Beware of Love in Technicolor

by Kirstie Collins Brote

  When the cake was gone, and the bill was paid, John helped me on with my coat, and we strolled, arm in arm, back to my room at The Pit. Molly had arranged to stay with a friend from crew, so there would be no annoying interruptions.

  His conscience had other plans.

  Kate Bush was once again wailing through the tiny speakers on my chest of drawers, and candles were flickering on my desk. I sat down on the bed next to him, and draped my legs over his. He untied his tie, slid it out of his collar, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He removed my shoes, and gently ran his hands up my calves to my thighs. When he reached the top of the black silk stockings I had worn under my dress, he pushed me down on the bed, pushed my dress up, and began to slowly remove each stocking, one at a time.

  I was ready for this.

  It was my birthday. I was nineteen. I was wearing jewelry from Tiffany’s. I was ready for this.

  “You are so hot,” he murmured, removing the new pair of black bikinis I had been saving for this occasion. He kicked off his shoes, and I heard them hit the floor.

  I had been reading Cosmo, and Anais Nin. I was ready for this.,

  When I felt his tongue on me, I felt the world drop out from under me, and was aware only of the weight of him on my legs and his soft, tender kisses. I let out a moan, and he began kissing me harder, his tongue moving quickly, until I nearly forgot my name.

  “I love the sounds you make,” he said, breathing heavy. “Your smell, your legs,” he ran his hand down my right leg, and back up my left. “I love that I’m the first one to touch you,” he said, sliding a finger inside me while kissing my navel.

  He stopped and pulled my dress back into a more demure position, and joined me on the pillow.

  “I’m so glad you’re going to be my first,” I said softly.

  His eyes suddenly met mine, and he froze.

  I was not ready for that.

  “What?” I asked, the room suddenly coming back into focus.

  “I can’t do this,” he said, sitting up.

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

  “Why didn’t you ask me about the weekend I went to UMass?” He was looking at the floor instead of in my eyes. His voice was strained, and thin.

  “What should I have asked you?” I returned cautiously. We were both sitting up now.

  “I slept with her, Greer, and you didn’t even care enough to ask.”

  “I didn’t think I had to,” I said coldly, drawing my legs up underneath me. I sat cross-legged, with my hands balled into tiny little fists in my lap. I felt the anger swelling up inside, and knew there was no sense fighting it. I was on the emotional edge; all I needed was a small push, from any direction.

  “You asked me if I trusted you,” I stated in my icy manner, waiting for the right time to strike.

  “I thought you could. I wasn’t strong enough.”

  “You said it was over.”

  “It was,” he said. “it is.”

  “But you still felt the need to fuck her.”

  “Greer,” he started. But I didn’t give him a chance.

  “Even with me here waiting for you like some kind of loser, you still felt the need to fuck her. I suppose it was my fault,” I continued. “Am I right? You were just so goddamn frustrated with me and my not putting out, you figured, ‘What the hell? She’ll never know.’”

  “Greer,” he said again, more weakly this time. He would not meet my angry eyes.

  “You just didn’t count on liking me so much, did you?” I shot at him.

  “I’ve liked you since I met you!” he snapped. “I’ve never made a secret of that. But she’s not afraid to say all the things I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Everything you are too damn scared to say.”

  “We’ve only known each other for two months,” I laughed bitterly. “Don’t feed me that crap. I’m not one of your stupid sluts you can fill up with lies while you stick your hand up my dress.”

  “She’s not stupid.”

  “What?”

  “Abby. She’s not stupid.”

  “Fine,” I said. “She’s a very intelligent slut. I’m sure her mother is very proud.” I plucked

  the earrings from my ears and threw them on the bed. “Take your guilt gift and get the hell out of here,” I said calmly. “I want nothing more to do with you.”

  I walked to the light switch and flicked on the overhead lamp. I blew out the candles and cut off Kate mid-wail. I was sure my heart was going to leap out of my chest; it was beating so loudly. My face felt flushed, and my knees were weak. Despite my steely demeanor, I wanted to throw myself at him, kiss his lips, his neck. I wanted him to rip my dress off and finish what we had started.

  “Do you really want me to leave?” he asked softly, resignation in his voice.

  “No,” I said. “But you have to. I can’t do this. It’s all just too much,” I trailed off, just in time to hold back a surge of tears. I looked at him, and noticed he was as close to crying as I was.

  I watched in silence as he pulled his shoes on, and handed him his coat. Our eyes locked once more, and he bent down and kissed my cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, but I didn’t move. I didn’t blink.

  ***

  Four hours later, with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, I sat on the steps of Wyndham, facing the street. It was three in the morning, and hardly a car passed by. The night was very still, and cold. I was still trying to piece together the events of my birthday. How such a perfect night had gone so nuclear.

  “Is there room on that step for another lost soul?” I heard John’s voice from the sidewalk.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” I replied vacantly.

  He sat down next to me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. Especially on

  your birthday.”

  “Funny way of showing it,” I said flatly. We were both quiet for a while. A neighborhood dog barked, and we heard the slam of a car door.

  “You ruined my life, you know,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “The last thing I wanted when I came to college was a girlfriend.”

  “You already had one,” I reminded him.

  “We had broken up,” he corrected me. “I was going to be free to sleep with whoever I

  wanted, go out with the guys whenever I wanted,” he continued. “And on the first night here...”

  “You met me,” I finished.

  “I met you.”

  “And I ruined your life.”

  “I knew exactly what I wanted,” he said, the emotion welling up, his voice growing louder and more urgent. “And you are ruining everything!”

  I stood up and brushed the pine needles from my jeans. I bent down and kissed the top of his head. I had no intention of making things easy on him. I left him sitting there. I don’t know what time he went home.

  ***

  Now, you’d think I would have had a good cry, resigned myself to the impossibility of the relationship, and continued fumbling my way through my first semester of college. Why, for the first time in my life, I did not choose the path of least resistance, I’ll never know.

  I think I turned it into a game to avoid dealing with how much it hurt. It hurt to be betrayed. It hurt to let someone inside your life, only to have him stick it in someone else just when you were ready for him. Even though I didn’t know anything about her, I imagined Abby to be perfect, everything that I was not. Planning games and strategy meant I didn’t have to deal with the messy side of my feelings. It made me think I had some control.

  On Monday afternoon, four days after my birthday, I finally went to see John. The girls in The Pit were getting sick of taking messages from him, while I pretended to be unavailable. The whiteboard on our door was full of notes urging me to please call him back.

  As I stood in front of his room, questioning my decision to be there at all, he opened the door. I hadn’t even knocked yet.

 
We both jumped back, startled by the sudden appearance of the other.

  “Greer,” he said, and smiled. His hair was a mess, and it looked like he had just woken up.

  “Hey,” I said slowly. “I was wondering if we could talk?”

  “Yeah, of course,” he answered, still standing in the doorway. He looked back into his room, then back to me. “It’s a real mess in here. Can you give me five minutes?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m hungry,” he said. “Are you hungry? Give me five minutes, and we’ll get some food.”

  “Ok,” I said. “I’ll be down at Topher’s. Come get me when you’re ready.” I started walking down the hall.

  “Hey Greer,” he called after me. I turned and looked at him. “It’s good to see you,” he said before disappearing into his room.

  He was true to his word, and in five minutes he was standing in the doorway of Topher’s room, where we had been discussing the merits of the movie Xanadu, and laughing, when John poked his head in.

  ***

  “How are you?” he asked me as we walked downtown to a little fry shack called The Claw.

  “I’m ok,” I said. “You?”

  “Getting better,” he replied, trying to take my hand. I stopped him.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, and we walked in silence.

  I took a booth by the window while he ordered his lunch. He slid into the booth with a tray of fried food, and looked at me. He looked awful. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Though he had cleaned himself up, he still looked rumpled and worn out. He needed a haircut, and his David Bowie t-shirt had seen better days. I had never wanted to kiss him more than at that moment.

  “You look terrible,” I told him.

  “Thanks,” he answered. “I feel terrible.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “It turns outs, I can’t walk on water,” he replied cryptically.

  “Not many of us can,” I said.

  He took a bite of his cheeseburger, and I stared out the window. Students with book bags were heading to and from class.

  “Don’t you have chemistry right about now?” I asked him.

  “Yeah, I’ll get the notes from Ben.” He slid his tray of uneaten food aside, and placed his hands, palms up, on the table. I put my hands in his, and met his gaze.

  “It’s been four days, and I miss you,” he said.

  I let him sit in the silence between us, but I did not avert my eyes.

  “You haven’t been returning my calls,” he continued.

  “I’ve needed a few days to get my head together, figure things out,” I said.

  “I never would have done it, if I had known how things would turn out,” he interrupted.

  “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” I asked, feeling my anger rise. I tried to remain calm. I wanted to be the one in control. “How else could it have turned out? Unless you had planned on lying to me indefinitely.”

  “I never lied. I may not have said anything, but I never lied.”

  “A lie by omission is still a lie,” I said, turning my gaze back to the rush of student life outside. “You led me to believe something that wasn’t true, and that, by definition, is a lie.”

  He took his hands out from under mine. I looked back at him.

  “What is it you want, Greer?” I’ve said I’m sorry. If there’s nothing more I can do, tell me and I’ll leave you alone.”

  I don’t want to be left alone,” I said. I even surprised myself. What happened to being in control?

  “I think that’s the first real thing you’ve said to me,” he said, smiling slightly.

  “But I can’t just forget about it, either,” I continued. “So, I’m demoting you.”

  “Demoting me?” he asked with a puzzled look crinkling his strong Nordic features.

  “Friends,” I said. “That’s it. At least for now.”

  We were both quiet for a moment. The tension dissipated somewhat.

  “When will I be up for a promotion?” he asked, smiling the crooked smile that he knew made me crazy.

  I flashed my pearly whites right back at him. I was learning that a good offense was my best defense.

  “As soon as I’ve slept with someone else.”

  And don’t you know, that drove him absolutely mad.

  ***

  We spent the next three weeks as friends. I divided my time on Holt, second-long evenly between John and Topher’s rooms. I shot pool with the guys. I even went along to a room party, leaving behind the scowl and attitude from the past.

  It was basically the same group as before, minus Topher’s friend, Brett. They played games like Quarters and Asshole, while I looked on. I loved watching John when he did not know I was watching. The way his ashy blond curls fell over his eyes, how much larger and stronger he appeared than any other guy near him. I thought I would just nurse a beer or two; sip it slowly to drop the prissy reputation. I was so wrapped up in studying John that I lost track of how fast I was drinking my Milwaukee’s Best.

  Four beers later, when he took me aside to ask if I minded if they smoked weed, I said, “Hell, no!”

  He started laughing.

  “You’re drunk!” he stated loudly.

  “I’m not drunk,” I insisted. I did my best to focus and be serious. But it was no use; I burst out laughing.

  “I’m a little drunk,” I admitted in a loud whisper.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind if I smoke?” he asked again.

  “I’m not your keeper,” I said. I patted him on the head and stood up. It took all my strength to balance, and not fall on my ass.

  “I have to pee,” I announced, heading for the door.

  I heard them all laughing as I headed out into the bright light of the hall.

  ***

  Later that night, John walked me home.

  “Come inside,” I told him at the door of Wyndham, not wanting to let him go back into the night. He shook his head.

  “You’re drunk, Greer,” he said, tucking the hair behind my right ear. “You don’t really want me to do that.”

  “I am drunk!” I announced. He quickly shushed me. It was highly frowned upon by campus security, and John still had a bottle of vodka in his backpack. I laughed at his seriousness.

  “I am drunk,” I whispered loudly, smiling coyly at him. “All the more reason to make sure I get back to my room nice and safe, don’t you think?”

  “You are very bad, Greer,” he said. I saw his resolve crumbling.

  “I’m terrible,” I said, reaching in my coat pocket for my dorm key. “It’s what keeps you so interested in me.” I flung open the door. He stood, frozen, on the steps.

  “C’mon,” I persisted. “We’ll just watch Saturday Night Live, while I sober up. I’ll buy you a pizza,” I offered.

  “Well, for a pizza,” he said, smiling, and entering Wyndham.

  We watched the entire episode of SNL, even the last ten minutes that always suck. He laughed at me for picking the cheese off my pizza, and made me drink plenty of water.

  Molly was away with the crew team for the weekend, so I had my room to myself. When the TV went to test pattern, and both of us ran out of reasons to prolong the night, John made motions to leave. He stood in the middle of my floor, beat up leather jacket draped over his arm.

  “You don’t have to go,” I said to him. I was sitting on my desk. My feet were planted firmly on the seat of my chair. “And I’m not saying that because I’m drunk.”

  “What’s changed?” he asked.