Read Online I Regret Everything by Seth Greenland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Seth Greenland
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But my exchange with the perfect Katrina made me feel lumpy and unformed. Some people have the power to make you feel crappy about yourself. Itâs fine when you see them in magazines or on the Internet. Itâs harder when theyâre across from you at the breakfast table.
Mr. Best had the opposite quality. When he smiled it made me picture a cabinet with a healing light inside. The cabinet opened just a crack and troubles vanished in the radiant glow. When it closed you lived for the moment it swung open again. Did he think I was attractive or did he consider himself too old for me? Why did I make that joke about âhalfway to deadâ when he told me his age? I kept thinking about Mr. Best, if Iâd done anything to intrigue him, whether I was flickering in his consciousness, if he even gave me a momentary thought, and as I began to absently massage my breasts it occurred to me that on my first evening in Stonehaven I should probably wait until everyone had gone to bed before masturbating. It had been forever since I had touched myself, and it was disorienting to be contemplating it now. Before the incident I would think about sex a lot. The absence of desire was not something you noticed but when it returned your thoughts converged like filings on all the magnetic places. Were the effects of the meds starting to dissipate?
In the bathroom down the hall I threw cold water on my face. The mirror was a comfort because, instead of reflecting back the scaly visage of a hideous ogre, I saw a relatively pretty nineteen-year-old girl whose false smile could pass for real in low light. Yet Mr. Best didnât seem the slightest bit interested. He still hadnât responded to the text, which didnât really surprise me. Maybe Iâd send him a book, or some of my poems with a note asking him to tell me what he thought. I could send him the book first, to soften him up. Itâs not good to ask people for stuff right away.
The glimmering landscape faded and Edward P arrived home. He appeared in my room with a bottle of beer in his hand and welcomed me to Connecticut, then asked me to join him in the driveway.
âJust got it today, Edward P said. What do you think?
âItâs cool, I said since thatâs what he wanted to hear.
The gleaming red Tesla glowed prosperously in the outdoor lights. Cody sat in the driverâs seat, a maniacal glint in his eye, hands gripping the steering wheel, wrenching it side to side. Marshall stood next to Edward P and me in front of the car, regarding his brother as if he were a chimp in a cage. Moths flitted around us in the warm evening.
âMarshall, our father said, donât let me catch you driving this thing.
âWhy would I want to?
Edward P looked at him curiously. He didnât quite know what to make of Marshall. Codyâs uncomplicated aggression was more understandable to him.
âAnd Spaulding, that goes double for you.
âCan you teach me how to drive?
âSure, he said, with no enthusiasm. Are you sure youâre ready?
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?
Edward P looked at me uneasily. He didnât want to get into it but I could tell he was wondering if I was stable enough to get behind the wheel of a car. Iâm fine! I wanted to yell, to pound on his chest. That whole thing last Christmas was a great big holiday-wrapped mistake! Dr. Margaret told me that the only way I could ever convince anyone would be with behavior, not words. Hurricane Katrina appeared at the kitchen door and announced that dinner was ready. Edward P told Cody to get out of the car.
âOne more minute, Cody said.
âGet your little butt out of there now, Edward P commanded.
Cody dejectedly followed the order. After slamming the door he spotted a moth that had landed on the hood of the car and promptly crushed it.
âGoddammit, Cody! Can we wait a day before we screw up the paint job?
Edward P took out a handkerchief and
Mr. Best had the opposite quality. When he smiled it made me picture a cabinet with a healing light inside. The cabinet opened just a crack and troubles vanished in the radiant glow. When it closed you lived for the moment it swung open again. Did he think I was attractive or did he consider himself too old for me? Why did I make that joke about âhalfway to deadâ when he told me his age? I kept thinking about Mr. Best, if Iâd done anything to intrigue him, whether I was flickering in his consciousness, if he even gave me a momentary thought, and as I began to absently massage my breasts it occurred to me that on my first evening in Stonehaven I should probably wait until everyone had gone to bed before masturbating. It had been forever since I had touched myself, and it was disorienting to be contemplating it now. Before the incident I would think about sex a lot. The absence of desire was not something you noticed but when it returned your thoughts converged like filings on all the magnetic places. Were the effects of the meds starting to dissipate?
In the bathroom down the hall I threw cold water on my face. The mirror was a comfort because, instead of reflecting back the scaly visage of a hideous ogre, I saw a relatively pretty nineteen-year-old girl whose false smile could pass for real in low light. Yet Mr. Best didnât seem the slightest bit interested. He still hadnât responded to the text, which didnât really surprise me. Maybe Iâd send him a book, or some of my poems with a note asking him to tell me what he thought. I could send him the book first, to soften him up. Itâs not good to ask people for stuff right away.
The glimmering landscape faded and Edward P arrived home. He appeared in my room with a bottle of beer in his hand and welcomed me to Connecticut, then asked me to join him in the driveway.
âJust got it today, Edward P said. What do you think?
âItâs cool, I said since thatâs what he wanted to hear.
The gleaming red Tesla glowed prosperously in the outdoor lights. Cody sat in the driverâs seat, a maniacal glint in his eye, hands gripping the steering wheel, wrenching it side to side. Marshall stood next to Edward P and me in front of the car, regarding his brother as if he were a chimp in a cage. Moths flitted around us in the warm evening.
âMarshall, our father said, donât let me catch you driving this thing.
âWhy would I want to?
Edward P looked at him curiously. He didnât quite know what to make of Marshall. Codyâs uncomplicated aggression was more understandable to him.
âAnd Spaulding, that goes double for you.
âCan you teach me how to drive?
âSure, he said, with no enthusiasm. Are you sure youâre ready?
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?
Edward P looked at me uneasily. He didnât want to get into it but I could tell he was wondering if I was stable enough to get behind the wheel of a car. Iâm fine! I wanted to yell, to pound on his chest. That whole thing last Christmas was a great big holiday-wrapped mistake! Dr. Margaret told me that the only way I could ever convince anyone would be with behavior, not words. Hurricane Katrina appeared at the kitchen door and announced that dinner was ready. Edward P told Cody to get out of the car.
âOne more minute, Cody said.
âGet your little butt out of there now, Edward P commanded.
Cody dejectedly followed the order. After slamming the door he spotted a moth that had landed on the hood of the car and promptly crushed it.
âGoddammit, Cody! Can we wait a day before we screw up the paint job?
Edward P took out a handkerchief and
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