Tangents, vol 1

by Rae Agatha

  They were lying on the sofa, covered with a thick blanket, eating the biscuits left on the coffee table, watching the TV, and hugging.

  “So, I’ve noticed you came alone to the party,” Monica said.

  “Guilty as charged,” Rick replied. “I’ve noticed you came alone, too.”

  “True. I mean, you know, my devious plan, right from the beginning, was to catch you in my net – “

  “Oh, really?” He smiled broadly.

  “You bet,” she laughed and kissed him. “I wasn’t sure if you were single, though.”

  “And you were still that determined, after all, huh?”

  “Impressed?”

  “Very much, indeed,” he kissed her. “Well, my last girlfriend broke up with me more or less a year ago. We were together for almost eleven months. This was, actually, my longest relationship.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “A lot of things. Guess the biggest issue was that she was expecting me to be, well, more independent, financially speaking. And, you know, I have my priorities, I want to focus on developing a career, this has been the center of my attention for a long time. I’m okay, for now at least, to be living the way I do, to be working part-time and freelance. It gives me the sense of a minimum stability, and allows me to work on my degree, to concentrate on my writing.”

  “Sure, it makes sense, I totally understand it.”

  “Because, FYI, I’m just a poor, aspiring author, you’ve been warned.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “I mean, we’re twenty-five. We still have some time to become serious, don’t we? One positive thing about my relationship with Kelly, though, was that she made me quit smoking.”

  Monica smiled.

  “Although,” Rick continued, “I don’t think relationship is the right word. I don’t think I’ve had any serious one so far. Eleven months is not exactly a world record, is it? And yet it’s been the longest time someone has put up with me. What about you? Any luck in Chicago?”

  “Oh yes, I’ve been very lucky in Chicago, this is why I’m gonna have to kick you out of my bed now, and ask you to leave before my boyfriend comes,” she laughed.

  “Technically, it’s a sofa,” Rick replied and started tickling her.

  “Oh God, stop that, ha, ha, oh my God!” She was laughing and screaming.

  “Do you really want me to go?” He asked her laughing.

  “No, no, stay, oh my God, stay, ha, ha, ha!” She replied giggling.

  “I was in a relationship for two years,” she continued when she was able to catch a breath again. “It was my first one, in every possible meaning of those words. It didn’t last long because the thing just— burned out, as simple as that. He met someone else, he left me and I moved on. Actually, I moved out. Came back here, although it wasn’t immediately after the break-up.”

  Rick turned around and lay on his right side, Monica was lying on her back, looking at him.

  “To be frank, she wouldn’t stand a chance, anyway,” he said softly looking at her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If there was anyone else, if I had a girlfriend. With you coming back, nobody else matters to me.”

  Monica felt her heart racing. She smiled and deep down wished for the moment to last forever. This was where she wanted to be; with him, alone, covered by him, hidden from the world. She gently pulled his head toward her and kissed him.

  ***

  “So, how come we never visit your mom?” Rick asked when he was finishing unpacking the last cardboard. It was spring outside, the very first weekend in May. They were listening to Metallica’s Black Album and putting his things on shelves and hangers. A week before, Monica asked him to move in with her. It was kind of a formality anyway as he was spending basically every night at her apartment. However, having all his things at his place was becoming more and more problematic. While working on his novel, he needed his books and dictionaries. Rick was systematically brining his vinyl records, cassettes, VHSes, pieces of clothing, cosmetics. His typewriter had been living with them for over three months. Monica finally said it was time he officially moved in. They redecorated the loft a bit, moved the furniture around, bought a bigger desk, some additional bookshelves and a new, more capacious wardrobe. Finally, he borrowed a car from his mother and moved all of his things to her place.

  “There’s just no need to do that,” Monica replied.

  Rick turned around, looked at her and saw that her face became tense.

  “Is she fine?” He asked.

  “Janice is fine, as far as I know. There’s just no need for us to invite her or to visit her. There’s no need for us to have anything to do with her, actually,” she was sitting on the floor and quite nervously tossing things in the cardboard. Janice?

  “Why is that? I remember your mom, she was a nice person.”

  “Well, she’s not a nice person, okay? We’re not seeing her any time soon, trust me!” She hissed angrily.

  Rick raised his eyebrows in surprise, stopped unpacking the cardboard and looked at her attentively. He did not know whether he should have continued or dropped the topic; Monica’s reaction was completely unexpected.

  He got up, came closer to her and bent his knees to look her straight in the eyes.

  “What it is, Mon? Why are you angry?”

  She did not reply, but stopped tossing the things, and looked at him; the coldness of her sight took him aback.

  “I’ll be okay in a minute. Let’s just not talk about her again, okay? About Janice. Ever.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I’m telling you, Rick, I do not want to talk about her,” Monica repeated silently and covered her mouth. Her eyes were becoming teary.

  She squinted and waited a few seconds for the feeling to be gone, waving her face with her hand. Rick sat next to her and embraced her.

  “We won’t be talking about anything you don’t want to talk,” he said softly.

  Monica nodded, sniffed, got up and went to the bathroom. Rick was sitting on the floor wondering what had just happened. He remembered Monica’s mother, Janice, as she would now call her, and could never recall anything suspicious about her. There were times he would spend entire days at Monica’s place, and it always seemed that her mom liked him. He remembered her as the one who would always bring them lemonade during summertime, and the one who’d offer hot chocolate during winter. Rick remembered that she would always ask him how school was and how the swimming competitions would go. Monica’s mom had always seemed to be a likable person.

  When Monica left for Chicago and was consequently limiting her contact with Rick, he would often come to her mom. At first to complain about Monica, to ask her to let her daughter know that he was waiting for a letter, or a phone call. When it turned out she had no influence on her daughter’s behavior, he would just come from time to time to ask if she needed any help or to ask how Monica was doing. He stopped coming about two years after Monica had left; he had a feeling he was no longer welcomed.

  Something must have happened. Rick had a feeling it had something to do with Monica’s disappearance, but, although he was dying to find out what it was, he knew it was Mon’s decision when she was going to tell him. Provided she ever would. And if not, he was fine with it.

  Monica came out of the bathroom and asked them to go out to grab a bite. She did not mention her mother.

  ***

  About two weeks later, they were lying in bed, breathing heavily after just having sex. With blood still pulsing in their veins and their grips not yet loosened, Monica went completely silent, moved away from him, sat on her part of the bed and covered herself up with a quilt. She put a pillow behind her back to soften the bed’s backrest and curled up her knees. A night lamp was casting a bit of light on her face and Rick realized she looked immensely sad. He sat up as well, not sure if she wanted him to hug her, or to keep his distance, and was looking at her, waiting.

  “When the fina
l term of our last high school year started, Janice started dating this one guy. His name was Robert. He was no good, but, for some unknown reason, Janice was delighted with him. She met him at a bar one night, and he would start coming over to our house soon afterwards. He was a real sponger. He would come to our place, eat our food, Janice would wash his clothes, and he would occasionally fix something at home, but he would always be deeply unhappy or even irritated when she would ask him to do anything.”

  “I don’t remember Robert, I don’t think I’ve ever met him.”

  “That was the time we almost stopped hanging around my place, remember?”

  It was true. During those last few months before going to Chicago, Monica did not want them to spend time at her home as often as they used to. They would rather just be outside or go to Rick’s place, he had never thought of it. Monica sniffed. “Could you pass me the tissues? I don’t have any here on my nightstand.”

  “Of course,” he said, reached out to a drawer by his side of the bed and gave Monica a package of tissues. “You don’t need to tell me anything, Mon, it’s okay.”

  “I know, but I want to. I need to.”

  She cleaned her nose.

  “I never liked Robert. For me, he had always been a nasty type. He was a car mechanic or a plumber or something, I never knew but he was just – he was appalling. There was always a delicate but sour and quite repulsive scent of sweat around him that would always put me off. And his teeth, God…gross. Anyway, he would always come to our place whenever he wanted to. Sometimes he would stay for a night, sometimes he would just drink a beer or two and leave. There were times he wouldn’t show up for a long time only to finally come and crash nonstop for days. Janice would always nurse a grudge against him for that, for the disappearing, but he would just tell her “oh come on, baby, I’m a man, you know, I need my freedom, my space,” he’d kiss her and later on bang her at night – Janice’s bedroom was just next to mine, I usually heard everything – and she was, miraculously, fine again.”

  Monica cleared her nose. Rick was listening to her attentively, he had a horrifying hunch as to where this whole story was going.

  “I hated him. I was scared of him. I wasn’t able to find myself a place at home whenever he was around, it was a nightmare. I asked Janice numerous times why she would be with Robert in the first place. I told her he was like a parasite, that he wouldn’t give us, her, anything, but would come whenever he pleased, he would use her to take care of his sorry ass, that he was unreliable. At first Janice would try to explain to me she saw nothing wrong with that, that Robert and she wasn’t anything serious, that she was just trying to have some fun, as, since my father had left us, she wasn’t able to find anyone for herself and she was sick and tired of being alone. When I came to her again, with similar questions, she just – slapped me. She slapped me, Rick.” Monica sniffed, her eyes were shining. Two big tears fell quickly down her cheeks. Rick reached out to her and dried her with his hand. Monica swallowed loudly, dried her eyes with a tissue she was now creasing in her hands and continued.

  “God, it stung, I remember it so well, it was so humiliating. She finally said to me that if I kept on telling stuff like that, she would eventually tell Robert everything and that I would be sorry, so I better hold my tongue and think twice before acting all stupid again,” Monica sighed heavily. She looked at Rick. “Every time I think I have all of this behind me, every time I think I no longer care, that I’ve come to terms with all of this, I end up crying, Rick. The moment she hit me, she became Janice, and she will always be Janice.”

  He leaned closer, hugged her tight, kissed her forehead and started stroking her hair to calm her down; she put her head on his shoulder.

  “It’s all right, Mon, you’re here with me, and you’re safe.”

  “I know, I know,” she kissed him and sat straight again. She was now holding his hand.

  “Janice told Robert about my attitude anyway. Even though I stopped asking her all of the inconvenient questions, she still told him. And he waited. Waited for his opportunity to get me.”

  Monica gripped Rick a bit stronger.

  “Remember when we came back from our bike trip, that one but last weekend I was to spend at home?”

  “Y – yes,” Rick had to clear his voice. “We went to hang out near the ocean.”

  “When I came back, Janice was out. She went with her friend to a bar. And Robert was there. At home. I left my bike at the porch and stepped inside. I closed the door, took my jacket off and went to the kitchen to eat something. I knew Janice was out, so I wasn’t surprised it was dark all over the place. I walked into the kitchen and turned the light on. And – and there he was. Robert. Bobby,” she scoffed. Monica took a deep breath and continued. “He told me that Janice complained to him about my attitude, that I did not accept him. He asked me what my problem with him was. He was drunk. I was paralyzed, I couldn’t move or say anything, I knew he was only waiting for a pretext to let the aggression he had inside of him go, so I was just standing there, having the worst feeling. Robert was angry with me, but when I did not say anything, it only made the matters worse. He came closer to me, hit me on the face, grabbed and squeezed my cheeks – the way you do when you want to force a dog to open its mouth and take its medicine – and told me that he never wanted to hear about me complaining to my mother about anything again. He said I had no respect for her, that I had no appreciation, that I was useless as a daughter, that I was a freak. I thought, I would die. I was so, so scared.”

  She covered her face and started crying. Rick embraced her again, he had a feeling his heart would break.

  “He hit me again and let me go. I ran out of the house. I already knew I had gotten accepted to Chicago, and I knew I was going away. I must have had some kind of a premonition, I guess, because I never told Janice I got accepted, so I felt really blessed to have the chance, this opportunity to escape, to leave her and that psycho. I knew it wasn’t my home anymore, that it wasn’t my mother anymore. I came back late at night. Janice was waiting for me in the living room, Robert wasn’t there anymore. When I entered the home, she turned the light on and saw the bruises on my face. She looked at me carefully and said: “I told you not to complain. Put some ice on it, you’ll be fine.” And she went to bed. I have never felt so lost, so rejected like then.”

  “That is why you escaped. You wanted to forget all this,” Rick said quietly. “Why didn’t you come to me, when it all happened?”

  “I wanted to, at first, but I knew you were going on that camping trip with the boys the next day and when we were coming back from our ocean trip, you told me you were heading home to sleep a little as you were all leaving very early.”

  “You think I’d prefer to sleep instead of helping you?”

  “No, no, I – I just did not want to be anybody’s burden,” she replied sobbing.

  “Oh my God, Mon,” he whispered and kissed her eyes. It was very painful seeing her like that. “How was it possible I did not see anything when I came back? Mon, I am so, so sorry.”

  “When you came back from your camp about a week later, the bruises were almost invisible and I used make up to cover them up, anyway. I was too embarrassed to say anything. The night just before my leave, Janice thought I was going on a trip with the girls from school, about a week after he had attacked me in the kitchen, Robert was staying at our home again. I couldn’t sleep knowing he was close. In the middle of the night, I remember it was exactly 2:00 a.m., I glanced at the watch on my desk, he came to my room.”

  Rick froze.

  “I was horrified. Robert came, kneeled beside my bed, and was looking straight into my eyes. His breath reeked of alcohol. He reached out to me and touched my face, stroked my lips with his thumb. I was so scared, I thought I would puke. I couldn’t move, I was just praying he would leave, that he wouldn’t do anything else. Robert moved his fingers from my lips and stroked down my neck. He pulled my quilt down a little bit, uncovering me fro
m my waist up and asked me: “That little punk you keep on seeing – do you do that with him? Did he show you how? Did he stick it into you, yet?”

  Rick was listening to her in horror, breathing heavily, his thoughts were running through his head with the speed of lightning. Son of a bitch! Jesus Christ!