I love my mother, but hate that I inherited her skin. Oily everywhere, especially when I was deep in thought. Not sure how and why, but the shine just turned up whenever I did math homework, or during an exam. That was so annoying, to be mentally exhausted and look like it too.
So my facial routine since I turned twelve involved the following: gentle morning anti-blemish cleanser, toner so minty it stung, antibacterial acne cream medication, tea tree oil concealer, hypoallergenic face powder, oil absorbent facial wipes, stronger anti-blemish evening cleanser, stronger antibacterial acne night cream.
On the day that I was to meet Ian Carag, I noticed that I didn't need them that morning. And that I had, in fact, not been using the products for a few days (too sleepy one night, and running late another morning) and the world hadn't ended. I knew that eventually I wouldn't need them anymore, but I didn't think it would actually happen while I was still in schoolâwhen it mattered the most.
I needed to brag to someone about this, so I texted Sol: No more breakouts! Congratulate me, puberty has ended!
Sol, who had flawless skin since she was a baby (I saw the pictures), texted back: You are a swan princess!
* * *
Ian Carag was an SK just like me. Exceptional grades, had his pick of the top schools in the country and several others within a three-hour plane ride. But he chose Ford River, not sure why. Maybe he liked being a big fish in a small pond.
I was able to introduce myself to him by visiting his club's event that week. The Wine Appreciation Society had a tasting ("Wines from Chile"), but what we actually talked about while there was a TV show that had been cancelled for years.
"I've only really seen one episode of The X-Files," I admitted, wondering if that would kill my chances of getting anything out of him. "I was home sick and couldn't find the TV remote. Couldn't change the channel. But it was about a serial killer who targeted psychics."
"Oh, 'Clyde Bruckman,'" Ian nodded, excited. "From season three, one of the good ones. Did you like it?"
"I remember it being funnier than I thought it would be."
"The X-Files is hilarious."
I was a bit out of my element in this conversation so far. First of all, I knew nothing about wine, and must have nodded a hundred times as my more knowledgeable schoolmates discussed the finer points of stuff that tasted very nearly the same to me. Some shared stories of visiting Chile, not that I could participate in that either. And Ian wanted to talk about a show I never really watched.
"I guess I just never gave it a chance before," I said.
"It's not for everybody," Ian said. "You know Kathy Martin? She's the only one who's also a fan here, at least that I know of."
Now this is more like it. "Yes, I know Kathy. How do you know her?"
Ian knew her through a friend of a friend, and even in his mind he would put that label, that artificial distance between them.
"She and I... I mean, she's probably the only other person here who watches it. Usually if I meet a fan it's someone way older. But Kathy's cool, you know, even if we don't like it the exact same way."
"How can someone like it a different way? It's a show about aliens, right?"
He released a little laugh that carried much fondness. "She thinks it's a romance."
As soon as he said her name, I felt distinctly how he thought of her, and it was... how could I explain it...
Quin, by the way, demanded that I be more specific about this. A recap of a previous conversation:
Me: Sad?
Quin: Not sad. It's never just 'sad.'
Me: That's what I'm getting.
Quin: You can't help if you don't see the nuances.
Me: I need a thesaurus.
Ian's feelings for Kathy were warm, and affectionate, but it was like he was willing himself not to nurture them. I was wrong, it wasn't distance.
And then, I saw this memory:
...It was the first day of foreign language class, Intermediate Mandarin. For fifty seconds they were partners in a quick exercise in class (a quick hi and how are you to the person behind you), and even though she smiled and instantly forgot him as soon as she turned to the third row to talk to the girl behind her, he didn't.
He joked about it, once they were properly introduced by his friend Anna. Kathy lied about not remembering him (he totally could tell) but he was fine with it. At least, he became fine with it as soon as she pointed to his shirt, which had the words "Apology is Policy" printed on it.
"X-Files," she said.
He lent her a DVD set and they talked about the show the four times that they happened to be hanging out in the same place together. The first time, she had asked him his favorite episode. ("The Host" for him, "Memento Mori" for her.) The second time, they talked about if the Mulder-less seasons counted, or could be scrapped from the series and not affect how they felt about it. The third time, they disagreed over the show's decision to move its production from Vancouver to LA. The fourth time, she returned his DVDs and lent him Slumdog Millionaire.
Unlike ninety-eight percent of the students at Ford River, Ian didn't think about falling in love there. It was a small school, he knew that, and chances of finding a girl he could stand were very slim. He had already psyched himself into not making this his problem. He would not ask a girl out in college. He would wait until he graduated, became successful and rich, and by then this girlfriend-less time would be just one of his humorous anecdotes. He would spin it as a personal choice, because he didn't want to be distracted from his goals. (Becoming rich and successful was that difficult.)
But he was starting to think that Kathy could be a worthy distraction. Maybe. She did seem to get it. She looked very attractive, and not in the loud and obnoxious way that the popular girls were. And despite being a rich girl she didn't have that air around the SKs that the others did...
Tentative. That's what Ian was.
I sipped my wine like I was deep in thought. (Which I kind of was.) I wasn't really a wine drinker or an X-Files fan, so I wasn't sure what Ian and I would talk about once he stopped talking about Kathy. And with his two sentences about how he knew her, I already got what I came for.
This is probably what dating is like! It's hard. And regular people didn't have the power to see into the other's heart to keep them entertained.
The wine event was held in the only room in the Student Center building that had a window looking out toward the field. I prepared to say something about the time and the setting sun, but then I heard a familiar whispering behind me.
Quin had just walked into the room. The whispering was the reaction regular students had when campus royalty showed up, and the Wine Appreciation Society people weren't any different.
He scanned the room, found me, and instantly saved me from having to think about more conversation topics. Quin was my deus ex machina.
His expression changed the tiniest bit, and I wondered if he heard my last thought. Arg.
"Ready to go?" he asked, as if I totally knew he was going to show up and provide a perfect cue to exit.
"Sorry, yeah, I really do have to go, Ian."
"Maybe you shouldn't tell Kathy that I was talking about her," Ian said, and thought, at the same time.
I gave his wrist a reassuring squeeze. "I can keep secrets."
Things that were surprisingly easy now that I was the (interim) goddess of love: introductions, white lies, and pretending that walking out of the room with the most popular guy in school was normal.
* * *
"I met Vida, by the way."
"I'm done with practice. Do you want a ride home?"
"I have dinner with Sol. She's giving me a ride home." We stopped at the curved driveway, the common pickup and drop-off point for cars. "Vida gave me a book to read."
He made a sound that was similar to laughing, but without the joy. "She's hung up on things that happened a long time ago."
"So the two of you fought."
"It's a children's book."
I wish you would say stuff I actually want to hear. I tried to fish a little more. "I just didn't think you were the violent type."
Quin was so ready to move on though. "It's a children's book. You shouldn't believe everything about it."
"So she is one of you?"
"She's here for her own reasons, but you shouldn't be concerned about them. How was your talk with the guy?"
"Ian's not her secret admirer either."
"You know that for sure?"
"Oh he definitely likes her, but he's stopping short of actually doing anything. It's a bit sad."
Sad for Ian, who was resigned to the next few years of blah just so he wouldn't get hurt. But not sad for Kathy, who was turning out to be quite the charmer. She thought she was a wallflower? With the right push she had at least two guys ready to fall for herâand a third one obviously already there.
Envious. That was what I was.