The ridiculously close call with Sean left me feeling uneasy, and the next day I found myself trying as hard as I could to avoid both Sean and Ellie. I sulked around in my room all day, burning through cigarettes and reading old copies of Rolling Stone. I thought I could pull off not talking to them at all before the time came for me to do my night shift, but this plan was spoiled by a knocking at my door.
"Tracker, could you come out for a sec?" asked Ellie. "We need you to take a few pictures."
With the heaviest of sighs, I tossed aside my magazine and went to the door. I reluctantly pulled it open and looked at Ellie, who caused my breath to catch for just a moment. It was bizarre, seeing her stand there in a silky white dress, hair pulled out of her face for once, dolled up all gorgeous and almost resembling a normal girl. I couldn't help but smile, however, at the lacy white arm socks and clunky bracelets that interrupted the elegant prom look.
"Nice touch," I said, stroking her wrist.
She shrugged and smiled dryly. "Got to retain my individuality, don't I?"
"Retain your secrecy, anyway." Unique fashion statement, my ass. Ellie had scars, and no matter how brave she tried to act, I knew she had to keep them hidden.
Her eyes met mine. She said nothing. I took the disposable camera from her hands and followed her into the living room.
What I saw next nearly brought tears to my eyes. That's how hard I was laughing.
"Tracker, shut up," said Sean, looking thoroughly embarrassed and uncomfortable in his tuxedo.
Ellie rolled her eyes at both of us and slipped into place at Sean's side. "Come on, let's just snap a few pictures, okay? And no more complaints-- from either of you."
With a vague grumble, Sean hooked his arm through Ellie's and posed for a picture as I brought the camera to my face. It was all too hilarious, really. Sean, my big bad gangsta brother, the kid who was perpetually dressed in the same beanie, wife beater, and unwashed gray hoodie, always carrying his headphones, scowl, and signature trail of white trash drama, was standing there in the cleanest, neatest tux you've ever seen, trying his damnedest to curl his lips into something even remotely resembling a smile. And Ellie, god, dressed up and looking so amazing, was there beside him, pearly white teeth shining for the camera as she posed and pretended like she wasn't the most fucked up girl on the face of the planet. I stifled my laughter as best as I could and captured a few Kodak moments.
Ellie retrieved her camera and thanked me, and soon she and Sean had scurried out the door. Going to prom, as if they were an ordinary teenage couple or something. As if there was nothing fucked up about their lives, about our lives, at all. We were fucking kidding ourselves. And I was the biggest fool of them all, because I was supposedly the only one old and wise enough to know better.
While my brother and his girlfriend relished in the cheesy and simple joys of high school, I was stuck behind the counter in my orange apron with Sir Dumbfuck himself, ringing up over-priced gasoline and Gatorade and Ho-Hos and counting off each tedious hour. I tried not to think about them, because I knew they sure as hell weren't thinking about me. But as hard as I tried, I couldn't erase those flashes of red hair, those scarred arms, and those complicated and ungodly post-sex conversations from my mind.
"Check it out, man, there's your woman," Clint snickered, pointing in the direction of the customer who had just walked in.
I'd been so lost in my thoughts that when I lifted my head, I half-expected to see Ellie. I then laughed internally at myself, realizing what a ridiculous assumption that was. Instead of the pale, disturbed, unusual teenage girl that plagued my thoughts and my life, I saw a tall, shapely woman snaking through the aisles, gazing at rows of chips and sodas and acting completely oblivious to my existence. Her jeans were tight and ripped in ever-so-strategic places, and her raw brown hair cascaded freely over her bare olive shoulders, blocking her face from view. It didn't matter. I would recognize that swagger anywhere.
Charli.
That's the thing about living and working in the same god damn neighborhood where you went to high school: you're bound to run into people you've got history with. And boy did Charli and I have history. We started dating a decade ago, when we were freshman, a pair of idiot fourteen year olds with raging hormones. It was your typical recipe for adolescent disaster. I was the bad boy, the hot shot trouble maker, and she was the gorgeous popular girl who was just itching to break that perfect reputation and get into some trouble. Her friends and parents hated me, and that just pushed us even closer together. I don't care what anyone says, no matter who your first is, you've got a connection with them, whether you asked for it or not. We might have even been stupid enough to think we were in love. Our relationship was always heavy, always filled with raunchy drama. We stayed together all the way through our sophomore year, when I ditched my drunken parents and eventually dropped out of school. For me, that was a hard time, but for Charli it was field day; she ate up all the drama like it was candy. We lasted a few months longer, but eventually the usual teenage bull shit got in our way, and we broke up.
In the scheme of things, it wasn't a big deal, just one of those high school things. Neither of us dwelled. Dozens of girls came after Charli, and I'm sure the same could be said vice versa. We grew up. We grew apart. We moved on. It was a million years ago. Nonetheles, Charli did still own part of me. She had my virginity and two and a half years of my life, not to mention my Harley Davidson lighter. That's not shit you can let go of easily. So yeah, when she had started making these random pit stops at the convenient store, I admit I felt a little... curious. Interested. Unsettled.
"She wants you, man," Clint whispered, giggling and hissing in my ear. We were both leaning on the counter, trying not to make it obvious that we were staring profusely as Charli skimmed the refridgerated section.
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, no, I think she wants a Dr. Pepper, actually," I replied with my usual nonchalance.
Clint just laughed. "Pshh, whatever. Girl like that doesn't just happen to get thirsty when it just happens to be your shift. She ain't in here for soda pop, she's in here shopping for some ass, man."
I rubbed my temples, fighting the urge to slap my own best friend in the face. "Grow up, Clint. No, really. Do the world a god damn favor."
Clint laughed and ignored my opinion, as always. "Look, man, you remember that dickhead Matt Oleander? He went to our high school." I nodded vaguely, trying not to act interested, even though deep down, I wanted to know. Insanely so. "Okay well, he and Charli have been shacking up for the past few months, but like, just last month, they got into this huge-ass fight at Barcraft." He paused, taking a moment to let a sleezy grin spread over his face. "So now hot stuff over there is on the rebound, and if you asked me, she's looking to return to her roots and score some of that Cameron lovin'..."
Charli grabbed a Dr. Pepper out of the refridgerator and turned towards the counter, catching my eye and smiling slightly at me. I quickly elbowed Clint in the stomach to get him to shut his mouth, and tried to act as uninterested as possible as Charli plopped down her soda and leaned flirtateously against the counter.
"Tracker," she said, smiling warmly. As she leaned closer to me I could see the wooden pendant on an orange-beaded chain that fell into the nook of her cleavage. "How's it going, man?"
I took the ice cold soda bottle and slid it slowly towards the price scanner. I met her eyes, exotic and playful, and was flooded with memories of kissing her. "Oh, you know," I said, babbling nonsense to buy myself more time to just look at her. "Working hard. Supplying the masses with Slurpees and Slim Jims into the ungodly hours of the night." The red lines of light hit the barcode on the cold bottle and the cash register beeped. "That'll be $1.75."
She smiled, and I was moved by forces beyond on my control to smile back. She was mother fucking sexy. "You're so noble. I admire a man who follows his calling in life."
Aw. Wasn't it cute the way she could insult me and hit on me at the same time? Another example of the sad, sorry life I lead. "Yeah, well. I do what I can. What about you? What are you doing these days?" Super model, perhaps? Fourteenth street hooker?
She ran her fingers through her thick brown hair as if it were a casual habit, and tilted her head slightly to the left in a conversational way. "I've been doing some freelance photography on and off for a few years, but I actually just got a really good offer from an art magazine. I'm heading for New York in two weeks for my first assignment. I'll be living there for five months. I might even stay for good, if I dig the scene. I'm ecstatic."
Naturally. She'd finished high school, gone to college, experienced life outside Toronto. Of course she was doing glamorous, grown-up things and living a glamorous, grown-up life. And I was stuck behind the counter. Stuck in the middle of nothing. "Sounds groovy. You're really doing stuff with yourself, eh?"
She glowed with a tinge of pride and nodded. "I guess so. This opportunity has actually been looming around for the past few months but it wasn't until recently that I was able to take it. I just got out of a relationship that was... well, less than fulfilling. It was messy but... it was all for the better. He's moving on with his life, and I'm obviously moving on with mine." She had taken the plastic pop bottle in her hand and was slowly drawing circles in the condensation with her index finger. Every subtle movement of her body was meant to reel me in. And it was working.
"That's the way the wind blows sometimes."
"Yeah, guess so." We both nodded, and smiled, and soon found ourselves coughing in an awkward lull. She at last took the plunge and jumped forward with a nessecary but uncomfortable question. "So... what about you, then? Any current relationships to speak of?"
I could have laughed out loud if it weren't for my self-control. What was there to say about my relationship status? How could one possibly conceive of putting it into words? Sure, Charli. I'm fucking a sixteen-year old. A neurotic, immature, self-abusive, emotionally-unstable, whiney, annoying little girl who was currently partying it up kiddie style at Prom with my little brother. The idiocy and patheticness of my situation suddenly became glaringly obvious in that moment. Standing there with Charli, who'd been just as careless and worthless a kid as I had, and seeing how she'd made something infitintely more meaningful with her life that I had, I realized what a loser I really was.
"No," I answered, feeling deflated. "Not really involved with anyone right now."
She smiled and shrugged as she reached into her purse. "Ah. Well. Sometimes life is easier without strings, eh?" She placed two dollar bills and a piece of paper on the counter. She took a pen and started scribbling numbers onto the scrap of paper. "Give me a call sometime in the next two weeks. We could do some catching up before I leave, 'kay?" She gave me a meaningful stare. "I'd really hate it if I didn't get to see you again before I left. You're still really important to me, Tracker. You know that?" The seductive smile she wore so well faded for a moment, and I could see the honest expression of the young girl that had once been my whole universe. She gave Clint and I a little wave before strutting away, Dr. Pepper in hand.
Clint and I watched her go with synchronized head turns and jaws barbarically hanging wide open. Clint slapped me playfully on the shoulder, far more excited about that entire conversation than I was. "Dude!" he said, tugging at his unruly brown hair and pushing it out of his face. He snatched Charli's phone number from my hand and stroked it lovingly, bringing it to his nose and sniffing it dramatically. "Were you watching that? Do you know what this is? This is a Free Booty Call card. She's practically begging you to sweep her off her hot ass." His face suddenly recoiled in disgust and his cheerful mood vanished immediately. He flicked the tiny piece of paper in my face. "I hate you, man. Really. You suck."
I laughed emptily. "Yeah, well, you know..." I tried to pretend as though I was enticed by this offer, but I was too distracted to play along. I found myself unable to wrap my brain around the situation. Could I honest to God pick up the phone and call her, after all these years, after all the mountains of fucked up shit I'd been dealt in recent months? Was I even capable of having a conversation with a real woman after all this time of sulking in post-divorce gloom? I'd spent so much time with my two hopeless teenage charges and my douchebag best friends that I'd almost forgotten there was a normal and interesting world out there. I scared myself with how bad I suddenly wanted it. I knew I was being over-ambitious, but a little part of me was praying to God Charli would be the one to take me out of this fucking place.
By 6:00 am my eyelids were getting heavy, and the arrival of the next shift of store clerks was more than welcome. My shady little corner of Toronto was just beginning to awaken and come to life as I rode my motorcycle home. The deep blue sky was gradually filling up with light, and when I stepped into my house the living room was lit by nothing but the pale pink sunlight squeezing through the grimey windows. Working night shifts could really mess with your head, after awhile. The lines of night and day were blurred and you found yourself constantly alone in the twilight, the surreal hours when the rest of the world was sleeping. Sean was crashed on the couch, still in his tuxedo, bow tie dangling limp around his neck, half-empty bag of M&Ms clutched in his hand. I grinned. It was the kind of scene that made you want to pull the blankets over him and pat him on the head. But, of course, I didn't so much as go near him.
Ellie walked out of their bedroom, having changed out of her prom dress and into jeans and a Whores On Parade t-shirt. It was the same shirt she'd been wearing the day I met her. It seemed alot funnier now. "Hey," she said, smiling when she saw me. She walked into the kitchen and opened the refridgerator. The bright flourescent light spewed out the door and gave an even more eerie feel to the dim house. "How was work?"
How was work? What are we now, married? I found myself growing unreasonably irritable. Too damn tired and trouble-ridden to deal with her. "Work was work. How was prom?"
She shrugged, shutting the fridge door and simultaneously sliding a rubber band off her wrist, which she used to pull her undone red hair into a ponytail. "Prom was prom. There was an after party at Ash's house. We just got back like an hour ago, actually." She sighed in exhaustion, leaning against the mildewed kitchen counter and rubbing her shoulder as though it ached from the weight of the world. When her moment of angsty reflection had passed she glanced up at me, smiling tiredly. "Are you hungry? I could make you something. Some eggs and toast or something." She stretched out her thin arms and wrapped them around my waist, snuggling her face into my smelly black t-shirt. She looked up at me, her face a good four or five inches lower than mine, smiling with a kind of contentment and naivete that was rare in her. It was as if, through her web of dishonesty and self-deception, she'd somehow convinced herself that this was okay. That this was reality. That this was stable and normal and everything she'd been cutting up her skin to find for so long.
I couldn't stand the feeling of her warmth against my tired body. I peeled her off of me, shoving her away a little harder than I intended. I coughed and turned my eyes away, staring at the filthy kitchen floor. Stale cereal was casually spilled in every corner and my heart was breaking as I realized this was my reality. "Look," I said quietly. "Can we not... can we not do this right now? God, Ellie, Sean's right there." I could hear the viciousness in my tone. It was the same asshole-tone I'd used in raising Sean to hate me, and in slowly killing Wendy's love for me. I was brave enough to venture back to her face, and see the confusion and defensiveness in her eyes.
"Um, fine," she said, cocking her eyebrows in that angry way she often did. She rubbed her forearm and yawned, tucking her head back in a pouty way. The room was tediously growing brighter as the sun slowly rose outside our window. The kitchen seemed so small as I watched her walk away from me and open the refridgerator door again. She bent over and peered inside, squinting her eyes as if she expected to find something. As if something had magically materialized there in the past five minutes since she'd last opened it. There was no god damn food in this house. There never was, there never would be. We were always hungry and dirty and lying to ourselves. I could visualize, so easily, Ellie dancing the night away in her lie of a dress at Prom. Laughing with her little friends, wrapping her arms around Sean, swaying to horrible pop music, and not once taking a moment to pause and realize she was slowly destroying herself. And Sean. And me. And everything.
I had to get the fuck out now before I was in too deep.
"I've been... I've been thinking of moving out," I said, staring at the dirty floor. The square patch of sunlight from the window was getting brighter. "Maybe New York or something." I could hardly believe what I was saying, but it felt right. My old man always did say the only way to make a change that matters is to make the decision in a split-second.
I could immediately sense her fearful silence. The tension sunk in so fast and hard it felt like someone was rapidly sucking out all the oxygen in the room. Ellie pulled her head out of the glowing refridgerator and stared at me, pale-faced a slack-jawed. "What?" she said. Her voice fell to the floor with a heavy thud. "What are you talking about? You can't leave us."
The fuck I can't, I thought. I'd had my time to sulk over Wendy, but now I could see the truth, clear as the day that was quickly dawning. This wasn't my house anymore. I'd known it from the moment I'd first waltzed back through that door. It was their house now, Sean and Ellie's. The life I'd once had here was now only an ebbing apparition, and there was nowhere I could go but forward. If I didn't get out of here I'd lose my god damn mind. I fought hard to keep my eyes locked with Ellie's, wanting her to know that I was completely serious. "No, look, I have to leave. I'm not gonna find work around here and I can't just spend the rest of my life working the night shift. I need a change of scene. I need to get my fucking life together."
I could see her lip curling into an unintentional pout. Her eyes were desperate and stubborn, like a six-year-old child. "But... you can't just... you can't just go. Don't you even give a fuck about the people you're leaving behind? Sean, and your friends?" She tugged on her sleeves a bit and shook her head, trying to pretend like she didn't feel the solitary tear creeping down her face. "What about... me?"
I took a deep, heavy breath. It was the question I hoped she wouldn't ask. Mostly because I didn't even know the answer myself. "What about you, Ellie? I told you a long time ago I couldn't be the one to take care of you and your bullshit. This has gone on too long already... if either of us ever want to get our shit together, we've gotta wake up and stop pulling this crap. I don't want to do this any more."
I walked away, without looking at her or giving her time to throw out any more comments. I knew exactly where this conversation would go if I let it continue: in circles. Ellie could whine and argue and lie to no end. I had to end this quickly, clean and simple. I went into the bathroom and shut the thin door tightly. I began slowly peeling off the sweaty clothes that reeked so badly of convenience store, dropping them to the damp, rancid floor. I could hear the first of the morning birds, screeching and squawking at one another as if the coming of a new day was something to celebrate. Annoying mother fuckers. I turned the chipped knob and drowned them out with the noise of hot water pounding onto slimey ceramic. As I climbed into the shower, I noticed there were still black hair dye stains on the floor. I laughed quietly.
I stood right under the nozzle, letting the hot water cascade from my sweat-matted hair to my aching bare feet. I took deep, slow breaths and watched the water and my filth dance down the drain, as I tried to soak in the reality. I was walking away. I was going to leave Sean again. He'd probably start hating me again, but that was okay. He wouldn't hate me nearly as much as he would if I stayed around, if I stayed with Ellie. If the house is on fire, you don't wait for things to get better and the flames to die down; you run out the fucking door. One of Mama Cameron's life lessons. This mother fucker was about to burn down, and I had to bail. It was now or never.
"Tracker?" Ellie's shaky voice said over the noise of the water.
I sighed heavily, rubbing my hands across my wet face. You honestly had to lock your door 24/7 with this girl. It just never stopped. "Kinda busy, kiddo," I snapped back. I had to be merciless. It was the only way to break free from her. "And I don't want to talk about this right now. Or ever, really. I'm dipping out and I'm not changing my mind. This is what's best for everyone. Now let me take a god damn shower." I held my breath and waited for her to walk away. But the sound of the door clicking shut never came.
"Whoa!" I found myself exclaim involuntarily as the plastic curtain was pulled open. Ellie, fully-clothed, climbed into the shower and stood before me, sobbing uncontrollably. The water came crashing down on her, and I watched in bewilderment as her heavy black eye make-up melted down her face. She was soaked to the bone in seconds, and strands of damp red hair were plastered to her face.
"Is it me?" she asked, folding her arms and hugging herself, swaying back and forth. Her eyes were tied tight to mine. I couldn't look away, but God I wanted to. "Did I... did I do something to make you hate me? I mean I just... I just want to know. I need to know."
Her pleading face was painful to watch. She held her broken heart out for me to take away from her. Take the hurt away from her. But I knew I could never do that. "You didn't do anything, Ellie." Cautiously, I reached out for her and put my hands on her shoulder, uncertain if she would let me touch her. She inhaled sharply at my hands but didn't move. "It's not about blaming anyone. I just need to get the fuck out of this house. I need a real job, and a real life. I need to finally get my shit together and I can't do that here."
She nodded as I spoke, but it was the same nod as a little girl who pretended to agree with you while she tried to get her way. "But... but maybe you can. Maybe it'll be better to stay here, and build off of what you already have instead of just starting over. And Sean and I could help, and... Look, I know we're not anything real or anything... I know it's ridiculous to even suggest that we're something real... But sometimes I feel like it really helps, having you around, and having you to talk to..."
She was babbling now, sniffing back trickles of snot and making hopeless attempts at wiping away her ruined make-up. Sometimes I really had to take a step back to see just how broken and pathetic she was. She moved closer to me, her body only centimeters from mine but not quite touching. The water pounded on unfalteringly around us. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being this way. I just... I don't want you to go. I love you."
Slowly, she laid her soaking wet head onto to my bare chest, crying quietly. I took a deep breath, afraid to move. I let the rhythmic crashing of the water lull us into a moment of stillness. With mountains of uncertainty weighing on my head, I eased my arms around her. I pulled her petite body closer to me and tried to soothe her shaking with my embrace. "It's okay," I mumbled into her wet hair. "It's okay. It's going to be okay." I squeezed her tightly, the soggy rag doll in my arms. It was a good ten minutes before either of us could even move.
It was in that moment that I realized I was completely fucked. From the very beginning, from the very first moment I'd caught her stealing glances in my direction, I'd been convincing myself that this was all Ellie's fault. I believed that I was merely a victim of her destructive games, falling into her trap. I thought she'd planned it. I thought all this time that she was manipulative and seductive and an unfeeling slut. God was I a fool.
As she stood in the middle of my shower, soaked and vulnerable and begging me never to leave her, the walls of my illusions came crashing down and reality was glaring in my face. I remembered in that moment that Ellie was only sixteen. That she'd been raised by an alcoholic mother and an absentee father. That she was so misguided and neurotic she took razors to her own skin. That she was scared, and alone, and immature, and foolish. She was a dumb kid, just like me. I could see now that this had never been a game. It was a mistake, a mess, an uncalculated disaster made by the collision of two selfish and fucked-up idiots. We were both fools, untamed and out of control, suffocating in our own lies, tumbling down. Sabotaging ourselves.
I placed a comforting kiss on her forehead. She wanted me to stay with her. And as I rocked her gently back and forth in my arms, it became painfully clear to me that I didn't really have the strength to leave.