by Sierra Hill
I shove Sienna’s shoulder, knocking her over on the bed. “I’m pretty darn sure I won’t find the man of my dreams tonight at Matt’s party.”
She scoffs. “Who says anything about the man of your dreams? I’m not suggesting you find your Prince Charming, but you have to at least go where the guys are to get the dirty deed down and over with. Unless…” she waggles her perfectly plucked eyebrows suggestively. “You’re looking for a chick to help you out.”
My eyes flash wide and my mouth gapes open. Okay, maybe I’m a little naïve, because I have no idea how two girls could…well…do that? Sienna seems to understand what I’m thinking because a sly smile creeps up into the corners of her mouth.
She pats one of my knees, which are in a crossed-legged position.
“Oh, my sweet little Chery Pie,” she chides sarcastically. “Do I have to spell it out for you? You of all people, studying the sciences and biology, should know that virginity isn’t necessarily a medical condition. You can still lose it with someone of the same gender.”
I feel my cheeks color in a bright blush and glance away from her. It’s almost as embarrassing as the day my mom sat me and Kady down and had the “talk.” It was too late for Kady, however, who’d already done it and informed me of all the ins-and-outs (pun intended) of sex.
Waving my hand in the air to stop any more talk, I jump off the bed to find my shoes.
“Okay, okay…please don’t go into detail. I get it. But I’m not going to go to a party to lose my virginity. I’ve got some major reading to get done this weekend, anyhow. My paper is due before I leave on Wednesday.”
Sienna pops off the bed and turns toward our dorm room door.
“Fine, I won’t pressure you. But you know you’re always invited with me, and whether you get laid or not is irrelevant. We’d have fun regardless.” She blows a kiss in my direction before closing the door, heading into the small bathroom we share with our suitemates.
I got so lucky with my roommate assignment. There is no doubt that she has become a good friend and we will be friends for a long time to come.
But the friend I really need tonight is four hours away, at a completely different school, in a completely different state.
And likely thinking about a completely different girl.
6
Van
All I can think about lately is seeing Kylah again during Thanksgiving break, even though I should want to spend time with Lyndsay.
My basketball pre-season began in early November with several non-conference games – both were away games and on the road. We lost both, mainly due to being down two of our good players. One was Cade Griffin, who’d been suspended due to his recent legal issues. The accounts of his arrest, sentencing and probation all came out in a press conference back in September, at which time, Coach Welby announced that Cade would be benched for the first three games of the season.
While some of the team was disappointed in him, as well as many of his supposed fans, I stuck behind him. I respected the hell out of him for taking accountability for his actions and turning things around. He’s a role model any young kid could easily look up to.
The other player we lost was Jeremy Munson, one of our junior forwards, who tested positive for anabolic steroids and is now suspended for the entire calendar year. Not only did he screw his scholarship, but he severely hamstrung us this season. Now our team’s balance is completely messed up.
Unfortunately, I can’t blame either Cade’s absence or Jeremy’s suspension for our loss last weekend. That one is entirely on me and was all my fault. I am the one who let everyone down – the coaches, the staff, the team, the fans. I got ejected from the game for a flagrant foul. I got in a fight with Jalen Hawkins.
I wasn’t in a good headspace going into the game that night to begin with. Right between the team warm-up and game time, I’d been talking on the phone with Lyndsay, who normally called to give me a pep talk and wish me luck.
Instead, she mentioned the one thing everyone dreads hearing when they’re in a relationship. The “we need to talk” announcement. Truthfully, I would have rather had darts thrown at my naked body or suffer an excruciating loss to UNC than to sit through the agonizing conversation about what I’m doing wrong in her eyes or how I don’t stack up anymore.
I know something’s going on with her. I just don’t know what’s changed or even when, but it has. As far as I’m concerned, we’re still the same people we were at the beginning of the semester. I know I haven’t changed.
Looking back now over the summer we spent together back home, I thought we had a great time together, like we always did. Or so I thought. The sex was still good, in my opinion, although it wasn’t as frantic as it was when we first began. I guess the old adage is true, everything can become routine if you let it. Maybe we were just too comfortable with one another and I didn’t give her the same level of attention as I did in the earlier years. In those days, we’d spend every waking hour together, as much time as we could. In the evenings, after our work days were done, we’d take a drive, go swimming in the lake near our house, and layout on blankets with our faces to the stars and talk.
That was then. This is now.
Since September, I’m lucky if I even talk to her once a week. At one point a few weeks back, I became so worried that something bad had happened to her because I hadn’t heard from her in over five days. I actually called her sister, Lara, to see if everything was okay. Lara seemed hesitant at first to discuss it, but made some lame excuse about Lyndsay’s school schedule and all the work she had to do.
Even at the time it didn’t sit right with me. I fumed for several days. It was on my list of things to talk about when I saw her over break. That was until my confrontation with Jalen on the basketball court.
Jalen and I, we go way back – since we were in traveling select basketball leagues back in our formative years. He now attends Rice University in Houston and is a rising All-Star who we all think will be drafted at the end of the season. We aren’t the best of friends, but we hang out whenever we’re in the same city.
Although we aren’t tight, it still makes our confrontation on the court disheartening. We’d just returned from halftime and started the second half, eighteen minutes to go. My team was down six points, but we were fired up after our halftime locker room pump up session.
A Rice player had just taken a shot and I’d rebounded, passing the ball swiftly to our point guard and captain, Carver. Sprinting down the court, I positioned myself outside the three-point line, allowing the remainder of the team to set up for one of our offensive plays, which Carver signaled with the verbal cue of “Eileen”. That meant that I was to head to the top of the key, receive the pass, and dribble it in to shoot and get the points under the basket.
As with any sport, there’s a fair share of taunts, jeers and trash talking. This game, in particular, was fueled with a lot of lip. Due to my easy-going nature, I normally let those comments slide. They’re only meant to get me ruffled so I lose focus.
I’d just received the pass from Scott, one of our forwards, and was dribbling it in, watching the shot clock, as Jalen stood guard in front of me.
“Yo, Van…saw your girl last weekend. You two not together anymore?”
Normally, I’m in the zone, and zingers about my mama or team don’t bother me. This one, though, had my attention snapping from the ball and basket to Jalen, my eyes narrowing at the audacity of what he was implying.
“What the fuck, bro?” I shout, noticing the clock is quickly dropping to under five seconds and I hear Coach yell from the sidelines to take the fucking shot. Keep in mind, I’ve been playing basketball since I was old enough to run. I know every diversion tactic there is on the court. And in that moment, I know Jalen is just trying to get in my head. But what he said next had me fucking losing it.
A smirk the size of the Rio Grande appears on Jalen’s face.
“Just calling it like I see it…since she was suck
ing Cody Leach’s dick and all, I figured you guys were over.”
It was then that I lost control of the ball and before I could recover from his comment, Jalen had swiped it from my hands and started dribbling it down to the opposite end of the court. The entire place erupted in an audible gasp, the sound a sleeping dragon might make upon waking to find his lair infiltrated.
My brain caught up with my body as I launched myself at Jalen, encircling him with my arms and tackling him to the floor. Yeah, not my finest hour. For a minute there I forgot I was a basketball player and not on a football team. That tackle would’ve been sick out on the grid iron.
The problem with this little attempt to stop him mid-court? In the game of basketball, a player cannot touch, grip or make physical contact with another player who has the ball. In this case, it’s considered an intentional foul.
However, it quickly turned into an all-out brawl, as the ball got jarred from his hands and I started wailing on him. All my frustration over what had been going on between me and Lyndsay over the last few months came out in a blur of punches, kicks and curses.
“What the fuck you say, motherfucker?” Jab. Kick. Punch.
Jalen squirmed underneath me, rocking left and right to try and protect his face from my fists, which was unleashing like a plane propeller.
“Get the hell off me!” He blocked my next punch and his knee got a good jab at my balls. “No wonder your girl is fucking someone else. You’re fucking crazy, man!”
All I saw was red. My vision blurred, my ears filled with a white noise so loud it could drown out a New York city street during rush hour. I can’t remember what happened next, all I know is someone pulled me off and I was being held against my will as I struggled to get loose.
The next thing I know, I’d been given a technical foul by the ref and ejected from the game. I was quickly escorted back to the locker rooms by one of the assistant coaches where I stewed over my anger the remainder of the game. It was a colossal fuck up.
I fucked up colossally.
After I’d cooled down enough to realize what had just happened, my first thoughts were of my parents and my brother. If they saw my melt down on Sports Center or on the news, they’d be embarrassed by my behavior. I wasn’t the type of player that got into pissing matches. I never lose my cool. That’s just not who I am.
I apparently have a breaking point and a hot button. My second coherent thought was what if what Jalen said was true? Or was it just a trumped up lie just to get me riled up and into my head?
I thought back to all the games we’ve played together in the past, and although he was always talking trash, he never personalized like this. He’d never attacked anyone down to the quick like he did with me tonight. So that meant there must be some validity in his statement. And to get to the bottom of it, I’d have to confront the only person I knew who had the real story.
After the game, I tried calling her –five times – each one went directly to her voicemail. On the fifth and final attempt, I left her what was probably an accusatory, incoherent message.
“I want to know why you don’t answer my calls anymore, Lynds. Why the hell can I never get ahold of you? Where are you all the time? Why are you always too busy to talk to me? And oh yeah…please tell me you’re not fucking Goddamn Cody Leach. You better believe we’re gonna have a talk when I see you next week. If the rumor is true…goddamn it, Lyndsay. I don’t deserve that.”
I’d hesitated a second, pushing back the tears that had gathered behind my eyelids. I blame it on the anger and the adrenaline of the fight. But I know it ran much deeper than that. “I thought you loved me.”
I couldn’t get out another syllable without choking on the words or crying like a pussy, so I simply pressed the end button and hung my head in my hands. I felt the crack in my world that instant – the chasm breaking my heart in two. My life as I had known it for years was about to change without my permission – collapsing down around my feet.
The pain was excruciating
I’m parked outside Lyndsay’s house, waiting for her to come out so we can go to dinner.
She’d called me back the night of the game, after I’d drowned my sorrows in one too many beers. I was still sober enough to hear her guilt over the phone. She was too smart to openly admit that she was fucking someone else, but she did have the guts to tell me that yes, indeed, she was at a party with Cody Leach and that she would tell me about it when we got together at Thanksgiving.
So here I am, tapping on the horn to let her know I’m here. I should go up to her door and say hello to her mother, who is still grieving over the loss of her husband just six months ago, but I just can’t seem to find the nerve to get out of the car. My fingers curl around the steering wheel with a death grip, my knuckles turning white.
The car door opens but I will my eyes to stay focused in front of me. I will not look over at her, for fear of losing it right here in my car. Lyndsay’s familiar scent fills the interior, surrounding me with memories of my youth, and I have to close my eyes, trying to avoid all the moments that bombard my brain. Images of our first kiss; our first date; lying together naked after we both lost our virginity together, limbs entwined as if we were each other’s lifeline. All of it was too much and I have to bite my lip to restrain myself from reaching over and pulling her into my arms.
But I don’t. I won’t fall for the nostalgia.
She shifts in her seat. “Hey, babe.”
When I whip my head in her direction, she has the decency to look apologetic for using the pet name in greeting. I’m sorry, but she does not have the right to throw out a term of endearment right now.
Her voice softens, offering up a bargain in its wake. “Can we swing by The Blue Horse and pick something up to go? Head out to Coal Springs?”
“Yeah, sure. That’s fine.” My voice is tight and dispassionate.
We get to the restaurant and order a pizza to go, as we make small talk in the waiting area. As we stand together, I notice a few nuances in her physical features that I hadn’t noticed the last few times I saw her.
She appears thinner than she’s been in the past few years – her blouse hangs loose at her shoulders and her waist is drawn in where it’s tucked in at the hem of her shorts. As an athlete, Lyndsay is tall and has carried a lot of muscle. That muscle is still there, but she looks gaunt.
It’s in her face, too. Her eyes are shadowed underneath and her skin holds a gray pallor.
“Lynds,” I say her nickname and her eyes flit to mine in surprise, as this is the first time I’ve actually said her name since I picked her up. “Are you okay? You’re not looking so good.”
She appears to think about my comment, which is far from a compliment, and just as she opens her mouth to respond, our order is called. I walk up to the window and grab the box, and we head back out to the car. All of this triggers memories for me. We’ve done this so many times I can’t even count. Picking up food and heading out to our favorite spot at The Springs, which is really just a big pond by an old coal mine.
As soon as we’re back on the road, Lyndsay returns to my question.
“I don’t think I’m okay, Van…”
Her voice is laden with sorrow. Weariness. Truth. Consequences.
“What is it?” She has me worried now. Especially after her father’s sudden death earlier in the year, it’s made me extra mindful of how brief life can be and how quickly it can disappear.
On autopilot, I reach over and grab her hand that’s gripping the edge of the car seat, but she pulls it from my grasp.
“Van, I’m pregnant.”
Oh shit.
That was not what I expected to hear.
I’m literally speechless. And I’m counting back to the last time we had sex. Did we use protection? Yes. We were always super careful. She has an IUD and I typically use a condom, unless we’re drunk and sloppy.
It was a joint decision we made when we first started sleeping together. We didn’t want to
be young parents trying to raise a child without college degrees or careers. But we’d talked about it; what our lives would look like in the future. Our family that we’d have.
Someday. But not now. Not yet.
All my hostility I’d been carrying around with me evaporates. I pull into the gravel lot at The Springs entrance where only a handful of cars are parked. I lean over to - do what, I’m not sure? Touch her? Hold her? Whatever I intend, she dismisses by crossing her arms over her chest and turning her face in the opposite direction, avoiding my scrutiny. In search of answers somewhere outside the window.
“Wow, okay. You’re pregnant…not the end of the world. What do you want to do, Lynds? I’ll do whatever you want. If you want to have it, we’ll have it. We’ll get married. We’ll…”
And then that crack in my world splits wide open, the San Andreas fault opening up inside my soul, swallowing me whole and sending me careening down to the bottom pits of hell.
“Van, it’s not yours. It’s not your baby.”
I can’t quite fathom what she’s just said. It’s a jumble of words, bouncing around in my head, and I’m unable to make sense of them.
“Whatdoyoumean?” I mumble.
She finally turns back to me, tears streaming down her face, agony written all over it like graffiti on a wall.
“I’m sorry,” she stammers, body shaking from the violent sobs escaping. “I’m so sorry…”
Well, I guess that puts an end to my questions over Lyndsay’s faithfulness.
You want to know what’s worse than finding out your girlfriend of five years is sleeping with another guy?
Finding out she’s carrying his child.
7
Kylah
I love the holidays.
Let me rephrase that. I used to love the holidays when we were all one big happy family.
My mom would go all Martha Stewart on us, fixing all the most incredible festive dishes. And she’d go all out with the baking and decorations. When everyone else was out at the malls shopping on Black Friday, mom would have me, Kady and Cade taking down all the boxes of Christmas decorations from storage and filling every nook and cranny in our house with holiday cheer, all the while Christmas music played in the background.