Chapter 9: Aim to Misbehave
In spite of my vanishing spare time, I made an effort to get home to see Mom at least once every two weeks—even if only part of a day. Sometimes my work schedule wasn’t cooperative, though. More than once I traded for a graveyard shift on a Thursday night, went straight to morning class on Friday and then caught a catnap for a few hours before hitting the road.
Since Mom lived in a remote area that was not accessible by train or bus, driving was the only option. I still managed to get some studying in though, even during the drive. A person in my study group turned me on to a free MCAT strategy podcast, and I listened as I drove to absorb more tips on how to pass that damn test.
On a gorgeous Saturday morning, we drove to the Idyllwild farmers market to buy produce. Mom wanted to show me how to make the old family baklava recipe, determined that only the best ingredients would do.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask if this was some kind of frantic handing down of inherited knowledge. Her mom had taught her how to make this same dessert, so I tried to look at this like a natural rite of passage as the next female in line. But my hands shook as I minced the walnuts and pistachios according to her directions. Would this be her last chance to show me? What if she didn’t get better?
“You need to stop throwing me those looks. I’m starting to get self-conscious,” she said without looking at me.
Guiltily, I returned my attention to the chopping board. “What looks? Don’t know what you’re talking about. You look great.”
She gave me a thin smile. “I do look great, if I do say so myself. And I think I could have pulled one over on you… maybe even never told you what was going on. I think a nasty flu would have explained a few bad days, and you would have been none the wiser.”
I frowned and carefully set down my knife. “What do you mean ‘pull one over’ on me? You mean, not tell me that you were sick?”
She shrugged. “I could have waited ‘til I was all better to spill the beans. I don’t like how you’ve been worrying. How you’ve been breaking your back to come home as often as you have. Though… gotta say I love seeing you so much.”
I made a face at her. “As if you could have hidden that from me.”
She bit her bottom lip and an expression clouded her eyes—something a bit like…guilt? Was there something she wasn’t telling me? Faint suspicions I’d been harboring all weekend were on high alert. “You are all right, aren’t you? The doctor says you’re getting better?”
Her bottom lip escaped her teeth, and she moved closer to me, cupping my cheek with her hand. “I am. I promise. You know as much as I do.”
I let out a sigh as she pointed to the chopping board. “That has to be a lot finer if you want the baklava to turn out half decent.”
Grumbling, I picked up the knife and returned to my task, trying very hard not to dart any more concerned glances her way.
This continued until it was time to leave on Sunday afternoon. On my way out, I cast a cursory glance at my mom’s desk as I landed a kiss on her papery cheek. Mom had taken to wearing scarves—to hide her bald head—underneath her straw cowboy hat, paired with big sunglasses. A look somewhere between a faded Hollywood starlet and a well-worn cowgirl.
During my drive home, however, that niggling suspicion finally hit me over the head like a baseball bat. On Mom’s desk, I’d seen multiple bills stacked up—unopened. I knew they were bills because they had the little window envelopes; plus, she immediately shredded junk mail when she received it. If she’d kept and stacked those envelopes, they were important.
I made a mental note to broach the subject with her during our next phone call. She had temporarily shut down the B&B to deal with her health crisis. And I’d been glad of that, as it eased her work burden while she healed. But with no money coming in…how was she paying her regular bills, and on top of that, her medical bills?
These concerns combined with others…I worried about her, all alone up there. I was her only backup at this point. I had to keep an eye out for her.
As I continued to drive, my mind drifted toward the week ahead, a weary exhaustion engulfing me with the thought of beginning the vicious cycle once more. More days of classes, homework, meticulous medical research, working the hospital job, studying for the MCAT retake….
I felt like I was on a neverending hamster wheel, and slowly but surely, it was grinding me down.
I looked forward, with everything that was in me, to our weekly gaming night. Thank God for my online friends.
But even immersion in my favorite game with some of my favorite people was not enough to tear me fully away from all the worries.
Case in point, we were fighting in a huge frozen cavern full of Ice Giants. They’d stomp and drop boulders on us while we chopped at their ankles and slowly brought them down. I usually loved fighting giants because I could use my magic to charm them to fight for me. If the spell worked, a giant under my control would turn on his fellow giants and act as my pet gigantic assassin. For me, fighting giants was a treat.
This time it wasn’t. Usually I could keep three busy by mesmerizing one and charming another to fight the third while my group members attacked the fourth without impediment.
Except I screwed up the order I was supposed to do things, and the giant I was trying to charm instead started to pound me into goo. Once I was no longer keeping the three extraneous giants occupied, they turned on my party members, making guacamole out of them as well.
Such was life. We wiped.
And subsequently, we reappeared as ghosts at our bind point.
Through my headset, I could hear Heath furiously clicking on his keyboard—as if sending messages to the others that he didn’t want me to see. “Guys, this is our third wipe in the Mammoth Ice Caverns. I’m not feeling it tonight. Want to go do something a little easier? We can get back to this next week.”
“Sounds good to me,” agreed Kat without any argument whatsoever. No acknowledgement of my mistakes. No reprimand. I loved my friends.
*FallenOne tells you, You’ve been quiet lately.
In spite of my distracted state, I always got a little thrill whenever FallenOne private messaged me first. I leaned forward to reply.
*You tell FallenOne, Sorry. Preoccupied.
Him: How’s your mom?
Me: Getting better. I think. Won’t know for sure until she goes in to get a scan in a few months.
Him: I’m sure she’ll be okay.
Me: My research professor tries to reassure me, too. He’s an oncologist, so I guess he knows WTF he’s talking about. But it’s one thing to know something in your head and a different thing to feel that fear in your heart, know what I mean?
Him: Sure. Yes. I definitely do.
Me: I’ve decided I want to be an oncologist. Cancer needs its ass kicked—badly.
Him: That’s awesome… not only because you’ve decided to choose that in honor of your mom, but that you know what you want to do at such a young age. What are you, 20? 21?
Me: Are you actually asking me personal questions while telling me nothing about yourself? I ask your a/s/l and you just answer that you’re a dude. I don’t even know if THAT is true.
Except I did. I’d heard his voice on the phone. For a few garbled minutes, anyway. A few minutes which had sparked my curiosity for more. But he’d never offered to call again, and my pride may have been too bruised to ask him for another phone call. I wanted him to offer it. Though I got the feeling, given his pervasive reluctance to divulge details about himself, Fallen was studiously avoiding the subject of another phone call.
I sat back with a sigh and waited, ignoring the fight on the screen as I stared at the blinking cursor in the dialogue box, wondering how he’d answer. Would he finally come clean or evade, like usual? I had to admit that I was intensely curious about him and became more curious as days went by—which only meant that he became much stingier with his info. And, of course, I began to wonder if he was playing a game within the game.
Him: I practice cyber safety. *Strict cyber safety.
Me: So you’re afraid I’m going to find you, stalk you and boil your pet rabbit?
Him: Never had a pet rabbit, fortunately. And anonymity is a gift. It’s hard to give up—sometimes so hard that it’s almost impossible, even when you want to. I guess it’s kind of like burrowing yourself into a cozy little hole and not wanting the gig to be up.
Me: Now it’s sounding like YOU are the rabbit.
Him: I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be difficult. I just think it’s better this way.
My mouth quirked when I read that line. That meant he was married or had a girlfriend. Definitely a girlfriend, at the very least. Perhaps he’d been understating the matter in true male fashion when he’d mentioned his date was “just a friend.” Who knew? And why did I care?
He was just a friend, right? Like Heath? And Kat? And what I hoped Alex and Jenna might become someday? Someone I could depend upon—and could depend on me in turn.
But how could I ever become close friends with someone I knew next to nothing about? Was that even possible? And did I really want a friend like that?
We wiped again, and Heath called it a night with a frustrated sigh. My shoulders slumped, knowing I’d let everyone down. Katya made her excuses soon after, and then it was just Fallen and me, grinding away on dailies—repeatable quests that gave us experience and some other benefits.
It also gave us a chance to continue our previous chat.
Me: If anonymity is a gift, then maybe I should practice some too.
Him: Fair enough. I can respect that.
Me: You pretty much have to…
I tapped my fingers over my palmed mouse, waiting for his comeback. It never came. He changed the subject instead!
Him: So let me ask you this…why do you want to be a doctor?
Me: Whoa, that wasn’t even a subtle sidestep.
Him: Sorry. I just figured that we had said all that needed to be said on the subject. Don’t you?
Me: Hmm. I suppose. But we’re back to personal questions again.
Him: Not identifying questions, though…
Me: I guess so… I’ve always wanted to be a doctor to help people.
Him: That’s cool. I admire that.
Me: How about you? Do you know what you want to do?
Or maybe he was already doing what he wanted to do. That question assumed he was still young enough to be deciding his future. Maybe being a middle-aged basement-dwelling mailman was indeed his lifelong dream!
Him: More or less. I’m of the same mind as you. I want to help people too, but in a different way. By entertaining them. Or giving them a way to escape.
God, I hope that meant he was an actor-wannabe and not some paid escort, which is what it sounded like. But hey, escorts made a lot of money so…whatever worked for him. I couldn’t stop giggling at the thought: FallenOne, College Gigolo.
Him: It’s getting late…I should probably go. And so should you. After all, you have to take on the world, right?
Me: That’s me, world changer!
Him: Tell me you’re going to re-register for the MCAT next month.
Me: I’ll think about it.
This same little routine seemed to repeat itself at the end of all of our gaming sessions—Fallen nagging me to register for a test retake, me pushing back due to fear.
It was endearing. And…sweet. And frustrating, because he was still holding back. Katya had told me she thought he’d come around eventually. That he was just shy. But I figured my guess was probably more accurate…
He was hiding a big secret. I had no idea what it was, but pondering this mystery was making me tired, to be honest.
I needed friends. Friends who didn’t hold back. Friends whom I could count on in the real world for support. I vowed to hang out with Alex and Jenna more—when I could fit it in—and say “yes” to whatever they proposed next.
I just prayed that it wasn’t some crazy college antics, or a frat party or something…
***
Weeks later, I got that chance on a rare night off. And fortunately, it wasn’t a frat party. Instead of gaming, I hung out with Jenna and Alex at their off-campus apartment in Fullerton.
It was late. Late late. I should’ve been on my way home, but I sat hunched in their dark living room in front of their aging TV—a big fat CRT that Alex inherited when her mom upgraded to a flat screen. The popcorn bowl had long since transformed into a greasy vessel of congealed melted butter, salt and a billion unpopped kernels.
Through the holes in my sweater—while hiding the fact that I was trying to hide— I watched the “Bushwhacked” episode of Firefly with Alex and Jenna. The crew of Serenity had discovered a derelict ship floating in space with no known survivors aboard. And, knowing nothing of what had occurred on the ship, they searched it for loot and to hopefully discover what happened.
I’d seen the episode before—several times. As a devoted Firefly fan, I had about a dozen episodes from the short-lived but beloved TV series to choose from. I may have seen this particular one a dozen times, but it got me every time.
“Oh shit, I hate anything to do with the Reavers,” Alex breathed. “They scare the crap out of me.” She shifted a big cushion in front of her face then occasionally peeked around it at the screen.
The only one of us who appeared unaffected by the onscreen tension was Jenna, who sat with her legs crossed, her elbows resting on her knees, her chin in her hands, staring at the screen. “They’re gonna get you, Alex! The cannibalistic space pirates are going to sneak into your room tonight!”
“Shut up, Jenna.”
Jenna only snickered in response and then repeated Zoë’s famous quote about the villainous Reavers. “They’ll rape you to death, eat your flesh and sew your skin into their clothing. And if you’re very, very lucky, they’ll do it in that order.”
I shuddered just as, onscreen, Jayne was hit from behind. Wildly pivoting, he started shooting. Alex and I both jumped when he was hit while Jenna continued smiling as if watching a leprechaun riding a unicorn over a rainbow. Honestly, that girl had either seen this episode eight thousand times—a definite possibility—or had nerves of titanium, possibly both.
Suddenly, we were startled by four figures who burst through the apartment door in the dark, shouting gutturally. We all jumped out of our seats and ran for the adjacent kitchen while the guys chased us wearing Halloween horror masks. My heart raced, the adrenaline pumping. Flailing about randomly with her hands, Alex emitted high-pitched screams. The more she shrieked, the more deep, harsh laughter came from the masked invaders. Even Jenna had let out a scream when they first entered. But now she was standing in the kitchen with her arms folded across her chest.
“Okay, douchebags,” she finally said. “Very funny.”
“Made ya scream, Jen. That’s one of a hundred that we owe you.”
“Bite me, Orin,” she sneered, kicking a leg in the direction of his crotch. If he’d been standing closer, he’d have been the one letting loose a high-pitched scream. Even three feet away, he stepped back, yanking off his mask.
“Assholes!” Alex screamed again. “I’m so getting you back for that.”
“Hey, that was for the glitter-bombing! We’re even now,” one of them replied. Alex had told me about that prank. The girls had loaded up a box and labeled it “baked goods,” when it was actually a balloon-powered package of glitter explosions waiting to happen. “We’re still finding glitter all over the place. That was effin’ mean.”
“Crybabies,” Jenna replied. “Maybe you should clean your filthy pit once in a while, and the glitter would be gone.”
“Why don’t you clean it? Isn’t that what women are supposed to do anyway?”
Wisely, they delivered that line while running out the door. Jenna chased them to the stairwell, cackling all the way, and they noticeably increased their speed. Smart of them. She would have kicked their asses—literally—if she’d caught them.
She returned, breathing hard, as Alex and I were picking up the overturned bowl of popcorn kernels that Alex had launched at the intruders when they’d busted through the door.
“Okay, we start our plans of revenge tonight,” Jenna muttered through clenched teeth.
“Aren’t you afraid it’ll only escalate the conflict?” I picked popcorn crumbs from the outdated shag carpeting and glanced from one to the other.
“A girl can’t back down,” Alex mumbled before leaving the room and quickly returning, lugging the vacuum. “Otherwise, they’ll keep terrorizing us. Speaking of which, lock the door in case they decide to come back. We need like a password or something.”
“Yeah, I got one, No douche-canoes allowed,” Jenna grumbled.
“Too obvious,” I objected, shaking my head. I glanced over at the TV where Mal Reynolds was facing off against the alliance commander. “We should make an all-girls club. No boys allowed. Just like grade school.”
“We can make Heath an honorary member!” Alex chimed. Heath had met the girls a few weeks back, and they’d all gotten along well.
“Our password should strike fear in the hearts of men everywhere,” Jenna said with a gleam in her eye.
“I’ve got it!” Alex said. “Our password is: I aim to misbehave. And where those boys are concerned, that is definitely the truth!”
“Even though Orin so wants to go out with you, Alex,” Jenna said with a smirk. “He’d totally drop this ongoing vendetta if you did.”
“Hell to the no!” she hissed.
Jenna approached us, holding out her hands. “So say we all? Our club—we won’t even name it. We’ll call it the Club That Shall Not Be Named. Girl power!”
I put my hand on top of Jenna’s, and Alex rested hers atop mine. “We aim to misbehave!”
“Maybe we can allow cute guys to be temporary members? Must be extremely hot, though.” Alex chewed her lip, thinking.
“We can make Jack Eversea our mascot!” Jenna giggled. “He’s so dreamy.” Jack was Jenna’s celebrity crush du jour.
“Okay, exceptions for hot guys. Especially dark-haired guys.” Alex nodded.
“I like blonds and redheads better,” I chimed while weirdly wondering what color hair FallenOne had, then promptly reminded myself that I wasn’t going to think about him like that anymore.
Both girls frowned at me. I always had to be the voice of dissent, didn’t I? Figured…
Soon after, we began our nefarious plans to escalate this cycle of pranks against the boys in the building.
Hey, I lived seven miles away from this building so I was safe from their retaliation. Therefore, I happily participated and hanging out with the girls was fun. It was real.
At this point in my life, real was just what I needed.