Persuaded

by Rachel Schurig

  That same feeling I’d had when hugging Emma washed over me again—this time, I recognized it. It was the same way I felt whenever someone was condescending to me.

  “You’re not getting me out of anywhere,” I snapped. “I’m making my own choices, thank you.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” he said quickly, reaching for my hand. Grudgingly, I let him take it. “I just meant—God, I don’t know how you put up with that. I’m really glad you aren’t going to have to deal with that anymore.”

  Well, now how was I supposed to tell him about the conversation with Emma? Before I could think about it any further, he went on. “And that Emma? She was the worst one.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, come on, Annabelle. She talks to you like you’re some little pet of hers or something. And I swear to God, I’ve never met anyone more fake.”

  My annoyance was quickly blossoming into anger. I couldn’t argue much with his take on the others, but Emma was not fake. And I certainly wasn’t too pleased with the image he painted of me being her pet. He might have meant it as an insult to her, but what did it say about me, that he thought I would allow someone to treat me the way he was implying?

  “She’s not fake,” I said, my voice low. I wondered if he could hear the warning note in it. “She’s really nice to me, actually. She always has been.”

  He snorted and I yanked my hand away, full out pissed now.

  “Please. She’s awful.”

  “You don’t know her,” I said hotly. “You don’t know what she’s done for me.”

  “Sure I do,” he muttered. “She makes sure everyone knows just how indebted to her you are.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Really? That bit about the clothes was just an accident, then?”

  I felt like crying. My relationship with Emma was the longest of my life, except for my dad, of course. She had helped me when no one else would, when I was new and scared and alone. She had never asked anything in return except for my friendship. And now the man who was supposed to love me was shitting all over that relationship, making it seem petty and small.

  “She’s not perfect,” I said, struggling to keep from crying. “But she’s my best friend.”

  He went quiet right away, as if realizing he had crossed the line. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, voice tight. “I didn’t mean to insult her—”

  “Yes you did. And you insulted me, too.”

  He sighed. We were getting close to my street now. I had been planning on asking him to go for a walk to talk about school. Now I wondered how I was supposed to bring it up at all.

  We didn’t speak again until we pulled into the driveway. With the car off, he finally turned to me. “Look, love, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I just…I don’t like to see you mistreated. And that—” he gestured down the road, as if to her house. “That looked a lot like mistreatment to me.”

  “She wants what’s best for me, Rick. She really does care about me.”

  He watched me closely for a moment. “Did you talk to her about the trip?”

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  When I didn’t offer more information, he frowned. “Let me guess. She didn’t approve?”

  I gaped at him. “How did you know that?”

  “It was pretty obvious that she didn’t think I was good enough for you.”

  I remembered the expression on her face when she had called him a drifter. “That’s not true,” I lied.

  “Please, Annabelle. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

  We sat there in silence for a moment. I had no idea what to say, how to go back to where we were the day before.

  “So that’s why you’ve been so weird,” he said, his voice sounding strange to me, unlike himself. “Ever since you saw her car last night.”

  “I have not been weird.”

  He quelled me with a look. “As soon as you saw her you tensed right up. You didn’t even want me to come to the door.” He shook his head. “And you certainly didn’t want me going to that party.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Are you embarrassed of me, Annabelle?”

  I gasped. “How dare you!”

  “How dare I? What about you? You couldn’t have made it any more clear that you were uncomfortable with me around your friends.”

  “Because of them, not because of you. They’re rude, okay, Rick? Some of them are rude, I don’t deny it. I didn’t want you to have to deal with that.”

  “Is Emma one of the rude ones?”

  “No,” I snapped. “She was perfectly polite to you. She’s not like that!”

  “Then why were you worried for me to meet her? If you knew she wasn’t ‘like that,’ then why did you flip out when you saw her here last night?”

  “Because I didn’t want her to talk me out of it!” I exploded. “Okay?”

  He went very still. “And did she? Talk you out of it?”

  “No,” I rubbed my forehead, feeling confused all over again. “Yes. I don’t know.”

  “I see.”

  This was not how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to bring up our plans, tell him about school, make him see how conflicted I was. Now it was going to sound like I was just doing what Emma told me to do.

  She treats you like a little pet.

  “Is that it, then?” he asked, his voice very cold and formal. “You’re not coming with me?”

  “I didn’t say that!” I felt like crying. “I just don’t know if I want to drop out of school. It’s a big deal, Rick.”

  “It didn’t seem like a big deal yesterday.”

  “I was trying not to think about it yesterday!”

  “And what made you think about it?” he asked, his voice sarcastic in a way I had never heard from him before. I didn’t like it. “Oh, let me guess. Emma reminded you.”

  “Yes, she did. Okay? She reminded me of how hard I’ve worked and how much I wanted this. How much I sacrificed. How much my dad sacrificed. I was too head over heels to think about all of that, Rick. Living in a fantasy land or—”

  He hissed in a sharp breath, and I caught myself. “Not a fantasy land, I didn’t mean that. I just meant—”

  “I think I know what you meant.”

  “You don’t—”

  “You saw me with you friends and realized how much I didn’t fit in, didn’t you?”

  “No! That has nothing—”

  “Really? I think that’s exactly what happened.”

  “Why are you being like this?” I cried, wiping away tears that were now falling hot and fast on my cheeks. “You sound so nasty.”

  “Maybe I don’t take breakups so easily.”

  I felt my entire body go cold. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

  “No? That’s what it sounds like.”

  I grabbed his arm, wanting to shake him, wanting to stop this. “I love you! I want to be with you. I just don’t know if I want to drop out of school!”

  “So what do you propose, Annabelle? I go to Europe alone while you stay here with Emma?”

  “No! Or—I don’t know! If you want to. I thought—I thought you could come to Brown with me. Just for a year. While I finish school. We can go to Europe then!”

  He shook his head. “And what happens in a year? What will she guilt you into then? Law school? What if her parents offer to pay for that?”

  I wanted to slap him. How dare he judge me for accepting their help? “And who paid for your school, Rick?” I snarled. “Why did you get to go to Oxford again?”

  His face grew even colder. “I think I should go.”

  I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. I couldn’t believe this was happening. “You won’t wait for me?” I whispered. “Not even for a year?”

  “I would wait a lifetime for you, Annabelle, if I thought it would do me any good.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that I
don’t believe you’ll ever be strong enough to break away from her. You let her control you. I could see it from the day you told me about her. I thought I was giving you a chance to break away from that, but I can see now that you have no intention of ever doing that.”

  It felt like he punched me, the pain in my gut was so strong. “If you really think I’m so weak, it’s a wonder you want to be with me at all.”

  When he didn’t argue, I let out a sob. “She warned me,” I whispered. “She warned me that you didn’t deserve me.”

  He turned to me, his eyes alight with anger. “Maybe she was right.” He waved his hand in my direction, as if to encompass my entire being. “Maybe I don’t deserve any of this.”

  “I can’t believe this is you.” I shook my head, feeling numb. “It’s like I don’t even know you.”

  He stared at me, right into my eyes, his gaze hard—but there was something there behind the anger, something stronger. Hurt. “I could say the same about you.”

  I reached for the door handle, pulling it blindly through my tears. “Have fun in Europe,” I gasped as I finally managed to push it open. I stumbled to my feet and took off for the house in a run. Even then, I thought he might follow me, that I would feel his hands around my waist at any moment, pulling me close, to that spot on his shoulder where my head fit so perfectly. That we would apologize, that we would figure out a way through this.

  But he didn’t.

  I slammed the door behind me, sobbing in a way I don’t think I ever had. It felt like every inch of my heart was being shattered into smaller and smaller pieces, the pain like a physical ache in my chest. I heard the door of the truck slam and froze, my heart welling up in hope. He was coming back for me.

  A long minute passed without a knock on the door behind me. Then another. Was he standing on the porch, debating what to do? Finally I peeked through the front window—he wasn’t there.

  I frowned, confused. If he wasn’t in the truck and he wasn’t on the walkway, where was he? I pulled open the front door, curiosity winning out over my heartbreak. The walkway, drive, and sidewalk were all empty, no Rick in sight.

  But his truck sat there, abandoned. A sick feeling started to spread from my stomach to my limbs as I stepped out of the house and made my way to the truck. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to find, but I knew it wouldn’t be good.

  I took a deep breath as I peered into the window. There in the ignition were the keys. He had left the truck. The truck my dad had lent him in exchange for work. He had left it.

  I reeled back, feeling dizzy. So he wasn’t planning on using the truck anymore. Which meant…he wasn’t planning on working at the shop anymore. And if he wasn’t working at the shop anymore…

  “He’s gone,” I whispered, the words hurting my throat on the way out. “He’s gone.”

  Somehow, I made it back into the house, though I was sure my legs would give out at any moment. My vision felt blurry, like the world was closing in on me. Rick was gone. Rick was gone.

  I sank to the floor in front of the door and reached blindly for my purse. I needed my phone, needed to call the only person I could imagine seeing right now. The only one who could help me make sense of this.

  The only one who had always been there for me, no matter what.

  ***

  An hour later, Emma brought me a mug of hot cocoa before climbing back under the blanket with me. “Move over just a tad,” she said, wiggling her legs. “There, thanks.”

  I rested my head against her shoulder, taking a sip of the cocoa. “I gave you extra marshmallows,” she said matter of factly.

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  “I mean it, Emma.” My voice sounded ragged and thick after a full hour of crying. “Thank you for coming.”

  She scoffed. “Give me a break, Annabelle. I’m your best friend. This is my job.”

  “I just can’t believe it,” I whimpered, feeling another crying jag coming on. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “Shh,” she soothed, brushing my hair back from my forehead. She had arrived at my house within ten minutes of my call, finding me still huddled on the floor, sobbing. With the efficiency and calm she was known for, she had me up on my feet and in the bathroom within minutes. She had me splash cold water on my face and then hustled me down to my room where she climbed right under the covers with me and rubbed my back while I cried. I couldn’t remember anyone ever taking such good care of me. Not even before my mom left.

  “You’re going to get through this, Annabelle,” she told me, handing me another tissue. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you will.”

  “I can’t believe he left like that,” I said, wiping furiously at my swollen eyes. “I really can’t.”

  She sighed. So far, she hadn’t said I told you so, but I had a feeling she might be thinking it.

  “I should have listened to you,” I said. “Should have taken it as a warning sign when he didn’t care about me dropping out of school.”

  “I think he just didn’t understand, you know?” she ran her fingers down my arm, deep in thought. “He obviously doesn’t care as much about his education or his career—I mean, he took off as soon as he graduated, didn’t he? He can’t possibly understand someone like you, Annabelle. Someone so driven and passionate.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry to say it, but he just wasn’t in your league.”

  I thought of the way he would talk about his work, about the way his eyes would light up when the subject of architecture would come up. The way he had tramped through run-down streets in the worst neighborhoods in the city to explore the buildings he revered. She was wrong—but it hurt too much to think about that, so I didn’t argue.

  “I really think this is for the best,” she was saying, and I tried to focus on her so the pain wouldn’t make me cry out. “This way, you can go into your senior year totally free and unencumbered.”

  Loving him wasn’t an encumbrance, I thought, and the tears started to come again. She must have seen them because she changed tactics quickly. “We’re going to have the best time this year, Annabelle. We are. I have so much planned for us.” But it was too late. Immediately, my mind was flashing through the images I had created of Rick and me in Madrid together. The tears came faster.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Emma said, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “’S not your fault,” I managed through the sobs.

  “You know what you need?” She sat up straighter, and I knew even through the pain that she had one of her big ideas. “You need to get out of here.”

  “I do?”

  She nodded, looking almost excited. “You do. You have all these memories here, and its only going to make you miserable to sit around this house or go back to the shop.”

  I thought about the break room without Rick’s face and shuddered.

  “You need to take your mind off things. Relax. And I have just the thing.”

  “You do?”

  “Absolutely.” She hopped off the bed, grabbing her phone from the purse she’d dropped on my nightstand. “Daddy?” she asked before stepping out into the hallway where I couldn’t hear her.

  Alone in my bed, I tried to calm the tears. The last person who had been in this room was Rick. In fact, we’d slept together right here only four days ago. Don’t think about that, I ordered myself. You’ll never stop crying if you think about that.

  Then Emma was back, smiling in satisfaction as she tossed the phone in her bag. “All taken care of.”

  “What is?”

  “We’re going to Cancun, girlfriend.”

  “What?”

  “I just talked to my dad. He’s making arrangements for us to use the jet as we speak.”

  “But—”

  “No arguments.” She came over and sat at the edge of my bed. “You’ve been through a shitty thing, Annabelle. There’s no way I’m letting you go back to school feeling like this. It’s our senior year! We’ve been wa
iting for this for ages.” She grinned at me. “So let’s get the hell out of town and spend a week drinking margaritas on the beach.”

  I had to admit, it sounded awfully good right now. I couldn’t make myself care too much about using the private jet or about what I’m sure would be a fantastic suite at a fantastic resort. But the idea of not being in this room, in this house, in this town—where there were so many damn memories—appealed to me more than I could tell her.

  “Okay,” I said, throwing the blanket off my legs. “Let’s do it.”

  “Really?” She looked thrilled at my fast capitulation.

  “Really. You’re right, I need to get out of here.”

  She threw her arms around me. “This is going to be the best!”

  I wasn’t sure I would go that far. Sure, it sounded a hell of a lot better than staying here, but I had a feeling my pain was strong enough to follow me to Mexico.

  “Let’s get you packed,” she said, releasing me so she could look around for my bag. I swallowed hard, trying not to think about the plans I had already been making to pack my things for a much longer trip.

  You need to stop thinking about it, I told myself as I pulled my small suitcase from under the bed. It’s over now.

  Emma chatted excitedly as we got my things together, and I tuned her out. It was hard not to imagine the coming week on vacation with her, the months of study that would follow. It was for the best. I would get my degree as planned. Go to law school as planned. Get a job somewhere close to Emma as planned. These were all the things I’d been working for. A good job, a good salary, a chance to make something of myself. It was exactly what my dad had always wanted for me. Exactly what I had wanted for myself.

  Of its own accord, my mind flashed to a plaza in Madrid. A stone street in Barcelona. The Coliseum in Rome. Exploring and adventure. Lying by a lake in the woods.

  Stop it.

  That just wasn’t the life I was going to lead. I could still go to Europe. It would actually be a lot easier to travel if I had a good job, right? I could still have adventures. Could fall in love.

  My stomach dropped at the thought. How could I ever love anyone the way I’d loved Rick? It didn’t seem possible.

  Rick left, I reminded myself, throwing a bikini into the bag. He wouldn’t wait for you.