward her, much stronger than the stuff they used in morning chapel at Rose. It filled her nose, her open mouth. She tried to grasp the back of the pew in front of her, but it was slick with polish, and her fingers kept slipping.
She didn’t remember falling or hitting her head against the pew, or Flynn’s quick hands grabbing her waist and pulling her upright.
BEFORE
T
he crowded waiting room was full coughing children and their nervous mothers. Meg wasn’t the only teenage girl there. There were several others on the other side of the room, swinging their legs, snapping gum. One girl in the corner was sobbing silently.
Meg had come to this free clinic before, after the beating that had left her concussed. Jefferson’s nurse had wanted her to see her pediatrician, an ancient man with a rheumatic cough who still handed out lollipops and tried to bounce her on his knee. If she had shown up there, his nurse, a busybody bitch, would call her mother. And the police.
Like that last visit to the clinic, Meg wanted to be anonymous. She filled out the form with a fake name and address. She hoped the young Indian doctor, the pretty one with the slow smile, would be working again. She had shined a flashlight in her eyes and had asked no questions.
Just as she had finished checking off the last boxes on the five-page form, a nurse called her phony name. She remembered it was supposed to be her, leaped from her seat, and followed the nurse down the hall. The back of the clinic was even more crowded than the front, with boxes and a gurney blocking off most of the hall. The exam room had several occupied beds, all separated by flimsy curtains. They walked over to an empty one. The nurse handed her a Johnny and told her to undress before pulling the curtain around the bed and walking away. After carefully folding the Johnnie and placing it on her lap, Meg settled herself on the bed. Forty-five minutes, two magazines, and a religious tract later, the young doctor burst through the door.
She pushed aside the curtain, and, noticing the folded Johnnie on Meg’s lap, frowned.
“You’ve already gotten dressed. I’m so sorry. This place is a madhouse today.”
Her accent was beautiful, melodic and rich. She looked tired. Meg wondered how long it would take until she got jaded and decided to exchange her inner-city clinic for a lucrative private practice out in the ‘burbs.
“I’m not leaving,” Meg explained. “I just didn’t think I needed a Johnny.”
“Ok,” The doctor looked suspicious. This was not going to be as easy as Meg had hoped.
“What brings you in here today?” The doctor asked, shuffling papers on her clipboard. “Do you want birth control?”
“No.”
“Are you pregnant?”
Meg laughed, but the doctor’s sharp look made her stop. She wondered how many pregnant teenage girls she dealt with each day.
“No,” Meg said. “I’m not pregnant. I was hoping you could write me a prescription,” she said, trying to be quiet so the other people in the room would hear. “For something that would help me lose weight.”
The doctor tucked the clipboard under her arm. “Step on the scale.”
Meg regretted not taking off her clothes. The bulky sweater she was wearing was at least eight pounds. She slipped off her shoes, a pound or two each, before stepping up on the scale.
The doctor pushed the weight back and forth, pausing at a number that made Meg want to cry.
“You’re borderline overweight, but you’re far from obese. How much weight do you want to lose?”
“As much as I can.”
The doctor sighed and pinched the base of her nose. She looked really tired.
“There are medications available for weight loss, but they’re meant for the morbidly obese. You’re ten, fifteen pounds overweight. I cannot prescribe these medications to you.”
“Is there something else I can use?” Meg knew she sounded desperate, but she didn’t care. “Something over the counter?”
“Over the counter diet aids are caffeine pills. They may give you a boost of energy, but you can accomplish the same thing with a cup of coffee. The only advice I can give you is to modify your diet and get more exercise.”
“How should I modify my diet?” Meg asked, eager. “Should I do one of those lemonade cleanses? Or the cabbage soup thing? Do they work?”
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“You’re still growing,” the doctor said. “Your body is still changing. You need to make sure you’re getting adequate nutrition, yes? The recommended daily allowance for a girl your age is 2200 calories.”
“That seems very high,” said Meg, who had read that calories should not exceed 1400 for maximum weight loss.
“Not for a teenager. And that should be a diet that includes fruits and vegetables, and also proteins and carbohydrates. If you cut down on snacking, maybe walk up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, little changes like that, you’ll find yourself shedding a few pounds.”
“A few?”
“That’s all you need,” the doctor said. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with today?”
“No.”
“Well then, I must go on to my other patients. Get dressed and check out with the nurse at the desk.” She hurried off.
Meg looked down at her jeans and sighed. The flimsy curtain on her right side shook and pulled away. A girl with long dirty blonde hair and an enormous pregnant belly was lying in bed next to her. She smiled as she pushed the curtain aside. She has the thinnest wrists Meg had ever seen.
“There are other ways to lose weight, you know.” She was rubbing her belly. “She’d tell you, or they’d yank her green card.”
“Like what?” Meg said, thinking of what she had read in her beauty magazines. “Calorie restriction? What else can you do?”
“Don’t eat.” The girl shrugged. Her belly looked so out of place with her thin arms and spindly legs, almost like she had stuffed a beach ball under her thin sweater. “You don’t miss it, after a while. Or you could, you know…” She stuck a finger down her throat and winked.
“I could never do that,” Meg said, thinking how she hated being sick. How gross she always felt after puking. She put on her coat and got up to leave. The visit had been an enormous waste of time.
“It’s so easy. Everyone does it. I bet even that doctor does it,” the girl said, nodding to the other side of the room, where the doctor was bent over a little boy, listening to his breathing with her stethoscope. “Did you see her ass?”