Ache

by P. J. Post

  He collapses back on his ass with his legs splayed out in front of him, clutching at his face.

  I swing my arms out to my sides, stretching and breathing. I’m pissed he went down so quickly, part of me wasn’t fucking done.

  I take a deep breath and let it go as I squat down and then smack him on the forehead with an open hand.

  He whimpers and then looks up.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  No response.

  I smack him again.

  “You broke my nose,” he muffles.

  “Yeah, I think I did. What’s your fucking name?”

  “Jim.”

  “Okay Jim, are you Shauna’s boyfriend?”

  “Not really.”

  I look at him questioningly.

  “We only went out a few times,” he says quietly.

  “So you never had sex with her then?”

  “No.”

  “Ever kiss her?”

  “No, she’s a tease.”

  I smack him on the head again. “Be nice.”

  I hear the usual crowd gathering.

  “Am I going to have to kick your ass every time I see you?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Are you going to leave Shauna alone?”

  “Yes,” he says pitifully.

  “Good boy. Are you always an asshole or just when you’re drinking?”

  He glares up at me and I muss his hair. “It was rhetorical, Jim.” I wonder if he has a drunk dad at home trying to teach him what it means to be a man too.

  I stand up and turn to see Shauna.

  Her eyes are wide with disturbed shock and surprise, like she’s just witnessed a deadly car accident. I can tell she doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know. She’s covering her mouth with one hand and seemingly trying to ward off the cruel vision that’s being thrust upon her with the other.

  Her eyes are glistening with tears of pity and revulsion and regret.

  This unclean thing standing before her — touched her.

  It’s like being slapped and having my heart ripped out all at the same time.

  I knew this was all too good to be true.

  Shauna’s look of pity will turn to fear soon enough, I know because I’ve seen it before. My dad took out a lot of his aggression on my back over the years and the story is there for anyone to read, carved into my flesh.

  And once they understand what they are seeing, like Shauna is now — the poor abused boy, they start judging and then move back, afraid I’m going to infect them, like I have plague or something — best not to get involved.

  My favorites were the people out in the Emergency Waiting Rooms, especially the mothers with their own kids. They’d see the bruises on my arms and wrists, some unmistakably in the shape of large hands and fingers, they’d smell the beer on my dad’s breathe and even listen to his lame excuses, but they never said shit. I’d sit there wheezing through broken and cracked ribs and they wouldn’t even look at me. Dad always said that I fell down the stairs, or off my bike, or from a tree — I was always falling, but they knew as sure as shit, they fucking knew what was up and they did fuck-all about it.

  And, after the doctors wrapped up my ribs and told me to be careful on those stairs next time, I’d crawl back up into that fucking station wagon. The looks of pity didn’t follow; they stayed in the waiting room, relieved to be free from the ugliness of the little boy.

  And now Shauna can see me for what I am, the little boy who wasn’t worth saving, the one who doesn’t matter.

  And that’s what I see reflected in her eyes — he’s ugly, better not to get involved.

  I could have taken anything but this — this judgment. Now I know this was never going to work. The weird feelings I was having and the Cadillac should have been enough of a sign on their own, before this. Everything I was feeling, that special something, is evaporating. Secrets can’t be kept and when they spill out for everyone to see, this is what happens.

  I stop and stare at her from across the asphalt, her reaction is so devastating, I can feel it in my throat, my jaw and my stinging eyes, and then my anger saves me.

  “So now you think you know me? Is that it?” My voice is too loud, uncontrolled. This sucker punch made lover boy’s and Larry’s seem like sandbox play. After everything that just happened tonight, this sudden rejection is too much, just too goddamn much.

  She starts to get out of the Jeep, but I’m all rage now.

  “You don’t fucking know me. You don’t know shit! You’re right, I don’t have any sense. Why do I go in the pit? The truth is; I just don’t give a shit anymore — about anything. It’s all just filling up the boredom. I don’t care if I live or die! How’s that for honesty?”

  She sits back and just stares at me, confused. I can see she’s upset as the tears begin to stream down her face, but I know it’s for the wrong reason. It’s not for me, it’s never for me, it’s because I’m being an asshole to her. I’m not living up to her expectations and she’s not used to this, to me, to this disappointment.

  I turn to walk away. Now she can really see my scars under the parking lot lamps. Now she knows it would never have worked too.

  I bend over and grab my cap and slide it down over my head.

  “Connor!” she shouts at me.

  “Take your daddy’s Jeep home before you get grounded,” I shout as I walk away.

  I keep walking and Todd hands me my shirt and I pull it on.

  I can feel the blood running down the side of my face from my scalp, soaking into my cap.

  The scary part is there’s a lot of truth in what I said. I just never realized it before, never thought about it like that. Shauna took that emptiness away, without me even knowing or understanding what it was, but now I’m someplace worse. Now I see it for what it is. I always knew hope was evil; it makes you believe that shit can happen, shit like happiness or being worthy.

  I finally stop to see her pull out onto the main road, and she chirps the tires shifting into second. Shit, she drives a stick too. I can’t help but grin and then I remember — I’m lost, fucking lost. I never felt quite like this about anyone, well recently anyway, and now she’s gone. Just-like-that; it’s always just-like-that when you lose someone.

  Carla, Tonya and preppie boy come running out into the parking lot.

  “There you guys are. Kevin just quit the band. He’s going with The Freaks to California.” And then Tonya sees our faces and the blood, and suddenly she’s all concern. “What happened?”

  I stop and look back at Jim who’s still sitting in the parking lot holding his face. I walk back over to him and reach a hand down and help him up.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee before the cops get here, come on douche-bag.”

  Ringo has come upstairs to oversee. I nod to him and he takes Jim by the arm and guides him back inside.

  Carla looks at Jim with recognition and then back to me. “Where’s Shauna?”

  “She went home,” I say quietly, pointing. Her Jeep is sitting at the next red light down.

  Carla glares at me. “What did you do?”

  The anger has melted away and now I’m just tired. “I’m pretty sure I fucked up.”

  “I need to see Shauna. Tonya, want to take a ride?” Carla asks.

  Tonya looks to me with sadness. “Are you okay?”

  I just nod. No words will come.

  “We’ll talk later, okay?” She squeezes my hand and gives me a troubled look.

  I just nod again.

  Tonya says something to the preppie while Carla continues to glare at me, and then they head for her car.

  “Dude, are you okay?” Todd asks as he grabs my shoulder.

  The light has changed and I watch Shauna’s tail lights recede down the street. I’m overwhelmed by regret and I can’t take it back. The first chance I get, and just like that I’m hurting Shauna, someone I’m supposed to care about. It must run in my family.

/>   I’m pissed that our first time together, something I wanted to be special and romantic, turned into a parking lot grope fest — just like all the other girls.

  I’m pissed that I lost control and that my fucking past is still controlling my present.

  And what is it about preppie boy that makes me want to knock his teeth down his throat?

  “No dude, I’m not even close to okay.”

  12

  The Compassion and the Fury

  Todd and me get back to the Garage around four, after getting my head stitched up at the Emergency Room again, and unload our equipment. I nod as he leaves and collapse on the couch. Tonya isn’t here and I have no idea what is going on with Shauna. I don’t even have her phone number. But I can still smell her, taste her.

  I can remember Carla’s accusatory glare and Tonya’s troubled eyes.

  I thought I had a better handle on my shit.

  I just sit here, staring out the glass Garage doors. I nod off and get up to piss. I don’t eat. I don’t do anything, except replay how I treated her and my reaction to everything over and over in my head. I’m trying to figure out what went wrong, what changed, but still hoping she’ll give me another chance. I watch the sun come up and fill the room with the hope of a new day and then watch it fade into the gloaming — the gate to the realm of the lost. I’m still sitting there in a daze when Tonya and Carla walk in.

  Carla is glaring at me like she would enjoy nothing more than cutting my balls off and feeding them to me.

  Tonya is wearing jean shorts, a tank-top and flip-flops, none of which are hers. She’s acting weird and not being very reassuring.

  “How is she?” I ask.

  “Why do you fucking care?” Carla hisses at me.

  “Because I do.”

  “You, are an asshole,” Carla continues.

  “I know. You’re right. I over-reacted.”

  “You think?”

  “I wish I could take it back, but I fucked everything up.”

  Tonya slides down next to me and slips an arm around me as she lays her head on my shoulder. “Yeah, you really did.”

  “Any ideas how I can fix it?”

  “Are you fucking serious?” Carla shouts at me.

  “Yeah,” I say, but my voice sounds beaten.

  “No, stay away from her. You’ve hurt her enough, she deserves better than you” Carla says.

  “Is that what she said or what you said?” I ask.

  “Does it matter? I thought you were going to be good for her, but you’ve made everything worse than ever. I hope you feel like a man. You think she’s never seen anyone fight before?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Why else would you go off like that? Were you afraid she wouldn’t want to be with you if you got in a fight, so you decided to be an asshole first? You thought she was going to dump you?” Carla asks.

  “That doesn’t even make sense.” I say.

  “You don’t make sense,” Carla says as she paces the room.

  “Wait, what do you think happened?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure. You get in a fight, acting all macho instead of letting Shauna handle it like normal people do, and then you freak out like a crazy person. We can’t figure it out, other than you are a mean son of a bitch,” Carla responds.

  Shauna didn’t tell them about the scars. I don’t even think Tonya has seen them, she doesn’t know how bad it is. I wonder if Shauna made the connection as to why I wigged out, probably not. I bet she didn’t even know what she was looking at. I probably just looked like a lunatic, reacting to nothing more than genuine sadness for whatever injury I had suffered. And I rewarded that compassion with straight up meanness.

  It was all in my head.

  I wonder if everything else about last night was in my head. Apparently, I’m crazy too.

  “Oh, and by the way,” Carla says as she stands in front of me, scowling, “her daddy can’t ground her, because he and her mom died over a year ago.”

  Jesus Christ. I’m the world’s biggest dick. There’s no way to recover from this.

  I drop my head and fight down the rising emotion, childish notions of romance forgotten.

  I don’t know what to do to make Shauna feel better. I can’t forgive myself for even asking her out in the first place.

  “So, do you have any explanation?” Carla asks.

  I think about the scars, my head and my Mom. I clutch her cameo and squeeze it until it hurts. Yeah, I could explain it, but to what end? How does my history excuse my behavior now?

  “No,” I say.

  Tonya whispers, “I didn’t say anything, it’s not my place. But you could explain some of what happened to you. I think the problem is that Shauna doesn’t understand. I don’t think any of us understand, but I know something happened last night. Talking about it might help.”

  I stand up and walk away, then turn back, suddenly angry with them and myself.

  “You think if Shauna knew that my good old Dad broke a fucking beer bottle over my head last week, you think that would make everything better? You think if she knew how my mom died or why I know so goddamn much about emergency rooms that would make what I did, what I said, in any way forgivable? Do you really think that? I told her that her dead dad was going to ground her. Jesus Christ.”

  Carla suddenly looks confused, the self-righteousness fading away. “I don’t understand.”

  Tonya sighs. “Connor didn’t have the best childhood, okay? He didn’t know anything about Shauna’s parents. How could he?”

  “What set you off?” Carla asks.

  “I can’t explain it in a way you’d ever understand,” I say.

  “If it explains what happened, try me?” Carla starts.

  “No, I’m not good for her. I knew that from the beginning, but I was being a selfish prick, fucking dreaming. Seriously, I’m a piece of shit, just ask my Dad.” I rip back the bandages on my head and show Carla the stitched wounds. The bruises are still black. “Sweet, huh?”

  “Oh my God,” Carla says and covers her mouth. “Your dad did that?”

  And there it is again, I’m so sick of that piteous look I could vomit.

  “I’m a regular goddamn after-school special. Need a tissue? Or are you ready to go now because this shit makes you uncomfortable? Hey, you want to see the cigarette burns?”

  Carla’s eyes get glassy while she continues to cover her mouth. “How could I know?”

  “You don’t have to cover your mouth, you can’t catch it,” I say.

  The door opens and the same preppie dude from the bar last night walks in. He’s wearing khaki walking shorts, deck shoes without socks and a pink Polo with the white collar pulled up.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I shout.

  He looks bewildered. He’s not used to this shit either.

  “He’s Bradford,” Tonya says forcefully.

  “Bradford, why don’t get the fuck out before something unfortunate happens,” I say.

  Tonya glares at me. “This is my house and he doesn’t have to go anywhere. You can’t treat people like that, not here, I don’t care what happened. What’s your issue?”

  “Fine, I’ll leave. I’m just a pain in the ass for you anyway,” I say.

  Tonya’s anger turns to hurt. “No, you can stay, we’ll go. Why are you being such a jerk?”

  “It’s time to move on,” Carla says to Tonya.

  I glare at her. “Move on from what?”

  Carla’s anger has returned. “It’s not from what, it’s from who.”

  I see Tonya has tears in her eyes, but I just scowl and look out the windows, wishing they’d get what they came for and leave. I’ve fucked this up beyond repair and I don’t have any excuses.

  Bradford looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

  I turn away from them as they go to the door, their mission here apparently forgotten, when I say to Carla, “You’re right, she deserves better than me, you said so yourself. No one deserves th
is shit, except me.”

  And then I remember Tonya’s scars and how I just treated her, and I feel even worse.

  13

  The Dream

  I wake up later that evening on a sleeping bag spread out across the practice floor with Shauna wrapped around me, she’s soft and warm. I gently nudged her over and get up and stretch.

  I looked down at her, she’s incredibly sexy lying there, and yet somehow vulnerable. The sleeping bag is so inviting, I’m tempted to crawl back in and wake her up.

  I don’t remember when the party ended, but everyone else has disappeared. I guess Tonya is upstairs. I look out the front and see that Todd’s Nova is gone. Shauna’s four-by-four stands vigil in one corner of the lot.

  I’m standing there when I feel soft hands caress my stomach and then she’s tight against my back, her head on my shoulder. Even through the beer she smells good. One finger traces the top of my jeans and then caresses my stomach before sliding down my pants.

  “Whoa there,” I say, grabbing her hand gently and pulling it up to my lips and kissing it.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “Nothing, but I smell like crap, I’m dirty. I haven’t even taken a shower today, I’m gross.”

  “I don’t mind, you’ll never be gross to me,” she whispers in my ear as she licks my neck.

  I slip away from her embrace and pick up my guitar and begin to play a soft melody. I lean back against the Garage doors, and she kneels at my feet and lays her head against my leg. She’s wearing a white wife-beater and faded jeans.

  “That’s pretty,” she says.

  I keep playing. “What do you want to do this weekend?”

  “I thought we’d do something tonight.” She looks up pouting.

  I grin back. “Sure. What do you want to do — tonight?”

  “How about a club, we could go dancing?”

  “I’m kind of tired if clubs, we play out a lot.”

  “Please?”

  “Fine, where?”

  “Oh, there’s this new place downtown. We can dress up, it’ll be fun.”