Forever Love

by Chelsea Landon

  When I get back to my dorm, I go into the bathroom that separates my room from Jenny’s dorm. We always keep the bathroom doors open. I feel like I’m not alone that way.

  Jenny’s on her bed with a book in her face. She’s studying and I know it’s something I should be doing, but I can’t muster the energy to be concerned about studying.

  Jenny and I have been roommates since freshman year. I’m sure she’s used to my spiral down this dark path. The deeper in I go, the more she overlooks. She knows who I fuck and she knows how bad I fuck my life up. What she doesn’t know is why. And I don’t think I have to tell her. Some things that don’t need explaining. This is one of them.

  September 19, 2013

  The house is crowded, so many people that you can barely move. My eyes are heavy, my skin feels prickly under my hoodie that I keep pulled over my head. The air smells of weed and stale beer. A loud bass kicks and pounds in my head.

  I’m wandering in a room that’s dark and suffocating.

  No direction.

  No nothing.

  I’m craving.

  Jay reaches for me and takes me to the back of the house. Each room we pass, people are either fucking or shooting up. When we get inside the room, we sit down on the couch near the window. Jay reaches inside the drawer beside his bed and then comes back over to me. I watch his black shoes as they drag against the old wooden floor that creaks as he steps. Jay’s house is about a mile off campus. Usually it’s filled with people. Some I recognize, others I don’t and it’s never the same crowd aside from a few regulars.

  Jay’s eyes are half open as his knee touches mine on the old burnt red couch, his breathing heavy. “Who’s that from?”

  I touch the spot over my collarbone with my fingertips. “You.” I lie, keeping my head down. There’s no sense in looking at him now.

  I lift my eyes to the tattoos that cover his skin and the round black earrings he wears. My gaze travels lower to the ripped black Pearl Jam t-shirt to the black jeans that fray at the heels.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek waiting for his response. He leans forward and lays out the white powder in front of him and then pulls out his credit card.

  Jay rubs his nose, runs the back of his hand over his thick dark beard, and leans forward again chopping rails on the glass table, his long lashes fluttering as he shakes his head. Raising his hand and tipping his DC hat up and knocking it off his head behind his back. “Sure it is.”

  Jay knows I’m not only fucking him. He’d have to be stupid to think that and he’s far from stupid, he’s a drug dealing businessman and knows when people are trying to lie their way out of something. I don’t know much about him other than he’s around thirty and can get you the shit you crave. That’s all I need to know. Unfortunately, being here, with him, I see things I don’t care to see. I see the danger that lurks in this house and how deep you can be pulled under.

  Then I wonder, have I already gotten as deep as one can go with Jay?

  Jay’s strange to me. He’s scary as hell and definitely not someone you want to piss off but for some reason, when he lets you see his eyes, there’s a gentleness to them you wouldn’t expect. I doubt many of his clients see this side of him; however, I also doubt many of his clients are paying their habit in sexual favors either.

  His breathing evens out, he finally raises his head, his face blank. “Who’s the guy you fuck in your dorm room?”

  Jay doesn’t talk. We’ve never actually had a conversation. It’s mostly one-sided. He gives me what I need and tells me how things are going to go.

  I swallow, afraid, my heart in my ears, his question met with silence at first. The last thing I want is Cash brought into anything to do with Jay. I also know I shouldn’t lie. He already caught me in one.

  “Cash.”

  He has no reply and turns his focus ahead of him.

  There’s absolutely no sense in lying to Jay. He knows everything. He knows exactly who Cash is too.

  He leans forward and takes the rolled up twenty between his index finger and his thumb and does his line. Rubbing his nose, he leans back on the couch staring up at the ceiling and nudges my knee with the back of his hand, then nods to the table where a second line is waiting for me.

  I look down at his hands that have the word “dark” on his left hand and “ness” on the right.

  How ironic.

  I want to say no to what’s in front of me. I don’t want to do cocaine. I never have. But once I did, it’s hard to stop. If I deny the offer, he will be upset with me. I’m controlled in more ways than I can understand. He’s offering and if you don’t take him up on it, he gets offended. You don’t offend Jay Lucas.

  He watches carefully as I do my line, the rush instant and burning. I sit there with my hands on my knees until he moves beside me.

  He stands uncertainly, his hand on the back of his neck seeming rattled for a half a second. It confuses me how his moods change, let’s me see that he’s unstable in ways I’ll never understand.

  He nods to the room.

  I have a choice here. I don’t believe I do but there is one.

  I go because that’s how this works. He gives me what I need—because I can’t afford it otherwise—and I lay there while he takes what he needs.

  When he’s finished, my sadness for what I’ve let myself become rolls down my cheeks.

  I should leave.

  Instead I’m left staring at the ceiling when I hear the click of his lighter and the familiar first drag. I’m spinning out of control, the room with it, my stomach burns and my throat feels like it’s on fire. As I lay there, images of Cash rush through my mind, so quickly I can’t see them, but they’re there. There are flashes, years of what we had, what we’d become and what we might have been if not for the darkness that hangs over our forever.

  I feel dirty, like even if I was to shower, I’d still feel dirty for what I just did.

  Jay’s hand reaches for me shaking my shoulder. “You need to leave. I have to meet someone.”

  He stands, his bare ass disappearing into the dim lighting of the bathroom. The door slams behind him, I raise up on my elbows and breathe in, trying to steady the beat in my chest. It’s steady, a pulsating beat. My stomach burns, I feel the acid rolling, my body’s fighting me and what I’m doing to it.

  Twisting to the side, I lean down to retrieve my clothes from the floor. When I bend down, I see the drop of blood land on the cream carpet. My hands fly to my nose. I leave my shirt off and instead just wear my bra out of his room. The door creaks when I open it. A couple on the couch are fucking. They barely notice me; his bare ass on display and her eyes closed as if she’s dead to the world. She may be judging by the used needle on the floor.

  My stomach turns again. I can’t believe I’m doing this shit to myself.

  I keep one hand pressed to my face and use the other to button my jeans and slip my shoes on. I bend to tie them and I can feel the blood draining in my mouth now. The more I move, the more I start to shake. The front door slams behind me and I’m walking up the street, barely dressed.

  I get to the road and stumble into the ditch. I sit there for a while because I hate myself and this is where I feel I should be.

  On the ground.

  In it.

  Beneath it.

  I start shaking hard and I think I see my chest moving, beating, and it stings. It feels like it can’t beat fast enough, yet, should be stronger.

  I should call Landon, instead I walk the two miles in the middle of the night to the gas station and then take a bus back to campus.

  When I get to my dorm room, my nose has finally stopped bleeding. Jenny’s asleep, the dorm is dark, much like my head. Exactly like my forever.

  September 20, 2013

  I’m sitting at my window, staring out it at nothing in particular, as smoke drifts through the small crack when Cash sends me a text. It’s not often that I see Cash during the normal hours of the day. And though it’s only six PM
, he’s done this before.

  Maybe it’s him making an effort.

  I want to make an effort too. But I also don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have. I’m not good for someone like him anymore.

  Dinner?

  I stare at the text for a few minutes. We haven’t been to dinner since freshman year. Then I remember a comment he made the other morning when he was leaving that I needed to eat more.

  Trying to make me fat? It feels good to joke with him.

  I like something to grab.

  I laugh. Sure. Where?

  Well I like to grab your ass. You know that.

  I meant dinner.

  Lol, I know. Be there in a minute.

  It wasn’t always like this with us. It’s just sort of evolved into this. Freshman year, even after everything at prom, we actually went on dates but never classified anything as “dating,” it was more of the occasional dinner, party together, and fucking. Then I got high, fucked around, and pulled away from him because I didn’t want to hurt him. He willingly let me go and gave me space.

  Sophomore year was the same only after football season, we legitimately tried to date and have a relationship. Didn’t work. Once football camp rolled around, it wasn’t the same and I slipped away. I found comfort in others when I didn’t get it from Cash.

  They didn’t expect anything from me. Cash, well, he didn’t either but I still felt guilty.

  When he knocks moments later, my heart beats a little faster knowing he’s on the other side of the door. There’s a fraction of a moment before I open the door that I imagine our lives to be different. I imagine that we’re together again and that night never happened. I imagine I didn’t ruin our lives when I handed Landon that joint or drank straight from the bottle because I couldn’t wait. I imagine that I didn’t almost sleep with his best friend and lose mine.

  But then I open the door and I see his eyes. The bright blue that meets me changes things for me. It’s adorable in ways only Cash can be. When I look at him, that light brown hair that sticks up in the front, those dark brooding eyebrows that crease when he’s nervous, that’s when I know that everything is different and nothing will ever be the same again. Because of me.

  He smiles softly when he comes inside and sits on my bed flipping through my History of Motion text book.

  “I’m failing.” I say, shrugging.

  He nods. “Need help? I took that class last year because I thought it was interesting.”

  “That’s okay.” The last thing I want is for him to feel like he has to do this. “You’re busy with football.”

  Right now, this is the most interaction we’ve had in almost a year.

  Cash nods, staring at the floor, seeming to know I don’t want him to help me and not pushing the issue. “Dinner?”

  “I really should study.”

  “It’s just food.” He nods again, and then looks up at me standing near the window as if he knows that but he’s wanting something from me. More than what I usually give him. He didn’t come for just sex this time. “Just let me take you to dinner, please?”

  He said please.

  That isn’t something I can ignore easily. Not when it’s coming from him.

  It certainly doesn’t feel like it’s just food.

  “Okay. I guess I gotta eat.”

  He laughs throwing my sweatshirt that’s beside my bed at me.

  When we get to the Taylor’s Bar & Grill, I’m glad I took that Vicodin earlier. Seeing girls instantly hanging all over him isn’t easy, regardless of how undefined we are. But it’s the way it is with us lately. I’m in the shadows and he’s center field where he belongs.

  He walks in ahead of me but reaches for my hand when we get to the door. I feel safe when he touches me like this, warmth enveloping my body instead of the all-encompassing cold I live with daily.

  Just before he opens the door, a group to our left calls his name as they sit outside in the green plastic chairs reserved for outside dining. He gives them a nod, never letting go of my hand as we’re led to a table in the back, his eyes on the televisions that line the wall above the bar.

  When he lets go of my hand to take a seat, that’s when I feel the warmth leave me.

  Everyone stops by to congratulate him on the game against Tennessee. They won 56-14. I watched the entire game from this very bar last Saturday night so I have an idea of what they are talking about. Cash threw for an impressive 456 yards with four touchdowns.

  “That’s amazing!” One tall brunette says to her boyfriend when he tells her about the yards. She has no idea what he’s referring to but she’s impressed by Cash and smiles, her eyes never meeting mine.

  Cash is low key. He’s always modest when it comes to his playing ability, and though he’s the captain of the team, you’ll never hear him say he’s the best player. He doesn’t believe that even for a second.

  “It’s pretty cool,” he says, giving the guy standing beside him an autograph on a beer coaster. They take a photo with Cash and then they leave.

  Tonight isn’t any different than it ever is with him. Since his freshman year here, he’s been this school’s superstar. They worship him in ways he could have never imagined coming from such a small town like Canby. It isn’t too hard to be a superstar back home, but at a university where tens of thousands of students and faculty know your name and high five you randomly walking around campus, yeah, that’s a big deal.

  A cheerleader comes by, Amber Kadence, her hands lingering over the chest I used to lay my head on and watch the night fade to morning. Her hair is perfect, her body toned and eyes bright. So different from me with the messy hair pulled back in a bun, baggy clothes, and tired eyes. I feel like when I see him like this, surrounded by people and girls who pine for him that I’m in the way. An obligation he feels entitled to watch over.

  Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t bother with me.

  Sometimes I wonder why he does.

  Sometimes… I’m thankful he does.

  “Nice game, Cash.” Her pretty brown eyes flutter to mine. She knows Cash doesn’t belong to me but she’ll never understand just how much he and I control each other.

  Cash looks up at her, winks and smiles. “Thanks, Amber.”

  He’s always polite. I don’t think he knows anything else.

  I shift my eyes from them, I don’t want to see this. It hurts to see it firsthand but I have no say. I’ve created this monster, fed it. My unwillingness to move on from the past keeps this monster’s vice-like hands around me. The longer I watch him and the endless flow of students congratulating him and talking about the game, I see what kind of person he is.

  Cash is different than most college football players. Even Colton and Jet, hell, even Landon. Nothing rattles him like it should. He’s extremely focused on the field. Off the field, he has a 4.0 and still manages to be the star quarterback. Naturally everyone looks to him wondering where the fault lies. We all have them, some just hide it better than others.

  He has one. And it’s me.

  I’m the disease slowly killing him.

  There’s a break in the crowd as I’m picking at my fries. That’s when I ask, “Are you having sex with her?”

  Cash looks down at the bill on the table and then up at me.

  I reach inside my purse and pull out a twenty. “You don’t have to pay for me.”

  Cash doesn’t answer. He watches my reaction to his silence and slides the money back at me.

  “No.” He answers taking a drink of his water and then gives a nod at the door.

  “No, what?”

  “No, I haven’t slept with her.”

  I’m relieved somewhat.

  What if he did? How would I feel about that?

  We’re walking back to the dorms when I slip off the sidewalk and into the street where I lay down between the center lines.

  “Do you think of dying, Cash?” He looks back and sees I’m not behind him.

  “Come on, Madison, get
up.” He jogs over and reaches down grabbing my hand. “Don’t mess around.”

  I don’t move. Instead I stay lying in the street letting the rain hit my face as I look up at the sky. I wonder what Steven was thinking that night when he knew he was dying. When he watched us watching him die? Did he feel pain? Was he sad? Were there things he wanted to say and didn’t?

  “Just lay here with me.” I say, looking over at him.

  “No.” He turns away and walks to the sidewalk. “Get out of the street.”

  Cash doesn’t like to think of that night. This reminds him of it. I can feel his body tense from where I stand on the street.

  “Why is everything with you so planned?” I ask getting up and taking the five steps it takes to reach him on the curb. He stares down at me as I speak, searching my eyes for the answer to my crazy ways. “Don’t you ever just want to live right now?”

  “I am living right now.” He turns again and starts walking back to the dorms. Our steps crunch the falling leaves, the cool fall night slaps at my face with a spray of mist. It rains here a lot. Not as much as Seattle, but in the fall it rains. I like the rain. I’ll even get up in the middle of the night to go walk in it just so I can feel the water on my skin.

  It’s refreshing.

  It’s calming.

  We get to the dorm, standing near the bike racks and Cash hesitates for a half a second. He’s not sure whether he should follow me or not when we reach the cafeteria. He decides not and then gives me a wink and heads toward the elevators down the hall. I go the opposite direction. We both live in the same building on the east side of the campus, only Cash is on the other side and lives with Saylor, the center on his team.

  We part ways and once inside my dorm, I see Jenny’s still up. I peek over there when I close the door to the bathroom. She’s concentrating on her midterms that I needed to be studying for too.

  I have to write a five-to-eight-page paper reviewing a journal article on any subject that deals with cognitive psychology. I knew I was going to do the paper on False Memory Syndrome, I just didn’t have the energy to do it now.