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KJ’s interest in Mac had been multifaceted.
Before Hell Morning, it bordered on inconsequential; a spiteful acquaintanceship that neither girl wanted to strengthen because of pre-existent partiality. Mac did not want to share the same air, which she immodestly voiced; and KJ did not have the patience to be insulted for characteristics she could not control.
Safe to say, encounters did not last long.
They would run into each other in public, or along the roads, and it was trivial. Neither gave a passing glance. It was like that most of the time, but there would be moments where KJ would see Mac in the park, sitting on the swing in the solitude of daybreak, as she lit up Camel after Camel; or she would witness Mac zooming down the street on her BMX to see how fast she could possibly go; and those arbitrary lapses of time would momentarily alter KJ’s perception.
Rare glimpses into the harmonious side of Mac’s youth, which no one ever got to behold, left KJ to wonder; wonder if there was more to Mac than she gave her credit for.
Hell Morning proved her right.
When her mother woke her up, she was dazed by a surreal sense of fulfillment. She racked her brain, trying to recall her faded dream, as she banded her stock with pensive slothfulness. The haze lingered when she waltzed down Hemlock, which paralyzed her capability of adequate defense. Lucas Kurzenberger and his band of airheads took advantage.
KJ was backed against a house, trapped in the solidity of the cul-de-sac, when the Three Musketeers showed up on their noble steeds; a unified front. Mac smart-mouthed Kurzenberger until he and his loser friends scattered off. KJ found that the “damsel-in-distress” circumstance hurt her pride, but her rescue worked out in the best way. KJ met Erin, and, in a way, met the rest of the girls, too. This, of course, included Mac. Her fickle interest turned eternal.
That was four years ago, though. A lot had changed since then.
Like, the fact Mac and KJ are dating. They have been for years.
Their relationship accumulated in a series of slow-going events.
The girls routinely hung out after Hell Morning. The bond seemed to have materialized out of nothing, but no one once complained. They all attended KJ’s bat mitzvah. They all chipped in and bought Mac her own Walkman for her thirteenth birthday. They loitered around the arcade for hours every other Saturday, just to watch Tiffany in her element; kicking ass and taking names as she topped all the high-scores. As for Erin, boy, did she like the comic-book store.
Their worlds collided and blended into a strong, unconditional friendship. It stayed that way, even when Mac got mysteriously eccentric towards them. It was always KJ that would set her off, despite the fact it was KJ she always wanted to be around. The hot-and-cold, hot-and-cold bullshit nearly drove KJ off her rocker until Mac kissed her one day. Then, it all made sense.
Spring of freshman year. It was overcast and raining; still and humid. Mac took off her flannel as they exited the high school; her last lucid action until the kiss. They breezed through the crowd, huddled next to each other, while KJ held an umbrella over them. The gentle downpour drowned out everyone else.
KJ anticipated backlash from Mac because she thought to bring an umbrella, but Mac was quiet the entire time; the occasional “uh-huh” or “totally” was the only way KJ knew she was even coherent.
They had stopped outside KJ’s front door, stuck in an ambiguous tension. The porch cover offered protection from the elements, so KJ folded the umbrella while Mac stared at her with such a formidabile seriousness, that KJ could only stare back. Her parents were gone and the street was vacant. The melodic rumble of rain made the atmosphere so palpable, that it was hard for either one of them to breathe. At least, that’s what they blamed it on.
It was not until Mac ended their lingering state by making herself taller, as she slowly leaned in, that KJ understood; understood why Mac had been off for months and that she had wanted it to happen, too.
KJ placed her hands on Mac’s hips as their lips brushed in a jittery, tender connection that made KJ’s legs feel like liquid. The taste and smell of cigarettes and Ultra Brite toothpaste made her head spin. (She found out later that Mac had skipped last period to brush her teeth, spending all 50 minutes preparing herself for it.)
It was worse for Mac, because she pulled away first; the strangest mixture of confound stoicism and an embarrassed smile outing her poorly-concealed emotion. KJ returned the smile as a haze, identical to the one she felt on Hell Morning, fogged her mind.
That was the start of something that has never ended. Tiffany and Erin took the news well, (not that they were surprised) in spite of the inevitable reality that they would spend a lot more time together without them; but even with their relationship, the years passed painlessly. Mac and KJ changed for the better.
KJ has gotten stronger in every sense of the word; her athleticism, her confidence, and her passions, that she used to belittle herself for, became a source of self-respect. Field hockey is a hobby, but film is the new-found love of her life. Apart from Mac, of course.
Who, speaking of, has gotten sharper in every sense of the word; her wit, her style, the angularity of her sepia-turned hair. The charming, yet off-putting, ineptitude of amiableness she conveyed had waned with maturity. Mac is still “snark-your-stupid-face-into-an-early-grave” Mac, but she grew up to have a reasonable head on her shoulders.
They are happy. Stuck in Stony Stream and working dead-end jobs they hate, sure, but it does not matter. They have each other.
Even though Mac really hates her job.
-
The steering wheel of KJ’s 1990 Buick groans as she turns into the drive-thru, audibly protesting against the long line so she does not have to. She still does.
“Jee-zus,” she exacerbates, drawing out the syllables as she beholds nine cars in front of her. An irritated hand slides from the top of the wheel to the bottom. The mid-level sun always heats the plastic grip-mold when she waits.
Mac really needs to switch to nights on the weekends, because fighting customers on Saturday afternoons is absolute hell. It is easily avoidable, yeah, but then KJ couldn’t do the thing. Their thing. With her head propped against her hand, knuckles at the temple, she mutters along to the faint Melissa Etheridge song on the radio as the line slowly moves. She smirks and rolls down her window when she levels with the undersized, crooked speaker.
A pause. A crackle. “-hanks for choosin’ Micky-D’s. What’re you havin?” Mac’s bland, ‘professional’ tone is a humorous experience, each and every time.
KJ bites her lip. ”One Big Mac, please.” The perk in her tone expresses how pleased she is with herself.
”Oh, ha-ha.” The mood instantly changes. “That never gets old.”
”Whatever.” She chuckles and switches her radio off. “Don’t sell me that. You love it.”
”No, I love you. Major difference. Pull around and get your ass inside, nerd. I’m off in ten. Must you always tease my impending freedom by showing up so early?”
”Duh.” She shrugs at no one. Her eyes dart to the rear-view mirror when someone behind her honks. KJ scoffs and pokes her head out the window. “Lay off, asshole!”
A broken-up laugh responds. “Kaje, c’mon. You don’t mess with these people’s preservatives. That’s a solid life lesson for you.”
”Fine,” she sighs, shifting into drive. “Snag me some nuggets, beau.” Her brakes squeak as she pushes on the brake pad.
“Anything for you, babe.”
KJ grins. “That’s what I like to hear!” A final comment as she parts from the line earns her another honk. KJ sticks her arm out the window, her middle finger speaking for her as she drives around the corner.
-
There are four McDonalds in Stony Stream, yet Mac manages to pick the worst possible one to work at. It is run-down, frequented by jerks, and always has screaming children. Including now. KJ fiddles with a ketchup bottle, trying to hold onto her sanity as she waits in a booth. It faces the counter, so she can see when Mac would emerge. Every grievance vanishes when she finally sees her girlfriend.
Mac pushes the door open with her foot, one dangling arm holding a small box and the other twisted behind her back; her thumb jammed against her lumbar. A backpack suspends from her shoulder by one strap. She walks around the counter and smiles when she sees KJ.
KJ can never get over the hilarity of seeing Mac in the uniform. She wears her logoed sun-hat backwards, forcing strands of hair to frame her face and shoot out the top. The red and white candy-striped shirt is loosely tucked into baggy, black jeans. Mac is not allowed to wear her boots, but she does it anyway.
Mac snaps her fingers. “Don’t diss.” KJ’s face gives away her amusement. “This is peak fashion. Get with the time.”
She settles against the wall adjacent to the booth, opposite of KJ, with one leg drawn as the other rests on the bench seat. She tosses her backpack next to KJ and lets the six-piece plunk on the table.
KJ beams at her presence and reaches over, snatching the hat off her head and putting it on backwards like Mac always wears it. Her puffy hair fights against the band. Mac runs a hand through her own disheveled hair and looks at KJ like she is made of gold when she shoves a nugget in her mouth.
”Shoot for the stars. If you want to be a candy cane, go for it. I’ll support you,” she mutters, blatantly more concerned with her food. A dollop of ketchup platters onto the side of the container. KJ dips a nugget and scowls at the taste. “God, I hate warm ketchup.”
Mac shakes her head as she sighs. Her lips twitch as she holds back a laugh. “You think you’re so clever, huh?”
“I don’t think I am. I know.” She winks and finishes off the box as fast as she had received it.
Mac tsks and steals her hat back. “Let’s make like the wind, bottomless-pit.” She motions to get up, but a spark of pain shoots through her back. She stays put, the upholstery creaking with her undecided movement.
“You jocks are gonna run this place into the ground, I swear. Like, last week, some football loser ordered eight cheeseburgers. Eight, Kaje. Eight!” She shoves eight fingers into KJ’s face.
“Christ, I get it.” KJ laughs and grabs her hands, forcing their joined hands onto the table. Mac rubs her thumbs over KJ’s. “Would you even love me if I ate like a bird, though?”
Mac hums and shifts her eyes up, emphasizing her thought. “Probably not.” Her eyes flash with mischief and she leans over to kiss KJ’s forehead, her back pain stopping the advance.
“Shit,” she hisses, falling back and instinctively clutching her back.
KJ slightly frowns. “Still?”
Mac has been working like a dog since Dylan left. When she is not at school, she is at work, trying to keep her family afloat. Her dad bounces around from job to job and Alice prefers to spend money rather than earn it, so Mac is the only stable source of income. To make matters worse, Dylan preceded Mac in the line of succession for the second car. Since she is car-less, KJ is her ride.
Not that KJ minds. She loves doing whatever she can for Mac. It is rough, sometimes, because of her own job at Blockbuster, but they scrape by.
Mac nods, her face twisted in discomfort. “These knots are killer. I got ‘em in my shoulders, too.”
That has been a problem for weeks. Mac is too stubborn to slow down, and she is running herself ragged. The faint, dark circles under her eyes are proof enough, but now it hurts to move? KJ makes the hasty decision to intervene.
”You should let me take you out tonight.” She rests her elbows on the edge and softens at the look of pure panic Mac meets her with.
”Kaje…you know I love you, and would sell my left tit if it meant I could never leave your side, but-“ She slowly sits straight and plants her feet on the ground. “-I just spent eleven hours in a grease-trap, and I got homework literally up the wazoo, and-“ Her argument transforms into a stressed ramble that stops making sense.
“Mac.” KJ soothes. Mac whines in exasperation and rubs her eyes. “I know. I know you have a lot on your plate, but you need to relax, too. You can’t afford not to. I love you too much to just sit back and watch you burn yourself out.” She puts her hand out and smiles when Mac furtively interlaces their fingers. “I can take you home, you can shower and change, and we don’t have to do anything crazy. What do you say?”
Mac searches KJ’s face, whose austere quality makes it clear that it is not much of a suggestion. She knows better than to test it, and she knows KJ is right.
”Only if you carry my bag for me. It weighs a million pounds and I’m frail.”
KJ grins ear-to-ear as she slides out of the booth, slinging Mac’s relatively light backpack over her shoulder. Mac forces herself out in disjointed movements, rapidly cursing as she tries to straighten her inflamed spine. Sympathy hits KJ hard.
”What, you need me to carry you, too?” She teases, trying to lighten the mood.
Mac grimaces as they approach the door. “No.” Her face falls. “Wait, that’d be hot, actually. You’re jacked.”
KJ blushes and they leave the building laughing.
-
As the distant hum of the water heater reverberates in Mac’s room, KJ sits on her bed, flipping through the new book she finds on Mac's make-shift desk. Spring Fire. They went to the library two days ago, and the bookmark is already placed in the middle of the pages.
And she blames falling behind on work, she thinks.
KJ is in the middle of blankly reading some part about a car accident when Mac barges into the room. A comically huge towel covers her pale body. She pauses and brings the towel to her head, shaking her damp hair in it.
“Yeesh, man. That book’s dark. I have to finish it since I started it, but goddamn.” Mac opens her bi-fold closet and scrounges around, ripping a grey cable-knit sweater off the hanger. She digs around her messy room for a decent pair of jeans. KJ’s monitoring eyes delay her search.
“You mind, perv?”
KJ stifles a laugh and puts the book down. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” She rests her back against the wall and plays with her hoodie strings. “Although, I have to say…pink-ass underwear, dad sweaters, and dude jeans…” The falter catches Mac’s attention, who is busy shoving her legs through an acid-washed pair. “You, my dear, are a mystery.”
Mac playfully rolls her eyes. “Listen, I can’t be too predictable, and cut the shit. You steal my sweaters all the time, thief.” She sits on the edge of the bed, her back to KJ, as she puts on socks.
“They’re comfy!” Her weak defense earns a chuckle. KJ crawls to the end of the bed and rests her chin on Mac’s shoulder. “You excited?”
Mac glances at her counterpart as she laces up her boots, muscle memory taking over. “Excited for what? For all I know, you’re leading me to a cold and miserable death.” Her tone has a dramatic, scared flare that makes KJ want to tackle her.
Instead, she wraps her arms around Mac and nuzzles into her cheek, turning her head so her lips are just beneath her ear. “If I wanted you dead, I’d have killed you a long time ago,” she whispers. Mac shivers and cracks a well-fought smile, bringing up her hands to place over KJ’s.
”Damn," She huffs. “You’re pretty damn persuasive.”
KJ lights up and pulls away, pushing off of Mac’s shoulders for momentum as she bounces off the crummy mattress. “Good. Let’s go.”
The afternoon sunlight pours through her curtain-less windows, highlighting the copper in Mac’s hair and the amber in her light eyes. KJ has to discreetly hold onto the casing so she does not swoon and fall flat on her face.
”Fuck. Erin’s right.” Mac moves and stands in front of KJ, who is distracted by her own incapacitating stupor. “You got me whipped." She feigns sadness and looks down, despondently.
KJ giggles, high-pitched and shameless, and whirls Mac around; hinting her to move by pushing her butt with the sole of her foot. Mac stumbles forward and glares as she trudges down the hall.
“Jesus, okay! I’m going.”
-
KJ’s idea is not much of an idea. It is more of a plan that…is not much a plan. It is more of a baseline idea that generates smaller ideas, which are then jumbled and forced into an intelligible sequence. That is how most of their dates go, anyway. Organization is not their strong suit. All she knows is Mac needs this, whatever “this” might be.
The baseline idea: make Mac feel better.
A smaller idea: give Mac sustenance that is not deep-fried and heart attack inducing.
This leads to KJ’s house becoming a pit-stop. She leaves Mac, who opposes the idea, isolated in the car. She impatiently sits with crossed arms as the radio and air conditioning accommodate her. She is like a somewhat satisfied pet. KJ returns, five minutes later, with two scrunched-up lunch bags in her fists. Her backpack jolts around at her side as she crosses the lawn. The door slams behind her when she gets into the car. She sticks the bags in Mac’s lap and throws her backpack in the very back seats of the wagon.
Mac is confused. “The fuck are you-“
KJ shushes her by raising the back of her hand, clicking her belt on with the other. The gear shifts into reverse and KJ puts her arm around Mac’s seat, scanning behind her as she pulls out of the driveway. ”Just roll with it.”
Another smaller idea: be alone. Mac likes having room to breathe without people shoving unwanted opinions down their throats.
So, KJ drives out to Edgewater. It keeps its reputation as a couples spot, but broadened the degree of popularity in its attendees. A rambunctious group beats them there, a bonfire signaling their invasive party as the orange sun reflects on the lake water.
”Son of a bitch,” KJ spits out, driving past the crowded parking area without slowing down. “Should’ve known.”
Mac snorts and watches as the teenagers gradually disappear, a thick wall of trees blocking her view as they drive along the empty road. The bumps make the paper bags shift, redirecting Mac’s focus. She peeks inside one and sees an…apple?
”I knew you’d fly off the rails one day, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.” Mac glances at KJ, expecting rebuttal from her snide remark, but KJ is not even listening. She is hunched over, eyebrows furrowed, as hell-bent fists keep the wheel at ten-and-two. Genuine worry began to swell. “Uh, Kaje…what are we doing?”
“You’ll see.”
The car swerves onto a fork in the road. Their path briefly becomes encompassed by pine trees before the lake occupies the horizon. Glistening water catches each color of the flaming sky, making it an enchanting sight. Mac drops her jaw. The car stops once they are on the other side of the lake. The bonfire smoke becomes a single, grey thread in the air due to the immense distance. KJ parks in front of the small precipice that overlooks the water. Nature is mostly untouched where they are, with limited expanse and light poles, but it is quiet. Just them, the soft wind, and the twilight.
“Okay.” KJ turns the car off and lets gratified hands collapse into her lap. Her head tilts to Mac, who sits with a million questions running through her mind. “To the back, we go.”
Her door squeaks open and slams shut. KJ walks to the back of the station wagon and opens the rear door. Tiffany, Erin, and Mac all relentlessly teased her for willingly choosing a car of this magnitude and status, but it has its moments. This is one of them.
Mac comes around the passenger side, holding the lunch bags. She inadvertently stands like a sack of potatoes as KJ leans over the two-seater, searching for Mac’s backpack she had carelessly thrown earlier. It drags over the cloth and clunks beside her. KJ moves her backpack to her side and kicks Mac’s into the other seat. She gesticulates beside her with a head movement. Mac gives up asking questions and obeys.
KJ shifts her body, folding one leg under the other as it sways against the bumper. “We’re gonna get you back on track, beau. At least for this week.” She unzips her backpack and pulls out a portable Discman.
Mac raises an eyebrow and slowly leans into the back of the seat. Crickets begin to chirp as the woods around them fall ashen with dusk.
”I brought a copy of that CD I made you, like, a year ago. Y’know, some of your favorites.” She raises a stern finger. “Before you say anything, yes, I made a copy just in case, shut your mouth.”
Mac warmly smiles. She watches as KJ continues her cute babble, which picks back up with the bags as the next explanation. “You eat like a rich raccoon on sterioids.”
Mac interrupts with a scoff, which shifts into a curt laugh. “Fair.”
KJ smiles. “I know you well enough to know you haven’t had anything remotely healthy in forever, so I made brain food.” She takes a bag from Mac and opens it, taking out its contents piece by piece. “Fuji apple, I buy those just for you, by the way. I know they’re the only kind you like. Uh, let’s see, turkey on wheat, hummus and bell pepper-“
Mac blinks. She swallows the overwhelming flood of sentiment that comes from the realization that KJ is doing all this for her. She cannot let it show, of course. “Do I look like I eat hummus?”
A noise catches in KJ’s throat as she rolls her eyes. “Humor me.”
Mac raises her hands in defeat and lets KJ continue. KJ bites into the apple, keeping it between her teeth as she points at Mac’s backpack.
Down to the last two smaller ideas.
The apple crunches as she tears it away. “I’m gonna suffer with you. We’re gonna get homework out of the way so you can breathe for the rest of the weekend. Then, I’m gonna work out those bitchy knots. I know you don’t like massages, but I don’t like seeing you in pain, so I will hold you down if you don’t let me.”
KJ clicks the Discman on. Acoustic guitar blasts from its compact speakers as “More Than Words” starts playing. KJ sets the apple down and rifles through her backpack, brightly looking at Mac and waiting for her to do the same.
“So, what are we starting with? English?”
And all Mac can do is stare.
Her chest cavity plunges into her stomach as total devotion hits her like a ton of bricks. KJ always takes her breath away- always. After Hell Morning in 1988, when it happened for the first time, it seemed to happen every single day since. KJ has a way of making her feel like she is the most important person in existence, but this considerate, sweet gesture takes the cake.
Mac is not one to discredit words; words are substantial. Powerful. They mean everything to her. She never says anything that does not have some truth to it. They keep the world on its axis; keep her world on its axis, so she never truly understood the song that has been drowning out her muted state until now. Until the realization that the love of her life proves that she is loved beyond words, that she has many times before, actually, because to KJ, action speaks for itself. Mac does not think that it is possible to fall harder, but KJ has swept her off her feet yet again.
”Mac?”
The unstable, rampant flush that plagues her entire body prohibits any semblance of speech. Mac tries to talk but is physically incapable. It has happened before, but not like this. She clears her throat and rips her backpack open, taking out a notebook and pencil and scribbling like a mad-man on the last page. KJ watches attentively. She draws her dangling leg up and sits criss-cross. Mac shoves the page in her face when she is done.
“I can’t talk. You have out-gayed yourself, and I can’t handle it. I love you so much.”
KJ chuckles and bites the inside of her cheek. Her smile is so wide, it burns her facial muscles. Mac’s loving look transports her back to their first kiss. The instability she had felt in her knees re-manifests in her heart. It feels like it one of her heartstrings would snap, sending the muscle battering around, and she would have no control over it. Almost four years together, and Mac still manages to make her nervous.
With a shaky exhale and a quivering hand, KJ takes the pencil from Mac and rests the notebook on her lap. Mac sits back against the side, her red face resting against a palm. She turns redder when she sees what KJ wrote.
”Great, thanks. Now I can’t talk. I love you more, beau. I’m taking advantage of this opportunity by saying I love you More Than Words. Get it?”
Mac cannot take it anymore. She stumbles forward and kisses KJ, deep and intimate. KJ leans into it, allowing the notebook to fall from her lap and onto the dirt. They stay pleasantly distracted for a while before KJ finally pulls away, retrieving the notebook from the ground.
“Okay, seriously,” she messily scratches across the page, “let's do your homework.”
Mac silently protests and switches her seating position so that they sit side-by-side. She steals one last affectionate glance at her girlfriend before stealing the notebook back and parroting words she had said not two hours earlier.
”Fine. Anything for you, tease.”
Oh, how she means it.