Lighter

by Gia Riley

  Whiskey and beer.

  Hovering in a corner next to the bannister, dad throws an empty bottle of whiskey against the living room wall. He’s cussing mom out for forgetting to buy him a pack of cigarettes on her way home from work. I sit in the corner chilled to the bone not wanting to watch the scene unfold, but too scared to make a run for it to my room. If he spots me, he’ll only get angrier. I’ve learned to stay out of his way, especially when he’s been drinking.

  Not backing down from his harsh words, mom goes toe to toe with him, firing back a slew of bitter comments of her own. The shouting continues to escalate until it comes to a crescendo—his fist making contact with the drywall. Little pieces of chalky powder fall onto the beige carpet below. The gaping hole left in the middle of the living room wall is evidence of his uncontrollable anger.

  Mom’s half in shock yet not entirely fazed by his predictable tantrum. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean? Who’s going to pay for that?”

  A hallow laugh erupts from his intoxicated mouth. “Don’t I make sure the bills are covered every damn month? Yes, I do. Because your worthless ass can only manage a part time job.” He absentmindedly massages his hand, wiping the blood leaking from his cracked knuckles onto his jeans. Another fight will follow when she can’t get the blood stains out of his pants.

  Mom throws her hands in the air, rage winning over level-headedness. “I’m busy taking care of our daughter which is a lot more than you can say for yourself. When’s the last time you did anything for either of us without being asked?”

  “You’re the one who got pregnant, Victoria. I told you kids weren’t for me. And, don’t get me started about her. I don’t think that’s a conversation you want to have with me right now.” He grabs a handful of tissues out of the box and wraps them around his hand.

  Please stop pushing him, mom. Please.

  “Don’t you dare make her out to be a mistake, Dean. So help me, God. She’s eleven years old. She needs two parents who love her. Not one responsible parent and a drunk. I’ve missed out on a lot over the years. You haven’t made any sacrifices when it comes to her, that’s for damn sure. Because you’re too busy with your pants around your ankles in the ally next to the goddamn bar.”

  Dad roughly grabs onto her upper arms, jerking her back and forth like a rag doll. He so close to her face, she’s forced to turn her head sideways. “What I do is my business. Maybe if you were a better wife and not focused on her bullshit I wouldn’t have to find it elsewhere.”

  “None of your poor decisions are my fault, Dean. I’ve never told you no—ever.”

  Releasing her from his hold, she stumbles backwards before regaining her balance. “I know your poor decisions all too well, Victoria.” His evil eyes pierce her before he continues. “I don’t have time for this shit. I’m going out.” He grabs his hat off the coat rack and slams the door behind him. The force sends a few more pieces of powdery drywall trickling to the carpet.

  Mom collapses to the floor, sobbing into her hands. It’s no secret he doesn’t want me, but the reminder always stings more than the last. With no sign of him coming back, I run over to her, rubbing her back as she continues to let years of pent up frustration, anger, and sadness pool in a puddle of wet tears. “Don’t cry, Momma. I love you.”

  “S-Sophie,” she sobs.

  I lay down next to her, holding her shaking body—comforting her any way I can. I’m responsible for his hatred and I’ll do anything to take her pain away. “Don’t cry, Momma. Please.”

  “Sophie? Hey.”

  “Sorry, what?” I look between Kipton and Cara. They both glance at me curiously, but don’t ask any questions. Even if they did, I’m not sure I’d have the guts to tell them about the darkness that haunts my past. It’s safer to push it away.

  “What if I have you home early?” Kipton asks.

  I shrug my shoulders, unsure with my decision at this point. The angel on my right shoulder is telling me to go to bed early and focus on my training. Of course the devil on the left has me picturing every inch of him naked. I have to stop this. My hormones have been in overdrive since he caught me in my towel. “I’ll think about it.” It’s a smart answer. This way, I leave my options open but don’t have to commit yet.

  “I’m definitely in,” Cara adds with a clap of her hands and a shake of her ass. “And if I have any say in it, so are you, Sophie.”

  Kipton rolls his eyes but waits until Cara turns around to hang more clothes in the closet. When she’s out of view, he mouths the word come and immediately I’m covered in goose bumps. I nod my head, accepting the invitation. My body answering before my brain has a chance to catch up. What did I agree too?

  “Have a good night, ladies.” Before he closes the door completely, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I throw myself onto my bed, realizing the earthy scent of his cologne has seeped into my bedding. If I close my eyes, it’s as if he’s still laying here with me. Inhaling deeply, I cuddle my pillow against my chest. Mid sniff, the door to our room swings open. Kipton grabs his keys off the top of the TV stand and winks at me. “Won’t get too far without these. See-ya tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Kippy.” Cara practically sings from her closet. She’s on cloud nine about this party. I, on the other hand, am in serious trouble. Mortified, I roll over to face the window, hearing Kipton chuckle as the door closes.

  He caught me sniffing my pillow.

  CARA AND I ARE ON our way back from the dining hall, I’m lost in thought while she rambles on about the party tomorrow night. As she finishes telling me about all the hot guys that live with Kipton, I’m wondering how out of place I’ll feel around all these people. While the guys all sound like a lot of fun, an introvert like me is just hoping to blend in to the crowd. “Do you think I’ll fit in?”

  “Anyone can fit in, Sophie. And you’re new here. You can be anyone you want to be. Nobody knows a thing about you yet. That’s the beauty of going away to college. Whatever stigma stuck to you in high school, you can shed it and break free. Believe it or not, I wasn’t super popular. I mean sure, I had my group of friends that I went to the country club with, but I was never in the clique. Those girls were too much like the plastics.

  “The Plastics from Mean Girls?” My school had a few of those too. No matter what they did, they were worshipped by many and feared by most.

  “Completely. Look, Sophie. We have our first love note of the semester.” Cara rips a taped memo off our door and we scan it together in the hallway. Our resident advisor isn’t wasting any time jumping into things. I know this is college life, but I was hoping to be asleep early tonight. Between driving and unpacking, I’m beat.

  “A meeting already? I’m going to talk to the RA. Late night meetings aren’t going to work for my schedule.” All I want to do is crawl into my bed and get some rest before hell week begins in the gym tomorrow. Coaches love to start training camp off with a bang that will set the tone for the entire season. It’s never easy and fun wouldn’t be a word I’d use to describe it.

  “If he’s hot tell him I’m single.”

  “I will.” Laughing at her expression, I jog down the rest of the hallway to find Room 315. Walking by it the first time, I turn around and knock twice on the closed door. I hear laughter on the other side, but nobody answers. I knock again, a little louder this time.

  The door finally swings open to reveal the only other familiar face I’ve seen on campus thus far. The guy who almost killed me with his skateboard. “Sophie! What’s up?”

  “You get around, don’t you? I’m looking for Drew. Is he in there?” I try to peek around his shoulder, but can’t see anyone else inside the room.

  “You’re looking at him,” he announces proudly.

  This has to be a joke. “Say what?”

  Chuckling, he opens the door wider. “Come on in. Make yourself at home. To the right we have the bed and to the left the couch. Don’t go getting lost.”

  He’s humoring me, but I can
’t get over him being the RA of the floor. I saw him moving in just this morning. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. I told you I was part of the welcoming committee.”

  He did say that. “That explains how you knew my name. I thought you were a stalker with a door fetish.”

  “Yeah. I usually don’t make it a point to assault my residents with skateboards or nearly knock them down the stairs. I apologize for the rocky start.”

  “Apology accepted, but do you always act like a ten-year-old boy?” I pull my hair back into a ponytail and secure it with the tie I always keep around my wrist.

  “Only on Mondays,” he says while cleaning the junk off his coffee table. He doesn’t need to clean on my account.

  “Good to know.”

  “So what’s up?” he asks. “Or did you just want to make nice with the RA?”

  “Funny, but no. I can’t make it to your meeting tonight.”

  Drew crosses his arms, taking on a defensive stance. This must be his I’m the boss pose. “Why not? It’s mandatory.”

  “Because I have to be at the gym by six tomorrow morning. My bedtime is crazy early compared to most college students, but I have no choice. I’m not a morning person as it is. Plus, it’s been a long day. I drove all the way from Tennessee.”

  “That’s right. You’re the gymnast. Well, maybe I can make an exception since you have special circumstances. Have a seat and I’ll go over the info with you.”

  I walk over to the small black sofa lining the far wall. He’s lucky he has a room twice the size of mine. I’d love to have some extra space for furniture besides the beds. “Thanks. What year are you?”

  “Junior.”

  I laugh and he raises his eyebrows at me. “I thought you were a freshman.”

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s cool. I was only having fun today. I’ve been here for three days sitting through boring meetings and it’s been eerily quiet. I try to be approachable and meet the residents as they come inside. That wasn’t even my TV that took flight.”

  “It’s okay. You were just doing your job.” He hands me a folder full of papers and goes over all the do’s and don’ts of the dorm. Some are comical and make me wonder what happened in the past to need a rule in the first place. When there can’t possibly be anything else to cover, he hands me one last piece of paper.

  “This one usually gets the most grief,” he says.

  The paper goes into detail about how we aren’t allowed to have guests of the opposite sex stay in our room during the week and if we have guests on the weekends, they have to be signed in and approved. It makes sense with the strict fire codes, but how they plan to keep guys out of girls rooms is beyond me. It’s a co-ed dorm. “Well this shouldn’t be a problem with me.” I sign it right away and hand it back to him without a second glance.

  “Okay. Either you’re single or you don’t enjoy sharing a twin bed with a dude. I can’t say I blame you on that one. Or a girl, I’m not judging.”

  “Well, yes to both. Possibly.”

  “Still deciding?”

  I snort. “No, there’s no boyfriend and definitely no girlfriend. But you’re right. Someone would definitely end up on the floor.” I know I’m all of five feet tall, but I like my space when I sleep. I’ve never shared a room with a guy on a regular basis to know the difference anyway.

  “You’d be surprised how creative you can get with the lack of space.”

  Cara would be all over that response, but I keep my comments to myself. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  After a few more questions, we finish up the meeting. Drew actually turns out to be a pretty cool guy and not the total clown I pegged him for. He definitely has a fun side, but takes his job seriously too. I’m comfortable around him—the exact opposite of the way I feel around Kipton.

  “How’d it go?” Cara asks from the comfort of her bed. She definitely has the right idea. I’m excited to relax in mine the rest of the night. I haven’t sat down for more than a few minutes at a time today and my body is aching from all the heavy lifting.

  “Drew seems cool. I’m excused from the meeting and can go to bed anytime I want.”

  “Is he hot?” She questions hopefully.

  “He isn’t bad to look at, no. Not my type, but he has a nice body.”

  “Since we’re staying in, maybe I’ll go say hello before the meeting. Or would that be too forward of me?”

  Cara forward? Never. “You do whatever your little heart desires. I plan on watching a movie and falling asleep. The drive caught up with me.”

  She contemplates her decision for a few short seconds. “Well, you only live once right? Wish me luck.” She scurries out of bed, gives herself a quick once over in the mirror and checks her own ass out. Literally. “It’ll have to do. Goodnight,” she whispers before leaving the room. Something tells me Drew will be intrigued by her. He’s just the right kind of crazy to handle her too.

  Hoping to fall asleep in a reasonable amount of time despite the ruckus in the hallway, I turn on Pretty Woman and watch the classiest hooker I’ve ever seen get swept off her feet. A timeless treasure from the nineties I can watch over and over again.

  The credits are rolling and I’m still awake when Cara returns. “Night, guys. Bye, Drew.”

  I smile; not at all annoyed I’m still up. “Mission accomplished, Cara?”

  She squeals and jumps on my bed so hard she almost launches me right off. “Whoa, shit. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I laugh. “I take it you kinda like him.”

  “He’s freakin gorgeous, Sophie. And he’s funny. I swear he could have told us we could only shower once a week in cold water and I would have agreed. For all I know he did because I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.” She tips her head back and groans. “So hot. Mark my words, Soph. This mission has only just begun! Now get some sleep so you don’t hate me in the morning.”

  “Okay. Night, Cara.”

  “Night!”

  SIX O’CLOCK SEEMS TO COME faster than usual and I’m filled with butterflies from the moment I wake up. Thankfully, I was exhausted and was able to get several solid hours of sleep despite Cara’s late night excitement. Dressing quickly, I pack up my things as quietly as possible so I don’t wake her. Slinking out of the room while being extra careful not to let any light in from the hallway, I close the door with a click.

  I stand up a little straighter once I can make noise again. The halls of the dorm are silent, and campus is deserted at this early hour of the morning. Watching a random paper plate left behind by the retreating garbage truck take flight is distracting enough to refocus my nerves. My heart’s been pumping powerfully since I woke up much like it would after I get done with an exhausting floor routine. I’m so hopped up on adrenaline; I know I need to rein it in so I don’t hurt myself on the equipment. As the most recent recruit and reigning new girl, there’s so much for me to prove today. I deserve this opportunity and by the end of practice today, I want everyone else to believe it too.

  Inside the gym, I notice I’m not the only one eager to begin. There are already a handful of other girls warming up so I join them on the floor and begin stretching. A few smile at me, while another eyes me up and down, sensing competition. Averting my eyes, I focus on each championship banner hanging from the rafters. I’m reminded of the time my mom brought me here to watch the team take home the title. It was Coach Evans first year with the team, and as an eager thirteen year old gymnast, I wanted to meet him so bad. Mom said we had to beat the traffic and didn’t have time to stick around. Of course I pouted, but instead of getting angry, I got determined. Determined to perform here myself one day. Maybe that’s why this is all so surreal. Finally a dream come true—one that I never saw coming to a lonely girl from Ashland.

  “Everyone, let’s welcome Sophie to the team. She’s our newest addition and I have high hopes she’ll fit seamlessly into the lineup.” A few hi’s and hello’
s come from the circle of girls and my spirits lift when they aren’t staring holes through my skull anymore.

  “You’re starting over here, Sophie. Follow me.” Coach puts me to work right away. His presence dominates the room, making me want to disappear into the wall when I mess up. Considering how nervous I am, I’m fairly pleased with the way my vaults go. My landings were slightly off the mark, but my body was solid in the air. After a critique of my form, I’m sent to try again. Each vault I do is slightly better than the last, but they still aren’t acceptable enough for Coach. Worried he’s going to stick to me like glue the entire day, I’m relieved when he focuses on a teammate long enough for me to get my act together. I’m panting and struggling to catch my breath from the exertion, but once it’s my turn again, he’s right by my side critiquing each move I make whether good or bad.

  “Faster, push harder with your leading arm! And for the love of God get your legs straight, Sophie. If I’d wanted mediocre, I wouldn’t have spent so much time recruiting you,” Coach Evans yells. He’s known for his hard-ass-demeanor in the gym, and my future on the team depends on meshing well with his style.

  I take note of the adjustments he wants me to make, but on the next vault, I miss the landing entirely, ending up on my ass. Peeling my already tired body off the mat, I get back up to fight through the next landing. Over and over, I’m corrected and challenged.

  “That last one was completely worthless, Sophie.”

  It only takes one word linked in a sentence to set me off.

  Worthless.

  “You spend so much damn money on her shit, Victoria. And for what? So she can get a meaningless medal around her neck and feel like she’s somebody for ten minutes? That’s not how the real world works. They don’t give awards for not falling on your ass.”

  “Dean, it’s not about medals. It’s the life lessons the sport offers. That’s what matters. It’s both a mental game and a physical.”

  “Life lessons,” he barks out with a laugh. “Did gymnastics teach you how to be worthless because you’re damn good at that? Who knows, Vic, maybe she’ll follow in your footsteps.”