How to Be Brave (10 page)

“I feel worse than that time we got those two Party Packs from Taco Bell.” Liss laughs and holds her stomach. “I thought I felt sick then.”

“You were high,” Evelyn says. “You couldn't feel anything.”

“You're probably right.” Liss laughs. “That was some good shit that day.”

“Shut up, you guys!” I look over at my dad, and he smiles at me. He likes it when I bring my friends to the restaurant. He thinks it means he doesn't have to worry about me, that someone's taking care of me. If only he knew.

He walks over to our table, grabs a clean spoon from a nearby table, and takes a bite of some melting ice-cream salad. “Ah, girls! How delicious! You are all chefs of the very finest quality,” he says. “I will hire you tomorrow!”

Liss and Evelyn giggle, smitten by my father's Greek accent.

“So, tell me some news.”

“Mr. Askeridis”—Liss leans toward my dad—“how did you and Georgia's mom fall in love? Did you go after her or did she go after you?” She places her chin in her hands like she's five. “Was there passion from the very start?”

I snap a dirty glance at Liss. What is she doing? We don't ask my dad these types of questions. We do not discuss love or dates or anything involving passion. These words do not exist in my father's world.

I want to kill her.

“Well, you know…” My dad motions for Liss to move over so he can sit down next to her. “It was like this: It was a blind date. When we met, Diana thought I was too old for her. And I probably was. But, I guess, now that I think about it, I liked her from the very first night. I was working in a grocery store at that time, and we learned this: That she grew up in a grocery store. That's when we knew that age didn't matter. So what I'm saying is, I guess that's when I started.”

Liss is stunned into silence, as am I. That's the most I've ever heard my dad say about my mom ever. Not even at the funeral did he talk about her or say much of anything at all.

I can see small tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, but he blinks to hold them back. “Anyway, girls,” my dad continues, his voice a bit hoarse now, “why do you ask? What is this about love? You are too young, I think, maybe, to be asking these questions.”

“Certainly not, Mr. Askeridis. We'll be able to vote next year,” Liss says. “Soon after is love, marriage, and babies in a carriage!”

I shoot Liss a dirty look. Way to make my already depressed father more neurotic.

“Be careful, girls.
Pnigese s'ena koutali nero,
” my dad says, looking straight at me, as though I know what he's saying. I shake my head, and he translates: “If you're not careful, you'll drown in a spoon of water.”

“What the fu—” Evelyn catches herself, thank God. “I mean, like, what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It means this, my friend: You make life too complicated, and you'll have nothing but regret. See what you have now, right in front of you. It's all here. Your friends. Ice cream. Hot fudge. You know, just enjoy it. You do not know when it will be gone.”

He pats my head gently and then goes back to the register.

“Well, that was uplifting,” Evelyn mumbles.

“Sorry about my dad,” I say. “He's Greek and likes to get philosophical.”

She stares at her half-chewed cherry stem. She's turned serious again. She's far away. “You okay, Evelyn?”

Evelyn doesn't say anything, and I don't push it.

I feel it, too, the weight of my dad's words. The reality of a spoon of water.

Liss catches my eye and smiles, a sad, knowing smile. She understands how much is gone. How much we all miss my mom. How she would have had a different story about how they met. How she would have wanted to know everything about me and Daniel Antell at the locker, about how he looked and what I said. How she would have had my back.

I miss her,
Liss mouths to me silently.

I miss her, too.

*   *   *

This is what it was like sometimes:

Me, in the backseat of the old gray Buick,

the Indiana skies blue and bright and filled with clouds.

My parents, up front, laughing—

about what I don't remember.

(I wish I could remember.)

Us, on our way to the farm

to dig our hands into brown American soil

that was not the same as the red Greek soil

that my dad described at length,

repeatedly.

We were on our way to dig up the radishes

and pull at the tomatoes

and bite into the apples

that grew on the family farm

that was built on land

that would never belong to us.

But we were there

on a quiet Sunday morning,

the highway long and clear and ours.

My parents, in love.

Me, safe.

We were there, the three of us,

the hot summer sun,

moving on the earth

together.

*   *   *

Evelyn heads home since her mom's in town for four days straight and is expecting her. (“I hope she doesn't make me pee in that fucking cup again. She's going to be quite disappointed after all that Betty Crocker.”) Liss comes back to our apartment with my dad and me to spend the night.

My dad takes a shower and falls asleep on the couch,
Saturday Night Live
droning on the TV, while Liss and I stay up rereading old copies of
Rolling Stone
and
Vogue
and doing our nails on my bed.

“I could really use a smoke.” Liss has taken to Evelyn's cloves. I still can't quite stand them. Every time I try to inhale, I feel like I'm going to blow out a lung.

“Let's see…” Liss files through my collection of old CDs. “Etta James, Coltrane, the divine Mr. Ray Charles…” All of these belonged to my mom. After she died, I took all of her CDs from the living room, along with her old stereo system. Liss continues to browse through the box until she finds one and holds it up.
The Blues
. “This one?”

I nod, so Liss puts it in the stereo and presses play. “What a voice. Your mom knew how to listen to music.”

She did. This one in particular was one of my mom's favorites. It's weird, hearing Nina Simone's raspy old voice without also hearing my mom's humming along with it.

“Is this okay?” Liss asks.

“Yeah, of course. I like hearing it.” And I do.

Liss folds open one of the
Vogue
s to this somewhat complicated design; it's a reverse French manicure—white polish below, black tips all around. “Want this? I think I could do it for you.”

“Sure,” I say. Liss is really good at doing hair and nails and makeup. She has this great way of being sort of messy and absolutely stylish all at the same time. She keeps me in check.

“Too bad Daniel won't be in town, though, to see you all vamped up with these sexy nails.”

“I know, right?” I spread my fingers out on a towel on the bed, though I'm not sure he'd really care. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to notice a girl's nails.

Liss bobs her head along with the music, but she's still able to apply polish on my fingers perfectly. I don't know how she does it. It takes a lot of concentration and effort, yet she makes my fingers look exactly like the magazine. It's like a professional is doing it for me. “This is going to look so freakin' chic.”

“That looks amazing. I'm never going to make your nails look as good.” I can sketch and shade and play with color and light, but this kind of close design on a small canvas requires a kind of patience that I just don't have.

“Eh, I don't care.” Liss shrugs and pulls out the topcoat. “You can just paint them blue with a green stripe or something. I'll be happy with whatever.”

She finishes up and waves a half-folded
Rolling Stone
over my fingers to help them dry. “Hey…” She lowers her voice. “So I'm glad Evelyn couldn't come over tonight.”

“Really? Why's that? Sick of hearing about sex and drugs and all of her wondrous escapades?” This comes out a little more sarcastically than I intended. I quickly feel guilty bad-mouthing Evelyn, but then again, we've known her only a few months. And I've also come to discover that I really can take only so much of her, though I haven't hinted at anything to Liss until just now.

“Yeah, well, kind of. I mean, she's fun in small doses. But there's something else—something I wanted to tell you about.” Liss is good at not feeding into my negativity. “And I'm only sharing these dirty details with
you
and no one else.…” She gives me a sly smile. “But, um, I think I'm going to do it with Gregg.”

“Holy shit! Really?” I jump on my knees to give her a hug. “That's crazy big news!”

“Careful!” She nudges me back on the bed. “You'll mess up all my hard work!”

I lean over and turn up the stereo so that Nina Simone can help drown out any possibility of my dad hearing any of this.

“You're such a dork. Your dad can't hear us. He's asleep on the couch.”

I ignore her snide comment about my paranoia and redirect her instead to the important information: “So wait, when? And where?” Of course, I whisper this.

“Well, I'm not exactly sure yet.” Liss turns bright red. “The thing is, I know I'm ready, and Gregg, he doesn't want to wait, you know? He doesn't see the point—”

“Wait, what? Are you sure you're ready for this?”

“Yes,” Liss insists. “
Yes
. I am. For sure.” She's got that look on her face, the one that sees only the best possible outcome. All I can see are acronyms from freshman-year health class: STD, HIV, OB/GYN.

“What's the big rush, though?” I shake my head. “I mean, why all the pressure to have s-e-x with him?” I whisper-spell the word.

“Georgia, you're paranoid. Your dad really can't hear anything. Plus even if he could, he knows how to spell.”

“I know. But just tell me. And how do you expect to make this happen? I mean, where?”

“Well, here's the thing.” Liss has now taken out the blue polish and is applying it on her own fingers. She knows better than to trust me. “There's this party—it's the weekend after Thanksgiving break—over at Chloe's house.”

“Chloe? Chloe Hollins? The one whose cousin took my spot on the cheer squad?”

“Yes. Now, don't get all judgy and upset.” Her fingers are only halfway done, but she twists the polish closed and places it on the side table so she can look at me. “Remember I told you that Gregg lives down the street from them? Chloe and Avery are hosting a big party that weekend. Her parents are going to be in Cabo or something. And it's invitation only. And because Chloe knows Gregg, he's invited, and so am I.”

My heart shrivels inside my chest and drops into my abdominal wall. “But I'm not.” I lean back against the wall. I want to melt into it. She's deserting me for the richy-bitchies.

“Okay…” Liss leans toward me and takes my wrists in her hands. “Here's the thing. I told him I am not—I repeat, am
not
—going to go unless you're invited too. I don't leave No-Woman's-Land without you.”

“Thanks,” I say. “But you don't have to. I get it. Gregg's your guy. I'd just be a third wheel.” And surrounded by a bunch of superficial jerks.

“No. Absolutely not. You are going to be there because Gregg's your friend too.” Liss says this as though it's true, but the fact is, besides sitting with them under a tree on the quad while they suck face at lunch, I've never really talked to him. She spends a lot of Saturdays with him after soccer practice while I'm at the restaurant helping my dad. “And you're my friend, and that's all that matters, okay?”

I nod, and I believe her, though my heart is still lodged somewhere near my appendix. I want to be happy for Liss, but it's hard when she spends all her time with Gregg.

And then I realize, she still hasn't told me how this all connects to her having sex. “Wait, so are you going to do it at the party?”

Liss leans back and smiles. “No! Ew! That would be gross and unladylike. However, it just so happens Gregg's parents are also going to be out of town—a conference or something—that very same weekend. And so, we'll have the entire house to ourselves, including,
ahem,
his bedroom.”

“And so, you're going to leave me alone at a frat party with Chloe Hollins and Avery Trenholm so you can go canoodle with Gregg at his place?”

“Canoodle? What are you, eighty?” Liss teases. She grabs the bottle of polish to finish her nails. “And, well, yes, I guess. But maybe Daniel will be there.…”

“Really? Do you think so? But why would he? He doesn't hang around Chloe and Avery at all.”

“No. But he knows Gregg.
And,
he and I have been chatting a bit at the Belize meetings, so I could probably get him in too.”

“Wait, what? He's going to Belize too?”

“Yeah, didn't you know? He wants to major in bioengineering, I guess. Champaign is his top choice.”

Huh. So this is very good news. Liss and I are both applying to the University of Illinois Urbana–Champaign, which is only two hours south of Chicago—far enough to be away from home, close enough to be not too far away from home. Liss says she wants to major in biology or something like that (though she should study fashion—she's that good), and I wrote “Undeclared—Liberal Arts” as my prospective major. My dad doesn't even know that I'm applying to Champaign, but I'll tell him about it in the spring, if/when I get in. So far, he hasn't really even mentioned college. I think he assumes that I'm going to go to Chicago City College, where my mom taught, before I transfer to a university. I don't have the heart to break it to him yet. That can wait until spring.