The Fifth Circle

by Tricia Drammeh

  Sean’s new job at a greasy burger joint was the thin silver lining in his stormy, cloudy life. When I congratulated him, he flipped out.

  “What do you mean, I’m so happy for you, Sean?” His mocking falsetto turned cold. I struggled to figure out what I’d said to make him so furious. With measured steps, he stalked across his bedroom and stood over me, shaking with rage.

  Nausea washed over me. What could I possibly say to diffuse the situation? Things had turned ugly very fast, and I couldn’t figure out why he seemed to believe I was his enemy. It had always been the two of us against the world. Now, it felt as if I were always on guard against his rapidly shifting moods.

  “Gee, Sean,” he continued, his face just inches from mine. “I’m so glad you’re sentenced to a life of flipping burgers. Oh, well, as long as I don’t have to work. I’ll just continue to soak up all your money until I find someone better.” His shrieking, mocking laughter startled me and I moved away from him, skittering across the bed to the other side.

  His rage left suddenly, and fear took over. He sat down next to me on the bed. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’m just so fucking stressed…I itch all over and I can’t sleep. When I do finally fall asleep, I have nightmares about going back to jail. It was horrible. You have no idea.”

  I reached out and held his hand.

  “You’re the only good thing going in my life. You’re the only person I can trust and the only one on my side. I’d probably kill myself if I didn’t have you.”

  What could I say to that? I couldn’t tell him that I thought about breaking up with him almost daily. I couldn’t tell him that he scared the crap out of me. Sean had crossed a line a long time ago, and there was no going back. I loved him, but I didn’t feel comfortable around him. I was always on edge when we were together—and sometimes, even when we were apart. I was afraid to do or say anything because I never knew what would trigger his rage. At no time did I feel relaxed or safe. My life had become unbearable.

  How could I say any of this to Sean? He needed me, and I needed him. Despite everything we’d been through lately, he was the only person I could trust, the only person who knew the truth about me. Other guys would probably turn away from me in disgust if they knew what I’d done—been forced to do. Sometimes, I couldn’t bear to live with the truth about myself. Sometimes, I just wanted to die.

  Like now.

  Nothing in my life was going as planned. Planned? That probably wasn’t the best word to use in regards to my life. I never planned anything, never set any goals. I did my chores, did my homework, and did what everyone expected me to do. But to actually sit down and make plans for my life? No. I’d never done any of that.

  Each time I thought about taking my life in my own hands—of refusing to go with the flow—my own sense of sluggish helplessness got in the way. There was always a reason why I couldn’t do what I should, or always some challenge that stood in my way. Like Scarlett O’Hara, the mantra I’ll think about it tomorrow had become my worst enemy.

  “If I have to go back to jail…” Sean said.

  Was it wrong that I felt relief at the thought of Sean going to jail? That I felt giddy the way one feels when they’re staring down the barrel of summer vacation?

  “If I have to serve time, I’ll get through it because I know you’ll be here waiting for me,” he said. “You will be waiting, right?”

  I couldn’t disappoint Sean. He’d been my lifeline, my one true friend. He loved me and I owed him my loyalty. Just because he was having a hard time right now didn’t mean I could leave him. If you loved someone, it should be unconditional. You didn’t just cut someone loose because they were struggling with legal or mental issues.

  “I’ll always be here for you,” I said as a weight of impending doom settled, crushing me.

  “I love you,” he wept. I patted his shoulder while he cried and knew I did the right thing. How could I leave someone who needed me the way Sean did?

  ***

  Three days after the initial court date, Sean lost his job flipping burgers. It wasn’t his fault though, so no one was mad at him, though I suspected the lawyer would probably complain. His mom and I weren’t upset—we knew how stressed and on edge he’d been. He hadn’t slept much in the days prior to his court appearance, so it was only natural that he totally crashed afterwards. I tried to wake him up so he could go to work, but in his exhausted state, he cursed at me and lashed out. His mom called his work and told them he was sick, but I guess they didn’t buy that excuse, so they fired him.

  Of course, Sean blamed his mom and me for not forcing him to get up, but that was just the stress talking. Sean didn’t realize how difficult he could be when he was in one of his super-sonic-sleeping phases. I still felt guilty for ruining his fast-food career before it ever really started.

  “If you want me to get a job, I will,” I offered.

  “What the hell good is that gonna do?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair. His mom made him cut it before he went before the judge, but somehow, Sean’s hair always looked unkempt. Maybe it was the cowlicks that made it stick up at odd angles. Or, maybe because he had a habit of messing with his hair when he was nervous.

  “I know that,” I replied, trying to remain calm. “I just meant, I thought maybe I could get a job to help out with money.”

  “Are you saying I can’t take care of you?” His voice rose dangerously.

  “No. You’ve been taking care of me all this time, so I thought it was only fair that I should help out for a while. The sooner we get your lawyer paid off, the sooner we can start saving for our future.”

  “Maybe,” he mumbled. “I’ll think about it.”

  He was calm once again. I did well. I validated his belief that he was my caretaker, while still making my case for wanting a job. Plus, I reaffirmed his plans for us to get a place together and stated my allegiance to him. It was very important for me to remind him that I was still on his team. His feelings were easily hurt, especially right now when he was so insecure about everything.

  I’d learned to be careful a long time ago. My mother’s interactions with my dad had taught me a thing or two. Growing up, I’d had years of practice at escaping my dad’s bad moods and flying under the radar. I never thought I’d be in my mom’s position—that I’d be the one who had to soothe damaged egos and calm erratic tempers.

  Sean wasn’t anything like my dad, though. Sean didn’t drink. His bursts of temper were due to extreme stress and his mental disorder, so it wasn’t his fault.

  The next day, Sean and I went out job hunting together. He was beyond pissed when I was offered a job at the taco shop and he wasn’t.

  “Those motherfuckers only hired you because you’re hot. They shut me out because they know you’re with me and they think they’ll have a chance with you if I’m not around.”

  No. They hired me because they were looking for a cashier and Sean told them he didn’t like working with people. But, I didn’t tell Sean that. It was better to let him believe what he wanted.

  “Fine. I won’t take the job. You’re right—they’re assholes,” I said. Sean nodded grimly, evidently pleased that I was able to see things his way. I breathed a sigh of relief. Another crisis averted.

  ***

  As the deadline for submitting my research paper approached, I thought I’d finally found out what Dante was thinking about when he put the wrathful and sullen together. Sean was either full of wrath, or sinking "into a black sulkiness which can find no joy in God or man or the universe." I could hardly use Sean’s behavior as a reference to prove my theory, but at least I’d nailed down part of my thesis.

  Dante chose to place the sullen and wrathful together in the Fifth Circle of Hell because the two behaviors are mirror images of the same emotion. It was a start. Now, I just had to prove my theory by dissecting the Cantos and finding a few good sources to back up my claims.

  Chelsea had long finished her paper and couldn’t believe I’d left mi
ne to the last minute. I could hardly explain how busy I’d been dealing with Sean. She was very judgmental and would never understand. Plus, she’d never had a boyfriend, so she didn’t know how much work went into maintaining a good relationship with your soul mate.

  When she lectured me on procrastination, I barely acknowledged her words. I felt smug, superior. Poor Chelsea. She just couldn’t catch a man, and she was jealous of me. That’s why she was coming down so hard on me. She finished her paper in record time because she had no life.

  I stopped feeling smug when I realized procrastination can have far more devastating effects than just a late assignment. Sometimes, putting things off can change your life. I stopped caring about Dante and his stupid Divine Comedy. I was in my own circle of hell and I’d brought others along for the ride.

  Actually, in a round-about way, it was Dante’s fault that I stumbled across the truth in such a painful and shocking way. I couldn’t find my library book—the one I’d checked out to prove my thesis. I looked everywhere. I knew I was desperate when I resorted to looking through the cabinet under the bathroom sink. I moved rolls of toilet paper, half-full bottles of conditioner, and tampon boxes.

  There was something about the feminine supplies that created a nagging worry in the back of my mind. That worry took front and center when I realized I hadn’t bought supplies in a really long time. Did my mom stock up for me? No. When was the last time I’d used them? When was the last time I’d had my period?

  The room began spinning around me, making it difficult for me to remember what month it was now, much less when I’d last had my period. I ran to my room, the book forgotten. With trembling hands, I rummaged through my backpack in search of my planner. I usually circled the day I started, so I could keep track and not be caught without supplies if I happened to start at school.

  It was the end of April. Nothing was circled. I tore the page in my haste to revisit March. Nothing. February? Nothing. January? The number nineteen was encircled with blue ink. Three months ago. Maybe I just forgot to record it the last two times. I’d been pretty busy dealing with Sean, so it was only natural to become forgetful about certain things.

  I sat down on my bed, acid burning a fiery path from my stomach into my throat. Tears burned the back of my eyes. My face tingled with heat, but my hands and feet were cold and heavy. Time blended and twisted as I tried to remember every significant event that had occurred over the past few months. Maybe if I could recall each event, I could link it to my period. There must have been a time I rushed back to my house to grab supplies, or cursed because my period started and I wasn’t prepared, or had to explain to Sean that we had a blow-job only week ahead of us.

  Sean. Maybe I could ask him. He might remember. Or, maybe he could take me to Walgreens to buy one of those tests. I tried to imagine what his reaction might be, but couldn’t. It was hard to tell. He’d been so stressed lately, I couldn’t see him taking the news well. I’d been stressed too, though, and it was a well known fact that stress could mess with your menstrual cycle. Besides, I still wasn’t sure my period was actually late. Stress makes you forgetful too.

  Stress can make you forget about many things: your research paper, your chores, or your vow to make an appointment at Planned Parenthood. Procrastination is worse, though. My failure to make an appointment to get birth control pills had more to do with me putting it off, than it had to do with forgetfulness. I thought about birth control every time Sean ‘forgot’ to use a condom. Forgot or refused. I never even reminded him anymore, so it was all my fault if I turned up pregnant.

  After the next court date, I’d tell him. I’d ask him to take me to get a test. When that test turned out to be negative, I’d insist on going to Planned Parenthood. I thought about the lawyer’s assessment that Sean would probably have to go to court several times before his actual sentencing. Maybe I wouldn’t burden him with my stupidity. Who could I ask to take me to Planned Parenthood? My mom? No. My dad would find out and I’d be toast. Chelsea? We weren’t really friends anymore. We talked at school, but that was about it. Sean didn’t like her, and I didn’t want to piss him off by hanging out with her.

  I’d wait. Everything would be okay. It was probably a false alarm. Nothing to worry about. Besides, worrying didn’t help. I’d think about it later.

  ***

  Sean and I hadn’t really seen each other all day, not even at lunchtime. Students serving in-school suspension were on a different lunch schedule, a situation that left me feeling simultaneously relieved and on edge. Sean never reacted well to spending the entire day without me. When I met him outside after school, he was already seated in his truck, his knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel.

  “How’d it go?” I asked.

  “Don’t ask.” He peeled out of the parking space, almost taking out the back bumper of the Jeep in front of him.

  I remained silent on the drive home, reluctant to say anything that might trigger an episode. I automatically followed him inside his house, even though I longed to go to my own. Just once, I wanted to climb the stairs to my bedroom, throw myself across my own bed, and curl up with a good book. I needed escape, but with Sean, I only got heaping doses of an ugly reality I could no longer handle.

  “You know what I just realized?” Sean asked as he tossed a plate of frozen pizza rolls into the microwave. He ran his hand through his greasy hair. He’d been in a dark mood lately. He slept little and played Tales of Andrometis late into the night. In the morning, he awoke bleary-eyed with no ambition whatsoever to attend to his own personal hygiene.

  “We’ve had sex almost every day,” he said.

  What else was new? That was his great revelation? His news flash? I waited for him to elaborate.

  “You haven’t told me no.”

  How could I? I was afraid to piss him off.

  “I mean, you haven’t had your time of the month.”

  There it was—his great realization. The statement hit me like a blow to the face. So did his hand. My head snapped back from the impact. With one trembling hand, I reached out to steady myself against the counter. With the other, I touched my lip. It was already beginning to swell. The red evidence of his crime was smeared across my fingertips.

  “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry,” I cried. “I meant to get on the pill, but…”

  “You didn’t tell me because it isn’t mine! You’ve been fucking around behind my back and some other dude knocked you up! You’re a whore!”

  “No! I’ve never been with anyone else. I…”

  “Why should I believe you? I’ve seen the way you look at Cole!”

  I’d never looked at his best friend with anything other than intense loathing. I couldn’t stand Cole. “Seriously, Sean. You know I’ve only ever been with you.”

  His hand flew up to hit me, and I cowered, putting my hands over my head.

  “How could you do this to me?” he shouted. Grabbing a knife off the kitchen counter, he held it blade down across his wrist. “After everything I’ve done for you, how could you cheat on me?”

  “Sean, put it down.” I stood up and reached out to him. “Give me the knife, Sean. Give it here. Don’t hurt yourself. You’re the father of my baby. We’re supposed to get married.”

  Tears streaked down my cheeks. If Sean killed himself, it would be my fault. I’d pushed him to this point by hiding the truth. No wonder he thought I was lying to him. What other reason would I have for hiding the pregnancy?

  “I don’t want to live if I can’t have you.”

  “You do have me. I’m yours. Forever. We’re going to be a family.”

  The wild, manic look faded from his eyes and he put the knife down on the countertop. He wanted to believe me, and in his heart, he knew I’d never hurt him. It was his illness that betrayed him and tricked him into thinking the world was against him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

  “Sean, I’m not even
one-hundred percent sure. I haven’t taken a test or anything. It just occurred to me the other day that I might be, and I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. You’ve had so much to deal with lately, I didn’t want to make things worse.”

  His features twisted, morphed into something resembling a smile. “This is the best news ever. Do you realize what this means? We’re gonna be a family. It’ll be just you and me and the baby and nothing can ever come between us. I won’t be like my father—I’ll never let you go.”

  It was my worst nightmare. Me and Sean and a baby. Forever. The prospect was terrifying. I would spend forever catering to his erratic moods, forever trying to appease his anger, forever trying to make ends meet because he’d never be able to hold down a job, forever trying to shield our child from his or her father’s rage.

  Just like that, I turned into my mother, and the circle of hell closed in around me.

  Chapter 20- Sean

  And people I saw through the circular valley

  Silent and weeping…

  (Canto XX, lines 7 & 8)

  The test was positive and it was the happiest day of my life. I couldn’t understand why Alex was crying.

  “It’s just such a shock,” she kept repeating.

  We hadn’t used a condom in months, so for me, the only thing that was shocking was the fact that it took so long for me to get her pregnant. She hadn’t had a period in that time, so she must have been at least a couple of months along. We’d have to go to a doctor to find out for sure.

  I rubbed her back and tried to console her, all the time thinking about how happy I was that we had this permanent, undeniable link between us. A baby would tie us together in a way nothing else ever could. Even if she tried to leave me—and she wouldn’t—I’d always have an excuse to be involved in her life. Besides, no other guy was gonna want a single mother, so she had no choice. She had to stay with me.