“No, Blue.” He shook his head in exasperation. “That's not what I meant. Beautiful girls, hard girls, girls who grew up way too fast and who would chew up chaps like me up and spit them back out.”
“Yeah. Like I said. Mean skanks.” I pushed my plate away and slurped my drink loudly, indicating it was all gone. I stood up, communicating the end of our conversation and the end to our “cozy meal.” Wilson just stared up at me, and I could tell I'd made him angry. Too bad. I smiled at him slowly, sarcastically, showing lots of teeth. What had been a lighthearted conversation had suddenly take on a different tone. He ran his hands through his hair and pushed his plate away as well. He tossed a couple bills on the table and stood. He walked toward the register, away from me, dismissing me. He paid for both of our meals and left the cafe. I waved at Beverly, who blew me a little kiss.
“See ya in the morning, Blue. Tell Wilson I said cheerio.”
Wilson was waiting for me outside, his hands shoved in his pockets and his face raised toward the sunset. One of my favorite things about the desert were the sunsets. The sky above the low-lying western hills cast pink and purple ripples up into the descending night sky. Maybe it was because there was nothing to obscure the view – Las Vegas sat down in the valley, and Boulder City sat higher, to the southeast, around the bend of the eastern hills – but the sunsets never failed to move me and remind me of times with Jimmy when I wasn't so hard, when I hadn't had to grow up so fast. Wilson didn't speak as I approached, and we began to walk in silence. My increasing size forced me to waddle, but Wilson adjusted his stride as we made our way toward home.
“Why do you do that?” Wilson bit out eventually. I knew he'd been working up a good mad.
“Do what?”
“Assume the worst. Put words in my mouth, call yourself names, all of it. Why?”
I thought for a minute, wondering how I could possibly make someone like Wilson understand how if felt to be a “girl like me.”
“The first time I had sex I was fourteen, Wilson. I didn't necessarily want it, but there you go. He was an older boy, and I liked his attention. He was nineteen, and I was easy pickings.” I shrugged. “I've had sex many times since then. Some people might say that makes me a slut, and the fact that I make no apologies for it might qualify me as a bitch. Calling myself a mean skank is mild, if you look at it that way. I'm not proud of it – and I'm trying to change it – but it's the truth, and I'm not really interested in making excuses for myself.”
Wilson had stopped walking and was staring at me. “Fourteen?! That's not sex. It's statutory rape, Blue.”
“Yeah, Wilson. In many ways, it was.”
“Bugger!” Wilson whispered, incredulous. “I don't bloody believe this!” Then he yelled, “Bugger!” again, this time so loudly that some people crossing the street stopped and stared. A woman was driving by in her car with her window down as he yelled, and she frowned at us. The poor woman thought Wilson was yelling at her.
“Let me guess, nothing happened to him? Right?” Wilson turned on me as if it were me he was angry with. I knew it wasn't. In fact, Wilson's anger was incredibly validating. I found that telling him did not upset me and, for the first time, remembering didn't make my insides quake.
“What do you mean? Of course not. I told Cheryl, she made sure I was on the pill, and I . . . got over it.”
“Aaargh!” Wilson yelled again, kicking at a rock and sending it flying. He mumbled and swore and seemed incapable of rational speech, so I walked along beside him, waiting him out. After a couple of blocks, he reached out and took my hand in his. I had never held a boy's hand while walking beside him. Wilson's hand was much bigger than mine, and it engulfed mine, making me feel delicate and cherished. It was incredibly . . . sexy. If I hadn't been hugely pregnant, if I hadn't just confessed my ugly past, I might have made a move on Wilson right then. I might have taken his wonderful face in my hands and kissed him until we were both wrapped around each other in the middle of the sidewalk.
I laughed silently at myself and pushed the thought away. I was pretty sure Wilson would run screaming for the hills if I ever made a move on him. That wasn't the nature of our relationship. It definitely wasn't the nature of his feelings for me. Plus, with my belly sticking out the way it did, getting close might be impossible. We walked until the sunset faded and dusk dimmed our view. The streetlights began to flicker on as we neared Pemberley.
“Make a wish!” I cried, pulling on Wilson's hand. “Quick! Before all the lights come on!” In the Vegas area, the night sky always had an orange cast. Neon and night life combined to make star-gazing almost impossible. So I had created my own variation of wishing on stars. I wished on streetlights instead.
I squeezed my eyes shut and clung to Wilson's hand, encouraging him to do the same. I mentally ran through a litany of wishes, some of them the same wishes I always made – riches, fame, never having to shave my legs again – but there were new ones, too. I snapped my eyes open to see if I'd gotten them in before the last streetlight flickered on. The last one buzzed and glimmered as I watched.
“Boo–yah!” I hip bumped Wilson. “Those wishes are definitely coming true.”
“I can't keep up, Blue.” Wilson said softly. “I'm always reeling with you. Just when I think I know all there is to know, you reveal something that absolutely guts me. I don't know how you've survived, Echohawk. I really don't. The fact that you're still making jokes and wishing on streetlights is a bit of a miracle.” Wilson reached out as if to touch my face, but let his hand fall at the last second. “Remember that time in class when I asked you why you were so angry?”