nice knees.
"I didn't figure you for the skirt wearing
type." He says as he pulls back out onto the street.
I smile. "Any girl is the skirt wearing type in
the right circumstances. I thought my hair is a bit harsh so maybe
I should dress respectfully to balance it out."
Schuyler nods. "Should I change?" He asks, eyes
on the road.
I check out his gear. "Nah you're fine." He's
wearing dark jeans and a sweater, almost universally appropriate
for a guy. "Don't want to be late." He nods again. I notice his
knuckles are white from the death grip he has on the wheel.
Traffic's not that heavy. "You Okay?" I ask.
Schuyler sighs. "Yeah, I guess so."
I feel my forehead crinkle with concern. "If
you don't want to go to this..."
He interrupts me. "It's cool." He says. "We
have to go. You saw her die."
Now I'm nervous again. "We're not going to tell
any of them." I say.
"What if they recognize you?"
I nod. "I thought about that too. If they think
I'm Kelly, then I'll just tell them I'm her cousin and use my real
name. That way there's only one lie to keep track of."
Schuyler looks at me sideways. "Okay." He says
but he still seems edgy.
So I say: "You seem edgy. Wanna talk about
it?"
"Uh..." Schuyler taps out a rhythm on the
steering wheel. "Nah, I just need music." He says reaching one
incredibly long arm over to adjust the center console which I don't
think is necessary. I'm pretty sure the Escalade has stereo
controls mounted on its huge, tricked-out steering wheel. This car
makes me want to learn to drive. Now my thought is obliterated by
the Red Hot Chili Peppers who come on half way
through a song. And I burst out singing along. Who doesn't know all
the lyrics to "Suck my Kiss"? Schuyler laughs and I feel good to
have caused it. We drive on listening to almost all of Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magic and singing along with the parts
we know. I feel I should say that, for me, this is all relatively
new music. I like the sweet nostalgic looks people get on their
faces when I tell them what I'm listening to. It makes me feel like
I've tricked them. Since I was discovered naked on the beach, I've
given myself a crash course in pop culture. Thank God for the
internet. I just learned about the Chili Peppers six months ago.
I'd had no idea that the band on the radio singing Hey-oh and Danni California was the
same one I'd discovered under some subset of nineties rock that
played Give it Away Now and that song about fucking a female cop.
It makes me laugh. I think the aging process is ridiculous. I look
forward to it. Maybe I'll cuss less. Needless to say, by the time
we reach Evanston, we're both way too jolly for a memorial. Good
thing we have to drive around for a while to find the place. After
we’ve located the funeral parlor, and found our parking spot,
Schuyler cuts the engine, kills the stereo, and turns to face me.
That tense look is back, so I brace myself.
"Meegan." He says.
"Schuyler." I say.
Now he looks at the cup holder. "I don't want
to be your boyfriend."
I feel my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline.
"Okay." I say like, no big deal .
"It's not that I don't like you." He
says.
"Okay."
"It's just that I don't want to have a kid that
has schizophrenia. Not there's anything bad about schizophrenics,
but it's a hard thing sometimes, and anyway there's evidence it's
hereditary... Well not evidence, but sometime's there's a
correlation. I think the likelihood increases and if both parents
have, like, issues then...” He trails off looking lost.
I laugh. This causes Schuyler to look me in the
eye. "Geeze Schuyler, I appreciate that you've thought this through
but, kids? Yikes." I shake my head. "Don't worry. We don't have to
be boyfriend and girlfriend. You still want to hang out though,
right?"
He nods vigorously. "Yeah, just
no..."
I cut him off. "No kids, gotcha." I
smile.
He shakes his head. "No sex or anything close,
because, obviously..."
Now I'm squinting at him. "So you never have
sex with someone you don't
"I didn't figure you for the skirt wearing
type." He says as he pulls back out onto the street.
I smile. "Any girl is the skirt wearing type in
the right circumstances. I thought my hair is a bit harsh so maybe
I should dress respectfully to balance it out."
Schuyler nods. "Should I change?" He asks, eyes
on the road.
I check out his gear. "Nah you're fine." He's
wearing dark jeans and a sweater, almost universally appropriate
for a guy. "Don't want to be late." He nods again. I notice his
knuckles are white from the death grip he has on the wheel.
Traffic's not that heavy. "You Okay?" I ask.
Schuyler sighs. "Yeah, I guess so."
I feel my forehead crinkle with concern. "If
you don't want to go to this..."
He interrupts me. "It's cool." He says. "We
have to go. You saw her die."
Now I'm nervous again. "We're not going to tell
any of them." I say.
"What if they recognize you?"
I nod. "I thought about that too. If they think
I'm Kelly, then I'll just tell them I'm her cousin and use my real
name. That way there's only one lie to keep track of."
Schuyler looks at me sideways. "Okay." He says
but he still seems edgy.
So I say: "You seem edgy. Wanna talk about
it?"
"Uh..." Schuyler taps out a rhythm on the
steering wheel. "Nah, I just need music." He says reaching one
incredibly long arm over to adjust the center console which I don't
think is necessary. I'm pretty sure the Escalade has stereo
controls mounted on its huge, tricked-out steering wheel. This car
makes me want to learn to drive. Now my thought is obliterated by
the Red Hot Chili Peppers who come on half way
through a song. And I burst out singing along. Who doesn't know all
the lyrics to "Suck my Kiss"? Schuyler laughs and I feel good to
have caused it. We drive on listening to almost all of Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magic and singing along with the parts
we know. I feel I should say that, for me, this is all relatively
new music. I like the sweet nostalgic looks people get on their
faces when I tell them what I'm listening to. It makes me feel like
I've tricked them. Since I was discovered naked on the beach, I've
given myself a crash course in pop culture. Thank God for the
internet. I just learned about the Chili Peppers six months ago.
I'd had no idea that the band on the radio singing Hey-oh and Danni California was the
same one I'd discovered under some subset of nineties rock that
played Give it Away Now and that song about fucking a female cop.
It makes me laugh. I think the aging process is ridiculous. I look
forward to it. Maybe I'll cuss less. Needless to say, by the time
we reach Evanston, we're both way too jolly for a memorial. Good
thing we have to drive around for a while to find the place. After
we’ve located the funeral parlor, and found our parking spot,
Schuyler cuts the engine, kills the stereo, and turns to face me.
That tense look is back, so I brace myself.
"Meegan." He says.
"Schuyler." I say.
Now he looks at the cup holder. "I don't want
to be your boyfriend."
I feel my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline.
"Okay." I say like, no big deal .
"It's not that I don't like you." He
says.
"Okay."
"It's just that I don't want to have a kid that
has schizophrenia. Not there's anything bad about schizophrenics,
but it's a hard thing sometimes, and anyway there's evidence it's
hereditary... Well not evidence, but sometime's there's a
correlation. I think the likelihood increases and if both parents
have, like, issues then...” He trails off looking lost.
I laugh. This causes Schuyler to look me in the
eye. "Geeze Schuyler, I appreciate that you've thought this through
but, kids? Yikes." I shake my head. "Don't worry. We don't have to
be boyfriend and girlfriend. You still want to hang out though,
right?"
He nods vigorously. "Yeah, just
no..."
I cut him off. "No kids, gotcha." I
smile.
He shakes his head. "No sex or anything close,
because, obviously..."
Now I'm squinting at him. "So you never have
sex with someone you don't
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