My Deliberate Mistake

by Claire Svendsen

  I walk off.

  “Ana, wait.”

  He catches up and pulls on my arm. I turn to face him and he draws me in, kissing me this time like he means it. Desperate for something he knows he can't have, pressing his body against mine until I pull away.

  “If we don't stop now, it's going to be too late,” I say.

  He doesn’t say anything but the crushed look on his face makes me feel guilty for stringing him along. I walk off and leave him to follow. I wonder how long it will be before he tries again. I know he won't be able to last the whole summer. If I can’t have Mark then maybe I should just settle for Noah. After all, he’s a nice guy. Probably too nice for me. He deserves better. I know I’ll only ruin him. Julia will make sure of it.

  15.

  Drawing class is about as boring as oil painting class and so is Mrs. Brown. She keeps nervously straightening her tweed skirt and won’t make eye contact with anyone. I think she’s afraid of us. Looking around I’m not sure why. Everyone has that post lunch look in their eyes, glazed over and ready for a nap. Noah sits in the back with a bunch of the video game dudes. Mike keeps punching him playfully in the arm and laughing.

  “They are talking about you,” Julia says. “How you wouldn’t give it up. How you are a prude.”

  “He wouldn't give it up, remember?” I whisper.

  Norma looks at me and smiles. I'm pretty sure she heard me talking to myself but she doesn't seem to mind. I accept her for whoever she is and she seems to be applying the same courtesy to me. Thank God for small miracles.

  When we are finally allowed to start drawing, my mind goes blank.

  “Remember, your course work from all the classes this summer should contain one central theme,” Mrs. Brown says.

  One central theme? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I think of the canvas I painted this morning with a mess of blue and purple. I don't even know what it’s going to be yet. How can I have a theme?

  I look over at Norma's paper and see she's using a charcoal pencil to draw a Chinese woman. It's not half bad. Feminine and delicate with orchids growing behind her head, her eyes half hidden behind a bamboo fan.

  “That's good,” I whisper.

  “Thanks. So is yours.”

  “Mine? But I haven't drawn anything yet. I can't figure out my stupid theme.”

  “Yes you have,” she points. “Look. I'm guessing your theme is lakes? Or maybe people standing by lakes.” She squints at my paper. “I'm not really sure.”

  My mind is blank, my blood runs cold. I can't tear my eyes away from hers. I don’t want to look at the paper. I haven't drawn anything yet. Have I? Norma shrugs and goes back to her Chinese woman. I see Noah elbowing Mike, whispering something under his breath as they stare at me. I push the nagging thought that they are talking about me out of my head. Big Sally says I'm paranoid. Sometimes I think she doesn't know what she’s talking about. I think she just thumbs through her stupid psychiatric journal and opens a page to the diagnosis of the day. Only today she might be right. Today I do feel paranoid.

  It's no good. I have to do it. I must. I look down at the page. Shit. Norma is right. I've sketched the lake with thick black strokes of my pencil and there is a tiny figure standing beside it, no bigger than a squiggle. How could I have done that? The lake is the last thing I want to think about, the figure something my nightmares are made of. I crumple the page into a ball and throw it in the trash can.

  “No good dear?” Mrs. Brown asks.

  I shake my head, not able to form words about how very bad it is.

  “Never mind. We all have a few false starts before we find our groove.”

  Suddenly I love Mrs. Brown with her stupid old lady skirt and pearls. I send her a grateful smile and pick out another sheet of paper. This time I'll concentrate. I'll draw trees or horses, anything. But I don't. I stare at the blank page until Mrs. Brown finally calls it a day. I'd rather have nothing to show for the afternoon than that nightmare of a lake.

  By the time it’s dinner, I’m starving. I didn’t eat lunch and I’m pretty sure I dropped my muffin in the garden this morning in favor of the coffee Noah brought. As the day’s worn on I’ve felt worse and worse about how I treated him. I have to quit acting crazy and play it like a nice normal girl would.

  But as we settle at our tables, I see people are already pairing up. Natalie has her hands all over Mike, the guy I’m sure was trying to turn Noah against me. I remember those same fingers grazing Marks skin earlier and fight the urge to go over there and rip her arms out of their sockets.

  Emily is sitting far too close to Noah. She’s touching his arm, fingers rubbing against his wrist. I bet she doesn’t even really like him but it’s painfully obvious that the good looking guys are going fast. No one wants to be left with the losers to choose from or even worse, be stuck alone. Noah sends an apologetic smile in my direction and brushes her off like a bug. Her face is frozen in an open mouthed gape as he gets up and walks away. It’s priceless. I can’t help smiling as Noah brings his food over and sits at our table. The outcast table. Norma looks up from the book she’s reading long enough to nod her welcome.

  “You had company over there,” I say.

  “It’s a nightmare. What’s wrong with everyone?”

  “I have no idea.”

  But I did. Loneliness was setting in. People were missing their loved ones back home. Normal people wanted to be with someone else. Someone they could share secrets and laugh with. Someone to hold them. Pairing up was better than being left alone, at least to people who weren’t like Norma or me.

  “What are you doing tonight? I hear they are setting up a screen in the library. They’re going to show old movies and have popcorn.” He says it like it’s a casual invitation but I know it isn’t.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not really a movie person.”

  Of course that’s not true, I love movies. But Julia makes it impossible to enjoy any of them because she talks the whole time and then spoils the ending so I just gave up watching them.

  “So what then?”

  “I need to work on my theme. I didn’t get anything done on my pencil sketch today.”

  “Really? But I saw you drawing for ages.” He looks confused.

  “That was a false start.”

  “Do you want some help? I’m great with ideas.”

  “No,” I snap, sharper than I mean to.

  The last thing I need is him staring at me like a love sick puppy while I try to draw anything that is not a lake. But deep down I’m really hoping I’ll run into Mark again.

  16.

  I think maybe Noah is going to trail after me anyway. He stands there looking indecisive, probably hoping I’ll change my mind and ask him to come. Then Emily beckons to him, calling something I can’t quite make out. After one forlorn look in my direction, he wanders back to her. It’s over. I’ve lost him.

  “You didn’t really want him in the first place,” Julia says.

  For once I know she’s right. I have to find Mark.

  “Of course you do. You think you love him. But don’t you remember? He thinks you’re crazy. He only wanted to say hello and you got up and ran away like a little girl.”

  I lean against the wall, trying to think. Julia is right. How am I going to make it up to Mark? All I want to do is throw myself into his arms and never leave. Of all the people I’ve ever met, I know he’s the one who can save me from Julia. When I was with him it wasn’t just like she was silent, it was like she was actually gone.

  “You really think love can save you?” she sings in my ear. “Fat chance.”

  But I do. I really do. I’m running through the corridors looking for Mark and Julia is laughing but I’m not listening to her. I’m imagining Mark’s thumb as it grazed my lips and the way he smiled as I fell into his arms. Love will save me from this nightmare. It has to.

  But I can’t find Mark anywhere. This time the classrooms are empty, draped in darkness and illumi
nated only by the occasional flash of lightning through the windows. I snap the lights on and they flicker a few times before spluttering to life. I can’t make out the trees and what lies beyond but I know what’s out there. The lake. I know it sounds stupid to be afraid of an inanimate object. Water can’t hurt me if I don’t go in it, right? I can’t drown without at least stepping a toe in. But tell that to the stranger who pulled me out of the park pond when I was thirteen or the teacher who found me face down in the toilet when I was fourteen. Every fucking year I end up almost drowned with no recollection of how it happened. The shrinks tell me it’s a temporary dissociative state but I know it is Julia. She wants me to join her.

  “Come down to the lake,” she whispers in my ear. “I want to play with you.”

  “Shut up,” I scream, slapping hands over my ears even though it won’t help.

  “Mark’s down there waiting for you. He wants to play with you too. He wants to fuck you even more than that sad pathetic loser Noah does. He wants to push you under the green surface of the lake and slip his dick inside you as you struggle for air. He longs to come inside you as your life drains away.”

  “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

  I crouch down, huddled in a ball as though somehow that will stop her from taunting me. She started out telling me the school bus driver would run me down while I waited to go to school but now the fates she imagines for me are so much worse. I start to scream, drowning her voice with my own and I don’t stop until my throat burns and I’m gasping for air.

  She’s gone but something else has taken her place. There is a face in the darkness, hovering outside the window. My heart explodes in my chest. I scream but it just comes out like a terrified squeak and I want to run but my legs won’t move. The gaunt, sallow skin of the face stretches into a smile. Blonde hair fanned out in the breeze, tangled with strands of pondweed. Green eyes burning into my soul. Julia’s eyes. My eyes.

  17.

  I’m running through the hallways, tears streaming down my face. I don’t care where I end up. I have to get away. If I find people then I’ll be safe. I don’t look at anything except the floor in front of me. I don’t ever want to see that face again. It’s so much like mine. I don’t even want to think how it’s possible but I know that it is and for the first time since I was twelve, I do feel crazy. I want to run to the kitchen and grab a knife, stab it into my skin over and over. I want to cut the likeness out of me so I won’t ever be reminded again.

  Opening a small door I run down the spiral staircase, only to be thrust out into the night when I hit the bottom. The dark velvet night where the drowning face lurks. I slam the door shut and race back up the stairs.

  I hear voices and head towards them. Laughing and the cracked sound of an old movie playing in the distance. If I’m with people then that face can’t hurt me. I’m almost there when I barrel straight into someone. Thrown off my feet, I land hard in a crumpled mess on the floor. I’m still crying and looking at the carpet when the person I just hit crouches down to see if I’m alright. It’s Mark.

  “Ana?” he says softly. “Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head but I can’t seem to stop crying. He gently touches my face, lifting it up. There’s worry in his dark eyes where before there was only want. He uses his thumb to wipe the tears away and with it he takes all my pain.

  “You sure?”

  His hand cups my face, that simple touch sending shivers down my spine. I want to kiss him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

  “I’m sure.”

  I scramble to my feet but I’m still unsteady from the adrenaline rush. He grabs my arm to steady me and suddenly I’m folded up in them. I lean into his warmth, feel the beat of his heart through his shirt. This is the place I’ve longed to be my whole life. It feels like home.

  I look up at his face and open my mouth to tell him but before I can get the words out he’s reaching down to kiss me. His lips brush against mine, so soft and sweet. Then his hand slips into my hair and tilts my head up to his. My mouth opens, letting him inside. If he wasn’t holding onto me I’d be on the floor again. My whole body quivers with anticipation. Finally his lips pull away but I’m still holding onto him for dear life.

  “Don’t let go,” I whisper.

  “Never.”

  And with those words it’s like we give each other permission. My tears are long forgotten as he kisses me again, his breath coming hard and fast as his hand slips under my shirt and cradles my breast. We stumble back against the wall and his hands pull me into him. I wrap my legs around his waist as he lifts me up, kissing my neck in a trail of heat. I feel his hard need pressing into me and as he nips my bottom lip a moan escapes my lips. I hope he knows I need him too.

  18.

  I think we’re going to do it right there in the hall and I want him so much I don’t care. But even in my frenzied state I hear footsteps, voices. Mark hears them too. He drops me like a hot potato and covers my mouth with his hand. Then he reaches behind me for the doorknob that’s sticking into my back and opens the door, pushing me inside.

  Through the thick wood the sound travels past us. People passing, completely unaware of what they nearly saw. For a moment one of them sounds like Noah but as Mark pulls me close and unbuttons my shirt, I don’t even care.

  We’re two people desperate to be inside one another. I’m pulling his shirt off too, running my hand over taunt muscles and skin. He’s kissing my neck and then unhooking my bra, cupping my breasts in his hands as he leans in to taste one. Flicking his tongue over my nipple, all I can feel is the desire between my legs and the desperate need to have him fill me.

  We stumble in the dim light filtering through the window, unable to tear our lips away from one another as he pulls me past a table piled with books. If he swept them onto the floor and threw me on top of it I wouldn’t be surprised but instead he pulls me down and I go with him. Hands grab at the scratchy rug beneath me as he takes my breast fully into his mouth. I grab his thigh between my legs, grinding against him, desperate for release.

  He laughs and unbuttons my jeans, only pulling away long enough to help me out of them. But as he pauses to look at me, a smile flits across his face. I prop myself up on one elbow, worried he’s having second thoughts. I can’t let that happen. I need him to want me. Love me. Please love me.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  For the first time since I ran into him the face comes crashing back. Those hollow eyes, the ones that want to devour me. A shiver runs down my spine.

  “Are you cold?” he asks gently.

  “Why did you stop?” I try again.

  I’m sitting up now, covering my breasts with one hand. All I can think about is the knives in the kitchen. If I can’t get Julia out of me one way, I’ll do it another. I silently beg him to say something.

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” he sighs.

  He sits beside me, our skin barely touching. Heat coming off us both in waves.

  “Don’t you want me?”

  My voice wavers and I feel like I’m going to cry again but I can’t. Not this time.

  “I want you so badly it hurts.”

  He looks sad and for the first time I realize I know nothing about him. Not one thing. And despite my own pain I want to take his away, no matter what the cost. I crawl into his lap and wrap my legs around him, laying my head on his shoulder. He puts his arms around me and we stay like that, our bodies melting together. He strokes my hair and tears sting my eyes. I can’t remember the last time anyone did that.

  19.

  We don’t do it on the floor or the table. In fact we don’t do it anywhere. But Mark kisses me gently before we get dressed and I know it’s not because he doesn’t want me. I try again to find out what’s wrong but all he’ll do is put a finger to my lips to quiet me. He takes my hand in his and pulls me from the room and I go with him because I don’t ever want to leave his side again.

  We end up in the sculptur
e studio. I balk at the door, the wide black windows staring back at me like giant empty eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Mark asks.

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  I can’t tell him about the face or Julia. He wouldn’t understand.

  “Come on,” he smiles.

  And so I reluctantly follow him.

  “What are we doing here?”

  He’s excited, his dark eyes shining as he runs to the sculpture in the corner and pulls off the sheet in one dramatic swoop.

  “Look!”

  “Oh my God. Mark, what have you done?”

  I’m staring at myself in disbelief. My chopped hair, crooked smile and embarrassingly small breasts all immortalized forever in clay.

  “I told you,” he says. “You’re beautiful.”

  “I can’t believe you did this.”

  I want to be mad but no one has ever done something like this for me before and as I step closer, I see how talented he really is. He’s captured the faraway look I get. The one I try to hide behind plastic smiles.

  “But it’s not finished,” I add, pointing to the lumpy clay beneath my waist.

  “Because that’s the part I haven’t seen yet,” he grins.

  He grabs my hand and pulls me close, kissing me tenderly. He unbuttons my jeans and I grab his hand, trying to push it between my legs. The heat spreads down my thighs. If I can’t have all of him then I’ll gladly take his finger instead but he pulls back and smiles.

  “Oh no,” he laughs. “Let me finish it first.”

  “Really? You’d rather play with your clay than ravish this?”

  He kisses me again, harder this time.

  “Trust me,” he whispers. “I’ll ravish you after.”

  Then he pulls out his phone and takes my picture.

  20.