I did get a lot of interest from the boys around town, but none of them piqued my interest at all; for starters, none of them were blond enough, had eyes green enough, or smiled in just the right way; also, in some strange way, I felt that dating any of them would be betraying Davey; he was the one, none of them were him, ergo I wasn’t interested, period…
Mom was worried that I wasn’t dating anyone; I think she was more concerned that I wasn’t all girly-girly than anything else, and my disinterest in the local boys worried her; maybe she thought I was limbering-up to bat for the other team; anyway, my Senior Prom showed me why I was right to avoid the local boys…
One of the brainless jocks who played football in some capacity or other seemed to have a thing about me; as I wasn’t interested in low-brow, neckless, shambling idiots, I brushed him off every time he tried to use his ‘wit’ and ‘charm’ on me (and when I say wit, I was only half right, coupled with the fact he had all the charm of a turd sandwich) I either looked him up and down, giggled, and walked away, or gave him the patented Lori Keene ‘Ice-Pick In The Brain’ Stare of Painful Death.
Chummy, however, was too boneheaded to get it; in common with the rest of the ham-headed yacks who made up the team, he believed he was irresistible, possibly because the school looked the other way when he and his buddies regularly beat kids up, committed what would be considered serious sexual harassment (and the rumoured occasional assault) if it happened anyplace outside the school gates, and generally behaved like a herd of entitled trolls because they won games regularly. Rah-Rah-Rah…
So, come the Senior Prom, I was flying solo because I’d turned down everyone who’d asked me, for the reasons given above, but Mom made me go, because ‘a girl’s not supposed to miss her Senior Prom’. Whatever. This idiot was there with some girl who looked terrified, probably because she knew what ‘Prom-Night Magic’ was in store for her later. I noticed him giving me the up and down, ignored him, as I usually did, and went to get a drink from the drinking fountain, because the punch was probably spiked by one of those imbeciles; it was the kind of thing they’d do, because they were imbeciles.
Once I had my drink, I began the countdown to when I could leave; I didn’t want to be there, but Josie and Sara had dates, so I felt obliged to hang around and keep an eye on them, just in case their dates decided they were due a little ‘Prom-Night Magic’ all of their own, regardless of Josie and Sara’s opinions on the matter.
While I was hanging back, basically keeping out of sight, I overheard the moron who’d been eyeing me tell his equally moronic buddies he had plans for me; he had a little something he was going to slip in my drink so I’d be easy to get to one of the hourly-rate motels up on the turnpike, where he’d show me what a man was made of.
I’ll admit, I saw red; my first instinct was to go to the craft shop, find a needle file, and needle the fucker through his right eye, but then I thought: “Why wait?”, so I marched up to him, smiled, put my hand on his shoulder, and when he smirked in triumph that I’d finally come through, kneed him in the balls so hard his eyes actually bugged out, then, for good measure, I did it again. Daddy and Davey had taught me well, I worked out a lot at home, and all of that went into turning that joker’s balls into jelly.
His buddies watched in shock as he folded, clutching where his balls used to be, alternating between whining and puking, but they got the message; touch me, and I show you the quick way to a life singing soprano…
Round about that time, Josie came storming up, dragging Sara with her; it turns out their dates HAD been expecting a serious amount of gratitude from them for asking them to the prom, so they’d disposed of those two creeps in like fashion, and with that, we stalked out of there, drove home, and spent the night hating boys.
(Sidebar: I heard a couple days later moron-boy’s prom-date had called her older brothers and told them what that idiot was planning to do to her, and where, and while details are hazy, apparently an unknown and unknowable someone or someones were waiting for him when Prom ended, took him somewhere scenic, miles from anywhere, and kicked living shit out of him, broke both his arms at the elbow, busted his knee and ankle with a baseball bat, and fractured his pelvis with same; I have no idea who it was, it’s just another one of those small-town mysteries that will probably never be solved…
I hear he details cars for a living now, no college sports scholarships for him, not with a pronounced limp, a trick knee, and restricted hand-eye coordination…)
All the same, once I finally and irrevocably admitted to myself that Davey was what I wanted, it just made everything worse, because now I was trapped, wanting him so badly it was a physical pain in my chest, but knowing he was the one boy in the entire world I couldn’t have, no matter how much I pined for him, lusted for him, wanted him.
When my friends were out having as much fun as it’s possible to have in Des Moines when you’re under 21, I was at home, like as not crying in my room, then having to face Mom with my eyes puffed and red from crying over that damned picture, and lie barefaced and bold to her and Daddy about why I always looked so dragged-out and miserable these days.
Mom kept trying to find a chink in the wall I put up around me, but I still couldn’t let her in; whatever I was feeling about Davey, it was still surrounded by a pall of shame and guilt, and I couldn’t take the chance of telling her in case she felt that loathing and disgust I’d once felt; I knew if she found out, I’d have lost her as well.
All the while this was going on with me, I never really noticed how tired and wan Mom had become until I happened to glance at my graduation picture and stopped dead in shock; she looked like an old woman, her arms and legs thin and frail, her smile vague, her forehead lined and old, and her eyes distant and so, so tired.
With that, I recognized what I’d been seeing for a long time now, but never really registering, how she seemed to be forever stopping what she was doing to just sit and catch her breath, and she’d developed a small, rasping little cough that I barely noticed, and I didn’t take note of, but it never really went away; I began to hear her coughing at night after I’d gone to bed, and it was getting worse.
I asked Mom if she’d seen the doctor recently, but she brushed it all aside, telling me I was a bigger worrier than Daddy; she was just tired, that’s all; it’s what happens when people get old, which alarmed me; Mom wasn’t yet 50, that’s not old, that’s barely middle-aged, but sure enough, every day she got older right before my eyes.
Daddy eventually overrode her objections and pretty much forced her into the Saturn to go see her Oncologist, something she was supposed to do immediately if she got ill or any odd or unexpected symptoms showed up.
They were gone the whole day, and when they came home, they were silent, Daddy was sombre, and he looked like he’d been crying. Mom just looked tired, but then she always did, but there was something else, and I knew what it was; the looks on their faces was enough to tell me. I had to ask her though; I needed to hear it said just once.
“Mom, what happened? What did they say? Why are you so tired all the time? Please Mom, tell me…”
So she did; Daddy tried to speak, but his voice kept breaking, and seeing him so distressed only made me more scared.
“Sweetheart, the doctors gave me a whole lot of tests, they did a PET scan, and an MRI scan, and some other things, and now we know; baby, you’re an adult now, so I’m not going to sugar-coat this; you deserve to know it all. Lori, the cancer is back; it’s spreading, and they can’t do anything about it; there’s really no drugs that can stop it now, because the cancer in my liver has what they called metastasized, which means it’s causing other, different cancers to show up in my kidneys, in my lungs, and in my pancreas…”
She stopped to hold my face between her thin, little hands, seemingly so brittle, but still warm, soft, and motherly, while two big tears spilled from my eyes.
“Don’t… don’t do that baby, please, we always knew this might happen, I’ve been on borrowed time ever since the last time. It’s OK, really, I know it seems like the end of the world right now, but it will be OK, I promise; you and Daddy still have each other, and I’ll be here for you as long as I can; one way or another, I’ll always be with you, Lori, remember that; you’re my baby-girl, and I will always be there when you need me, I promise…”
She was already saying ‘goodbye’, but all I could do was cry in her shoulder; I tried to tell her what I know she wanted to hear, that I’d be OK, that me and Daddy would look after each other, but all I could do was cry and repeat “mamma, mamma…” endlessly, hoping that somewhere, someone or something was listening and would relent and somehow make this all not be happening, admit that it was all a big mistake, and not take my Mommy away from me…