He woke her up about two, fairly drunk, crashing around downstairs.
He came up the stairs, and seemed to be trying to be quiet. Slid into bed next to her, smelling of whisky and beer.
“How much have you had?” she said.
“Not much. You were serious this morning? This isn’t a joke?”
She lay there for a while, irritated, but she supposed she’d have wanted to check too. Maybe. “I’m serious,” she said.
“Shit.”
Silence for a while. She wondered if maybe this would be easier. If talking in the darkness, unable to see each other’s faces, would make it hurt a little less for him. She reached over and took his hand and squeezed it.
“I love you,” he said. “That hasn’t changed.”
“I know. I love you too.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
She didn’t answer.
“But I have,” he said. “Haven’t I?”
“You have.”
He started to sit up, clumsy and drunk. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Don’t. Just stay.”
“I should sleep on the couch.”
“Robert, just fucking stay here. I can hug you or something if you want.”
“No.”
She stroked his back instead. He turned a little so she could reach.
“We both fucked up,” he said after a while. “I should have tried harder too.”
“I know.”
He turned over, seemed to be groping around. She wasn’t sure why until he put his hand on her breast.
He squeezed. She lay there for a moment.
“Don’t,” she said.
He took his hand away.
Silence again. His breathing changed fairly quickly, and he went to sleep. Too drunk to stay awake very long being upset, she thought.
*
Then next afternoon she sat with Ethan in one of the cafes near the student services building. He’d wanted to come to her office, but she said no, knew they’d just fuck if she saw him somewhere with a closing door.
And right now fucking was dangerous. She didn’t know what Robert had said.
“How’s it going?” Ethan said, and seemed worried about her.
“Shit. The whole thing’s shit.”
“I imagine.”
They sat a while.
“I miss you,” he said.
“Me too.”
She looked around. She checked no-one she knew was nearby.
“Hey,” she said. “I want the thing with you. Just so you know.”
He nodded.
She moved her hand. Slid it across the table, against his, so the tips of one finger touched.
“You’re worried we’ll get in trouble?” Ethan said.
“That I will, yeah.”
“Will he say anything?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he has. He’s still hoping we can work it out, I think, so he’s behaving.”
“Can you?”
“Nope.”
He seemed relieved. He sat quietly a little longer, looking down at their hands.
“How bad is it, if he does tell someone?”
She shrugged. “You’ll be okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And you?”
“I actually have no idea. There must be a rule somewhere, but I’ve never seen it. And I don’t want to start asking around right now.”
“Giving me marks is bad, though?”
“Yeah. But no-one knows about that.”
“And if they work it out? Because suddenly someone checks my work and it isn’t good enough?”
She wondered if he’d been worrying about that all along, not her getting in trouble. Then she decided she was being too suspicious, was too used to Robert.
“Yeah,” she said. “That’d be bad, for me. Very bad. But for you, I’ll just make them un-enroll you, take it off your record. You won’t get hurt either way.”
“But you’d be in trouble?” he said.
She looked at him very carefully, and decided she couldn’t see any relief at all. He was concerned about her, not his transcript.
“I’d probably be in some shit, yeah.”
He nodded, and seemed worried.
“We’ll wait a bit,” she said. “Okay? Let Robert sort his shit out and then, probably, nothing bad happens.”
“Okay.”
“And even if it does, you’ll still have the credits you need to graduate, right?”
He nodded slowly “But that isn’t the point.”
“It’s part of the point. I can look after myself. I don’t want you paying for this.”
“Can you really?” he said. “Look after this. I mean, I know you talk like it, but…”
She wasn’t sure how honest to be. She didn’t want him worrying.
“I’m taking care of it,” she said. “But yeah, I mean, some people would make a fuss, and some other people would go along with the fuss hoping no-one looks at them too closely. But they can’t really afford to lose me.”
“Lose you?” Ethan said. “Shit, they could fire you?”
She realized she’d made a mistake.
“Nah,” she said. “That isn’t how it works. I do research. I get funding for research. And I’m a woman in a male-dominated field. And I’m good. The department won’t let me go, and maths is still a department that matters. If Robert makes trouble, they’ll fire him rather then me. You can get a new political scientist by turning over a rock.”
He looked at her.
“Seriously, there’s a guy over in sociology who isn’t allowed to be alone in his office with a student. And that’s sociology. I’m fine.”
“I want you,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “Me too. Just give me a little time.”
“And you’ll really be okay?”
She smiled and nodded and told him not to worry, but wasn’t quite as sure as she was making herself sound.
Chapter Ten
Robert came home at three in the morning, drunk again. Beth woke up when he opened the front door. She heard him drop his keys in the hallway, heard him stumble coming up the stairs. From the noise he was making, he was worse tonight than he had been the night before.
She rolled over and hoped he’d hurry up and quiet down. She owed him something, and a bit of this was understandable, but if he got into a habit she was going to get sick of being woken up very quickly.
He came into the bedroom. He left the hall light on and the door open and didn’t seem to realize, and she didn’t bother telling him. He took his clothes off, fell onto the bed, climbed in.
“Hey,” she said. “I’m awake.”
He was fumbling around under the covers. It took her a minute to realize he was looking for her, groping around until he found her. He slid over, pressed against her back, hugging her, whispering, “Beth,” like he was trying to wake her up or something.
“What?”
“Are you awake?”
“Course I am. You fucking stink.”
“I’m shitfaced.”
“I know.”
He put his hand on her tummy, seemed to be pulling at her shirt. “Really fucking shitfaced.”
“Yeah.”
“I want you.”
“I know, but you can’t have me.”
“No,” he said, his hand under her shirt, on her bare breast. “I want you.”
She lay there for a moment, not quite sure what to do. He tried to kiss her. His breath stunk, and when he found her cheek, he was slobbery too.
“Stop it,” she said.
“I want you, Beth.”
“I know, but fuck off.”
“You’re mine, Beth. I can’t let you go.”
She reached over and turned on the light and then looked at him for a moment. She was almost worried by that. He didn’t normally say such things. She didn’t like the idea he thought she was his, and she really didn’t like the idea he couldn’t let go of he
r. She wasn’t sure if that meant he’d hurt her, or he’d hurt himself, but whatever he meant, him thinking that was her fault.
“What do you mean?” she said. “That you can’t let me go?”
“We’re meant to be together.”
“We might not be,” she said carefully. “Not meant to be.”
“We are.”
He was still playing with her tit. He pinched her nipple a bit hard. He didn’t mean to hurt her, she thought, was just drunk and clumsy. He reached down, rubbed her through her underwear.
“Oh shit no,” she said. “Fuck off.”
He shook his head, and kept trying.
“Robert,” she said. “You fucking asshole.”
“You’re mine, Beth.”
Her sympathy was fading fast. “I’m really not.”
He’d got his hand inside her underwear, and pushed his fingers into her. She wriggled, tried to get away. She still wasn’t sure how seriously to take this.
“Hey,” she said. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He slid over, on top of her, trying to pin her down. Holding her down, she thought, on the bed, like Ethan had a dozen times.
She thought about what she liked, and what she’d found out she liked, and how the one time with Robert she’d enjoyed it he’d been holding her wrists.
She thought about how she did actually care for Robert, in a way, and whether it was okay to have one last quickie with someone she was breaking up with. She wondered if Robert would feel better if she did, and she thought about guilt and the mess she’d made.
Suddenly she wasn’t so sure she minded if Robert wanted a goodbye fuck.
“Wear a condom,” she said.
He shook his head.
“Don’t be difficult or I won’t,” she said.
“I don’t want to. Not for your other guy. Not to keep him happy.”
“Fuck,” she said. “Fine. But go brush your teeth.”
“Nope,” he said, and kissed her. He tasted pretty bad, and she pushed him away. It didn’t matter. She didn’t want to kiss him anyway. She didn’t want intimacy, even if they were going to have sex.
He started. He pulled off her underwear, moved her legs. He was kneeling over her, looking down at her now.
Not looking down at her, looking down at someone he thought was his. Someone he thought he knew.
Someone else entirely, who he’d never listened to, and wasn’t listening to now.
She lay there for a moment and thought about that.
Robert lay down on her. He was heavy on her, was trying to get himself inside her, but not managing to aim right. He was poking into her leg, and she didn’t try and help him.
He was trying to fuck her, she thought, and she didn’t really feel anything. She was a bit wet, and she didn’t mind if they did, but she didn’t really want to do this.
She probably shouldn’t, she thought, if she didn’t really want to. That wasn’t right.
“Robert,” she said. “I don’t want to. Get off me.”
He stayed where he was.
She’d almost started to think she might like something like this. To think that Ethan and his wrist-grabbing meant something. She realized she didn’t. Ethan and his wrist-grabbing meant a whole lot of different, slightly confusing things, but this here, with Robert, wasn’t one of them. This wasn’t right. She didn’t want to have sex like this.
“Last chance,” she said. “I mean it.”
He ignored her. He was pissed, and not especially a threat, but he was still planning to fuck her and ignore her telling him not to, that was fairly obvious.
She pushed upwards, tried to get him off. He grabbed at her wrists, tried to hold them. He was drunk and clumsy, so she shook herself free. She pushed again, and he put his whole weight on her, squashed some of the breath out of her.
“Hey,” she said. “Stop it,” and hit his shoulder. He seemed to ignore it. He was trying to get himself inside her, and she was starting to get scared.
“Robert,” she said. “You fucking shit. Get off.”
She could feel him hard on her leg. He seemed more turned on now, and that surprised her. Then it didn’t. Of course he was turned on. Unlike Ethan holding her down, this was the fantasy he’d never had the balls to ask her to act out.
He was actually going to do this, she realized. She had trouble believing it. He was actually planning to do this to her. He was drunk, and he might be too far gone to know what he was doing, but this wasn’t him not hearing, or messing around like Ethan playing kinky games. Robert was actually going to try and fuck her, to rape her, and she couldn’t quite believe it was happening.
She punched him.
She punched him as hard as she could. Up between them, into the underneath of his jaw with a closed fist. It made a thud and hurt her hand, and he stopped moving, and looked down at her.
“You hit me,” he said. “Shit.”
He’d lifted up a little, made some room for her. She hit him again, quite carefully, on his nose. Something got bent inside it, she felt a little squish, like crushing garlic under a knife. She pushed, but he didn’t move. She hit him again, missed his face, got his shoulder. By then he’d lifted up enough she could get out from underneath him.
She slid sideways, got off the bed, and went halfway to the door before she looked back. He was sitting on the bed.
She stopped. There was something sticky on her hand, and on her chest. She looked down. His blood.
“What the fuck was that?” she said.
She pulled down her shirt, got herself covered. Pulled on the jeans she’d been wearing earlier.
He didn’t move.
“What the fuck, Robert?” she said. “Fuck. You scared me.”
“It was just…”
“You thought I wanted you to? “
He looked at her. “I don’t know. I was angry.”
“You were going to fuck me because you were angry?”
He shrugged.
“Fuck,” she said, still getting it clear in her own mind. “You were going to fucking rape me. I know there’s some shit going on, and I know you were pissed, but that one was rape. You knew I didn’t want to and you did it anyway.”
“Beth…”
“Jesus fuck, Robert.”
“Beth, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t talk to me.”
She wanted to cry and wasn’t sure why. Relief perhaps. That pissed her off. She was her. She was tough. It was Robert, and she’d fought him off, and she was okay. She should be proud, not upset.
“I’m so sorry,” Robert said.
“Get the fuck downstairs and don’t come back up here.”
“Beth…”
“Fucking go.”
He nodded and went.
She thought about a shower, and about vomiting, but decided she wasn’t going to let him matter that much to her. She stood there for a while, until she’d calmed down, until her breathing was back to normal, then went down the stairs. She stopped two from the bottom, where she was higher but could see him.
He was on the couch. “Sleep down here,” she said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Are you going to be?”
“I hate you.”
He went still, looked at her.
“While you were doing that I realized I hate you.”
“I didn’t mean....”
“I hate you. How could you do that to me?”
“I was angry. I was upset.”
“God, I know. That’s why I’m so pissed off. I understand. I sort of understand. And part of me still loves you. But I’m so fucking angry at you that you actually did.”
He sat where he was for a while.
“Beth, I’ll do whatever you want.”
She shook her head, and went back up the stairs. She hated him.
Whatever guilt or concern or obligation she’d felt were gone, and she was actually just glad. She
wasn’t going to make him leave, she wasn’t going call the police. She still cared for him, somewhere inside, but now she hated him too. And that made everything so much simpler.
*
Beth left early, before Robert was awake. She wasn’t sure how she felt, or how seriously she should take what he’d tried to do. He’d been drunk, but he’d also been a horrible person and she’d never known that he was capable of something like that.
She was angry. She was angry because he’d betrayed her, and in a way humiliated her, and also because it somehow showed no respect for her mind. In an odd way that was the worst of it. She avoided Ethan, deliberately. She didn’t want him noticing something was wrong and getting it out of her by being nice while she was feeling vulnerable and weak. She wasn’t sure what would happen if Ethan knew, but she could think of a few bad outcomes without even trying hard. That he’d treat her like she was dirty, or needed extra care, or that he’d go off and punch Robert, which would probably get him expelled, since Robert was still staff.
Worst of all, he’d probably stop grabbing her wrists and holding her down on beds. She was pretty sure he’d do that, would just assume he shouldn’t without even asking. He would if he was any kind of decent person, anyway, and the conversation to convince him to start again would just be too unbearably awkward.
She avoided Ethan, and thought all morning, and got very little work done. She decided she and Robert probably ought to talk. At least she should throw him out herself, decide that herself, not just let him drift away.
She went home at lunchtime and Robert was still there, probably waiting for her.
She put down her bag, and went and made coffee. He followed her into the kitchen and watched her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She shook her head. “Don’t.”
“Do you want me to move out?” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “Obviously.”
“I will.”
“I don’t know if I’m going to tell you to move out. Any sooner than you were, I mean.”
He looked at her.
“I really don’t know,” she said. “I’m thinking. I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. I don’t know what I was doing.”
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