Addicted

by Amelia Betts

  “You’re funny,” I said, convincingly unfazed. “We never negotiated dessert. I’m gonna go shower.” With that, I walked to the back door, swaying my fluffy hips back and forth so that she could tease me if she felt so inclined. She didn’t. I silently congratulated myself, having finally come up with a strategy for Cecile that semi-worked.

  I had left the air-conditioning off in the guesthouse all day. Thus, my small but powerful window unit was still trying to catch up to the sweltering heat after the lukewarm shower I had taken to cool off. It was the kind of heat that dried you instantly once you stepped out of the shower, rendering towels completely unnecessary. Usually I swaddled myself before I even emerged, to negate the risk of catching my naked reflection in the mirror. But this night I found myself staring down my mirror image in the buff, and for once, I didn’t want to recoil in horror. My body hadn’t changed, despite being on the wagon all weekend, yet I found myself looking in a different way. Of course, the flaws were all still there—the fat and stretch marks, the big oval birthmark on the right side of my rib cage that I had always hated, the red creases where my belly folds—but the voice inside my head, which sounded a lot like Cecile on one of her snarky days, was strangely absent. It probably helped that I had taken my mind off Liam and how I might win his love and had gotten back to worrying about my own life and what to do with it. I put my hands on my hips and allowed myself to stare, really stare. This was my body today, and nothing was going to change that. There were some good things about it too. I liked my breasts, and my feminine, rounded shoulders, my peachy skin tone. I liked my hands, one of the few places my weight never showed. I liked my smile, my eyebrows, my ears. Most important, I liked that I was still standing in front of the mirror and hadn’t run away in shame.

  Chapter Fifteen

  For the rest of the week, I ate healthily and stuck to three meals a day without snacks. My skin looked better, and my mood improved dramatically. The stack of acceptance letters from grad schools that I had been ignoring finally made its way to the top of my priority list as I sorted through it, discarding the envelopes from schools whose registration deadlines I had already missed and poring over the remaining three as if they contained secret messages that would help me choose. And as hard as it was for me to imagine moving so far away, I finally decided on a plan B—a small program at a big state school in New Mexico. The decision was based on the academics alone, but it also helped that classes didn’t start until January and I could still wait to respond, just in case Reid decided to accept me at the last minute.

  By Friday, I had dropped five pounds with what seemed like hardly any effort. I decided to celebrate by wearing a pair of plaid shorts that had long ago stopped fitting and surprising Cecile at her swim meet.

  “Hey!” Cecile ran up to me at the side of the pool where the spectators were gathered, dripping wet after placing second in a relay race.

  “Cecile! You did great!” I held my hand up for a high five that she reluctantly obliged.

  “Thanks,” she said, still catching her breath.

  “Did you see this?” I held up the crude sign I had drawn with a Sharpie sketch of a big, blue shark and Cecile’s name in gold.

  Not surprisingly, she rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she groaned.

  “I figured it would embarrass you.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Anytime!” I held out my hand for another high five—this one she denied.

  “Hey, I’m gonna go out with the team after, and Stacey’s parents are giving me a ride.”

  At the mention of her name, Cecile’s friend Stacey ran up behind her and nodded at me from over Cecile’s shoulder. Stacey was a hyper-seeming girl who was very tall for her age, a good four inches taller than me.

  “Does your dad know?” I asked. Julien hadn’t been able to make it to the swim meet that night. Just before I had left his office, he had mumbled something about a work dinner.

  Cecile shook her head while Stacey nodded at the same time, sending them both into fits of laughter. I smiled at the two, remembering that frantic rush of middle school camaraderie—here today, gone tomorrow friendships that bloomed and withered as quickly as actual flowers—and told them to have a good time. “It’s not really my place to say yes, but I’ll take the heat if your dad gets mad,” I said, choosing to play good cop.

  “Thanks a mil!” Stacey piped in, and the two were off and running.

  * * *

  I had walked to the pool. On the way home I took the long route, following a street that looped around the periphery of Julien’s neighborhood. It was almost summer solstice, and the sun was barely setting at eight p.m. I could see the fireflies flitting about people’s yards and could smell the dinners being cooked on outdoor grills; the whole effect made me long for a trip home. This was the first summer I hadn’t spent in Iowa, and I missed it. The summers had a certain balmy charm there, and whenever my mother had days off, she and I would fish, or sunbathe at her boyfriend’s neighborhood pool, or just sit around on her tiny porch and play cards. Wherever I ended up this year, I’d have to find a way to make it home next summer if only for a short trip. I made a mental note, tacking it onto my list of a gazillion to-dos.

  When I got back to the guesthouse, I passed out unexpectedly, facedown on the bed. My sleep patterns had become erratic now that my sugar and caffeine intake had gone down drastically, and these oddly timed naps were becoming a too-frequent occurrence. The next time I opened my eyes, it was three in the morning and I was starving for the dinner I never ate. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep without something in my stomach, I got up and snuck into Julien’s kitchen as quietly as possible. The light from the refrigerator guided my way as I threw together a salad with some roasted chicken I’d bought at the grocery store. It was simple, yet delicious and left me with no desire for dessert or any other sort of junk. Who was this stranger I had become?

  After that, I felt like another walk, so I crept back out of the kitchen and left the house through the side gate. It was cool and breezy outside, and the sound of the wind rustling through the magnolia trees was soothing, albeit a little eerie at this hour. I wandered for nearly half an hour, taking streets I’d never gone down before, discovering cul-de-sacs littered with abandoned toys and strange, New England–style gingerbread houses that looked terribly out of place among the scattered palm trees.

  I tried to put my mind on future plans, but thoughts of Liam kept popping into my head. I wondered if he was okay after the other night or if he’d woken up even more depressed, as I inevitably did on the rare occasion that I drank too much. I wished I could call and check in on him, to hear his voice and gauge whether he was in need of more emergency intervention. Unlike the way I’d felt after our night at the spa, I had no resentment toward Liam after seeing him at his lowest. I just knew that I cared about him deeply and wanted him to be okay. At the same time, I knew the best thing for him was for me to stay away. He was never going to get better with me around—the harshest pill I’d ever had to swallow. And where did that leave me? If I was so intent on moving forward, I also had to realize that thinking about Liam wasn’t going to help me either. But how could I stop? So much had happened over the past few weeks, I felt like I’d had a year’s worth of experiences condensed into that short amount of time, and I was still trying to process all of it. Strange how a life can creep along at a snail’s pace, like mine had all senior year, and suddenly kick into high gear like a bullet train racing through time.

  I was glad to be up at this hour, to have space to think about everything without distractions. I used to take late-night walks like this back in Iowa. For some reason, it had never scared me to be out alone; in fact, it had a calming effect. I embraced the way the world felt empty, like everyone had cleared out just so I could enjoy some peace and quiet. But wild animals were not something to be messed with—this much I knew—and as I neared the end of a particularly dark dead-end street around the corner from Julien’
s, I got spooked by a stray dog that looked hungry and wild-eyed, its dirty white hair matted into dreadlocks. Switching into flight mode, I did an about-face and walked in the opposite direction, careful not to provoke the animal by breaking into a run.

  When I rounded the corner onto Julien’s street, stepping quickly and quietly with fists pumping the way Bobby had pursued me in the church parking lot, I glanced over my shoulder for the dog but it wasn’t there. Then, just as one threat was gone, another materialized as I turned my gaze back toward home and saw a figure running at me in the distance. I stopped in my tracks and looked again for the dog, hoping that it might morph into my sidekick and team up with me to scare this new menace away, but the animal was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, I noticed the runner had stopped, too, right around Julien’s driveway.

  Squinting as hard as I could, I registered the green reflective stripes on the person’s shoes and realized the shadowy figure was Julien as he made his way to the front door.

  “Julien!” I called out from several feet away just before he walked inside.

  “Mischa? Is that you?” He moved off the front steps, tentatively making his way toward me as I headed up the driveway. “What are you doing?”

  Relieved that it was him, I beamed as we came face-to-face in the driveway. “Taking a walk. I couldn’t sleep,” I said.

  “Oh, wow. Me too. Huh.”

  “Did you get my text? Cecile went out with Stacey after the meet.”

  “Yeah, did I not text you back? Shoot. I meant to say it was fine.”

  “That’s okay. How was your dinner?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Umm… fine. It was fine.”

  Fine, fine, fine. Julien and I might have moved on from our awkwardness, but a bit of it obviously still remained. It didn’t help that we were standing alone together in the middle of the night.

  “Funny running into you,” I said. “It’s rare to see someone at this hour, but we seem to have a knack for that.” I shifted in place, hoping that my comment hadn’t come across as flirtation.

  “Yeah, I guess we do.” He rubbed at his forehead like he was annoyed or had a headache. I noticed his chest heaving underneath his shirt and wondered if it was leftover from his run or if there was something else quickening his breath. Julien seemed to notice me looking at his chest and tilted his head, as if he was assessing what to do next. The same confusion I’d felt that night he’d touched my hand came over me, but this time I felt drawn to him. He was standing close enough for me to smell his sweat, clean like he’d taken a shower just before his run. “You look different,” he finally said.

  “I lost a few pounds,” I said, both flattered and embarrassed.

  “I don’t think it’s that. You look… happier.”

  “I am, I think.” I laced my hands in front of my chest, rocking back onto my heels. The other night, I had been so quick to leave the minute things had gotten weird between us. Now I wanted to stay put and see what came next. Maybe I just needed the attention, but it didn’t feel as superficial as that.

  “Is it because of that guy?” Julien asked. “The one from the restaurant?”

  I shook my head, taken aback. Was that a hint of jealousy in his voice?

  “No. We’re not really seeing each other anymore,” I said, preemptively arching my back as Julien inched closer to me, and my chest spontaneously began to heave in time with his. With almost no space left between us, I could see his big brown eyes above me, just visible in the moonlight.

  “I’ve been thinking about the other night,” he confessed.

  I leaned in, closing the gap between our bodies. I had no idea what I was doing—acting on instinct, apparently. It felt reassuring to be this close to someone again, as if I had feared it would never happen after Liam. I closed my eyes and sensed Julien’s large, powerful hands gently landing on my shoulders, lightly massaging them. Under his touch, I felt dainty and small. I hadn’t thought much about the comparison, but he was a few inches taller than Liam, his build a little more muscular and wide. I let my forehead fall against his chest.

  “It was nice, holding your hand, talking to you. You’re easy to talk to, Mischa.” Julien’s hips pressed into my stomach. I turned my head to the side and heard his heart pounding. His chest was warm and a little damp from sweat. What are we doing? I thought as I breathed in the smell of his deodorant, a lovely scent like cut grass. Every breath, every slight movement from either of us, was emotionally charged as we stood there, our bodies refusing to part. The moment felt clandestine. My fingers found Julien’s, hanging at his sides, and we joined hands. I tilted my head back to look at him just as he leaned down to kiss me. The minute our lips collided, a well of passion seemed to pour out from both of us. Julien’s tongue was warm and electric as it touched mine, causing my entire body to melt.

  “I want you,” he whispered as he crouched down to kiss my neck and my collarbone. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I whispered back, unlacing my fingers from Julien’s and running them up the front of his body. Grasping his shoulders, I stood on tiptoe to kiss the base of his neck, then closed my eyes and hung my head back, dying for him to kiss me again. I finally understood what it was about an older man that Gracie found so appealing. I felt young and innocent in Julien’s arms, eager to be taught.

  But seconds went by as I anticipated another kiss, and nothing happened. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the same low-angle view of the stars I’d had the night Liam and I had made love on the street and felt Julien’s hands slip away from my waist.

  “Good night, Mischa,” he said, awkward and abrupt.

  “Wait! No!” My voice trembled from the electric current that was still coursing through my body as I stood there on the driveway, suddenly abandoned.

  Julien only made it a few steps toward the house before approaching me again, this time to push a few strands of hair away from my face as he gave me a long, sweet peck on the cheek and told me “Good night” for the second time.

  “Okay,” was all I could think to say as he drew back again.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his eyes darting back to the house.

  I nodded, trying to make sense of what had just happened as Julien drifted away in slow motion.

  Before he strayed too far, his big brown eyes met mine once more. After that, he turned around and disappeared inside, back to his house and daughter, back to his widower’s bed.

  * * *

  When I awoke the next morning, it was to the sound of birds singing outside, something I hadn’t noticed once since I had been staying here. Instinctively, I turned to look out at Julien’s bedroom window but saw no trace of him there.

  The kiss last night had been wildly confusing, our goodbye premature. Yet it also seemed like the precursor to something potentially great. Part of me wondered if Julien was the answer, after all my tribulations with Liam, like everything I had gone through had been a trial run for my first real, adult relationship with a stable, reliable, older man. An unexpected knock on the door shook me out of it. Feeling certain it must be Julien, I rushed out of bed to answer in my tank top and boxer shorts.

  “Hiiiiiiiii,” Gracie greeted me—a zombie behind large sunglasses—as I opened the door. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the closest thing to a mirage I had ever encountered. “I know I didn’t call,” she said, her low voice dry and gravelly like she hadn’t slept.

  “What?! This is amazing. What are you doing here?” I exclaimed. I hadn’t known how much I had missed my friend until the moment she showed up on my doorstep. I embraced her excitedly, but her side of the hug was weak, like the life had been drained out of her. “Oh no. What’s wrong?”

  “Can you smell the despair?” She lowered her sunglasses to reveal the puffy eyes behind them.

  “Come in.” I ushered her inside, where she dropped her stuffed-to-the-gills carry-on bag and hobbled to the bed.

  “I think your host family thinks I’m a nutjob,�
�� she said.

  “Did Cecile say something rude? She’s very fourteen.”

  “No, Droolian looked at me like I had two heads when he opened the door.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Julien doing anything. “Well, I’ve never had a friend over. And didn’t you tell him you were going to D.C.? He probably thought you were a mirage, just like I did.”

  I plopped down beside Gracie, and she immediately fell back onto the mattress, bringing her hands to her face in anguish. “So, that guy’s a real asshole I found out. One of the great assholes, in fact.”

  “The junior senator?” I said.

  “Yes. Richard.” She sounded utterly heartbroken upon saying his name. “Richard Jackson Wellington Stipe the fourth.”

  “Stipe?”

  “Yes, like Michael Stipe of the ancient rock band R.E.M. He claims no relation, but who else has that name?”

  “I mean, that’s some name he’s got on him, with ‘the fourth’ and everything.”

  “I was listening to bad airplane radio on the way here—because my phone is broken, because everything in my life is broken—and there was some song about how all that matters is being born with a good name. And I’m telling you, this guy is like the walking example of that theory. He’s had everything handed to him. How I didn’t suspect he would be an asshole is unfathomable.”

  I looked back at Gracie, who was staring into the middle distance like she’d just received electroshock treatment. “Do you want something to eat?” I asked.

  She shook her head fervently. I was secretly dying for an excuse to go into the kitchen, to feel out what Julien was thinking after last night. “I’ll get us waters!” I said. “And maybe aspirin? Do you want aspirin?” Gracie had been massaging her temples like a madwoman.