CXVI
She was anxious. How could she not be? If anyone were to find out about her plans… She could already imagine her mother choosing the cruelest words possible to describe not only her physique, but also her decisions.
And even though people like Jason or her friends knew how to shrug their shoulders and move on, she wasn't like that. No, Chrissy was weak, conditioned since she was little to be more, to be… whatever her mother wanted from her.
The end of the drive presented a momentary relief.
"This is, uh, my castle," Eddie announces after leaving the car, his ungainly steps obviously trying to hide the embarrassment he feels about living in a trailer.
Chrissy, however, isn't shallow enough to judge him for such a silly reason, so she just smiles and follows him to the door. It takes the boy just a moment to insert the key and open it; afterwards, he gestures for her to go ahead.
Once inside, Eddie closes the door behind them both and goes to clean some food wrappers scattered on various surfaces.
"Sorry for the mess. Uh, the maid took the week off."
It's a joke, but Chrissy is too nervous to comment on it. Instead, she asks: "You, uhm… You live here alone?"
"With my uncle," Eddie replies as he throws the waste into a trash can. "But, uh, he works nights at the plant. Bringing home the big bucks."
"How long does it take?" The words slip out quickly.
"Sorry?" Eddie looks away from the cabinet he's now rifling through.
Chrissy inhales deeply and lowers her arms to her sides in a vain attempt to relax. "The Special K. How long to kick in?"
"Oh, uh, well, it depends if you snort it or not," he explains calmly. "Uh, if you do, then yeah: it'll, uh, kick in pretty quick," he adds with a smile that seems intended to calm her as he uncovers a metal container; seeing its empty interior, he grimaces. "Aw, shit."
"You're sure you have it?" Chrissy asks, her nerves on edge.
"No, no, no, I got it," he answers without hesitation, returning the container to its place. "Uhm, somewhere," he adds with a confused expression. "Uh…" He seems to remember something and turns his back on her, walking down the hallway toward the back of the trailer. "Sorry I'm late, sweetheart. You are beautiful."
The last words baffle her. "Uh, Eddie, is anyone else here? Because if I'm bothering you—"
"No, no, no one!" she hears him answer with a nervous laugh. "Just my guitar."
The answer does not convince her: what if there is actually someone else? Someone who may spread rumors about her…
Determined to face whomever it may be, she walks down the hallway that leads—now she sees it—to Eddie's room. And she finds him kneeling in front of his drawers, the guitar hanging on the wall above them.
"So… It really was your guitar?"
Eddie turns around instantly, surprised to see her there. Chrissy is about to apologize, but he just shrugs. "Well, I told you I played the guitar."
"Yes, but not that you talked to it," she retorts.
For a moment, Eddie seems speechless. She doesn't say anything either. They look at each other for endless seconds and…
… they burst out laughing.
They're still laughing when Eddie stands up and dusts off his pants. "You know? You seem like a really nice girl, and I wonder… Do you really want to use?" Chrissy feels her smile disappear from her face. "'Cause, well, perhaps, it occurs to me, it's very rare that someone like you would want this… You're not like my usual clients, at least."
"Someone like me?" Chrissy murmurs with a frown.
"Someone who has it all," Eddie explains.
She presses her lips together and replies: "I don't have it all."
Far from being offended or trying to contradict her, Eddie just cocks his head in surprise. "Don't you?"
"No, I don't." Eddie doesn't ask the question; his eyes do it for him. Before considering where and whom she is with, the words pour out of her mouth non-stop. "Like I've told you before, I feel… I feel like I'm going crazy. And… And, well, I think it's stupid that I come to your house and end up telling you my problems, so, if you just give me the Special K—"
"Oh, no, not at all!" he interrupts her, waving his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "If you want to talk, I'll listen."
For a moment, Chrissy is silent. Eddie offers her a shy smile and steps to the side, offering her his tiny bed as a seat with a silent gesture.
Chrissy tells him everything: about her parent's expectations—especially her mother's—about the way she feels permanently on a tightrope, on the verge of disappointing everyone around her…
Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, and suddenly Chrissy begins to doubt her decision to reveal so much about herself to him. When she feels that she can no longer bear the silence, she stands up. "Sorry, I shouldn't have—"
Quickly, but gently, Eddie grabs her hand.
"Please sit down," he asks.
With trembling lips, Chrissy does so.
Eddie speaks then, his words tinged with an uncertain tone: "Can I say something?"
She simply nods; she doesn't feel able to speak right now.
"Well, it sounds like they're putting too much pressure on you."
"Yeah." She sighs, feeling like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. "Yeah, I know, and just I don't know what to do to meet their expectations: I'm desperate."
"Maybe you shouldn't, then?"
She turns her face abruptly towards him. "If I'm not able to make my own mother happy, doesn't that mean I'm a disappointment?"
"Uh, no?" He offers her a sad smile as he moves one hand to ruffle his own hair. "I don't think you owe anyone anything. I'm sure anyone would tell you that."
Chrissy shakes her head. "Jason tells me that it's okay for me to do it, to make an effort—"
"Oh, I'm sorry." Eddie rolls his eyes. "I should have specified: any decent person."
She tries in vain to stop the laughter that escapes her. Even so, she soon recovers enough to say: "Don't badmouth my boyfriend!"
"Hey, no offense, but remember what I said about you being a nice girl?" She nods, her cheeks heating up at the nonchalant way in which he repeats such compliment. "Well, I don't know what you're doing with that guy. Is it his hair? Is that it?" He presses his chin between his fingers, an expression so thoughtful it borders on theatrical on his face. "'Cause you can tell that it is well cared for, I'll give him that. It's not like my hair, sure, but not everyone can be me, so—"
A guffaw escapes her this time and, knowing that words aren't cooperating with her right now, she punches his shoulder playfully. This only makes him laugh too.
"Hey, I'm serious!" he insists once his laughter subsides enough. "You should put yourself first."
At his words, Chrissy feels a sudden warmth nestle in her chest. She rests her palms on the edge of the bed, her fingers digging into the mattress to try to control what she's feeling, and offers a shy smile to the boy next to her: "You know? You seem like a really nice guy, too."
"Me?" He points to his chest with his index finger, surprised. "No way: I'm awful."
"You think so? I mean, you seem very… kind. A very nice person."
A grimace disfigures Eddie's face. "Uhm, remember I brought you here to sell you drugs? Yeah, well, that."
"But I asked you to."
"Yeah, I guess you did," he concedes. "But I'm promoting a pretty ugly vice and—"
"Eddie." She is the one who interrupts him now. "I know… I know why you do it."
It's obvious, after all: Eddie lives in a trailer with his uncle, an uncle who works at the plant late at night, because night hours pay a little better.
Eddie clears his throat and looks away; Chrissy thinks she sees a blush on his cheeks, but she assumes it must be the dim light in the room playing a joke on her.
"Okay, I can't let you think I'm good. Let's see, who can I badmouth now? You already told me Jason is a no-go." Suddenly, he snaps his fingers and turns his face to look at her again. "I know: Angela."
That name does catch her off guard, especially because, until that moment, she had thought that only she—and perhaps Jane, Angela's classmate—had noticed her true personality.
Eddie, however, misinterprets her stunned expression and murmurs: "Oops, sorry: she's your friend, isn't she?"
"No," she denies, a little more bluntly than necessary.
"Oh. Great. 'Cause I seriously couldn't help but be glad when I found out that Jane broke her face."
Chrissy's jaw drops at this information. "Jane did WHAT?!"
"Well, apparently the rumor is that Jane accused Angela with a teacher for making her notebook disappear." Chrissy feels her blood run cold at this. "And Angela, for her part, decided to put on quite a show at the mall's skating rink: she and several of her friends humiliated Jane, poured a milkshake on her clothes and made fun of her.
"I don't know the details because I'm not very close to Jane, but I do speak with several of her friends: they all say that this is not true, that she never accused Angela with anyone. And, well, it makes sense: that girl is quiet, shy; I don't see her trying to get anyone in trouble, not even to defend herself… Well, in any case, that was my impression until she broke Angela's face with a skate and she became my personal hero."
Chrissy is silent. Noticing that the anecdote he has told with clear humorous purposes is not successful, Eddie makes a grimace: "Uh, was that too much? Maybe joking about the violence was unnecessary—"
But she can't say anything more than these words: "Eddie, I think I made a mistake."
Once she finishes her tale, Eddie is looking at her with wide eyes.
"Well, shit."
"Do you think I should apologize?" she asks him.
"Uh, I'm not going to impose any expectations on you," he reminds her, shaking his head. "You do what you feel like doing."
Chrissy nods, determined. "I will do just that. But… I'm going to tell Jason what happened, because Angela is his friend and what she did wasn't right; I think he should know."
"Uhm, again, no offense intended… I don't think he'll take your side."
"Eddie, he's my boyfriend," she reminds him.
"Your boyfriend is a popular boy who lives his life judging others and believing himself superior to them," the boy points out in a weary tone.
"Okay, he can be like that, I know, but he has a good heart, I'm sure of it."
Eddie doesn't say anything for a moment.
"I hope you're right," he finally mumbles, standing up and offering her a hand to help her up. "Come, Chrissy; it's late, I'll take you home."
"But… the Special K…"
Eddie shakes his head, a tired smile on his face.
For some reason, that wordless gesture brings tears to her face.
"Thank you," she says, taking his hand.
"You're welcome," he assures her. "I'm here when you need it."
And somehow, deep inside, Chrissy understands that he's not referring to any substance.