by Deena Bright
“Well sure, I wasn’t going to let you sulk forever,” she explains. “I figured that you’ve had enough time to wallow and self-destruct… you’re done now, right?”
“But… I owe you an apology—”
“Listen, water under the bridge. We’re good. I’ll go in and get my swipe card. Let’s get lunch,” she offers.
“Aren’t you going to work out?” I say, starting to follow her back in.
“I got up early and ran at the rec—before my 9:00.”
“Wait, what? You got up and went running before… before class? Hold on a second,” I say, backing up and sitting back down. “I think I need a minute. That’s… that’s… I don’t know. I’m not sure I can handle being friends with someone like you,” I joke, lightening the mood.
“Keep it up, bitch, and I’ll make you start going with me,” she threatens, pushing the button of the elevator.
“Never,” I declare, standing firm on the fact that I will never—ever—no matter what, become a runner.
Laughing, Vivian says, “Oh we’ll see. I can be quite persuasive.”
“Yes, you certainly can,” I agree, thinking about how she convinced me to let Kyle go down on me. “So, we’re okay? For real?” I double-check.
“We’re perfect… we’re friends,” she says, smiling, but there’s something behind that smile that I just can’t quite figure out.
“I’M REALLY HAPPY about two things right now,” Vivian says, lying back on her bed, unbuttoning her jeans. “I’m happy to have you back. I’ve been pretty bummed without you—and bored—really fucking bored.”
“God, me too. I should’ve emerged days ago. Hannah Hermit sure was getting on my nerves. Do you have any idea how many shows that chick watches on TV? She must be a Nielsen or something—nobody should watch that much TV,” I complain, sitting down on Vivian’s futon. “So what’s the other thing you’re happy about?”
“Oh… that’s the most important one, I’m freaking ecstatic that it was ‘build your own burrito’ for lunch. That’s my favorite—by far,” she jokingly swoons, rubbing her stomach. “Good thing I ran today.”
“Right? Why can’t they just have it every day for lunch? Just doesn’t even make sense—people come out of the woodwork for burritos—and the ‘build your own sub’ is good too,” I state, feeling quite full myself.
“True, that is a good one, but not nearly as good as the burrito,” Vivian says.
Rolling over to reach her iPod dock, the back of Vivian’s shirt lifts in back, and I immediately hone in on the pink lacy thong coming out of her jeans. A warmth trickles through me, coating my insides in heat, like warm syrup drizzling over morning pancakes. The feeling is slow and inviting, tantalizing and tempting.
For the past week, I’ve been struggling with how I felt about Vivian’s arms around me, comforting me when I was tormented and torn. Honestly, I haven’t felt that safe and sure at any other time in my life. I spent the first few days wondering if I was confusing the feelings of a true best friendship with love and lust as I’ve never had the best friend who spends the night, braids your hair, and shares secrets with you all night long. I tried to chalk it up to a bonded, true friendship and that I accidentally misread it as something else. But the truth is, I feel so much more for Vivian than what I have ever felt or could feel for a best friend. Truthfully, I even feel something deeper for her than what I felt for Kyle after being with him for over a year.
Almost as if she can read my mind, Vivian asks, “So are you going to tell me what happened with Kyle? Why’d you end it?”
Taking a deep breath and holding it in while I count to ten, I slowly exhale and say, “Yeah, it’s why I came over—I want to tell you everything, but it’s going to be hard to say—to admit.”
Thoughtfully, Vivian picks up her phone, powers it off, and says, “Alright shoot, I’m all yours.”
“Well, remember how… how… you made me promise to let him… go… you know?”
“Jesus Sarah, are we in fifth grade? Yes, I told you to let him eat you out,” Vivian declares, rolling her eyes.
“Ummm… okay… well… he did,” I admit, feeling so uncomfortable.
“Oh fuck, was it bad? Did he not know how?” Vivian asks, crossing her legs and leaning forward.
“No… no… it wasn’t that. It was… was… fine. I mean, I couldn’t… wasn’t really getting… ya know… into it… until… until…” I stammer, trying to find the courage to be open and honest with her.
“Until what? What happened?” she squeals, bouncing up and down on the bed.
“I was just about to tell him to stop, but then… then… I closed my eyes and—”
“And what? I’m going to kill you if you don’t tell me,” she grits, impatiently.
“I started imagining he was… you,” I say, sighing and closing my eyes in humiliation. Shaking my head in embarrassment and shame, I add, “I pretended his hands were yours and his mouth was—”
“Okay… okay… hold on there,” Vivian commands, waving her hands. “Sarah, listen to me, this is… no… this is not how it goes.”
“What do you mean? What did I do wrong?” I question, feeling hurt by her rejection.
“You’re mixed up… confused because Kyle didn’t do it for you,” Vivian tries to explain. “It makes sense that you’d think that about me, because I can tell a good story… describe a hot scene. My stories got you worked up—not me.”
“I thought about that… I did… I really did,” I explain. “Vivian, this is all I’ve thought about all week long… Hell for two weeks. Do you think it was easy to come over here and say all this to you?”
“Sarah, listen to me… you’re enticed by the idea of something sexy and different—Hell, for a good Catholic girl, like you, it’s forbidden,” she says.
“Yeah, according to Leviticus, so is eating bacon and playing football,” I reply, exasperated. “We can’t forget the sin of premarital sex… coveting those Louboutin boots of yours either, Vivian. I’ve got quite a few sins under my belt. I don’t feel like this, because I’m not allowed to. I feel like this, because I feel like this.”
“Be realistic, think about it… you’re just on the rebound and looking for something exciting and out-of-the-ordinary—”
“Stop it, Vivian!” I yell quietly. “Don’t tell me what I am or what I feel. I know that I’ve never felt like this about anyone… not a friend or a boyfriend.”
“You don’t get to—”
When she starts, talking, I cut her off and continue, “I’ll tell you that these past two weeks have been terrible. I hated… hated… not seeing you, being around you… and I’m afraid that if I don’t find out what this is… what I feel… that… I’ll leave here and never feel like this about anyone else again.”
“Wow, Frances Houseman would be mad that you stole her speech,” Vivian says, laughing and turning her phone back on. “Sarah, you’re crazy. It’s just a phase.”
“What? Who the fuck is ‘Frances Houseman?’ What are you even talking—?”
“Frances Houseman? Baby? You know when she goes down to the shack and spills her guts out to Johnny to get him to screw her?” Vivian explains, still looking at her phone. “You basically just gave me the same spiel that Baby gives Johnny.”
“Who are these people?” I groan, confused, angry, and hurt.
“Dirty Dancing, duh… it’s a movie… ya know fiction… just like what you think you’re feeling,” Vivian states.
To:[email protected]
From:[email protected]
Subject: SO HARD
Gwen,
A lot has happened since Sarah kissed me. Well, you know we hadn’t seen each other in a week. When I got home from class today, she was waiting for me. God, it felt so good to see her. I missed hanging out with her and being with her. Well guess what? She spilled her guts, declaring her undying love and attraction for me. Of course, I rebuffed her advances and played it off as “just a phase”—I even
went so far as to laugh it off and pretend she was full of shit. But Gwen, she seemed scared and nervous and so sincere.
I didn’t do anything though. I resisted her and it was SOOOOOOOOO EFFING HARD. Gwen, please give me the go ahead to pursue this! I promise it won’t turn out like my deep doldrums depression after Hurricane Caroline broke my heart and went back to guys. This just seems and feels differently. She had this whole speech prepared. It was basically that same one from Dirty Dancing that always made you cry. The one right before they get all freaky and hot. I know I promised you that I’d never do that again, but God, I think Sarah’s on to something here. I might be falling for her… and she’s the one pursuing me. That’s got to count for something—right? If I promise to protect my heart, will you give me the “thumbs up?”
Oh did you know that Skankasaurus, our soon-to-be sister-in-law, got a LAVENDER wedding gown? Thank God this wedding is out of the country—nobody here in America wants to see that shit.
As always, I miss you
I love you.
V.
JAKE NEVER PICKS up his phone. Ever. Which is why I’ve been on an obsessive redialing mission for over an hour. I’ve texted him 15 times simply with the message, “Call me.” Jake always calls me when I need him—or when he needs me. The fact that he hasn’t responded to my calls or texts pisses me off, worries me, and kind of freaks me out.
Where is he?
It’s Sunday morning. He and Carrina-the-Filipino should be snuggling up in his bed, getting ready to go down to breakfast before brunch hours end. I was devastated when he didn’t get into JMU. (Well, I faked devastation. There was no way he was getting in with a 2.4 GPA. I feigned disappointment for his sake.) However, I was elated when he got into Kent State. I love him. I’ll always love him. He’s like the brother I never had. Well, the brother that I fucked for almost a year. Wow, that is so fucking foul. Fucking him wasn’t foul, but thinking about people fucking their brothers—now that’s foul. Actually, thinking about fucking him now is kind of gross, too.
I knew that I genuinely loved him and was never really in love with him the day he called and told me about Carrina. I was so happy for him. I didn’t feel any sort of regret, no twinges of “what if”—just complete happiness for him. I could hear the jubilation and love in his voice over the phone. The first time I met her when I went back home for Thanksgiving break, I could tell that it was the “real deal.” They were meant for each other.
I tried to be a little perturbed and annoyed that he “promised to wait for me,” despite the fact that I asked him not to, and then within three months of being in college, he was already in love with someone else. I tried to be angry, but I just couldn’t muster up the anger. Just watching Carrina-the-Filipino look at him with her glassy, lovestruck eyes and goofy grin, I knew that Jake deserved that kind of love and adoration—things I couldn’t give him or feel for him.
But why the fuck wasn’t he answering the phone?
Finally after 76 straight minutes of hitting send over and over again, my phone rings. Picking it up, I say, “What the Hell took you so long?”
“Sarah, what’s wrong? Is everyone okay?” Jake asks, with panic in his voice.
“Everyone’s fine. I just needed to talk to you and Hannah has some workshop thing today—so I could call from my room,” I explain, trying to calm him down. “Where are you?”
“At the hospital,” Jake says, sighing.
“What? What’s wrong… what’s happening?” I ask, feeling horribly for calling him incessantly for the past hour.
“Carrina’s grandfather is not doing well,” Jake explains, his voice cracking. “They don’t think he’ll last the day.”
“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry. I know how much you’ve come to love all of them,” I console. “Please tell Carrina I’m sorry… if you guys need anything… I’m just… I’m sorry.” I know I’m rambling, but I just don’t know what to say. There are so many people who know exactly what to do and say when tragedy hits. I am not one of those people. I’d rather find some rock somewhere and hide under it until people are smiling and laughing again.
“It’s okay. We knew this day was coming… it’s just hard. I hate seeing Carrina so sad and know I can’t fix it for her,” he says, his voice solemn and dripping with pain.
“I’m sorry, Jake-potato,” I say again. “Keep me posted. I love you. Go back to her. I call ya later.”
“Wait, don’t hang up,” he says, before I can press the ‘End’ button. “What did you need?’
“Oh jeez, nothing,” I say, feeling like a total piece of shit for thinking my shambled mess of a life was a priority. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No Sarah, you called. You hardly ever call. What’s up? Distract me a bit from this shit storm… Carrina is with her sisters and mom right now anyway,” Jake explains. “I’m going to walk down the road to the bakery on the corner and bring everyone back something to snack on. You talk. I’ll walk.”
That is so Jake. Getting comfort food. Comforting me. Taking care of Carrina and her family. Why couldn’t I love him like I should have? Why couldn’t I love Kyle like I should have? Damn, wouldn’t everything just be that much easier? Nothing wonderful ever comes easy. Hell, that’s got to be my new mantra.
“Alright, so… what if I told you that I met someone?” I ask, nonchalantly.
“I’d say, ‘poor Kyle,’ and then say, ‘Good, I’m happy for you,” Jake says, seriously.
“Well, Kyle and I broke up a few weeks ago, so that’s a moot point,” I admit.
“God, I hate that word,” Jake gags. “Moot. Who uses that—besides Rick Springfield?”
“Right, I forgot. Not allowed to use ‘moot’ around you. Anyway, Kyle’s out of the picture,” I correct, laughing. “Is that better?”
“It is, but I liked Kyle. I felt like you were downgrading with him… looking at him kind of did a little something for my ego,” Jake jokes, cheering me up infinitely.
I look at my phone and see that we’ve been on the phone under seven minutes, and I’m already feeling increasingly more chipper. Jake acts insecure and all that, but he’s about the most secure and sincere guy I’ve ever met.
Laughing, I ask, “What if I said that I never felt like this about anyone before?”
“I’d say, ‘Ouch.’ Then after I took the knife out of my heart, I’d say, “Well fuck Sarah, it’s about time, already.” Jake admits, sarcastically. “No seriously, that’s great. I’ve… I’ve been worried about you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You just don’t seem to give all of yourself… like all of your heart. It just always seems like you’re holding back… with me… with Kyle… with everyone,” Jake states, honestly. “I’ll tell you what though—falling in love—like hardcore falling… is the greatest feeling ever… It’s even better when the other person feels the same way.”
“Jake, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt—”
“No… no… no, don’t be. Sarah, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life… well not now… seeing as how we’re saying ‘goodbye’ to Carrina’s grandfather… but I’m grateful with how my life turned out. I owe a lot of that to you,” he states, honestly.
“You’re the best, Goodness-Jakes! I’m pretty damn lucky to have you in my life. You make everything better,” I compliment sincerely.
“Alright, so who’s the poor sap that’s stolen my best friend’s heart?” Jake asks, inquisitively. “What’s his name?”
“Well…” I stall, wondering if I should just drop the bomb and see what happens.
“Whoa, you’re stalling!” he says, surprised. “Is it someone I know? Holy shit, is it someone famous?”
“Jesus no, nothing like that.”
“Then who? Who is he?” Jake asks again.
“What if I said it wasn’t a ‘he?” I reply, biting my lower lip.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Deep, loud sigh.
More silence.
“Well shit, my mom was right,” he says. “Damn that woman is always right!”
My jaw drops. “What? What did your mom say?” I’m floored. Five hundred and fifty-two percent floored.
“Back in high school, one night… I was… just talking to her. I told her that I didn’t think you were really that into me. She asked me if I thought you were actually into guys,” he admits, letting out a whistle of air.
“Holy shit Jake! What did you say?”
“Man, I’m not sure exactly. I told her that you kissed me and stuff and told me that you loved me, so yeah, I was pretty sure,” he explains. “God, Sarah, I never thought in a million—”
“So what did she say after you said that?” I ask, freaking out.
“Something about getting the same Sapphic vibe about you that she always gets around Aunt Coco,” Jake responds. I can just see him shaking his head and rubbing his forehead, typical Jake gesticulations when he’s caught off guard and shocked.
Jake’s Aunt Courtney (CoCo) left her husband and three sons to be with a woman. Joan and Coco come to town for all the holidays, but her sons and ex-husband wouldn’t have anything to do with her. I always felt terribly for her.
Nothing wonderful ever comes easy, damn it.
Maybe, I’ll look her up and email or something. The whole thing was a just a mess. Coco did everything to get the boys to “forgive” her and accept her, but they wouldn’t. It was heartbreaking really. Am I embarking on a lifetime of breaking people’s hearts? I don’t want to hurt people. But I also don’t want to spend my life wondering “what if” and feeling trapped—and unhappily unfulfilled.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m just jumping the gun. I had a few fantasies. And I kissed Vivian’s neck. I don’t think those particular events change everything for me. Does it? I don’t know. I really don’t know.
“Jake, what… what are you thinking?” I ask.
“I don’t know… I’m… at a loss for words. Was it something I did… or didn’t do?” he asks, sadly.