“I know, I couldn’t believe it either.”
“You’re not going to go, are you?” Kate said. She began closely studying the ends of her hair.
“Um, yes. I mean, I thought so. Why?”
She looked at me. “He and Nicky just broke up. Aren’t you worried you’re just a rebound fling?”
This wasn’t what I was expecting. I’d been expecting them to be happy for me, not—cautious. Kate had finished her study of her hair and was staring past me with her eyes unfocused, the way she got when she was working on getting into character.
“What’s wrong? I thought you would be excited.”
“I am,” Kate said, her eyes sliding back to me. “Of course I am. I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt. David is—he’s not exactly a monk.”
Langley had returned to her salad. “I was just surprised. Personally, I think it’s great,” she said, nibbling around the edges of the mouthful on her fork. “And so what if it is only a rebound, you guys will have a few fun weeks together and then you’ll both date other people.”
“Sure,” I said.
Instead David and I were now nearing our eight- month anniversary. I still smiled every time I saw his name on my caller ID or caught a glimpse of his car. I couldn’t believe he’d picked me. And if anything, he seemed to like me and want to spend time with me more with every passing week.
“I feel like I can trust you,” he said on our fourth date. “Like I can tell you anything,” and I felt so important, so loved.
He did confide everything to me, too—about the time when he was seven when he’d overwatered his father’s bonsai collection and his father had beaten him so hard his mother had to take him to the hospital. “Told the nurses I had an accident,” he said, matter-of-fact, no blame. “What could she do? If she’d said anything else, the man would have beaten her too.” About the time when he was twelve that his father made him go for four days without food or water because he’d forgotten to check the water filter in a prize-fish tank. It was no wonder David had inherited a little temper.
But there was also this soft, sweet, boyish side to him that I adored. The side that could sit and tell stories to Annie for hours, that loved old romantic movies or anything with the Muppets, that made tiny mewing noises when I rubbed his feet. He would bring me little presents for no reason, a necklace with a heart on it, an action figure of Wonder Woman because I reminded him of her. Things that meant something to him, that he hoped would mean something to me.
And there was the time, after we’d been going out for a month, when I woke up to the sound of knocking on my bedroom window. I opened it and he was there, shivering, even though it wasn’t that cold.
“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice unsteady.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, helping him over the threshold.
His eyes were clear and looked so bereft, so sad. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Can we, can you just love me for a minute?” he asked, and fell into my arms.
He started sobbing and, still holding him, I lowered us both onto my bed. For a long time we just lay like that, him in my arms, me comforting him like a child. He gripped me hard, so hard it hurt and left bruises the next day, but I didn’t care. That was him, how passionate he was. When his sobs had subsided, he looked at me and smiled more sweetly than I’d ever seen before.
“I love you, Jane,” he said. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
I lost my virginity to him that night, a token of love, of the trust he could have in me. He was wonderful and sweet and loved me. The only time we fought was if I had to break a date with him, but in a way, that just made me like him more because it showed how much he cared.
“So you’re really feeling better?” David said now, next to my hospital bed. He was fingering a beat against his leg, the way he did when he was anxious.
I nodded.
“Well enough to tell me what that surprise of yours was that I didn’t get to experience? It’s only fair, I already coughed up 139.”
I felt my chest tighten. I knew it would all be okay once I told him, but right now I didn’t want to do anything to ruin how good it was having him there. Besides, I might never get better and then it wouldn’t matter anyway. “Nope. I’m still saving it.”
“That is just mean.” He pouted with his gorgeous mouth.
“I know you can be patient.” I noticed he had a scratch on his face. “What happened to you, babe?”
His fingers went to it. “Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
He shrugged and pushed the sunglasses up his nose and stared into the middle distance. “Guess I was a little more out of it than I thought Thursday and I nicked the Despot’s car when I pulled in. We had a little tussle.”
“David,” I said, genuinely concerned.
“Babe, you got bigger things to worry about. So tell me, what do you do for kicks in this here town?”
“Well, cowboy, it’s a real hoot. Sometimes my mother comes to bother me, sometimes I get to bathe.” I was tempted to tell him about the writing on the mirror, but I didn’t want him to think I was being weird. “There’s a police officer who visits. But I don’t think she likes me much because I can’t remember anything.”
“What do you remember?” he asked. His fingers went a little faster.
“I remember coming in and sitting on your lap—”
“I remember that too,” he said. Smiled. “You looked amazing in those little fairy wings. And that, what do you call that top you were wearing?”
“A tube top.”
“Yeah. Nice.” I felt his gaze move away from me, like he was picturing that. Picturing how I had looked.
Suddenly I was acutely aware of how different I looked now. Now I had bruises on my face, I couldn’t move. Everything was—wrong. Different. “Was that the last time you saw me at the party?”
That seemed to jar him back to the present. Behind his sunglasses his eyes crinkled and his mouth got firm the way it did when he got angry. “What are you getting at?”
His reaction surprised me. It was the way he acted when someone disagreed with him or questioned what he said. “I’m not getting at anything. I’m just trying to piece together what happened. The doctor says some of my paralysis might be mental, so the more I can recall, the faster I’ll be able to move.”
“Sounds like BS to me. Why wouldn’t you want to move?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know. Maybe you could help me by helping me remember.”
His jaw loosened slightly. “Seriously? You don’t remember anything? You’re not jerking me around?”
“No.” I was relieved to see him relax slightly.
“Well, then I think the last time I saw you was when you abandoned me for the girls.” He pulled the hand he’d had wrapped around mine away. “Like you always do.”
My relief evaporated and I went totally cold inside.
Chapter 13
“I don’t always abandon you for my girls,” I insisted.
“Really? What about two weeks ago?”
What was going on? I had the sensation my world was slipping out from under me again. “We’ve been over that. You said you understood. You said you’d give me another chance.”
“Yeah,” he said, clenching and unclenching his hands, his body rigid. “Well, maybe I was wrong.”
Two weeks earlier David had the afternoon off from his job at the music store and we’d planned to hang out. During lunch Langley had been called to the principal’s office because her grandfather had been having trouble breathing. By last period she’d texted us to say that he was okay, but it seemed like she wasn’t. This was Langley, who prided herself on being independent and not needing anyone, but she sounded so shattered it was clear that she needed a dose of the three Ss—shopping, Slurpees, and sisterhood. It’s what friends do.
I left David a message that I’d be late and then headed to the mall with the girls. I didn’t hear back from hi
m, but while we were out, I made Kate and Langley stop to get his favorite cupcakes. In the past when we’d fought, I’d brought cupcakes for him as a peace gesture and it usually ended in me licking the frosting off of him.
When they dropped me at his house on the way home from the mall, no one answered the doorbell. His green Audi was in the driveway, and stepping back, I saw the curtain in his window move, so I knew he was home. I rang again. After a minute the intercom went.
“What?” he demanded. Not friendly. It was a good thing I’d splurged for the half-dozen cupcake pack.
“Um, it’s me, babe. I came by to say I’m sorry about today. And I brought you something.”
“I’m busy practicing,” he said, although I thought I heard music in the background.
My heart hammered. I hated his moods, his insecurities. I wanted him to understand how much I loved him. Why was it so hard sometimes? “It’s cupcakes.” My voice sounded meek.
“This just…isn’t going to work, Jane. It’s not that easy.” Yes, definitely music in the background. In fact, he was listening to the Doors, “Light My Fire,” the song we always made out to.
“What are you talking about?”
“You and I. Not like this.”
Was he breaking up with me over the intercom? I started to shake. “Can we at least talk? Face-to-face?”
“I don’t know.” A pause. “Fine, wait there.”
He came down a few minutes later wearing only jeans with his lightning-bolt-patterned boxers poking out the top. They were my favorites because he looked so insanely good in them.
He crossed his arms over his lanky chest, perfectly framing the small patch of freckles right above his toned abs. “So. Talk.”
I had to drag my eyes from his body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this would be such a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? We had a plan, babe, and you bagged it at the last minute.”
“But we were just going to hang out in your room.”
“Just? Because hanging out with me isn’t enough for you? It used to be. Look, babe, if you’re not committed to this relationship, if your friends are so much more important—”
“It’s not like that. Langley needed me.”
“You know, you’re using Langley an awful lot this way. Like I’m thinking maybe you’re just not that into this anymore.”
“This?”
He shifted his weight and shrugged his freckle-sprinkled shoulders. “Us.” His face was hollow, a mask. A stranger.
I felt desperate and my voice came out high and tight. “No, David, it’s not that. I am. I’m just trying to be a good friend. Besides, how many times have you canceled for band practice?”
He stepped back and put his hands up like I’d punched him. “Whoa. Did I just hear that right? Are you comparing shopping at the mall with my band?”
My heart sank into my stomach. What was I saying? “No, of course not. I—I’m just sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you and I didn’t think you would care that much and I’m really sorry.”
His gaze was focused on something over my head, like he couldn’t even bear to look at me.
I was crying and when I went to dry my eyes, I realized I was still holding the cupcakes. “Here. I got you these.”
He didn’t move.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Leave you?” He frowned.
I was so upset I didn’t even know what I was saying. “I mean forgive me. Please forgive me.”
Without looking at me he said, “I need some time,” took the cupcakes, and closed the door.
I’d walked home in the middle of the street, not even caring what happened to me. I was numb, frozen from the inside out. When I got home, Annie was doing something weird in the downstairs powder room. She saw me and came running out and stopped and stared. “You look sad,” she said.
“I’m fine,” I muttered.
She evaluated me through her thick glasses. “I’m playing Bride of Slime. Want to play with me? You can even be the bride.”
That was an honor, but not one I could accept right then. “No thanks. I’ve got to do my homework.”
She hugged me. “I’ll be in my office”—she pointed to the powder room—“if you change your mind.”
I watched her go back to playing and for a moment wondered how she could be so oblivious to how other people acted, what they thought, what was normal, and yet be so confident that she was adored.
Later that night David dropped by my house. I was listening to music, so I didn’t hear the doorbell or even his knock on the door of my room. I didn’t realize he was there until he had his hands on my shoulders, looking over the top of my head at what I was writing on the computer screen.
“‘Photography as Social Commentary,’” he read aloud. “What’s that for?”
“AP European History,” I told him, closing the document before he could read more. I turned to face him. “Did you come here to help me with my homework?”
He smiled and sat down on my bed, pulling my rolling desk chair toward him so I was between his knees facing him.
“I spent all afternoon thinking,” he said.
“I spent all afternoon crying.”
“Oh, babe.” He ran his left thumb over my cheek, across my neck, down my arm, following with his gaze. He started to massage my hand. I knew it turned him on to touch me like that and I felt my body respond.
He breathed out and raised his blue eyes back to mine. “We’re so good together, aren’t we?”
He kissed the palm of my hand softly. I swallowed and nodded.
He kissed the inside of my wrist. “We shouldn’t fight, should we?”
I shook my head.
He dropped my hand and leaned toward my mouth. I was desperate to feel his lips on mine. “You know what you did today, canceling like that, was wrong, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“Say it,” he said, his mouth inches from mine, smiling, teasing.
“Yes.”
“Otherwise you wouldn’t have brought me cupcakes.”
“That’s right.”
“But you won’t do it again, will you?”
“No.” My tongue darted out to try to reach his lips. He laughed and pulled me from the chair onto his lap. “Do you want to kiss me?”
“Yes,” I breathed. His mouth came down over mine, hard and fierce and possessive as his hands moved over my back. I loved it when he held me like that, like I was his, like he would never let me go. I could imagine how we looked, me on his lap with my hands on either side of his face, his lips biting mine. Tendrils of desire curled through me.
Maybe it was the stress of almost losing him that did it, but I felt bold, wanton.
I pushed him so he was lying on my bed and was thrilled by the expression of surprise mingled with pleasure on his face.
I’d read in one of Kate’s mother’s Elle magazines that you can train your man to do things he doesn’t want to do if you combine telling him about them with pleasurable sensations. I straddled him. “We’re too good together to fight, right?”
“Right,” he answered, gazing up at me, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“But you understand that I have responsibilities to my friends.” I tugged suggestively at the bottom of my T-shirt like I was going to start a striptease. I knew he loved seeing me in my bra, so I stopped just above my belly button. “Right?”
He gulped. “Right.”
I pulled my T-shirt over my head. “Especially Langley, who has no other family and needs her friends. You know that it’s not a question of me picking her over you.” I’d never been so forward before, but judging from the way his breathing got short, he liked it. His reaction spurred me on. I moved the fingers of one of my hands slowly up the thigh of his jeans and leaned my mouth to his ear to whisper, “It’s a question of being a good friend.” My fingers reached his belt. “Right?”
He moaned. “
Jesus.”
My hand hovered over his guitar-shaped belt buckle. “Say it.”
“Yes. Right.”
I shimmied him out of his jeans. There was a streak of frosting on his upper thigh, just under his boxers. It must have fallen there when he was eating the cupcakes, I thought, glad to have the chance to lick some frosting off him after all.
Later we lay with our legs tangled together, in our underwear, looking up at the ceiling. I could picture us, me in my boy-cut white-and-black-polka-dot panties and white kneesocks, him in his lightning-bolt boxers, my head on his shoulder, the fingers of my hand tracing the strong drummer muscles of his forearm.
“That was amazing,” I said.
“Mmm-hmm,” he agreed sleepily.
“You know I love you, David,” I said.
“Yeah, I know, lover lips.”
I went on one elbow. “I do.”
He tucked my long dark hair behind my ear. “Yeah. It’s just that I don’t want to be made a fool of, you know. I trusted you with everything. You’re not playing me, are you? Doing other guys behind my back?”
That’s what all his possessiveness was about. My heart nearly broke for him as I understood it wasn’t anything I did, it was because of what had happened with Nicky. That’s why he was so sensitive. “Of course not,” I said. “I’d never hurt you.”
That night he had rubbed his nose against mine and said, “Maybe you can have another chance.”
Now, in my hospital room, sitting stiffly beside me, he said, “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”
I felt panic rising in my throat. “Why did you say that? Why shouldn’t you have given me another chance?”
“You want to know what happened the night of the party so badly? Fine, here’s what happened: I was sitting there waiting for you and your ‘surprise’ like some kind of well-trained puppy, while you were supposed to be off saving the world or your friends or whatever. I trusted you. I believed you. I believed in us. And then Elsa came to have a little talk with me.”
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