Ruined

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by Hanna, Rachel


  My only sexual experience was with Billy Monroe, the star quarterback of my high school, when I was sixteen years old. In pain over my father's death, I let Billy have his way with me one night after a football game. I let the anguish wash away in the back of his father's black Ford pickup truck, but later realized that I hadn't accomplished anything but losing my virginity to a guy who didn't care. Not my finest hour, and I don't think Billy was all that legendary. I remember feeling like I'd been sold a bill of goods. Billy was notorious for having a big "member". I'd read all about it on the bathroom walls for months. Even Ginny Callahan said it was true, and she did it with anyone and everyone. But when I finally saw it, I thought it looked more like a partially decorated Christmas tree from one of the those Charlie Brown specials on TV. The sad little Christmas tree that no one wanted. The skinny one that leaned to the side and didn't have much landscaping around it. That was Billy Monroe's famous penis.

  He wasn't what I thought he was, and later he spread rumors about me and how he'd done it with "her". The town villain. And then it became apparent that we couldn't stay there anymore. Time was up, and my mother and I needed a fresh start.

  When I get home after editing, my mother is sitting up reading a book on the sofa. For as long as I can remember, she has loved to read. Usually those raunchy romance novels with the hunky, completely unrealistic men on the covers. Now she reads on her iPad so no one knows what kind of trash she might be reading.

  "Oh, hi, dear," she says as I come into the room. She turns off her iPad and sits it beside her. "Come, sit down," she says patting the sofa. Uh oh. Here we go. Let the questions begin.

  "Where's Bruce?"

  "He went to bed early. He has meetings with developers at six in the morning. He's trying to work ahead since he knows Kellan coming home is going to put him behind."

  "Does he say much about him?"

  "Not really. He has a lot of mixed feelings, and I'm worried about how he'll react to him. One part of him wants the best for his son, but the larger part seems intent on continuing to punish him for what he did. You know, he rarely went and saw Kellan in prison. I'm sure the boy is going to have some resentments too. It's just not a good situation," she says shaking her head. "I'm so thankful I didn't have to go through that with you. That things worked out..."

  "Mom, things didn't work out. Are you serious?" I snip as I pull a pillow in front of me.

  "You know what I mean, Willow. At least I didn't have to visit you in prison. The police understood what happened, and we didn't have to go through this whole prison thing."

  "Well, I'm still in prison every single fucking day, Mom."

  "Willow, watch your mouth!"

  "Sorry."

  "When are you going to forgive yourself?"

  "Have you forgiven me?"

  "You know I did a long time ago, Willow."

  "Well, I don't know how."

  "Because I'm your mother, and I know your heart. Speaking of hearts, tell me what's going on with you and this Reed guy. He seems so nice, very different from his father."

  "Henry isn't nice?"

  "He's not mean, but he's definitely not nice. You don't want to get on his wrong side, especially in a court case. He's stiff and rigid and kind of a jackass most of the time."

  "Who needs to watch their mouth now, mother?" I say wagging a finger and laughing.

  "Jackass isn't a bad word." We both start laughing, and it's nice to have a moment like this with my mother. "So, back to my original question. What's up with you and Reed?"

  "Absolutely nothing is up, Mom. And nothing is going to be up."

  "Why, Willow?"

  "Because, as I've told you a million times, I'm damaged goods. It's more important to protect us from my past than it is for me to fall in love."

  "That's not true."

  "It is true. And someone like Reed Miller isn't going to fall in love with a person like me. Once he finds out what I did, he will never speak to me again."

  ***

  For the next two days, Reed and I spend time after classes editing. He says I'm a big help as far as getting things done faster, but I think I'm more company than anything else. But, for some reason, he seems to enjoy having me there. No more talk of dating has happened, and it's just as well. I'm not really dating material. Once any guy finds out what I did, he won't ever want me again anyway. I'm damaged. Tarnished. Ruined.

  We never talk about what happened at the restaurant. Instead, tension seems to ease up on its own and now we are just colleagues. It doesn't take away the fact that I spend a lot of my time fantasizing about him, and wondering what else those talented hands of his could do. But, he's not interested. This much is clear.

  Broadcasting class hasn't been as hard as I'd worried either. I'm really enjoying the hands on teaching that I get in that class. We even have an anchor desk where we practice running through scripts, learning how to use a teleprompter and learning how to do live shots. I'm learning how to work the cameras and lighting too, although I have no interest in either. I want to be a reporter, plain and simple. I want my words to matter.

  I admire how talented Reed is at what he does. He runs the tiny station with both an iron fist and an amazing amount of compassion for those around him. When broadcasting class is over today, I head down the hallway and out the back door. My normal beach walk is interrupted by a familiar voice.

  "Willow?" she says, and I turn around to see Emmy standing beside the path to the beach with a look of apology on her face.

  "What?" I say as I continue right past her.

  "Please! Just let me talk to you, okay?" Her voice sounds sorrowful and almost desperate. I stop and turn around.

  "So talk."

  "I'm so sorry about the beach party, Willow. I never meant for it to get so out of hand."

  "Who are those people, Emmy?"

  "Most were people from the dorm and my now ex boyfriend Scott."

  "You broke up?"

  "He screwed my roommate, Jessie, that night." Tears start to fall from her eyes and she moans with her hands over her face. "I swore I wouldn't cry about this again. Ugh..."

  "He had sex with Jessie? On the beach?" I say with my mouth gaping open. Obviously, I've led a sheltered life because this stuns me.

  "In front of me. I was so drunk on whatever that stuff was, and he meant for that to happen. Jessie was drunk too. He took advantage of both of us, and I feel so used, Willow. I'm used up and only nineteen years old," she says as she sinks down to the sand and cries. I'm not the best at consoling people as I prefer to keep my distance, but I sit down next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. She immediately falls into my chest and sobs.

  "You're not used up, Emmy. You made a mistake trusting a creep, and you've learned a valuable lesson. You can't trust everyone. I learned that a long time ago."

  "I hate him..."

  "Where's Jessie?" I ask.

  "She moved in with another person in the dorm. We just couldn't stand the sight of each other after that. The thought of it makes me sick. Hey, do you wanna move in with me?" she asks with a slight smile.

  "I can't, Emmy. I have to stay where I am right now. You know that."

  "I know," she says as she hangs her head again. "Willow, can we still be friends?"

  I pause for a moment because I haven't really thought of Emmy as my friend up until now. I've thought of her as the semi pesky, way too perky fellow student, but not as a friend. Maybe I could use a friend. She's nice, if not too trusting, and she likes me for some strange reason.

  "Of course we can still be friends, Emmy. No worries, okay?" I say rubbing her shoulder and then removing my arm.

  "Good. Listen, I'm going to get some sleep now. I've barely slept worrying about this conversation with you."

  She was worried about talking to me? It makes no sense that anyone would worry about talking to me. Why would I matter that much to her?

  Emmy stands up, gives me a quick hug and walks slowly toward her dorm
. Something inside of me wells up out of nowhere.

  "Hey, Em?" I call. Em? Where did that come from?

  "Yeah?" she says turning around.

  "Don't beat yourself up about this, okay? We live and learn. Learn from it and move on."

  "Thanks," she says, and my Dr. Phil moment is over as she disappears around the corner.

  Chapter 9

  Dinner with my mother and Bruce is always odd which is why I spend a lot of meals eating alone on my deck overlooking the ocean. The house is so big that it has never felt like a real home, and I always feel the watchful eyes of my mother when sitting at a table with her. There's too much between us. Too many raw, unsolved emotions and feelings lurking just under the surface. I think we both prefer to leave it that way - allow them to lurk but never come out into the light of day. Pretend they're not there, that's the way to continue living.

  "So, Willow, are you interested in riding with us down to Atlanta to pick up Kellan tomorrow?" Bruce finally asks, cutting his eyes toward my mother.

  "Um," I say softly, knowing my answer is really "Hell no, but thanks anyway".

  "It's okay if you don't want to go," he says while my mother gives me a pointed look.

  "Actually, it's not that. I have a test in broadcasting class tomorrow," I say, which is actually true.

  "Oh. Got it. That is definitely important."

  "Are you enjoying your classes?" my mother asks, trying to break the tension.

  "Yes, I am. More than I thought I would," I say with a smile.

  "Good. Maybe Kellan can take some classes there, Bruce," she says softly.

  "Pam, really? The boy is just getting out of prison. He'll be lucky to work at the fast food joint down the street," he says gritting his teeth. I've never seen Bruce so keyed up before. He's normally pretty laid back.

  "Surely you want him to have a chance to do well in life, Bruce?" Suddenly I feel like the third wheel in the room, so I just keep my head down and eat.

  "Of course I do, Pam, but let's be realistic here. He killed people. Real people who had lives and dreams and family members who miss them. He took away lives, so how much of a life can he really have now?"

  "He's served his time, Bruce."

  "And was that enough?" he asks, which pierces my soul. I never served any time, and my mother shoots her eyes in my direction and then back down at her fork.

  "How long should he suffer then? Should he just never get to start his life over? He was a kid who made a deadly mistake, but does he deserve a life sentence for it?" she asks, and that sends Bruce over the edge. He slams his fork down, stands up and storms out of the house. My mother's eyes well up with tears as she takes a deep breath and puts her face in her hands.

  "Mom, it's okay..." I say as I scoot closer to her.

  "He doesn't know about you, Willow. And this is exactly why I haven't told him. God, why can't life be easier?" she says to herself before standing up and walking out of the dining room. I hear her bedroom door close quietly, and I've never felt more alone in this huge house full of secrets.

  ***

  Today is the day Kellan is coming home. Mom and Bruce left in the wee hours of the morning to drive to Atlanta. I have no idea what to expect, so I try to focus on other things. I have my first broadcasting test this morning which is basically to demonstrate what I've learned so far. No written tests in broadcasting class, but I do have to sit on the anchor desk and showcase my vocal talents.

  To my surprise, Reed is standing outside the door to my classroom when I arrive.

  "Hey," he says with a smile. He has such a nice smile, and it melts me a bit every time I see it.

  "Hey, yourself," I say back.

  "Listen, I need your help. Dexter still isn't back, and honestly I'm starting to wonder if he's coming back at all. There's a special we're running next week showcasing all of the sports events that Deaton has been involved in over the last decade. It's a big deal to the deans, so it has to get done and be ready to run by next Friday. There's no way I'm going to be able to catalog all of the footage by myself, edit it, produce it..."

  "Say no more. I'd be glad to help, Reed. When do you need me?"

  "Tonight. Maybe until the wee hours of the morning," he says with his hands clasped in front of his face as if he's praying that I can help him. I stare for a moment remembering the awkward and then angry conversation I witnessed at dinner with my mother and Bruce. Knowing that they'll be home with wayward Kellan Avery in a few hours, I make a quick decision to help Reed and stay out of the situation at home.

  "No problem," I say with a smile. "See you around seven?"

  "That would be great. Maybe we can grab dinner too?" The look on his face is different this time. He looks happy and maybe a little excited? I find it weird, but I don't have too much time to think before I need to head to my writing class.

  As I walk to class, I text my mother, who is still in Atlanta.

  Working at the station late tonight. Don't wait up.

  ***

  When I arrive at the station, Reed is sitting in the editing booth up to his elbows in old tapes. He doesn't know I'm standing there, so I take a moment to absorb the sight of him. He's not overly muscular, but he has a nice build. He's not too tall, not too short. Just right. I almost laugh when I realize I sound like I'm retelling the Three Bears story.

  He groans and smacks his hand on an empty tape case when something doesn't go quite right in the editing process. Such a perfectionist. I wonder if he wants to be, or if he does it in a constant quest to make his father proud.

  "Hey," I finally say from the doorway. He turns around, and his blue eyes already look tired.

  "Oh, hey," he says with a relieved smile.

  "Help has arrived, although I'm not sure how much help I'll be," I say as I walk over and take the seat next to him.

  "You're more help than you know, Miss Blake," he says as he bumps my shoulder with his. "I've grown tired of doing all of this alone most of the time. No one takes it as seriously as I do. I mean, I'm sorry about Dexter's grandmother, but he hasn't even checked in once. I had to track him down on a text message." Reed really does take this "job" seriously. But it isn't even really a job since he doesn't get a paycheck. I wonder how long his Dad will continue allowing him to live without expenses in Journalism school.

  "So what can I do?"

  "Take me to dinner," he says with a smile as he leans his head back and closes his eyes.

  "How long have you been in this room, Reed? You look shot, and it's only seven."

  "Four hours."

  "What? Four hours? Why didn't you wait for me?" I ask slapping him on the arm.

  "Because I didn't want to take up your whole evening. I'm sure you have better things to do."

  "Not really. Trust me," I say rolling my eyes. "No more working for you, young man. Food. You need food. And drinks." I grab his hand and pull him up out of the chair.

  "Why, Miss Blake, are you planning to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?" he asks as he stands up and throws an arm around my shoulder.

  "Let's see how it goes," I say with a laugh as we turn off the lights and head for his car.

  A few minutes later, we're walking into Surfers, a favorite local restaurant, bar and all-around hangout for local college students. Set right on the beach, the restaurant is usually loud and boisterous which is why most families stay away from it. On this night, trivia is the focus. Each table has a trivia box where anyone can answer the questions popping up on the big screen throughout the place. I've been here once with my mother since we moved to town, but she swore she'd never go back because it was too loud. Music blares tonight from the speakers, and someone is giving a terrible karaoke performance of "Wind Beneath My Wings". In fact, it sounds like a large turkey's wings are being crushed.

  "Welcome to Surfers. Can I start you off with something to drink?" the perky blond waitress asks. Her shirt is two sizes too small, it seems, and her shorts would rival Daisy Duke.


  "I'll take whatever you have on draft," Reed says before looking at me. "Are you drinking tonight, Miss Blake?" he asks with a crooked smile before looking back down at his menu. Oh no he didn't just do that, did he? Is he being sarcastic? He's not my parent. I don't need someone telling me what I can or cannot do.

  "I'll have the same," I say smirking at him.

  "Can I see your ID?" she says. Oops. World just stopped turning and Reed is trying not to break into hysterical laughter. He baited me for sure, and I obviously wasn't remembering that I'm nineteen and not able to drink legally yet. Well played, Reed Miller.

 

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