by Anna Cruise
He brushed past me and pulled open the stainless steel door. He removed a plastic cafeteria-type tray loaded with paper Dixie cups, all of them filled with red and orange Jello. “Here you go.”
Aidan took it from him and set it on the counter. He picked up a cup and handed it to me. “Want one?”
I took it. “What is it?”
“A Jello shot. Tastes a hell of a lot better than beer.” He held one to his lips and the red gelled liquid slid out. “Try it.”
I didn't even hesitate. I needed something to relax me, to make me feel comfortable. I followed his lead and held a cup to my lips. I braced myself as the gel pooled in my mouth.
It tasted like cherry Jello.
“It's good,” I admitted. I set the empty cup on the counter. “What's in it?”
He shrugged, handing me an orange one to try. “Probably a little vodka.”
Whatever it was, it didn't taste anything like the bitter beer from last weekend. I finished the second one and reached for another.
A girl's voice sounded behind me. “Megan?”
I turned around. Desiree Young, my lab partner in biology, stood next to me.
“What are you doing here?” She didn't bother to hide her astonishment.
She'd dyed her hair between class this afternoon and the party; pink streaks shot through her spiky platinum hair.
“Um, I'm here with Aidan.” I motioned to him.
She nodded her head at him in greeting. “Wow. I didn't even know you guys knew each other.”
Aidan grinned. “We hooked up last weekend. At the beach.” He reached for my hand and squeezed it.
I started to protest his choice of words but stopped.
Desiree smirked. “Huh. Well, have fun. Keep him in line.”
He kissed the top of my head. “That's why she's here. Keeping me in line. She's a good girl, Dez. She's exactly what I need.”
I turned to look at him. “I'm what you need?”
He grinned, a smile so wicked it almost scared me. “Absolutely.” He pushed another shot in my direction. “Bottoms up.”
I took it from him and gulped it down. That light, giddy feeling from the bonfire was creeping back and I welcomed it. Getting drunk apparently suited me just fine. Within minutes, I was laughing and smiling. I didn't think of my mother, passed out in her bed after her own drinking binge, nor did I think of the house I was losing or the dad I'd already lost. I concentrated instead on the boy standing next to me, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist as he talked and drank with the people around us.
We stayed downstairs, stationed at the bar in the kitchen. Aidan switched to beer while I steadily worked my way through the Jello, stacking the empty cups inside of each other, a neat little tower of nesting cups. Lauren Marley arrived with a couple of her friends and she stopped to talk on her way to the keg. A dark-haired guy passed by and I did a double-take.
“What is he doing here?” I pointed at Trevor Danielson, the TA from my English class.
“Trevor?” Aidan looked at me. “He's friends with Scotty's brother. He sometimes hangs out with us. Why?”
“I dunno. Just wondered.” I'd never been to a party with a teacher before, especially a party where beer flowed like a river from a gigantic keg in the kitchen. He wasn't exactly a teacher, I reminded myself. Still, I pushed my stack of empty cups just a little further away, distancing myself from them.
Aidan looked at the drunken structure on the counter. “Have you had all of those?”
My tongue felt thick and loose, as though it was trying to separate from my body. “Uh-huh.”
“Holy shit.” He laughed. “You're gonna be drunk off your ass.”
He stood me up. “Come on, let's at least get some food in you.”
I held my arms out for balance as I navigated my way toward the living room. Someone had ordered pizza and the boxes were stacked on the coffee table. Aidan grabbed a slice of pepperoni and handed it to me.
I shook my head. “I'm a vegetarian.”
He rolled his eyes. He picked off the pieces of pepperoni and popped them into his mouth. “Here,” he said, thrusting the stripped slice at me.
I leaned against the arm of the couch and chewed slowly, concentrating on making my mouth move. I watched the people around me as I ate, offering smiles to anyone who looked my direction. They smiled back. I felt happy. Liked. A part of the party, part of the group. I felt good.
I turned toward Aidan and the room shifted, veering wildly. His hand shot out and he steadied me.
I leaned against him. “Whoa.”
He chuckled. “Whoa is right. I think you need to sit down for a bit. Maybe lay down.”
He led me from the living room, gripping my elbow with one hand, his other arm around my waist to steady me. Past the throngs of people crowding around the near-empty pizza boxes, past the entrance to the kitchen, maneuvering me to the carpeted stairs.
“Where are we going?” I concentrated on lifting my left foot. Then my right. Then left again.
“Away from everyone for a while.” He tried the first door at the top of the stairs, opening it and peering inside. “Oops. Sorry.”
A bedroom at the end of the hall was empty and he guided me inside, helping me to the bed.
“Sit,” he instructed.
I did. The room whirled around me, as if I was spinning on one of those metal merry-go-rounds at a playground, twirling around and around. I clutched the comforter and closed my eyes but the room still spun. I sank back against the pillows, trying to still the dizziness. Aidan stretched out next to me.
“I'm so dizzy,” I whispered.
“You'll be fine,” he said, stroking my hair. “We'll rest here a minute.” He moved closer and I felt the warmth of his body against mine before I felt his mouth on my neck. He trailed soft kisses up to my ear and then down, his tongue flicking lightly against my skin.
I inched closer to him. “That feels nice,” I murmured.
His lips were hot, like fire on my clammy skin.
His hands stroked my arms, running down my sides. “I could make you feel so good, Megan.”
His fingers crept up the inside of my shirt and I kissed him as he touched me. I didn't feel altogether there, in the moment. Not then, and not later when his mouth latched on to my breast and when his hands nimbly slid down my underwear. I kept my eyes closed, swallowing back the dizziness as he kissed me, over and over. He was solid, an anchor to grip as the waves rolled inside of me and I clutched him to me, holding him tight. Minutes passed and still he kissed me, his mouth and hands becoming more urgent. My fingers dug into his back and I noticed his shirt was no longer there, just smooth, warm skin. I held him tighter. He groaned and shifted so he was on top of me. Something hot and firm pulsed against the inside of my thigh. But before I could think, before I could form a single thought to tell myself to move! Stop him! a searing pain ripped through me. I stifled a scream as it tore me apart.
My eyes flew open and Aidan hovered above me. His eyes were closed, his lips pressed together in concentration.
“No,” I started to say but he covered my mouth with his own, silencing me.
“Yes....yes....yes.” He moved harder and faster against me. I clutched his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin but he didn't stop, not until he shuddered and slumped on top of me, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
I blinked back tears. The fuzziness was gone. Everything was razor-sharp, vivid. I noticed the grain of the white wooden shutters at the windows. The sand-colored walls of the room I was in. The white bureau in the corner, its surface covered with delicate statues of ceramic angels, their smiling, serene faces gazing across the room, directly at me. I studied the acoustic ceiling and connected the raised, bumpy dots to make taunting faces and jagged, prickly flowers and gruesome, leering monsters.
Aidan rolled off of me, a satisfied smile on his face, and I bolted upright.
“God, you felt good,” he said, closing his eyes again. His
hands fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. He was still half-clothed, I realized. So was I. My shirt was bunched up around my neck and my underwear was stretched around my ankles like a Chinese jump rope. Still, I felt exposed. Violated.
“I need a bathroom.” My voice was hoarse.
He motioned to the corner of the room. “Over there.”
I adjusted my clothes and eased my way to the bathroom. I flicked the light switch and the room lit up, exposing walls that were painted a cool, aqua blue. I sat down on the toilet and wiped. The paper was slick with blood. My stomach heaved but I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. My hands trembled and my legs shook violently. I sank to my knees, clutching the toilet seat as tightly as I'd gripped Aidan's shoulders only moments before. My teeth chattered uncontrollably. I took deep breaths, gulping air as if it were a cool drink of water.
The bile rose again and this time, I couldn't swallow it back down. I vomited a fountain of red-stained liquid into the toilet. The porcelain bowl was a cool, hard pillow and I rested my head against it, hoping it would numb me. I wanted to stay there all night. I wanted to die.
NINE
I didn't do either of those things.
I stood up shakily, straightening my clothes and smoothing my hair as I flushed the toilet. There was a tube of toothpaste inside the mirrored medicine cabinet and I squeezed out a small ribbon and rubbed it across my teeth. I cupped my hands under the faucet and splashed water across my cheeks and into my mouth. After drying my face, I took a tentative step out of the bathroom. The bed was empty, the pink comforter hanging askew on the bed, a small round stain in the center of it, a wet spot dotted with tiny flecks of red.
I felt a fresh surge of panic. Not at the mess in the room but the fact that I was alone. Abandoned. Had he actually left me at the party? I gripped the banister as I navigated the hallway and then the stairs, wincing at the tender ache between my thighs.
There were more people downstairs than I remembered, a sea of faces I barely recognized. I scanned the crowd. Desiree sat on the couch, a cup of beer in her hand. A guy I didn't know was next to her, his head inclined toward her as he talked. Scotty hovered in the kitchen, his hair hanging in front of his face as he pumped the keg. I gazed around the dim living room once more and spied a familiar figure leaning over the coffee table. Aidan lifted his head then, wiping his nostril with the side of his finger. He caught my eye and grinned.
“Hey, you.” He ran his finger along his teeth and his tongue followed the same path. “Want some?” he asked, nodding his head at the thin line of white powder that snaked across the table.
I shook my head.
“Suit yourself.” He re-rolled the dollar bill clutched in his hand and lowered his head once more.
I looked away, toward the couch. Desiree watched me with narrowed eyes, her lips twitching into a smile. I settled my gaze above her, wishing I could somehow transport myself away from this place—to the movie theater, to my house—anywhere other than the place I now stood. If I'd had another wish, I'd beg for the hands of time to turn back, too. Anything to prevent me from walking up those stairs and going into that bedroom. I willed my eyes to stay dry.
Aidan was next to me then, his arm curving around my waist. There was nothing comforting about it this time. He leaned in and kissed my neck, a heated kiss that made my stomach roll.
“You were hot upstairs,” he whispered.
“I want to go home.” I said it loudly, hoping he could hear me above the din of music and laughter.
He spoke fast, a rush of words. “What? Why do you want to go home? The party's just getting started.”
“I want to go home,” I repeated, hoping my voice sounded firmer this time.
He glared at me, his eyes bright, his pupils huge. “Fine. Let's go.”
He cupped his hands around his mouth and called to Scotty, “Be back in twenty!”
Aidan started toward the door without me and I followed him. He stopped at the bathroom in the front hall. “I need to take a leak.”
We were silent as we walked down the sidewalk to his car. The air was thick and wet with the scent of the ocean. A dog barked as we passed and a chorus of howls erupted in the neighboring yards. Aidan opened the door for me and I eased myself into the tiny space. He got in and jammed the key in the ignition but he didn't turn it.
“I didn't know,” he said.
I fixed my gaze on the streetlight out my window and watched the moths as they danced and crawled around its glowing bulb.
“You should have told me you were on your period.”
“What?”
“There was blood...”
I stared at the streetlight and said nothing.
“Oh, fuck.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head slam back against the head rest. “Are you telling me you're a virgin?”
“I was.” My voice was so soft, I wasn't sure if he'd heard me.
“Shit.” He covered his face with his hands. “I knew that. I mean, I thought you might be...but you were so willing...and you didn't say anything...”
He grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I could have been better....I would have been gentler.” His eyes were black, only the faintest hint of blue ringing his pupils. “Are you pissed at me?”
I wasn't sure what I was. “I just want to go home.”
He nodded. “I know. I'll take you home.” He turned the key and the car roared to life.
TEN
The Re Max sign went up on Sunday, a blue and red sign with Cheri's name printed across it in big block letters. It was like a drop-kick to the stomach. She was going to be selling the house? The woman who'd stolen my dad out from under me was going to be hosting Open Houses and bringing prospective buyers through my bedroom? Through the bedroom my dad had shared with my mom?
I watched from the window as the man, probably some assistant, pounded the stake into the front yard. I wished my dad was underneath that sign, the sharp wooden spike driving directly into his heart. I stared at it for a minute before I picked up the phone.
“Come get me,” I told Aidan.
At least he had said he was sorry.
He pulled up in front of my house fifteen minutes later. I was standing outside, waiting for him. He leaned over to the passenger side and rolled the window down. Sunglasses hid his eyes.
“Are we cool?” he asked cautiously. “You forgive me?”
The bug's diesel engine idled as he waited.
I got in and fastened my seat belt. “Yeah. I do.”
I threw my purse on the floor mat. I did forgive him. We'd both been drunk and I hadn't tried to stop him. At least not in time. That's what I told myself, anyway. It was easier to believe that.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere but here.”
He fiddled with the radio before shifting the car into gear. We drove down Mission, flying past the houses that flirted with the coastline before veering left on to La Jolla Boulevard. He turned left again, just past the tiny motel on the corner, and made a quick right before stopping in front of a small white cottage that looked as though it had been lifted from the pages of a fairy tale. Red window boxes framed the front windows, brimming with pink and purple geraniums. Dwarf palm trees and hibiscus plants bordered the golf-course green, matchbox-size lawn. Aidan got out.
“Whose house is this?” I asked as I followed him up the sidewalk.
“My mom's.” He opened the front door and led me past a living room furnished with white wicker chairs and sofas. Bouquets of pink roses decorated every horizontal surface. He walked down a wide, airy hallway and into a bedroom. His bedroom. I stopped at the door.
He must have noticed my expression. “Don't worry,” he assured me. “I'll be good.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and sat down on the bed, stiff and wooden like a soldier. “See?”
I couldn't help but smile. I stepped in to his room and sat dow
n next to him, close but not touching, and looked around. It was sparsely furnished, his queen-sized bed taking up most of the floor space in the tiny room. There was a pine chest of drawers against one wall and a matching nightstand flanking either side of the bed. The butter-colored walls were littered with posters—surfers, skaters, bands like MXPX, Insane Clown Posse, CKY, groups I didn't really listen to—and a pile of dirty clothes blocked the closet door.
“You wanna talk about it?
“About what?” I didn't think I was ready to discuss the events from the other night. I was actually surprised he was bringing it up.
He rolled to the other side of the bed and rummaged in the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. “About whatever the hell is bothering you.”
I shrugged.
He shook one into his hand, brought it to his mouth and lit it. “Have anything to do with that sign in your front yard?”
I ignored his question. “What about your mom?” I asked, motioning to the cigarette.
He exhaled a puff of white smoke. “She's not home. Even if she was, it wouldn't matter. She doesn't care.”
“Oh.” I thought about that and wondered if, in her current condition, my mom would care, either.
He settled back against the pillows. “So, tell me what has you all worked up.”
I hesitated for just a minute and then, taking a deep breath, told him. About my dad and Cheri. About my mom. About the house. All the things I couldn't tell Jada. I didn't worry about what he would think, what he would say. Somehow, I knew he wouldn't be judgmental. He smoked his cigarette, and then another, as he listened.
“Wow,” he said when I'd finished. “You have some pretty serious shit going on, don't you?”
I nodded. Spelling it all out for him, hitting all of the bullet points, brought it all into focus. And it sucked even more.
“You know,” he said, “sometimes the best thing to do with stuff like that is to find a way to laugh about it.”
I stared at him. “I don't find any of it particularly funny, though.”
“Not yet,” he told me.