Not This Time

Nina: January 30, 1986

     I laid my head against his shoulder without thinking. It was the natural thing to do; it felt right. We walked down the path like that, talking about this and that and some other things. It wasn't until he shifted his arm uncomfortably over my shoulders that I realized I'd fallen into cuddling.
     I jerked away more forcefully than I'd intended and stepped out of his arms. I could feel my face burning. I hadn't meant to get so comfortable. He was off limits, against the rules. I couldn't. I shook my head. I couldn't look at him either, I was so embarrassed.
     "Are you okay?" he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice. All I could do was nod. I felt like a bobble head as I turned away from him to head down the path toward the front of the park and my car.
     After a few minutes of nothingness between us, Jon caught up with me. "So what about you?" he prompted. I looked up from my feet, but still not at him. It wasn't that my blush hadn't toned down or anything. I just knew that if I looked his way, he'd probably be able to talk any information he wanted out of me.
     "What about me?" I replied.
     He nudged me playfully. "I told you about my past! It's your turn to tell me about yours!" I did look over at him that time. He was smirking. I raised an eyebrow and he pouted just a little. I smiled, but rolled my eyes. Why had I fallen for that?
     I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "What is there to tell? I don't have any cute stories like you." He shrugged.
     "Should I at least be worried that your boyfriend is going to get jealous?" he asked. I stopped in my tracks and gave him a confused look. "That you're here with me on your birthday instead of with him, I mean," he clarified.
     My confused expression turned into an are-you-serious face. "In all the time we've spent together, where on Earth did get the idea that I have a boyfriend?" I snickered, shaking my head.
     "Well, I just assumed.." he muttered with a shrug and a small smile. I got the feeling that it had been his coy way of finding out if I was single. Part of me really liked that he was curious, but then I reminded myself that he was against the rules.
     "You shouldn't assume," I chuckled, shaking my head again. I laughed as I continued walking,
     "Man, I haven't had a boyfriend since I was.." I trailed off to think about it. Jon snickered at the face I made as I did so. "Uuh, fifteen," I finished.
     "What?" Jon laughed disbelievingly, "No way! With a face like that?"
     I could feel my face going red again. He knew all the right words, didn't he? I shook my head, ignoring the blush. "I've never had time," I told him, "I left home when I was fifteen and I've been working since."
     I could feel Jon's eyes on me. When I looked up his face was painted with curiosity, but he only smiled awkwardly. I mirrored him and then snickered, looking away again. He was being more polite than I'd ever been, trying not to press the subject, no matter how much he wanted to know.
     "Alright, I guess we're good enough friends," I sighed, dramatically. He grinned, but didn't say anything. "The only boyfriend I've ever had was when I was fifteen, and we weren't even very into each other. I was only dating him to piss off my mother, and he was only dating me so that he'd have an excuse to go out on the weekends." I shrugged, "Nothing fancy."
     "Your mom didn't like you dating?" Jon asked.
     I laughed harder than I probably should have. It wasn't a joke, but it was such an understatement that it came across as one. Jon stared at me in surprise, unsure whether he should smile at my reaction.
     "My mother kept me inside the house for my entire childhood because the one time she'd taken me to the park when I was four, I'd approached a little boy to see if he'd play some imaginary game with me," I explained, still laughing a little, "I wouldn't be allowed to look at men, if my mother had any say in the matter." My amusement started dying as I continued shaking my head. It really wasn't funny; I had no idea why I was laughing.
     Jon frowned. "She wouldn't like me, huh?"
     "Maribelle would hate you," I answered without hesitation, "The long hair, the rock music." I shrugged apologetically, "She's crazy. She would see us walking together, not touching, not necessarily even looking at each other, and assume we're sleeping together."
     "Why?" Jon scoffed. I looked up at his grimace and frowned too.
     "I'm not really sure, on that one," I replied, tilting my head, "I'm pretty sure it has more to do with her than with me. She hates me anyway, so it's probably some crazy reason that doesn't make sense."
     "Why does she hate you?"
     I rolled my eyes and shook my head as I answered, "She blames me for ruining her relationship with her father."
     "What did you do?" he asked innocently.
     "I didn't do anything!" I scoffed, "I wasn't even born yet!" Jon gaped at me. He gave me this look and I knew what he was going to ask next. He didn't even have to ask it. His curiosity was so strong, I would almost taste it. I scrunched up my nose. "It's a long story," I said.
     "I'm not going anywhere," he retorted with a small chuckle and a shrug.
     I ran a hand through my hair and shrugged too. "Well, my Granma died when my mother, Maribelle, was born, so she never knew her. She and my aunt were raised by my Granpa, who was a reverend." I paused and jumped up on a nearby rock. Jon looked up to meet my gaze as I went on, "He was a mean man too, like, fire and brimstone. I can't say I was sad when he finally died."
     Jon raised an eyebrow and held a hand up to help me down. I took it and hopped off the rock. He waited patiently for me to continue. He must have noticed that this wasn't my favorite subject. I'd pushed him about Dotty, though, so it wouldn't be fair for me to avoid this one.
     "My aunt was the wild one, and Granpa more or less disowned her for that. Maribelle only ever knew Granpa as a parent, so she desperately wanted his approval and affection," I explained, watching the path as we wandered along, and swinging our hands between us, "So, unlike her sister, Maribelle always did everything her father told her, except about having a boyfriend.
     "Maribelle was seeing my dad, Gordon, behind Granpa's back. They weren't doing anything, of course, but she was still breaking Granpa's rules," I told him, shaking my head, "Well, after a while, Maribelle figured if her sister was sleeping around and never getting pregnant, then one time with her one boyfriend wasn't going to do any harm."
     I paused and looked up at Jon. He was watching the ground, too, until he realized I'd stopped, then he looked at me. I smiled sarcastically.
     "Guess who showed up nine months later," I said.
     "Of course," he snickered humorlessly, looking away again as he nodded.
     "Yup," I agreed, "When he found out that Maribelle was pregnant, Granpa was furious. There was a shotgun wedding, but Granpa never treated Maribelle like his little angel ever again. Long story short, Maribelle blames me for that and she hates me because of it."
     Jon frowned and shook his head. "You're right, that's crazy." He paused and shook his head disbelievingly. "She kept you inside your whole life?"
     "I got to play outside in the backyard when my dad would get home," I recalled with a shrug, "And when I was twelve, my dad convinced her to let me go to public school since she'd already homeschooled me to death."
     Jon chuckled at that. I smiled a little, but it was hard to with these memories coming back up. We were almost to my car anyway. I could see the parking lot through the trees.
     "Other than that, I didn't really ever go out."
     "Well what happened to the boy?" Jon asked. There it was again, that feeling that he was asking for his own benefit. What could it even be this time? I smirked a little at the thought and shook my head as his question came back into my mind.
     "She scared him off," I chuckled a little. It didn't help lighten the tone of the topic like I'd hoped it would. "I made the mistake of bringing him home for Thanksgiving when I was fifteen. Maribelle had a conniption fit and threw a porcelain dinner plate at my head. He said she was nuts."
     "She threw a plate at your head for bringing a boy home?" he gaped.
     "Yup. That was the last straw. That was the night I ran away." I didn't catch myself before I said it like I should have. Jon stopped short, his hand falling out of mine as I continued forward. I looked back at him, self-consciously stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets.
     "You really did run away?" he asked very quietly. I could tell he was thinking about that rumor that had overrun Sayreville when I'd arrived in town a few years ago.
     I turned all the way around to face him and frowned. "Yeah, I ran away from home, but I was never a prostitute," I spat defensively, "Whatever you heard, it wasn't true. I would never do that."
     Jon didn't hesitate to close the space between us. I turned once more and we resumed course. He didn't try for my hand again, for which I was grateful. I shouldn't have been holding hands with him anyway.
     "I didn't mean it like that," he muttered after a minute, "I never thought that about you." His words comforted me, as if the idea that he never saw me as a slut mattered. I mean, did it? It shouldn't have, but it did just a little. I smiled and shook my head as if that would shake the whole conversation away. I hadn't thought about that rumor in a while. It wasn't worth thinking about.
     It was silent between us again as he unlocked the car and helped me pull the top down. I climbed into the passenger side and he sank into the driver side, pulling his car door shut. He put the keys in the ignition and made like he would start the car, but he didn't.
     "I shouldn't have asked about it," he sighed, "I'm sorry."
     I raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you sorry for?" I snickered, "Don't be sorry, it's cool." He started to say something else, but I wouldn't let him. "Hey. I'm not sorry. It's only weird if you make it weird." He looked up at me with a straight face and I stuck my tongue out at him. The corner of his mouth tugged upward a little. I laughed, "Just start the car, Rockstar."
     About a half hour later, and still on the road, Jon and I were back to laughing and joking like we'd never spoken about such an intense topic. He was laughing at how my hair kept getting caught in my sunglasses. Just as I was wondering how he didn't have the same problem, I heard it. Those guitars.
     "Yeeeeaah!" I cheered as I turned up the radio. Jon instantly recognized it too, and groaned in amused protest. I sang along with the radio, "Jessie is a friend! Yeah I know he's been a good friend of mine!" Jon couldn't stop me now that he was too busy driving. That didn't stop him from looking over at me every few seconds with a grin. "But lately something's changed, it ain't hard to define! Jessie's got himself a girl, and I wanna make her mine!"
     "Cause she's watching him with those eyes," Rick sang without me as I grinned at Jon.
     "And she's loving him with that body, I just know it," I sang to Jon intently. Jon laughed at me and shook his head. I gave him a look. He knew the one. The sing-with-me look. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, but we both belted out the chorus.
     "You know I wish that I had Jessie's girl!" we sang. Jon grinned at my awkwardly crammed dance moves as we went on, "I wish that I had Jessie's girl!" I smiled back. For the first time, I felt like life was perfect. I was truly happy cruising to some random song with my best friend. We were just jammin'. "Where can I find a woman like that?"