Read Know Not Why: A Novel for Free Online Page B

me her time-honored Don’t Bullshit Me
look.
    “Seriously, I’m good,” I insist, because it’s
not like I’m ever gonna tell her anything else. “I work with a girl
who has a tongue ring. And a nose ring. And a coat that’s probably
made at least partially from yak. Really, Mom, I’m living the
dream.”
    “Sounds like,” she says wryly.
    We sink into silence. I start wondering about
the chances of Kristy wanting to tag along for Christmas dinner.
Just gotta play this right. For once.
    My mom is pretending to watch the news, in a way
where she keeps sneaking worried glances at me. I take this as a
sign that it’s time to brighten up this evening. I point at her
notebook. “Dare I ask?”
    “Gwendolyn and the Pirate King,” she informs me
with a wicked smile. “Hot love on the high seas.”
    I make a face. “You’re lucky I keep you
around.”
    “Shut it, you.”

    +

    Kristy works the next day. The sun shines, birds
sing, flowers blossom and renewed dreams of her plus me minus
clothes fill my head.
    But then I get a look at her close up, and I
realize that she’s not draped provocatively across the counter to
come-hither me over there, as I first suspected. It’s more like
she’s splayed across it because the effort to keep on standing is
too much to ask of her. Like she’s being steadily pressed down by
the universe. And – wow, she does not look like the Kristy I know.
Her ponytail’s kind of droopy, with strands flying out of it here,
there, and everywhere. She looks majorly sleep deprived. Also
majorly makeup deprived. And it’s not like she looks appalling
without it or anything, but … wow. Maybelline really gets it
done.
    She heaves a great big sigh at the sight of me.
My stomach does a discouraged flop.
    “Oh,” she says, morose, “hi, Howie.”
    “Hey,” I say, lowering my voice a little. It
seems appropriate. “What’s the matter?”
    Wow. That sounded … sensitive . Maybe this
is a good thing. Maybe this day of downtrodden not-so-hotitude will
just help to bring us closer together. And it’s not like she’ll
never wear makeup again. I bet the prospect of hooking up with me
will make her so happy she’ll bust out that mascara and … lipstick
and … I dunno, bronzer or whatever it is girls use.
Enthusiastically.
    “Oh, nothing,” she says, blinking rapidly. “I’m
okay.” This declaration is followed by a squeak of woe that totally
contradicts it.
    Okay. Don’t push it. Just … let her know that
you’re there for her.
    “Well, I’m here for you,” I say, resting my
elbows on the counter and meeting her eyes. Sensitively, I like to
think. “If you need to talk.”
    “Thanks,” she sniffles, and then – get this! –
she reaches over and takes my hand.
    Score.
    Her fingernails are chipping, I can’t help but
notice as I look down at our hands. Man, did her kitten die or
something? (Kristy strikes me as the type to own lots of kittens.
Just, all the time, all over the place.)
    I squeeze her hand, feeling pretty daring. But,
hey. It’s not like I’m the one who initiated this little
palm-to-palm shindig.
    “It’s just,” she begins, and I look back up to
find her staring at me really intensely. Even without makeup and
her eyelashes all pale, she does have great eyes. I wait as she
pauses, imagining ways she might finish this little proclamation.
Right away, my favorite candidate becomes, ‘Oh, I just want to
remember how to feel again. Howie, take me now! In the
supply closet!’
    But then what she says is: “Aren’t boys the worst ?”
    Disappointing.
    Really, I’m not sure how to answer that one.Then
I realize, looking at her, that I know this look. I’ve seen
Amber like this. Kristy, like Amber, must like some ass who doesn’t
give a damn about her. She’s probably feeling pretty down about
herself. Pretty pathetic and lousy. It’s always hard to see Amber
this way. It always makes me want to beat the crap out of Dennis,
if only for a couple