They drove for forty-five minutes into Georgia, their typical routine for any kind of public date, a habit they had no desire to break just yet. Izzy’s father would expect her to be out with her friends, unaware that she had none, to celebrate graduation, so she could be out late tonight without consequence. Izzy was not someone to show much affection, hated the obviousness of any romantic action that didn’t take place in private, but she kept resting her hand on Hal’s leg as he accelerated the car to where they wanted to go. She tried to focus on the good while keeping a realistic view of the possible disaster heading their way.
Hal had not said a single word since they got into the car. His jaw was tight and sometimes his lips pulled away from his teeth like a cornered dog showing its fangs, one of his nervous habits. Hal was a series of nervous habits, each one working in an ever-increasing symphony of compulsion. Sometimes his neck twitched, sometimes he bared his fangs, sometimes he shouted nonsense in ragged bursts of breath, sometimes his muscles stiffened so violently that it seemed as if he was having a seizure, sometimes he smashed his head into walls without warning. Izzy’s job was to try to anticipate these tics and direct them toward some goal. Usually, that was sex. Tonight, it was a movie. Whatever it was, she needed it to happen before he got too worked up.
Though it was still early and she wasn’t about to ruin the satisfaction of Hal’s allowance of the pregnancy, there had been no discussion about how they would make this happen. There had been no talk of moving in together. No talk of making their relationship known to the town, though it seemed impossible to keep it hidden much longer. There had been no talk of marriage, as strange as that discussion would be. She had hoped that perhaps some of these issues would be handled here, in the car, on the way to the movies, but Hal was working himself into a state of agitation. She simply stared ahead and hoped that, as the miles accumulated, they would find themselves changed.
Izzy had been a straight-A student in high school, so whip smart, seemingly without effort, that the teachers simply forgot about her. She showed so little enthusiasm for the subjects that her perfect scores on every test were seen as an anomaly and the teachers focused instead on the smart enough students who begged for attention. From her junior year until graduation, the guidance counselors assured her that she could receive a full ride to any of the state universities, but she informed them, politely, quietly, that she had no interest. She was smart and she wasn’t apologetic about it, but the studying and the memorization tore something loose in her each time, the fear that she was devoting her life to something that did not entirely interest her and would, ultimately, disappoint her. She imagined herself at a job making only slightly more than the minimum wage, as fucked as if she hadn’t spent four more years in school. Maybe, if things didn’t work out, she allowed, she would try community college, but for now she would continue to live with her father and keep working in the kitchen at the Whole Hog BBQ, which she’d been doing since she was fourteen. It was, she had to tell herself almost every single morning and every single night, a good enough life.
And then, Hal Jackson had appeared, or had at least made himself known to her, and, while she didn’t dream of altering her future for him, she allowed for an alteration to her present. She’d gone to him after school one day, a month after he had first shown signs of tenderness toward her, and had laid out her plan for him. The problem was this: She knew that she was the top student in the senior class. She had a perfect GPA, the highest average, and she did not skimp on the few AP courses the school offered, even if she had no intention of going to college. The problem, she now realized, was that the valedictorian, shit, even the salutatorian, had to give a speech at graduation. She could not do this. She could not imagine what that speech would sound like coming from her stunned lips. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t draw unnecessary and unpleasant attention her way?
Mr. Jackson had not understood the problem. “Just flunk a few classes,” he said. “I can’t do that,” she informed him. When he asked why not, she couldn’t give a satisfactory answer. “I guess I just can’t do it that way,” she finally said. “I have some pride, I’m finding out.” Mr. Jackson asked what he could do about it then. “You could fail me,” she responded, smiling.
“Actually, I’m going to give you an A plus just on the first month alone.”
“But I want you to fail me. I’m asking you to fail me.”
“Well, I just won’t do it,” he responded, folding his arms over his chest.
“If you don’t fail me,” she said, “I’ll just stop trying in your class.”