The Opportunist
Page 24
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The decision was made. I told Cammie about the abortion as we sat bent over our dinner trays in the cafeteria.
“You’re kidding,” she said as a French-fry dropped from her mouth.
“No,” I said swallowing the lump in my throat. “I overheard her talking to that tall girl about it—the one who picks her scabs.”
I stuffed the last of my fries into my mouth and licked the salt off my lips.
“Nadia?” asked Cammie, pushing her plate away.
“Yes, Nadia, but you can’t tell anyone I told you Cam, I mean how horrible would it be if that got out?”
I studied my roommate’s pretty face and frowned. Perhaps, this would be the one time that Cammie kept her mouth shut. What would I do then?
“Do you think Caleb would care, I mean do you think he would have wanted to keep it?”
I stared at her glittering eyes and felt a sinking in my stomach. I never really thought about that one. He would have wanted to keep it. I knew that in my heart. The way he had spoken about his family that night at Jackson’s he told me that he wanted to be a father. I closed my wicked eyes and sighed.
“Why would you think I would know the answer to that question?”
Cammie shrugged. “You kinda know him. I mean you spent some time with him right, I just thought—”
“I don’t know anything about him,” I snapped, standing up and grabbing my tray. Except that I wanted him more than anything else in the world. I looked down at Cammie and felt panic. This was it.
Cammie had diarrhea of the mouth. It was going to be all over the school and fast. I had now officially secured my front row seat on the train to Hell.
Choo choo!
“I’m going back to the dorms,” I said. I wanted her to follow me so that I could keep an eye on her. I wasn’t sure that I wanted…
“Ok. I’m going to hang here for a while.” Cammie smiled sugar-sweetly up at me. Her face looked innocent, but her eyes looked evil. I could see the gossip monster crawling its way up her esophagus and pushing frantically behind her mouth to be let out.
I turned on my heels and fled before she could see the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes.
Choo choo…
News of the abortion spun and chortled through the gossip chain until it reached Caleb two days later. It was an ex-girlfriend who delivered Caleb the blow. She took her first chance to ax Jessica in order to win him back. I had watched her give Jessica dirty looks for the last few weeks. I recognized them because I was giving them too.
The entire break up took less than ten minutes. It was witnessed by a large portion of the student body who hovered on the scene like flies over a bleeding carcass. I was not there but was told by Cammie who had a front-row seat. The ex timed it perfectly, telling Caleb right before he was supposed to meet Jessica for dinner, and then standing back to watch. Jessica found Caleb waiting for her on the steps to the cafeteria. Their exchange was a brief. Jessica in hysterics, admitted everything to Caleb, who some say punched a wall and others say threw a bench at a tree. In actuality, he walked away from her stony faced and never spoke a word to her again. Jessica left for home a day after the commotion and purportedly left all of her belongings behind. I wondered if she knew it was me—if she even thought about me after that day or if my face blurred into that place where all of the non-popular’s belonged.
I wore my guilt for a week. It was like a firm hand pressing down on the back of my neck. I hung my head in shame and lurked around the dorms like a shadow. By day eight, I was already justifying what I had done.
I was ensconced in self-love. I had taken advantage of a girl looking for someone to trust and I used her predicament for my own personal gain. I was my father’s child. I hated myself.
My father—Oliver Kaspen, no middle name, was the worst sort of bastard a woman could drop from her loins. My mother used to say that he was a carbon copy of Elvis, dark and sexy, with bedroom eyes. He had the type of mouth that said pretty thing,s but when things got thin, it would curl into a hateful grin and cut you where it hurt. But, before he would peel off the overcoat of charm he wore, and before he would tell you that the only reason he was only with you was because of the ugly brat you bore, he was all smiles and kisses and compliments. That’s how he got my mother and that’s how he got me—the ugly brat.
He only stayed for three years after my birth, before shuffling off with his duffel bag over his shoulder. Periodically, through my tweens he would ‘reconcile’ with my mom, taking up residence on the left side of her bed, before once again jockeying off to sow his wild oats elsewhere. He gambled our grocery money, swore at us when he lost it, and he never batted a guilty eye when we had nothing to eat but a box of stale saltines. My dad.
Once, when our cabinets were empty, and I was hungrily gnawing on my thumb, he disappeared with my mother’s last dollar. My five year old mind thought that he was off to find some food, but hours later, he came back smelling so strongly of philly cheese steak, it made my mouth water. Oliver Kaspen looked out for Oliver Kaspen. Ouch. That had been the straw that broke my mother’s back. She kicked him out of our crappy studio apartment with a string of swear words I had never heard before.
The feeding frenzy for Caleb began shortly after Jessica left. Girls clamored for Caleb's attention like chimps on crack.
“He’s got the banana that every girl wants,” Jim commented one afternoon as we watched a couple of blondes bob around him like loosely tethered helium balloons. Caleb was laughing at something one of them said. She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek to which he blushed and pulled back in surprise. I looked away jealous. I couldn’t take much more of this. I was mentally murdering someone new every five minutes.
My opportunity came the same day I flunked my Latin test. I had never received as much as a C in my entire educational career, so the large F circled in red and underlined twice, came as pureed brain shock. I was losing my grip. I couldn’t concentrate. Caleb had rooted himself in my mind like a parasite and he was feeding on my emotions and thoughts. Something had to be done. I was between buildings clutching my test to my chest and staring glassy eyed at a random brick in the wall when someone walked by and shoved a flyer into my hand. Normally I would have tossed it but this time, blame it on my moment of shock, I turned it over.
ZAX PARTY
Where? Where else?
When? Saturday at 10:00
“You’re kidding,” she said as a French-fry dropped from her mouth.
“No,” I said swallowing the lump in my throat. “I overheard her talking to that tall girl about it—the one who picks her scabs.”
I stuffed the last of my fries into my mouth and licked the salt off my lips.
“Nadia?” asked Cammie, pushing her plate away.
“Yes, Nadia, but you can’t tell anyone I told you Cam, I mean how horrible would it be if that got out?”
I studied my roommate’s pretty face and frowned. Perhaps, this would be the one time that Cammie kept her mouth shut. What would I do then?
“Do you think Caleb would care, I mean do you think he would have wanted to keep it?”
I stared at her glittering eyes and felt a sinking in my stomach. I never really thought about that one. He would have wanted to keep it. I knew that in my heart. The way he had spoken about his family that night at Jackson’s he told me that he wanted to be a father. I closed my wicked eyes and sighed.
“Why would you think I would know the answer to that question?”
Cammie shrugged. “You kinda know him. I mean you spent some time with him right, I just thought—”
“I don’t know anything about him,” I snapped, standing up and grabbing my tray. Except that I wanted him more than anything else in the world. I looked down at Cammie and felt panic. This was it.
Cammie had diarrhea of the mouth. It was going to be all over the school and fast. I had now officially secured my front row seat on the train to Hell.
Choo choo!
“I’m going back to the dorms,” I said. I wanted her to follow me so that I could keep an eye on her. I wasn’t sure that I wanted…
“Ok. I’m going to hang here for a while.” Cammie smiled sugar-sweetly up at me. Her face looked innocent, but her eyes looked evil. I could see the gossip monster crawling its way up her esophagus and pushing frantically behind her mouth to be let out.
I turned on my heels and fled before she could see the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes.
Choo choo…
News of the abortion spun and chortled through the gossip chain until it reached Caleb two days later. It was an ex-girlfriend who delivered Caleb the blow. She took her first chance to ax Jessica in order to win him back. I had watched her give Jessica dirty looks for the last few weeks. I recognized them because I was giving them too.
The entire break up took less than ten minutes. It was witnessed by a large portion of the student body who hovered on the scene like flies over a bleeding carcass. I was not there but was told by Cammie who had a front-row seat. The ex timed it perfectly, telling Caleb right before he was supposed to meet Jessica for dinner, and then standing back to watch. Jessica found Caleb waiting for her on the steps to the cafeteria. Their exchange was a brief. Jessica in hysterics, admitted everything to Caleb, who some say punched a wall and others say threw a bench at a tree. In actuality, he walked away from her stony faced and never spoke a word to her again. Jessica left for home a day after the commotion and purportedly left all of her belongings behind. I wondered if she knew it was me—if she even thought about me after that day or if my face blurred into that place where all of the non-popular’s belonged.
I wore my guilt for a week. It was like a firm hand pressing down on the back of my neck. I hung my head in shame and lurked around the dorms like a shadow. By day eight, I was already justifying what I had done.
I was ensconced in self-love. I had taken advantage of a girl looking for someone to trust and I used her predicament for my own personal gain. I was my father’s child. I hated myself.
My father—Oliver Kaspen, no middle name, was the worst sort of bastard a woman could drop from her loins. My mother used to say that he was a carbon copy of Elvis, dark and sexy, with bedroom eyes. He had the type of mouth that said pretty thing,s but when things got thin, it would curl into a hateful grin and cut you where it hurt. But, before he would peel off the overcoat of charm he wore, and before he would tell you that the only reason he was only with you was because of the ugly brat you bore, he was all smiles and kisses and compliments. That’s how he got my mother and that’s how he got me—the ugly brat.
He only stayed for three years after my birth, before shuffling off with his duffel bag over his shoulder. Periodically, through my tweens he would ‘reconcile’ with my mom, taking up residence on the left side of her bed, before once again jockeying off to sow his wild oats elsewhere. He gambled our grocery money, swore at us when he lost it, and he never batted a guilty eye when we had nothing to eat but a box of stale saltines. My dad.
Once, when our cabinets were empty, and I was hungrily gnawing on my thumb, he disappeared with my mother’s last dollar. My five year old mind thought that he was off to find some food, but hours later, he came back smelling so strongly of philly cheese steak, it made my mouth water. Oliver Kaspen looked out for Oliver Kaspen. Ouch. That had been the straw that broke my mother’s back. She kicked him out of our crappy studio apartment with a string of swear words I had never heard before.
The feeding frenzy for Caleb began shortly after Jessica left. Girls clamored for Caleb's attention like chimps on crack.
“He’s got the banana that every girl wants,” Jim commented one afternoon as we watched a couple of blondes bob around him like loosely tethered helium balloons. Caleb was laughing at something one of them said. She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek to which he blushed and pulled back in surprise. I looked away jealous. I couldn’t take much more of this. I was mentally murdering someone new every five minutes.
My opportunity came the same day I flunked my Latin test. I had never received as much as a C in my entire educational career, so the large F circled in red and underlined twice, came as pureed brain shock. I was losing my grip. I couldn’t concentrate. Caleb had rooted himself in my mind like a parasite and he was feeding on my emotions and thoughts. Something had to be done. I was between buildings clutching my test to my chest and staring glassy eyed at a random brick in the wall when someone walked by and shoved a flyer into my hand. Normally I would have tossed it but this time, blame it on my moment of shock, I turned it over.
ZAX PARTY
Where? Where else?
When? Saturday at 10:00
