by Lizzy Mason
He looked down, away from my face, and picked at his nails. “I can see how getting my heart broken would be bad, and tough to deal with. But I don’t think staying away from you, being miserable and alone, is good for my sobriety,” he said.
I reached for his hand and took it in mine. “I’m not criticizing you, Raf. I just don’t want you to be with me if it’s going to be bad for you . . .” I let my voice trail off because I didn’t really want him to agree with me.
“I know,” he murmured. “What both my therapist and Elaine have said is that I have to create a life that doesn’t include drinking or my old friends. That that’s the only way to stay sober. To build a network and a support system, and to create a life that’s better than the life I had when I was using. And I’m one hundred percent sure that life includes you.”
I could feel my face flush. “I’m glad,” I said. “I want to be a part of your life.”
We sat quietly, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
“You know, aside from Dr. Manhattan, none of the Watchmen had superpowers,” I said. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He wore a curious smile. “They’re just regular people who decided to be superheroes.”
“And?”
“And it seems like an apt metaphor for sobriety. People find strength and confidence to do all kinds of extraordinary things every day. And getting sober takes remarkable strength. You don’t have to have superpowers. You just have to believe in yourself. And assemble your team.”
His smile widened. “So you’re part of my superhero team?”
“I’m definitely on Team Raf,” I said. “I know our timing sucks, but I don’t want to wait for it to be better.”
Raf squeezed my hand. “Right now, I don’t want to be anywhere except here, with you.”
“Me too,” I said, leaning into his side.
“Actually, I’d rather be inside, in bed,” he said. I turned to look up at him. He was blushing again. “I mean, with you, but also because I didn’t sleep last night.”
“Oh, right,” I said, gesturing to the comic I still held in my free hand. “What inspired you to do this last night? I wasn’t asking you to illustrate it. You didn’t have to do anything except text me back and I would have come running.”
Raf shook his head. “Don’t you get it?” he said with a note of exasperation in his voice. “You’re worth more than a text. One declaration of love deserves something equally heartfelt in return.”
I got it now. His gesture was small. Less expensive than Mike’s gestures were. Less embarrassing. More Harley-sized. Because he knew me. He knew when to push me and when to leave me be, even if he couldn’t do it for himself. But I could do it for him. We could push each other to be better.
“How did it feel to write again?” he said with a small, knowing smile.
I rolled my eyes. “Are you just trying to get me to tell you that you were right?”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I was, wasn’t I? You liked it?”
“Fine, yes,” I said with a sigh. “You were right, okay?”
His face brightened. “I love hearing you say that.”
I scooted closer to him, until we were inches apart, and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his chin. And then his cheek, and right next to his mouth. “You. Were. Right,” I said to punctuate each kiss.
And when he turned, ravenously covering my lips with his, I responded with equal hunger.
Later, I tried my hardest not to feel embarrassed or awkward as I lay next to him. I didn’t try to cover myself up, to shield my stomach with my arms or put my shirt on. I left the lights on and tried to enjoy the appreciative look in his eyes when he looked at me. And I looked at him, at his perfections and imperfections both, and I loved every inch.
Raf fell asleep pretty quickly. I couldn’t blame him. And yet despite my late-night and early-morning activities, I was too keyed up to sleep. I smoothed the hair from Raf’s forehead and kissed him softly as I decided to head home, but I realized I was trapped against the wall and would have to climb over him to get out.
“Hey, Raf,” I whispered. I poked him softly in the ribs. “I need to get up. Wake up.”
He groaned and turned on his side, facing away from me like a petulant kid who doesn’t want to go to school. I curled against his back, big spoon to his little, and kissed his neck. I ran my hand down his stomach, and by the time I reached his pelvic bone, he was awake again.
“What are you doing?” he asked. He was suddenly very still as I let my hand rest on his hip.
“I needed you to wake up,” I said. I used his body to pull myself up and over him to the other side of the bed. But he caught me around the waist before I could stand up and held me against his chest.
“Don’t go,” he said, his breath soft on my ear. I melted into him, letting his lips on my shoulder hold me like a magnet.
“Okay,” I said. I settled against his side, tucked under his arm. “Hey, I thought of a new name for you to write. Super-Raf. But you can write it like Super-AF.”
His laugh rumbled through his chest. “That’s ridiculous,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “Maybe you can write the comics, but leave the naming of characters to someone else.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Okay, I’ll keep working on it.”
I smiled against his chest as I listened to his breathing deepen. And this time when he fell asleep, I was on the edge of the bed and was able to get dressed and escape out the door without waking him. I left a quick note on his bedside table (You don’t snore. Bonus points! Love, H) and closed the door softly behind me. I headed toward my house, deciding to take my good mood to the people. I’d been such a massive downer for the last few months, since long before the accident, and I figured the best way to remove some of that guilt and redeem myself was through food.
My first destination was Cassidy’s house, but I stopped by The Flakey Pastry on my way. Samir and Will were working behind the counter, and I had to wait for them to stop bickering before I could order.
“Relationships are a marathon, not a sprint,” Samir was saying. “You must be good to Cassidy and make an honest woman out of her.”
Will’s face went red. “Samir, man, I’m nineteen. I’m not ready to get married.”
Samir shook his head sadly. “You can’t keep dating forever,” he said. “Before long, you’ll be an old man like me.”
I laughed, because Samir was only in his forties, and they both turned to look at me. Will’s face went even redder.
“Don’t worry, Will,” I said. “I don’t think Cassidy’s got the marriage itch yet, either.”
He nodded and gave me a small wave before making an excuse and ducking into the break room.
I ordered two iced coffees and a few pastries from Samir, who seemed to have warmed up to me and accepted that I was a decent barista. That didn’t mean he let me have them for free, though. I got a 20 percent discount and any leftover pastries at the end of the night when I was working. It was better than nothing.
As I was backing out the door with my mind focused on not spilling the coffees, the door suddenly swung open and I nearly fell over. Strong hands on my back kept me upright and I turned to see who they belonged to.
“Oh, hi!” I said to Ryan. He released me, and I set the coffees down on the wrought-iron table next to the door.
“Hey!” he said. “I was hoping you were working today. I guess not, huh?”
“No, not until this afternoon. I just came by for some discounted caffeine.”
Ryan gestured to the guy who was standing behind him. “Do you know Jason?”
I tried not to look guilty as I waved at Jason Raymond, my sister’s freshman-year crush.
“Not really, no, but Audrey’s always said good things about you,” I told him.
Jason blushed. “How is she?�
� he asked.
“She’s better,” I said. “Her memory of the last year is still spotty and she may never remember the accident, but she’s getting stronger and she’s talking pretty well now. She’s surprising us all by how quickly she’s improving.”
In the summer light, Jason looked younger than his seventeen years. I could see what Audrey saw in him. He was pretty cute. And I could read in his eyes the concern he had for her. I suddenly regretted getting between them.
“She should be coming home in a couple of weeks,” I said. “You guys should stop by to see her.”
Jason’s face lit up. “We will,” he said.
Ryan looked at him and then back at me, a question clearly sitting on his lips, but he just raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged.
“Go ahead in,” Ryan said to Jason. “I’ll be right there.”
Once Jason was gone, Ryan sat at the table and I sat next to him.
“I thought you didn’t want Audrey to go out with him,” he said. He and Jason were on the same Ultimate Frisbee team, so he’d been my main source of information when Jason and Audrey were flirting. He’d chastised me, saying that Jason wasn’t actually stupid; he just had ADHD and learning disabilities. But I’d thought Audrey deserved someone better, smarter, who her friends wouldn’t make fun of.
I was wrong. What I’d been telling her, I realized, was that she wasn’t good enough. She and Jason shared those difficulties, so every time I implied he was stupid it also meant so was she.
So even though I felt like crying, I shrugged. “I’ve changed my mind. If Jason will make her happy, then I want them to have a chance. Without my interference.”
Ryan smiled. “I’m glad you’re still willing to do something nice for Audrey. I was worried about how things would be between you guys now.”
I tried to keep my tone light when I said, “Ry, how much did you know? About Mike’s . . . dalliances?”
His dark complexion hid any blush, but he looked away and I had my answer.
“Did you know about Audrey, too?”
Ryan nodded. “Yeah, he told me. After the accident.”
“Do you . . . um, do you think he planned to hook up with her?” I said quietly.
He shook his head vigorously. “No! He never would have planned that. He just liked the attention she gave him. The more girls wanted him, the more he liked himself.”
I knew that, but the rationale didn’t make me feel better.
“After he cheated on you with Sofia, I told him you deserved better,” Ryan said. “And even though he knew that—he really did—he just wasn’t good enough for you. He was never going to be good enough for you.”
I reached out to Ryan and wrapped my arms around him. He stiffened with surprise. We weren’t the type of friends who hugged.
“Thank you,” I said. I meant it. He said all the things I needed to hear, even though none of them changed anything.
“So, did you go to the party?” I asked as I pulled away from him.
Ryan’s expression hardened. “Yes,” he said. “Mike was wasted.”
I shook my head. “How?”
“Does it matter?” he asked. “His mom was so mad. But she won’t do anything about it. She never has. I think his being in rehab was harder on her than on him.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. But remember, Ry, he’s not your responsibility.”
He tilted his head. “I like this new version of you,” he said.
“Me too,” I said. I couldn’t help smiling. “It was good to see you. Let’s hang out soon.”
Ryan stood and I followed suit. “It was good to see you, too,” he said. “I’ll come by with Jason when Audrey’s home, but call me before then. Connie misses you, too.”
Connie and I were friends mainly due to proximity, like Ryan and I had been, but I liked her. She was the editor of the literary magazine and had bugged me to join last year. Maybe this year I finally would. Mom would love that. Cassidy and Raf, too.
I said goodbye to Ryan and headed for my car, but I was distracted by a text from Raf.
So . . . does this mean I can change my relationship status on Facebook? he wrote. My lips tilted into a smile as my stomach announced its approval by doing a backflip. I bet he wasn’t even on Facebook, but I liked that what he was really asking was, “Can I call you my girlfriend?”
Let me at least tell my mom first, I wrote back. She’ll want to friend you.
Nice, he answered. Moms love me. I post a lot of inspirational cat memes.
Armed with coffee and chocolate croissants, I drove to Cassidy’s with a smile on my face. She was outside before I’d even opened my car door. She wasn’t wearing shoes, but she got in the car anyway, pushing her curly hair out of her face.
“I have to stay in here until I’m calm,” she said, “or I’ll be going to jail for murder. You might want to lock the doors.”
“Nuisance?” I asked.
“Nuisance,” she confirmed. “She’s just begging to be killed, slowly and deliberately.” Only her sister could turn Cassidy into a murderer.
I pointed at her coffee and handed her a croissant.
“I think I’ll just drive you around the block until you’re caffeinated and full of flakey pastry. Get some distance between you and Morgan.”
She smiled grimly. “Good idea.” Then she tapped her plastic cup against mine. “Cheers, to sisters who make them hard to love and who we are saints to put up with.”
“Cheers,” I echoed, thinking how lucky I was to have Audrey instead of Morgan as my sister. All Audrey seemed to want was to spend more time with me, not deliberately hurt me. Even cheating with Mike was a cry for my attention.
I was no saint. I never would be. But I could try to be my best self. I would do the work.
Three Months Ago
The sun was high in the clear sky, baking the tops of my thighs to a raw chicken pink, while a cool breeze lifted the hair from my neck. It was an unsettling combination of warm and cool as I sat on the hot wooden planks of the pier with my toes skimming the chilly Chesapeake Bay.
It was April, the week of spring break, and Mike and his friends were swimming despite the frigidity of the water. And, being typical boys, they were splashing and yelling, and threatening to pull us girls into the water.
I sat with the rest of the girls who had been invited: a couple who were girlfriends of Mike’s friends, like me, and a couple who were just friends. I was reading the most recent issue of a comic, and though the other girls would sometimes try to include me in their conversation, which was generous of them, I just didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t that I had little interest in discussing their friends’ problems or what they were planning to wear to dinner that night. (It hadn’t even occurred to me that I would need to bring multiple outfits; I had brought exactly enough clothes for the two days we were staying at Ryan’s family’s cabin.) It was more that I couldn’t figure out a response that didn’t make it obvious that I had no idea what I was talking about and that I was more interested in reading. So I just read instead. It got the message across, maybe more blatantly than I had intended.
I stood, having decided to go back up to the house and read on the porch in the shade, but Mike grabbed my ankle harder than I think he meant to, and I lost my balance. I slid into the freezing water, clothes and all. When I came up sputtering for air, I could see on his face that he was worried, that he had been drinking, and that he was sorry.
“Come on, Michael,” I whined, shoving him.
Some people might have been pissed about their clothes or their hair getting wet. I was pissed about my book, which was now floating soggily along the top of the water. Ryan fished it out and tossed it back onto the dock, where it landed with a wet thwack next to Connie. He flashed a mischievous smile at her and grabbed her by the ankle. Connie’s grin told me she
knew what was coming as he pulled her off the dock.
Around us, the rest of the girls screamed as they splashed into the water.
Mike put his arms around my waist and pulled me toward his bare chest. I pushed back against him briefly, but he held strong. And he was warm, despite being in the water, so I let him hold me, slipping my arms up around his neck. He kissed me with wet lips and the guys in the water around us whooped.
“Sorry, baby,” he said. “I didn’t mean to ruin your book; I just wanted you to stay here with me.”
I tried not to roll my eyes and failed. “Then next time, use your words,” I said. “You’re officially the worst, and you owe me a new copy of Squirrel Girl.”
My instinct told me to get out of the water and run back to the house to get out of the now see-through white shirt I was wearing. But Mike kissed me again, deeper this time, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, enjoying the moment. Around us, his friends splashed one another and played chicken, trying to knock the girls off the guys’ shoulders. I declined their invitation to play, but I stayed in the water until my teeth were chattering.
When I finally climbed back up onto the dock, the rest of the girls followed me, heading to the house to change. And suddenly I understood how they all knew to bring extra clothes.
That night, we were all in the living room of the cabin while a fire roared in the fireplace. Most of us were drinking, including me, and since no one had to be worried about going home to their parents or driving anywhere, everyone was drunker than I’d ever seen them. The night had descended into a contest between some of the guys as they tried to outdrink one another. Mike, unfortunately, was one of them.
As we got older, alcohol became increasingly available at parties. And when it did, at first, it was special, and we were secretive about it. As the availability increased, so did the number of embarrassing incidents involving Mike. But this was only the second time I’d seen him truly blackout drunk.
Six shots and three beers in, when his eyes lost focus, I decided it was time for me to go to bed. I stood, but Mike reached for me. As I skirted his outstretched fingers, he grabbed the hem of my shirt, stretching it. I twisted away futilely until my shirt had risen farther up my stomach than I was comfortable with. I pushed at his hands, but Mike slid them up my bare skin instead, squeezing my breasts while his friends laughed.