Chapter Fifteen

“So, one day, my father catches me dressed in my mother’s church clothes parading in front of the bathroom mirror. He beat me to a pulp, leaving me for dead. It was the last time I ever saw that sick bastard.”

Penny’s horrific life story can only be heard with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. There are parts that had me in stitches and others that made me want to wring the neck of the man who brought her into this world.

We have been sitting at the bar, playing a game of ‘let’s take turns telling our tragic stories’ followed by a strong shot of tequila.

“Okay, my turn,” I slur.

Penny enjoys being asked questions, unlike me.

“So, what exactly is happening down south? Do you like men or women?”

A laugh escapes her mouth, almost spilling a peanut she’s eating. “Don’t have the money to get frankenweenie chopped off, and I’m all about the man.” She slides closer to me before grabbing my forearm and laughing off her comment. “Sweetie, you’re drop-dead gorgeous, and I’m certain that any woman who’s been near your ding-dong has been sat… tis… fied.” She clicks her fingers, then gracefully pours more tequila into her glass.

“Penny, I’m all about the pussy. No offense.” I chuckle.

“Sweetie, no offense taken, but if you need a good whack up your backside, you know where to find me.”

The thought made me squirm in pain, not pleasure. I wonder if Eric would be interested. For God’s sake, Julian, don’t play gay matchmaker. That’s such a chick thing to do.

Curbing my curiosity, I ask the question that’s been bugging me for days. “So, what the hell is up with you and Jerry?”

“Urgh, he’s such an immature little brat who needs a sitting in the naughty corner to think about his actions,” she complains.

“What’s his story?”

“I’m not certain on the details, only what Fred has told me. He was beaten by his brothers when he was younger. Happened for years, and apparently, they would make him lie to his parents that kids in the neighborhood were doing it. The sick thing was that they would do it in front of other kids to show off. Kinda like a bet.” She slams a shot of tequila down, wincing as it burns her throat. “So, one day he was so badly hurt that he was rushed to the hospital. He told his parents everything, but they refused to believe him, so when he was twelve or something, he ran away to live on the streets.”

“That’s fucked up. How old is he?” I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Jerry after Penny’s tell-all story.

“I think he’s like twenty.”

“He looks so much older,” I wondered out loud.

“The streets will do that to you. Okay, enough serious talk, are you up for some fun?” she asks with a devilish grin on her face.

“Sure, Penny Tration, lead the way.”

We’re sitting at a table with Hazel and a room full of people playing bingo. The last time I played this game was probably in the eighties with my grandparents and their old-folk friends at the nursing home. The only thing that changes is that I’m now full of tequila. Bingo and tequila equal a very entertaining Thursday night. Unlike me, Penny holds her liquor without too much drama. When she yells out bingo, I burst out into a fit of laughter causing everyone to turn and look at me. I’m not sure what’s so funny, but I can’t stop, and it isn’t long before Penny and Hazel join in, which only adds to the hilarity of the situation.

***

“So, let me get this straight, you were out all night drinking tequila and playing bingo with a drag queen?” Tristan questions, scratching his head in confusion.

“I never said ‘drag queen’!” I yell defensively.

“Okay, tranny, then?”

“I don’t know, I probably should’ve asked when it was appropriate to ask,” I admit.

“When is it ever an appropriate time to ask that question?” Tristan snickers.

Sitting up from the couch, my head is ready to explode. “When you’re playing truth and on your tenth shot of tequila. Anyway, what the hell are you doing here?”

I didn’t notice it earlier, but Tristan has two Starbucks cups sitting on the table. I grab one and take a sip, hoping it will cure my pounding head. Mmm… fresh coffee.

“Eric’s gone to New York for a few days, so I thought why not spend time with my favorite uncle!” He cheers.

“I’m your only uncle,” I point out.

“And a great one at that.” A cheesy grin is plastered on his face. Not immune to his buffoonery, I shake my head with a smile.

“Aw shucks, kid, nice spiel. Now, what do you want?”

“Nothing.” He smirks.

“Okay, so what’s been happening at Eric’s?”

Tristan’s shoulders perk up like a meerkat on watch. “What do you mean? Nothing’s happening.”

“Geez, don’t bite my head off. I’m merely asking how things are going,” I huff.

“Sorry. Good. Great. Um… it’s fine. Eric is busy a lot with work and stuff.”

“Sure. I know when he worked in New York for Charlie, they were inundated with new clients. LA must definitely have its share of work with all the celebrity shit that goes on around here.”

“Yeah, he tends to come home late and is such a bitch when he’s tired. Take, for instance, last night… I cook this awesome meal, and all he does is complain that he has a headache and then goes straight to bed. I slaved over that meal for hours,” he complains.

“You sound like a married couple,” I say casually.

“Wh… why would you say that?” He stumbles on his words.

“Because you sound like a married couple… lighten up, kid. Eric has his own life. Don’t forget that you’re living under his roof.”

Tristan stays for the next hour before leaving to attend an audition for some infomercial. It’s for some crazy device that cooks meals in less than two minutes. It’s laughable, but being a great uncle, I wish him luck.

Again, I find myself alone, anxiously waiting for a response from Mr. Grimmer. If I don’t hear anything by the end of the week, I’m going to take the initiative and contact him. This limbo feeling is getting old.

Thursday rolls around, and before I know it, I’m back sitting in the circle of troubles.

Everyone is here, chatting away about last night’s episode of Survivor, from who is deemed as playing the game to who’s making alliances. It’s a light-hearted conversation, and even Hazel joins in, not caring the topic has swayed into reality television instead of the power of healing.

Trying my best to stay in the conversation, I anxiously wait for mystery girl to turn up. It’s already half an hour into our meeting and nothing. I figure she’s given up, perhaps it got too hard. That thought scares me, the harm she could do to herself.

Tonight, Penny opens up about her past, her attempts to contact her family with no luck, life on the streets, and her take on how people react to her lifestyle. It’s heartbreaking to hear the pain and ridicule she endures almost every day, yet she has the strongest backbone out of anyone I have ever met. She may have been beaten physically, but mentally, she’s as tough as nails.

During her confession about falling in love with a married man, the door creaks, and a body slips through, taking a seat at the back.

Mystery girl.

My eyes wander of their own accord, my brain following like a lost puppy. Today, she’s wearing a T-shirt which reads, ‘I Like Boys That Sparkle.’

Great, one of those vampire-loving chicks.

Her arms are visible, no jacket or sleeves to cover the scars and cuts. She is very pale, odd for living in California, but maybe she isn’t a native or one of those folks who claims they never tan like albinos.

Her fiery red hair is covering her eyes as she continues to bow her head. Scanning the rest of her, I stop at a shiny piece of gold which catches my attention. Nestled on her left hand is a gold band. She’s married.

Time to back the fuck up. I turn away to clear my mind of the ray of thoughts swirling around. It’s not like I’m here to score, so who cares that she’s married? What you feel is just genuine concern for someone other than yourself. Her scars are laid bare for all of us to see. What caused them is now piquing your curiosity. That’s all.

Penny’s loud voice distracts me. “Let’s call him ‘Mr. X.’ So, we were seeing each other for about six months. I thought he was the one. He was confused, I understood that. Pushed into a life he didn’t want, married, two-point-four children, white picket fence, drove a Prius.”

“A Prius?” Jerry sneers.

“Uh-huh. Like I was saying, he was living this double life. So, one day, he tells me he’s leaving all that for me. What’s a girl to think? I was over the moon! We had picked out an apartment to rent. He even started bringing things over, and then one day, he vanished.”

Fred leans over and pats Penny on the back. “I tried to find him, and according to everyone, he had left town with his family. A year later, I ran into him at the airport, random fluke. He was there with his family and pregnant wife. I was still hurting. Why me? Wasn’t I good enough?” Penny cries.

Hazel hands Penny a box of tissues as the tears stream down her face. Perhaps her strength was masking her weakness. Her sobs are loud, ugly cries.

“Have you thought for a moment how you played a role in ruining this sanctity of marriage?” The voice comes from mystery girl.

She speaks and sounds like she’s ready to go to war.

“Of course, but honey, a man tells you he loves you, you take those words to heart. Sometimes your heart won’t see or care about anyone else,” Penny defends herself.

“Well, even though he’s a right prick, he should be thanking his lucky stars he still has his family,” mystery girl states angrily. She lowers her head, her words barely audible. “I wonder every day why he was taken from us. I wonder if there’s anything I could’ve done to keep him alive. When I look at my son, I wonder if he feels the pain I do. Sometimes I think I’m healing, but then something happens… his song comes on the radio, someone walks past me with the same hair color. Or even that stupid baby soap ad that comes on where the family is hugging it out.”

The group is quiet, allowing her to voice her feelings.

“That baby soap commercial gets me every time,” Fred confesses.

Jerry and Penny nod in unison.

She tugs on her shirt to hide the nerves. “What family does my son have? How can a family be just a mother?”

Hazel speaks up, “Family isn’t defined by a dad, a mom, and a child. Family is a feeling, not a status. When I lost Richard and George, I asked the same exact question.”

“Why didn’t you remarry or have more children?” mystery girl questions Hazel.

“I was in my early forties, and having more children wasn’t really in the cards for me. As for marriage? I’ve dated other men. In fact, I’ve been together with Miles for almost four years now.”

“And you don’t want to marry him?” Clearly, mystery girl has found her voice.

“Miles and I have a great relationship as it is. He lost his wife to breast cancer a few years back. He has two daughters who I love dearly. For us, we enjoy what we have today. Marriage is sacred, and we took those vows with people who are no longer here. I do love Miles as he loves me.”

It’s like a vault is being opened, and the questions and curiosity are laid on the table eager to get some sort of answer.

“Do you get jealous when he talks about his wife? I just don’t get it. I never want to stop talking about my husband. He was my life… he is my life,” mystery girl corrects herself.

“Oh, dear, no. We love to talk about our great loves. It’s a part of keeping the memory alive. I’ve spent a lot of time with his wife’s family and enjoy hearing all the wonderful stories. She was a remarkable woman, and I know why Miles loved her dearly. When I see Miles’ face light up talking about her, it makes me complete. She’ll always be a part of him, and she brings out the best of him. Makes him the person he is today. Understanding the roles people play or played in our lives gives us a sense of comfort and sometimes closure on events that are beyond our control.”

Hazel walks over to the girl and puts her hand out. The girl is scared, holding back, but soon places her hand in Hazel’s and follows her to our circle where she takes a seat beside her.

I continue to watch her because something is nagging me, this feeling of familiarity, and wracking my brain is getting me nowhere. The group continues to talk about a field trip next Saturday. I pay absolutely no attention because mystery girl is watching me. She continues to stare at me, her bleak eyes shadowed by dark circles. Her eyebrows rise slightly as we continue this game of curiosity.

Around us, everyone stands. I say goodbye, breaking my gaze.

Penny is warning Hazel about her fear of roosters and how if we see one on the field trip, she may piss in her pants—her words, not mine.

“Julian.” The voice is beside me, she’s so close, her scent of sweet candy lingers around us.

“Yes, nice to meet you… uh?” I extend my hand as a polite gesture, hoping she introduces herself.

“What’s wrong, Batman? Cat got your tongue?”

“Okay, you got me there. You look familiar, but hey, my mind could be playing tricks on me. No point hiding the obvious in this group.”

“It’s like one big fucked-up family in here,” she states.

“Yeah, but it kinda makes me feel normal.” I wait eagerly, and after only a few moments, she extends her hand and shakes mine.

“Adriana,” she says.

“Nice to meet you, Adria—” I cut myself off mid-sentence. “Adriana Edwards?”

“Was, now Evans,” she corrects me.

I pull my hand away abruptly, the weight of her identity throwing me into a panic. I mumble something about having to go somewhere before leaving the room in a rush, and I mean a Roadrunner-on-steroids kind of rush back home.

Adriana Evans.

Charlie’s best friend.

Lex’s sister.

Mystery girl is finally revealed.

Standing in front of my building, I look up into the sky, attempting to communicate with the universe. Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck are you trying to do? The purpose of this group is to forget and move on, but no, you throw someone else into the mix to test me beyond my capability. So, she’s off-limits, not that I’m looking for my soul mate at this meeting.

Just stay away from her. You can do this.

I’m so fucking screwed any way I turn. I need to let off steam, something to distract me from this bullshit excuse of a life I’m dealt.

Taking out my cell, I dial her number.

“Hey, doll, booty call?” she teases.

“Bingo call?” I answer, defeated.

“Oh, sweetie, that bad? Be there in ten.”

I hang up and walk down the road to the bingo hall, hoping Penny will kick my ass and make me forget about my encounter with Adriana Evans.