At 21, Part 4

1992


Something odd is going on. I’ve got that chilling kind of feeling, that sense of quiet panic, like when I’m home alone in the middle of the night and I suddenly feel as if I’m being watched. That’s what I’ve got. That ghost-in-the-room feeling. Like I’m empty inside. Like I’m a hollow shell and someone is banging on me with my stolen bones. No one here wants to look me in the eye. A secret has been revealed and I’m the only one who doesn’t know it. How does that saying go? If you’re not sure who the asshole in the room is, it’s probably you. Well, I’m definitely the asshole.

I’ve been at work for an hour and Elisa has been avoiding me the entire time. Usually, when she returns home from a weekend with her boyfriend, she’s thrilled to see me; usually, she showers me with kisses in the walk-in freezer and tells me how much she missed me; usually, the tips of our tongues meet and a small jolt of electricity is shared. After days apart, she always tells me how much she would have rather spent the weekend with me. How wonderful and understanding I am. How one day soon she’ll dump the boyfriend and we can finally become a couple. But something has changed. I was not showered with kisses by Elisa when I arrived at work today. I wasn’t even trickled with kisses. She’s ashamed. I can see it in those big chestnut eyes of hers. Those eyes that won’t make contact with mine. Those wet, red-streaked eyes. The store is busy so I don’t have a chance to speak to her. All I get are quick glances. I drop a pizza in the oven and notice Elisa looking back, but she quickly averts her eyes as soon as she notices that I’m staring. Whatever is going on, I know it’s not good.

Maybe I should just remain blissfully ignorant forever. Maybe I should grab hold of Elisa’s shoulders and pull her into the bathroom. Maybe I should say, "I don’t care what’s going on. I don’t want to know. I just want to be with you. I really don’t care. Don’t tell me. Please, don’t tell. Nothing will ever be the same once you tell. Whatever it is you’re holding inside will be the death of us. Never speak of it." But I won’t do that. I need to know. Need to know how much of an asshole I truly am. Am I asshole for falling in love with a girl who’s already taken? An asshole for believing her when she says she’s going to dump him? It’s been months, and the situation has not changed. Elisa spends the week with me, the weekends with her boyfriend. She has sex with both of us. Call me crazy, I’d like her to stop having sex with the other guy. But now that something has changed, I’m scared to death.

So I think, What’s the worst news she could possibly tell me? She’s pregnant? Maybe, but unlikely. She’s on the pill, and very strict about taking it, as far as I know. I’m fairly certain that a girl who’s sleeping with two different men is going to do everything she can not to get pregnant. I also remember her mentioning something about an ovarian cyst, about her maybe not being able to ever bear children. What else? She doesn’t want to be with me anymore? Could be, but doubtful. When we left each other last, as she was leaving for her weekend away with the jerky boyfriend, she admitted to being madly in love with me. "I’ve never felt like this about anyone," she said, tears in her eyes. Truth in her eyes. Maybe she acquired an STD and is too embarrassed to tell me. I make a mental note to check my genitals for discolorations, bumps, and strange little creatures as soon as possible. I would take the STD (a curable one, anyway), as long as I didn’t have to lose Elisa; that’s how much I fucking love her.

I’m at the make-table with Manny, my best friend. He’s dark-skinned and handsome, a real charmer. We’ve been best friends for awhile now, since I drifted apart from Vito, my former best friend. Manny has a big smile and a sinister laugh. A smile like The Joker from the Batman comics. Manny has smooth, dark, perfect El Salvadorian skin. He always smells nice, always has a powerful, manly scent, despite working with grease and onions and filth on a daily basis. Manny tells me that I smell like sour milk, but, then again, he says, "All white people smell like sour milk." He says that all the time, just to piss me off, just to watch me sniff myself. We were both nerds in high school, but now we’re exceedingly cool. Or so we like to think. He had an epiphany a few summers back, after watching Sid & Nancy, and returned to school in the fall with a leather jacket, a Sex Pistols button, and a near-permanent sneer.

"What’s going on with Elisa?" I ask, staring at a string of white order slips hanging in front of me. I’m saucing and cheesing the pizzas, then handing them off to Manny, who adds the toppings and seasonings. We have a system. We’re a good team. We make perfect pizzas. Except for the occasional pizza that Manny spits in if he spots someone he doesn’t like sitting in the dining room. But that hardly ever happens. Almost never. Rarely. Somewhat infrequently. Definitely not every day.

"Look, Erv, it’s none of my business, so I’m not saying anything."

"But you know something, right?"

He smiles. Big. All teeth. Perfectly-straight, white teeth. "I always know something, my friend. Who do you think you’re talking to here?"

"I need you to tell me what’s going on. Why is Elisa acting so strange today? You’ve been here all day. What have you heard?"

At Pizza Tent, secrets rise like heat. Everyone is in everyone else’s business. All up in it. My relationship with Elisa is common knowledge, though I’ve spoken about it to no one except Manny. Although we may have been spotted making out in my car after closing, because we make out after closing in my car every night. We are not careful, because the only person who can’t find out about our relationship is her boyfriend, and he lives across the bridge in Philly. He’s not even in the same state, so it’s hardly like Elisa is even cheating on him. We go through the motions at work, pretending that we’re not fucking every night. But everyone knows that we are. We’re fucking every night that she’s not fucking the other guy. My relationship with Elisa is an open secret. Everyone knows, but at least they have the courtesy to whisper when they gossip about it.

Manny shakes his head while sliding a large hand-tossed pepperoni pie onto the oven. We’re the only two people currently in the back of the store, and even though we’re not too far away from the cashiers and managers in the front of the store, the oven’s loud hum grants us our privacy. Waitresses occasionally walk back to drop off dirty dishes, but they’re too busy to pay us much mind.

"You don’t want to hear this," he says. "You’ll cry like a bitch."

I stare into his eyes, squeeze his shoulder. "I do," I say. "I need to know what’s up. Look, Manny, I’m in love with her. I’ve never been in love before, not like this. She makes me crazy. She makes my skin burn. She also makes me really fucking happy. You gotta talk to me, man. I’m losing it."

He glances from side to side, searching for eavesdroppers. "She’s not the one for you."

"I think she is."

"You think wrong."

"Screw you."

He squeezes my shoulder and says, "You’re too nice for Elisa. You’re delicate and fragile. Dainty."

"I am not fucking dainty!" I snap.

He sighs, then leans in close and whispers into my ear. "That guy she’s got in Philly. He asked her to marry him."

I feel a sharp jab in my stomach, like I’ve just been gutted with a jagged knife.

"They’re engaged, Erv. That’s why she can’t look at you. Elisa and her boyfriend are going to get married. He asked her and she said ‘yes.’ That’s the deal."

I turn my head and catch Elisa staring at me. Her face is pink, with sweat dripping from her chin. From my expression, I’m sure she knows what Manny just told me. The orange light from the oven reflects from her wet eyes. She looks away. I check out her hands. No ring.

"You gotta forget about that slut. I’m serious. She’s gonna cause you nothing but heartache. Trust me, I know about this shit. She’s wrong for you. I’ll bet she’s gonna keep right on fucking you, too, if you let it go on, right up until the wedding, maybe even after. But getting your dick wet ain’t worth all the pain that’s gonna come your way in return. If it were me, I’d keep fucking her, but I don’t have that problem you got of being pussy-whipped, you see."

"You’re right," I say. "I’ve got to be a man about this."

He smacks me hard on the back. "That’s my boy."

The order tickets begin to pile up. We’re swamped. The dinner rush is hectic, but we’re good enough to handle it. We’re the best. I don’t want it to slow down. I want the rush to last forever. As long as I’m busy, life stands still. Nothing can change. No one can hurt me while I’m making pizzas.

The orders stop coming. Customers are leaving. The dinner rush is coming to a close. I don’t want to stop working, stop moving, because that’s when real life takes over. I’m staring at my cheese-covered fingers when Manny nudges me. I look up and see Elisa. She motions toward the walk-in freezer, mouths Follow me.

I follow, as if Elisa had bitten my neck once during sex and put her vampire obedience curse on me. She beckons, I follow.

"Let me explain," she says, her breath clouding in front of her.

"Sure," I say, the loud hum of the freezer’s cooling system nearly drowning out my words. We’re alone in a small, cold box, surrounded by meats and cheeses.

"I don’t love him."

"Then why are you going to marry him?"

"It’s complicated."

I take her hand in mine, lift it to eye level. "Where’s the ring?"

"I’m not going to wear it to work. I might ruin it."

She leans in and kisses me. Her lips are frigid.

"I thought you were going to dump him."

"I am," she says.

"You have a funny way of breaking up with a guy."

"You wouldn't understand."

"I guess you won’t be coming over tonight." I try to smile, but I can’t hold it. It breaks down. Collapses. My mouth refuses to cooperate.

"I want to come over," she says, running her fingers across my cheek. "I want to see you. Let me come over. I still want to be with you. Pretend I’m not engaged. Let’s just keep on doing what we’ve been doing. I’m not going to marry him. I promise you. I’m going to give him the ring back. It’s you I love. Can I come over tonight? Can I spend the night? We'll work this out. I know we will. Tell me I can come over and be with you."

No, no, no. Do not let this madness continue I think. I have to stop this relationship once and for all before this girl tramples on my heart even more. I stare into her eyes and say, "Yes, come over."

We’re both shivering when we kiss, and a small piece of skin from my bottom lip breaks off and sticks to her mouth. Every time I see her, this girl takes a small piece of me and never gives any of the pieces back. She swallows them.