Janky Melted Frog
by Anja Jovanovic
It always went something like this: a post-lunch stop at the 7-Eleven would turn into passing by the park, leaving footprints on the hot tin slide and debating whether or not they could still squeeze into the baby swings; would turn into a trip to the lemonade stand, the one on the corner run by the girls who still wore plaid shorts and graphic tees; would turn into dinner, pasta usually, but every once in a while some exotic dish like chicken cordon bleu or cacciatore, whatever The Food Network had decided to feature that week; would turn into spending their leftover change on a kid’s scoop (they were fifty cents cheaper); would turn into recreating old music videos that MTV had aired long ago and of which they had blurry memories; would turn into deciding they were too old for that, and gossiping about the stars of those videos instead; would inevitably turn into 2:00 a.m. down by the skatepark, splitting a joint and a plastic baggy of five-cent candy from earlier in the day, watching the boys skate by. Always watching the boys skate by. Their skinned knees and shaggy haircuts beckoning them over. Never saying hello, or my name is, or don’t your parents care what you’re up to at two in the morning? I know it’s summer, but still. Just watching from afar.
“Did you hear what happened to Connor?”
“Connor who?”
“What do you mean Connor who? Connor Williams. What other Connor do you know?”
“It’s a common name. And no, what happened to him?”
“Yeah, it’s a common enough name, but do you actually know any others?”
“I guess not.”
“Alright, so—" There was always an Alright, so with Nina. You could hardly get through a conversation about anything, really, without her at some point turning towards you, glint in her eye, those sweet words in her mouth, ready to follow them up with the most heinous family drama you could imagine. And it wasn’t just the high school basics of cheating and shit-talking, no no. They had long ago moved beyond that. What they were into now, what really satiated them, were fathers with gambling addictions texting their wives that they were working late and then heading to the casino, or housewives carelessly leaving tabs of top divorce lawyers open on shared computers, receiving automatic replies of quotes which exceeded the amounts in their joint bank accounts. Things which had once seemed like the utmost extreme of the human experience were now mundane. Of course they were. There were only so many brothers with secret porn addictions you could find out about before you were ready for juicer things. And often enough, Nina did have something juicer tucked away, held close until she felt it was the perfect moment to release it. It wasn’t just that she seemed to have a limitless vault chock-full of everyone-in-town’s business; she had a certain way of telling it, too. Called off weddings, cousins getting shipped off to rehab, anything a family could be wanting to keep hush-hush all became full-blown scandals for a select few ears once Nina got ahold of the news.
“Alright, so. I heard that Connor Williams knocked a girl up.”
“What? Who?”
“You don’t know her. She’s not in school with us.”
“Well, who is she in school with?”
“No one in town.”
“Oh, of course. He has a girlfriend but she goes to a different school. Come on, Nina. Where do you even hear these things?”
“No, I’m serious. I know how it sounds but this is as real as it gets. They met at a chess camp last summer, and then again over Christmas at the camp reunion.”
“What kind of summer camp has reunions?”
“It was a chess camp, Anna. You can imagine what those kids are like. Probably don’t have much else going on. I’m sure their parents thought it was nice they were getting out a bit, meeting other kids.”
“Fair enough. And that’s where he knocked her up?”
“No, that was at a Holiday Inn with all of their families.”
“He knocked her up at a Holiday Inn?”
Nina sighed. “No, Anna. That’s where the reunion was. They were supervised the whole time. That’s where they exchanged numbers, though.”
“And then?”
“Oh, you know how these things go.” Nina took a puff of the joint and exhaled into the sky, swallowing a cough. “They started meeting up. At first just once in a while, on the weekends. When they were out with friends anyway. Started going to the same spots. It was pretty casual at first. Then it turned into weekdays. When his brother moved away he left him his old car, so he started driving over to hers every day after school. That’s when it happened, I figure.”
“You figure?”
“I mean, it has to be. When else? And the dates line up. She’s getting an abortion soon. Her mom’s taking her out of town for it, though. So there’s no chatter.”
“Well, we’re chattering about it.”
“Right, but I’m telling you and you’re not going to tell anyone else, right? Plus, we don’t even know anyone from her school. So it doesn’t really count.”
“I guess,” Anna said. “God, my mom would be pissed if she had to take me to get an abortion.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. If she had to call out of work for it, she’d be pissed. If I made her miss one of her days off, even more pissed.”
“I think my mom would be okay about it.”
“Yeah. Your mom’s pretty good about things like that.” The sound of a crash interrupted them. One of the boys, inevitably. The one who always had on a tiny toque no matter the weather. No matter that it was August and his sweat stains were showing through the neon green wool. A phone buzzed gently in the background while he pulled himself back up, checking his arms, his elbows, his wrists.
“Anna, that’s yours.” Anna didn’t need to be told. It was always hers. Nina’s phone was usually dead, anyway, and she didn’t carry a charger around. Didn’t like being weighed down by material objects.
“Who is it?” Nina pressed.
“My mom.’”
“Should’ve guessed. What’s it say? She want you home?” Anna looked down at her phone: Anna. CBC alert from earlier today. Boy drowned. Stay away from any bodies of water. The river. Large puddles. All of it.
“She want you home?” Nina asked again.
“Not yet,” Anna said. “But probably soon. You know how she gets. Can’t sleep unless I’m home. Always worrying.”
“I know, I know. Always ruining the night, too.” Nina put on a lower voice and furrowed her brow: “Anna, don’t cross busy roads. Anna, stay away from geese.”
It was a fairly accurate representation. Her mother was always starting texts with Anna. Period. As if they could be going to anyone else. And they always had a certain tone to them. A certain bringing down of the mood: Anna. Take the chicken thighs out of the freezer to thaw; Anna. Where’s my powder? Once, last winter, she had received a text that just said Anna. and then a link. It had taken her to a video describing the dangers of falling through ice into deep water, and how one was to handle that situation should they find themselves in it. She hadn’t responded, and when her mother had asked why she’d said there were no large bodies of water that froze over in their vicinity. To this her mother had said: And if you’re out of the vicinity? What then?
Tiny toque was now back on his board trying to do some sort of spin while beads of sweat glued the front strands of his hair to his forehead.
“Alright, so—" Nina set in on Mila Cohen’s father, who they’d long suspected of having an affair, and who was now confirmed to be in the midst of one. While she went on about his wife—poor Lydia, had she even suspected?—Anna looked out just beyond the jump they were sitting on, out at the park littered with cigarette butts all smoked to the nub and, for the less adventurous, a rainbow assortment of disposable vapes. Their cotton candy and strawberry lemonade scents mixing with tobacco, with weed, with the juvenile sweat that seeped through all of their pores. By this time all that was left of the candy were the plasticky blue and white dolphins, a gummy fried egg, and one of those frogs that looked a bit deformed. From the heat, Anna thought, but it seemed just as likely that it had come a bit janky. No sour rings, no peaches. Just the leftovers. The ones you didn’t even realize had gotten into the bag, that you ate around until you were left with no other options. The ones you didn’t want at 3:00 p.m. but by 3:00 a.m., after sharing a joint, once you had checked your wallet and seen only a toonie, you decided you could make do with.
“—and so, I just think that if he had to cheat on her, if he really couldn’t control his urges, why do it with the nail lady all of her friends go to? He must have known. And of course she’s got a big mouth. All nail ladies do, you know. I got my nails done before my cousin’s wedding this past spring and the woman was telling me all about her son and how he was dating this really nice girl, but then one night, while he was asleep, she stole all of his stuff. Like, completely cleared out his apartment, even the condiments from the fridge, and just took off. Never heard from her again. And I love a bit of gossip, you know, but I just think that he could’ve been smarter about it. It’s almost like he wanted to get caught.” Anna nodded, contemplating this.
“Maybe,” she said.
“And you know what else? As if it wasn’t bad enough, I heard their aunt has started drinking again. The other day—"
“We’ve got four nights left, right?” Anna interrupted, turning her body away from the jumps and towards Nina.
“Four,” Nina agreed. “Well three, really. My mom wants to do a family dinner on my last night. Have everyone say their goodbyes and all that.”
“That’s nice.”
“It’s a bit dramatic, I think. It’s just university, it’s not like I’m going to prison. I’ll be home for Christmas, and maybe even a couple weekends before that. I’ll ask her if you can come, I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Yeah, I’ll be free,” Anna said. “It’s nice, by the way. Not dramatic. They’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss them too, probably. Not this place, though. I can’t wait to be out of here.”
“Really? You won’t even miss it a bit?”
“No. Why would I?”
“I don’t know. I don’t mind it here. There are worse places to be.”
Nina snorted. “Hardly.” She sat back and undid the zip tie on the plastic baggy. Instinctively, she pawed around the bottom, then took the last candy—that janky melted frog—out. Resting it on her tongue, testing her patience, she let her saliva melt away at it until it was a tiny nub. They sat in silence, their warm skin now cooling off in tandem with the concrete. It wasn’t until Nina commented on the goosebumps that had made a temporary home of her arm that either of them made the first move to get up and begin their trek home.
They walked side by side, dragging their feet along the sidewalk and cutting through grass, through patches of dirt that were once grass but had been trampled by too many feet, kicking aside rocks, shoving weeds, crushing the occasional dandelion, soon to be arriving home and falling into bed, the scent of the night and their sweat still on them, ready to repeat it all over again tomorrow and the next day.
“You know,” Anna said, “I just think that there are always things to miss.”
“What?”
“Earlier. That's what I was trying to say. I think you’ll miss things about this place that you don’t even realize you’ll miss.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Like getting banana-flavoured slurpees when it’s hot out. Or that weird movie theatre that has nails sticking out of some of the seats so you always have to be extra careful.”
“I’m sure every city has weird movie theatres. Even weirder, probably. And I don’t even like banana slurpees, it’s just because we saw a cockroach in the blue raspberry that one time, remember?”
Anna paused. “Yeah, I guess.” Below her feet, an ant illuminated by street lights was crawling in and out of a crack in the sidewalk. Becoming visible and then once again dipping into the ground, in and out of the light. It seemed to her that the crack might go on forever, writhing back and forth down roads and avenues, forever being avoided by old ladies with walking troubles and superstitious types, but it ended abruptly in front of Nina’s house instead.
“What time tomorrow?” Nina asked. “Noon?”
“I think I’m going for lunch with my mom.”
“Okay, so I’ll just meet you at 7-Eleven later?”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“Is this about the microplastics in the five-cent candy? I know they all start to taste rubbery after a bit in the heat, I don’t love it either. And I don’t want to freak you out but I think we’re probably ingesting so many microplastics anyway, I just don’t think a bit of candy will make much of a difference.”
“No, it’s not that. I have other plans.”
“With who?”
“With Sarah.”
“Sarah Moore? From chemistry?”
“What’s wrong with Sarah Moore from chemistry?”
“Nothing, I’m sure. It’s just that I’ve never even seen you guys talk.”
“You don’t know everyone I talk to. We’ve been talking a bit for the past few weeks.”
“We’ve gone to school with her since we were six and you’re just now talking to her?”
“She’s staying here next year too, so.”
“Oh. So you’re going to be friends with her just because she’s around?”
“Well, what should I do? Just sit around? Should I just wait for you to come back?”
“Whatever. Just text me when you’re free.”
Nina walked through her front door and as she did, with her back still turned to Anna, gave a small wave. The entrance light turned on, then off, followed by the staircase light, again on then off, then the big window facing the street lit up and stayed on. Nina’s bedroom. Back on the sidewalk, Anna’s feet twisted and turned, prolonging the trip as well as they could, until she finally reached the entrance of her own house. Bypassing her mother, who was passed out on the couch with the TV remote still in her hand, she locked the door behind her and went to bed.
ABOUT THE CREATOR
Anja Jovanovic is a Serbian-Canadian writer currently based in Dublin. She recently completed an MPhil in Comparative Literature, and her work has appeared in The Spotlong Review. In her free time, she enjoys taking advantage of cinema subscription programs and going on seasonal walks.