Triptych

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

John waited all night for Mary Alice to show at the party, smoking enough pot to make his lungs ache in his chest. Woody kept catching his eye, giving him the thumbs-up like he was cheering him on. John could have kicked himself for telling his cousin that he’d invited a girl to the party. It was bad enough Mary Alice wasn’t here, but looking like an idiot in front of Woody made it a million times worse.

John had already given up hope when around midnight, she walked through the front door. The first thing he noticed was how out of place she looked in her freshly ironed Jordache jeans and high-collared white shirt. She looked beautiful, but everybody else was dressed in varying degrees of black: filthy jeans, stained heavy metal T-shirts, greasy hair.

She was about to turn right around and leave when he grabbed her arm.

“Hey!” She sounded surprised and giddy and wary all rolled into one.

“You look nice,” he told her, raising his voice over Poison blaring from the stereo.

“I should go,” she said, but she didn’t make to leave.

“Come have something to drink.”

He could see her thinking it out, wondering what he meant by drink, wondering if she should trust him.

“Woody has soft drinks in the kitchen,” he said, thinking he’d never used the words “soft drink” in his life. “Let’s go.”

She still hesitated, but when John stepped aside so he could walk behind her to the kitchen, blocking her exit, she finally relented.

He saw Woody as they passed the stairs. His cousin was leaning against the banister, his pupils blown, a lazy smile on his face. One of the girls from the only black family in the neighborhood was stuck to him like Velcro, her arms wrapped around his neck, leg snaked around his. They kissed long and deep while John watched. She was gorgeous, with creamy dark skin and exotically braided hair. Leave it to Woody to score with the best-looking girl at the party.

He gave John the thumbs-up again, but this time he wasn’t smiling.

The kitchen was filled with smoke and Mary Alice coughed, waving her hand in front of her face. In the corner, a couple was making out, and John found himself stopping to stare because the guy had his hand right down the front of the girl’s jeans.

“Cool party,” another guy said, bumping into John. His drink spilled over John’s hand, and he apologized, passing John the half-full plastic cup as a peace offering. John had already had more than enough alcohol that night, but he took a large gulp from the cup, the liquid burning his throat as it went down.

When John looked around for Mary Alice, she was already heading out the back door.

“Hey,” John said, chasing after her.

She stood by a tall oak, looking up at the stars. Her hair was messed up and she looked nervous. Maybe he could hold her hand. Maybe he could kiss her.

She laughed for no reason. “I couldn’t breathe in there.”

“Sorry.”

She saw the cup in his hand. “Give me that.”

“I don’t know what’s in it,” he said. “You’d better not.”

“You’re not my father,” she said, taking the drink from him. She kept her eyes on his as she took a healthy swallow of the dark liquid. “Tastes like Coke and something else.”

He hoped to God it wasn’t something else. Woody was nineteen years old and all of his buddies were a couple of years older than that. Some of them were into hard drugs, stuff John didn’t even want to know about. There was no telling what was floating around.

John said, “Sorry about this. I didn’t think it would be that wild here.”

She took another swig from the cup and gave him a sloppy smile. God, she was so pretty. He had been hating her so long that he’d forgotten she was gorgeous.

She lifted the cup again and he stopped her. “You’re going to get sick.” He was actually thinking that even if she puked, he would still kiss her.

“Are you stoned?”

“No,” he lied. He was so nervous he would have smoked a goat’s ass if he thought it’d help calm him down.

She took another swallow and he didn’t try to stop her. “I want to get stoned.”

He would have been less shocked if she’d said she wanted to fly to the moon. “Mary Alice, come on. Take it easy on that stuff. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

“It’s good enough for you,” she said, draining the cup. She turned it upside down to show him it was empty. “I want another one.”

“Let’s just stay out here for a while.”

“Why?” she asked. She was swaying a little and he reached out to steady her. “I thought you hated me.”

He could smell her perfume and the hairspray in her hair. Her skin felt hot under his hand. He could hold her, just pull her into his arms and hold her all night. “I don’t hate you.”

“You say nasty things to me all the time.”

“I don’t,” he said with such conviction that he almost believed himself.

She pulled away from him. “My parents think I’m at home.”

“Mine, too.”

“Did you get suspended from school?” No.

“They should suspend you,” she said. “My dad says you’re a total loser.

“Yeah,” he said, wishing she hadn’t finished the drink. “My dad, too.”

She said, “He moved out of the house tonight.”

“Your dad?”

“He just packed his bags and left while I was at the mall. My mom said he was moving in with that woman from work.” She hiccupped softly. “She wouldn’t stop crying.”

Mary Alice was crying, too, but he was still at a loss as to how to comfort her. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“I called him at the number he left,” she told John. “Some girl answered.”

John’s tongue wouldn’t move in his mouth. What should he say?

“He said he’d see me on the weekends. He says Mindy will take me shopping.”

John repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“Why do you hang around with that jerk?” Mary Alice asked.

“Who?” John turned around, following her gaze to Woody. His cousin practically fell off the back stairs as he walked toward them. He laughed at his lack of coordination, so John laughed, too.

“Wet your whistle,” Woody said, handing John another drink.

John took a sip, trying to pace himself because his head was already swimming.

“Hey, girlie,” Woody said, leaning against John as he stared at Mary Alice. “What took you so long? I was beginning to think my cousin here made you up.”

John started to make introductions, but something stopped him. He didn’t like the way Woody was looking at her, the open lust in his eyes. The guy already had Alicia back in the house ready to do whatever he wanted and now he was going after Mary Alice. It wasn’t fair.

“We were just going,” John said, taking Mary Alice’s hand as if she belonged to him.

“So soon?” Woody asked, and John realized he was blocking their way. “Come on back inside with your old cousin Wood. I got something for you.”

“I don’t think so.” John threw the empty cup into the yard. “I should take her home. Her mom will be looking for her.”

“Just a little hit,” Woody insisted. “Or another, I guess I should say.” He winked at Mary Alice. “Think you can handle a drink, sweetheart? Might help dry those pretty blue eyes of yours.”

Mary Alice looked odd. She was smiling, almost flirting. “I wasn’t crying.”

“Sure, babydoll.”

“Woody,” John began, but Woody put his hand over John’s mouth to stop him, telling Mary Alice, “This one likes to talk too much.”

She laughed, and John felt his anger spark up. She was laughing with Woody. She was laughing at him.

Woody asked, “You think you can handle a little drink, little girl?”

Her lips went into this sexy kind of half-smile. “I can handle it.”

“Mary Alice,” John said.

Woody had taken away his hand and wrapped his arm around Mary Alice’s shoulders. He licked his lips as he looked down her shirt, telling John, “Shut up, Cousin.”

Mary Alice laughed. “Yeah, John, shut up.”

Woody pulled her closer in and she tilted up her head. He kept his eyes locked on John’s as he pressed his open mouth to Mary Alice’s.

She started to kiss him back and John felt like somebody had ripped his heart out of his chest. He stood helpless as Woody’s hand went down Mary Alice’s blouse, cupped her breast like groping her was something he did every day. His mouth got wider against Mary Alices and she jerked away, coming to her senses a second later than she should have.

She yelled, “Stop it!” as she tumbled toward John.

John caught her, holding her up. The button had ripped off her shirt where Woody’s hand had reached inside.

“You’re disgusting,” she told Woody, clasping the blouse closed, tears springing into her eyes.

Woody was smiling. “Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.”

“I can’t believe you,” she cried. “Your tongue is disgusting.”

His smile became more sinister. “Watch it now.”

She curled in closer to John, crying, “Please, take me home.”

John started to lead her away, his eyes on Woody, not liking the way his cousin was staring at them.

“Get back here,” Woody ordered, reaching out for her again.

“Leave her alone!” John yelled, fists clenched. Woody had about a hundred pounds on him but John firmly believed he could and would kick his ass if he so much as touched another hair on Mary Alice’s head.

“Whoa.” Woody held up his hands, taking a step back. “Didn’t know you’d already claimed her, little man. Go on. Take her home to her mommy.”

“Stay away from her,” John warned. “I mean it.”

“No hard feelings,” Woody said, but he was still leering at Mary Alice like a lion who had been denied its prey. “Best man wins.”

“Damn straight.”

“Here,” Woody said, digging into his front pocket. “Parting gift.” He tossed a bag of powder to John. “No hard feelings, right, Cousin?”