Surviving Valencia

by Holly Tierney-Bedord

  “The guy got thrown from the car, but when we pulled over and looked, he was still alive. I wanted to go get help, but John hit him on the head with a rock. I don’t know why he did it. The girl had her seatbelt on and she was fine. Not even a mark on her. Then John grabbed her and started tying her up with a roll of tape he had in his truck. I told him to stop. I was so drunk it all seemed like a bad dream. He put her in his truck and then he pushed their car into the river.”

  “He pushed their car into the river?” I interrupted. “With his hands?”

  “I helped him do that,” said Adrian. “I had to. I didn’t know what he would do to me if I didn’t help him. The car was on a hill and it just rolled right down in. The sleet had turned to snow and it was like a blizzard. It was all such a bad dream.

  “I told him to leave me there and I would walk back to the bar, so he left me. It was snowing like crazy, the whole way back. It probably took me two hours to walk back. I was afraid someone would see me but it was late and there weren’t any cars. I almost froze to death. Finally I made it back to my car and went back to my aunt’s. Everyone was asleep so I went to bed. It was the worst night of my life. I just put it behind me.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone? My sister was still alive! You could have saved her!”

  “I watched him kill your brother. I knew she was dead too. And I was drunk and scared. I was only twenty-one. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted it to be a bad dream.”

  “You wanted it to be a bad dream.”

  He nodded.

  “I can’t be with you anymore,” I said.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do too.”

  “We’re talking about the worst night of my life. No actually, what happened in Minneapolis a few days ago may have been the worst night of my life. But I am not a bad person. You know that.”

  “So how did you and I happen to end up married?” I asked him.

  “Fate.”

  “Stop telling lies.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You came to Border’s to see me. Was it just some kind of sick curiosity?”

  “No. I started there because I needed money. When I found out who you were I thought it was the most bizarre thing in the world, but I fell in love with you and it felt like the right thing. It even made me believe we were supposed to be together. A coincidence like that is too much to not be fate.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Was it fate that you were in that bar that night with John Spade?”

  “No. That was a terrible thing. Terrible bad luck.”

  “How did he let you walk away from all this, knowing what you know? I don’t believe your story.”

  “He told me he would kill me if I said anything. So for about a year I was afraid he’d kill me anyway, but then he went to prison and my life started to go on.”

  “Did you know he was out of prison?”

  “No. I didn’t think he was getting out for a long time still.”

  “How could you have never told me this? If all this is true, and you aren’t responsible for what happened to them, and you really love me, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “I thought it would hurt you too much.”

  “But if you really loved me, the truth would be important than protecting my feelings.”

  “You’ve got it backwards,” he said, taking my hands in his. “You must know I am not responsible for what happened, or you would have gone to the police when you got that letter. Right?”

  “You’ve got it backwards. I didn’t go to the police because I was afraid you were involved. I need to think. I need to take a walk.” I put on my sunglasses to hide my face and I left.

  Chapter 54

  My twenty-first birthday was actually fun. That’s the great thing about turning twenty-one: Boys know you’re going to get really drunk, so they pay attention to you. I am ashamed to admit I was still living in the dorms at that point. I went to Paul’s Club on State Street in downtown Madison with two other girls who were nineteen but had fake ID’s. Their names were Luna and Dannon, like the yogurt. Luna was just four feet ten inches tall and her left arm was kind of mangled. I didn’t ask why. Dannon was six foot three and would have been a supermodel if not for her tiny, rotten stubs of teeth. Again, I just didn’t ask. The three of us had all been in a yoga class together, and as a result, we were sort of friends.

  We spent a long time getting ready. We wore wrap skirts that actually were shorts with a panel over the front, but looked like shorts in the back, and chunky heeled summer sandals. We each had tiny purses on long strings that fell all the way to our hips. Dannon liked girls, and wore a shirt that said so. Luna and Dannon were single too, and each of us was silently hoping for some kind of miracle.

  We got to Paul’s Club (Dannon insisted on Paul’s Club, because she had a crush on a bartender there) and all three of us ordered screwdrivers. We sat down beneath the famous tree inside and tried to hold what looked like a normal conversation, waiting for some boys (or a girl) to sit by us. Luna tucked her left arm casually beneath her purse and the sweater she had brought along as a shield. Dannon wisely kept her mouth closed. I sat just so, innocently smooshing my breasts together to create a meager line of cleavage. We sipped our drinks and waited. It didn’t take long for some frat boys to notice Dannon.

  “Hi there,” said one. “Mind if we join you?”

  “We’d love it!” said Luna. All three of us knew what this meant: Free drinks.

  The guy and his two friends squeezed in all around us. One between Luna and Dannon, one on either side of me.

  “I’m Jake, this is Josh, and this is Jarid.”

  “Nice to meet you,” we said, and introduced ourselves.

  “What are you ladies drinking?” asked Josh.

  “Screwdrivers,” we giggled. Three more drinks appeared before us.

  “Your name is Dannon?” asked Jake. Dannon nodded.

  “That’s a really, really unique name,” said Jarid.

  “Are you named after someone?” asked Josh. He was sitting to my right, farthest away from her. “Mind if I switch with you?” he asked, standing up and giving me a little shove without looking at me. I took my drinks and scooted over. Now Luna and I were across from each other while the three boys focused their attention on Dannon, who couldn’t stop looking for her crush behind the bar and who had yet to open her mouth more than what was required to sip her drink.

  Luna rolled her eyes at me. She held up her drink to toast me. “To free drinks,” she said, clinking my glass. Then she began picking maraschino cherries off their swizzle stick with her bad hand and topping the fingers on her good hand with them, black olive style.

  “Are you a model?” Jake asked Dannon. She shook her head.

  “You sure as hell could be!” said Jarid.

  Dannon smiled weakly, keeping her lips pressed firmly together. Then she held up one finger. “Be right back,” she said, expertly hiding her teeth, and made her way to the ladies’ room.

  The boys looked at Luna and me. There was a brief, awkward silence.

  “Your friend is tall,” said Josh.

  “She’s probably taller than any of us,” Jake agreed.

  “I don’t have a problem with a tall woman,” declared Jarid.

  I held up my empty drink glass. “It’s my birthday. I’m twenty-one,” I reminded them.

  Our new friends wished me a happy birthday, and Jake went up to the bar to buy us another round. I noticed Dannon down at the other end of the bar trying to talk to the bartender. She was a skinny woman who looked like she was in her late twenties. I couldn’t imagine what Dannon found attractive about her.

  “Is that a friend of yours?” asked Jarid, motioning to the bartender.

  “No, that’s the girl Dannon likes,” said Luna.

  “Likes?” asked Jake.

  “Dannon likes girls,” said Luna. “You didn’t notice her shirt? It says I
like girls who like girls.”

  I cringed, afraid our free drink suppliers were going to abandon us. The exact opposite happened.

  “No way,” squealed Josh. He and Jake high-fived each other.

  “That is so awesome,” said Jarid.

  “She is hot,” said Jake.

  “Keep the drinks coming and we’re going to see some girl on girl action,” said Josh.

  “Just look at her! I only come up to her tits, man!” said Jake.

  “She is the hottest girl I have ever seen.”

  “Look at her legs. She’s got to, like, run marathons.”

  I noticed that Luna was crying. She wasn’t as familiar with being ignored as I was, and here she was, falling apart. To make matters even worse, she and I were down to just the ice cubes again.

  “Let’s go,” I whispered.

  “Okay,” said Luna, sniffling. She ate her maraschino fingertips and gathered up her sweater and purse. We stood up.

  “Thank you for the drinks,” I said.

  “Where are you going?” asked one of the guys.

  “We’ll be back in a minute,” Luna promised.

  “Meet us at the Dane,” I whispered to Dannon on our way past her.

  “Sure, sure. I’ll be right there.”

  “Listen, yogurt girl, I’m supposed to be working,” we heard the bartender telling Dannon as we left.

  So the night did not start out that great, but we did get quite a few free drinks. Neither Luna nor I had harbored very high expectations, so we easily snapped back from the letdown of Paul’s Club.

  We got to the Great Dane and sat at a table near some guys playing pool. Luna was smiling again. It was getting late and since it was May, a lot of students were studying for finals and we had the place mainly to ourselves. We ordered wheat beers with orange slices and waited for Dannon to show up. Neither Luna nor I typically drank much so we were very drunk, and giggling like crazy about every little thing.

  “Ughh, she must run marathons,” said Luna in a deep, dumb voice.

  “There’s going to be girl on girl action!” I said, imitating the voice. We kept drinking and laughing.

  “She’s going to suck my tiny little dick,” said Luna, laughing so hard that I could barely understand her.

  “Let’s get two more,” she said. She went up to the bar and I turned to better check out the pool players. One in particular caught my eye. He had dark curly hair and an angular jaw. When he looked up at me I looked down, embarrassed. I opened my purse and fished around for some lip-gloss.

  “Let’s try these this time,” said Luna, setting three dark beers on the table. “One’s for Dannon,” she said about the extra one.

  They were awful, but we drank them down anyhow, and then, when Dannon still had not shown up, we poured hers into our own glasses and finished it, too.

  “Okay, enough buying me drinks. I’ll buy you a drink now,” I said. My voice sounded like it was happening miles away from me. I laughed at how far away and cloudy I sounded. When I stood up to go to the bar I stumbled and fell. I reached for the table, but instead of steadying myself, I knocked over my empty glass and it rolled onto the floor, breaking into several sharp chunks. I was too wasted to be embarrassed. I sat there on the floor, laughing.

  “Okay, you’ve had enough. Time to go,” said the bartender, coming out from behind the bar. He didn’t sound mad, at least not to me in the state I was in. Just concerned. And tired. I’m sure he dealt with this kind of thing all the time.

  “I’m good,” I told him. “It’s my birthday. I think you need to give me a free drink because I am twenty-one years old today.” I could barely speak. My words sounded over-annunciated, yet slurred at the same time. It just made me laugh more.

  “You’ve already had enough.” He leaned down and picked up the chunks of glass. “Watch out for that. Don’t touch that.” He grabbed a broom and dustpan and swept up the glass. I was still sitting on the floor. I let out a rumbly sigh like Mr. Ed. “Sweeping is boring,” I said.

  “That glass could be sharp,” said Luna to no one in particular.

  “I guess you’re really mad at me?” I asked the bartender.

  “I’m not mad at you,” he said.

  “Help me up,” I told him, holding up my hands. He pulled me up and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I kissed him. “Do you want to take me home?” I asked him. He put his hands on my back. I kissed him again.

  I felt a big hand on my wrist and the guy with the dark curly hair was standing behind the bartender. “I called you and your friend a cab,” he said to me. He was so cute. I let go of the bartender and wrapped my arms around his neck instead.

  “What? Why?”

  “Is this a friend of yours?” the bartender asked me. Or maybe he was asking the dark haired guy. I was so drunk that I wasn’t sure what was going on.

  “The cab is outside already. It’s waiting for you,” said the dark haired guy, removing my arms from around his neck. His green eyes seemed to look straight into my soul. I felt like his eyes were telling me he wanted me, yet he was pushing me away. My lips sought his with a primal, magnetic pull that momentarily sobered me up and for one perfect fraction of a second our lips touched. He broke away from me, but our eyes remained locked. I tried to kiss him again but he pulled back from me.

  “Do you know him?” asked the bartender protectively.

  “I’m helping her. I’m putting her in a cab,” said the curly haired guy to the bartender, irritated at being questioned. He escorted me outside, his arm around my waist.

  “But I’m not ready to go,” I told him.

  The next thing I knew, Luna and I were in the cab, heading back to our dorm.

  “Don’t throw up in here!” the cab driver told us over and over.

  “I’m going to puke if you say that one more time,” I warned him.

  “Did you know that guy?” asked Luna when we got dropped off.

  “The cab driver?” I asked.

  “No, the guy at the bar.”

  “The bartender?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, getting annoyed. “The guy who got us the cab.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I wish I knew him!”

  “Well he seemed like he knew you.”

  “Guys like that never know me.”

  To this day, I am convinced it was Adrian.

  He says he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

  Chapter 55

  The nursery became the only place I felt at ease. I started to read in there, sitting on the rocking chair with my feet up on the little ottoman. I had all the books associated with pregnancy: What to Expect When You’re Expecting, five different baby name books, Your Child’s First Year. Adrian left me alone when I was in there. I just closed the door and hours would go by with our house big and silent.

  When I tired of the baby books, I moved the television from the kitchen into the nursery, and sat there alone in the dim blue light, watching past episodes of Cut-Throat Couture. I fantasized that I was a designer on the show, and I was host Philip Widget’s favorite contestant. In my vivid imaginings, no judge or home viewer could resist my swingy frocks. When I checked out from reality and entered my fantasy design world, I was distracted to the point of feeling almost safe. But then eventually the Cut-Throat Couture blocks would give way to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy repeats, and bored and hungry, I would come crawling back into the light. Adrian was in his studio nearly all the time, so I was still alone out there.

  The truth was, there were times I thought about not going through with it. Not having the baby, I mean. Times I worried that Adrian and I were not good enough people to raise a baby, or that we were not strong enough to create a real family. I was afraid the best we could hope to be after all that had happened were three isolated, damaged individuals.

  This pregnancy often seemed like a part I was playing in a play or a movie; I woke up doubting whether it was even real. But it was. I could feel it. And w
hen I looked at myself in the mirror, I was starting to see how real it was.

  If I could magically undo this baby I would, but it was not that easy. The baby was coming, counting down the days until he was in my arms. How could I deny it, this nursery and my twice-canceled abortion appointments imminent proof of his arrival. And despite how I tried to distract myself, the baby stayed as focused as an arrow.

  Chapter 56

  I graduated from Madison in the spring of ’98 with a degree in Political Science. It took me five years because I kept changing my major. I was living in a dumpy, rodent-infested house on East Mifflin Street with six roommates. Since it cost so little to live there with rent being divided seven ways, no one was in a hurry to find a real job. Our roommate Bob was thirty-nine and working on his third doctorate. He fixed people’s inner tubes on their bicycles and sold pot out of the little shed in our backyard. Our roommates Steph, Michelle, and Bernadette had a unique three-way open relationship going for them that made Bernadette cry a lot and Michelle break a lot of dishes. Steph seemed to be the only one truly benefiting from it. Nora was quiet and nearly invisible, a blonde, ghostly girl from some place we all assumed to be Scandinavian. She sneaked around at night emptying our overflowing ashtrays and washing the dishes. The rest of us rarely saw her, but she always paid her rent on time and kept things clean and tidy, so she was a major asset. Sam was the seventh roommate.

  “Sam is such a turd,” Steph warned me.

  “Hmm. You’re probably right,” I said.

  Nearly seven feet tall and covered in thick, matted body hair, Sam wore his microscopic granny glasses perched on the tip of his tiny button nose. He had a peculiar, plastic smell about him, not unlike the aroma of a new Barbie doll. I convinced myself that he, like everyone, had some redeeming qualities that just needed uncovering. Perhaps he was musical. Or kind to animals. Perhaps he was cool. I turned his flaws into quirky assets. His digestive issues became an endearing sign of his humanness. The enormous bags that looked like change purses under his eyes seemed, at the time, a little edgy. Like Billy Joel.