Lauren Holmes - Barbara the Slut and Other People

“What’s up?” I said.

“Not a whole lot,” said my brother.

I poured myself a bowl of Lucky Charms and sat down.

Dylan started crying. “How come she gets to eat them?” he howled.

My mom looked at me and rolled her eyes. “What’s up is Tina and Dylan are going to the amusement park, Noah is going on a hike with Petey, Mak is still golfing, and Andy is going to take a rest day.”

A couple of summers ago, my mom started letting Noah take hikes instead of going to the beach. Not coincidentally, that was the year he turned thirteen and started smoking weed. My mom and Mak knew what he was doing, but they didn’t care. My mom had been a pothead in high school and Mak still smoked, and they thought it was better than drinking. At first they said he couldn’t do it in the house, and on cold nights my brother would put a sweatshirt on Petey, put a parka, a ski mask, and goggles on himself, and they would go for walks. The second winter Noah started smoking in his room, and I didn’t know whether he thought nobody noticed or he just didn’t care.

“Can I go on the hike with Noah and Petey?” said Dylan.

“No,” said Tina.

“Why not?” he said.

“Uh,” said Tina and looked at my mom.

“I don’t want to go to the amusement park,” he said.

He said it so sincerely that I almost felt bad for him.

“Well,” said Tina. “I’m sure Noah doesn’t want you to tag along.”

“I don’t mind,” said Noah.

“I guess I could go with you guys,” said Tina.

“No!” said Dylan. “Noah gets to go by himself!”

“Noah is sixteen,” said Tina. “You’re twelve.”

“I’m almost thirteen,” said Dylan.

“You turned twelve last month,” said Tina. “Let me think about this.”

“It’s obviously not my call,” said my mom, “but I know Noah would take good care of him and not do anything stupid. Right, honey?”

“Yeah,” said Noah.

Dylan lunged at his mom with his hands together, begging.

“I’ll talk to your father,” said Tina. She turned to my mom. “If the kids go hiking, we could get mani-pedis.”

“I would love to, but I just got one,” said my mom.

“We could get lunch,” said Tina.

“I promised Natalie I would go to the beach with her,” said my mom. “Maybe another day?”

• • •

While Tina and Andy deliberated, Noah went out for a short walk, my mom packed lunches for everyone, and I went upstairs to put on my bathing suit. Dylan watched a show in the living room. Apparently he was usually allowed to watch one show a day, but since it was vacation he was allowed to watch two. I walked through the living room and Dylan screamed at me.

“You made me miss a part!” he said. “Now I have to rewind it and watch it again!”

“Okay,” I said. “Sorry.”

From what I could tell, he watched a lot more than two shows a day. The night before, I heard him watching on a computer in his room. His parents didn’t seem to notice. They thought he was the smartest kid ever. I didn’t think he was that smart, but he was probably too smart to be trusted. If he were my kid, I would never have let him out of my sight. Best case, he would watch anime until he had a seizure, worst case, who knows.

Finally Tina came downstairs with a verdict. Dylan could go on the hike with Noah for a maximum of four hours. Every hour, on the hour, he would call Tina to check in. He would take Andy’s cell phone. When the four hours were up, the boys would come back to the house. On their way back they could stop at the convenience store to get a snack, but they had to come home to eat it, no loitering.

Dylan was flying around the room, not hearing the instructions. Tina had to sit him down and repeat them.

“I really think they’ll be okay.” My mom stared at Noah.

“We’ll be fine,” said Noah.

The boys left for the park, Tina left for town, and my mom and I left for the beach.

“Tina will never speak to me again if Noah gives Dylan weed,” said my mom.

“He won’t,” I said.

“That kid could really use some weed,” she said.

“Maybe, but Noah isn’t going to give it to him,” I said.

• • •

We lay on the beach and my mom read and I listened to music. I liked to listen to one song on repeat, and for the past week or so I had been listening to this song from the seventies.

My mom went in the water and then sat on my back. “What’re you listening to?”

“This song called ‘I’ve Never Been to Me,’” I said.

“I know that song,” she said.

“You do?” I said.

“Yeah, the one about not having kids?”

“No, it’s about traveling.”

“No, it’s about not having kids. The singer regrets all of her sleeping around and traveling around and stuff.”

“Are you sure?” I said.

“You’re the one listening to it,” she said. “Why don’t you listen to the lyrics?”

“I am, it’s all these names of places.”

“Nat, I know that song. It was popular when I was in college. All my girlfriends hated it.”

I listened a few more times and decided I still wanted it to be about traveling. I wanted to break up with James and go to any of the faraway places in the song: Monte Carlo, Nice, the Isle of Greece.

• • •

I met James my first week of college, and we dated all last year. I stopped liking him a little bit over winter break, when he called every day and I started dreading his calls. When we were at school I didn’t mind hanging out with him every day, and every night for that matter. I had sort of had boyfriends in high school, but none who wanted to hang out with me day and night, and none who left me little notes, and none who really, really liked going down on me. I guess there were some red flags, but I didn’t know what “red flags” were at the time, and my mom had to tell me what that term meant. The hanging out all the time was probably a red flag, as were the little notes, as was the fact that I would fall asleep while he was going down on me and he would just keep going. Anyway, I didn’t get sick of any of that until winter break, and then he wouldn’t stop calling, and suddenly I got sick of all of it at the same time. But when we got back to school he was so nice and I didn’t really know anybody else, so I didn’t break up with him but I made a lot of rules. We were only allowed to hang out every other day, and we were only allowed to spend the night every other time we hung out. I got the timing for this rule from my bathing rule as a kid — I had to take a bath every other day and wash my hair every other bath. As a kid it seemed like more than enough hair washing, and in college it seemed like more than enough James.

James didn’t do well with the rules, so I had to make more rules — no surprising me outside of my classes on the days we weren’t supposed to hang out, and then no surprising me even on the days we were supposed to hang out. Then no surprising me with my favorite breakfasts from the dining hall when I was on my way out of my dorm. And then no surprising me at all, for any reason.

Basically, my first year of college was a total bust. I didn’t make any friends, and I didn’t do well in any of my classes, and I didn’t learn anything about life. All I did was date James. And by the end of the year I didn’t even want to do that. I told James we could talk on the phone over the summer, but that I was going to be busy and I wasn’t going to be able to visit or talk every day or even every other day, due to the being busy. He seemed fine with that and every time we talked he said he couldn’t wait to see me in the fall. He also sent me notes and presents, including an Entenmann’s coffee cake that I love, overnighted, like they don’t have those where I live. After a month of this I couldn’t take it anymore, and I came up with the plan of breaking up with him on the way to Emerald Isle in August. Then I waited for weeks and weeks, and here we were, lying on the beach, vacation ruined. I felt better than I had in the car when the muffler first fell off, but this was supposed to be the first week of the rest of my life, when things were going to start getting better.