One Week Girlfriend

by Monica Murphy

  Minutes later Fable’s in my room, hastily dressed, her jeans still unsnapped, her shirt thrown on haphazardly. She straightens it out around her slim shoulders, offering tantalizing glimpses of her skin and I’m momentarily distracted.

  But I realize her probing gaze is locked on me and she’s not going to let me escape. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I’m just…ready to go.” That’s a good enough answer. It has to be.

  “Something happened back there. I want to know what.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, something I haven’t seen her do in days, and I realize it’s a defensive gesture. She’s trying to be tough, showing that she won’t back down.

  Well, I’m not backing down either. We can’t have this conversation here. Now. “Let it go, Fable. Seriously.”

  “No.” She steps forward and shoves me right in the chest with both hands. “I’m tired of pretending there’s nothing wrong. I’m sick of you blowing up and freaking out and then telling me you’re fine. I know you’re still grieving for your sister. I know you feel guilty over her death, and I get that. But there’s more going on here. Something else happened that you’re not telling me. And I really need you to tell me, Drew.”

  I slowly shake my head, the air leaving my lungs all at once. “I—I can’t.”

  “You have to.” She reaches out to shove me again and I grab her wrists, stopping her. “I need to know. How else can I help you get past this?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.” I let go of her and turn to my bag that’s sitting on the bed but she grabs my arm, jerking me around so I’m facing her once more.

  “Don’t shut me out. I’m here for you. After everything we’ve been through, after what we’ve just shared.” She sighs and closes her eyes for the briefest moment, as if she’s completely overcome. “I’ve bared my body and my soul to you, and I have never, ever done that for anyone before. So please, I’m begging you. Tell me what the hell happened!”

  I stare at her, desperate to confess. Scared of her reaction. I part my lips, but the words won’t come. It’s like the world is sitting on my chest, crushing my heart and turning it to dust.

  “Can I guess?” Her voice is so soft, I lean in to hear her. “I…I have my suspicions. Can I ask you questions and you answer me yes or no?”

  What she suggests is the coward’s way out. And considering I’m pretty much a coward at this very moment, it’s the only way out for me.

  So I nod.

  Breathing deep, she takes a step back, leaning against the dresser behind her. “Whatever happened to you in your past, happened here, didn’t it? Not in the guesthouse but here, at this house. Not at school, not anywhere else, right?”

  I swallow hard and nod once.

  “Okay.” She presses her lips together, her eyes clouded with what looks like worry. “I think…it has to do with Adele, doesn’t it?”

  I’m silent. Paralyzed. I want to say yes. I want to run. She’s so close. So close to figuring it out and then I realize she probably already has figured it out, and I’m so full of shame, I want to throw up.

  “Yeah,” I say on a ragged breath, rubbing the back of my hand across my mouth. I swear I’m going to puke.

  Fear is in her eyes as she looks at me. Sympathy and worry and tears I don’t want her to shed for me. “She—she molested you, didn’t she?”

  I shake my head, shocked at her choice of words. “She didn’t molest me. I knew exactly what I was doing with her.”

  Fable’s mouth drops open. “What?”

  “We were having an affair. That’s it. No molestation, no her touching me when I was a little kid. She went after me, seduced me, I fell for her, and we had an affair for years.” I spit the last words out, so disgusted with myself I can hardly see straight. “There Fable. There’s your answer. Now that you have it, what do you think? I’m disgusting, right? Sneaking around with my stepmom, having her slip inside my room in the middle of the night. Fucking her furiously again and again. She always knew how to get me hard and I couldn’t stand how easily she had control over me.” I’m shaking, my breath is stuttering in my lungs and my teeth are chattering. I can’t fucking believe I just said all that. I told her everything. Everything.

  Fable just stands there gaping at me, her eyes still flooded with tears. “How—how old were you when this first started?”

  “Almost fifteen.” Horny as fuck, too. Adele knew it. She was beautiful, mysterious. She flattered me, flirted with me and I responded. She’s only eleven years older than me, she’d tell me we had more in common than she and my dad did, and then the next thing I knew, she was sneaking into my room in the middle of the night, touching me. Going down on me, making me come so hard, I thought I would black out.

  I was young, full of hormones and eager to fuck. Constantly. And despite the shame and the hatred I had for myself and for her, I secretly wanted her to get me off. Sought out her attention because for a brief moment, I felt wanted, desired, loved.

  And after, when she’d leave me alone in my room, I was ashamed. Disgusted. Full of hate for her and for myself. For my dad, who was completely blind to it all. For my mom, who died when I was young and wasn’t there to protect me.

  “You were a child and she took advantage of you, Drew. That’s not an affair between two consenting adults, that’s your stepmom molesting you.” Her voice is shaking, her entire body shakes, much like mine, and then she does the craziest thing.

  She runs to me and grabs hold of me so tight, like she’s never going to let me go. She’s crying, sobbing into my shirt and I slowly slip my arms around her and hold her close. I have no tears, there’s no sadness welling up inside me. I’m emotionless. Blank. I think I might be in shock.

  I just confessed my darkest, dirtiest secret and Fable didn’t run. She didn’t laugh, she didn’t mock me, she didn’t point any accusatory fingers.

  For once in my life, I feel like I’ve finally found someone who understands.

  Fable

  I knew it. As much as I didn’t want to face it, I knew the problem stemmed from Adele. As the week wore on, more and more clues were revealed, and my suspicions grew.

  And now they’ve been confirmed.

  Hatred fills me, so overwhelmingly strong I’m dizzy with it. I hate that woman for what she’s done to Drew. How she continues to torture him. She’s disgusting. She’s a fucking child molester who should be in jail, for the love of God, how she took advantage of Drew.

  I hate her with everything inside of me.

  “We need to go,” I say against his chest, my voice muffled. I pull away so I can look up at him, notice that his face is completely devoid of emotion. He’s in shutdown mode and I can’t chastise him since he’s most likely using it as a coping mechanism.

  The minute we get back home, I’m telling him he needs to go to a professional therapist. Get what happened to him out of his mind once and for all. Not that he can ever let his past experiences go for good, but he can at least talk to someone. Seek help so he can better cope with everything.

  “Drew.” I shake his arms and his eyes focus on me once more. “We need to leave. Now.”

  “You’re right. Let’s go.”

  I run to my room and toss everything in my bag, then zip it up. I grab my purse, my sweatshirt I’m going to wear and glance around the room, making sure I haven’t left anything.

  Really wouldn’t matter if I did. I so want out of here, I don’t even care.

  I wait for Drew in the living room, keeping watch out the window, my gaze zeroed in on the main house. They haven’t left yet for whatever they planned to do to mourn Vanessa’s death. I see the Range Rover parked out in the drive, as if Drew’s dad pulled it out earlier in preparation. At least it’s not blocking Drew’s truck.

  Thank God.

  “Do you want to say goodbye to your dad?” I ask when he comes into the living area, his bag slung over his shoulder, his expression still somewhat blank.

  He slowly shakes
his head. “I’ll text him. Have they left yet?”

  “No.” The panic is blatant in my voice and I clear my throat, irritated with myself. “Drew, I don’t think it’s a good idea if we go over there…”

  “I don’t either,” he interrupts.

  Relief sweeps through me and we head out to his truck with hurried steps, my movements downright frantic as I toss my bag into the narrow back seat of his extended cab. He climbs into the truck the same time I do and we slam our doors in unison, Drew jabbing the key into the ignition.

  We’re so close to being out of here, I can almost taste it. I’ve never been so happy to leave a place as I am at this very moment.

  “Andrew!”

  I jerk my head to the left, watch in disbelief as Adele runs toward the truck, stopping at the driver’s side door. She’s smacking the glass with her fist, yelling for him to roll down the window and he stares at her, his hand on the gear shift, ready to put the truck in reverse.

  “Don’t do it,” I murmur. “Don’t open the window. She doesn’t deserve your attention anymore, Drew.”

  “What if she tells my dad?” His voice is small, he sounds like a little boy and my heart breaks for him. His pain has become mine.

  “Who cares? You’re not wrong in this situation. She is.”

  Keeping his head bent, he reaches out and hits the button so the window slowly rolls down. “What do you want?” he asks her coldly.

  “Just…please come with us. I want you there, Andrew.” She flicks her cold, hard gaze at me briefly and I stare back. Just as cold, just as hard.

  I want to tear her apart I hate her so much.

  “I already visited her grave yesterday. I paid my sister my respect. What more do you want from me?” His voice is like ice, his glare just as frosty as he turns it on her and it’s like she’s completely oblivious.

  “There’s so much more you don’t know and I—I need to tell you. Privately. It’s important, Andrew. Please.”

  “Stop calling him that.” I can’t help it, I have to make her stop. I can’t stand the way she says his full name.

  “It’s his name.” Her voice is flat. “And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

  “Don’t talk to her like that.” His low voice is a warning, but still doesn’t seem to affect Adele.

  “She’s nothing, Andrew. Worthless. Why do you spend time with her? Is she good in bed? Does she spread her legs for you constantly and that’s why you keep her around?” Adele sounds downright manic. I refuse to let her insults affect me whatsoever.

  She’s so beneath me for what she’s done to Drew, she deserves to rot in hell.

  “At least I’m not some child molesting piece of shit,” I mutter under my breath.

  The gasp I hear come from Adele clearly indicates I didn’t mutter low enough. “What did you say, you little bitch?”

  Holy shit, I’ve stepped in it now.

  “She knows, Adele,” Drew interjects harshly. “She knows everything.”

  The heavy silence that settles over the three of us is almost painful. I can’t look at her. I keep my focus on my trembling knees, trying my best to keep my breathing even and controlled. I glance at Drew out of the corner of my eye, see the tick in his jaw, the way he’s gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles are white.

  “Well.” Her voice squeaks and she gives a little cough. “So. You told her everything, hmm? She knows about our little affair?”

  “Molesting a fifteen year old boy is a far cry from having an affair.” I clamp my lips shut and close my eyes. My mom always said my big mouth would get me in trouble.

  I guess she’s right.

  “Fine, you want her to know everything, then I’ll go ahead and tell you what I wanted to say in private in front of your big mouthed whore instead.” Her voice is sweetness and light, so unnerving I can’t help but lift my head and look at her.

  I don’t like what I see. There’s a murderous glow in her eyes and her mouth is curved upward in a crazed smile. She’s clearly on the verge of losing it.

  “We should go,” I whisper to Drew and without a word he starts the engine.

  “Don’t you want to hear what I have to tell you?” she asks in her creepy sing-song voice.

  “Not really.” He keeps his gaze trained on the steering wheel.

  “That’s too bad. Because it’s about Vanessa.”

  He turns to look at her, as do I. “What about her?”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you this for what feels like forever, the timing was just never right. But you need to know. I’ve always felt it was the truth…I wasn’t sure. I know it now though. Without a doubt, I know.”

  “Spit it out, Adele.”

  My stomach is churning as I wait. Fear makes my palms clammy and I clutch at my knees, scared out of my mind at what she’s about to say.

  “Vanessa’s not your sister, Andrew.” Adele pauses, the smile she shoots my direction devastating. “She was your daughter.”

  ~* Chapter Thirteen *~

  Day 7 (Departure), 11:30 a.m.

  Where there is love, there is pain. – Spanish Proverb

  Fable

  Almost two hours later, and I still don’t know what to say.

  I’m in a perpetual state of shock over Adele’s devastating confession. I’m not the one who’s most traumatically affected by it either. I’m scared to death by the way Drew’s taking it. Which is, zero reaction whatsoever.

  He’s cold as ice. Expressionless. Emotionless. Void of anything and everything.

  I’ve spent six full days and nights with him. I’ve seen him at his lowest and highest points. His most angry and his most caring, yet I’ve never seen him act like this. I don’t know what to do for him. And he won’t talk to me.

  It ends up being the longest, quietest four plus hours of my life. Traffic was brutal. The weather shitty, with constant rain and slick roads, making it nearly impossible for him to see through the windshield, the rain fell so heavily.

  He flicked on the radio at the very start of our journey, a clear indicator he didn’t want to talk, so I didn’t press. But I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. There were so many questions and I had no answers.

  Was Adele telling the truth? Had Vanessa really been Drew’s daughter? Did his father—her husband—have any sort of clue? Had he been aware of their affair? Exactly how long had it gone on anyway?

  From my calculations, she’d done this to him for a long time. At least four years. In the bits that he told me about the day Vanessa died, I have a feeling Adele dragged him into the house and had her way with him. So while they were fucking, Vanessa drowned.

  Brutal but the truth, I can feel it. Hence that extra heaping dose of guilt he piles on himself.

  I’m not angry at him though, and I can’t hate him for what happened. It’s not his fault, no matter how much he thinks it is. She trapped him into this crazy, sick relationship, and he didn’t know how to get out of it. He was a child when she started playing her twisted game.

  It’s a wonder he was able to be with me at all last night.

  I slept fitfully the last hour or so of the drive, waking up with a jolt when the truck comes to a complete stop and he shuts off the engine. I lift my head and peer out the window, discovering we’re in the parking lot of my apartment complex.

  Yay. I’m home.

  “We’re here,” he says, his deep voice deathly quiet. “Need help with your bag?”

  I stare at him in disbelief. “Is this really how we’re going to end it?”

  His gaze meets mine and it’s full of so much pain, I almost look away. But I refuse. He’s not going to win. I refuse to let him drive me away. “You heard what she said, Fable. No way do I expect you to stick around for that.”

  “You really think that less of me? Really?” God, he infuriates me. I want to smack him and hug him, all at once. “Fine.”

  I reach behind me and grab my duffel bag then throw open the door, climbing out of the tr
uck so quickly, I almost fall on my ass.

  “Fable.”

  The sound of my name makes me pause, my fingers gripping the edge of the truck door that I was so eager to slam only a second ago. “What?”

  “I—I need to process. I need to figure this all out.” His eyes implore me to understand. “I need time.”

  Shaking my head, my chin trembles and I push past it. I refuse to cry in front of him. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t push me away, Drew.”

  He inhales deep and looks away from me. That tick is still in his jaw and his expression is so tight, I’m afraid he might shatter. “I don’t know how to handle everything with someone else’s help. I’m used to coping on my own.”

  My heart breaks just a little more. I don’t know how it’s still intact, with everything we’ve gone through. “Come in with me. I need to check on Owen and then…then we can talk. Okay?”

  “Owen.” His gaze meets mine and he sighs. It’s like he’s forgotten everything and I brought him back to my reality. “Go to your brother. He needs you too. He’s more important right now.”

  “Drew…” Owen is important, he’ll always be important, but my worry for Drew matters far, far more. I’m afraid of what he might do if I’m not around.

  “Go, Fable. I’ll…I’ll call you.”

  “No, you won’t.” Anger fills me and I slam the truck door hard, disappointed at how unsatisfied that still leaves me.

  I head toward my apartment building, my shoulders hunched against the light smattering of rain that falls from the dark, angry sky. I hear Drew start up the truck, hear his voice call my name from his open window but I don’t turn around.

  I don’t answer him.

  I do as he says and go to my brother instead.

  * * * *

  I stop short when I see my mom sitting on the couch, her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks blotchy. She looks like she’s been crying. Owen’s standing behind the couch, a helpless expression on his young face and his eyes fill with relief when he sees me.