Put Me Back Together

by Lola Rooney

  When the doorbell rang, I still hadn’t gotten dressed or put in my contacts. I drifted into the living room, pulling on a sweater to mask the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra under my pajama top, and opened the door.

  Lucas stood in the hall carrying two pizza boxes, a Styrofoam take-out container, a paper bag, and a pretty adorable goofy grin.

  “One of your neighbours let me in,” he explained. I took the pizza boxes out of his arms and moved aside so he could come inside. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got pizza, Cantonese chow mein, a hamburger, fries, and chicken nuggets.”

  “And a turkey dinner?” I said, eyeing all the food laid out on my coffee table.

  “Nope,” he said. “That’ll have to wait for next time.”

  Next time. I wanted those words to make me giddy with happiness, but they barely made an impression.

  I sat down on the couch while Lucas busied himself getting plates and cutlery out of the kitchen, another first. I actually didn’t think I’d ever had a guy inside my apartment before, except the super that time the radiator had stopped working. One nice side effect of my current mood was that I also couldn’t feel the insane discomfort Lucas’s presence so close to my dirty hamper and unflattering photos would usually have created.

  “I thought we were going out,” I said as he handed me my napkin and plate.

  “I thought I’d surprise you,” Lucas replied as he sat down next to me.

  When he’d piled his own plate high with food and I still hadn’t served myself—I think I’d also missed a couple of questions he’d asked me—Lucas put down his plate and turned to face me on the couch. He had such kind eyes. That was what you noticed when you were teetering on the edge of the bridge, about to go over—the people who looked on you with kindness and the ones who turned away.

  Lucas brushed a strand of hair off of my cheek. I wondered idly if I’d even brushed my hair that day.

  “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, and forced myself to sit up straight, to pick something to eat, to speak and move and live.

  It was a quiet meal, but not a strained one. Lucas seemed to sense that I wasn’t in the mood for our usual repartee and didn’t question it, which meant more to me than I could say. My most talkative moment came when the cat popped out from under the couch and rubbed himself against Lucas’s legs, and I told Lucas I’d decided to name the cat Turner after my favourite artist, Joseph Turner.

  “I guess he’s really yours, if nobody’s claimed him by now,” Lucas said.

  “He’s yours, too,” I insisted. “You helped rescue him.”

  “Well, then, I guess I’ll have to come over all the time,” Lucas said with a grin, “to visit him.”

  I almost managed a smile back.

  Lucas chatted a little about his roommate Eric’s awful girlfriend—she’d stolen his credit card and maxed it out, twice—and his classes, keeping the topics to things I didn’t have to respond to with much more than a laugh or a “Really?” He made it easy for me.

  When we finished eating, he put in a movie so I wouldn’t have to talk at all. We both leaned back on the couch under the same blanket and I put my head on his shoulder.

  And that was easy, too.

  10

  “Maybe it’s not too late to call him and cancel,” Anita said. Even I could hear the desperation in her voice, and I wasn’t even really listening. I was gripping my head so hard I thought my skull might cave in from the pressure—it made listening a lesser concern.

  “Chicks don’t cancel on Lucas,” a male voice said. “That shit just doesn’t happen.”

  “Shut up, Matt!” Emily cried. “You are not helping. Why are you even here?”

  “You invited me over,” Matt said.

  “Maybe she should lie down,” Anita suggested.

  “Don’t let her lie down,” Em said. “What if she swallows her tongue?”

  “Oh shit, for real?” Matt said.

  Anita said, “She’s not having a seizure!”

  Was I having a seizure? I didn’t think so, but then what did I know? Maybe intense nausea, a pounding headache, and the desire to weep and scream at the same time were what a seizure felt like. Or maybe it was just what being a big, fat, terrified baby felt like. It was an either/or situation.

  I was sitting on my sister’s bed in her room, flanked by Anita—it was her room, too—and Emily, with my head in my hands and my eyes squeezed shut. Earlier I had been screaming into a pillow, which had sparked Anita’s alarm. She’d never seen me like this before. Honestly, nobody had ever really seen me like this before. I’d only come to Emily’s room because I was seriously freaking the hell out and also I needed help with my hair and she had all the good hair products. And because I needed my sister.

  “Why did you say you’d go with him if you didn’t really want to?” Anita asked as she rubbed my back.

  “I want to go,” I replied miserably without opening my eyes. “This is me wanting to go.”

  I heard Matt laugh. “Damn, girl,” he said. “You’ve got problems.”

  “Get out!” Em cried, and I felt the bed shift beneath me as she got up and wrestled Matt toward the door.

  “Hey,” he protested. “You invited me over.”

  “And now this is me kicking you the hell out!” Em cried, slamming the door, presumably in his face.

  I heard a girl’s voice outside the door say, “Dude, that’s harsh!” and some laughter. Poor Matt would probably be hearing about this for a while.

  “God,” Em muttered. “I hate it when they keep coming back like that.”

  “You invited him over, you idiot,” Anita said in an irritated whisper. “If you don’t want them to get clingy, then don’t be such a tease!”

  “How dare you ignore my sister’s pain to chastise me,” Em replied haughtily, also in a whisper. “This is about Katie. Let’s take care of Katie.”

  “Maybe Katie’s freaking out because her sister’s a dirty little skank,” Anita shot back. I heard a thump, which I was pretty sure was Anita being hit by a pillow.

  “I’m a skank?” Em cried. “Who slept with Greg Ranski twice after he got back together with his girlfriend?”

  Thump, thump.

  I had to open my eyes for that one. “Oh my God, Anita,” I said to her.

  “That doesn’t make me a skank!” Anita protested, socking Em another time with the pillow from her bed. “That just makes me guilty of…bad decision making. Besides, that was first semester. We agreed that anything that happened first semester doesn’t count!”

  “Oh yeah? Well, count this!” Em said, brandishing a cushion from the armchair.

  A few minutes later, after a furious pillow battle that I think we all ultimately lost, we found ourselves lying on the floor in a row with our feet up on Manic Melanie’s bed, staring at the ceiling. I had a pink bunny slipper under my head.

  “It’s a party,” I said. “You know I’m no good at parties.”

  “That’s not true,” Anita said. “You’re good at everything.” I had no idea what she was basing this on, but it was reassuring, nonetheless.

  “What if I can’t think of anything to say?” I said.

  “Just think of what the coolest person you know would say in that exact situation and say that,” Em replied. “It works for me all the time. By the way, the coolest person you know is me.”

  That one was a little less reassuring. If I were going to be Em at this party, I’d have to do some serious drugs to get through the night.

  “What if they try to force me to play beer pong or quarters or do that thing where they make you drink beer out of a tube that kind of seems like waterboarding?”

  “Then tell them to fuck off!” Anita and Em both said at the same time, and we all cracked up.

  “What if they try to make me dance on a table?” I said.

  “Nobody ever makes someone dance on a table,” Anita explained. “It’s kind of a voluntary thi
ng. And I think we can all agree you won’t be volunteering.”

  “Hell, no!” I said.

  “I’ve got the perfect solution for all your worries,” Emily said. “Here it is: Drink as much as you can as fast as you can. Tada! No more worries.”

  I expected Anita to dismiss Em’s solution as quickly as I did, but instead I heard her agreeing.

  “Seems like a wise plan,” she said.

  “Guys, the only thing worse than going to this party with Lucas would be going to this party and getting plastered and throwing up all over Lucas,” I said. Considering how quickly I’d gotten drunk at The Limo, that was a real possibility. “I reject your solution!”

  “Seems like a wise choice,” Anita agreed in a bout of fickleness.

  “Okay, then, let’s talk about Lucas. He’ll be with you the whole time, right?” Em said. “Just stay with him. I’m sure he’ll take care of you.” I ignored her unspoken question: Because this is a date, right?

  “Except Lucas is a man-whore who can’t be trusted,” I reminded her. “You’re the one who told me that, remember?”

  “I once saw him go into a room with a girl at a party—I’m guessing to sleep with her—and then later go into another room with another girl—I’m guessing to sleep with her, too,” Anita piped up. “Then he went home with my friend Gretchen’s sister, but they didn’t sleep together. They just made out.”

  “What?” I cried.

  Emily half-sat up and glared at Anita. “Do you want to get the pillow again?” she threatened.

  “What?” Anita answered, not the least bit intimidated. “He is a man-whore. Everyone’s heard the stories about Lucas. He’s done half the girls on campus, and probably most of the townies, too. Girls fall at his feet wherever he goes, and they always come back for more. That insane brawl in the cafeteria last year where one girl got a hunk of her hair pulled out and the other lost a tooth? That fight was over Lucas. Katie should know what she’s up against.”

  I seriously felt like I was going to be sick.

  “What if he tries to take me into a room?” I said. The idea was simultaneously enthralling and horrifying.

  “Then you only go in if you want to,” Emily replied.

  “What if he doesn’t try to take me into a room?” I said.

  “Then you call me from the bathroom, where you’ll be hiding,” Emily said. Though I resented it, this was an accurate statement.

  “What if he goes into a room with another girl?” I said.

  “He invited you, Katie, didn’t he?” Anita said. “That means something. Even if he used to be a slut, he has good taste now. Maybe he’s changed.”

  “Maybe he’ll surprise you,” Emily agreed.

  “What if he leaves me alone?” I said, turning my head to the side so I was staring at the side of my sister’s face, a face that looked so much like my own and yet, not at all.

  I saw Em stiffen. She knew what I was referring to. When she turned to face me, her expression was more serious than it had been all evening.

  She said, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

  An hour later I was sitting on a bench outside Ban Righ Hall waiting for Lucas, feeling a little less like I was going to throw up and a little more like I might live through the night, though I wasn’t positive about it. It was a mild night for early March, and I didn’t really need the gloves I was wearing but I kept them on anyway. They stopped me from twisting my fingers, which I desperately wanted to do right then. In the end the girls had said the clothes I was wearing were unacceptable, and after a near-fight with Emily over her insistence that I wear her red halter, I’d settled on a cute teal-coloured dress of Anita’s, a pair of patterned tights, and Em’s calf-length suede boots, proffered to me in a moment of real sisterly selflessness—which was only slightly ruined by her telling me that if I stained them she would stab me to death with one of my paint brushes. They’d piled my hair on top of my head and secured it there with a pair of black lacquered chopsticks. I’d even let them put a little makeup on me.

  I looked good and that made me feel strong. What I liked even more about it was that I looked just slightly like someone other than myself, which made me feel like someone other than myself, which was a good thing. Maybe this other me could get through a university party in one piece. She was the one who’d gotten us into this mess in the first place, clearly, since I hadn’t been the one to agree to go to this party with Lucas. That was all her.

  Lucas and I had gotten into a nice routine lately almost without my being aware of it. The Monday after our stay-in lunch he’d asked me if I wanted to grab some food after art class and I’d agreed, mostly because I was hungry and I’d come to realize that Lucas knew all the best cheap places to eat. We’d gotten poutine at Earl’s Kitchen and then he’d walked me back to my apartment. And then we’d done the same the next day after working in the studio, and then again on Thursday.

  He didn’t mention the sketches or the moment we’d had outside my apartment, though several times it seemed like he wanted to. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of cue from me. But I was happy just to leave things as they were, the two of us buddies—although I had to admit he seemed to take every opportunity to touch me that he possibly could—our banter light even if our gazes were heavy. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t exactly easy to sit across from him watching him eat a taco in the messiest possible way and not lunge over the table and kiss him. Actually, it was pretty much agony. But nothing had changed. He was still a player. I still didn’t need a boyfriend, or a hookup, or a whatever. Having Lucas as my friend was a big enough change for now. It was a bigger change than I’d ever thought I would make—that was for sure. I didn’t need more right now. I needed strong and stable, and that was Lucas. I needed comfortable, and somehow that was him, too. I was getting used to him.

  So when he asked me if I wanted to go with him to a party Friday night, I heard myself giving the comfortable answer, the answer I’d been giving him all week. I heard the casual, “Sure, sounds good,” flowing off my tongue, and I wondered who the heck I had become.

  Who was this new Katie, friends with Lucas Matthews, going to games with him, and sharing fries with him and letting him take her to parties?

  I understood the old Katie. I knew her limits. But what were the new Katie’s limits? What could the new Katie handle? And if the new Katie suddenly disappeared, leaving the old Katie in her place, what the hell was I supposed to do then?

  My great look armor had basically started to disintegrate and I was about two seconds from running for my life when Lucas appeared on the path to my left. Slutty man-whore Lothario Lucas. But he didn’t seem slutty to me. Seeing him was a breath of fresh air and as I got to my feet I found myself drinking in the sight of him, every beautiful well-sculpted inch. It was weird the way just looking at him and knowing he was near made me feel strong. Maybe that was how the new Katie handled it all. She didn’t handle it alone. She had Lucas by her side.

  “What are you doing out here in the cold?” Lucas said. “You should have waited inside for me.”

  Reaching out, he ran his hand up and down the back of my coat, which only pressed me closer to him. I got the impression that was kind of the point.

  “It’s not that cold; I’m wearing gloves, and it’s not even below zero. Why are we going to this party?” I said in one big rush, forcing out the question I didn’t even realize I’d been holding in. The validity of the question didn’t stop me from staring at the ground in embarrassment as Lucas barked out a laugh.

  “I mean,” I continued—wow, the cement really was fascinating!—“I know you haven’t been going to a lot of parties…”

  “You know that?” Lucas said. I could just picture the glint in his eye as he said it. “And how do you know that?”

  “Well, you know, Em mentioned…”

  This time I could see him bending down to get a better look at my face. “So you’ve been talking to your sister about me?” His warm, minty
breath against my face made me shiver.

  “Oh, shut up!” I said, looking up at last, narrowing my eyes at him. “Emily knows you and I are friends.”

  Lucas stood tall again as we started walking down the path. “There’s that word again,” he said as he put his arm around my shoulder. “Friends.”

  I chose to ignore this, even though being snug in the crook of his arm, my side pressed into his, was making my heart skip every second beat.

  “But really,” I persisted, “what changed your mind? I thought you wanted to stay away from the party scene. What made you want to go to this one all of a sudden?”

  “You mean besides the terrible free beer and awful conversation and, oh God, those friends of mine? They really are a miserable bunch,” he said. His tone was light and sarcastic, but I suddenly felt as though I’d stepped in something. Did he sense that I had no interest in meeting his friends or drinking their beer or talking to them? Was old Katie rearing her ugly head?

  “I mean, no,” I said frantically. “What I mean is… I didn’t mean—”

  He stopped and took me by the shoulders. “Katie,” he said softly, but firmly. “I was just kidding.”

  I felt my whole body sag with relief. Jesus, we hadn’t even made it off campus and I was already exhausted.

  “And to answer your question,” he went on, pushing a stray curl behind my ear, “I couldn’t think of a good reason to go to those other parties. That’s why I didn’t go.”

  I nodded, eager to be agreeable, though I still didn’t really feel like I understood.

  Then he took my chin in his hand and tilted my face up toward his. Unconsciously, I found myself leaning in. It was incredible, like he was the flame and I was the moth. I just couldn’t stop gravitating toward his touch.

  He said, “I guess I was just looking for a good excuse.”

  “So what’s your excuse?” I breathed.