Page 50 of Absorbed

Chapter Fifteen

Stacey laid awake, curled up on the floor, most of the night. Her body felt broken all over, but when she went to the bathroom, she saw she was physically fine.

She heard the front door open and close, followed by the sound of Greg’s truck pulling away. She pretended to be asleep when her mom opened the door to her bedroom, the light from the hallway burning through Stacey’s raw eyelids. She held them closed until the door clicked shut again.

Stacey searched the popcorn ceiling for answers, debating and hating herself.You’re such a slut. No, sex is totally normal. You made the biggest mistake of your life. Maybe it’s not a big deal at all. Don’t freak out…yet.

She considered whether Jessie still liked her, or ever really did. She ran through dozens of things she wanted to say to him, to ask him, and how he might respond.How many people have you slept with? Please say there WAS a condom that I didn’t see?

The green glow of the digital time on her nightstand taunted her. It was too bright. Too offensive as the minutes and hours ticked by. It was the same glow that was in the car, reflecting off Jessie’s stupid puka shell necklace. She unplugged it and threw the clock across the room, into her closet.

“Stacey, it was only sex,”she imagined Jessie saying in his dumb, nothings-that- big-of-a-deal voice. “Chill out.” “I’m SOOO into you!” “Everyone does it.”

She bit her pillow to prevent herself from screaming louder than the voices in her head.

As the first morning light glowed outside her window, Stacey felt mentally, physically, and emotionally wrung dry. It was Saturday. She was due to work the morning shift at the pool at eight.

Up and down the street neighbors began mowing lawns as soon as the sun rose, before the heat of the day settled in. The rev of a John Deere motor next door startled her. Stacey didn’t think she’d slept at all.She gnawed the nail of her right middle finger until she heard her mom’s bedroom door squeak open, followed by the thunk of the front door. Once the minivan puttered away, Stacey untangled herself from her bedspread.

After letting Murphy out, she took several long slow gulps of water from the kitchen faucet, then looked up at the time on the microwave, considering whether it was too late to call in sick. She had thirty minutes to be at the pool and couldn’t even muster the energy to come up with a good lie.

She glared at her painting of the aurora borealis on the fridge. Every hope she’d had for her date with Jessie, the magic of wishing on shooting stars with him by her side, felt bogus. Like seeing something so beautiful and magical as the northern lights would ever be possible for her, either. She pulled the watercolor off the fridge and ripped it in half, dropping the two pieces on the Formica countertop, and dragged herself to the bathroom.

She stared for a full minute at her red-rimmed, puffy eyes and swollen, pink nose. Her tank top was stretched, and her right bra strap had slid down her shoulder. Purple pools hung beneath her eyes. Her cheeks and brows were stained with mascara. Looking at her reflection brought on another wave of disgust. She splashed cold water on her cheeks, trying not to look at the mirror, and noticed her good red swimsuit from The Outlet in a damp heap in the shower.

Back in her bedroom, she yanked off her clothes and kicked the pile under her bed. She pulled on the ugly, granny-panty red suit, covering it with the Nirvana T-shirt and boxers that she’d worn for dinner. She slipped into her Birkenstocks and grabbed her keys.

Mark was unlocking the pool’s entrance at 8:03 when the Silver Bullet’s tires screeched into a front space in the parking lot. Stacey didn’t stop fast enough, and her front right tire went up and over the parking block.

“Goddammit!” Stacey hit the steering wheel.

As she reversed, she scraped the underside of her car, and the bumper thumped one final time before she pulled the parking brake.

Mark and Tiffany surveilled the scene, Tiffany covering her mouth with both hands. Mark left the keys hanging in the lock and offered Stacey an amused golf clap.

Stacey turned off the ignition and leaned her head back.

Chad eased out of his blue Chevelle next to her, checking the side of his own vehicle before he leaned down to look under the front of her car. He knocked on Stacey’s passenger window, and raised his eyebrows at her. “You okay?” he asked.

Stacey nodded. At least Bob wasn’t there to punish her for being late. With this crew, she had a narrow possibility of actually making it through her shift.

Stacey began to reach for the CD case, then remembered it was Jessie who had left it on the floor. The Chris Isaak disc would be in there. And the Fugees. Along with every CD she’d played the past month to impress Jessie. Leaving the case where it was, she locked her car. She wouldn’t be the pool’s disc jockey.Not today.

Inside the main office, Mark sat at the desk rubbing his face and yawning like a yeti. When his glazed eyes caught Stacey’s, she thought he looked like she felt.

“Have a rough night, Chapman? Party too hard?” Mark asked.

Stacey blinked slowly at him, but didn’t respond.

“Interesting…” Mark said.

“Believe whatever the hell you want.”Stacey threw open the door of her locker, and tossed her keys and towel inside. Her sunscreen toppled over, clanging against her whistle. She turned to Tiffany. “Need me to clean the girls’ bathroom?”

“You sure? Only if you want to.” Tiffany’s voice tinkled like a xylophone. “Or I can. Whatever’s best for you. I don’t mind.”

Stacey resented Tiffany’s smile. It was too big. Too happy. Stacey peered into her locker for nothing more than an excuse to turn away. “It’s fine,” she mumbled, kicking off her Birkenstocks and stepping into her flip-flops. “I got it.”

Tiffany followed her out the door, gently touching her elbow once they were outside. “Stacey,” she said quietly. “Is everything okay?”

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