Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never

by C. M. Stunich

  What's the difference? Removing your panties for the doctor or for some guy you don't even know? Since when do you care so much, Never?

  And then I'm holding my lacy boyshorts in my hand and crying again. I press them to my face which sounds weird but isn't because I think I'm starting to realize exactly what it is that's wrong with me.

  Never Ross wants to be loved.

  It's that simple, but it's not that easy.

  20

  “I oughta fucking kill you for making me go through that shit,” I tell Ty as I light up just steps from the clinic's front door. My hands are shaking so bad that it takes me four tries to get a flame out of the friggin' lighter. I blame it on the trauma of the experience combined with the horrible two week wait that I am now being forced to endure. I can't get the results soon enough. Until then, I'll be lucky if I can sleep, eat, or manage to pass my midterms. “They spread me open like a Thanksgiving turkey.” Ty laughs and tries to take the cigarette from my outstretched hand, but I pull it away and give him a look.

  “At least you didn't have an intern grab your dick and shove a Q-tip into it,” he says, and it's my turn to laugh. It's a nervous laugh, but at least it's there. I feel lighter somehow, like I left all my baggage at the clinic with no return address. Please do not return to sender, I think as Ty grabs me by the waist with one hand, pulls me against his chest, and steals the cigarette from me with the other. He releases me as he puts it to his lips and smiles. “That swab thing is now on my 'Weirdest Shit I've Ever Done' list.”

  “At least you didn't have to put your legs in metal stirrups and have some uptight bitch put a spotlight on your crotch. It was like some kind of science fiction book gone wrong. Ugh.”

  “Mine was worse,” Ty promises as we meander through the campus without any specific sense of direction. “When they made me take my pants off, I was hard.”

  “Why?” I ask which is a fucking stupid question.

  “Because I was thinking of you,” Ty says, and I roll my eyes.

  “I'm immune to one-liners, McCabe. I think you should know that by now. I resisted the one you fed me when we first met, didn't I?” Ty stops walking, and I have to turn around to look at him. He's gazing up at the clock tower that looms over this part of the campus. It's all brick, a nice, tall, imposing phallic symbol put there by men with high ideals and small minds, but I like it anyway. There's a bit of character in the molding, the splash of rust orange paint the original builders used around the clock face.

  “That wasn't a line,” Ty says as the wind grabs his dark hair with gentle fingers and brushes it over his forehead. He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and shifts his gaze to my face.

  “Liar,” I say as he moves forward and pauses next to me.

  “Maybe,” he tells me as bends over, hovers his lips above mine, close enough that I can feel his breath, but far enough away that he doesn't come close to touching the burning cherry of my cigarette.

  “What do you want with me?” I ask him when he moves away and stretches his arms above his head. When he does that, the muscles in his arms slide beneath his skin just enough that it looks like the butterflies are moving their wings.

  “Do I have to have an answer to that?” he asks me as he drops his arms to his sides. The courtyard has been quiet all this time, empty of everyone but Ty, myself, and a small flock of gulls that have drifted in from the bay, but now that classes are letting out, people are starting to brave the cold, crisscrossing the yard to get to the dorms and the other classrooms. They move between us while Ty waits for me to respond. “What do you want with me?” he asks finally when he realizes that I'm not going to say a damn thing. “You came to get me, so you must've had a plan in mind.”

  “I didn't,” I tell him honestly. “I just wanted to see you. I missed you. I don't know why, but I did. You, on the other hand, are the one with the fucking plan. You took me to that stupid clinic for a reason and I'm guessing it's not because you wanted to get in my pants again. I don't know if I'll ever be able to have sex again after that nightmare.” Ty smiles, but his dimples don't show, and shakes his head.

  “What if I told you I had a plan, but that I didn't want to talk about it? Would that be okay?” I stare at him and try to figure out what to say. This relationship between Ty and me is taking more energy and effort than anything I have ever done before. Normally, this is something I would walk away from, give up entirely and forget, but I can't. Somehow, it's a little different this time.

  “Fine.”

  “Now can I have your secret?” he asks with a sexy smirk that guys like him always use to get what they want. This time, at least, it isn't sex that he's after.

  “Do we have time?” I ask sarcastically. “What about our sex addicts meeting?” People stare at me as they walk by, but I don't give a shit. Ty steps a bit closer, enough that students stop moving between us and have to go around, parting like the sea around a cluster of rocks.

  “If I tell you something, you have to promise to forgive me.”

  “Maybe. What is it?” I blow smoke into Ty's face and he doesn't even blink.

  “When you told me you had something to tell me, I panicked.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I went out to a bar and I picked up a girl.”

  “That's fucking amazing, Ty,” I tell him, feeling some of my stress leaking back. I toss my cigarette into a nearby garbage can and search for gum. I don't have any on me, so I go for another cigarette. Ty takes it between his fingers and puts it behind his ear.

  “I had sex with her because I was afraid of you.”

  “How romantic. Why are you telling me this?” Ty takes me by the shoulders and looks into my eyes with his dark ones. When I get caught in them, I can't see much else. They're mesmerizing.

  “I thought you were going to tell me that you loved me, and I was afraid of that.”

  “I don't even know you,” I tell him as I push his hands away. “Why would you think that?”

  “Never,” he says as I try to walk away. Ty grabs my hand and pulls me back. “I want you to scream with me.”

  “Scream?” I ask as I struggle to extract my grip from his, but he's strong and I end up giving in and letting him hold it.

  “Yeah, scream with me. Yell, shout, let all your worries out.”

  “Here?” I ask, but I notice that the courtyard is getting quiet, leaving Ty and I alone with the clock tower once again.

  “Why not?”

  “What's the point, Ty? Are you trying to prove something to me? Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I don't want to be afraid anymore.”

  How the hell do you say no to that?

  “Fine, but we have to do it together. If you bail on me, I will wring your fucking neck.” Ty grins and lets go of my hand. His silver bracelets bump against the rings on his fingers like a wind chime, filling the air with a merry tinkling.

  “Ready?” he asks, but I'm not sure that I am. I nod anyway and take a big breath, pulling in the scent of winter and Marlboros and change. It's sitting heavy around me and although I didn't expect it, I'll roll with it because that's what I do. After all, I have nothing to lose anyway. Someone who struggles to find something to live for each morning and who despairs at night shouldn't be adverse to change. Otherwise they might end up like me.

  “One,” Ty begins as he tosses his cigarette into the trash. “Two.” He smiles at me, nice and big. “Three.”

  Ty and I both take big, fat breaths, tilt our heads to the sky and scream. It's such a stupid thing to do that we both end up in fits of laughter, grabbing onto one another to stay standing as the students around us peek out windows and scratch their heads and wonder what the hell the two crazy people in the courtyard are doing.

  Strangely enough, I'm proud to be one of them.

  21

  “My father was murdered.”

  These are the only words I get out before Ty realizes how big the scope of my secret is. He reaches out, wraps hi
s arms around me and pulls me to his chest. I can barely breathe with my face crushed to the hard muscles of Ty's body, but it feels so damn good that I don't even bother to struggle.

  “Are you up for getting something to eat?” he asks me randomly. “Because I have a feeling this is something that shouldn't be rushed.” Ty relaxes his grip on me just enough that he can pull his phone out of his pocket. “We have a few hours until the meeting, but … ” He releases me and just stares, dark eyes searching my face for an answer. There's so much guilt in his, so much pain. He feels bad for sleeping with that girl, I can tell.

  “But you're right,” I tell him as I turn away and force him to follow me across a small bridge. We're deep in the campus' gardens now. It's getting close to winter so most of the bushes are bare and there are hardly any flowers, but it's still beautiful. There are evergreens towering above us, dipping into the cloudy sky and tasting the first drops of rain that are beginning to fall. Interspersed throughout are the bare skeletons of deciduous trees, naked of leaves but captivating nonetheless. They remind me of Ty in a strange way. “That's not it, not all of it.” I pause and glance over at him. “It gets worse.”

  “Worse?” Ty asks with raised brows. “How much worse?”

  “Tell me,” I begin as the rain sprinkles Ty's dark hair and makes it glow beneath the lamps that are spaced out along the pathway. “Do you have a past?”

  “We all have a past,” Ty says as he reaches down and takes my hand in his. “But I can't talk about mine. Maybe someday but not now.” I nod because I understand completely. “Come over to my place tonight,” he blurts suddenly and I almost stumble. We were picking up our pace, heading for the covered walkways to get out of the rain, but now we're back to a crawl.

  “Ty … ” He holds up his hand and crosses his fingers together.

  “No sex, no pressure, I promise. I want you to tell me your story. All of it.” I look at him skeptically, but he seems genuine, like he's telling me the truth. I want to believe him because as far as I know, he's only lied once. He said he didn't seek someone out to have sex with, but then he told me he picked a girl up in a bar. What am I supposed to do? “We'll have some beer and watch The Walking Dead.”

  “I hate zombies,” I tell him, and he smiles.

  “Me, too,” he says with a wink that makes his eyebrow ring sparkle. “Are we on then?” he asks as the rain turns from sprinkles to showers. I start walking backwards, expecting Ty to follow. He doesn't. I hold out a hand and his smile turns into a grin. “I'm not moving from this spot until you say yes.” Ty's dark hair falls into his face and drips down his nose, taking him from handsome to godly. I never could resist a bad boy, especially not one whose shirt is plastered to perfect pecs, molded against a set of abs that would convince anyone to try whatever it was that he was selling. I can't stand seeing him in the cold rain with no coat and that sexy smirk on his face, so I sigh.

  “Okay,” I say as I shake my hand for emphasis. “As long as you get out of the fucking storm. Come on.” Ty takes my hand and we finish our jog to safety. “I'm not religious, you know,” I tell Ty as we slip into the one of the science buildings and head back the way we came.

  “Neither am I,” he says as we drip water across the red-orange floors. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Sex Addicts Anonymous, they're a religious group.” Ty stops walking for a moment.

  “How do you know that?” he asks me with a cheeky smile. “You look 'em up before?” I shrug.

  “We talked a little about them in one of my classes.” Ty nods and we start to walk again.

  “This group isn't actually a Sex Addicts Anonymous faction, just a copycat.” Ty points at my coat. “Second pocket down on your right.” I snap open the button and pull out another brochure. The coat's kept it dry luckily, so even though it's wrinkled, I can still read it.

  “The Sexual Obsession Group,” I say and look up at Ty. “SOG?” Ty laughs and the sound echoes beautifully through the hallways. The brochure shows a girl and a boy painting a mural together with vibrant colors, laughing and smiling like they don't have a care in the world. Pure fantasy. I unfold the paper and scan the Commitments section.

  While our group is not about abandoning the idea of sex, we do ask that members commit to a six month celibacy in order to get their thoughts, urges, and desires under control. Oftentimes, sexual addiction is just a cover-up for a deeper issue and if we can't reveal it, we may never find out what is really wrong.

  I fold the brochure back up and stick it in the pocket. When I look up, Ty is watching me. I wonder about his past, but I won't ask again, not unless he gives me some indication that I should. He and I are so much the same that it makes me want to cry. I don't know why; it just does. Maybe it's because my past is rising to the surface like lava, getting ready to erupt and destroy everything around me? And if that's happening to me, then it's happening to Ty, too.

  “I'm sorry about your dad,” Ty says as he reaches down and wraps his big hand around mine. It fits nicely there, too nicely. It scares me just a bit, just enough that I let go and pretend that I need to fidget with my wet jacket.

  “That's okay, I barely remember the prick,” I say as I think about all the times he left home, left me and Beth and Jade and Zella alone with that woman, that monster. As I got older, I began to understand more and more about the man I have few memories about. My guess, and this is just a guess, is that it was hard for him when he found out that Jade wasn't his biological daughter. He'd known that my mother was a cheating whore, but I don't think he realized how far her treachery went. How deep she'd already dug his grave. I hate that woman. “My therapist,” I begin and realize that I haven't gone in weeks. Not since … I flick my eyes back up to Ty's. “My therapist thinks I have 'daddy' issues and that's why I sleep around, that I'm looking for a strong, masculine figure.” Ty laughs.

  “What a load of bullshit,” he says. “I fucking hate therapists.” I smile at him, but it's a weak smile, all tangled up with shadowy memories. I agree with him, though. The kind of boys I seek out are not at all the type of man that my father was. At least, I don't think so. I sigh, and it comes out sounding tired and broken. I don't like that at all. I shake my head to clear it. I wish I had picture perfect memories of my father, images of him smiling, the sound of his voice, the strength of his laugh, but I don't. I barely remember him at all as a person. Facts, facts I remember, but memories … I don't have many of those. “Why do you hate him?” Ty asks me, and I shake my head.

  “We're getting too deep into my story,” I tell him honestly. Once I start down this path, I won't be able to stop, I'm going to have to sit with the story of my life like a bad movie. I can only wonder, how is it going to end?

  22

  Ty and I are the first ones to arrive at the meeting.

  The group leader is there, of course, but none of the other participants. My heart is in my throat, and I'm so tongue-tied that I let Ty introduce me.

  “My name is Ty McCabe and this is my best friend, Never Ross,” he tells the woman with skin like cocoa powder and eyes like emeralds. She's beautiful and powerful and so in control of herself that I'm mesmerized, by her and by Ty's words.

  Best friend?

  Have I ever had one of those? Do I want one? Best friend is really just a fancy word for someone that has their hand wrapped around your heart. Best Friends Are the Soul Mates You Don't Sleep With. Lacey has this plaque over her bed. I avoid looking at it because it's painted in pink on a cheery, white china backdrop. It hangs crookedly from a bit of twine. I always thought that in some strange way, it was put there by the universe to mock my pain. Yet here Ty is telling this woman with the steady hands, the confident smile, that I'm his. His best friend.

  I look away from them both, unsure how to handle this situation. It's been a long time since I was so vested in something that I was actually afraid about how it would turn out.

  The building around us is old and crumbly but pre
tty. Or it was once. Like many things, time has shredded it of its original beauty, covered up old details with layers of poorly applied paint, took what was once something grand, a mansion maybe or a boutique, and now here it is serving as a community center for this half of the city. I hear a basketball echoing from somewhere in the back of the building and smile.

  And the downtrodden found refuge in dilapidation; and they were happy there because it was theirs and no one else's; bare of pretense and expectations, this place became a haven of solace and a sanctum for peace.

  The poem that pops into my head is called For Them The Wheel Turned and it's by my favorite poet of all time, a one, Noah Scott. It suits this place so perfectly that I get this intense urge to chisel it into the wall of stone across from me. I don't think anyone would mind; there are already murals galore there, layered on top of one another, overlapping from the cement floor to the soaring heights of the ceiling. It's a massive wash of color that humbles at the same time it inspires. Impressive.

  “My name is Vanessa Pickett,” says the woman with the emerald eyes. She takes Ty's hand and shakes it firmly. When she sees me scoping out the wall of murals, she turns and looks at it, too, like she's seeing it for the first time, eyes darting along the stories pictured there. “It's pretty, isn't it?” she asks as I drop my gaze to her face. As if she can feel my eyes on her, she turns and looks straight at me. “What do you think of it, Miss Ross?” I shrug my shoulders and go for a cigarette. It's that or gum, anything that gives me an excuse not to talk, and I think I could use the nicotine right about now. Vanessa doesn't stop me. This room already smells like smoke anyway, and most of the windows are either broken or look rusted and seem to be stuck open.