Pieces of Us by Margie Gelbwasser Page B

her for her soul?”
    “Babushka and Dedushka are here.”
    He laughs. “How long do you think it will be before they kick it? And they only have us for the summers. Face it, I’m all you’ve got.”
    Your throat goes dry as the truthfulness of that sinks in. Sometimes you think your mother cares, but she’s too busy trying to bring in money any way she can to see anything else.
    He watches your face, amused, knowing he got you. He takes another puff of cigarette and moves in likes he’s going to punch you, but at the last moment moves his hand and combs his fingers through his hair. “Psych,” he says, laughing.
    Julie could be someone else who’s there for you. She could be a way to freedom.
    “Fine,” you say, “I’ll ask Julie out.” The words come out thin. You don’t want to ask her. You don’t want to ask her because of him . Why does everything have to be on his terms? How did that happen? Why do you still let it happen?
    “Well, bravo.” He claps real slow, like in the movies. “I think I see a ball,” he says looking at the zipper of your pants. “But word of advice? It’s summer, asshole. You don’t need a whole production. Just grab her, give her some tongue, and don’t worry about a relationship.”
    You’re quiet as the red surrounds you again. You know right then that he’ll fuck everything up. Just like he did before.
    “You still there?” he asks. When you don’t say anything, he gives you a cigarette.
    You inhale deep and feel the burn in your lungs. You hate it but do it again. You need the burn. You need the pain. That’s the only thing that feels in your control right now. You inhale again and again and again.

Katie
     
    M ama is here for a three-day weekend and making my life hell.
    “How can you live here, Katie? It’s so … so … primitive.” She frowns.
    “That’s the appeal, and it’s Katya .”
    She waves her arm at me like I’m a bug she’s trying to swat. It grazes the sticky fly-catching paper hanging from the ceiling and she shrieks. I bite my lip not to laugh. “Primitive,” she mumbles.
    “Why did you come?” I swear I can smell Jersey on her.
    She looks at me like she hasn’t heard me right. “To spice things up for you. Bring some civilization back.” She holds up her cell phone proudly.
    “It won’t work here. You know that.” I take it from her and show her the little line through the phone. “See? No reception.” Thank God.
    She pouts. “And here I thought I was doing you a favor. Figured you could text your friends. I’m sure I could drive you somewhere with email.”
    That’s the last thing I want. “I’m fine.”
    She shakes her head. “You can tell me the truth—Babushka is outside. We’re the same, you and me. You need adventure, the buzz. The phone ringing, the parties. We don’t do well when we’re forced to blend into the background. I saw it after Ethan broke up with you.”
    I want to tell her I’ve been in the forefront of too much buzz. I want the background. Disappearing in the summer is heaven. She takes my silence for agreement.
    “I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. And look where we are.” She spreads her hands out to illustrate, but I know she also means Cherry Hill, not just here.
    “What’s so bad about where we are?” I ask it as if I really don’t know. She needs to think we’re alike, and I’m scared to tell her we aren’t. Scared to tell her I haven’t been fun, free-spirited Katie for a while.
    “Nothing, if you never had more. But I almost did.”
    I know this story. The popular frat guy she lost because she stripped in front of all his friends after too much booze. Disgrace runs in the family. The thing is, she never told me this story. I heard her talking with Babushka long ago. I knew better than to tell her I knew.
    “But you met Dad, so it all worked out.” I want her to stop talking and leave. The phone, even though barless, is offensive on the bed. I feel