We Can Work It Out Read online

  “But …” The girl’s shoulders slouched as she helplessly watched Ryan leave.

  This was clearly a disaster, and the girl now looked as shipwrecked as the rest of us. I reminded myself that she wasn’t the person to be mad at. The person to be mad at hadn’t bothered to show up on time.

  She looked at me for an answer. I didn’t know what to tell her.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. Then I followed Ryan out of the restaurant.

  Once we got in the elevator, I touched his arm, and he pulled it away. “I need a second,” he said. His jaw was clenched tightly.

  We silently made our way back to his car. Ryan sat in the driver’s seat for a couple of minutes without making a movement or a sound. I knew there was nothing I could say to make him feel better, so I remained quiet.

  The ringer on his cell phone broke the silence. Ryan didn’t move to pick it up or even look at who was calling. I guessed by the “Imperial March” ringtone from Star Wars, he knew exactly who it was.

  “Do you want me to drive?” I offered, trying to get him to react to something.

  And then he finally responded. He reacted in a way that shocked, scared, and impressed me. Because in that parking garage on the Magnificent Mile, Ryan Bauer absolutely lost it.

  He started hitting the steering wheel repeatedly, then shook it so violently I almost got out of the car. “Asshole! Asshole! Asshole!” he screamed. Then he let go and collapsed back like a rag doll. Tears started rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Penny, but I can’t deal with his complete and utter bullshit anymore. I can’t wait to turn eighteen so neither of us is legally obligated to pretend that we’re family.” He began to laugh bitterly. “Some father. How long do you think he’s known her? Do you think she has any idea what she’s getting into?”

  His phone rang again. He shut it off and threw it into the backseat. “And I’m sure the only purpose of tonight was so that he could pretend to be this great dad to impress her. He’s such a fraud.”

  He leaned forward and rested his head on the steering wheel. “And I’m going to have to be the one to tell Mom.”

  I placed my hand on his cheek. “Do you want me to be there when you do?”

  He shook his head.

  “Ryan, you know how I always joke that I hope I’m not like my parents. Well, I know I am. But you are nothing, nothing like your father. I don’t have to meet him to know that.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “I mean, we both know how attracted you are to au naturel.” I playfully gestured at my chest, which wasn’t tiny, but it was nowhere near the watermelons we’d just encountered. “Oh, and you’re the opposite of an asshole, so that right there should count for something.”

  He finally sat up, wiped away the tears on his cheeks, and nodded to himself. It was something I’d seen him do when he was getting ready for a big play on the court. “Okay, moving on.” He turned the key in the ignition, then looked at me. “Can you drive? I’m afraid I’d break some NASCAR record right now.”

  As we got out of the car to switch places, I pulled him into me and hugged him tightly. Everything that Diane and Tyson had said to me came flooding back. All Ryan wanted was for me to be there, be present, for him. I may have failed at that in the past, but I knew that now all he needed was for me to hold him and to help him through this.

  It was something I wasn’t going to screw up.

  UP UNTIL THAT POINT, I APPROACHED everything with an either-or mentality. It was always Ryan or the Club. And while I couldn’t let my relationship with Ryan interfere with the Club (and vice versa), I could influence the Club’s social calendar.

  Saturday night the Club would attend the last home game for the guys’ varsity basketball team. Then afterward we’d go out for cupcakes and milk shakes.

  No either. No or. Total harmony.

  Plus, there would be cupcakes, so win-win all around.

  First, though, came Friday night. Morgan and I were on our way to hear Tyson’s band play at a tiny coffee shop the next town over. Ryan was going to meet us there after practice.

  I loved it when a plan came together.

  “Do you think you can help me run an errand first?” Morgan asked as she pulled into a parking spot in bustling downtown Parkview.

  “Of course,” I said as we got out of the car.

  Morgan was nervously biting her fingernails. “Thanks, I think I need some backup for this.”

  We walked into a drugstore that I was more than familiar with. Morgan grabbed a cart and started filling it seemingly at random — a bottle of soda, cotton swabs, lip balm — as she made her way down the aisle. Her eyes swept the store in a nervous manner.

  My immediate reaction to her suspicious behavior was that she was thinking of shoplifting. Nothing else made sense.

  “Do you need help finding anything?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I know where I’m going.” She picked up a can of hair spray and studied it intently. As soon as a woman pushing a stroller passed us, Morgan quickly walked down to the feminine hygiene section.

  Was this what all the fuss was about? Buying some tampons?

  “Um, do you want me to do this?” I offered.

  Morgan haphazardly picked up a box, then turned her back to the display. “No, it’s okay.”

  I followed her eye line and realized we were standing right next to the condom display. Morgan quickly picked up a box and put it behind the tampon one so she could read it more discreetly.

  “Morgan!” I hissed. “You do realize that my mom works here.”

  She gasped. “Oh, God, I forgot. I wanted to have someone here with me so I didn’t have to do this by myself.”

  Just as I was walking out of the aisle and away from any evidence that could sentence me to the guillotine, I heard my mom’s voice. I froze with fear.

  “Penny Lane, why, isn’t this a nice treat!” Mom approached me in her white pharmacist’s coat. “Sue thought she saw you walk in. Hi, Morgan!”

  Morgan gave Mom a weak smile, the blood draining from her face. She was clenching her boxes as if her life depended on it.

  “I thought you guys were going to Tyson’s concert.” She looked between us.

  “Yeah.” I tried to remain calm. “We wanted to pick up some stuff, soda, and the like …”

  Morgan looked down at her hands, trying desperately to not show what was behind the tampon box. “Yeah, that time of the month and everything.” She gestured toward the box and then went to place it in her cart. As she did her best to hide the proof of what we were really doing there, the boxes separated.

  It was like watching a bomb slowly descend. In reality, it probably took only two seconds, but in the middle of the store with my mother as a witness, it felt like eighteen hours of torture. When the box of condoms finally landed on the floor, it was like an explosion had gone off in my chest.

  There, between our three sets of feet, lay the evidence in all its “for her pleasure” glory.

  It took Mom a few seconds to process what she was seeing. Once she did, her head jolted up and she grabbed me by the elbow. “In the back. Now.”

  Morgan stepped forward. “Please, Mrs. Bloom, this isn’t Penny’s fault. She didn’t know what I wanted to do here. It’s not her, it —” She finally took a breath. “Please don’t tell my parents.”

  Mom studied us with pursed lips. “Penny Lane, we need to have a talk when you get home tonight. And you need to be back by nine, not ten.”

  I didn’t even bother trying to protest. There was no point.

  Morgan looked at the basket, not sure what to do next.

  Mom held out her hand. “I’ll take that.”

  We exited the store quickly in a flurry of apologies. Once we got outside and into the safety of Morgan’s car, I finally exhaled.

  “I’m so sorry.” Morgan put her hands over her face. “I didn’t know what to do, and I thought if I walked in with someone and didn’t make it a big deal, it wouldn’t be a big deal
.” And then she said the understatement of the millennium. “That was a disaster.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you decided to finally do it?” I asked.

  She slumped even farther down in her seat. “I wasn’t sure. Then I thought if I could handle the responsibility of getting some condoms, then maybe I was ready. I guess I have my answer.” Morgan started slapping her forehead, as if trying to rid herself of the memory. She groaned, “I think I’m going to die from embarrassment.”

  Yeah, I was going to actually die from being murdered. By my mother. For a crime I wasn’t committing.

  “Listen, I understand if you don’t want to go tonight,” Morgan said. The color that had drained from her face had returned, and then some.

  I thought for a moment. “No, we should go. It’s probably the last time I’ll be let out of the house until I’m thirty.”

  Plus, I figured it would be best to warn Ryan that he should probably go into the witness protection program.

  Music had always helped me escape from my troubles. I’d had to lean on John, Paul, George, and Ringo more times than I could remember.

  But there was a cloud of insecurity, worry, and genuine fear that no music could help me through that evening. Even though Tyson’s band was good, the cloud kept hanging over me all night. As much as Morgan and I tried to joke about it once we got to the coffee shop, I knew what this meant.

  I kept thinking about what my mom had seen. What she must’ve thought of me. First, she had to overhear that I was dating Nate behind her back, that I had planned to sleep with him, and that instead I’d caught him sleeping with someone else. Now she’d caught me in the condom aisle.

  Was she ever going to trust me again?

  I walked slowly up our driveway at a quarter to nine. After I’d confided in Ryan about what had happened, he’d insisted that I get home even before my newly imposed nine o’clock curfew.

  When I walked through the front door, I saw Mom sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea. There wasn’t any TV or music on. She wasn’t reading. She was simply sitting there patiently.

  Waiting for me.

  She pushed out the chair across from her as I walked into the kitchen, and I sat down. She tapped her fingernail against the ceramic mug with artwork from the Revolver album.

  “I don’t think I need to tell you how proud I am of what you’ve done with The Lonely Hearts Club, Penny Lane.”

  I nodded.

  She continued in a measured voice. “The initiative and strength it took to start it and lead by example is truly amazing.”

  I remained silent, waiting for the inevitable “but” that was to come.

  “Your father and I have really come to enjoy these Saturdays with the girls. And that party on Valentine’s Day was extraordinary. You truly have started, in the words of John Lennon, a revolution. But …”

  And there it was.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, as if the thoughts swirling in her head were causing her pain. “But truthfully, I don’t know how much I can trust you anymore. You lied to me about Nate, you lied to me when you said that you and Ryan weren’t even thinking about taking a bigger step, and then I had to find you in my store, of all places, buying condoms.”

  After a few seconds of silence, I realized it was time to plead my case.

  “I never lied about Nate,” I stated. “Yes, I didn’t tell you what was going on, because he wanted to keep it a secret. He told me a lot of things I shouldn’t have believed. Believe me, Mom, I wish every day that I never fell for Nate. That I didn’t get duped by his lies. But I did. And I’ve moved on. I’d prefer to never see him again, but I don’t think I could stand Dad looking at me” — my voice cracked — “the way that you’re looking at me now. I betrayed your trust. I know that. I thought I was in love.” I couldn’t help but laugh at my own naïveté. “And then when everything went badly, I wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened.”

  Mom nodded solemnly. “I wish you felt you could’ve told me all this after it happened.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I did tell Rita and she threatened his life.”

  “Oddly enough, that does.” Mom reached for my hand across the table.

  I felt we had a truce on the Nate situation, but I knew this conversation was far from over.

  “And I swear, Mom, Ryan and I are not even talking about next steps.” Our relationship was in a delicate enough position without adding that to it. “I didn’t know why we were in your store.” Then I decided to reason with her rationally. “I mean, do you think I’d be stupid enough to do that where you work?” I would’ve hoped she had more faith in me than that.

  “So you’ve already put some thought into it?”

  “What? No!” I exclaimed.

  Maybe I should join Ryan in witness protection.

  “Well, let’s talk about it, then.” From the chair next to her, Mom pulled out the dreaded props for “the talk.” She immediately opened to a flagged page of the female reproductive system.

  She began her epic speech. “When a man and a woman, not a bunch of teenagers, fall in love, true love …”

  I didn’t protest. I sat there and took my punishment. Given the circumstances, it could’ve been much, much worse.

  ONE PERSON’S HUMILIATION WAS ANOTHER’S SOURCE of pure joy.

  Tracy wiped away a tear. “That is seriously the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. I wonder if I can get the security tapes from the store so I can see the look on your mom’s face.”

  I ignored her as we made our way up the bleachers to where The Lonely Hearts Club was sitting at the game on Saturday. Diane, Jen, and Jessica were meeting us later, since they’d had an away game that afternoon.

  Tracy continued, oblivious to my annoyance. “As I said before, these high school relationships simply aren’t worth it.”

  “Thanks for reminding me. Yet again.”

  The smile on Tracy’s face vanished. “You know I’m only talking about myself. The story is hilarious, but you’re right, high school romances can be fun — for some people. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

  I ignored her passive-aggressive comment and spotted Ryan’s mom and eight-year-old stepsister seated a section over from us. “I’m going to say hi to Ryan’s family, since, you know, I’m only a pawn in the high school romance hierarchy. Gee,” I raised my voice into a fake coo, “I hope I’ll be able to make it over there all by myself without my boyfriend to escort me.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  Which was true, but what was also true was that Tracy’s negative opinion on dating guys in high school came from me.

  Katie, Ryan’s stepsister, waved happily when she saw me approaching. “Hi, Penny!” she called out. She had on an oversize McKinley sweatshirt.

  I gave her a quick hug as Ryan’s mom moved over to make room for me.

  “Great to see you, Penny.” Her eyes went over to the Club. “I see you convinced the girls to come out tonight. That’s great. I can’t believe how big the group has gotten. And you’ve broken out beyond Parkview — you must be so excited.”

  That familiar sense of pride arose in me. “Thanks, I really can’t believe …” My voice trailed off as Ryan’s mom put her hand up to her mouth like she was about to be sick.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  She nodded in disbelief. “Yeah, it’s …”

  I looked over to the entrance where an older guy had walked in. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. He had on dark jeans and a seemingly expensive black leather jacket. He was tall, lean, with black wavy hair with some gray around the temples, and blue eyes.

  “Is that Ryan’s dad?” I asked, almost scared for the reply.

  Ryan’s mom nodded her head slowly. “Yeah. I guess if the mountain won’t come to Mohammad …”

  It was clear that she’d had no idea he was coming, so I had a feeling Ryan was also clueless. His reaction
, though, would be much more furious than shock.

  “I, ah, should go,” I excused myself. It looked like he was going to come over, and I didn’t want to be there when he did. I didn’t want to meet Ryan’s dad, especially after what he’d put Ryan through. I didn’t want to betray Ryan by being polite to his father when his father couldn’t extend the same courtesy to his only child.

  Once I got back to my seat, I studied Ryan during their warm-up to see when the realization would kick in that his father was there. I couldn’t figure out a way to warn him. Maybe he already knew and was doing an excellent job of ignoring him. I knew he was a very focused athlete, but there was no way this wouldn’t affect him.

  After the national anthem, the starting players were announced. The Club cheered loudly for McKinley, although we were significantly more subdued when Todd was introduced. When Ryan’s name was called, he ran out to the middle of the court and high-fived his fellow teammates. He looked over briefly to where his mother was sitting, then froze.

  He saw his dad.

  Anybody else seeing Ryan probably wouldn’t have noticed anything, since he quickly returned to shaking out his arms and legs. The team went back into a huddle. Todd said something to Ryan, which resulted in Ryan pushing him away. I couldn’t tell if it was typical teammate teasing or Todd being his general loser self.

  From the tip-off, it was clear that Ryan was not in the zone. He missed his first basket, lost control of the ball, and failed to stop a simple layup when he was on defense. And that was only the first two minutes of the game.

  Ryan Bauer didn’t miss shots. He didn’t let the other team score. And he certainly didn’t lose his composure.

  But this was not his day.

  After Ryan missed another shot, he ran down the court, his cheeks flush from frustration, his jaw tightly clenched.

  “COME ON, RYAN! FOCUS!” his dad screamed.

  Todd looked up in the stands and a smirk crept onto his face when he realized who was there.