Never Let Go

by Anne Carol

  “I don’t know if I’ll tell him anything. I think it would upset him too much. Another reason why I won’t repeat the mistake.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Well, it’s up to you, but in my experience, honesty is always the best policy. You can’t have a mature relationship if you’re keeping things from each other. Just a thought.

  “Oh, and get dressed. You’re not missing church.”

  Dad nodded in agreement.

  What? I almost hollered but quickly buttoned my lips together; I had no room to argue.

  It was a miserable morning in church, where I obsessed over telling David about the party, at the same time willing my headache to go away. How in the world am I going to tell him what happened? Will he hate me?

  After lunch, I was just about to call Melissa to talk about the party when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, how are you feeling?” Rick’s confident tone was unmistakable.

  “Not great.” Why are you calling? I wanted to scream, but then I knew I should thank him for getting me home last night.

  “You were pretty trashed,” he chuckled.

  “You think that was funny?” I barked. “I felt terrible!” Ugh. He had such a way of getting on my nerves.

  “Sorry. Hey, I took care of you, didn’t I? I got you out of there before you did anything crazy.”

  “I know, thanks.” I almost said “I owe you” but then thought the better of it. “Sorry about having to carry me. I was so out of it.”

  “I really didn’t mind,” he said, a little too flirtatiously.

  “Uh, I appreciate you driving me home,” I said flatly. “That stuff really snuck up on me.”

  “Yeah, it does that. So how much trouble were you in?”

  “My mom was pretty ticked. I’m grounded from all parties and Friday night post-game events for a month.”

  “Ooh, wow. Sorry. I should’ve stopped you from taking more than one drink.”

  “I’m not your responsibility anymore. I should’ve known better.”

  He didn’t respond right away, so I spoke up.

  “I’d better go. Thanks again.” I tried to sound pleasant.

  “You’re welcome. Oh, I put your purse on your desk, in case you didn’t see it.”

  Oh, no.

  After we hung up, I made a dash to my room to locate my purse. That idiot better not have rummaged through it! I’d brought a few pictures of David with me to show off at the party, and I wouldn’t put it past Rick to mess with them.

  I found my knit handbag and searched for the photos but couldn’t find them, so naturally I panicked. “He took them!” I spit out through clenched teeth.

  No, why would he do that? I thought, taking another look through my cluttered bag. Finally, I spotted them in the side pocket, not where I’d placed them. Clearly he’d seen the pictures and now had hard evidence of another guy in my life. Good.

  Later that afternoon was my weekly phone call with David, but I couldn’t quite stomach telling him what went down at the party. I had to bite my tongue when I almost told him where I was the night before. Thankfully, he was hopping from his own good news so he didn’t notice my stumble.

  He was excited because he and the other band members were about to book a recording session to cut a demo tape. They’d finally finished up a set of songs, the majority written by David, and were getting ready to shop for a recording contract. His excitement carried over to me, and I told him how proud I was of him.

  “I want you to be proud of me. I’m doing this for you, for us,” he said.

  When he said “for us,” I had to lean against the counter for support; his words always had that soothing effect on me. I already knew that for the next nine months, Sunday afternoons would contain both the best and worst moments of the week. Hearing him make that statement was definitely the best.

  And before long, the worst moment was upon us. Our phone calls would never be long enough. Even if we had nothing to say, the fact that he was there on the other side filled me with joy. His verbal declaration of love was barely enough to get me through the week, and I was grateful I had no limit on sending and receiving letters from him.

  But the next day, I felt so guilty about withholding party details from David that I decided to write him a letter. It was too long of a wait until our next phone chat, and I had to get it off my chest.

  Now I considered myself to be a good writer, but sitting down to pen that letter was one of the most challenging writing assignments I’d ever had. I mean, how does one even begin to tell their current boyfriend, who is on the other side of the world, that your ex-boyfriend had to drive your drunk ass home and literally carry you to bed? Words did not come easily.

  In the end, the letter was three pages long, explaining the details of Saturday night and owning up to the fact that I’d messed up, it was my fault, and I didn’t blame him if he was mad at me. As soon I as finished, I sealed it up and put it in the outgoing mail immediately, afraid that I’d chicken out.

  I set that worry aside and focused on my next one—the first day of school, tomorrow.

  It was fortunate I woke up before the alarm Tuesday morning, because it took me going through five outfits before resolving that clothes weren’t going to calm my overactive nerves. In the end, I chose an embroidered peasant blouse and my new trim-fitting jeans, along with heeled sandals. I pinned my hair up in a few side barrettes and called it good enough. There was nobody there to impress anyway.

  Once I got to campus, I parked in my normal spot at the back, away from all the crazy drivers, and hesitantly stepped out of the car. I weaved my way through the busy parking lot and stepped into the jam-packed school corridor, where I was met by a sea of familiar faces.

  My first stop was the advisor’s office so I could pick up my revised schedule. I’d made the decision sometime over the summer to switch one of my electives from French 4 (which I’d probably never use) to school newspaper. In an even more drastic move, I dropped cheerleading in favor of the literary society. At first I struggled over the choice because I enjoyed cheerleading, but being around David all summer made me realize how much I loved writing. His encouragement inspired me to use my hidden talent, and I knew he’d be proud of my brave move.

  That thought made me smile as I hurried over to my locker. As I sorted out my various notebooks and folders, I kept an eye out for my friends. With no sign of them, I used the few moments of solitude to hang my favorite picture of David and me inside the door.

  “So is that him?” Rick’s voice startled me and I whirled around. When his warm breath invaded my space, I instinctively drew back.

  “As a matter of fact, yes, that’s David,” I stated tersely. “Like you didn’t know. I mean, you obviously fished through my purse the other day and saw my pictures.”

  “I can’t deny it. I was curious. Can you blame me?” He leaned his hand against the locker next to mine and moved closer, intentionally or not, I wasn’t sure. His heavy cologne was saturating the air, and I held my breath.

  “Frankly, I don’t see the attraction. The guy’s got no muscles. Does he play any sports?”

  I let out my breath. “No, he’s into music.”

  “Music?” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. I wanted to punch him.

  “Yeah, he plays guitar in a punk band. And he’s good,” I bragged, grinning and folding my arms across my chest.

  He swallowed hard, looking like the air was sucked out of his lungs.

  “That explains the records,” he mumbled.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to go?” I glanced at my watch. “Where’s your locker? Class starts in less than ten minutes.”

  “Locker’s right there.” He gestured straight across the hallway.

  “Great,” I muttered, avoiding his stare. My shoulders slumped and I looked up and down the corridor for signs of my “bodyguards,” whose lockers were next to mine. Giving up on them, I shut my locker door and double-checked my class sche
dule.

  First Period: English Composition, Room 104.

  Rick finally wandered over to his side without another irritating word. I glared at him out of the corner of my eye.

  “Was he bugging you? Do we need to take care of him?” Melissa said under her breath as she and Susie approached.

  “No, it’s fine. You could’ve gotten here a few minutes earlier though.”

  “Sorry, the parking lot was crazy. All these new drivers …”

  “So what’s your first class?” I asked them.

  “I have art,” Susie answered, looking over her printed schedule.

  “Latin,” Melissa declared. Smarty-pants. If anybody could take four years of Latin, it was Melissa. She was clearly destined for greatness.

  “And I’ve got English.” I took a deep breath. “Well, friends, here goes nothing!”

  All in all, it wasn’t a bad morning. Going through the motions of school would serve to occupy my mind so I wouldn’t miss David so much, I could see that already. And as far as my ex? Well, Rick did turn up in my World History class just before lunch, but since we were in one of the larger classrooms I was able to keep my distance.

  Lunch hour was the usual; Melissa, Susie, and I joined three of our other friends in the overcrowded lunchroom, where the stench of fried food and body odor put a crimp in my appetite. As I nibbled on a crappy burrito, I chatted with my friends about the infamous party Saturday night, where apparently most of the girls ended up drunk.

  After a relaxing sixth period, my introduction to being a teacher’s aide, I absentmindedly headed to my seventh period Anatomy class.

  I’d already taken a seat at one of the lab stations when Rick waltzed in and claimed the spot next to me.

  My jaw dropped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Did you not see the posting on the door? We’re lab partners,” he said with a smirk.

  “No way.”

  “Yep, we were assigned.”

  I closed my eyes in resignation. “This is going to be a long year,” I said, gripping my forehead.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be a dream lab partner, you’ll see.”

  I grunted. “Hopefully a better lab partner than boyfriend,” I mumbled to myself, turning away from him.

  “What? Can’t you get out of it?” Rachel questioned after I told her about Rick being my lab partner.

  We were sitting around the kitchen table snacking on apple slices while I gave her a debriefing.

  “No, and it’s just science class anyway, purely a business relationship.” I added, wondering why I was so nonchalant about it. I had to keep in mind this was the person who nearly forced himself on me on our last date, and then cheated on me less than two weeks into our vacation. He was not allowed to get under my skin again.

  Just then the phone rang, distracting me. Rachel jumped up to answer it.

  “Beth,” she held the phone out to me. “It’s David.”

  “David? It’s not Sunday.” I briskly made my way over to the phone and put it to my ear.

  “Hey, brown eyes, this is a nice treat,” I gushed.

  “Hi, sweet girl. Thought you deserved a treat on your first day of school. How did it go?” His voice dripped with concern. He was worried, which meant there was no way I could tell him who my lab partner was.

  And of course, after giving him a summary of my first day, he asked about Rick. I assured him Rick was not going to be a problem, even though I wasn’t sure myself. But there was no sense in having him stew about something he had no control over.

  Instead, I asked about the preparations his band was making for their upcoming recording session.

  “When’s it scheduled?”

  “Three weeks, so we don’t have much time. It has to be perfect so we can play the demo tape for the record labels.”

  “Sounds overwhelming, but I know you can do it, hon. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Beth. Your encouragement means the world to me.”

  We talked for a few more minutes, until his mom made him cut the call short since it was nearing midnight for him.

  Afterward, I nervously wondered when my letter would arrive in his hands, and how angry he would be with me.

  The rest of the week went relatively smooth; even seventh period with Rick was tolerable. He only got on my nerves a few times, like when he asked me why I quit cheerleading.

  “Wasn’t my thing anymore. I’m spending more time on my writing,” I responded, not bothering to look up from my notebook.

  “Don’t tell me you’re joining the bookworms in the literary society?” he sneered.

  “And what if I am?” I narrowed my eyes.

  He shook his head, appearing taken aback. “Geez, what has that English guy done to you?”

  Trying to control my urge to punch Rick, I said, “He’s encouraging me to do what I love, that’s all.”

  Something you never did, is what I wanted to add, but held my tongue.

  “Well, I’ll miss seeing you up there, cheering for us,” he said, softening me up.

  “I’ll be cheering, just not with my red skirt and pom-poms.” I cracked a slight smile, enough to take the edge off. As much as he deserved my wrath, it didn’t feel natural to treat him poorly. He earned a few points after rescuing me from the party, and as long as he knew his boundaries, I didn’t see a need to act hateful toward him.

  After the Friday night game, I drove myself home, put on a Carpenters album, and read a book of Robert Burns’ poems while soaking in the bathtub. I suppose it wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening, but I’d rather have been with my friends. I hated being left out. Aside from the one party that ended badly, I’d missed out on the entire summer of events, so I felt like an outsider in a way.

  But then the next evening when a bunch of us got together at Melissa’s house, I was able to relax and enjoy myself. It was nice listening to all the gossip about the guys in our class, knowing I didn’t have to deal with any of them.

  “How about Keith last night? Oh my God, he is such a player!” exclaimed Amy. She was referring to one of Rick’s friends, a fellow teammate.

  “Yeah, you should’ve seen him flirting with all of us girls. I mean, he was all arms. We couldn’t get away from him,” Melissa added.

  Another reason I was glad I’d missed the party. Ick.

  “What did you do last night, Beth?” Laurie asked me.

  “I took a hot bath.”

  “And dreamed of one cute Englishman?” She sighed.

  I smiled and pulled a mysterious face. “Maybe …”

  “And then you took a cold shower, right?” Melissa jumped in.

  At that, we all started busting up with laughter. It seemed things were getting back to normal with my friends, and I finally felt like I could survive the long year.

  Almost.

  Monday afternoon, I wasn’t in the door more than two seconds when my mom told me I needed to call David.

  “David? Are you sure?” I glanced up at the wall clock, which read 5:05. “It’s after one in the morning there. He really wants me to call in the middle of the night?”

  “He was pretty adamant. Said he’d be waiting by the phone.”

  Just then my brain registered what he was calling for.

  My letter.

  “Oh, SHIT!”

  After a brief scolding from Mom about my use of profanity, I timidly asked if I could use the phone in her bedroom.

  “Sure, is everything okay, dear? You know why he’s calling?”

  “I have some idea,” I answered before disappearing into the other room, feeling like I was headed for the guillotine.

  My heart was in my throat as I dialed David’s number.

  As expected, he answered on the first ring. “Beth.” His voice was tired, flat.

  “Listen, I know why you called, so just get it over with—”

  “Get what over with?”

  Oh, he’s steamed.

  “I know you’re ang
ry at me for what I wrote in that letter.”

  “Quite angry. I’m gutted.”

  “I’m sorry, David. I’m so sorry,” I pleaded.

  “What were you thinking, Beth? How could you be so careless? And to tell me in a bloody letter?” I could hear him gritting his teeth.

  I didn’t give him an answer, because I didn’t have one.

  “We’ve spoken twice since you wrote this and not one word! What’s going on with you?” He’d never raised his voice with me like this, and I didn’t know how to take it.

  “I didn’t have the nerve to tell you over the phone. I couldn’t get the words out,” I said, twirling my hair around my finger. “I know what I did was stupid and careless, and it’ll never happen again, I swear.”

  “I got your letter this morning, and do you know what I’ve been doing all day?”

  “No. Tell me,” I begged, my voice cracking.

  “I’ve been ringing the airlines to see what it would cost to fly out to you.”

  Oh geez …

  “Unfortunately it’s out of the question, but if I could …”

  “What?” I cringed, fearing the worst.

  “I’d tell your ex-boyfriend to stay the hell away from you,” he growled, and then paused to take a breath. “He could’ve hurt you, Beth.” His voice wavered.

  I knew what he meant, what he was concerned about.

  “He didn’t do anything to me.”

  “How would you know? You were drunk!”

  “Calm down, David,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, even though my insides were trembling like an earthquake.

  “Calm down? How can I? You were alone in a car with him! He had his hands all over you! I can’t even think about what he could’ve done to you. Oh, Beth.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say!”

  “How could you let yourself get in that situation? It terrifies me when I think about you with him. I’m going out of my mind here. How am I ever going to trust you?”

  When he brought up the trust issue my whole body tightened up. I knew he’d be upset, but nothing could’ve prepared me for his reaction. He was a mess, and it was all my fault. I hated myself for hurting him like that.