Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Florence punched in the final item in the order and pushed the total button. The register rang out and Florence stifled a yawn. “Oh, excuse me,” she laughed. “It’s getting close to quitting time.“

The customer, a skinny woman in Jordache jeans and a halter-top raised her pencilled and razor thin eyebrows, and nodded in agreement. “Tell me about it,” she said. “By the way, what’s that come to?”

“That will be $54.78, please.”

The woman whistled, sending her eyebrows practically past her hairline, as she fished around in her purse for her checkbook. Florence handed her a pen.

“Don’t blame me,” said Florence. “I just work here. And believe me, my paycheck doesn’t go up nearly as fast as the prices. Oh, and could you turn that sign around for me? I am closed, closed, closed.”

“Sure thing.”

The customer relinquished her check after letting the total sink into her head one last time, and flipped the sign at the end of Florence’s aisle so that it read “Closed”. Billy finished bagging the order, and loaded the last of her groceries into her cart, being careful to keep the eggs on top. It was nearly 4:00 pm. Quitting time. Billy watched the woman wheel her cart away. Surely her jeans were tight enough to stop the flow of blood to her legs. Florence sat down on the stool she kept behind her register.

“Well, another day, another dollar,” said Florence. She popped a stick of gum into her mouth. “Peppermint,” she smiled, offering Billy a piece. He shook her off. “Lord, I can’t wait to get home,” she said. “Although I have to head right back out again.”

“Why?” asked Billy.

“Oh, Reggie’s got a birthday party to go to. Pizza and bowling. I’ll tell you, that boy’s got a better social life than me.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll sit in the back with the other moms, have a beer, and cheer my lungs out. How about you? Big plans?”

Billy just looked at her.

“Oh, that’s right. Your parents grounded your behind.”

“For the rest of the summer,” Billy moaned. Mr. Graves was busy in the back and it was nearly quitting time anyway so Billy sat down on the bagging area while Florence closed up her register.

“One lousy mistake,” he said, leaning back on his elbows.

“Oh, just one, huh?” asked Florence.

“We were trying to show Freddie a good time. We didn’t hurt anybody. We were only late because we were looking for him.”

Florence removed her cash drawer from the register and rested it on her hip. “I see. You’re supposed to receive a reward because you didn’t leave a poor retarded boy stranded down at the shore, where you weren’t supposed to be in the first place. At 2:00 in the morning, no less.”

“He was the one who wandered away,” said Billy defensively.

“Mmm, Hmm,” said Florence.

“And now I’m grounded for the rest of the summer.”

Billy collapsed backwards so now his back was on the bagging area and his legs were dangling over the side. He stared up into the florescent lights.

“Life sucks,” he said.

“Poor baby,” said Florence, dripping with sarcasm. “That’s only two weeks. I’ve had headaches that lasted longer than that.”

Billy sat up. “Yeah, but then there’s school, and…” He stopped.

“What?”

“Well, Shari gets back in a couple of days.”

Florence smiled knowingly. “She’s that pretty young thing that came by a few times, right? Your girlfriend?”

“Sort of,” he mumbled, regretting he said anything.

“Sort of?” she scoffed. “Honey, she is or she isn’t. The way you’re moping about it I’d say you got it bad.”

Billy hopped off the counter. “I’m not moping.” He bent down and gathered some receipts that shoppers had dropped in the aisle. “A lot of good it does me, anyway” he said.

He crumpled the receipts and tossed them, basketball style, into the trash receptacle behind Florence’s register. He looked to her for some reaction, but she just let out a “Hmph” and started heading for the office to deposit her cash.

“Maybe,” she said over her shoulder, “That will teach you a lesson.”

‘Adults, man,’ thought Billy. ‘They’re all the same. Even Florence. Like they never made a mistake.’

Billy sauntered over to rack that held the time cards. He still had four minutes before he could punch out. Getting off of work was anticlimactic, though, when the only thing in front of him was an evening with his family. He’d been hiding in his room the last couple of nights, and it was getting old. Last night he called Kyle on the phone and wasn’t at all pleased to find out that he was only grounded for one week.

“One week!” Billy had said. “Man, you got off easy.”

“No way,” said Kyle. “Your parents are just real hard asses, what can I tell you? Dwight and Darren had to just clean out the garage or something.”

“They didn’t get grounded at all?” asked Billy incredulously. He punched a pillow on the couch where he’d been sitting.

“Nope,” said Kyle.

“Well, I guess they weren’t the ones who lost Freddie.”

“We did not lose Freddie,” said Kyle sternly. Before he could get out any rationalization Billy just said, “Whatever” and there was silence for several seconds.

“Anyway,” said Billy, “I can’t believe I’m getting the worst of this.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Kyle. “Rooster had some big knockdown drag-out with his parents.”

“Really?”

“He came by last night and climbed up to the roof outside my bedroom window to tell me about it. He was pissed. And the side of his face was like all red. I think his Dad smacked him one.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“But he’s still living in the tent?” asked Billy.

“Yeah, he comes and goes as he pleases as long as he doesn’t kill the lawn.”

“I’d take that deal,” said Billy.

“You and me both.”

***********************************************************************

Billy replayed the conversation with Kyle in his head while waiting for the time clock to get to 4:00. It was a big gray, clunky clock. As each minute passed it make a large click as the display changed. It seemed to hang at 3:59 for half an hour as he and his co-workers waited in a long line stretching down the hallway. Finally, the clock signaled their release and they all punched out and said good-bye. In his head he knew that Rooster probably had the rawest deal, but still it didn’t feel that way.

Billy did not hurry home. He made a couple detours along the way, hoping to run into somebody but it wasn’t to be. He tried to stretch out the trip as long as he possibly could without annoying his mother. She worked until 3:00. Often, she ran errands and didn’t get home until dinnertime, but he knew that for this week, anyway, she’d be coming straight home to make sure that he was there.

“Hi, I’m home,” he said as he came into the kitchen. There was no response. Instead he heard laughing and a flurry of activity coming from Justine’s room. Carly Simon was playing on the stereo, softer than usual, though, for his mother’s benefit. The two of them were in there – his mom and Justine – and they were ebullient. Justine was laying clothes on the bed, alternately bouncing around or chewing a nail.

“How about this one, mom?”

“That’s cute, but I like that little yellow dress better.”

Justine started rummaging energetically through her drawers, down on her knees, throwing clothes behind her like a dog throws dirt when digging for a bone.

Her mom said, “Slow down, honey, I know you’re excited but we’ll find the perfect outfit.”

Billy stood dumbfounded in his sister’s doorway. He knocked on the door so they would notice him.

“Hello. Hello?” he said. No response. “Hello?”

“Oh, hi Billy,” said his mom. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Justine stood up and twirled around.

“How about the denim skirt?” she asked. She was practically giggling.

“You’ve outgrown that,” said her mom.

“Let me see,” said Justine.

She flew to the closet and pulled it out. Holding it in front of her, she alternately searched for her mother’s approval and then Billy’s. Before they could say anything, though, she said, “I’ll go in your room, mom, and try it on. You’ve got a better mirror.”

She brushed past Billy and slammed her parents’ door behind her. Carol plopped herself down on Justine’s bed and blew the hair out of her eyes.

“You’ll never guess what happened today, Billy.”

“What?” he asked.

“Some boy asked Justine out on a date!”

“You’re kidding.”

“Shush. She might hear you.”

Carol got up and closed Justine’s door until it was almost shut. As she spoke, she started putting Justine’s clothes back in her dresser. She radiated a nervous excitement.

“He’s a new boy in town,” she said. “He just moved here. They met buying Slurpees at the Quickcheck. Justine said that they got to talking and he asked her if she wanted to see a movie tonight. He called her just now and told her that his mom would drive them. They’ll be here at 6:45.”

Billy grimaced and walked over to the bed. He picked up one of Justine’s dresses, shaking his head, and held it out to his mother.

“Aren’t you happy for your sister?” asked his mother, taking the dress.

“Mom,” said Billy, not sure he should air his feelings and spoil the moment. “Do you think this is such a good idea?”

Carol’s face grew stern and questioning. She grabbed a hanger that was lying on the bed, and spoke in a whisper. “She’s a little young for dating but she has no friends, and how can I say no? Don’t you think Justine deserves a night out? I would think you’d be excited for her.”

“Mom, please,” said Billy. “It’s going to blow up. Can’t you see that? Do you think she can handle a date? It’s going to be a disaster.”

“For heaven’s sake, Billy,” said his mom. “Have a little more faith in your sister.” But Billy could see the doubt in her eyes. “Now here, hang up this dress.”

Justine rushed into the room, and threw the skirt on the bed. “You’re right. It’s too small. I’ll try this.”

She snatched the yellow dress Carol had handed Billy out of his hands – hanger and all -- and ran back into her parents’ room, closing the door. Billy had never seen her so happy. Part of him thought it was nice, but mostly he felt uneasy.

“He’s a new boy in town,” said Carol. “He knows nothing about her history. He only sees her as she is now. The other kids can’t get past some of the crazy things she used to do. This is like a brand new start.”

“The things she used to do?” asked Billy.

“She’s calmer now,” said Carol. “And she’s been on her best behavior lately. She’s really trying. Maybe the threat of going back on that medication was the kind of a slap that made her come to her senses.”

“Like at Big Charlie’s?”

“She’s been fine since then,” said his mother.

Billy rubbed the back of his neck. Clearly, his mom was trying to convince herself. Was she really that delusional?

“OK,” he said. “But why is she wearing a dress to go to a movie? Girls don’t wear dresses anymore.”

“Shouldn’t she look nice on a date?”

“Maybe in the 1950s,” said Billy, “but if she gets all dressed up, she’ll look, well, kind of dorky.”

Justine flew into the room wearing her yellow dress, and struck a few poses. She was clearly ecstatic. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?” she asked.

The dress was almost neon bright with shoulder straps and a hemline halfway to her knees. The fabric had tiny pink polka-dots that were barely visible. Billy was surprised to see what a good figure his sister had, but the dress just did not look like something a high school girl would wear.

“Oh, Justine,” her mom gasped.

“What?”

She stood in front of her mother with her knees slightly turned into each other, biting on the nails of fingers on both hands. Her eyebrows were raised halfway up her forehead, desperate for approval.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Put your hands down,” said Carol. “And straighten up.” She eyed her daughter lovingly. “You look beautiful, Justine. Simply beautiful.”

“Really?” she squealed.

“Radiant,” said her mother.

Justine ran back into her parents’ room to admire her reflection and than hurried back.

“Can I wear lipstick?” she asked.

Billy caught his mother’s attention with his eyes, and mouthed the word “no”.

“Well,” she hesitated. “Since it is your first date…OK, you can.”

“Thank you, mom, thank you!” She ran over and gave her mother a hug.

“Here,” said her mother. “You can use mine.”

“Justine,” said Billy, “Girls don’t wear lipstick anymore. It’s the 70s.”

“Well, I do,” said Justine.

‘Fine,’ thought Billy, as he climbed the steps to his room. “But he’s going to think she’s a nerd or a dork or a Barbie Doll or something,” he muttered to himself, plodding up the stairs.

Billy changed out of his work clothes and put The Riders of the Purple Sage on the stereo. He lay in bed listening to them sing ‘Mexicali Rose’. It was kid of a cross between rock and country music, but it wasn’t like that Loretta Lynn stuff.
‘What the hell am I going to do all night,’ he thought. He knew the gang was assembling down at the frisbee field, and he was missing it. For cryin’ out loud, even Mitchell was probably there. Billy thought about jerking off but he was too tired, or maybe too disinterested.

When his father got home, Billy was called down to dinner. At least he could eat. His mother was making scrambled eggs.

“Eggs?” he asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t have time to cook. I was helping Justine.”

His mother was at her usual place by the stove. His dad was sitting at the table beaming at Justine who was standing in the middle of the room, modeling her dress. She had lipstick on and her hair was piled up on top of her head. It was held in place by some kind of giant barrette that was the same color pink as the polka dots on her dress.

“You look lovely,” said her dad.

“You think so?” asked Justine, wringing her hands.

“Gorgeous. You’ll knock him dead,” he said. “You almost look too good, to tell you the truth.”

“Oh, Dad!” she giggled.

“Billy, set the table,” said his mom.

Billy thought about protesting the unfairness of her request. It would only seem like sour grapes on the night of Justine’s big date, though, so he went to the cabinet and started pulling down the plates.

“Excuse me,” he said, attempting to get around Justine. His tone was full of exasperation. “I’m trying to set the table.”

“Do you think I should eat?” asked Justine. “I don’t want to get my dress dirty.”

“Just be careful,” said her mom.

Billy got the cups, having to sidestep Justine yet again. She didn’t move and was still in his way when he went for the silverware.

“I said, excuse me. I’m trying to set the table.”

Justine ignored him. He sucked on his lip and noisily fished out the forks and knives, slamming the drawer.

“Time to eat!” said his mom. “Billy, you forgot the napkins.”
Billy dragged himself back to the cabinet as if he were carrying the weight of the world. He grabbed a handful of napkins and then folded them with exaggerated neatness. His parents ignored him, and Billy took his place with the others and started to eat. Justine was so happy she was almost manic.

“So do you like my dress, Daddy?”

“It’s lovely,” said Frank.

Billy stopped eating and poured himself a glass of Coke.

“Why is she wearing a dress to go to a movie, anyway?” he asked.

“Don’t you like my dress?” asked Justine, tensing up.

Frank shot his son a deadly gaze.

“It’s not that, Justine. It’s a great dress.”

She relaxed but kept her focus on Billy. He continued, all eyes upon him. “It’s just that, well, you’re really dressed up. Most kids who go to a movie don’t get all dressed up. They go in jeans and a T-shirt.”

“But I want to look nice.”

“Leave her alone,” said Frank. “She looks great.”

“I didn’t say she didn’t,” protested Billy.

They ate quickly and then Justine ran to the bathroom to check her hair. Billy cleared the table and his dad started washing the dishes. His mother swept the floor, while Justine sat perched by the front window, eagerly awaiting her date.

“Where is he, mom?” she asked, nervously.

“It’s only 6:30, Justine. Relax.”

They finished cleaning and joined Justine in the living room.

‘I have to see this guy,’ thought Billy. He sat on the edge of the couch. His mom was next to Justine, holding her hand. His dad assumed his usual position in the recliner.

Justine jumped up. “I’m going to fix my lipstick,” she said.

“Sit back down and relax,” said her mother. “You look fine.”

“I’m going to check it. Keep looking for him. His name is Marty. Don’t leave.”

She ran to the bathroom. Billy retrieved an apple from the kitchen and sat back down on the couch. He removed the little sticker which imparted the vital information confirming that what he held in his hand was indeed an apple, and took a bite.

“Do you think this is going to work?” he asked.

“Shush,” said his mother. “She’ll hear you.”

“They’ll be at the movies,” said his father. “It’ll be fine. They’ll hardly even talk. And the boy’s mother is driving, right? That means he doesn’t have a license. How old can he be? She’ll be all right.”

“Justine said he was going to be a sophomore,” said Carol.

“If he were any older I would think twice about letting her go,” said Frank.

“But he’s not,” said Carol. “And hush!”

Justine emerged from the bathroom with a wadded tissue in her hands. “Is he here? Is he here?”

“Not yet, honey,” said her mom.

“Why isn’t he here?”

“It’s only 6:45.”

“That’s when he was supposed to be here!”

Frank pulled himself out of his chair and walked over to his daughter. He put his arm around her, and lifter her chin with his index finger. She stayed tense and stiff.

“Nobody’s right on time,” he said. “Relax. He’ll be here. Sit down. We’ll all wait with you.”

Justine sat with her face pressed against the window. He parents exchanged nervous smiles. It was good to see her so excited. They hoped she would stay that way.

“Here comes a car!” she yelled.

Billy looked up. The beam from the headlights come down the street and for an instant shone directly in their front window. He actually felt a surge of excitement rise in himself, but then the lights passed the house and moved on. Frank went back to his chair.

“I guess that’s not him,” Justine said. Then she shot up. “Or maybe that is him and he missed the house. Should I go outside and run after him?”

“No, dear,” said Carol. “If that was them they’ll come back.”

“What time is it now?” asked Justine.

“It’s 6:51,” said Frank, “and forty-three seconds.”

He tried to sound amused but Billy sensed a hint of concern. A few more minutes went by. Another car passed the house but it was also a false alarm.

“Maybe he got in an accident,” said Justine.

She was pacing back and forth now. The wadded tissue was disintegrating in her hand. Carol bent over to pick up a few pieces that had fallen on the carpet.

“Where can he be? Why doesn’t he call?” She turned abruptly to her father. “Now what time is it?”

Frank leaned forward. “It’s 7:10. It’s not that late, Justine.”

“You’d think he’d call if he was going to be late,” mumbled Carol. She peered out the window up towards the intersection.

“What if we miss the movie?” asked Justine, starting to panic. “What then?”

“If you miss the movie,” said Billy. “You can get ice cream or something.”

“That’s not a real date,” yelled Justine.

“Sure it is,” said Billy.

“No it’s not!”

“Billy, please,” said Carol. “Justine, honey, come here and calm down. He’s not that late. Your dad kept me waiting by the window plenty of times when we were dating.”

“That’s because I had that wreck of a car,” said Frank with what Billy thought was a pathetic chuckle. He wasn’t fooling anybody.

Carol tried to physically comfort Justine by taking her hand and stroking her hair, but Justine only pushed her away and went back to the bathroom to adjust her barrette.

“Now, now,” said Carol, calling after her. “The important thing is not where you go but who you go with.”

“What time is it now?” asked Justine, coming back into the room. She walked past her mother to the other window and stared out.

“It’s 7:15,” said Frank. “Do you have the boy’s phone number?”

“No,” said Justine. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask him. Why didn’t I ask him?” She hit her thighs with her fists.

“Don’t worry,” said Carol. “He’ll come.”

“He damn well better,” said Frank.

“You mean you think he won’t?” asked Justine, horrified. “What time is it?”
“Stop asking the time every two minutes,” said Carol.

“What time is it?” Justine yelled. “I want to know what time it is!” Her arms flailed. Her eyes started to water.

“It’s 7:18,” said Frank. “Just calm down.”

Billy left the room. He couldn’t take it. He went upstairs and put on some more music, but he kept one eye on the window. After awhile, though, he stopped getting up when a pair of headlights came down the street. He sat on the edge of his bed with his eyes shut, praying that the boy would show up soon.

The clock on his dresser said 8:30. He braced himself and tramped down the stairs and into the living room. Justine sat on the couch next to her mother. She was very still. There were dried tear marks on her face, which was pale, and her hair was starting to become undone. Her eyes were vacant. She looked like a roughed up mannequin. A mannequin in a pretty yellow dress with faint pink polka dots and lipstick. The tissue – or what was left of it – was still in her hand. Carol stroked her back.

“I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation,” she said.

Billy felt sick. He knew it was going to end badly but not like this. He went looking for his father and found him sitting on Justine’s bed holding a unicorn. He, too, had been crying.

“I hope to hell,” said Frank, “That that boy – that little son of a bitch – got in an accident or lost her number or something. Did you see how happy she was? Damn! That child can’t get a break.”

Billy joined his father on the bed. They sat in silence for a few moments. Billy checked his watch.

“Don’t bother,” said his dad.

“It sucks,” said Billy.

“You’d think that girl deserves one happy night in her life.”

“I don’t get it,” said Billy. “Why did he ask her out and then not show up?”

“Because he’s a bastard.”

Billy returned to the living room. He stood by his sister. She seemed so frail. He couldn’t fathom how she dealt with the rejection and the humiliation that the other kids heaped upon her. And now this new boy.

“I’m sorry, Justine,” he said. “Look, either something happened to him or the guy is a big, fat jerk.”

“What time is it?” she asked. He voice was thin and weak. It quivered.

Carol looked at her watch. “It’s almost nine o’clock. Do you want to change out of your dress?”

“Maybe he’ll still come,” she said. She sounded like a ghost.

Carol and Billy waited with her. Billy didn’t know what else to say, and it seemed cruel, somehow, to leave her there, even if his mom was next to her.
At around 11 o’clock Carol fell asleep. Billy followed suit shortly thereafter. The last thing he saw before nodding off was Justine sitting motionless in her yellow dress, with her pink barrette and dried tears, staring out the window.