by A. D. Ryan
It was on my first day that my roommate, Tanis, introduced me to her older brother Ben. He was charming and always cooking up excuses to stop by our room to “check on his baby sister.” Of course, I would later find out that he knew she was in class, and it was just his excuse to come talk to me.
I hadn’t dated anyone before—not really. There was a boy in high school that was nice to me. We went out on a couple of movie dates with friends and held hands. But it was never really serious. We never even got to second. I found out after graduation that he was gay.
Talk about a blow to one’s ego; I questioned my femininity for a while after that.
When Ben and I started dating, it was obvious that he wanted a more physical relationship, but I wasn’t really interested in sex at first. My mom had me straight out of high school, and that wasn’t a life I would have chosen for myself. So I waited.
I placated Ben for a while, nervous to go further than I was ready for. I’d let him feel me up, get his hand in my pants, and eventually, when I thought I was ready, we had sex. It was all right. Like I said before, there weren’t stars or fireworks that went off like I was led to believe there would be, and, honestly? I thought it was supposed to last longer. Of course, I really had nothing to base it on; Ben seemed to enjoy himself, so I figured maybe it was just me.
We had fun in the beginning; he’d take me to all the parties, introduce me to all of his friends, and then we’d go back to his dorm and fool around. My freshman year was my party year, but when my sophomore year came around the corner, I knew I had to buckle down. So, I increased my course-load, and Ben seemed really supportive. He didn’t stop his partying ways, but he supported me and led me to believe that it was okay that I was focusing more on my studies than him.
Well, now I know it’s because Delilah was busy diddling him.
Releasing a deep sigh, I round the corner onto my parents’ street and park my car along the curb. Dad’s cruiser is in the driveway next to mom’s SUV, and I look at the clock on my newly installed CD player to see that it’s nearly dinnertime. I don’t relish telling my mom what happened, and I look even less forward to Dad hearing about it too. But I know it’s going to happen, so I take a deep breath, grab my phone and backpack, and climb out of my vehicle.
I fiddle with my keys as I ascend the steps of the front porch, trying to locate the key to the house. When I find it, I slide it into the deadbolt and turn it, pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold.
“Oh, Cam. That’s it. Oh yeah…right there.”
“OHMYGOD!” I scream, completely horrified at having walked in on them…again. My timing really is horrible. I’m starting to wonder if I should wear a bell or announce my presence to the world. I’ll bet my dad even has a bullhorn I can borrow for such things.
Through my periphery, I can barely see my mother fall off the couch—where I unfortunately assume my father is laying—and I slap my hand up to act as a blinder between them and me.
“What the hell is wrong with the two of you?! Jesus!” Naturally, I don’t wait around for an answer before I bolt up the stairs and slam my bedroom door.
Nothing in my room has changed since the day I moved out—just as my parents promised. My twin bed remains dressed in deep blue linens; my desk sits near the window, empty because I took my laptop with me to school; and my dresser is in the corner, topped with a mirror and various candles. I don’t give myself the opportunity to soak up the familiarity of the room before I flop down on my bed and pull my pillow over my head. There’s a brief moment of time where I wonder if I can asphyxiate myself until I pass out. Maybe the lack of oxygen to my brain will trigger amnesia.
There’s a light knock on my door, and I recognize it instantly as my mother’s.
“Go away!” I cry into the pillow. I’m sure she doesn’t hear me, because the door creaks as she opens it and my bed dips at my knees beneath her weight.
“I didn’t realize you were coming home,” she says as if it’s an excuse to act like a teenager. “Your father came home for—”
I yank my pillow away from my face and gawk at her. “Oh, I know what he came home for.”
Mom shakes her head with a sly smirk, her dark hair flowing freely around her face. “Dinner. Your father came home for dinner. He’s working the graveyard tonight.”
“And you decided that dessert should come first.” The minute the sentence leaves my mouth, a queasy feeling rolls through my stomach, and I bring the pillow back up to my face, pressing harder than before.
Before I can successfully suffocate myself, the pillow is torn from my grasp, and my mother stares deep into my eyes. “What’s going on?”
It’s hard not to spill my guts to her because she’s just so damn easy to talk to. So I sit up, cross my legs like a pretzel in front of me, and begin to tell her what happened with Ben. She pushes my long brown hair behind my shoulders as I speak, and I’m shocked when she doesn’t seem too surprised. I really thought she’d liked him when I had introduced them. Apparently, I was wrong.
“He’s an idiot. I always knew you could do better.” This is just one of the many things she tells me. Oddly, it comforts me.
“Honestly, I haven’t even cried. Is that weird? I mean, I thought when someone you loved did something like that, you cried…”
Mom laughs heartily, placing her hand on my knee. “Oh, honey. I’d be willing to bet you never really loved that boy. Trust me, when you fall in love, you’ll know it.” I’m confused, so all I do is stare as she gets this wistful look in her blue eyes. “He will be your entire world. Just being away from him will feel like the end of your world, and when you’re reunited, you’ll feel a sense of total completion.”
“Sounds a little Jerry Maguire to me,” I mumble.
With a one-shouldered shrug, she stands from the bed. “Maybe. But you’ll understand one of these days.”
I am quick to disagree as she pulls me to my feet and from my room for dinner. “Nope. I’m giving up on relationships. I’m going to focus on school and my career. I don’t need a man.”
“Oh, sweetie.” She wraps her arm around me securely as we descend the stairs. “You can’t control these things from happening. You’ll see.”
I find it hard to believe that I’ll ever be able to trust any man again, but I force a smile to my face to placate her. She’s always been a bit of a romantic soul, and I hate to take that away from her just because it decided to skip a generation.
So, instead of arguing, I smile and rest my head against her shoulder. We enter the kitchen to find my father at the table, his red face buried in the paper—as it should be. “Whatever you say, Mom.”
Chapter 3
Hearing my mother giggle across the hall as my father does…whatever the hell he does, is starting to drive me crazy. I’ve been here almost two weeks. Not only is the drive to school more than I want to deal with, hearing them night after night after night…well, it’s not something one should ever have to go through. Is this some sort of mid-life crisis? It’s not like they’re even that old…
Neither of them seemed put-out with me staying here; in fact, they both seemed to enjoy catching up with me. However, when Mom told Dad why I was staying, well, it took a lot for us to convince him that the jail time wouldn’t be worth it. His face turned an even deeper shade of red as his rage suppressed his earlier embarrassment from having been caught on the couch with my mother. He even tried telling us that, as a cop, he was certain he’d be able to hide his involvement. While I admit the offer was morbidly considerate, it was wrong, so Mom and I talked him off the ledge.
When he finally calmed down, he assured me that I was welcome to stay as long as I needed. He even told me that the house just hadn’t been the same since I’d gone. I had to bite my tongue so as not to point out the more obvious changes, not really feeling the need to embarrass him further—or remember the sounds and brief glimpse I caught myself.
“Cam, stop it!” my mother squeals, and then I hear the dee
p tenor of my father saying something in return. His voice is muffled, which can only mean one of a few things I really don’t want to wrap my head around for fear of needing industrial-strength brain bleach. Honestly, I’m glad I can’t make out what he’s saying, because I know I’ll run to my desk and drive sharp pencils into my ears. I might even attempt to lobotomize myself; I’m sure there’s a Google or Wiki article about “Do-It-Yourself Lobotomies” out there somewhere. Though I can’t imagine they’re entirely safe.
She giggles again, and having heard more than enough for the day, I throw on my work uniform—a pleated black skirt and a green polo shirt—grab my bag, and hit the stairs before I hear things I can’t unhear. I’m moving so fast that I think I might have even jumped from the top step and landed safely on the main floor.
I’m just opening the door when I hear the creak of my parents’ door at the top of the staircase. “Juliette?” my mother calls down. “Are you going somewhere? I was going to make breakfast.”
Oh, right. I forgot to mention that it’s nine o’clock in the morning. They like to get an early start on their day.
“I’m heading into work,” I reply, yanking the door open. “I wanted to get a little studying in before my shift, and the cafe is typically pretty quiet this early.”
Her footsteps are heard as she heads for the stairs. “Are you sure? I was going to make waffles.” She descends the steps barefoot and dressed in her bathrobe, her cheeks lightly flushed, and her lips plump and red.
I clear my throat, trying not to think of why she looks this way. “Yeah,” I tell her as she sits on the bottom step and looks up at me. I know she can read the look on my face; the way my nose is scrunched up because of what I heard is a dead giveaway. “As tempting as it is, I think it’s best I go…study.”
“Juliette…” I know that tone. She’s about to tell me she and Dad are adults—like me—and that adults have sex. I’m no stranger to this talk.
I have to interrupt her before she says the words “your father and I” in the same sentence as “have sex.” “Save me some of those waffles, though. I’ll throw them in the toaster for breakfast tomorrow. Thanks!” And I’m out the door.
The drive to the cafe I work at could be faster, but my poor car is on its last leg. With school and my low pay, I am unable to rectify that, though. The more distance I put between me and the house, the more able I am to focus on anything but the awkwardness I’ve been enduring the last few days.
One would think that they could control themselves with their daughter around. They’re animals, though. Plain and simple. At least they’re keeping it in the bedroom while I’m staying there; I do have that to be thankful for.
“Hey, Juliette!” Katie greets excitedly as I enter the cafe. She’s busy wiping down the counter as I toss my bag onto an empty chair and make my way to her. “I thought you weren’t supposed to work until later?”
Katie and I went to high school together. We weren’t best friends by any means, but we hung out on occasion. She was a sweet girl and fun to work with. She chose to go to Paradise Valley Community College here in Phoenix and still lives with her mom, so unfortunately she isn’t an option to bunk with. I would gladly room with her if I could.
“I had to get out of that house,” I confess, popping behind the counter to pour myself a coffee and grab a muffin.
Katie looks at me with empathy because she’s been listening to me gripe about my parents’ lapin-esque activities. “Still no news on a new dorm, huh?” Thankfully, she’s not one to talk about my reason for escaping my parents almost daily.
I shake my head. “Nah. Daphne tells me that because it’s so late in the year, the chance of something opening up is unlikely. And people in private dorms aren’t usually looking to take on a dorm mate.”
I’m putting cream and sugar into my coffee when Katie turns to me, leaning her hip against the low counter that our espresso machine is on. “Ben stopped by last night.”
“I hope you spit in whatever froufrou drink he ordered.”
“Thought about it,” Katie tells me with an impish smirk. “Instead, I told him you were out on a date.”
I sputter on the sip of coffee I’ve just taken, coughing as the piping hot beverage burns my trachea. “You did what?”
Katie looks pretty damn proud of herself. “He looked pretty pissed too. He kept asking who it was and where you’d gone.”
Wiping at my chin with a napkin, I ask, “And what did you say?”
“That it was just some guy you met. That pissed him off even more.” I didn’t think her smile could get any wider, but it does.
“While I’m not sure angering him is a wise decision,” I say, “I have to admit, the idea of him being jealous is quite appealing.”
The chimes above the door ring, and I turn quickly, thinking that maybe Ben has decided to stop by again. I’m happy to see it’s not him, just a group of students coming in early on a Saturday morning for coffee and breakfast. Picking up my own muffin and coffee mug, I leave Katie to her work while I go to the table I’ve claimed and pull out my laptop to start that paper I told Mom I needed to do.
As always, I become so immersed in my schoolwork that nothing else seems to register. Katie is awesome about making sure I’m not interrupted and keeps my coffee cup full. She brings me a ham sandwich, even though I haven’t asked for it, because she knows I’ll need to eat before I start my shift.
I acknowledge her with a smile before pulling the plate toward me. “Thanks.” I take a bite and then notice the folded paper under her arm. I chew slower as I stare at the mangled paper, and I suddenly realize that my parents’ place isn’t a last resort. “Hey, you mind if I take that?”
Katie looks down at it and shrugs. “Knock yourself out. Mind if I ask why?”
I set my sandwich back down and brush the crumbs from my fingertips before taking the outstretched paper and opening it to the last page. “Because I’m going to find a place where people aren’t having sex all the time.”
“The classifieds?” Katie seems a little apprehensive about my plan. She wouldn’t be if she had to live with what I currently am.
Wishing me luck, Katie heads back to work, and I peruse the multiple ads. I don’t get to look them over very long, just long enough to circle the first three that catch my eye, before I note the time and pack everything up into my bag so I can start my shift. As soon as I clock in, Katie takes her break, leaving me with three customers in line.
The routine is the same, save for the order the drinks come in, and in the first hour I’ve probably made five frappuccinos, ten espressos (three of which were doubles), six cappuccinos, and twelve lattes. All different flavors, so that keeps me on my toes.
Katie comes back from her break as soon as the crowd thins, because that’s how it always happens, so we spend the next little bit cleaning up the back counter and stocking everything we’ll need for the dinner rush. As we do, Katie starts talking about her boyfriend and how they are planning to take a trip to Jamaica as soon as school lets out.
Hearing her talk about her rock solid relationship only serves to remind me of my failed one. I’m happy for her, sure, but it does little to offer me any solace. While I’m in no way ready to date, just knowing that it is possible to be in a happy, committed relationship kind of bums me out. I mean, even my parents are in that mid-life, 24/7, I-can’t-keep-my-hands-off-you stage. How depressing is that? I’m in college. Shouldn’t I be going to parties and hooking up with guys at random?
Katie leaves at four, having finished her shift, and the closing server, Mel, comes in to take her place since I’m off in just two hours myself. Mel tells me she can hold down the fort if I want to take a break, so I grab a muffin and a bottle of water before grabbing my paper and a pen. Sitting at one of the tables by the window, I draw my knee to my chest, my foot flat on the seat of the chair, and I chew on the cap of the red pen while I scan the advertisements.
There’s one that sounds promising�
��right up until the douchebag mentions that “hot chicks welcome to inquire.” I immediately cross it off; there’s no way in hell I’ll even entertain the idea. There’s another one, but this time the woman is all business and isn’t “looking for a BFF.” While I’m not either, I am completely turned off by what comes across as PBS: Potential Bitch Syndrome. Seriously, where did people learn to write ads these days?
Another one catches my eye, and I circle it before moving on. There are less than a handful of decent ads in the paper, and it’s a little disheartening. It doesn’t bode well for my odds. Then I realize that I don’t have to limit myself to the paper; Craigslist, while a little scary, is usually swimming in ads seeking a roommate.
By the end of my break, I’ve found well over ten between the paper and Craigslist. I feel like it’s a pretty decent start to getting out of my parents’ house.
The rest of my shift is a breeze, and I clock out ten minutes after my shift was supposed to end, having helped Mel with the last few customers before leaving her and Rick for the night.
“Night, guys!” I call after me as I push the door open and walk out into the dry, desert air.
“Good luck on your apartment hunt,” Mel says with a wave.
It’s pretty warm outside for late fall, and I can already feel the heat permeate my clothes and skin. Once I’m inside my car, I roll both of the windows down so I don’t melt. Knowing that my dad’s shift at the department starts in a half hour, I drive slowly; I really don’t want to chance walking in on anything else. I still plan to call, because I’ve definitely learned my lesson.
When I’m a block away, I call the house. With a laugh, my mom assures me that Dad has left, and she deems it safe for me to come in without knocking. I put the car in park and grab my things before trudging up the driveway and through the front door.
“Hey, Mom! I’m home,” I announce before hiking up the stairs and putting my bag in my room. I toss the paper and my laptop onto the bed and am just slipping out of my coffee-stained work shirt and into a light tank and jeans when my mom comes in and flops down on my bed.