So . . . That Happened

by Laci Maskell

  I look down the hall to see Jesse walking towards me. “Hey,” I say to him.

  “Where have you been? You’re missing the whole party. Were you in your room?”

  “Yeah. I was sick in there, too much to drink I guess. Let’s go down stairs.”

  “Hell yeah, man. I only came up here to find you.”

  “You are a true friend,” I tell him deadpan.

  “The best,” he slurs. Clearly he has had one too many to drink.

  Jesse claps me on the shoulder and leads me down the stairs, right to the keg. Plastic cups are placed in our hands. I down mine, wanting to forget the last hour, and replace it with a full one. We make our way into the living room where I am slapped in the face by the image of Amelia with her tongue down some guy’s throat. I throw back the contents of my cup and leave the room to find another. When I have downed two in a row and am reaching for my third, a hand reaches out and stretches over my new cup.

  My head snaps over to find Jesse. “Wow, man. I’m all for getting trashed, but don’t you think you’re going a little fast?”

  “You’re the one who said I was missing the whole party,” I say defensively, a snicker on my face. “I’m just making up for lost time.”

  Jesse cocks his head and says, “By all means, don’t let me stand in your way.”

  I feel like a heaping pile of shit and I just want to drink the feeling away. Forget what I’ve done.

  “Why aren’t you making out with Amelia, instead of letting some random dude do it?” I ask him. My best friend has always had a thing for my girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend in this case. I’ve never had any hard feelings though. If anyone has that right, it’s Jesse. Technically I stole Amelia from him. Well, she was never really his, but I still could have handled it differently.

  I could have handled a lot differently.

  Whatever, I need another drink. I walk through the foyer towards the kitchen when I see a figure coming down the stairs. It’s her. How pathetic am I? I can’t even bring myself to say, let alone think her name. And I called her pretty girl. Fuck. I stop and watch her decent. She looks around the party. Looks at the faces. When she spots me, she misses a step and almost trips down the stairs. But she makes a quick recovery. She stares at me. Holds my gaze. A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead into my left eye. It stings. Just like her stare. I want so badly to look away. But it would make me look weak, and I’m not weak. She scowls at me but looks as if she could cry. I feel bad for her. She shakes her head at me. From where I am, I can see her chin quiver. She breaks my gaze, marches down the remaining stairs, and walks right out the door.

  So be it. It’s not like I would have, or could have acknowledged her around my friends.

  I need another drink. I need a whole keg of drinks. I want to forget everything about this night. Really, I just wish the night was over. I want to wake up tomorrow with a headache, a hangover, and a whole lot of questions about what happened the night before. Unanswerable questions.

  Beer just isn’t doing the trick. I need something stronger. A lot stronger. I find Jesse in the middle of a game of beer pong. I try to drag him away but he won’t let me until I have played at least one game with him. To say I lose on purpose would be correct. I wish I could get drunker, faster.

  Finally, Jesse and I make it to my dad’s office and his booze cabinet. My parents know I drink. But as long as I don’t drink the expensive stuff they don’t care. I grab a bottle of vodka, don’t worry about the glasses. I swallow two mouthfuls before I hand the bottle to Jesse.

  He eyes me warily. I always partake in a parties festivities, rituals, indulgences, but not to this level. “Are you alright man?” he asks me.

  I consider telling him what happened with her. I’ve always told him everything. Even if that everything was something he doesn’t want to hear. He would understand. He would probably even tell me stories I’ve already heard about how he slept with a girl and the condom broke or how he slept with a girl unprotected who said she was on the pill but wasn’t. He would understand. He would make me feel better. But I can’t tell him about this. I can’t tell him about her. She’s not one of us. She’s not even close to being one of us.

  So why did I do it? What possessed me to have sex with a girl I don’t know? A girl who doesn’t know me. A girl who doesn’t belong in my world. Why? Why? It’s a question I cannot answer. That makes me angry.

  But is it a question I can’t answer. When she asked me why her, I told her that it was because she was pretty, she was unique, one of a kind, she was an actual person. So she isn’t popular. So she isn’t amazingly gorgeous. She is different. Better even. I enjoyed my time with her. Our time in conversation and our time in the bed. Before tonight, I thought sex was sex. But sex with her was so much more. The way she touched me. The way she let me touch her. Amelia and I had a rhythm, a routine. She made sure I knew what she liked and could only stick to that. With her it was new, creative, special.

  Fuck I am such a pussy.

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” I say, not knowing what else to say. “It’s just weird seeing Amelia with some guy.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” Jesse says from the couch in my dad’s office. “You know what? We need to find you a girl, man.”

  “No,” I say a little too loudly. More quietly I say, “No. Not now. Not tonight.”

  “Okay,” he says.

  “Look,” I say. “I can’t just jump into bed with some girl and get over it like Amelia. Sure, it’s been a couple weeks, but it’s not that easy for me. Not this time.” And the shit storm continues. I sleep with some random girl. I get drunk off my ass. And I lie to my best friend. This night has gone to hell. But where the hell has my life gone?

  I take another drink of the vodka. It burns on the way down, but a little less every time. The alcohol is taking effect. I don’t feel so bad. I don’t feel like such a heaping pile. I don’t feel so guilty. There is a numbing feeling take over my mind and body. An unclear fog settles in my head. I embrace it wanting to forget everything about this night. Wanting to forget what a douche I was to her.

  No. I can’t keep feeling this way. I did nothing wrong. She knew exactly what she was getting into when she agreed to have sex with me. So maybe I should have told her the condom broke, but so what? I’ll never talk to her again after tonight. When school starts again nothing will have changed. What is one night, with one girl, going to change in my life?

  Chapter Two

  Six Weeks

  Lux

  I’m late. I’m late. For a very important date. The White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland runs through my mind, chittering away, mocking me.

  But I’m not late for a very important date.

  I’m late.

  You’re late. You’re late. The White Rabbit turns his joking on me and laughs an evil little rabbit laugh. Hahahaha.

  I clamp my hands over my ears and press hard, trying to drown out the mockery. When that fails, I dial a very familiar number on my phone.

  Leah picks up on the third ring, “Hey bestie!”

  “I need you to come over here right now,” I tell her.

  “Why? What’s up?” There is a slight edge of concern in her voice.

  “I’ll tell you when you get here. Just please. Get over here.”

  “On my way,” she says and hangs up.

  Five minutes later, Leah has let herself into my house and walks into my room. “Okay, what is wrong? You sounded way cryptic on the phone.” Leah is all of five feet ten inches tall. Her gorgeous blonde hair falls in waves around her shoulders, a changeup from her usual ponytail. She has an athletic build, all in thanks of years of playing softball, basketball, volleyball, and running track. If our school offered more, she would take them up on it. She looks nothing like her brother Jesse, who ironically happens to be Greyson’s best friend. I’ve never held that against her, as well as she has never held it against me that I am a loner and the farthest thing from popular.

  I take a deep
breath wondering where to start. I thought about what I would say to her on her way here. I thought about telling her the night the deed in question happened. I thought about telling her every day for the past six weeks. But I always chose not to. I thought my feelings for Greyson would go away. I thought I could forget about that night altogether. I thought I would never have to think about it again. Apparently not.

  I take an even deeper breath, exhale and begin my story. “You remember that party you made me go to and then I ditched you and you got really mad at me?”

  Leah nods slowly, and says, “Yes?”

  “Well, there’s a reason I left early,” I say, not exactly wanting to go on with my story, but if I need her help, I must tell her everything. My cheeks are flushed and I can feel a pulse in my ears.

  But clever Leah figures it out without me having to tell her anything. “Oh my goodness, you had sex.”

  I stare at her, dumbfounded, “How on earth did you figure that out? Especially coming from me?”

  “Easy,” Leah says with a shrug of her shoulders, “my first time was terrible too. I booked it out of his house before he could put his clothes back on.”

  “Really?” I ask. This is news to me.

  “Yes. But that’s beside the point. We are here to talk about you. By the way, why are you telling me about this now?”

  I open my mouth to tell her, but again she trumps me with my own story and says, “Oh, my god, you’re pregnant!”

  “Jeez, how do you do that?”

  “I’m gifted,” she says, shrugging one shoulder.

  “I don’t know if I’m pregnant. But I’m late. Like, really late.”

  “So you need me to go get a test?”

  “I was wondering if you could drive me,” I say, sheepishly.

  “No problem. Let’s go.”

  We get into Leah’s mustang and start driving. Every time Leah stops at a pharmacy, I freak out and make her drive one more town over. Someone could recognize me and report back to my parents that I am buying a pregnancy test.

  On the way there Leah asks me a question I was hoping she would forget to ask. “I was wondering, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but who’s the possible baby daddy?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say, trying to blow it off.

  Leah takes her eyes off the road to give me a look that says, puh-lease.

  “Fine, I’ll tell you,” I say knowing she won’t believe me. “It was Greyson.”

  Leah bursts out laughing and bangs her hand on the steering wheel. “Yeah, sure. Seriously, tell me, who was it?”

  “I just told you,” I say.

  “Yeah, it was a good joke, but now tell me the truth.”

  “Leah, I . . . just . . . told . . . you.”

  Her mouth hangs open. She closes it but it falls open again. “You had sex with Greyson Fletcher? Greyson. Fletcher? Like really? You’re not lying?”

  “No.”

  “So what happened?”

  “He caught me in his room. Then for some unknown reason, we started talking about people and stuff. Then it sort of just happened. When it was over, he just booked it back down to the party. He just left me, naked, on his bed.”

  “What? Jeez. I’m sorry. No wonder you left me. I’m sorry I got mad at you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Can I ask you one more question?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How was it?”

  “It hurt in the beginning,” I say, remembering that night. It’s not something I want to do so I quickly end my tale, “And it was a little awkward. I wasn’t really sure what to do. But by the end if felt good.”

  Finally, four towns from home, I let her park at a Walgreen’s. I sit in the car breathing quickly, nervously.

  “You can do this,” Leah says reassuringly.

  I’m not sure that I can do this. Going into that store and buying a pregnancy test is like admitting that I had sex and that I could be pregnant. I don’t even want to remember that night, but if I am pregnant, I will have to relive it for the rest of my life.

  Finally, mustering all the courage I can, I throw open the door and charge to the doorway. I meander through the store, not wanting it to be obvious why I am there. I walk up and down the aisles, finding interest in the most random things; burnable cds, foot cream, mascara. When I finally reach the condom/pregnancy test aisle my heart is beating so fast I fear it might explode from my chest. I wish to make my selection as quick as possible and be on my way, but there are so many to choose from. How do I choose? Ones with pink and blue plusses and minuses. Ones with one line for not pregnant and two lines for pregnant. Ones with the words pregnant or not pregnant. I choose one of each and rush the front counter. When I make my purchases, the cashier gives me no talk of etch-a-sketches or doodles that can’t be undid, and he certainly doesn’t call me homeskillet. But he gives me a look of pity. I am almost disappointed, but then realize my disappointment is more than likely not far off.

  I feel numb as Leah drives slowly back to my house and then when I pee on the little sticks and wait for the two and a half minutes for the results. I feel like I’m hovering over my own body, watching as the events of my life unravel before me. It is very disconcerting. But I snap back into my body as my arm pulls up that first test. Leah stands behind me, her arms steady, reassuring on my shoulders. I close my eyes not wanting to see what it says. I take a deep breath and hold it in. I open my eyes and stare at my pee stick. Pregnant. I exhale but it is not a sigh of relief. My breath comes out in panicked sobs.

  “Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t be pregnant, Leah!” I yell at her.

  “Relax,” she says. “It could just be a faulty test. We’ll take another one. Just relax.”

  A half hour and seven glasses of water later, I stand before the bathroom sink with two Pregnants, two pink plusses, and four lines in front of me.

  “Oh my god,” I say and sink to the floor. My stomach churns and I race to the toilet, my many glasses of water coming back up.

  “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. You are going to get through this. We are going to get through this. I am not going to leave your side.”

  I lie on the bathroom floor and let the cool tile calm me. I feel sick all over. I ache all over. My head pounds and that stupid White Rabbit laughs at me. I wish I never went to that stupid party. I wish I never had feelings for Greyson. I hate him so much. I hate him for who he is. I hate him for who I wish he was. I hate myself for being so easily played. I hate the baby inside of me.

  Greyson

  I roll off of her and lay panting and sweaty beside her. I look over at her, her chest rises and falls like mine. There is a moment of silence, then we both laugh.

  Amelia felt the need to separate herself from me this summer. She said she needed to take the summer to find herself. What she really needed was to find herself under a slew of new guys, as witnessed by every party I attended. But the day before our senior year started, she came knocking on my door, crawling back to me, saying how we needed to be together this year. How it is our last year and people expect us to be together. It was all bullshit but I didn’t feel like playing the field any longer. It was better to let her believe that I was readily willing to take her back, that I needed her back. Girls like Amelia need to feel on top of the world, like they are the one and only. Besides, it’s easier to sleep with one girl whenever I want to, than have to chase tail. The last five weeks have been pretty fun. But being back together with Amelia is a good way to forget about the night that never really was.

  I haven’t seen her at school yet, which is probably a good thing. I wouldn’t know what to do, or to say. What am I thinking? Of course I would know what to do. I am Greyson Fletcher and I don’t back down from anything. I know exactly what I would do. I would ignore her, pretend I don’t know her, and be on my merry way.

  Amelia rolls to her side and props herself up on her elbow, not mindi
ng to cover herself. “What do you want to do today?”

  I cock one of my eyebrows and raise one side of my mouth. “We could just spend the day in bed. My parents are out for the day.”

  “Ow,” she pouts, her mouth turning down. “But I wanted you to take me shopping and to a movie and out to eat,” Amelia uses her pouty, baby voice that she thinks will get me to do whatever she wants. Little does she know that I do what she wants just to make her shut up so I no longer have to hear that awful shrieking.

  I don’t know why Amelia would ask me what I wanted to do today when she clearly could care less.

  “Give me an hour and I’ll take you wherever you want,” I say to her, trying to get what I can from her before I spend the day wanting to shoot myself in the foot.

  She wrinkles her brow but smiles, giving in. I fling myself on top of her, spread her legs, and thrust into her.

  ***

  “What do you think of this one?” Amelia says, coming out from a dressing room.

  It looks just like the last one, I think to myself. But instead of saying it out loud, I tell her, “I like this one.”

  Amelia raises an eyebrow, not convinced I’m paying enough attention to her, and turns back into the dressing room. We’ve been at this for an hour. She went through the store grabbing every dress, tank top, shirt, skirt, or pair of pants she could shove in my arms. And this is the third store. Am I allowed to pick out my own clothes? Oh no. This is Amelia’s day. She feels that she needs a whole new wardrobe for the year and our slightly old, somewhat new, and somehow borrowed relationship. Why she couldn’t have done this over a month ago, I don’t know. She’s gone the last many weeks in the same wardrobe, but no, now she feels she needs everything new, everything better.

  I could argue, or complain, or just not let her get her way. But at this point it is easier just to go with what she wants.

  “What about this one?” Amelia asks, opening the dressing room door, but not stepping out. It’s a good thing she doesn’t walk out, I’m sure we’d get kicked out of the store, or possibly arrested if she did. Amelia is naked.