My Life as a Rhombus

by Varian Johnson

  “It’s okay.” I tried to cover my chest with one arm, while I pulled up my jeans with my free hand. This scene was also very familiar, and very distasteful.

  David kept his gaze off of me, allowing me some dignity as my hands fumbled through the darkness, searching for my missing clothes. I found my bra sandwiched between the cushions of the couch. My blouse was on the floor, balled up in a heap.

  I wasn’t sure which of us felt more ashamed. I knew David felt like he did something wrong, even though he didn’t do anything I didn’t allow him to do. But I, on the other hand, got so caught up in the moment that I almost threw away everything I had worked so hard for. I was a good girl now. I didn’t do stuff like this anymore, even with guys I really liked. It was too dangerous.

  While I finished getting dressed, David went across the room and retrieved his shirt. I got up and walked to him, but he still wasn’t looking at me. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and convince him it was okay, but I didn’t. Maybe because it really wasn’t okay. We had almost crossed a line we weren’t even supposed to be close to.

  “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I doubt it. I think Sarah and I are meeting at Gail’s house to study.”

  By the way he slumped his shoulders, I knew he didn’t hear the answer he was hoping for. But I couldn’t see him tomorrow. Tomorrow was too soon.

  David reached out and kissed me. I began to get that wonderfully warm feeling I usually got, but I suppressed it. I forced myself to feel cold. I willed my lips to turn to stone.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “I hope you’re not mad at me.”

  “It’s okay,” I whispered back. “I’m not angry with you.”

  It was true—I wasn’t angry with my boyfriend. I was angry with myself.

  I got home five minutes before curfew. Like I expected, Dad wasn’t home. He didn’t even call. When two o’clock came and went, I knew he wasn’t coming home that night. Jackie had gotten her hooks into him, and he wouldn’t resurface until early in the morning.

  I tossed and turned in bed, my thick comforter shielding me from the chill of my room. I had ten pillows on my bed, but none of them felt comfortable underneath me. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt David’s lips on my skin, his hands on my body. For a quick instant, I felt wonderful. Immediately afterwards, I was flooded with guilt and remorse.

  Why did I let David touch me like that? Why did I have to like it so much? Things were much less complicated when we just held hands.

  I had felt the same way after I first slept with Christopher. But at least then I could blame some of my stupidity on ignorance. I knew exactly what would happen at David’s house, and I still put myself in that situation.

  It was on a Saturday afternoon when I first slept with Christopher. It was a bright and sunny December day. For a few weeks, he had been promising to throw me a romantic picnic. Why he wanted to have a picnic in the wintertime, I didn’t know. But he did, and like a fool, I bought into the idea.

  The day was cool, but not cold. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I felt like it was a perfect day for a perfect picnic with a perfect boyfriend.

  Christopher picked me up in his mother’s Saab. He had some old love songs playing on the stereo. He even opened the car door for me. We found a quiet, secluded corner of the park to set up his red-checkered picnic blanket, just like in the movies.

  The day was going according to plan (well, according to my plan), until he brought out a bottle of red wine. It was fruity and sweet, and before I knew it we had emptied the bottle. And then, he said the magic words I was longing to hear.

  I love you.

  It was only a few minutes after he uttered those words that we were in the back seat of the car. We had gotten pretty hot and heavy before, but we hadn’t gotten to the point where we were taking off clothes. At least, not until that day.

  I was tipsy, but I wasn’t drunk. I could have easily stopped him, but I didn’t want to. He loved me. And I loved him. And I knew I would be with him forever.

  Fast-forward a few months. We had broken up, and I was pregnant with his child.

  As I agonized over how every little detail of my evening with David mimicked my first time, night transformed into morning. A new day was born right in front of my heavy, red, sleep-deprived eyes. Just like last time.

  I finally forced myself to get out of bed and face my day. A huge stack of blueberry pancakes was calling my name, and I was in no position to argue with my appetite.

  Just as I was pouring the homemade batter onto the griddle, I heard Dad’s car pull into the yard. It was a little after six o’clock, and I knew he expected me to be asleep. He almost jumped out of his skin when he opened the door and saw me at the stove.

  “Rhonda!” Dad yelled, clutching his chest. “What are you doing up this early in the morning?”

  I shrugged. “I was hungry.”

  Dad had a guilty look on his face as he glanced at his watch. He was caught, red-handed. But he wasn’t a teenage girl, so it must have been okay.

  Dad trudged over to the stove, but of course he didn’t come in physical contact with me. “Smells good,” he said, sniffing the air.

  I flipped over the pancake before stirring up the batter. “You want some?”

  “No, I’m not hungry.”

  Dad, not hungry? The only time he didn’t eat was when he was in a great mood. I glanced at the makeup stains on his jacket. He must have had a very good night.

  Dad coughed a few times and rubbed the back of his neck. “How was your date?”

  My hand froze in place, hovering over the bowl of batter. More than anything, I wanted to bolt out of that room, but my legs felt like they were cast in concrete. I was stuck. I was helpless.

  “It went fine,” I said.

  “How was the movie?”

  “Okay.”

  “I was thinking,” he began, stepping toward me. “Maybe we could catch a movie this afternoon. Just me and you.”

  I kept my gaze glued to the stove. “I have plans.”

  “Then maybe next weekend?”

  “Maybe.”

  Dad stared at me in silence for a few moments as I flipped a pancake. Finally, he sighed. “How long are we going to do this?”

  A lump formed in my throat. I poked at the cooking pancake with my spatula, just to keep my hands busy. “Do what?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” he said. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry before you forgive me?”

  I didn’t answer him, because I didn’t know.

  He continued to stand there, not saying anything. Then he stepped toward me and tried to wrap his arms around my shoulders. I pulled away.

  Dad dropped his hands to his side. “I’ll be in my room, if you need me.”

  I nodded, and Dad left the room. And there I was, alone with my food. Just like last time.

  By the time I emerged from my room on Monday morning, I knew what I had to do about David. As much as I hated to admit it, the postulates were never wrong. Guys like him weren’t to be trusted. Rather, I wasn’t to be trusted around guys like him. I was so close to graduation. I couldn’t risk messing everything up for a silly high school romance.

  I had to break up with him. It was the logical thing to do.

  I decided to try to avoid David at school—it would be easier to break the news over the phone. When I got to school that morning, I headed straight to the library. During lunch, I camped out in my car and ate celery sticks. And after the final school bell rang, I spent an extra thirty minutes in class, just so I could wait him out. But apparently I didn’t procrastinate for long enough, because David was waiting for me at my locker.

  As soon as I saw him, I froze. He leaned against the lockers, his blue
blazer draped over his arm. He didn’t see me immediately, and for a second, I thought about turning around and running off in the opposite direction.

  But then he noticed me, and a bright, large smile came to his face. I felt myself smiling and forced myself to stop. I took a deep breath and marched to my locker.

  “Hey,” David said as he stood upright and straightened his tie. He looked down at me, but I refused to meet his gaze.

  “Hello,” I replied as coolly as I could. I opened my locker and began shoving textbooks into my bookbag.

  “I tried to call you yesterday.”

  “I was busy.” I peeked at David out of the corner of my eye. A frown had crept upon his face.

  I grabbed my last book and slammed my locker shut. “I’d better get out of here. I’ve got to get to the community center.”

  “That’s it?” David asked. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

  “We’ll talk more tonight.”

  I walked off, hoping he wouldn’t follow, but of course, he ran up beside me. “Rhonda, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Like I said before, I’ve been busy.”

  David jumped in front of me and forced me to stop. “But we haven’t talked all day.” He leaned close to me and tried to kiss my cheek, but I sidestepped him.

  David sighed. “Is this about Saturday night?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Because if it is, I’m sorry about—”

  “I’m going to be late,” I said. “I have to go.”

  I started to back away, but after a couple of steps, David grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. He drew me into his arms, and I momentarily fell in love with him all over again.

  “Please tell me what’s going on,” he whispered.

  I choked on my own hesitancy. How could I explain what I was feeling? David was great—almost too great. I liked him so much, it was like I had no willpower when I was around him. It was just like when I was with Christopher. And no matter how I felt about David, I couldn’t put myself in that situation again.

  I pulled myself out of David’s arms. “I can’t do this.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I crossed my arms and pretended to be strong. “I don’t think you and I are going to work out.”

  David was quiet for a few seconds. The wrinkles around his eyes exposed his confusion over everything. One minute, we were the perfect couple—the next minute, we were breaking up.

  “Rhonda, I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying that! It’s not your fault!”

  “Rhonda—”

  “David, please. It was nice while it lasted, but we both knew this relationship wasn’t going anywhere. We’ll be graduating in six weeks, and three months after that, we’ll both be in college.”

  David’s head dropped. He exhaled, and slowly nodded. And just like that, it was done. We were officially over.

  “I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” he said.

  I fought back the tears that were trying to escape from behind my eyes. “I guess so.”

  “But we’ll still be friends, right?”

  “Of course,” I said as my voice began to crack. With every passing second, it was getting harder for me to hold back the tears. As soon as I felt my lips trembling, I knew I had to get out of there.

  David must have sensed my fragile state, because he immediately stepped closer to me. “Maybe if we just talk things over … ?”

  “Talking won’t do any good.” I stared at my feet, because I knew I would take back every word I said if I looked at him. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  After an eternity of silence, David finally stepped away from me. “Then I’ll see you around.”

  I nodded. “See you around.”

  I turned and left David standing alone in the hallway. And I was just lucky enough to make it to my car before the floodgates opened and I burst into tears. I thought I would never cry as much as I did when Christopher broke up with me.

  I was wrong.

  Although I tried my best to ignore it, I could feel Helen’s gaze fixated on me as I flipped through old magazines at her kitchen table. I had come over to her house every other night for the past two weeks—ever since my break-up with David. I had been working on my artwork so much, I was afraid my fingertips would be permanently covered in glue.

  “Why are you staring at me?” I finally asked, as I closed a magazine and picked up a catalog.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Helen said. “It’s your prom night.”

  “I never found a dress.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You stopped looking.”

  “I didn’t have a reason to keep looking, remember.”

  Helen went back to reading her book. But she couldn’t have read more than two words before she slammed the book shut and dropped it on the table.

  I sighed. “I guess you want to talk.”

  Helen’s face was almost as red as her hair. “You need to talk to someone. You haven’t had a real conversation with your father in over a month. And I bet you haven’t said five words to David since y’all broke up.”

  I frowned. “You should be happy. Things are finally back to normal.”

  “Things haven’t been normal for a long time.”

  “You know what I mean.” I pushed the catalog away from me. “Like I said before I even started dating David, I don’t have time for a boyfriend. I have to focus on my grades.”

  “Rhonda, you made all As last semester.”

  “I can always do better.”

  Helen rose from her seat. “And what about your father? He’s really trying to reach out to you. But if you don’t forgive him, and soon, you’re going to lose him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I lost my father years ago. Ever since he made me get that abortion—”

  Helen slammed her fist on the counter. “Stop using that as an excuse!”

  I almost fell out of my seat. “What?”

  “It was three years ago. You can’t keep using that excuse to push people away.” Helen shook her head and muttered to herself as she began pulling pots and pans out of the cabinets.

  I walked over to Helen and planted myself behind her. “And why not?”

  She slowly turned around, and a crooked, melancholy smile came to her face. “If you keep it up, you’ll always be alone.”

  I dropped my gaze to the floor. “I like being alone.”

  Helen turned to the stove. “Maybe I should keep my mouth shut. You want to be an adult? You want to make your own decisions? Then go ahead and keep doing what you’re doing.” She yanked open a drawer and pulled out a fistful of silverware.

  “Listen, Helen—”

  Before I could continue, the phone rang. Helen slipped past me and picked up the phone. A frown came to her face. “Hey, Gail,” she said into the phone. “Do you want to talk to Rhonda?”

  After a long pause, Helen’s frown deepened. “I see,” she said. “Okay, I’ll tell her.”

  By now, I was at Helen’s side. But instead of handing me the phone, she hung it up, with a dumbfounded look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Helen blinked as if she was coming out of a trance. “Grab your keys,” she said. “Sarah just went into labor.”

  I rushed out of the elevator and headed down the white, medicine-filled hallway. My stomach was twisted into a pretzel and my mouth tasted like chalk. Did Sarah really go into labor? Was the baby alright?

  I marched toward the nurse’s station, but froze once I saw David standing at the counter. I was pretty far away from him, but I could hear his voice booming throughout the hallway. A nurse was standing in front of him, doing her best to calm him down. He just shook his head and slapped his hand against the cou
nter.

  I quickened my pace. If David didn’t quiet down, he was going to get himself thrown out of the hospital.

  “Why can’t you tell me anything?” he demanded of the nurse. “They told me she was transferred to a room up here.”

  The nurse glanced down at a clipboard. She looked like she needed to be admitted to a hospital, the way her cheeks hung on her face. She reminded me of a human bulldog.

  “Like I said before, I don’t have any information at this time.” The nurse pointed to a room in the corner. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”

  “But can’t I see her now? I’m her brother.”

  The nurse glared at David. “Listen here—”

  “We’ll wait for the doctor,” I said, raising my voice and stepping beside David. “We’re just anxious.”

  David stared at me for a few seconds, not saying anything. Then he sighed and turned back to the nurse. “We’ll wait for the doctor.”

  The nurse rolled her eyes and left the counter. David looked back at me and smiled nervously.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice now quiet. He drummed his fingers on the countertop. “You got the message?”

  I nodded. “Gail called me a few minutes ago.” I looked at his lanky fingers as they tapped against the counter. I almost reached out and grabbed his hand. Almost.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” I continued. “But you were yelling, and—”

  “And I needed to calm down,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “That’s what friends are for, right?”

  We continued to stare at each other. A nuclear explosion could have gone off and we wouldn’t have noticed.

  “I was playing basketball when I got a message from Sarah,” he said. “I got here as soon as I could.”

  “Playing basketball? You weren’t getting ready for the prom?”

  He shook his head and smirked. “My date backed out on me.”

  It took a second, but I finally realized he was talking about me. I frowned and focused my attention on the white, tiled floor.

  “I was trying to be funny,” he mumbled. “You know, to break the tension.”