The Embellisher by E.C. Garcia - HTML preview

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Boys

My bewilderment is interrupted by a tap on my shoulder. I jump and quickly turn around in my chair to see Saul Mathers leaning in right behind me. He looks nothing like Nathan and is just another guy in my class who I try to ignore, although it is a little more difficult with Saul because he is one of the more attractive ones.

“What are we looking at?” he asks staring behind me at the window.

“What? Oh. Umm, it’s raining,” I mumble. I’m still disordered by what just happened.

Saul glances behind me again. “No it’s not,” he says looking confused.

“Yes it is.” I turn around and see that the rain has stopped and the day looks as clear as ever. “Well I thought it was. I could’ve sworn…” I start.

Saul chuckles and I turn back to face him as he reveals a perfect smile. His dark, shaggy hair falls right above his thick eyebrows that rest over his twinkling brown eyes, his lips are full and his jawline is strong. Why does he have to look like a male model?

“For a minute you looked like you had seen a ghost,” he says. I say nothing thinking he may be right.

“You didn’t even notice Ms. Aldridge walk out did you?” he asks. “She excused herself and ran off looking extremely constipated. I think she ate the school’s lunch today,” says Saul. I laugh out loud and so does he. He looks pleased that he is able to make me smile.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he asks.

The fact that he is trying to talk to me takes me by surprise. I casually respond, “I’m not sure yet. What about you?”

“Well A.J. is having a party at his house tonight. You should come.”

Before I can even consider his request the loneliness inside me answers. “Yeah, that could be fun.”

“Awesome,” he smiles again. “You could just go with me if you want to. I’ll pick you up.”

I smile and giggle obnoxiously. I instantly feel like an idiot for reacting this way. I can feel my face start to blush so I turn forward and pretend to be rummaging through my folder for something while the redness fades.

“Thanks, but I’ll probably just drive myself,” I say as I turn back around to face him,

 “I might not stay out that late.”

He may be cute but I trust no one. I have strategically avoided contact with guys since being exposed to their behavior through my mother’s many boyfriends. I’m fully aware that most of them only want one thing, then once they get it they reveal their true colors.

“Okay, well as long as you show up I’ll be happy,” says Saul. I turn away before my face flushes again. The bell rings and thankfully class is over. Saul jots down the address to the party on a piece of paper and tells me he hopes to see me later.

***

I arrive home that afternoon to find my mother frantically hurrying around the house dressed in a modest white summer dress with low heels, different from her usual choice of anything with a plunging neckline.

“What’s wrong Sharon?” I ask.

“I have a date,” she smiles excitedly. “I just can’t find my car keys and I still have to finish my hair. Do me a favor and look for them would ya? I’m already running late.” She rushes to the bathroom and starts teasing her hair with a comb.

“Wait a minute, a date? You haven’t brought a new guy around here in a while,” I say.

“Oh Zenny, don’t you think I still know how to catch a man? And this one just happens to own a third of the car dealership downtown. Can you imagine how much money he makes? I might even be able to stop working. We’ve been dating for almost two months now; it’s getting kind of serious.”

“Why haven’t I met him?”

“He doesn’t have kids. I want to ease him into this. Don’t get me wrong he doesn’t mind that I’m a mother. He even helped me pay for your school tuition.”

“Sharon!” I shout out of embarrassment.

“Oh calm down Zen, it’s not like I asked him to, he offered,” she says.

“Why would he do that? He’s never even met me.”

“I told him about your situation and how you’re…special.”

“Wow. Thanks mom. Now I can’t wait to meet him. When that day comes should I walk around wearing a superhero cape while I talk to myself?” 

“Oh please Zenny, you’re so dramatic! Trust me this guy is a keeper.”

“I’ve heard that before,” I say glumly.

My mother goes through men faster than her pack of cigarettes. She’s a serial loser lover and picks up most of her boyfriends in bars. She’s always searching for someone that can take care of her, because she never really knew how to take care of herself.

“Mom,” I say as I stand in the bathroom doorway watching her douse her hair in hairspray.

“What is it now?”

“Don’t you think you should try to find a guy with a little more substance, I mean, who cares if he has money? What if he’s not good for you?” I ask. She turns away from the bathroom mirror to look at me and then begins to snicker.

“Listen Zen, if he’s not good to me then I’m sure I can buy something with his money that will treat me just fine. Now move your butt and find my keys. I was supposed to be at the restaurant fifteen minutes ago.” She turns back around to the mirror and continues spraying down her hair.

I feel like a broken record trying to talk sense into her. I guess sometimes people are so stuck in their own ways that they see change as an uncomfortable threat.

“I’m thinking about going to a party tonight,” I tell her. “A guy from school asked me to go, but I’m not really sure if I should. I don’t really get along with any of the kids at school ---”

“Zenny, just stop!” she shouts. “There are more important things going on right now than your silly teenage social life. This man is a chance for me to start a new life. Now you’ve already put me through hell in dealing with all your crazy stories and your idiotic teachers that get on my case, like it’s my fault you’re messed up in the head. It’s time you start facing reality. Go get a job or something because once you turn eighteen little lady you’re going to be on our own, you hear me? Don’t ruin this for me!” She quickly slams the bathroom door in my face and moments later I can hear the continuous hairspray.

I recall a memory when I was little and my mother was getting ready for a date. I was crying because I was hungry and she had forgotten to go to the grocery store so there was no food in the house. Before she ran out the door she turned to look at Nathan. “Take care of that,” she said as she pointed to me, “I’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

Nathan was only nine years old at the time but he had become resilient to the point where he had enough strength for the both of us. After searching through the pantries and refrigerator one last time and finding nothing but a nearly empty jug of milk and expired crackers, he decided to go find us food. That night we ended up walking by ourselves to the neighborhood market with only two dollars, which was all of Nathan’s savings from his piggy bank collected from loose change he had found on the streets. He had me hide behind a nearby telephone booth and told me to wait there. I watched from a distance as he walked into the market and a few minutes later I saw him running towards me with something in both hands.

 “Run home Zenny!” he yelled as he quickly made his way towards me. “Just run, it’s a race! See if you can beat me!”

Being a child I saw this as a game. I jumped up to my feet and playfully started running up the street towards our house.

“I’m going to catch up you better hurry!” I heard Nathan yell from behind me.

I ran with all my might until we had reached the front doorsteps of our house. As we both caught our breath I started laughing and shouting in triumph, “I beat you! I won!” 

“You did,” he smiled at me still gasping for air. “Good job, Zen. Here’s your prize.”

Nathan showed me what was in his hands, a large submarine sandwich and a bag of chocolate chip cookies. I remember smiling from ear to ear.

“We can share,” he said. “C’mon let’s go inside.”

My mother scurries out of the bathroom. “Did you find them?” she asks as she continues to search through the furniture to find her keys. I walk over to the pantry where she keeps her bottles of liquor and open it to find her keychain sitting there.

“Here,” I say grabbing them and tossing them to her, “you look really pretty Mom.”

She looks up at me with a surprised expression and then smiles.

“Thank you hun,” she says. I’ve also learned that praising her often diffuses any tense situation. She walks over to the mirror near the front door and pushes up her bosom in her bra. “Now you watch. Your momma is gonna go get you a new daddy.”