Chapter Three
New Clothes and The Cure
Thursday morning, Brian manages to catch Claire in the courtyard before homeroom.
"Claire, could I ask a favor?"
"Sure, Brian." She gives him that clear, sweet look that grabs his heart every time. He wishes it wouldn't. His stomach is flip-flopping for Beatrice, why is his heart still being tugged by Claire? Dammit, focus.
"I need some new clothes but I don't know what to get." He's been saving his allowance for years now, to go towards college expenses, but fuck it, he dresses like a kid and he's grown up now, in high school. He needs to wear something other than what his mother picks out.
"You need to go shopping?" She looks excited. Shopping is what Claire does best.
"I guess so. I just got tired of wearing…" He pulls at the hem of his green sweat shirt.
"That's great. I'd love to take you shopping. When do you want to go?"
"I've got Latin club today, but maybe tomorrow?"
They make plans to meet up after school the next day.
"Claire?"
"Yes?"
"Don't tell anyone. Okay?"
A look of comprehension comes over her. She nods.
Latin club is far more lively with Beatrice there. She impresses Mr. Tillson with her knowledge of irregular verbs and mythology. Brian can see the wheels in his mind turning, deciding how best to use her skills at the next convention. She spurs the others on to do their best as well. Edina and Janice, the junior girls, seem happy to have another girl in the club after being the only ones for three years.
After the meeting, Brian and Beatrice walk out together and head toward the Willow Street exit without a pause in their conversation about Ovid's Amores, of which he has only read small excerpts. They turn west and reach Milton Avenue more quickly than seems right.
When Beatrice says, "See you tomorrow," he feels a surge of happiness.
Having so much happiness now makes his home life come into focus. His mother is a hard driving woman without mercy. Claire cares more about him than his mother seems to. His mother's only focus is grades, academics and getting into a good college. But why? It is the first time he's thought about that. What's wrong with going to the state university? He doesn't want to be a doctor or a lawyer. In fact, he doesn't know what he wants to be. But the idea of graduating from high school only to be under even more pressure suddenly seems undesirable. He's confronted with a teetering mountain of unending pressure and wonders if that's what he wants. High school to college, college to graduate work, graduate work to some high power profession, to what end? So that he can live his life to please his mother? What about Brian? When does he get to please himself?
He is greeted by his little sister squealing because he is home later than usual. He must have been walking slowly with his head full of these heretical thoughts.
"I'm gonna tell mom!" She's delighted with something to tattle about.
"You go right ahead and do that Samantha. I'll take all the heads off your Barbies."
"I'll tell mom if you do that."
"You can tell mom all you want, that won't get their heads back. You know how expensive they are and you won't get new ones. I might be punished, but you'll still have nothing but headless Barbies."
She looks uncertain.
"You do what you want, Sam. You don't want your Barbies to have heads, that's fine with me."
"Okay, I won't say you were late."
"You won't say anything about anything, if you know what's good for you." Why hadn't he thought of this before?
He decides to be up front about the new clothes. He can't hide new clothes, so he'll have to explain himself anyway.
His father is doling out chicken pieces at dinner when he brings it up.
"I'm going shopping with a friend tomorrow." He doesn't ask; it's a statement.
"No, you're not, young man. You're going to come straight home to work on your physics project," his mother says, reaching for the pepper.
"Mom, I have all weekend to work on it. Shopping for a couple of hours will make no difference."
"You'll do as you're told." She slams the pepper shaker down.
"Mom, be reasonable. I'll still have over 48 hours in the entire weekend to do nothing but work on my physics project, which is almost done as it is."
"What are you shopping for anyway?"
"Clothes."
"What's wrong with the clothes you have now?"
"You picked them out. I don't want to be dressed by my mother anymore." He pushes his plate away.
He's surprised when his father interjects, "Helen, let him buy some clothes. He's old enough to make his own decisions." His father fixes him with a stern look. "You'll be paying for this on your own and I hope you'll use your money wisely."
"Claire, I think we should go to JC Penny, not Bloomingdale's."
"I always shop at Bloomingdale's, what's wrong with it?" Claire asks over her shoulder as she leads the way into the mall.
"I have $110 to spend, that would get me two pairs of pants at Bloomingdale's."
She looks shocked at this idea.
"I'm sorry, Brian, I forgot…" She blushes.
"You forgot you're rich and I'm not. That's okay. But we need to be realistic."
So they set off for Penny's. He emerges with two big bags, stuffed with two pairs of pants, four shirts, a new belt and some socks. He might look like Claire dressed him now, but that is better than looking like his mother dressed him.
At lunch on Monday, Beatrice bounces over, holding up a Walkman triumphantly.
"My parents gave it back!"
She settles between Brian and Allison and hands it to Allison.
"You can listen to it now! The Cure concert!"
Allison, almost as excited as Beatrice, takes the Walkman and puts it on.
"I wish I had a dual cassette player so I could copy it for her," Beatrice says, then whispers to Brian, "I wouldn't let anyone borrow it, not for my life, not even Allison."
Brian is so incredulous at his good fortune it takes him a minute to speak. "My dad has a dual cassette player. You could copy it at my house."
How he would arrange this, he doesn't know. He doubts his mother would like the way Allison and Beatrice dress. Between Beatrice's earrings and Allison's shaggy hair and black eyeliner, he doesn't see her being too pleased to see them. Actually, he thinks his mother wouldn't like him having any friends over at all, not even nice clean-cut people like Andy and Claire. She regards him as a homework machine and time not spent studying is time wasted in her opinion. The more time he spends at the breakfast club lunch table, the more he realizes how unreasonable his mother is and the more he realizes how she makes him miserable.
But Tuesdays are Sam's Brownie meetings. They don't get home until five.
"You guys could come over after school tomorrow, if you want."
Beatrice energetically pokes Allison to get her to remove the headphones.
"Brian can copy it for us!"
Allison's eyes are bright with pleasure.
"Bring a blank tape and we can do it tomorrow," Beatrice says.
Allison's face falls. "I can't tomorrow. Andy has a meet."
"Well, bring a blank tape anyway and me and Brian can do it ourselves."
Tuesday, Brian carefully dresses in some of his new clothes, a pair of loose, bleached jeans and a simple white shirt. Claire's fashion sense is unerring and she picked out the right style and cut to look great without drawing attention to himself. He spends a little time playing with the collar and wondering what he would look like with a pierced ear. Finally he lets the collar lie flat and decides he'd look pretty stupid with an earring.
His morning classes pass in a happy blur. He doesn't even take notes in history, he's too distracted. He can get them later from Lester or Gil. During lunch, he nervously toys with his cafeteria mac and cheese. (He's stopped bringing lunch from home, feeling the full weight of Bender's mockery of his lunch in detention.) Beatrice and Allison are trying to explain who Béla Lugosi is to Andy. Beatrice gives Brian her Walkman and he absentmindedly puts it on, but all he hears is static and some weird kind of clicking, so he returns it to her.
Finally the last bell rings and Brian meets Beatrice by the Willow Street exit. She looks as happy as he feels, positively glowing.
"I think your Walkman is broken, Beatrice."
"No, I was just listening to it. It's fine."
"When you let me listen to it, it was all static and weird sounds."
"It's supposed to sound like that, that's 'Béla Lugosi's Dead' by Bauhaus." She laughs. "You'll like The Cure better."
"Between you and me, Beatrice, I mainly listen to classical music."
"Oh, I love Wagner. And everybody likes Beethoven. Even if they don't realize it, they do."
"Yeah, if Bender knows the Fifth, everyone does."
"Well, I won't torture you with Bauhaus. We'll copy this Cure concert and then listen to whatever you want. It's really nice of you to do this."
When they arrive at his family's modest ranch house, he feels like a trespasser in his own home. It is silent and he has a weird feeling they should whisper, in case his mother, miles away at the Brownie meeting, might hear them.
He tosses his backpack on the couch and turns on the stereo.
"You want something to drink? I think we've got some Pepsi."
Beatrice is already flopped on the mustard yellow shag carpeting in front of the stereo, fiddling with settings.
"Sure."
As he opens the fridge, he hears a crowd cheering, then slow single guitar notes floating on eerie synthesizer humming. He pops open the cans of Pepsi and the music picks up a bit with a drumbeat and lyrics, although the singer sounds like he's about to cry. This is better than 'Béla Lugosi's Dead,' but still really weird. When he returns to the living room, Beatrice is lying on her back, arms spread, obviously enjoying the music. He settles on the floor too, arms hooked around his knees. The music spins back into the ethereal synthesizer sounds.
"This is their Japan tour. I saw them in Chicago this winter. It was amazing." Now the singer is wailing like a tortured soul. In her current position, her loose black t-shirt full of holes hugs her curves, and he sees a strip of skin between her waistband and the tank top under her shirt. The dreamy atmospheric sounds and agonized lyrics are making him feel a bit odd.
"C'mon, Brian, loosen up. Take off your shoes, lie back." Her Converse shoes are kicked off and lying beneath the coffee table. He follows her instructions and stretches out on his side next to her. When she rolls toward him onto her side, they are only inches apart. Her green eyes look huge so close and he can see flecks of black and amber. He begins to say something and instead finds himself kissing her. The music and her taste and the feel of her cool skin blend into a tapestry of sensation, overwhelming him. After an unmeasured time, the loud click of the tape ending startles them apart.
Brian lays his hand on his chest, trying to contain the bounding of his heart. That is how his mother finds them, Beatrice flipping the tape and him trying to catch his breath.
He leaps to his feet and starts, "Mom-" He doesn't know what he might say, but he doesn't get a chance.
"Brian Jerome Johnson, what are you doing?"
Beatrice is on her feet now too, looking very collected, holding out her hand.
"Mom, this is Beatrice. From the Latin Club."
His mother is forced to shake her hand, albeit reluctantly. Beatrice gives her a confident smile and says, "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Johnson. Brian was just helping me memorize some Ovid."
Wow, she's a quick thinker. He can see his mother revising her intended diatribe.
"Intret amicitiae nomine tectus amor," she recites. "It's for next year's convention. Your son is a master of dramatic recitation." She looks at Brian with laughter in her eyes. "Did I get it right this time?"
"Um, yeah, that's it."
His mother is regarding them through narrowed eyes, but she can find nothing wrong except Beatrice's clothing being outrageous.
Beatrice rattles the two tapes and says, "These will help me a lot. Thank you, Brian."
The next morning Brian finds Beatrice waiting for him at his locker.
She asks, "Did you get in much trouble?" before he can say anything.
"No. She couldn't really say anything, we were working on Latin, not wasting time."
"But she doesn't like me?"
He tries to think of a polite way to say yes.
"She doesn't like my clothes, does she?"
"I think so, yeah. She didn't forbid me seeing you though. As long as we're studying. That's all I am ever permitted to do, everything else is wrong." He gives her a sidelong look. "I looked up that quote. 'Let love steal in disguised as friendship.' Are you trying to tell me something?"
"It happens." She pulls him in for a hug. Her hair smells delicious and her shirt is soft against his fingers.
He opens his eyes to see Allison over Beatrice's shoulder, patiently waiting. The hot blush creeping up his neck makes his embarrassment even worse, but Allison acts as though Brian hugging Beatrice is perfectly normal.
"Hey Allison."
Beatrice turns and looks very disappointed. "I only got one side copied. Here." She hands Allison a tape. "I'll make a full copy later. If that's okay, Brian?"
"Next Tuesday." His smile spreads. "You can make all the copies you want on Tuesdays."