In Control (The City Series)

by Crystal Serowka

  So I did.

  He stood, gripping his fingers around my own, and pulled me up. Just like earlier, he didn’t let go right away. We stood there, alone in the hallway, facing each other in silence. Porter opened his mouth and my ears perked up.

  “Let’s try this again. This time, if you drop the pen, I’ll pick it up.” His joke made me laugh, and as the air left my stomach, I felt more relaxed.

  I grabbed the pen, holding it tighter in my fingers this time, and picked up our yearbooks from the floor. “I’ll sign yours if you sign mine?”

  “Deal,” Porter said, reaching his hand out for my book.

  “I saved a page for you too,” I said shyly, turning to the page.

  Porter looked at the page and then up at me. His smile split my heart wide open.

  If this was what love felt like, I would sacrifice everything.

  “Okay, you go over there,” he pointed to the set of lockers across from him. “And I’ll stay here.”

  I nodded and walked to the spot. Getting comfortable, I sat down and placed the yearbook on my lap, looking at Porter to see that he had the same idea. The first time I laid eyes on Porter, I knew exactly how I felt about him. I bottled up so many words over the school year that I could have written pages upon pages in his yearbook, but I knew how crazy that would seem to him. In black ink, I addressed the boy whose smile had given me every reason in the world to keep living.

  Dear Porter Henning,

  I turned on Wren’s iPod, my hands shaking so uncontrollably I was barely able to hold onto the small device. I feared the unknown. Was I going to have to endure lyrics about love gone wrong? Were they going to rip me apart and leave me so broken I’d never be able to piece myself back together? I wasn’t sure, but this was something I had to do.

  There was only one playlist, and looking at the name, I knew it was meant for me.

  September 6th.

  I sank to the floor, staring at the title. Wren remembered the exact day we met. I studied the date longer, my focus glazing over. If I pressed play, it would be possible that I’d drown in my own tears. Wren had a knack for displaying his emotions through songs. When his words fell short, he’d always have a song that could sum it all up. I remember a few months ago, I wanted to go out drinking, but Wren wanted to stay in. We stayed up arguing until the sun began to peak through the windows. Wren walked out of the room and when he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying his iPod. Without saying anything else, he put the earbuds in my ears, kissed my cheek, and left the room. I didn’t understand how song lyrics could wash away all traces of anger. I couldn’t even remember why I was mad in the first place. The words that were sung in my ears had somehow repaired everything.

  I only put in one earphone, thinking that if I only committed fifty percent, like I had in my relationship, it couldn’t hurt me as much. Readying myself, I pushed on the playlist, and the screen displayed four artists. Four songs that were going to split my heart in two.

  I pushed play.

  Twenty-five seconds in and I could already feel the seams of my heart ripping apart. In those seconds I was clutching at my chest, hoping that I could keep it from breaking. My eyes were filled with tears and my throat was forming a million words I wanted to scream so that wherever Wren was, he could hear what I was experiencing. I put in the other earphone just as the second song began playing. I turned up the volume as loud as it could go, drowning out the sobs that were now escaping my mouth.

  The hardwood floor beneath me was cold, bringing a comfort to my blazing skin. I lay on my back, placing the device on my stomach. Closing my eyes, I took in each instrument, each note, every single lyric that was pouring into my ears. I couldn’t have been lying on the floor for very long, but as the last song began playing, the sunlight disappeared from the bay window. I didn’t want the mix to end. As it played, I felt like I was still holding on to the remains of what I had with Wren.

  The night I met him, I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. The only thing I was searching for was the high-priced whiskey on the top shelf. When the two of us ended up in the bathroom together, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. My thoughts were jumbled. I hope he doesn’t rip my skirt. I feel a little self-conscious in front of this guy. I want to devour him for every meal.

  I didn’t expect to casually have sex with Wren every day, in the bathroom at The Commodore, that first week. When Wren asked me if I wanted a change of scenery, I said yes, surprised by my answer. Over the next few months, we didn’t go out on dates. He didn’t buy me ice cream as we strolled along the streets of New York. We had sex. A lot of it. Neither of us discussed our feelings or our pasts, and I thought we both liked it that way.

  Two months ago, something happened, though. I was walking down the street and passed an elderly couple. They were holding hands as the woman nuzzled the man’s neck and the sincerity of the touch stung my eyes with tears. When they passed, I looked back at them, studying their affection for one another. The man grasped her fragile hand, almost holding her up with all of his own strength. I’d never had any doubts about the way I had lived my life until that moment.

  That night, I was set to tell Wren about the couple, and how they made me realize that the choices I’d made up to that point were all wrong. I’d given my body away to countless men, and I never expected anything in return. I never wanted anything in return. Until now. The words were all set to take flight. Then, like a damaged airplane, they crashed and burned. I couldn’t possibly be the first one to say my feelings out loud. So I waited.

  It didn’t take me long to realize how Wren felt. His feelings were admitted through his touch. How he squeezed my hand after we had sex. The way he would look at me over his mug of coffee each morning. I didn’t have to hear his words to know, but still, his admission made me feel like I had won a prize. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t left empty handed. I was holding his heart.

  I replayed the moment in my mind just as the last song ended. Seventeen minutes and forty-nine seconds of forcing myself to see the truth within the songs. It was time to finally let go of my restraint. Let go of my fear.

  Barefoot and exposed, I was out the door before my brain could comprehend what was happening. My heart was on display, revealing the feelings I tried so hard to conceal. Wren hadn’t walked very far. He stood at the corner of the street, his hands pushed into his pockets as he stared at the cars passing by. He had a chance to cross several times, but he didn’t move. It was like crossing that street meant he was done with me, but staying showed that he couldn’t give up. I looked at him in the distance, praying to God that he wouldn’t walk away. In those seconds, I made so many promises:

  I won’t ever treat another person like shit.

  I’ll stop hating myself so much and learn to love.

  I’m trying. I’m trying so hard, God.

  I’m sorry I stopped believing in you.

  I’m sorry I blamed you for everything that happened to me.

  Please, allow me to feel what real affection could be like.

  “Wren!” I yelled as I ran down the sidewalk, dodging the scattered rocks and broken tree branches. “Wren!”

  When he turned around, his smile stopped me in my tracks. He shook his head, looking as if he couldn’t believe that I was chasing after him. When I reached him, my lips parted, allowing the words to finally escape.

  “I wanna try.”

  Three words. Different from the ones he said, but the underlying meaning was the same.

  When I woke up this morning in Wren’s arms, I didn’t imagine being confronted with feelings that I kept locked inside. If I wanted to keep Wren in my life, I would have to show him the deeper parts of me. The parts I’d only shown one other person. Now that they were out in the open, I might finally know what happiness is.

  Dear Kingsley,

  I’m glad we finally talked. It only took all year! Just so you know, I wanted to talk to you so many times, but you were always so quiet a
nd mysterious. This morning I was going to tell you something. Well, here it is. I think you’re really pretty, and your smile, like the one on your face right now, could stop traffic.

  Porter Henning

  P.S. Wanna come with me to Cafe Grumpy sometime?

  My words left Wren in disbelief, and as we walked back to my apartment, he kept asking me to repeat myself.

  “Just say it one last time,” he pleaded.

  “I’m not saying it again. You heard it loud and clear the first ten times.”

  He pulled my hand into his and we walked past the brownstones. The streets were lined with proud parents watching their children play. I imagine if I had grown up on this street, my life would have turned out much differently. Maybe I wouldn’t know what heartbreak was. Maybe the most terrifying thing that would have happened to me was a stolen bicycle or losing at a game of hopscotch. If I had grown up on a street as nice as this one, maybe I would be intact.

  A young boy and girl were playing catch in their front yard, and the large red ball they were playing with landed right in front of Wren and me. Wren picked up the ball and turned in their direction.

  “This your ball, little guy?” he asked over the noise of the traffic.

  “Yeah!” the boy and girl responded in unison.

  “I’m gonna throw it back. Who wants to catch it?”

  I watched their animated faces as they jumped up and down in excitement, arguing over which one would catch the ball.

  “Okay, here it comes!” Wren cupped the ball in his large hand and pretended to throw it in their direction. “Gotcha!”

  “Aw, c’mon!” the little girl shouted.

  “Okay, okay. Here it comes.” Wren finally threw their ball back to them, and we both watched the kids playfully trample one another in hopes of catching it.

  It landed a few feet from the girl, and she jumped on top of it, trapping it beneath her body. I watched with a smile on my face, looking up at Wren every so often; he held the same expression.

  “What’s going on up there?” Wren asked, tapping his finger against my temple.

  “Nothing really,” was my response, though in truth, my imagination was soaring with thoughts of having kids of my own someday, and how Wren would be the perfect fit to that equation.

  “Nothing on your mind?” Wren looked at me in disbelief. “Out with it.”

  I chuckled. “I was just thinking about all the fun we’ll have in the Hamptons.”

  “And you’ll get to meet my mom. That may actually be the highlight of your vacation,” he said sarcastically, grabbing my hand and continuing down the street.

  My smile fell. I hadn’t thought about meeting any of his family. Like any caring parent, they would want to know who their son was bringing home. They’d inquire about my past, where I was raised, what my parents did. The answers to those questions weren’t easy, and as soon as they found out that I was filth, they’d kick me out of their fancy home.

  “Your parents aren’t going to like me. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Maybe—”

  Wren stopped walking and put his hand over my mouth, pulling me into his chest and holding me as strangers walked past. I was usually so bothered when anyone showed affection in public, but as we stood there on the sidewalk, traffic rushing past us, I didn’t feel the need to pull away like I would have in the past. It felt okay. Almost good.

  “My mom is going to love you. Just as much as I do.” Wren whispered the last part, almost as if he knew that whispering the words in my ear would sink in even more.

  The silence between us stung, and as he let go me, I knew I had disappointed him. He walked ahead, not turning around to see if I was following. When I caught up, Wren’s happiness seemed to have disappeared. He trotted the sidewalk silently, acting as if I weren’t even there.

  “Did I do something?” I asked, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

  “You can’t say it yet, can you?”

  “Say what?” I knew what he was asking, but I couldn’t say those words out loud. If only he could read my mind, he’d hear them. Loud and clear. I’d shout them over and over until they were carved into my veins.

  “How long do I have to wait for you to tell me how you feel? How many times am I going to have to get over the fact that you can’t say three simple words?”

  Wren demanded an answer, but I didn’t know how to give it to him. The words were trapped inside of me.

  “Give me time. Please.”

  “I’ve waited a long time for this feeling, Kingsley. I’m not going to give up, but I hope that what you’re holding inside is what I need.” He held my face in his hands, his eyes piercing into mine. Within them, I could see hope. I could see that he wanted me. Needed me. His eyes pleaded with mine to let go of my inhibitions.

  I could have told him I loved him as he ascended the stairs, but I didn’t. Just the thought of being in love terrified me. Love brought on a bunch of other problems, and I witnessed those all before. I didn’t know if my heart could handle that kind of pain again.

  I walked into my bedroom just as Wren was picking up my suitcase from the corner of the room. Since I had just gotten back from Juilliard, I hadn’t had much time to unpack. Clothes were thrown over every surface. My closet doors were open, with empty hangers dangling from the knobs.

  When I moved into this room three years ago, Trish asked me what color I wanted to paint my walls. The only word I’d focused on in that sentence was the word my—everything else I ignored. I’d never had my own bedroom, and just the idea of not having to share my space with moving boxes or scary bugs had me jumping for joy. I kept asking her if she was sure. Are you sure there’s no one else moving in? I get the entire bedroom to myself? Trish just laughed, answering each question with, “I’m positive,” and, “yes.” After I got over the shock of having so much space for myself, I was able to paint my walls a deep purple. The same color as Ms. Cole’s ballet studio.

  “Wren, what are you doing?” I sat down on the end of my bed, crossing my legs.

  “We leave for the Hamptons in two days. We need to get you packed before you change your mind.” Wren didn’t look my way as he spoke. He was cleaning out my luggage, taking out a stray sock, an old plane ticket, and a hairbrush that I thought I’d lost.

  “Can you just stop for a second?” I said, crawling over the clothing on the bed. I placed my hands on top of his.

  As he held a pair of my broken earrings, he looked at me. His eyes told me everything. Wren needed a few minutes to reset. I had to give him some time to calm down.

  I walked into the living room and lay on the couch. It was brand new and it still smelled like the warehouse Trish purchased it from. I moved onto my back and stared up at the recessed lights. When they were the only lights on, the ceiling resembled the night sky. The lights almost looked like stars, and anytime I was in a bad mood, I’d always lie in that exact spot. I’d focus on each light until my eyes went blurry, and then moved onto the next one. One night, I counted them, hoping it would lull me to sleep. I counted up to twenty before I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

  Wren walked into the living room and sat down in the small space left over. “Your feet are filthy,” he said as he lifted my legs and placed them on his lap.

  “That’s what happens when you get a girl to run after you without any shoes on.”

  A small smile crept onto his lips. His fingers moved across my toes lightly, and I quickly jerked my body away. There were two things I absolutely hated in this world: clingy men and being tickled. Wren was aware of both.

  “Don’t you dare!” I yelled, backing into the corner of the couch. I liked his face a lot, and I’d feel really bad about bruising it, but if he came any closer, I wouldn’t hesitate to strike.

  Wren slowly crawled closer to me, looking as if he were a wild animal stalking his prey. “C’mon, K,” he sang, reaching for my foot.

  “Get away from me.” I showed him my clenched fist, hoping he’d give up. “I mean it,
Wren. I’ll hit you.”

  “You wouldn’t hit me. You like my face too much,” he challenged.

  He grabbed onto my ankle just as my fist met his bicep. At first I didn’t feel anything, but then all at once, pain shot through my hand. I cradled it against my chest, jumping off of the couch and running toward the kitchen, where I rummaged through the freezer, grabbing the first cold thing I touched. As I held frozen steak against my knuckles, I sank to the floor, all the while screaming at Wren to get the hell out of my house.

  “Kingsley,” Wren walked into the kitchen and knelt down in front of me, “I’ve been working out a lot lately, so I guess that extra gym time has really done my arms some good.”

  Without thinking, I threw the piece of meat at Wren’s face. I realized where it hit him when he began screaming in pain.

  “What the fuck!” He threw his hand over his left eye as he felt around with his free arm in search of the culprit.

  “Here, baby,” I teased, handing him the steak.

  Wren snatched it from my hands and positioned it over his eye. I grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer and joined Wren on the floor. I could barely wiggle my fingers, and every time I tried, I felt like puking.

  “Fuck, this hurts,” he said as he lay down on the floor. “My eye is going to be black and blue tomorrow. My mom’s going to think you’re abusive.” Wren laughed, grabbing my arm and pulling me down next to him.

  “If you tell her I did this, I’ll lure you out to the ocean and leave you there for the sharks,” I threatened.

  “Fine. We’ll just hope no one asks any questions.”

  I never imagined the kitchen floor being a comfortable place for sleeping, but as we fell asleep, both of us looking like we’d wrestled a bull...and lost, I mouthed the three words that couldn’t be said out loud.

  Yet.

  It was the first day of summer vacation, and already I wished I was back in school. Back at the place that gave me sanctuary. I had exactly 79 days to fill. 79 days of avoiding the Hendersons at all costs. 79 days until the safe haven that was school reopened. I had just woken up, shivering from the chilled air in the basement. The small windows were old and full of rust, allowing the air from outside to seep through the cracks. I wrapped my frail body in the thin sheet, wishing that I had a blanket.