To the Steadfast

by Briana Gaitan

  “Slow down there, Dakota lOMBARDI.” Mischa pokes his head up from the backseat and breathes heavily in my ear. He knows calling me by my full name annoys the crap out of me.

  “I’m trying to drive here. I suggest you sit back and relax, Mischa Cromwell,” I say between gritted teeth. Since I picked them up from their aunt’s house, Mischa has done nothing but backseat drive and make us listen to his depressing rock music.

  “What are we listening to?” I ask.

  “A Perfect Circle—this is real music not that boy band crap you listen to.”

  He tries to turn the stereo dials, but I swat his hand away.

  “I will cut you, Mischa. Touch it again, and I will leave you crying for your mommy.”

  “Wow, someone needs to pull a biscuit from their ass.”

  Violet and I exchange a disgusted look before she turns to ease the tension in the car.

  “Why are you so moody tonight?”

  Mischa scoffs. “No reason. So you’re supposed to have a date with Mr. Wonderful.”

  “Aaron,” I correct.

  “Wonderful Aaron.” He makes air quotes with his fingers. “You’re supposed to go on a date with him and he throws a party instead? What a jerk. Why are you forcing us to go back to this party with you? Just dump him already.”

  “Because my dad likes him,” I quip.

  “Is your dad dating him, too?” Mischa asks.

  Violet hides a snicker and pulls the mirror down from the roof to check her lipstick. “Cody likes to see her daddy happy. She thinks it will make him like her more.”

  “When did you become my fucking therapist?” I spit out, gripping the steering wheel.

  I speed up and veer off the highway towards Aaron’s place. When we get there, it’s even more crowded than before. Someone is hanging out of the upstairs window yelling and people are loitering on the lawn. A game of slip and slide is happening along the side of the house with a boogie board and a bunch of black trash bags.

  Aaron comes barreling up with arms wide as I pull in. “Babe, where have you been?”

  When the back door opens and Mischa stands, all six feet of him, Aaron stops short. He turns back to me and pulls me close for a kiss. It’s not a romantic kiss, it’s a ‘she’s mine’ type of kiss, a ‘back the fuck off’ kiss. No one would blame Aaron for acting overprotective, Mischa is well known throughout town for his antics. I feel Mischa’s eyes on me, so I let the kiss continue for longer than normal because a part of me wants him to see me as desirable. When Aaron pulls back, my face is flushed.

  “What’s up, man?” Aaron holds a hand out for Mischa. The two guys exchange a territorial glance for a brief second before Mischa’s eyes soften to his normal careless attitude.

  “Hey, you Cody’s boyfriend?”

  Aaron laughs. “Something like that.”

  Boyfriend is too broad a term. We’ve only been on a few dates, and our relationship hasn’t progressed further than a steamy make out session. My call, not his.

  Aaron puts an arm around me and walks us into the kitchen. Violet has already attached herself to the same guy from the night before, and Mischa has found a friend in the corner of the room to chat with.

  “Why are you hanging out with Mischa Cromwell?”

  Aaron hands me a drink and I throw it back before looking him in the eyes. “What do you care?”

  “I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone else. That’s all.”

  “I’m not. He’s Violet’s brother.” I turn away from him and stare out into the crowd. He’s suddenly become the least interesting person in the room. My eyes don’t leave Mischa as he makes his way through the party, high fiving a few classmates and getting a few hugs from some girls. The way he protected me this morning when that cop hit me, I don’t know. I liked it. It made me feel safe. Not that I don’t always feel safe with Mischa. He’s a constant in my life.

  “The guy was about to jump me when I kissed you.” Aaron takes a drink.

  “Stop being paranoid. I’ve known him a long time. Trust me, he doesn’t think of me that way.”

  “Mischa is bad news, Cody. I’m only looking out for you.”

  “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.” I slam my cup against his chest. “Besides, he’s not that bad.”

  “That’s what they all say.” He grabs my arm and tries to pull me toward the stairs. “Let’s go check out my room.”

  I pull away from him. Being alone with him is just another excuse to pressure me to sleep with him, and that’s not going to happen. “No, thank you.”

  “Why are you being such a tease, Cody?”

  “I don’t know, maybe it’s because I hardly know you. I told you I’m not ready to have sex with you.”

  He backs up with his hands in front of him. “I wanna be with you. Obviously, you don’t feel the same way. I’m gonna go get another drink.” He disappears into the crowd, leaving me completely shocked as to what just happened. This is totally going to be our last date.

  Walking over to a dartboard, I convince some kids from school to start a match of drinking darts. The rules are easy. If I hit the middle of the target, they take a shot and vice versa. Too bad I’m the queen of darts. I don’t know what it is about drinking games that I love so much. Maybe it’s the control or the competition or maybe it’s just a lame excuse to get drunk. I grab the darts and aim, swiftly throwing them through the air, each one hitting the middle circle of the board. All the guys groan as they pour themselves a shot. After a few rounds, I’m feeling good but bored.

  “Sorry, guys, I’m calling it a night.”

  I walk away before they can convince me to stay. Violet isn’t anywhere to be found, but I do see Mischa on the porch talking to some redhead. They’re laughing but when he sees me walking up, his face turns somber. He grabs my forearm in a protective stance.

  “Hey, have you seen Violet?” I ask.

  “Yeah, she went upstairs with some guy.”

  Typical reckless Violet. “And you let her go?”

  He holds his hands up. “I’m not her babysitter.”

  “Idiot,” I mutter. I push my way through the crowd to the stairs and grumble to myself as I start opening random doors. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the hall seems never ending. There have got to be at least five bedrooms in this place. The first bedroom is empty. I knock on the second, but it’s locked and I can’t get it open. The third and fourth bedrooms are occupied. The occupants were not Violet, and the sight of buck-naked classmates will be forever burned into my orbs. I check the bathroom, which has a line of three girls. The only room I haven’t checked is Aaron’s. A feeling of dread washes over me as I walk up to his door and listen. Someone is mumbling, but I can’t tell who. I ease the door open, which is unlocked, to see Aaron and some half-naked girl making out on his bed. I can’t be too mad, just last night I was making out with someone else, but he’s about to have sex with her. An hour ago he was trying to convince me to have sex with him.

  “Aaron!” I scream out. If anything, I want to make sure and ruin his hook up. “After everything we’ve been through. After giving your ex-girlfriend herpes and telling me we can’t have sex until you get it cleared up, you hook up with some random girl?”

  Aaron jumps off the bed and pulls up his pants. “You crazy bitch. I don’t have herpes.”

  I look past him at the girl on the bed. “He does, and it’s a bad case too. So I suggest you at least use a condom.”

  I fly down the stairs and push through the crowd of people before Aaron can finish getting dressed.

  As I hit the front porch, letting the screen door slam behind me, I yell at Mischa. “I gotta go. Can you find a ride home?”

  He crinkles his forehead. “Are you okay? Where are you going?”

  I turn around to answer him but am stopped short by Aaron bursting through the front door. His eyes are bulging from their sockets as he points to the street. “Get the hell out of my house.”

  I look around, eyes wid
e. “I’m out of your house, moron.”

  “Off my property, slut!”

  I burst out laughing. How ironic is it that being a virgin makes you a slut?

  In a split second, Mischa takes the three steps over from the other side of the porch and throws a punch, hitting him square in the jaw. Aaron falls to the ground and everyone steps back. I don’t want a fight. I don’t want Mischa to get jumped by Aaron and his band of pumped up football players. Aaron stands and gets in Mischa’s face. Both boys, fueled by testosterone, silently stare at each other. I can’t just sit here and do nothing so I run over and squeeze in between them.

  “Let’s just go, Mischa.” I look him straight in the eyes. His face is hard, mouth posed into a straight line, but he doesn’t move. Mischa can hold his own, but I don’t want him getting in trouble for hurting Aaron.

  Aaron grabs my ponytail, jerking my head backward, and throws me to the ground. I cry out as I land in the gravel, rocks scraping my hands and elbow. It takes a few seconds for me to gather my bearings, but when I turn around. Aaron is on the ground with Violet standing over him. She lifts her hand over her shoulder for a triumphant high five from Mischa. A crowd has gathered, and a few people grab me under the arms and pull me up. My knees wobble as I attempt to steady myself.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, wiping myself off. I wince when my hands touch the back of my pants and notice huge scrapes embedded with gravel on the palm of my right hand.

  “Ouch,” Violet says, grabbing my hand to assess the damage.

  “It’s nothing.” I pull away; I don’t want to be touched right now. Not after being attacked by a guy twice my size. “I’ll clean it up when I get home.” I bite my tongue to dull the pain and try my best to put on a strong face. “Thanks for hitting him.”

  “What are friends for?”

  I take a step but my knees give out and I fall on Violet’s shoulder.

  “You can’t drive. You’re too upset.” Violet motions at Mischa who is a few feet away talking to a group of girls. “Come drive Cody home.”

  “And he isn’t too upset?” I hiss, ignoring her and walking towards my car. Mischa steps in line beside me. There’s a worry line across his forehead, but he seems calmer than before.

  “Thanks for saving me back there, but just so you know. I can take care of myself,” I tell him.

  “Still, I would have kicked Mr. Wonderful’s butt for you.”

  Wiping away a stray tear, I lean against my BMW and kick a random clump of dirt on the ground. “He’s been pressuring me to have sex with him for a few weeks now. I just didn’t want my first time to be with someone like him.”

  “First time?” Mischa’s jaw drops then turns into a cocky grin. “Wow, I mean. I didn’t think...”

  I glare up at him, my eyes turning into dangerous crescent shapes. “Shut up.”

  His hand grazes the side of my cheek. “You’ve got some dirt here.”

  I hold my breath as he wipes it away. The way he’s looking at me, the hungry gaze, it makes me weak in the knees. This is what he does to me, all the time.

  “You’re right,” he continues. “Your first time should be with someone you care about, not some jerk your father likes.”

  As our moment gets a little too heated, I shove the keys against his chest and walk around to the passenger side. “You can drive. I’ve had way too much to drink.”

  I get inside, knowing that Mischa hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol. He doesn’t drink at parties, only because he starts acting like his father when he does. After a few too many violent drunken fights, Violet made him our eternal designated driver.

  Everything inside me knows I shouldn’t take Mischa home. As we drive away, there’s this unspoken sexual tension in the air. We both know where this is headed, but we don’t have to say it. Speaking the words might taint this. Those butterflies begin to flutter up in my stomach, the ones that make you feel like you’re on a roller coaster, and the high calms me.

  I live on the outskirts of Betty, just by the highway. It’s a nice home, filled with nice things and void of love. He pulls up to the front gates, puts in the code as I tell it to him and drives on.

  As we get out, Mischa races me to the door and lets out a low whistle as we enter.

  “Nice place.” He runs his finger along one of the gaudy abstract statues that line the entryway.

  “It’s home. I guess.”

  Sometimes I forget how different our upbringings were. Mischa and Violet have lived in the same run-down house their entire lives, barely making ends meet. I have lovely things, but not so lovely parents. Besides our sporadic family dinners, they live separate lives. My father thinks he can make up for his time away by giving me things. My BMW for one and free access to his credit cards.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says. I point him toward the upstairs guest bathroom, where we keep a first aid kit. I pull out the antiseptic ointments and bandages and set them on the marble counter.

  “Let me.” He takes the gauze pads from my hand but hesitates when he sees the ten different bottles of cleaners on the counter.

  “Wash your hands first,” I demand.

  He pumps the soap in his hands and rinses them off before holding them up for my inspection.

  “Wonderful, now use the saline solution in the squirt bottle.” I hold my hand out over the sink for him.

  “Like this?” He squirts it over the scratches on my hand.

  “Try and make sure the gravel is gone.” He spends a few more moments cleaning my hand before looking up at me.

  “I think I got it from here,” he says, drying my hand with some gauze. He finishes by using the liquid bandage. “Sometimes my dad would come home all beat up after a drunken bar fight and I’d have to clean him up so Mom didn’t find out about it.”

  When I pull my hand away, I’m not sure what to say. I knew his Dad used to get violent which makes me happy that Mischa hardly drinks. Violet, on the other hand, won’t stay away from the stuff.

  “Thank you.”

  “It was partly my fault anyway. You were trying to get me to back down.”

  I stroke his cheek with the back of my hand. “I didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

  He licks his lips. “He wouldn’t have hurt me.”

  “I know, but I invited you to have fun.”

  He puts his hand on mine and kisses the back of it. “It’s okay. I really didn’t feel like a party anyway.”

  “Miss your parents?”

  He chuckles. “No, not exactly. I’d just rather be hanging out with you, that’s all.”

  “Me?” I whisper. We’re friends, but I didn’t think I was the first person he’d choose to hang out with.

  “So don’t take this the wrong way, but I used to think you were as fleeting and careless as Violet, but you aren’t like her other friends. You act like you care, and when I see people pushing you around like that damn cop yesterday. It pisses me off.”

  “I seriously thought he was going to kill me.” I mean it as a joke, but we both know it isn’t. The cop had no right to hit me and put a gun in my face. I touch the bump on my temple, now covered by a pound of makeup and lean forward, trying to steady my ever-increasing breath. Panic takes over as I remember what it felt like. I believed those were going to be my final moments.

  “Calm down, Cody.” He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. I wince as he bumps my bruise. “You in pain? Do your parents have any good drugs?”

  “Um…my dad is a doctor. So probably?”

  I’m lying. My mom keeps a whole pharmacy locked in her medicine cabinet. She takes everything for stress, nerves, anxiety. It’s no wonder she hasn’t gotten caught yet.

  “Where?”

  I point to the room across the hallway, the master suite.

  Mischa jumps off the bed and heads straight for my parent’s room. He goes into the adjoining bathroom while I sit on the flowered comforter. I hear him struggling with the lock before he comes bac
k with a few bottles.

  “Valium.” He singsongs the word like he’s just found candy. He opens the bottle and dumps a few blue pills in his hand. “These will help you forget.”

  “No, thanks. I draw the line at pot.”

  He places a few in my hand and gives me a wide-toothed grin. “I’ll stay with you. Make sure nothing happens.”

  Everything that’s happened. The drug bust, the party, my aching body, I want to forget it all. Maybe this will help.

  He counts out ten and closes the bottle. “If you snort them, it’ll be more fun.”

  “No, thank you. My Nona made me sit through too many Dateline specials as a kid.”

  “What are you scared of? You drink.”

  I scoff. “I drink to loosen up.”

  He sits on the bed next to me and places five of the pills in my hand. “Get high with me. It’ll take the pain away. I promise.”

  It’s a tempting offer. I drink to feel free, but can I take the pills to forget the things I do when I drink?

  Only once, why not?

  I take a few pills and put them in my mouth. I walk into the bathroom and put my mouth under the faucet and swallow. When I return to the bedroom, Mischa is already crushing the remaining pills on the dresser with a credit card. He rolls up a dollar bill and snorts a line. When he’s finished, he hands me the dollar.

  “You’ll feel it faster this way.”

  What the hell, I’ve already gone this far. I bend down and try to mimic the moves I saw him do just moments ago.

  He moves behind me, his hands traveling down my arms to position me in just the right way.

  “Harder,” he whispers.

  I try not to laugh, but eventually I’m able to get most of the powder up my nose. I expect it to burn, but my muscles relax as a bitter taste runs down my throat and numbs my tongue. I lean against the wall, enjoying it.

  “Do you feel it?” he whispers in my ear. He licks his finger and picks up the rest of the powder. He sticks his finger in my mouth, filling me with a mixture of sweetness and bitterness.

  I nod, letting my body relax, as he slowly pulls his finger from my mouth with a pop. The pressure I carry everyday loosens its grip on my throat, and I can breathe. I feel happy. Unable to find the words to describe my body, I turn around and press my lips against his. Tingling shoots through my frame at the impact. His lips are soft, full, and exactly as I imagined. It’s gentle at first, but after the waters are tested, it becomes frantic, needy.