Coming to Terms
"Let me be the first to tell you that you look like shit MacGuff."
I blinked as I felt someone jump up onto the bleacher overlooking the empty athletics track. My head snapped the way of the voice and my breath rose frostily in the autumn air. I moaned and wiped away the tear-residue.
"Sheesh Rendazo, go piss on your own patch of turf. This one's taken!" I dismissed him, returning my gaze to the distance. I hugged my hoodie closer around me.
Steve Rendazo only laughed, and like a douche, plonked himself besides me but safely out of punching distance. He fished around in his pocket, procuring a cigarette and lighter.
"What if I want to piss on this turf?" He mumbled whilst lighting the cigarette and taking a drag.
"Then you better watch out, Fag-Boy, 'cos Mama Lion might just make sure you never get a hard-on ever again."
"Damn, sounds sexy." He exhaled and flashed me a smile.
I slid my eyes towards him suspiciously and hunched further into my hoodie. My fingernails flaked off the peeling bleacher paint.
"What're you doin' out here anyway, MacGuff? Aren't you missing precious buddy-buddy time with Beaker-Boy?"
"Why don't you just shut your gob, Rent-a-Tumor and go torment someone else?"
"God…you're not preggers again, MacGuff?" Steve snorted with laughter, his blue-green eyes sparkling.
"No!" I spat with disgust and glared at him.
Rendazo shrugged, almost as if it were a shame. Cue the inferno of infuriation.
"Damn. I thought you were going all hormonal and stuff."
"You didn't exactly make my first pregnancy a walk in the park, so I don't want to know what you'd do if I was again." I muttered bitterly and gnawed at my lower lip.
Rendazo laughed. He rubbed at his stubble and leaned forwards.
"Hey, it wasn't my idea. The guys put me up to it. I still thought you were cute even when you gained, like, a hundred pounds of kid-fat."
I gave him a repulsed look. The jock was admitting that he was into me? Has the sky turned yellow? Is it raining frogs? Is the apocalypse a-coming?
"Why don't you just…go bang a cheerleader or something?" I found myself exclaiming as I hopped down the bleachers and trudged off. Only his laughter followed me.
Fumbling around in my locker, I yanked out my books and slammed the door shut with irritation. Bleeker's wide-eyed expression appeared from behind the locker door. I quirked an eyebrow.
"Walking me to class, good sir?" I offered him my arm but Bleeker remained in traumatized silence. Finally, he spoke.
"Why…" He started and his voice cracked. He swallowed and resumed, "Why were you talking to him?"
His voice wavered more than usual and his brown eyes were searching. He chewed his lip.
"Who?" I reshuffled my books and dropped them in my shoulder bag.
Bleeker scratched the back of his neck, his eyes darting away.
"You…you know who I'm talking about…" My boyfriend insisted quietly, "Rendazo."
I put my hands on my hips.
"Oh. Rendazo was only looking for a cig-friend. And honestly, I think I'd rather get run over by six varieties of truck before I die of passive smoking. It's a stupid way to die." I remarked as I slouched off towards our Spanish class.
"But I saw you two. I mean, I was kind of starting to get worried when you didn't, you know, come back from Cuthbert's office and…well, you know how I get, June-bug, I started to think you choked on Sunny D or that other stuff you like…and well, I went over to the lab window and I saw you. I thought it was kind of weird that you were at the track because you're usually only at the track when the team are doing warm ups and well…we were all in class. And then I saw him and I thought…"
"Bleek," I turned around to my lanky boyfriend and looked him in the eye, "Breathe."
Bleeker swallowed and shut up.
"OK." He squeaked. He was silent for a few seconds as we dodged the swell of the student population before he spoke up again, "But…what were you doing out there anyway, June-bug?"
I sighed and dug my hands into my pockets.
"You know…thinking."
Bleeker was silent for the rest of the day.
"How was school, kiddo?"
Dad's voice floated from somewhere within the bowels of the house as I slogged down the hallway, Sunny D in one hand, licorice rope in the other.
"Mmph." I mumbled, mouth full as I trundled in, throwing myself on the couch and huffing. Dad raised an eyebrow in my direction.
"You're lookin' kind of lugubrious, June-bug."
I swallowed my food and plastered a perplexed expression across my face.
"Since when do you use words like 'lugubrious', Dad?" I quizzed him.
My father gave me a sleuthing little smile and held up the broadsheet he was leaning over.
"It's the word of the day in the paper."
"Lemme guess," I sighed, "Use it three times a day and you'll remember it forever, right? Here's another usage: my cacti are looking kinda lugubrious."
"Gotta take better care of them kid."
"Who cares, I'll get another one in February."
There was a silent pause. Dad returned his gaze to the back page comics and I snapped off a small length of licorice rope.
"Dad…?" I ventured quietly, "Do you think I'm a bad person?"
Dad looked briefly confused and then his expression softened. He sighed.
"Is this about the hamburger, Juno? I know you got attached to it but it's not your fault it's broken-"
"No Dad," I sighed, contemplating whether to laugh, "It's not about the hamburger."
Dad put away the paper and concentrated upon me.
"Is some wingnut giving you a hard time at school? Because you know what I say-"
"Dad, its fine…well…I guess I've just been doing some thinking…"
"Thinking?" My father repeated, scratching his chin. I chuckled.
"Yeah, I can think, remember?" I drawled sarcastically
"Wouldn't have guessed," Dad caught onto my humor, "I always thought you were a one-celled amoeba…and a damn smart one at that."
I smiled ruefully and started picking at my nails. Bren hates it when I do that.
"Yeah…sometimes I wonder about the smart bit." I mused quietly.
Dad scooted over onto the couch to join me.
"Is this something we should be talking about with Bren in the room? Because you're old Pop can get a little muddle-headed at times…"
"No Dad, I just want you this time. Just hear me out, OK?"
"OK kiddo. Shoot."
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I closed it, shifted and sighed. Lurching off the couch, I started to pace, wringing my hands as I tried to find the best way to vocalize my thoughts. My eyes flickered back to Dad. He followed my pacing form like a game of ping-pong. And he was looking kind of pale…
"June-bug…" His voice cracked, "You're not…"
My eyes widened as I caught onto his suspicions. I held up my hands and shook my head furiously.
"No! God no! It's OK Dad; I'm not up the spout again."
Dad let out a gush of air in relief.
"For a moment there you had me scared, June-bug. Last time you did that pacing business…well…you're definitely not pregnant?"
"Don't' worry, I'm not."
"You haven't been expelled?"
"You'd be notified first."
"There's not a stash of crack underneath your mattress that the county cops are after?"
"Not the last time I checked."
"Then what's eating at you, June-bug?" Dad finally asked.
I moaned and buried my face in my hands, flopping into the nearest wicker chair.
'It's just…I don't know…do you think I'm a bad person?" I repeated.
Dad got that serious look on his face. Like that look he gave Mark and Vanessa when we first met, sussing them out to make sure they weren't of 'crazy wingnut' caliber.
"Iknow you're not a bad person, Juno. You've always been precocious for your age…you sure as hell didn't get that from your old man…and you've got a good, solid head on those shoulders. I trust you June-bug, you're my whiz-kid. You're the smartest MacGuff for generations and you've got a good set of morals underneath all those wise-cracks."
Dad's honesty was starting to make me blush.
"I'll always love you for who you are, kiddo."
I gave him a fleeting smile. Some people might not think my Dad's the sharpest tool in the shed because his life's aspirations have culminated in air-conditioning and heating…but he sure manages to see through all the shit people put up as their defenses.
My heart warmed, I decided to let the difficult words loose.
"I remember when Mom left you kept on telling me how selfish she was and how she didn't care about us…"
The air became thick as soon as my absent mother was mentioned. Mom's name has the ability to turn people off their dinner in this household. She's like the non-existent white elephant in the room.
"You were too young to understand back then, Juno. Some of the stuff I said…"
"Dad, it's OK. It's just…do you think if Patrick ever finds out about me, he'll think the same way?"
There was a pause. Dad let out a sigh from the depths of him and ran his hands down his face.
"Honey, there's a difference between you and your Mom. There always will be. When your mother left you, she was only thinking of herself and that, what's that word you kids use nowadays? Duck-bag?"
"Douche-bag, Dad."
"Yeah…that douche-bag, Dwight. But you, Juno, from the moment you told us you were in one mighty big pickle, I knew you were looking out for that little tike inside of you. You found someone you could trust and who would love that kid and look after him better than you could at the time. You wanted to give that baby the best shot in life possible, even if it meant making one damn hard decision. I bet, June-bug, when that little boy grows up, he'll thank you for it."
"Really?" I whispered, close to tears.
"Really." Dad nodded sagely, "Sure, that Vanessa may have been some Pilates-making, neurotic nut, but when she looked at you, Juno, I knew she would love that kid more than anything in the world. You gave that little sea-monkey a stable home and a loving mom, and you gave Vanessa the most wonderful thing in the world. Those two owe you big-time, honey, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
I felt a single tear leak out of the corner of my eye. Dad put his arm around me and I cuddled into him.
"Thanks Dad." I sniffled.
"No problem, kid." My father's voice gruffed.
We stayed like that for some time. The house was silent except for a muffled Backstreet Boys tune coming from Liberty Bell's toy radio as she practiced her junior dance routine. Bren's ceramic dog clock ticked loudly on the mantelpiece. The tear trickle slowly dried on my cheek. Afternoon turned to dusk, dusk to early evening.
Eventually, I decided to get on with the remainder of the day. Carefully extracting myself from Dad's heavy embrace, father-of-mine snorted and muttered, his head lolling back. Trust him to fall asleep in my hour of need. Stealing out into the hallway, I rummaged for the Previa keys in Bren's Labrador bowl full of odds-and-ends.
"Where're you heading, Juno?" My stepmom's city accent rang out from where she was making another dog collage under her embroidery lamp. Cerberus and Anubis lay snoozing at her heels.
"Just out for a drive. I need to get some air." I announced, jingling the keys and shrugging on my coat.
"OK then sweetie, don't be late, huh?"
"Sure thing, Bren."
Author's Note: Thank you everyone for their wonderful feedback! I'm pretty amazed at the number of reviews this little fiction of mine is getting and I'm touched! I'm seeing 'Juno' again tonight, so I'll probably return freshly inspired and with lightening updates. In the meantime, whilst I'm dutifully typing away...mosey on down to the review button!
Sunday Smile.