The Broken Road to Forever

by Rhonda Dennis

  EIGHT

  My body is angled in a way that we can’t see each other as we dress in silence. If the same emotional pain I’m feeling is reflected back to me in his face, nothing will stop the tears from breaking free. I need to remain strong.

  “Mallory.” I flinch at his gentle touch to my shoulder.

  “Yeah?” My words are mumbled as I slip the jersey back over my head.

  “Mallory,” he repeats while tugging on my arm. Pushing away, I refuse to meet his gaze. “You said you wouldn’t have regrets, but it’s obvious you do. I knew I shouldn’t have…”

  I spin to tightly wrap my arms around him, stunning him when I plow my head against his chest. “I don’t regret any of it. That was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  After letting out a sigh of relief, Brent closes his arms around me, and he places a kiss to the top of my head. “Me, too.” Wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of us wants the moment to end.

  “Something that incredible is meant to be, and I feel it to my core. We’re made for each other, Brent. I’ll wait for you as long as it takes,” I mumble into his solid chest, and I feel his breath catch.

  “I hope you will, but I don’t expect you to do that for me.”

  I gain the courage to look at him, and I’m met with sad eyes. I offer a meager smile to reassure him. He places his hands on either side of my face, then brings his lips to linger upon mine. The kiss is tender and genuine, and I fear it will be the last one we will share for a very long time. The wait will be pure torture.

  As much as my heart will hurt when I walk out the door, it’s exactly what I need to do. “I better get going.” I start to pull at Brent’s jersey.

  “No.” He tugs my arm from the hem. “Keep it.” He shrugs. “Something to remember me by.”

  “Jersey or not, you know I can’t forget you, right?” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

  Brent steps closer and drops his forehead to mine after breathing out a long sigh. “I hate this.”

  “Me, too. It sucks.”

  Brent gives a half smile. “Yes, it does.” His face grows somber again. “Let me walk you back to your dorm.”

  I step back, shaking my head. “I’ll be fine. Promise.” Scooping up the stinking rat suit, I shift it around in my arms.

  “Please, let me help you, Mallory.”

  “No, Brent. I’m used to doing things on my own.”

  “Don’t say it like that.” His voice is quiet and low. A tear escapes, and I’m angry because I can’t wipe it away.

  “We both know it’s the truth.” I step back. “I’m grateful that I will always have this night.” Another tear falls.

  “Mallory, this isn’t the end, so don’t talk like it is.”

  I shake my head. “I hope it isn’t, but let’s be real about it. We don’t know what the future holds.” Brent says nothing more as he watches me step out the door. “Bye, Brent.”

  Closing it behind me, I’m halfway down the corridor when I hear, “Fuck!” followed by a distinct pounding that I’m sure is Brent smashing a locker. The tears I struggled to hold in now fall freely, and I begin running but don’t get very far. Left breathless and still clinging to the stupid rat suit, I begin the long, slow walk across campus back to my dorm.

  Iris’ concerned face causes the tears to flow freely again. “Mallory, are you hurt? Are you okay? What the hell happened?” She stops in front of me. “Your face is all puffy, and these tears—you’re not a crier.”

  “No, I’m not hurt. Not physically, anyway.” My response is shrill.

  Iris’ eyes nearly bug out of her head. “Oh shit, it was the nutria, wasn’t it? The pressure made you snap mentally. Did they boo you? Attack you? Force you to do bad things? Do you need therapy?” With everything that happened after the game I had completely forgotten how the bizarre evening started out. Dropping the rodent costume, I slump to the floor beside it.

  “No, it’s not Nigel!” I fall on top of the suit, smell be damned, where I sob into the sticky fur.

  “Oh no, I broke my best friend!” Iris lands on top of me, and it snaps me out of my hysteria.

  “Get off; you’re squashing me, not helping me.”

  “Sorry.” Iris climbs off and sits to my side, where she tugs at her lower lip while closely examining me.

  “Oh my god!” She pulls at my arm to see my back. “You’re not only wearing a football jersey, but it’s Brent’s jersey! Spill. Now!” Iris sits back and crosses her arms. She’s the only other person who knows about my feelings for Brent. Not long after moving in together, she loosened my lips with the help from her secret stash of tequila, and thankfully, she’s kept the secret.

  “It’s nothing,” I mumble, falling back onto the giant rodent.

  “You know what a time like this calls for?” Iris jumps up.

  “Umm…nothing. How’s Tim?”

  “He’s fine; we went to the emergency room. It’s just a bad sprain.” Iris crosses the small space and dives under her bed. I know exactly what she’s doing when I hear the clinking. “I took him back to his dorm. He’s good.” She shuffles out from under the tight space with two shot glasses in one hand and the bottle of tequila in the other. She wears a mischievous smile. “My secret stash!”

  “Iris, the whole dorm is aware of your secret stash. It’s not so secret. You know that, right?”

  “It’s made me lots and lots of friends.” She waggles the bottle.

  The image of my best friend standing before me with a cheesy smile makes me grin. Her red hair is disheveled, her pajamas feature cats, and her ensemble is topped off with fluffy pink slippers. Iris has a style all of her own, and I love her for it. She makes no excuses for who she is, and I’m so thankful to have her in my life after so many years of feeling alone.

  Iris sits down cross-legged and pours our shots. “I researched tequila and found some very interesting things about this amazing drink.”

  “You research everything.” I laugh. “It’s just a drink, Iris. There’s nothing amazing about it. Although the hangover it gave me last time was pretty spectacular.” I snort at the humor of my own joke, but it doesn’t seem to amuse Iris as much as it does me.

  She ignores my comment while sliding a shot glass in my direction, then picks up her own. “Did you know that tequila can be made into diamonds?” She downs her shot. “That’s pretty fucking amazing.” Her grin is huge.

  “I guess that’s sort of amazing,” I say, bringing the drink up to my lips and downing it. I blow out a breath and bask in the burn as it slides down my throat. “Again!” I request, feeling better already.

  “Oh shit, something really bad happened with Nigel. I can tell. You never want two shots back to back. Please, tell me what the hell happened, Mallory.”

  “It’s not Nigel. Although, it’s safe to say that Tim’s not getting another chance at that gig.”

  She winces. “He’ll get over it. I’m so sorry I made you dress as a rodent. We just panicked.”

  “It’s okay. I imagine the footage of me squashing a cheerleader will be pretty funny to watch.”

  “What! Which one?”

  “The blonde one.”

  “They’re all blonde, Mallory.” We burst out laughing and down our next shot. Holding the glass out, I demand, “Another.”

  Iris’ hand covers the glass. “Mallory, this is so unlike you, and I’m worried. Please, tell me what’s upset you so much.”

  Sighing I look down at the floor. “I ran into Brent after the game.”

  “I kind of figured that being that you’re wearing his jersey. And…,” she encourages.

  “Things were going really good until his dad turned up. Iris, that man is evil incarnate, I swear. He said awful things, but luckily he wasn’t there long.” I hold back about how violent his dad is out of respect for Brent. I know he wouldn’t want people to know, even though I trust Iris wouldn’t spread any gossip. “He’d upset us both, and we were comforting each oth
er when…” My words trail off. Tears well in my eyes when I think about the way his touch makes me feel.

  The memory is short lived because I’m suddenly thrown off balance by Iris’ bear hug. “Struggling to breathe here.”

  She releases me. “Sorry, you know I get all awkward and dorky when people cry, especially you.”

  I nod, giving her a sad smile. “Please, pour me one more.” Her brows are furrowed, but she complies, and I toss it back. Best to just say it. “Brent and I had sex.” I sigh, placing my glass on the floor. Looking at my friend, I know she’s about to combust because she has no clue how to respond. Her expression is one of excited shock, then concern, then something that looks like constipation, maybe? She bites on her lips, and the way her body shakes, I can tell she’s desperately trying to figure out what to say. “Iris?”

  She launches upright, her hair bobbing around her face as she jumps around. “You and Brent had…”

  “Iris!” Thanks to the tequila shots, I’m unable to rise up from the floor as quickly as I want, so I grab at her ankles instead. “Shush, the walls are paper-thin, remember.”

  “Oh shit, sorry.” Now she whispers, squatting beside me. “Let’s have a shot to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate?” I repeat. “What’s to celebrate?”

  “Oh, no.” She pushes her fingers to her mouth. “It was bad. That’s why you were crying when you came home.”

  I shake my head. “No. It was beautiful and amazing and a million other positive adjectives.”

  The glass is thrust into my hand. “So, your cherry was finally popped, and it was by Brent, the star football hunk. He’s so hot.” I down the shot and sit back on the floor as Iris lists all his admirable attributes. “You’re so lucky.”

  “Lucky!” I shriek. “How the hell am I lucky?”

  “I’m not even sure my first time was actually my first time! I never felt a thing.” I look at her, shocked by her admission. Her nodding and glum expression have me bursting out with laughter.

  When I compose myself, I pour us the last of the tequila. “I think I love him.”

  “You’ve always loved him. That’s nothing new.” She shrugs. “Now you can be together.”

  “No, Iris, we can’t. Not yet anyway. His dad dictates what Brent does all the way down to who he dates. He doesn’t approve of someone like me.”

  “You’re the sweetest, most caring person I know! What do you mean ‘someone like you?’” She looks angry.

  “He doesn’t deem me suitable for his son.”

  “What! He obviously doesn’t know you. He’s an ass.”

  “I agree, and so does Brent, but he’s bound by his dad’s rules. He says we can be together once he graduates from law school, but that’s years away. So much can happen between now and then.”

  Iris picks up the empty bottle to look inside before giving it a shake. “Damn it, I think we need some more.”

  “I think I’ve had enough.”

  “Maybe we both have. You’re a little fuzzy looking to me.” I love her; only Iris could make me smile when I’m at my worst. “Come on, let’s watch Dirty Dancing. That always cheers you up.” I shrug while climbing onto her bed. Iris’ heart is in the right place, but not even Patrick Swayze can take away this pain. The only man who can is off limits. Life is so unfair.

  ***

  Iris is an amazing friend to me. We spend the whole weekend hiding away, watching nearly every romantic comedy ever made. Each film ends with the main character landing the man of her dreams, and it just intensifies the pain of my broken heart. I don’t tell Iris; she is only trying to help. Monday morning rolls around, and I’m not feeling much better.

  “Come on. We better get going,” Iris says, picking up her bag. I follow her out the door, and once out in the open, she links arms with me as we walk in silence.

  Just before we reach the student union, Iris sees Tim struggling with his crutches.

  “Hiya, handsome. Need some help?” she calls, practically skipping to him.

  “Thank goodness you’re here.” His backpack hits the ground just as we arrive, so I stoop to pick it up. Once he’s sure it’s in good hands, he leans down to give Iris a kiss. Typically, I would have laughed because he looks like a giraffe trying to get a piece of food from the ground.

  “Not now,” Iris says, pushing him away.

  “But I need to taste those sweet cherry lips.”

  “Cool it, Romeo.” She repeatedly cocks her head in my direction.

  “Mal’s seen us do more than kiss.”

  Iris pops him in the chest, and he howls. “Don’t ever say something like that again in public. People will get the wrong impression,” she says through clenched teeth.

  “What? You don’t want people to know that Mallory likes to watch?” he yells out loud.

  “Would you stop?” she says, mouthing an apology to me. I simply shrug and take off ahead of them, not sticking around to watch her help him up the steps. I stop dead in my tracks when I notice Brent with Nate and some other guys from the football team. They’re laughing at something Nate says when Brent finally notices me. His smile disappears as we stare at each other. He brings his hand up to give me our special signal. Choking back the tears, I return the gesture before dropping Tim’s backpack on the closest table and making a dash for the first unlocked door I can find.

  Stooped over while trying to catch my breath, I finally lift my gaze from the floor to see what is making all the racket in the room. It’s a huge ice machine dumping a load into the hopper; I’m in one of the concession supply rooms. One wall is filled with racks of cups, lids, and other supplies, while the other is stacked with silver soda syrup canisters. I fall to my knees, and debate skipping class to stay curled into a ball in the tiny room. Resting my head against the ice machine, I try desperately to get a grip. I can’t very well go through life in this state; I have to find the strength to accept what’s happened and move on from it.

  I open my eyes to see Brent kneeling in front of me. I’m startled, but it only lasts a second because his lips crush down upon mine, and I’m lost in his touch. His kiss is passionate, then slow and lingering until he finally pulls away. I run my fingers up to touch my swollen lips.

  “We aren’t supposed to…,” I mumble.

  “No, we aren’t, but I can’t let a chance go by when it’s right there.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about the other night,” I confess.

  “I can’t either,” he says with a smile. I stand up, brushing away at my knees.

  “I should go.”

  He clasps my wrist with his hand. “You looked terrible when I saw you. I need to know that you’re okay.”

  “What would you do if I weren’t?”

  The look on his face is pained, and I realize it’s unfair of me to heap that worry upon him. “I’m okay. I’m sad and angry about the injustice of it all, but I’m okay. Please, don’t worry about me.”

  He touches my cheek. “My sweet, Triple P. I can’t wait for the day that you’ll be mine.”

  “I’m already yours. I long for the day we can finally make it official.”

  “Me, too.” He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For the other night. For always knowing what to say. And for making my life worth living.”

  I look down to the floor. “You’d be fine without me, Brent.”

  “I don’t want to be without you.”

  “I know that. We have to be careful though. You can’t keep ducking into closets with me, especially in places like the student union. What if someone sees us and tells your father? He’ll do his best to destroy you, and I won’t let that happen because of me. Just keep giving me our sign, and it’ll be enough.”

  “Mal…” I touch my fingers to his lips to silence him.

  “It’ll be enough.” I offer a reassuring smile, and he pulls me tightly against him.

  “I love you, Mallory,” he whispe
rs into my ear before giving me a tight squeeze, then leaving me alone in the closet. Hearing those words fills my heart and soul with the strength I need to carry on. Our relationship will be a marathon run, not a sprint, and I can’t spend all of my time being miserable. I need to focus on the big picture, the life that awaits us down the line. Taking a deep breath, I compose myself. I’ve been upset too long. Plastering a smile on my face, I dare to allow myself to picture a wedding, and it’s incredible. It’s going to happen one day. I just know it.

  NINE

  Senior Year 1999

  Bayou Cypress University

  The rise to the top is a quick one for Brent and Nate. The duo regularly makes the headlines thanks to their proficiency on the football field. They’ve caught the eye of quite a few professional teams, and the fame and notoriety that accompanies their time in the spotlight not only overshadows those of us who wallow in the monotony of classes and studying, but also steals the all too rare moments Brent and I once shared. It’s been ages since I’ve actually been within shouting distance of Brent, so there have been no chance encounters, no stolen kisses, and definitely no passionate trysts. Even though I see him almost daily, it’s always from afar, and I miss him terribly.

  It hurts to see him, arms entwined with a new woman nearly every day, but I know it’s all just a show for his father’s sake. His face shows happiness, but his eyes tell the real story. Brent used to not bother with feigning happiness, but the funny thing about his increasing fame is that his father’s visibility on campus rises proportionately with the surge. The man is ALWAYS around him, whispering in his ear. He never misses a photo op, a press conference, a game… I long to go back to our freshman year, to that night that Brent and I shared in the old equipment room, and do things differently. I’d like to think I’d stand up for myself this time, damned the consequences. Anyone who doesn’t feel remorse for imprisoning his child in a world he resents for purely selfish reasons deserves far more than an ass-chewing. Maybe a baseball bat or cast iron skillet would be more fitting for a confrontation with Brent’s father? Who am I kidding? I’m far from violent and would undoubtedly chicken out before any actual physical altercation.