2/16
Today after school, Papi takes me to the eye doctor. I hadn't had an eye test done since the ones you do in elementary school just to make sure you can read that big E on top of the chart.
It's generally painless (Not that I'm expecting it to be painful), except when I'm looking into this one thing and they blow air puffs in my eyes. I don't know what they could be reading since my eyes were totally closed after they did that. I guess how sensitive my eyes are?
As I'm sitting in the office, in that big chair with all the gadgets on it, I lean back and relaxed. "This is nice," I say.
"The optometrist?" Papi asks.
"Yeah... it's relaxing."
Then the doctor comes in and we do lots of tests ("Better or worse? Better or worse? Better or worse?"), and she nods and confirms what I'd been figuring.
"You're going to need reading glasses."
I feel like a little old woman. Reading glasses. What kind of fourteen year old needs READING GLASSES? Probably more than I'd figure, but still. For crying out loud.
They work on my lenses, so I go pick out frames. I didn't want anything fancy. So I just picked out some cute wire frames that make me feel like Harry Potter when I wear them (well, if Harry Potter was a Latina girl). I like them, so I picked them.
Papi nods, but I about pass out when I notice that the frames are hundred dollars.
"Papi, they're so expensive!"
"That's about right," he says.
"Oh." Sometimes I have such a bad view on money. It seems silly that plain black frames would cost a hundred dollars.
After we get my glasses (it's a huge improvement, just right), Papi drops me off at the bookstore. I'm not working, but I thought I'd stop by and show Ducky and Alex.
"Check it out!" I exclaim as I walk inside. I slip on my glasses. "I can read!"
"Nice," Alex says. "That's good for working at a bookstore."
"Thank you very much." I take a little bow.
Ducky comes out of the back and grins at me. "They're fantastic!"
"Thanks!"
"Where are you off to now?"
"Band practice. I asks Papi to drop me off here first, though. I can walk to the Chavez's easily."
"I'll come pick you up afterwards," Ducky says. "We'll be out of here by then, right?"
"Probably," I say. I walk to Rico's and I can already hear the bickering. I sigh and go inside.
"Look, you can't just think that this is a better chord all of a sudden," Bruce says.
"But it sounds better," Rico replies.
"No, it doesn't. You're delusional."
"What's going on?" I ask.
"Rico wants to change my music," Bruce says. "He just pissed off because I wrote a song without him."
"Well, we always write songs together!" Rico exclaims.
"Sure, but I don't want all my songs to be about a girl you slept with six months ago!"
Rico's eyes open really wide. The sounds of the garage (which have become oblivious to arguing, it's so common placed anymore) stop. Everyone stares at Rico. Rico's face is really pale. Bruce's face, which has been red with anger, is draining color.
No one asks, but everyone is wondering if what Bruce said is true.
"I can't believe you said that," Rico says. "I told you that in confidence."
"It just slipped," Bruce says. "And I mean it. I think we can all agree that Claudia songs are getting old really fast. Right, Amalia?"
"They're my songs!" Rico says. "I can write about whatever I want. If I want to write about Claudia or whatever girl I'm seeing, then it's my business. Right, Amalia?"
What way to phrase that. Put it right on me. Everyone looks to me.
"Uhhh..." What am I supposed to say? This is picking sides, right? I know Maggie agrees with Bruce. I know Patti and Justin are trying to stay out of this, but Patti would probably side with Bruce since they've been dating. Justin, after everything with Ducky would probably understand where Rico is coming from.
I hate this feeling. I can't win. Someone is going to end up mad at me. Someone is going to blame me. I start to feel angry because they're pinning this on me. No one is going to win here. I can feel them all staring at me, waiting for me to pick a side, make the peace.
Finally, I say the words that have been building for a while now. "I don't know, guys. I really don't know much anymore, I think. But what I do know is that I need to quit."
"WHAT?" Maggie exclaims.
"I can't take this anymore. All you do is fight, and... you don't really need me. You've got Rainah. Tell her to talk to you. Because I'm sick of being her messenger service and I'm sick of being monkey in the middle every time you guys start to fight. And I never know when that's going to start up again. I thought this was fun, I thought we were all friends, but right now I feel like your referee." I pause. "I'm sorry."
"No, we're sorry," Maggie says. "We shouldn't have-"
"It's okay," I say. "I just... I don't have time for this and you guys DON'T really need me anymore. And I shouldn't have to be a peacekeeper. Really, it was fun when it was fun." And then I leave. No one comes after me. It's just as well. I don't feel like being talked into staying.
I feel like I'm doing one of those shooting games. You shoot down the targets, one by one, until there's none left. But then you get a prize. Bam! Brendan's gone. Bam! Band's gone. If I keep this up, sooner or later, I'm not going to have anything. I don't think I'll get a prize.
I don't feel like upsetting Mami and Papi with my problems. I don't feel like being attacked by Isabel to look at bridal magazines. So I walk back to the bookstore.
Alex is sitting at the counter. He's pouring over something and says "Hello," without looking up.
"Hi," I say.
Then, he looks up. "Amalia? What are you doing back? You practically just left." He studies my face for a moment. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" Ducky repeats, coming out from the back. He's looking at Alex. Then he looks at me. "Amalia! What are you doing here?"
"I just quit the band," I say. "Or at least, my part with the band."
"What?"
"They were fighting about some stupid thing, like they always do, and... I just said to hell with it. I left." I start to cry. Not really because I'm regretting my choice, but just how I did it. Storming out of there. Trying to ignore their shocked faces. Trying to put their disbelief out of my mind. It doesn't work and I cry.
Ducky walks over and hugs me. I cling to him. I feel like an idiot.
"You're not an idiot," he says when I tell him. "You did what you thought was right for you."
"For a dumb reason. It was just a dumb fight."
"It's not dumb if it's right," he says.
That sounds all good and well, but it doesn't make me feel that much better. The customers in the store give me a funny look.
"I don't want to go home," I say. "I don't want to explain this again. Not tonight anyway."
"Then stay here. We'll do something after we get off work. Is that okay with you, Alex?"
Alex nods. "No problem. I can get all my homework done here."
I sit down on the floor behind the counter where no one can see me. I do my homework too. After a couple more hours, Ducky and Alex close up the store. I help them, though I never close. I just work those few hours in the afternoon. But I know enough about it to know how to help them. Count out the cash, put it in the safe for Mr. Winslow to pick up in the morning.
"We need to take down the Valentine's display tomorrow," Alex says. "We... probably should have done that today."
"What display goes up next?" I ask.
"Ummm... books about February? I have no idea."
"Me either," Ducky says. He locks the safe. "Let's go."
They lock up and we all get into Ducky's car. He drives us to the park. We're sitting on a bench looking out into the darkness over a lake. The moon is reflecting on it. It's a half moon, and not very bright, but it's cloudless out, so it's not too bad. I'm sitting between Ducky and Alex, and they're keeping me pretty warm. It's so chilly out.
"What are we doing here?" I ask.
"We're hanging out." Ducky wraps his arm around my shoulders. "That about sums it up. Since we're not doing much else."
"Is there a... point to this?"
"It's relaxing?"
"I'm relaxed," Alex says.
I guess I'm relaxed too. Even so, I ask, "Are you going to make me talk about it?"
"Not really," Ducky says, "Unless you want to. But you don't have to. We can talk about Alex."
Alex cocks his head at a funny angle. "What about Alex?"
"Oh, nothing. We could just talk about how Alex is a workaholic who needs to quit Starburst's."
"WHAAAAT?" Alex says. Right in my ear. "When did this come up?"
"It's been up," Ducky replies cooly, and rather un-Ducky-like. "And I think you know it. I've known you long enough-"
"Please don't throw my own words back in my face," Alex says. He tries to sound like he's joking, but I don't know Alex well enough to know if he is or not.
"I've known you long enough," Ducky continues, "to know what you're doing. You're doing exactly what you did before, just in a more socially acceptable way. You're working yourself into exhaustion and because of that you can avoid actually dealing with anything."
"Please don't try to psycho-analyze me, will you?" Any trace of joking is gone. Alex sounds pretty angry. "I'm working hard, I even work a job I hate because it's money. What difference does it make? It's my business."
"It makes a difference because you're my friend. And I will do anything I can to keep you from slipping back into that, all right?" Ducky pauses and Alex doesn't try to say anything. "Then there's the fact, that you admit yourself, that you hate working there. And you shouldn't do anything you hate. Besides, we'd all like to see more of you, especially outside of work."
I'm sort of sensing a silent "Right, Amalia?" but thankfully Ducky doesn't say it. And I hadn't even told him about that. But I don't say anything because I DON'T know Alex that well and I'd feel uncomfortable, not only throwing my opinion at him, but I'd feel even worse if he started to turn on me, like he is Ducky.
"It's my business," Alex says.
"Is this the new version of "you wouldn't understand"? Because I'm not taking that one anymore," Ducky says. His voice sounds aggravated and I feel a little uncomfortable sitting between them. Ducky's arm around my shoulder tightens with his stress.
Alex jumps up. "Well, you wouldn't!" He looks like he's going to storm away, but his shoulders drop. "You know how much I hate it when you're right. But isn't it better this way? Better than before?"
"If you're still avoiding your problems, it's not good. And it doesn't get better overnight," Ducky says.
"Maybe coming back this soon was a bad idea," Alex says. "Maybe it was too soon."
"I don't think so," I say, even though I have no idea. "Maybe you were just taking it the wrong way. Taking the wrong approach."
Alex sits back down. "I feel stupid."
"Don't feel stupid," Ducky says. "Once I started, I got sort of scared that was going the wrong way with it."
"Eh, yelling common sense at me works," Alex replies, that joking sounds is back in his voice. "I'll put in my two-week notice. Will that make you happy?"
"I don't know, it's not my business."
Alex laughs. "If I had something to throw at you, I'd throw it right now."
"I'm going to go after school special on you," Ducky says.
"Uh-oh."
"But don't forget that you've got friends, okay?" He stretches out the arm that's been around my shoulders and taps Alex's shoulder. "We're here for you for a reason. Right, Amalia?"
This time there's no sides. This time, there's nothing to stop me, make me feel like saying something will be the wrong thing.
"Definitely," I say without hesitation. And for the first time, I feel like Alex is my friend. Not just Ducky's friend. I don't know what I lost, dropping Vanish like that (vanishing? Vanish puns are so horrible), but when things are so uncertain there, it's nice to know that I gained something.
