She stamps her foot against the floor mat in front of her.
“Yes, it’s wrong,” she actually screams. “It’s wrong because you’re too much of a pussy to stand up for yourself. You’re pathetic. You let everyone treat you like shit and you just keep being so polite and nice and you never say ‘no’ and it makes me sick. Ugh, you make me sick. Your mom doesn’t deserve your attention. None of these awful people in your life deserve your attention. But you keep bending over backward for everyone and rolling over and never wanting to rock the boat. It’s gross, Nic, it’s really gross. And here we are going to this stupid party just so you can be Mr. Nice Guy to everyone and make everyone else happy and never once think about what would be best for you. I mean, why are we going to this party, anyway? Why isn’t just being with me enough for you anymore? You never used to go out to parties. But now suddenly we come to LA and you turn into this little lapdog going around trying to please everyone. It’s disgusting.”
I drag long on my cigarette and then laugh.
I turn right up Topanga Canyon.
“Sue Ellen, man, I wanted to come to this party ’cause I thought it would be fun, that’s all. Honestly, I thought you’d think it was fun, too. I mean, come on, they’re having a full-moon séance in the woods. It’s gonna be funny. This doesn’t have anything to do with anything but that. I don’t know why I’m not allowed to have a life just ’cause I’m dating you. Life’s too short to waste it watching TV and sitting at home. These are the kinds of experiences we’ll remember forever. You can’t keep me caged up like your little pet hamster. You can’t hold on to me like that. And, anyway, the reason I’m nice to people is because I actually really do like them. I like being around them. It’s fun for me and, you know, actually fulfilling. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you or care about you. I mean, I want to do this stuff with you. But you can just be so negative and judgmental all the time, it’s hard including you. That’s why I go do things without you. But I’m really happy you came along tonight. Come on, let’s not ruin it. Let’s just try ’n’ relax and have fun. The only way we’re gonna make it is if we allow each other to build separate lives and, you know, share them together. I want to share this with you. Can’t you just be a little open-minded right now?”
Her fingers have started twirling around in her hair, which is a bad sign.
She clenches her jaw tight when she speaks. “You’re a jerk, Nic.”
I honestly can’t tell whether she’s being rational or not. I mean, I know I have been a jerk to her. But, I don’t know, I feel like I have been trying to make things better.
She just doesn’t make sense is all. She gets her mind set on an idea, and then nothing I say or do can even begin to bring her back. I’m wasting my time trying to talk to her. But, then again, she’ll get even more pissed off if I don’t try. So, I mean, fuck, I just carry on like nothing’s even happened.
I drop it.
Not that it’s hard. At this point, denial is as much a part of me as breathing.
And I guess maybe that’s part of what Sue Ellen was trying to say.
Anyway, it’s not like it really matters. I can’t change and she can’t change and my mom can’t change and my stepdad can’t change.
No one really changes.
That’s why I’m still here.
So I smoke a bowl in the car after we’ve pulled over near the gated-off fire lane. The directions John gave me have us cutting through the fences and following a narrow deer trail off to the left. There’s a full moon. We don’t need a flashlight.
“This is so fucking stupid,” Sue Ellen says through gnashed teeth. “This is stupid and I’m scared and I want to go home right now.”
The sound of cars in the distance echoes loudly through the canyon, like rain falling. Insects chirp and chatter in the dry brush. There are no people or signs of John’s little séance thing anywhere. Still, I can’t help being annoyed at Sue Ellen for making every single thing we do into something negative.
“Nic, I’m serious,” she shouts at me, kicking her feet in the dirt. “I’m scared, let’s go home.”
I roll my eyes without really meaning to.
“Come on, Sue, what do you think’s gonna happen?”
“I don’t know,” she yells, stamping her foot like a child. “I want to go home. I wish we’d never come here.”
I inhale the sweet desert air through my flaring nostrils like a horse getting ready to charge.
“Where? Here, now, or just LA in general?”
“LA in general. Everything was fine before. I never should have let you come back here. I want to go home right now.”
My fists are all clenched. “Fine, fine, whatever.”
I start walking back toward the car without looking at her, but I can hear her footsteps and sobbing behind me. Suddenly she’s crying really loudly.
“I’ll tell you this, though,” I say kind of under my breath. “Things
