Patch Up

by Stephanie Witter

  Slowly, gritting my teeth so as not to whimper, I stand up and tug at my sleeves still rolled over my forearms. I hide my fingers in them and look at my purple Converses. I was delusional to think I wasn’t the same fragile Skye. But one thing is different; I won’t cry.

  * * *

  I grit my teeth. I can’t wince even if it hurts like hell. It always hurts like hell the next morning. Fortunately, my cheek isn’t swollen, but when I touch it, it’s sensitive. I clear my throat to hide my wince when I stand up.

  “You don’t look good, Skye. Are you ill or something?” Kate’s concern for me almost brings back fresh tears to my eyes, the same ones I didn’t let fall last night.

  “I’m fine,” I reply in a clipped voice before I tug self-consciously on my long sleeves, afraid she could see a bruise or something. “I’m heading to the bathroom.”

  Not waiting for her answer, I grab my toiletries and head for the bathrooms. It’s like I’m suffocating in our room. I can’t take her concern or her probing eyes. In the hallway, I sigh deeply. I lean against the wall and close my eyes, enjoying the quiet of the building. It’s too early for most of the students who prefer late classes instead of the early morning ones.

  With my eyes closed, I hear footsteps climbing the stairs and coming my way. With a start, I open my eyes and face the person coming. I can’t stay just like this, risking any surprises. I know it can’t be Sean—it’s too early for him—but my aching body shudders nevertheless.

  “Duke?” I say with disbelief before tugging more vigorously on my sleeves. I can’t face him, not after last night with Sean. I’m sure he’ll see through me. He’ll know. My eyes dart between the bathrooms at the end of the hallway and the door of my room a few feet from me.

  “You won’t escape me this time,” he says with determination, his dark brown eyes burning into my face.

  I freeze and cross my arms tightly over my chest, ignoring the raging pain this simple move causes me. He frowns more deeply and cocks his head on one side. “I don’t see what more we have to say.” My voice shakes and I feel myself blushing from shame. It’s like I’m back to the first time I met him when I was hiding my secrets.

  “What happened?” he takes a step closer to me but I recoil against the wall before I can catch myself. The color drains from his face and his full, well-defined lips stretch into a straight line.

  “Nothing. Just leave, please,” I say in a plea, unable to put on a front with him. He knows who Sean really is and maybe that’s why I can’t act like everything is fine, like I do with Kate, but I can’t take the look in his eyes.

  He doesn’t try to touch me, but his eyes roam over me from top to bottom, searching for something, some answer I don’t want to give. “Skye, tell me.” His deep voice shakes too and I break down.

  The first sob shakes me so violently I whimper. This time he doesn’t hesitate. He puts his big hands on my shoulders but I wince. It’s exactly where Sean put his hands yesterday, and even if Duke’s touch is feather-like in comparison, my bruises are too fresh.

  “God, no. Don’t tell me he ...” he says in a growl, not finishing his sentence. “I need to know, Skye. Talk to me.”

  I dry my face and bring my eyes up to his soft ones. I could lose myself in them, lose the edge that tackles me, but my emotions are too all over the place to really let him soften me. Not again. “Why? So you can run away and be a jerk again? You think I don’t have enough going on?” My voice is hard, harsher than I thought it could be considering I feel so lost and broken.

  “It’s important, Skye. Did Sean come here?” He tugs on his hair so hard that it must be painful.

  I take a deep breath, in the hope I can find some kind of calm or distance from all of this. Why is Duke here asking me questions I don’t want to answer? It’s not like we’re anything to each other.

  “I really don’t want to talk to you, Duke,” I reply in a cold voice, not shaking this time. Now that the surprise at his presence here is wearing off, I put my game face back on.

  “Don’t shut me out. Tell me if he came here and did something to you,” he presses me, his hands in his pockets. His eyes are so expressive that I know he already knows the answer but wants to hear it from me. He’s angry even if he’s trying to hide it.

  “Go to hell,” I say under my breath, but my words ring between us in the silent hallway.

  He takes a step away like I slapped him. He shakes his head and looks briefly at the ceiling where the florescent lights are buzzing. “And I thought that you didn’t want to be the same girl that you used to be with him. Guess I was wrong.”

  I know what he’s doing and it’s working. Rage is pushing away the pain I feel—both the physical and mental pain—and I lock my eyes back with his. Despite the fact I know he’s trying to manipulate me, I can’t help myself, I want to prove him wrong. I’m not the same Skye, not entirely at least. “Sean came in the laundry room yesterday evening when I was alone there.”

  Duke nods and swallows soundly. He’s not feeling that good about all this and somehow, even if it’s really fucked up, it warms me. He clears his throat. “Did he ... do something to you?”

  I snort. “Do you want a play by play?”

  He runs a hand over his perfect goatee and mumbles something to himself that I don’t catch. “Don’t play this game, Skye.”

  But it’s not a game. It’s all too true, all too familiar. Living it once is already awful, but talking about it and describing it to him would be as horrible for me. Yet, I know he won’t leave me alone until I spill the details of what happened. I sigh, going for nonchalance even if it’s not at all what I’m feeling. My heart is hammering in my chest. “I have bruises on my shoulders, arms, and legs. Nothing too big, though.”

  He groans, it comes from deep inside of him and his eyes narrow. “Nothing too big? Nothing too big!” He moves away and puts both hands palms down against the wall and inhales deeply. “He hit you.” His voice is hesitant, almost pleading with me to contradict him, but I can’t. I don’t want to lie to him, even if I want him as far away from this part of my life as possible.

  I tug on my sleeves—again—and nod. It’s not like there’s anything more to say. It just happened. Again. I shiver and look at the bathroom door for the fourth time. I need him to leave before I let myself be drawn to him.

  “Did you say anything to your roommate?”

  “Of course not!” I wave toward the stairs. “You should go, now that your curiosity is satisfied.”

  “You think that’s why I want to know what he did to you?” At my silence he steps back toward me, leaving just inches between us. “I fucked up at the cemetery, and I know I hurt you and that you don’t want to be friends with me now, but I won’t give up. This guy needs someone to put him in his place.”

  I shudder at his words. Duke is not the violent type, not at all, but right now I’m pretty sure he’s ready to take Sean down in a heartbeat. “Please don’t go and talk to him,” I stress. My breathing falters.

  I don’t want to see him hurt. And if he beats Sean up, I’ll be the focus of his revenge and nothing will be resolved like that. My head is pounding. I’m not sure how much more of his concern I can take right now. Seeing him so worked up over what my ex did to me makes me vulnerable. I shudder.

  “You’re not going to the police to report this, and you can’t be afraid to see him anymore, so someone needs to go and talk to him. I volunteer,” he affirms. With his arms crossed over his broad chest and his dark eyes not wavering, he’s the picture of determination. I don’t know him that well, but even I realize it’s useless to try and reason with him if I don’t show how I truly feel.

  “It’s not that bad, Duke,” I say in a shaky voice. He laughs humorlessly at my poor attempt to diffuse his anger. “Really, it’s just little bruises.”

  Once again he tugs at his hair. “Don’t you see it’s wrong?” He begins to pace in front of me, his heavy boots making low noises on the bare floor. “You
’re playing down what happened like you’re not even aware of how bad this is.”

  My anger flares suddenly, making me shake. I grab his strong forearm and pull, forcing him to face me. He opens his mouth to say something but doesn’t mutter a word when he takes in my face, which I’m pretty sure is red from anger.

  “Who do you think you are?” I dig my nails in his forearm, but through the leather of his old jacket he probably doesn’t even feel it so I release my grip. “I know what it is. I know how it hurts. I know what it is like not to make a sound and just wait for the punches to stop. You’re the one who doesn’t know a thing but thinks he’s entitled to be the hero in this story. Forget about it.”

  “I can’t,” he whispers, his eyes now cast down on his feet. I must have misheard him. I grit my teeth and say nothing. I can’t move, nor can I look anywhere else. “I can’t just turn around and forget about this or you.”

  My eyes instantly fill with tears that fall on my cheeks and down my neck before they disappear into my oversized sweater. I can feel each and every one of them, dampening my face. I don’t try to hide my feelings. I have all this anger, pain, and disappointment that I feel in Duke and I’m too tired to hide behind a mask like I’m used to doing.

  “Why?” I ask in a raspy voice that makes me wince slightly.

  He takes a quick look at a door opening down the hall where a girl still half asleep walks in zombie-mode to the bathroom without even glancing our way. I’m not sure she’s even aware of her surroundings right now.

  “Because even if I want to ignore it, we connected. I pushed you away because it’s ... let’s say it’s complicated in my head right now, but I can’t imagine you not being a part of my life.”

  I dry my face and let my hair fall from the messy bun I had put it in for the night, and don’t give another thought to what it must look like. I know my untamed, frizzy hair is everywhere, but it’s no time to give a damn about how I look. “Pity doesn’t suit you.” My coldness is back and it makes me feel better, more in my comfort zone, back in control.

  “It’s not pity, Skye.” He shakes his head and sighs. I mean, he’s the one bothering me in the morning—early in the morning at that—but he’s the one sighing at me! “I can’t explain what it is!”

  The impatience in his voice startles me. I actually recoil at the sound of his voice, which is suddenly louder. He smiles ruefully at my reaction, apologizing mutely. I shrug like it means nothing, but we both know it’s not the truth. Just this tiny move shows how this new run in with Sean ruined the evolution I made. Granted it’s a slow one, but I was feeling better. And just because I wasn’t careful of my surroundings for a few minutes, he ruined everything again. Just in a few minutes. Time is a powerful thing when you think about it.

  “I wanted to help you at the cemetery.” I finally break the silence, broaching another tense subject. “I wanted to be there for you like you were for me, despite the fact that you ran away as soon as you knew about Sean.” I can’t hide the hurt still inside of me at the thought of his behavior toward me. I don’t want him to feel bad about it, not at all, but he has to understand why I want to keep him at arm’s length from now on.

  He steps toward me slowly, almost like he’s hesitating, and he brings his right hand to my face, tracing my cheek with his fingertips. I almost don’t feel it, but the tingle it leaves behind there guarantees that I know I’m not hallucinating. I tip my head up to look at his face and my breath catches in my throat. It’s too much, but I can’t explain why. It just feels too much.

  “I know,” he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down my back that doesn’t escape him, his eyes darken. “When I’m at the cemetery I’m like someone else entirely. It’s no excuse, but ...” He doesn’t finish his sentence. His gaze is looking for something on my face—understanding probably—but I keep it blank.

  “You’re not like someone else, Duke,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s still you, but without the facade you hide behind.”

  He sucks in his breath and takes a step away, giving me back my personal space. “And you know what you’re talking about, hum?”

  I swallow slowly, still unused to having someone know my secrets and talking openly about them, about me. “You could say that.”

  His eyes move over me from top to bottom and back up. I fidget, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Under his scrutiny I wonder what his eyes are seeing and what he’s thinking. He’s the first person in my life that makes me regret that reading someone else’s mind is not possible.

  “So now what?” he asks me softly.

  Now what? I don’t really know, but it seems I have to deal with him in my life one way or another. Having an ally doesn’t sound so bad, but I’m pretty sure that Duke already has the ammunition to kill what little I have left of myself. Opening up to someone is dangerous, but Duke makes it sound appealing. Also, I can’t help the little stirring I feel whenever he’s around and when he’s showing even the slightest of pain he feels.

  “If you don’t go and see Sean, we can see if this friendship can survive a little longer.”

  His well-defined lips turn down a little at Sean’s name but he nods. The weird thing is the stiffness in the move doesn’t convince me of the truth of his agreement, but I let it slip; trying this faith thing that everybody seems so prone to.

  Chapter Seven

  “I don’t understand,” Kate says with a frown as we leave Starbucks with our travel mugs of hot coffee and go back out on to the cold streets. I shiver at the difference from the heat inside. It’s still freezing out here, but it’s not icy cold anymore and the sun provides a soft glow over the city. She takes a sip of her sweet coffee and falls into step beside me. “What did he tell you this morning?”

  I take a gulp of my black coffee, ignoring the stiffness of my aching body. That’s one good thing about the cold weather; it helps with the bruises. I shrug. “Just that he apologizes about the things he said the last time I went to talk to him and that he wanted to be in my life.”

  Kate sighs appreciatively, and at first I think it’s because her hot drink is good. I soon realize that it has more to do with Duke, the hot TA as she likes to call him. I hide my smile with my travel mug.

  “How romantic is that?” Kate says, stepping closer to me when a middle-age man in a suit passes us and almost bumps into her, not even realizing it. He’s too engrossed in his phone call. She gives him a murderous glare with her soft green eyes that really aren’t that menacing.

  “Not really,” I reply with a laugh that doesn’t sound true to my ears. Just thinking there could be something romantic between Duke and I makes me feel all funny. My chest feels lighter, my heart is beating faster, and my bad mood has disappeared. Kate saw it as soon as I came back from my shower this morning. That’s how much Duke affects me.

  “Oh, open your eyes already!” Her insistence is not that funny. I tighten my grip on my mug and suppress a groan.

  “That’s rich coming from a girl who swears off relationships,” I snap, not caring how she’s going to take it. After all, it’s true. She told me once that she’s not looking for a serious relationship because she doesn’t want to settle down.

  “It’s not the same,” she counters evenly, finishing her drink and throwing the empty mug in an overflowing trashcan.

  “Why’s that?”

  She adjusts her lavender scarf and the huge black bag over her shoulder. If I’m not mistaken, she’s stalling. I finish my drink, but now I can’t find a trashcan so I keep it in my hand, irritated that I have something to hold when all I want to do is tug on both of my sleeves and hide my freezing fingers under them to escape the wind that’s now getting stronger.

  “Because I saw for years what it did to my mother.” She shrugs, dismissing the importance of what she just said, but I can see right through the facade. She’s still suffering with the alcoholism of her mother. “My father is barely home. He flirts with everything that has boobs and he’s cold
with his own family. If that’s what a relationship is like, then I’m not that eager to experience it.”

  “So why do you want me in a relationship? And I thought that you were close to your father?” I ask, a little baffled. When I think of Kate’s father, I imagine a father who’s close to his daughter, who’s proud and attentive. Not at all the picture she is now painting.

  “My father is never satisfied by what I do. He thinks I’m not smart enough, not driven enough, and all that crap. That’s why I want to work with him, to prove him wrong. I’m not going to become a trophy wife whose smiles are not genuine.” She gazes absentmindedly at an art gallery where a huge painting with splashes of red, purple, and yellow brightens the window. “But I know it’s weird to see all relationships and love like that. I don’t know, but maybe if I see you having some fun with Duke and if you come out of your shell thanks to this relationship, then I’ll finally really believe my parents are just a messed up couple and nothing else.”