Aftercare Instructions Page 4
The phone rings again, in my hand, and I reject the call. I can’t deal. I can’t deal with anything. I can’t deal with being alone. I can’t deal with another person abandoning me. It’s not fair. How many goddamned life lessons do I have to learn before I turn eighteen? I feel like I know some things. Why can’t the universe or God or whoever it is who helps move things along cut me a little break here? Some people my age have never known anyone who died. Never fallen in love. Never broken into a million pieces.
“So, are you guys, like…” Rose doesn’t finish her sentence.
“Are we what?”
“Are you broken up now?”
And then I lose it. Everything. Everything solid in my body turns into something gelatinous, like liquid just before it becomes Jell-O. The tears come from somewhere deeper than I’ve ever pulled them from.
“What happened?” my mom asks, appearing in the doorway now.
But I keep crying. Crying crying crying until there’s no water left. And then I swear I’m crying air. Until there isn’t any air. Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy?
I’m NOT fine.
I’m not fucking fine.
I’m.
Not.
FINE.
“I don’t think I’m okay.”
“You are,” Rose says, and runs her hand through my hair. I’m not. I’m not. My mom is here. With us. With her arms around me and there are too many arms and hands and mouths and …
“No, really, I can’t breathe, and it’s like someone is crushing my chest. My heart. My heart.”
“Can I make you some tea?”
“Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
“I’m right here, Gen. Right here.”
“We’re not broken up.”
Rose gathers my hair together and out of my face.
“We’re not. People don’t break up without a conversation, right? Can I still be with him, Rose? Is this just a fight or something?”
“What happened, honey?” my mom asks me.
“It’s just a fight, isn’t it? A misunderstanding?”
I’m on my feet now.
Rose still doesn’t answer. She stands and faces me. My mom stays on the ground.
“I have to go to his house.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I need him.”
“He abandoned you, Gen.”
My mother tugs at my leg like a little girl. Tries to bring me back down.
My phone rings again.
“Why is my mother calling you?”
“What are you even doing in here, Mom? Why do you pick today to become involved?”
“Genesis, that is a horrible thing to say,” Rose says.
Who cares if I still want to be with him after what he did to me? Our relationship is more than that. We’re more than that. I can’t keep this in. I can’t. If I store all this now, then I’m sure I’ll explode, so when all the tiny molecules of water that make up my body are stirring—no, whipping together—I let them. I turn into a tidal wave right there on my bedroom floor and all I can think to do is
knock
everything
down
in my path.
So I shove Rose backward.
As hard as I can.
And she stumbles to the floor.
“Jesus! Genesis!”
She collects herself and stands.
“Why the fuck did you do that?”
And I can’t answer her. I don’t know. I really don’t recognize anything right now. Nothing. Not the room I’m standing in. Not the person in front of me. Not my mother on the floor. Not the person in my skin. Everything spins together into gray spiraling waves.
“What is wrong with you?”
I’m
Not
Fine.
Where is he?
“Hello?”
Is my mom really answering my phone?
“Mom!”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know where she’s been.”
“Genesis, you need to calm down.”
Then it’s all arms reaching and people telling me which way to go and buzzes and sirens and I have to find my own way. I have to find my way back to him. I have to have the conversations I don’t want to. I have to go to him.
And so I do. I run out of the house, leaving Rose and my mom in the swirl.
ACT I
SCENE 4
(This scene takes place in a hospital cafeteria. The lights are extra bright. The few patrons sit alone, sipping coffee, or picking at pieces of fruit.
PETER and GENESIS carry trays.)
PETER
Table for two, m’lady?
GENESIS
Why, yes, thank you. Something by a window, perhaps?
(They look around and laugh.)
PETER
Now see here, Madame. We take the décor of our restaurant very seriously, and in order for you to get the proper hospital cafeteria experience, we’ve built the restaurant underground. So, I’m afraid window seating is not possible at this time. But perhaps I can interest you in a table with easy access to the salad bar?
GENESIS
Whatever suits you.
(PETER slides a chair out for GENESIS. She plays along with slight hesitation.)
GENESIS
Sorry you couldn’t come in with me.
PETER
Don’t be sorry. There is quite a magazine collection in the waiting area.
GENESIS
Sorry it took so long.
PETER
It’s fine.
GENESIS
Sorry you had to come here.
PETER
Stop. I didn’t have to come here. I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do.
GENESIS
Why are you doing this?
PETER
What? Taking you out on a date to this fine dining establishment?
GENESIS
A date?
PETER
I admit it’s not the most conventional of first dates, but yes, this is our first date.
GENESIS
I’ve never been on a date before.
PETER
Never?
GENESIS
I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve hung out in groups and stuff, but I’ve never gone to a movie or a restaurant or anything like that. With a guy.
PETER
Okay, then let’s do this properly.
GENESIS
Properly?
PETER
Yes, you know, because the purpose of a first date is to get to know the person and see if you click.
GENESIS
How are you such a dating expert?
PETER
I told you. There is quite a magazine spread here for a young guy like myself to learn about the ins and outs of dating.
GENESIS
I guess you had enough time to become an expert.
PETER
I’m really not.
GENESIS
Oh.
PETER
Let’s play Twenty Questions.
GENESIS
Like—is it bigger than a breadbox? That kind of Twenty Questions?
PETER
Let’s do the first-date version.
GENESIS
You’re making this up.
PETER
Of course I am. What’s a breadbox?
GENESIS
I have no idea.
PETER
All these years.
GENESIS
Okay, what’s the first-date version?
PETER
You ask me anything you want to and I have to answer. Then I get to ask you something. And so on, for twenty questions.
GENESIS
I don’t know if this is such a good idea.
PETER
Why not?
GENESIS
I don’t know.
PETER
I guarantee client confidentiality.
; GENESIS
You a lawyer or something?
PETER
My dad is. But don’t worry. We’re going to stay on the surface in this game. We have plenty of time for the more challenging content later.
GENESIS
What do you want to know about me, anyway?
PETER
Wait, you’re ready to start?
GENESIS
I guess so.
PETER
Okay, then, let’s start easy. If you could eat anything in the world right now, not that wilted iceberg salad you haven’t touched since we sat down, what would it be?
(GENESIS thinks.)
Say the first thing that comes to your mind.
GENESIS
Okay then, Indian food from Curry Row in the city.
PETER
Good one.
GENESIS
With my dad.
(PETER nods. They sit for a beat.)
GENESIS
There’s a whole street of Indian restaurants in Manhattan. With Christmas lights and hosts standing out on the sidewalk, even in the winter, trying to herd you in. My dad used to take us. He’d let my sister and me pick the restaurant. I’d pick based on who had the most chili pepper lights. Ally and I would laugh when the waiter offered wine. And the food, well, I just think it’s the most delicious food I’ve ever had.
PETER
That’s a way better answer than I expected.
GENESIS
Low expectations?
PETER
That’s the beauty of Twenty Questions. Okay, your turn to ask.
GENESIS
Am I allowed to ask the same thing?
PETER
Sure, if you want to.
GENESIS
Okay, what would you rather be eating right now? Or is that chicken-finger platter satisfying you?
PETER
You already asked your question.
GENESIS
What?
PETER
You said, “Am I allowed to ask the same thing?” That’s a question.
GENESIS
Not fair.
PETER
I’m teasing. My answer is not as beautiful as yours.
GENESIS
So what?
PETER
I’d rather be eating pizza.
GENESIS
That’s such a boy answer.
PETER
Guilty as charged.
GENESIS
I love pizza too.
PETER
Good, then you have the job.
GENESIS
What job?
PETER
Job description being worked out as we speak.
GENESIS
I don’t want the job.
PETER
Oh.
GENESIS
No. Sorry. Not like that. I kind of can’t forget where I am right now. Just had a rush of reality.
PETER
I know. I’m sorry.
GENESIS
No, let’s keep playing the game.
PETER
You sure?
(She nods.)
Okay, so we’re on question three, then.
GENESIS
Yes.
PETER
Is this the best date you’ve ever been on?
GENESIS
(Smiling)
Yes. Is this the best date you’ve ever been on?
PETER
Second only to the time in sixth grade when I barfed on Lydia Pinkett while riding the Tilt-A-Whirl.
GENESIS
I remember Lydia Pinkett.
PETER
She broke up with me after that.
GENESIS
That was fast. I was in your class and I didn’t even know you were together.
PETER
Fast and furious.
GENESIS
Ew.
PETER
Not meant to be. What’s your favorite book?
GENESIS
Slaughterhouse-Five. What’s your favorite color?
PETER
Blue.
GENESIS
A boy who likes pizza and blue.
PETER
I’m a total stereotype.
GENESIS
I doubt that.
PETER
What do you want to be when you grow up?
GENESIS
I have no clue.
PETER
Seriously?
GENESIS
Seriously.
PETER
Well, what do you like to do?
GENESIS
It’s my turn to ask a question.
PETER
Fair enough. Go.
GENESIS
What do you want to be when you grow up?
PETER
Are you going to keep repeating my questions?
GENESIS
Maybe. If they’re good enough.
PETER
I’ll have to take that into consideration when I ask my next question.
GENESIS
Should I be scared?
PETER
Oh, yes. Terrified. A journalist. That’s what I want to be when I grow up.
GENESIS
For a newspaper?
PETER
What’s a newspaper? Is that like in the olden days when people used to read their news on printed paper?
GENESIS
I’m not sure this is going to work out.
PETER
So soon? Well, at least this lasted longer than my date with Lydia Pinkett.
GENESIS
We’ll always have that.
PETER
Name three things you like to do.
GENESIS
That’s three questions.
PETER
No, it’s only one.
GENESIS
Well …
PETER
I’m guessing you like to read.
GENESIS
Why?
PETER
I’ve seen you reading at school.
GENESIS
It’s a good way to keep to yourself.
PETER
I see. So, do you like it? Or is it just an escape?
GENESIS
This is too many questions.
PETER
I know. Back to the original question. Three things you like to do.
GENESIS
Okay, fine. I do like to read. Not just to escape. I also like to swim in the ocean. And I like … theater. Well, I used to.
PETER
This won’t do at all.
GENESIS
What?
PETER
A girl who likes spicy food, reading for pleasure, the ocean, theater, and lives life freely without worrying about the future?
GENESIS
What do you mean?
PETER
You’re not a stereotype.
GENESIS
Tell me about it.
PETER
I could if you wanted me to.
GENESIS
Let’s continue.
PETER
Whose turn is it?
GENESIS
Mine. Do you believe in God?
PETER
(Considering the question)
Yes, I do.
GENESIS
Okay.
PETER
Is that a problem?
GENESIS
Is that your question?
PETER
Yes.
GENESIS
No.
PETER
Good.
GENESIS
So, do you believe in, like, evolution?
PETER
Of course! Do you think all Christians don’t believe in evolution?
GENESIS
No … I … sorry. But, do you believe in hell?
PETER
Yes. Do you believe in God?
GENESIS
I don’t think so
.
PETER
Agnostic?
GENESIS
Yes. Is that a problem for you?
PETER
Is that your question?
GENESIS
Yes.
PETER
No.
PETER
Why haven’t you told me why your mom is in the hospital?
GENESIS
I thought we were staying surface.
PETER
You don’t have to answer.
GENESIS
She had a bad reaction to some medication.
PETER
What kind?
GENESIS
A new anti-anxiety. And they thought she tried to kill herself. I mean, I did too, for a second. Ally found her. But she didn’t. And it’s not easy to get someone out of the psych ward.
PETER
Wow. Heavy.
GENESIS
I don’t come easy, Peter.
PETER
I can tell.
GENESIS
This is a really intense time.
PETER
I can tell that too.
GENESIS
What about you?
PETER
What about me?
GENESIS
Do you have this kind of, I don’t know … baggage?
PETER
I can’t say I do, exactly, but I’m not perfect.
GENESIS
Is this what you want?
PETER
Is that your question?
GENESIS
Yes.
PETER
(Grabbing her hands across the table)
Yes. Very much so.
(Lights fade. End scene.)
YOU MAY EXPERIENCE CRAMPING
I trudge through the snow toward South Point, where Peter lives. It’s an easy walk in the summer, but now it feels like I’m forcing my way through a barrier I’m not supposed to penetrate. I’m burning. Tearing. Pushing. Forward. My blood bubbles with heat in the freezing-cold air around me. Finally, I stand outside the white picket fence surrounding his perfect little house and perfect little family, and stare at the shapes reflected in the window I know to be his room. I don’t see his truck parked outside, but I walk up to the front door anyway.
His younger brother answers. He’s taller than I am now, which happened sometime in the fall, and his dirty blond hair sticks up in the back like he’s been lying down on it. He stands on the porch with me, holding the door open just slightly behind him. He looks from side to side, but not directly at me.
“Hi, Jimmy.”
“Hey.”
“Is your brother home?”
His eyes shoot down to his bare feet, which must be frozen out here. “No.”
I try to peer behind him.
“I swear! You can look for yourself!”
He swings the door open wider, and I see the television on some kind of extreme sports show, and a scattering of snacks on the coffee table. Their huge gray cat sits on the back of the couch, licking her paws. She stops and stares at us with her paw suspended in the air. Waving, almost.
“Where is he?”
All Jimmy can do is shake his head and move the door back to its barely open position.