11. Just Friends

CHAPTER 11

JUST FRIENDS

AMY WINEHOUSE

I don’t miss Chase Cooper. I can’t.

He left over a week ago, but he refuses to give me a chance to even start to miss him. Flowers and food show up at my door or my classroom. He calls me when he wakes up and talks to me until I fall asleep every night he can. I wake up to a text from him every morning. I try to tell him to go out and have fun, to not worry about me, to go meet someone crazy and exotic. Yet every night his name comes up on my phone.

I thought it would suffocate me to have someone call me every day and night. I thought I’d want more space, more room to be myself, but Chase cracked the code. Giving me enough room to breathe even when he’s clingy. It’s a strange juxtaposition that I could get used to under different circumstances. Even so, how could it ever work between us? Me lugging computer parts and broken robots around while he’s with his stylist being fitted for a tux to accept his Oscar? That’s not the way life works. Not for me.

But I can’t stop the what ifs from creeping into my brain. What if we gave this a try? What if we filled our nights with movie premieres and lavish parties? What if I wake up and drag myself into class while he’s in front of a camera? What if I took off during spring break and allowed him to whisk me across Europe and dote on me? What if we built a functional relationship built on trust and love instead of the cruelty and ownership I knew before?

Sitting in traffic gives me way too long to daydream about a happy life with him. It also doesn’t help that my sister gets to spend time with him at an Italian countryside winery next week while I’m stuck at a school function with Mr. Miley. Not fair. Dani’s boyfriend will be there, but it’s still not fair. Steve and Ethan, their mutual friends, are getting married in some beautiful, scenic, expensive destination wedding. The most I’ve traveled is to Mexico to visit family. The squeal of someone’s horn pulls me out of my daydream. Bastard.

That’s me, Renate Silva, daydreaming of castles, but stuck in a beat-up car in Los Angeles traffic.

When I’m finally home, I lug the box of papers and the day’s flower delivery out of my car. Someday, we’ll go digital with homework, but we’re still not there yet. I leave the flowers by the door and trudge through the house, heaving the box onto the kitchen table. I put on the kettle and change into more comfortable clothes, but just as I settle in with the first paper, the doorbell rings. I’m half tempted to ignore it, but it could be a neighbor.

“Hi!” The woman at the door greets me with far too much enthusiasm and I’m ready to shut the door in her face. She’s white with big, blonde hair and an orange spray tan. I’m waiting for the religious pitch that’s about to come my way, which always makes me laugh. We live in a Hispanic neighborhood full of Catholics, but these crazies still try. “Are you Mrs. Silva?”

My foot slides behind the door to make it harder for her to push her way in if she tries. I’ve had a few parents come to my house before, and not to thank me. Working as a teacher has become a little scary over the past few years when parents stopped seeing us as educators and mistook us for babysitters. In the minds of parents, we should pick up their slack for their child’s poor grades when they’re not bothering to put in any of the work it takes to be a parent. It used to be the rich parents that caused the problems, but now the poor families blame us, too.

“Mrs. Silva isn’t home right now. You are?” I reply in a blunt tone while pushing my glasses up my face.

“Oh, well, I’m Rachel Wexell. I work for a local magazine—” She glances down at something on her phone. “Oh, my mistake. You’re Ms . Silva, right? Ms. Renate Silva?” She slaughters my first name, pronouncing it Raynawtay , which I’m used to. I curse my father in my head, knowing he’s watching and laughing.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

“Right to the point! Well, I’m not selling anything, if that helps to ease this tension. We’d like to interview you about your…class.” She looks at her phone to reference what I assume must be notes before flashing her too bright smile. “You’re the teacher, right? The technology and computer sciences teacher for Hollywood Tech and Arts?”

“How did you get my address and who do you work for again?”

“Oh, I’m not at liberty to say,” her thick southern accent slips a little, and so does her smile. I glance down, noticing her foot tucked inside my doorway. She’s done this before, too. “We wanted to do a story about you and the smart boards, do you know who donated them?”

“Some rich lady who died?”

“Ms. Silva, I’ll just be blunt here. There’s a rumor you’re dating Chase Cooper.”

“Who?”

“Chase Cooper. The actor? Trusted sources say you two are romantically linked and the smart boards were a… uhm, a romantic gesture or possibly, well, payment for?—”

“ Trusted sources ?” I scoff. There’s nothing trustworthy about her sources. “The principal, I assume? You may want to check that source again since he’s only after attention.” If she worked for a newspaper, I would tell her everything about Miley, but I don’t believe she does. She’s after a scoop on Chase, and she’s come to the wrong house for that. “I’m flattered that Mr. Miley thinks I could get a guy like Charles Clarke.”

“Cooper. Chase Cooper,” she snaps, losing her composure for a moment. “Brown hair, tall, blue eyes? Stars in action movies?”

“Is he the one that drives the fast cars in those machismo movies? Or the one that sings and dances, too?”

“So, the flowers?” She nods to the bouquet I forgot to bring in the house.

Shit. Think fast, Ren.

“Ohhhhh. My ex. He’s been trying to get back together with me for weeks. He’s a little dramatic since he found out about the alimony. I warned him not to leave her panties in my laundry again, but he didn’t listen.”

“Right, okay, the ex.” She’s getting frustrated and having trouble staying in character. Such a fake. “And the sighting at the school? You were seen with him.”

“With who? Oh, some Hollywood guy visited campus the other day. Maybe it was this… what did you say again? Chip Chambers?”

“CHASE!” she spits back. “Chase. Cooper.”

“Never heard of him. I’m more of a reader.”

“Fine,” she huffs, shoving her phone back into her large purse. I don’t feel bad for being a pain in her ass. These damn paparazzi will try anything—it’s disgusting. “Sorry to bother you.”

She turns to leave, but as she gets to the step, she stops and glares at me. It’s unsettling.

“I hope you’re not lying to me, but either way, you should stay away from Chase Cooper. For your own good.”

I’m tempted to respond, but that’s what she wants. Instead, I smile, nod, and shut the door before my eyes roll back in my head. I wish she had come out and said it Miley had sent her. That would give me a reason to go after his dumb ass. I’ll deal with that later. I’m about to push off the door when there’s another knock. I spin around and fling the door open.

“Lady, I don’t—” I stop and scream with delight as my cousin holds out her arms and I jump into them. “Oh my god, come inside, quick! There’s this crazy white lady around here who thinks I’m dating Chase Cooper.”

“Shit, well, I hope you didn’t bring him here if you are. She’s down the street talking to Mrs. Rosa. That woman would sell out her own kids for a dollar.” Terasa looks around as she steps inside. “Wow, you’ve redecorated!”

“We did?” I glance around at a living room that’s sat unchanged for ten years.

“The place looks so much better without that asshole Luis around.” She breaks her straight face and cackles like a wild woman. While wiping the tears from her eyes, she asks, “Where’s Dani and your mom?”

“Mom’s with her new beau. Dani has a rehearsal for a gig. Pizza and gossip?” I avoid her comments about my ex. He’s not worth talking about, and she’s right anyhow. The house does look better without him in it.

I haven’t seen Teresa for at least a year, but we stay in touch enough to send each other memes every few days as proof of life. Before we can order, my phone lights up on the coffee table and Chase’s cheesy grin looks up at me. I snatch the phone up and hope she didn’t see the picture or the name.

Snuggle Puppy

Am I allowed to miss you? Like, casually or whatever?

“ Snuggle Puppy ?” she gives me the stare that says she’s onto me then breaks down laughing. “Not dating my ass! Spill the damn tea. Do you love him? When’s the wedding?”

“What?” I yell, exaggeratedly. “It’s not—it’s the…plumber.” I hand her my credit card so she can finish the food order.

“Yeah, Snuggle Puppy, the plumber who needs to talk to you about laying pipes! Please!”

“Oh, hush!” I tease as my thumbs dance over the letters.

No! You should be out having fun. Hooking up with beautiful movie people.

Snuggle Puppy

They’re not as fun as you. I should fly you out here right now.

Are you drunk?

Snuggle Puppy

Maybe.

Yes

Can I call you?

Could I even stop you?

I’m giggling like an idiot as I walk across the room to answer, Teresa still teasing me.

“You don’t really want me to fuck someone else, do you?” He slurs, more than a hint of sadness in the words.

“I do, Chase. It would be good for you!” I whisper as my cousin eyes me with a knowing smirk.

“No, you don’t. Don’t say that.”

“I want you to find someone right now and take them back to your room.”

“You’re not here. Come on, Ren. Don’t be mad. Please?”

“I’m not mad, I’m worried about you. You’re drunk and should go to bed. What time is it there?”

“I’m tipsy. It’s somewhere around too fucking early in the morning. So, good morning, beautiful! How are you? Did you get my package?”

“I did,” I answer as I duck into the kitchen. I want to be frustrated with him, but the butterflies in my stomach have other plans. “Mama almost threw it away. We’ve never gotten a package from Germany.”

“Never? Aww. Send me a picture so I can decide if you’re getting a few more packages from Germany, or if I need to send someone over to Paris to pick up something else. Something a little less lacy and more strappy?”

“Do you frequently send women you barely know expensive underwear?”

“No! Only one smokin’ hot teacher who will look fucking delicious in them. And out of them.”

“Chase—”

“Will you wear them when I get home? I want to rip them off you with my teeth. I’ll buy you more. Did I mention I miss you? In a friendly way?”

“Chase Cooper, you are not going to buy me expensive lingerie only to tear it off me.”

“I’m not? Are you sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure I already did. Show me?”

“I have a friend over and I’m not getting caught sending you a panty shot.”

“So you are wearing them! We should do a video call.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable!” I can’t even pretend to be mad at him. He’s too damn cute about the whole situation.

“Yeah, but you like it.”

“Okay,” I giggle. “Get some sleep and I’ll call you in a few hours. Okay? I have to go. My cousin thinks I’m talking to a plumber!”

“A plumber? I can get a tool belt from the set and have you bent over the sink while I stick ? —”

“Chase!”

“I mean, sure, text me when you’re free again and I’ll call as soon as I can, bestie. Or as soon as I wake up. I think I’m gonna pass out soon.” He doesn’t sound disappointed, which makes me feel a little better about rushing him off the phone. “Hey, uhm, I’m serious, you know? I miss you.”

“Yeah.” I bite back the smile, but can’t stop the heat from rushing across my face. “I miss you, too.”

“You do?! As friends and all, right? Or whatever. Hey, when I get back, I want to take you out somewhere.” His words slur together again and I catch the yawn. “I’ll tell you about it later. You’ll love it. Pluto… Plato… Platonically. Not a date. We don’t even have to bang after, I promise. But we should because you’re hot.”

“Go get some sleep,” I giggle. The feeling of belonging comes back, a comfortable ease I have when talking with him. I wish I understood it and how his words can touch my soul. It makes me want to say things I don’t mean. “I’ll talk to you about it later, Puppy. Goodnight.”

“Okay, goodnight Sunshine. Don’t forget to text me!”

“So?” Teresa asks with a side glance when I walk back into the room. “Girl, you’re about as red as a damn tomato. Spill it now, or I’ll go to Dani for the details.”

“We kind of ran into each other at the school, and he took me out to dinner. Which turned into two days at his house, snuggling and watching movies while he followed me around like a lost puppy dog. It was adorable—and different.”

“Different good? No, never mind, I have a better question. Does he treat you right?”

“Flowers and lunch almost daily since he left for his trip. He cooked for me instead of telling me I could lose a few pounds. He tells me I’m beautiful all the time.”

“And?”

“He crawled to me on the first night,” my face scrunches up in embarrassment.

“Jackpot!” She kicks her feet in the air and screams. “How long have you been dating? Why didn’t you call me? How big is his dick?”

“We’re not dating and you don’t even like dick.”

“What? Why aren’t you dating?”

“Because Chase and I are just enjoying each other’s company. I don’t need that kind of hassle and extra bullshit right now.”

She rolls her eyes, then leans toward me and her voice drops to a soft, secretive tone even though we’re alone in the house. “Have you told him about your thing?” She moves her arm in a whipping motion.

I can’t hold back the laugh I bark out. “Ma’am, you are forty years old and can’t even ask me if I tie his pretty white ass up and spank him.” I watch her face flush before she covers it with her hands, laughing. “Now who’s red like a tomato? Yes, he knows, and that’s as far as I’m taking this conversation. It’s nothing serious, no labels.”

“Alright, alright. You keep on lying to yourself with that bullshit, but alright.”

We talk about our lives in different cities while we share a pizza and some mozzarella sticks, like when we were kids. She tells me about her wife’s new job and how much the kids are loving the snow in Chicago. We don’t realize how late it’s gotten until we hear the car door. A few minutes pass before Mama comes barreling into the house, frazzled and arms full of bags.

“Everything okay?”

“I’m fine!” She shoots back.

“Okay, so why the hell are you charging in here like a bull on fire?” I stand to go peek out the window, curious about who drove her home and what could have her so riled up, but my car sits alone in the driveway. “Mama, did something happen at the senior center?”

“No, everything is fine. I told you.” She doesn’t even stop to say hello to Teresa on her way to the back of the house. Theresa and I exchange a glare.

“You want to put on the kettle while I try to talk to her?” I ask Teresa, and she nods. Anyone else would leave. But Teresa is family, which means she knows how hard-headed and hot-tempered my mother can be sometimes. I’m just like her in so many ways.

“Mama?”

She spins around before she reaches her curtained doorway. Her words cut deeper than any knife as she yells, “I don’t want to talk to you right now, Renate! I know what you did. I know because Luis told me!”