Chapter One: Laid Back
I wonder what Shane looks like when she doesn't care who sees her.
Obviously, not just how she is when Carmen is here, but when she isn't trying to be anything for anyone. I think I've seen glimpses of it in the past few nights when I've caught her in the hall on the way to her room or when she's standing at the fridge at 1 AM, drinking a beer and obviously lost in thought. She usually just gives me a half-smile and moves on, not fully meeting my eyes. But it's those times, when she's so obviously vulnerable and most herself, that I want her to look at me.
And even as I think that, I wonder why I want her to see me so much. I'm just Jenny; I'm not anyone special, least of all meritable to Shane McCutcheon's attention. It's just that I've noticed that within the last week, I feel something when I look at her. Nothing too terrifying or passionate like with Tim or Marina, but it's something. And that might be what scares me the most: that I can still feel something after how hard I've tried to repress my emotions after all I've been through.
I look up from typing furiously at my computer- I'd just gotten to the part about the shooting game at the carnival- and look up to see Shane grabbing yet another beer from the fridge. She looks around at me, as if sensing my gaze. "Sorry if I interrupted you, Jenny. How's the story coming?"
I cringe inwardly, wondering how late it must be. Shane looks a bit more disheveled than usual, so it must be pretty late. I look at the clock on the wall. It reads 3 AM.
"It's alright, Shane." God, I hate how timid and quiet my voice can be. I sound like I either haven't talked to a human being in forever, or I'm stuck in some kind of repressive aquarium tank.
She glances at me as she opens the beer bottle with her hand, her slim arms twisting ever so slightly as she strains for just a second with the cap. She has on yet another of her white tanks from her never-ending supply of wifebeaters, and her sweat pants look as though this is the third night she's worn them. Come to think of it, it probably is. Although I wouldn't know- she's been at Carmen's the past two nights, staying just long enough for anyone to consider it a night out, but not long enough for Shane to confess that she slept over at another girl's house.
And as I watch her walk over to my small table and pull up a chair, drinking her beer, I realize two things: that Shane must look the most like herself at 3 AM in the morning when she's driving home from Carmen's house, and that Carmen must have been at our house tonight.
Not that I would have noticed, of course; Shane probably took the liberty of seducing Carmen with only a wall of plaster between my computer and her bedroom, on the off chance that I'd be up all night writing again and wouldn't notice the obscenity of it all. She can be arrogant like that sometimes, and it really pisses me off.
I decide to jump in headfirst. "So, is Carmen-"
Shane cuts me off with a wave of her hand. Her various rings still decorate her fingers. Huh. Maybe she put them on after leaving Carmen alone in her room. "She's sleeping."
"Oh," I say, only because I'm not really sure how to respond to that. That must be why Shane is here and taking the time to talk to me- "interrupting my writer's flow", as she would call it. She's usually pretty respectful about my penchant for writing in the early hours of the morning, and doesn't talk to me if she doesn't have to. I chalk it up to the fact that she's chivalrous, but a small part of me wonders if the only reason she's talking to me now is because she feels awkward about Carmen and wants to postpone waking her up as long as possible.
Great. Not only am I the awkwardly shy roommate she never bargained for, I'm also the convenient third wheel.
I shut my computer suddenly and look at Shane, waiting for a reaction that I know won't come. She's rarely ever surprised by anything I do- and that only makes me want to try harder to get an emotion out of her. She finishes up the last swig of her beer and looks over at me. "Sorry, I'm probably really distracting you. Do you want me to leave, Jenny?"
As she says this, I realize she looks nervous, and I wonder why. Because of Carmen, a small voice whispers in the back of my head. But even as I think that, I'm not quite sure if that's the case. Maybe, just maybe, this is the glimpse of Shane that I've been trying to see for the past week. Maybe this is her at her most vulnerable, and she knows it.
"No." I stare at her eyes, waiting for them to stop looking everywhere else except for my own.
"Okay." She looks surprised, for once. Her eyes catch mine for a split second, and the same butterflies that danced around in my stomach the day I saw her in Bette and Tina's pool come back again with a vengeance. She twists the lid of the beer bottle back on, a nervous habit I've seen her sometimes do while talking to Carmen on the phone.
She suddenly sets the bottle down, and stands up so fast her chair tips back and almost falls over. She puts her hands above her head, as though she just ran a race and is out of breath. "Shit, I can't-"
I stand up almost as fast, although I'm not really sure why. I walk around the table towards her chair just as she starts towards the hall. She puts her hands down by her sides. We stand there for a second, blocking the other's path. Shane stands just a couple of inches taller than me, but that's not why I feel intimidated. Right now, I feel small only because she has this look in her eyes that tells me I'm acting like a child again. I would notice that look anywhere; Tim gave me that look when he left me, and Marina looked at me like that when I lied and said I didn't want to see her ever again. It's the look that has haunted my nightmares for the past two months, the look that makes me feel like I frightened teenager all over again. It's a look that says that I don't know what I'm getting into.
"Jenny." She says it like a command, but I can hear the question underneath it. Rather than backing away, like Tim would have once done, she moves a step closer to me. Close enough that I can see the slight flush of color on her usually nondescript face. She puts her hands up around my shoulders, not quite touching me, as though she's trying to both keep her distance and steady me at the same time.
I don't say anything, because I'm not sure what I want to happen. I feel as though both of us are on the edge of a precipice, and if one of us falls, the other one will have to go down with her. I'm still not sure if I want to be the one to fall first.
The blush that escaped unbidden onto her cheeks for a few seconds is now back in her control, and she's back to being as unreachable as she is during the day. She's back to being as cold and calculating as every one of her exes thinks she is.
"Jen, I - I can't. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry for what?" The unmistakable lilt of Carmen's voice filters into my ears as she walks into the room wearing one of Shane's old concert shirts and blue underwear. Shane whips around as though Carmen caught her doing something worthy of guilt and shame.
Shane backs away from me now, and runs a hand through her short hair. She looks even more lost and confused than when I saw her with Carmen at The Planet, surrounded by her friends.
Carmen walks over to Shane and kisses her, seemingly not noticing my presence yet. Shane pushes her away for a second, but then gives in. I clear my throat softly and can feel an embarrassed smile creep up on my face. I know I must look like an idiot when she finally glances over at me, her hand still behind Shane's neck as though I've embarrassed and interrupted her night. "Oh! You must be Jenny."
She says this like it's a question, but I wonder if she's really all that pleased to see me. As much as I've seen the unmistakable effects of her charm on Shane, I'm still not sure if I like her or not. She seems too nice to be completely genuine.
I must look a bit like a deer in the headlights, because Carmen unhooks her hands from behind Shane's neck and brushes them on her underwear, as if to signal to Shane that they should stop for the moment. Carmen seems to have that girl wrapped around her middle finger, pointing their relationship in everyone's face.
"I'm Carmen."
I want to reply, Everyone knows who you are after you hooked up with Shane, and complete it with an eye roll, but I'm not sure if that would annoy her. I'm already known as the girl who regularly loses her grip on reality and who, after harsh breakups, takes impromptu road trips to get high on mushrooms with strangers. So I keep my thoughts to myself, but I give a small smile and hold out my hand. That is, until I remember what Shane and Carmen must have been doing less than an hour earlier. I put my hand back by my side.
Carmen notices my hesitation and her smile dips for a fraction of a second, so fast that I almost don't catch it. She probably thinks that I don't even notice it, but I've spent so much time practicing people-watching during my time as a cashier that it's almost second nature to me. For example, the fact that Shane's green eyes are staring at me and not Carmen right now means that she surely noticed my embarrassment and is embarrassed for me…
"Well. Ok." Carmen turns back around to face Shane, her face all pretty smiles and coy glances once again. Shane puts her arms on Carmen, much like she did with me only moments earlier. Only this time, Shane is actually touching Carmen.
Shane clears her throat, looking sheepish, which is unusual for her. "I'll be right back. Wait here." She holds up a long finger towards Carmen as she walks backwards to her room, keeping eye contact with Carmen the whole time. Once Shane's out of the kitchen/my writing area, Carmen looks back at me, her eyes hinting that she knows something that I don't know. I'm vaguely reminded of the equally-condescending look Tim loved to give me.
"Jenny… Schecter, right?" She's trying to seem nonchalant, but it sounds like she knew my name and is just trying to make conversation. I wonder if Shane told her about me. I wonder if Shane told her good or bad things.
"Yeah." I smile a little wistfully. For once, Carmen has said the right thing. At least she isn't like my old writing teacher, who would refer to me as Sarah Schuster as though she thought my writing was a joke.
I try to keep the conversation going, and filter out as much of my weird writer's observations- a nervous tic I've been known to do- as I can. "So… Shane's going to let you keep that shirt?"
Carmen looks down at the shirt she's wearing, as if surprised. She probably thought I was going to say she was lucky for being able to seduce Shane McCutcheon, but there was no way in hell I was ever going to say something as forward as that. She laughs, and it sounds almost genuine. Does she think I was making a joke? "I guess we'll have to wait and see, Jenny."
She looks up at me now, that same look in her eyes. I find it odd that she is tacking my name onto every sentence she says. I start to get the feeling that she might be patronizing me. She starts walking towards me, and I almost think she's going to walk past me and follow Shane into her bedroom to steal a last-minute kiss. I'm standing halfway in the foyer, so if she wanted to do anything with Shane in the next few minutes, I would be the awkward, out of place peeping Tom who didn't want to be there anyway. With this thought, I move to the right, to let Carmen pass and to be able to make a quick getaway. I would even spend a half-hour with Mark, our new roommate, discussing documentaries than watch Carmen get it on with Shane.
"What are you doing, Jenny?" She moves with me, blocking my path; or rather, I might be blocking hers now, but I'm not really sure what is going on. Out of habit, I self-consciously try to brush my now-short hair behind my ear. I'm feeling slightly out of place and out of my mind. "Um. I'm… I have to go."
Carmen smiles like she smiled at Shane only moments before. "Don't leave, Jenny."
As she says this, I'm suddenly aware of who her patronizing advances remind me of. I've only known one other woman who would try and coerce me into many things that I wanted to do and a few that I didn't: Marina. Carmen sounds like Marina.
Carmen takes the last few steps to erase the gap between us and, before I can make any move to stop her, kisses me. A shock of red-hot heat rushes up to my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders. I try to push her away, not sure why this is happening or even why I would want it to stop. My hands lightly rest on her shoulders, as though I can't decide whether or not to push her away or bring her closer to me, which reminds me of how Shane acted towards me only minutes before this.
She pulls back, and I take in a quick breath, not saying a word. I don't trust myself to speak yet.
What the hell was that for, I want to ask, but Carmen looks at something behind me, her eyes wide. Before I even turn around, I know it's Shane.