My Cheating Heart Read online

  “When do we get the grub?” Dad asked, ambling into the room.

  “Eric! It’s not grub,” my mother said irritably. “Do you have to call it that?”

  I beamed at him from behind my mother’s back. Mom and I are alike only in looks. In all other respects, I take after my father. And to me, it was grub, too.

  “Okay, Susan,” my father said with a huge grin. “When do we get the repast?”

  “In ten minutes,” she said, trying not to laugh.

  “Great!” he said, ambling back out.

  Normally I don’t mind my mother’s cooking lessons, but that night I really wasn’t up to it. I wished I could just grab a bowl of cold cereal and eat it up in my room, like I do when my mother works late at the bank, where she’s the executive loan officer. I wanted to mull over the band idea and talk to Ter about it on the phone.

  When my mother and I had finally finished up in the kitchen, the three of us sat down to eat at the Queen Anne dining table in our formal dining room. I prefer to eat in the breakfast nook in the kitchen, but my mother insists we sit in the dining room at dinnertime. My father and I tried not to slurp the soup.

  “You’ve outdone yourselves again,” my father said with approval. “Good grub,” he added with a wink at me.

  My mother sighed in exasperation, and I tried to suppress a giggle.

  The meal lasted forever. But finally, after helping clean up, I raced up to my room. I had Ter’s number dialed on my phone before I even fell on the bed. We talked for almost an hour about the pros and cons of forming a band with Scott and Lou. One major problem was how we were going to work it into our school and work schedules. We had to practice violin at least every other day, and we both worked three nights a week. Plus, we would have to coordinate our schedules with theirs.

  “We’re probably jumping the gun, anyway,” I said. “I mean, we haven’t even agreed to meet and hear each other play yet.”

  “Well, I say we talk to the guys tomorrow,” Ter resolved. “We’ll talk to them after orchestra and get everything straight. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  Ter approached Lou right after orchestra the next day. “Lou,” she said, timidly placing her hand on his arm.

  He turned around and smiled when he saw her, and I noticed that his eyes crinkled at the corners too, like Scott’s. “Hi. How’s it going?” he asked. But I could tell he was just being polite. Clearly, something else was on his mind.

  “Um, great,” Ter said, unsure of herself. Her eyes were darting back and forth as if she were struggling with what she was going to say next.

  “Good practice today, huh?” Lou said awkwardly.

  “Yeah, great,” Ter agreed, nodding.

  “Pretty soon we’ll sound like we’re all reading the same sheet of music,” he said.

  I laughed, and some of the tension seemed to dissipate. “You sound like Dan Nguyen,” I said.

  Lou put on a horrified expression. “Oh no, do you think it’s terminal?”

  Ter giggled despite her discomfort. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re safe. We’re the ones who sit next to him. You sit too far away to catch anything from him.”

  “Whew,” Lou said, wiping his brow.

  “Hey, where’s Scott today?” I asked. “Is he sick or something?”

  “No, he had to go meet with his guidance counselor. Something about college applications,” Lou said, smiling at me. Then he glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Look, uh, I have to run,” he said apologetically. “I have to, uh, go visit someone.”

  Ter looked at her own watch. “Yeah. We have to get going too,” she said. “Work.”

  “Where exactly do you two work?” he asked, suddenly sounding interested in what we were saying.

  “Well, I work at a flower shop in San Luis,” Ter replied. “And Krista works at the Taco Bell on Santa Rosa.”

  Lou nodded. “You girls have a hefty commute.”

  “Yeah, but at least we have jobs,” I said.

  “True,” Lou said, nodding. He smiled and looked at Ter. “I’d better go. See you.” He turned and strode out the door.

  Tongue-tied, Ter watched him go. The expression on her face resembled that of a diabetic gazing at a forbidden dessert. When he was out of sight, she said, “Well, so much for the band idea.”

  I didn’t saying anything, because I really didn’t know what I could say to make her feel better. I simply shrugged and started off toward our lockers.

  Ter sighed heavily. Twice. Then she said in a forlorn voice, “Oh, well. He was probably just like all the others. I’m probably lucky to have been spared from another heavy romance. Singlehood is so much less confining. And spinsterhood is sounding better and better all the—”

  “Come on, Ter,” I said, amazed that she could still kid around when I knew her heart was cracking. “It’s obvious he had something on his mind. And it’s Scott’s idea about the band, anyway. If he had been here, he probably would have brought it up again. So we’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, okay?”

  “I hate waiting to see what happens next,” Ter said vehemently.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The following night I had to work at Taco Bell. It was a pretty slow night, and by around eight thirty, things really began to die down. All the people who wanted dinner had come and gone, and the late-night snackers hadn’t arrived yet. I was keeping busy trying to make Ernesto think I was busy. I polished all the stainless-steel surfaces, neatened the stacks of paper cups, and even checked that all the napkin dispensers were full. I was going mad. I hate the slow times. The minutes crawl, and you’re too conscious of how long you have to wait until quitting time. And since I’d borrowed my mother’s car that night, I couldn’t even look forward to Ter dropping in early to take me home.

  Finally, when I was seriously thinking about hunting down Ernesto and actually asking for work, the door opened, and two customers came in. I quickly made my way over to the front counter to take their orders, and suddenly realized that the two guys approaching were Scott and Lou!

  “Hi,” Scott said, grinning widely. He leaned his elbow against the counter. “Someone happened to mention that you work here, and we just happened to be driving by and—”

  “Oh, yeah?” I said, amused. Scott laughed and over his shoulder, I saw Lou trying to hide a smile. Right. They just happened to be twenty some miles out of their way, up in San Luis. It was possible, I supposed. But I doubted it.

  “So when do you get off work?” Scott asked.

  “Ten.”

  “Ten, huh?” He looked at his watch. “An hour and a half away.”

  “A long hour and a half,” I said, sighing.

  The door swung open again, and the first batch of late-night snackers came in, a gang of about seven guys. I recognized Carlos in the group. Oh great, I thought, now I can get back at him by sprinkling enormous quantities of extra hot pepper on his food. I can get pretty hostile with guys who treat Ter shabbily. But Suzanne, the other attendant on duty, had already spotted him and rushed up to take his order, oozing interest.

  I turned back to Scott, trying not to show my disgust. “Did you want anything?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “But you don’t get off for an hour and a half.”

  I felt a blush beginning to creep up into my face, and I laughed lightly.

  “Hey, how about if you and Teresa come out with Lou and me tomorrow night?” he asked. “Do you have to work?” He raised his eyebrows in a hopeful expression.

  “Umm, I’ll have to check with Ter,” I answered.

  “Great. What’s your phone number?” he asked, biting his lower lip. “I’ll call in the morning and find out what you two decided.”

  I gave it to him, then caught sight of Ernesto glaring at me from his office door. The man is paranoid about his employees loafing. Hastily I snagged a burrito from behind me and shoved it at Scott. “Here’s your order,” I said brightly. Ernest
o came over and hovered within two feet of me like a demented hummingbird, and I shifted on my feet nervously. To my relief Scott had the presence of mind to take the burrito and pay for it. Then, he gave me a wink and sauntered out of the restaurant. Lou followed right behind him.

  True to his word, Scott called the next morning. I had spoken to Ter as soon as I got home the night before, and of course she’d agreed to go out with the guys. The invitation had certainly come as I surprise to her, though. After how Lou had acted at orchestra, Ter wasn’t feeling particularly hopeful about dating him.

  After I had told Scott that it was okay with Ter, I was expecting him to get off the phone right away. But instead he started chatting away about everything: our jobs, music, school, how we thought we’d do on the SATs . . .

  “My parents are super serious about me scoring in the top percentiles,” he lamented. “They want me to go to a good college. I don’t know why they’re so obsessed. I mean, they already have one child at a good school.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said, staring up at my ceiling. I was lying on my back, using the flat white painted surface as a sort of movie screen. Scott’s face, conjured up from my memory, was playing on it. As he spoke, I tried to imagine what his expression was like.

  “Yeah. My older sister Karen’s at Vassar in New York State,” he said. “And all I want to do is be a musician.” His words made me paint a yearning expression on his face. “What do I need math and science for?”

  I understood how he felt, even though I didn’t share his feelings. “But think of it this way,” I suggested. “When you start earning all your millions, you’ll need math to know if your accountant is honest.”

  Scott groaned. “You sound just like Lou,” he said. “And like I told him, I’d hire Karen. She’s the big math star in the family. And she’d never gyp her baby brother.” Now I imagined a smile playing across his face.

  “Okay, I’m convinced,” I said. “Run down to your guidance counselor on Monday and tell him you’re cutting some of your classes out. Say you’re a conscientious objector, refusing to take any course that won’t further your musical career.”

  Scott laughed heartily, conveying his genuine appreciation for the joke. “That would eliminate everything except orchestra,” he said. The tone of his voice made me picture a grin on his face. “But I still say I’d rather do rock than Bach.”

  I laughed. “Just remember, lots of big stars had classical training, like Elton John and—”

  “Wow, now you really do sound like Lou,” Scott said, half in disgust and half in disbelief.

  “He tells you that too?” I asked, surprised for some reason.

  “Yeah, he does all the time,” he said.

  We finally hung up about an hour after he called, with Scott saying he and Lou would pick us up at five.

  By four fifty-three that afternoon, Ter’s and my nerves were shot. She had come over to my house at four to wait, and we’d killed time sitting in the living room trying to convince each other that we were not candidates for straight jackets; waiting for two gorgeous guys to pick us up on a double date was something we experienced so often it verged on boredom.

  We had both chosen our outfits carefully. Ter was wearing a pair of black leggings and a brightly printed trapeze top. I was wearing white stirrup pants and a top Ter had given me. She’s forever buying stuff, then hating the way she looks in them. So she always ends up giving clothes to me, and I’ll say, “But you look adorable in this.” Her rebuttal is always the same: “Give me a break. I look like a mushroom cloud in that.” “But mushrooms don’t come in Forenza multicolored stripes,” I’ll argue. Then she’ll bat at the air, saying, “I’m talking about the general shape.” I usually give up and take the clothes. Once Ter’s mind is made up, dynamite can’t move her. So anyway, I had on one of her rejects. A Forenza crop top in beautiful earth tones, accented with turquoise, which Ter claims makes my eyes look bluer.

  Ter was sitting on the sofa, pleating and repleating the edges of her trapeze top. As expected, her nerves went before mine. “Oh, I can’t take it anymore,” she said, bounding to her feet to peer through the gauzy drapes at the front window. She was careful to keep out of sight in case the guys arrived and caught her in the act. “Krista, I really have this feeling down here—” She pointed to the region of her stomach. “—that this is it!”

  “That’s your stomach, Ter,” I said drily. “You have indigestion.”

  “Oh, you know what I mean!” She narrowed her dark brown eyes at me, but she was giggling.

  I laughed, watching her try to get as close to the drapes as possible without actually touching them. “So why do you think this is it?”

  She turned back, her eyes sparkling like two pieces of polished glass. “Because Lou is so different, so nice! And he’s a drummer, just like I wanted,” she said dreamily. “Krista, you couldn’t take a computer program and have it design a more perfect guy.” She frowned suddenly. “Which is why I can’t understand why he’d be interested in me, but that’s beside the point.” She waved her hand at the irritating thought.

  “You want a refresher course in how wonderful you are?” I asked, half teasing. “I’ll tell you. Because you’re adorable and fun loving. You’re bubbly. . . .” I paused, searching for the right words.

  Ter grinned unabashedly. “More, more,” she said, bursting into laughter. “My head’s not the right size yet.”

  “Ter, I’m serious. Why would anyone not like you?” I said.

  She opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of what she’d been about to say. “Scott really seems to like you, too,” she said instead. She tipped her head to one side. “Aren’t you just a little bit thrilled?”

  “Well, I’ll wait and see,” I said, taking the cautious approach. “I don’t even really know him yet. And remember, you don’t really know Lou either.”

  Ter shook her head and shrugged. “But what more could there be to know?” she said, looking at me.

  Oh, Ter, I thought. You’re so impulsive. And too trusting. But then again, maybe I had gone through so many of Ter’s romantic disasters that I could no longer recognize a great guy for her when I saw one. But what if this guy, this “perfect” guy, hurt her? What if he cheated on her or dumped her for someone else? It would break her heart worse than ever before. I had to look out for Ter.

  The doorbell suddenly rang, startling us both. “They’re here!” Ter all but screamed. She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, do you think they heard that?”

  “I doubt it,” I said reassuringly. “My father built this house like a fortress.” I headed for the door, and Ter raced behind me and peeked out the side window.

  “It is them,” she affirmed. Then, turning to me with a smug look on her face, she said, “See? They are perfect. They came to the door instead of honking. Your parents will appreciate that.”

  I opened the door, unable to stop a giddy smile from forming on my face. Scott and Lou looked a little uneasy at first, but they returned my smile when I pulled the door open wider.

  “Come on in,” I said. They hesitated a little, and I explained in a voice of someone confessing a horrible sin, “My parents insist on meeting you.”

  “Ah,” Scott said, nodding his head knowingly. He stepped into the house with Lou right on his heels.

  My parents came into the room before I even had a chance to call them, no doubt having heard the commotion, and I made the introductions as swiftly as possible. I hate it when my parents subject any boy crazy enough to want to date me to the third degree. “It is not the third degree,” they insist, but it is. This time, however, my parents couldn’t figure out which of the two guys was my date, so they let us go without much of an interview. And soon the four of us were backing out of the house and making our escape.

  “What time will you be home?” my parents chorused as we were closing the front door.

  “Oh, after dark,” I said, leaving a lot of leeway.

  We
pounded down the drive and leaped into Scott’s Jeep. Laughing and wiping our brows in mock relief, we took off.

  “So, where do you guys want to go?” Scott asked, rounding the corner onto Grande Avenue.

  “Well, I’m starved,” Lou announced.

  “So tell me something I don’t know,” Scott teased, grinning at his friend in the rearview mirror. “Amigo, it’s only five o’clock. It’s too early for food.”

  “That’s what I get for hanging around with a guy whose parents never eat,” Lou joked.

  Scott smiled and glanced over at me. “My mom hates to cook,” he explained. “She says she’d rather ‘read than feed.’ She spends a lot of time at her bookstore, and when she’s not there, she’s with my dad at the surf shop.”

  I thought of my own mother and her cooking fetish. “So what do you do for meals?” I asked.

  Scott nodded in the direction of the backseat. “Lou feeds me.”

  “Oh,” I said. I looked into the back and noticed that Lou had his arm stretched out along the top of the seat behind Ter. Ter must be in heaven, I thought to myself, feeling thrilled for her.

  As we drove on, we continued to discuss what we were going to do for the evening. But Lou couldn’t seem to think of anything but food.

  “Stop whining,” Scott said to him. “We have to do something interesting first. That way, when we actually get to the eating establishment of our choice, you’ll enjoy the feeding process that much more.”

  “Yeah, right,” Lou said dubiously. Then he brightened. “Hey, we could go to the movies,” he suggested. “That way I can stave off impending starvation with junk food.”