“Sorry,” he said. “I think the temperature must have dropped. A lot. Patch of ice.”
We were coming up Mass Ave now, close to campus. This definitely looked like a Nor’easter, dumping snow and ice very fast now. It was two or three inches deep already and getting deeper by the minute. Crank was wrestling with the wheel, overcompensating, which was making the car slide way too much for comfort.
“I thought Boston drivers were supposed to be all that,” I said.
He looked over at me with a fierce grin on his face. “I’ve been taking the T all my life. Practically just got my license.”
“Please don’t get me killed.”
He laughed. “I’ll try not to. We’re almost to the campus, which way?”
I peered ahead. The snow was coming down thick enough it was hard to see very far. “Past the campus. Keep going, it’s about five blocks up, then take a left.”
He nodded, concentrating on driving, both hands on the wheel and leaning forward to see.
“Slow down,” I said, as we got closer.
He glanced at me, simultaneously looking amused and annoyed I was being bossy. Screw him. I wanted to live. A moment later, he slowly turned off of Massachusetts Ave just as a city bus went racing past, splattering Crank’s car with snow and slush. Yuck.
“That’s just wrong,” he muttered as the bus blasted past.
“See the lot up there on the left?” I asked, pointing.
“Yeah.”
“Park in there.”
“If I park, I’m not getting out of there again.”
“You can’t drive any more in this … especially not all the way to Roxbury.”
“Is this a private lot?”
“I’ve got a guest pass in my car.”
He nodded. “All right.”
Very slowly, he turned into the lot. I could feel the car sliding again as he took the turn, but the wheels got a grip again, and we surged forward, into another slide.
“Crap,” he muttered.
“Stop,” I said.
“Trying!” he said, his voice raised.
“Stop!” I yelled.
The car just kept going, sliding forward, the tail end of my car looming in front of us, bigger and bigger, a slow-motion slide.
He yanked the wheel over to the side, trying to divert us, but it was too late. With a sickening crash that lurched us both forward against our seatbelts, he crashed into the rear end of my car.
We stopped.
I slumped back in my seat and closed my eyes. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.
“I can’t look,” I said.
“It’s bad,” he replied.
“We’re still alive,” I said hopefully.
I opened one eye. The back of my car and the front of Crank’s were hopelessly crumpled. Steam was rising in a great cloud from the front of his car. Radiator must have ruptured.
“Oh, God,” I said.
“You know,” he said, just a little bit of mischief in his voice. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
I broke into laughter. Hysterical laughter, actually. With tears running down my cheeks. He grinned, apparently happy that I wasn’t screaming at him.
We both opened our doors at the same time, and a blast of cold air hit me, freezing the tears onto my cheeks instantly. The temperature had dropped a lot since we’d left the beach. My laughter evaporated, and my heart sank, as I looked at the extent of the damage. The entire back end of my car was … crushed. The front of Crank’s was only marginally better.
“That’s not good,” he said.
“I guess I deserve it for wrecking your other car.”
He snickered.
“Stop laughing, it’s not funny,” I said. But his face was so bemused, that I couldn’t help but laugh myself. “Oh, God,” I said, groaning. “My parents are going to kill me.”
For some reason, he thought that was even funnier, and he leaned on his car and let out a giant belly laugh. After a few moments, he got himself together. “Should we call anyone?”
I shook my head. “Leave it … you’re not blocking the other spots. We’ll sort it out tomorrow. It’s too late, and wet and cold right now.”
He nodded. “All right,” he said. “I guess I’d better get over to the T.”
Impulsively, I said, “Come on. Not in this. I’m in Cabot Hall, right over there.”
“Won’t you get in trouble having a guy in your room?”
“Not really. Not that anyone would notice, anyway.”
He shrugged, and we trudged through the snow toward Cabot. He stopped for a minute, turning away from the wind and cupping his hand at his mouth to shield his lighter from the wind and light a cigarette. Then he turned his face up toward the snow and ice, a grin on his face. “I love storms,” he said.
“Come on,” I said. “I’m freezing. And … to be clear … this is not an invitation.”
He grinned and said, “It sounded like you were asking me up to your room.”
“I am. But I’m not … damn it.”
He laughed. “I’ll be nice.”
“Seriously.”
He nodded. “I get it, all right? No touching, kissing, groping, snogging, shagging. None of it.”
He was ridiculous.
The Quad was covered in snow, and scattered with students playing and having snowball fights. It was getting late, but not late enough to put them to bed yet. I narrowly avoided a flying snowball.
“Looks like fun,” Crank said, eyeing me.
I shook my head. “I don’t like snow, I told you that.”
He gave a dramatic sigh, and we kept walking toward the front steps, finally stopping at the door and kicking the snow off our feet. My feet felt like blocks of ice inside my boots, and I couldn’t stop shivering.
“Raw out there,” he said.
I nodded, still trying to get some blood circulation back into my feet. I scanned the large ground floor common room. There were a few students in here, people I knew, but not well. “Come on,” I said, leading him across the hall to the stairs. It’s not that I didn’t want people to see us going upstairs together.
Okay, that’s not true. I didn’t want people to see us going upstairs together. I didn’t want to be the object of gossip or discussion. My life was nobody’s business. If I wanted to take Crank onto the roof and give him a blow job in the snow, that was my business, not theirs. But that’s not the way things worked in my life … never had been.
I led him to the back stairs, then up six flights of stairs and down the hall to the suite.
And, of course, this would be the first Saturday ever that Linden and Adriana and Jemi were all still in the room. And from the looks of the casual clothes and pajamas, they weren’t planning on going anywhere. The three of them were all curled up in chairs around the coffee table, drinking hot chocolate and playing cards.
Of course, my entry with a guy wasn’t going to go unnoticed. My entrance with Crank Wilson, who they all knew, both from his band and his reputation—that was something else entirely.
Adriana jerked up straight in her seat, practically shoving her boobs on display. Linden’s eyes opened wide, and Jemi just slightly raised on eyebrow.
“Um … hey,” I said, suddenly very uncomfortable. “Um … Crank … this is Linden, and Adriana, and Jemi. My suitemates. Guys, this is my friend, Crank.”
“What’s doin’?” Crank said, nodding at them. As usual, he had a smirk on his face, which I wanted nothing more than to punch right at that moment.
The girls burst into speech, and I let it float by. It was all nonsense anyway.
“So, um …” I said, having no idea where to go with this. “We’re off to bed.”
Crank winked at them. I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward my room, and as I closed the door, I heard a flurry of whispers. God only knows what they were saying. I sure didn’t want to know.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Never trust again (Crank)
&nbs
p; Julia didn’t say a word as she pulled me into her room. She let go of my hand, shut the door, and then shrugged out of her coat.
Her room was big for a dorm, about ten feet to a side, with a large window overlooking the Quad. Outside, I could still see college students playing in the snow. She had a decent sized desk with her PowerBook on it, papers stacked high next to the laptop. A long, low bookshelf extended the entire length of the wall underneath the window. Except for the desk and the bookshelf, the room was sterile. Nothing on the walls. No pictures. It looked like she was ready to move out tomorrow. Weird.
The shelves were interesting, though. Textbooks, and what looked to be primarily fantasy and sci-fi novels. Never been my thing, but I recognized a bunch of them. Sean had a lot of the same books. Which got me to thinking about her sitting in his room, and the discussion I’d overheard. I’d never heard him speak that way: openly.
“You never said where you got Sean’s gift,” I said. “Do you read that stuff?”
“Manga?” she asked. “No. But I know a guy on the second floor who’s nuts for it. He took me to a shop over in Somerville to help me pick something out.”
“I know the place. Sean makes me take him there sometimes. It was … it was a nice gift. Really thoughtful.”
She sat down in a big, overstuffed chair and started unlacing her boots. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing or not.”
“You couldn’t have picked anything better … but, can I ask you a question?”
She shrugged and went back to unlacing the boots. “Sure.”
“I’ve never seen anyone connect with my brother so quickly. How?”
“I just treated him like a person.”
That was useless, and I answered defensively. “You’re saying I don’t?”
She shook her head slowly, setting her boots down next to the chair. She had tiny little feet. “No, I’m not saying that. But … no offense, but you and your mom and dad? You seem like you’re so wrapped up in his Asperger’s that you can’t see anything else.”
I exhaled, suddenly, and slumped into the chair at her desk. She was right. We were all wrapped up in his Asperger’s, and it hurt to hear him saying he wished Mom could love him for who he is. Because we all had that problem.
“You think that’s part of his problem?”
“I don’t know, Crank. But … it can’t be easy to have that much pressure on you, all the time. That’s how I live sometimes, and it sucks.”
I sighed and looked out the window. The snow was still coming down hard. “I don’t get how you see it so clearly. And obviously you do, since it worked.”
She shook her head. “I’m good at watching people. But listen … it’s been … an incredibly long night. And … I need to go to sleep. Okay? Do you mind?”
“That’s fine,” I said.
She stared at me a moment, then said, “I know this is awkward. But I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. Just … keep your hands to yourself, all right?”
“Why do you feel like you need to repeat that?”
“Why do you grope half the women you see?”
“Because it’s fun,” I replied. Then I winked at her. Because I’ve got zero frickin’ self control, and I knew it would irritate her.
She rolled her eyes, opened her dresser and pulled out some clothes. “I’m going to change into pajamas. I’ll be back.”
Without another word, she walked out of the room.
I hung my jacket on the back of the desk chair and pulled my own boots off. Dungarees on or off? I opted for off. I’ve got boxers. Screw it. I did keep the t-shirt on. Whatever. I threw the blanket back and climbed onto her bed, facing the window. This was as awkward and uncomfortable a night as I’d had in years. And normally, I was a winner with all things awkward and uncomfortable. Thing was … it mattered to me. It mattered to get this right. It mattered that I not put her off, that I not poke a hole in whatever limited trust we were developing. Somehow, I had to convince her to trust me. And if it took me lying here with blue balls all night long because I couldn’t touch her, then that’s what it took.
But I didn’t have to like it.
I heard her voice, outside the door. She was saying something to the other girls, I don’t know what. Didn’t matter. I’m sure her suitemates were all nice, but they also weren’t that interesting to me. God knows what they were asking her, or what they assumed. I wished their assumptions were right. I felt bummed out, and kept my eyes on the window, watching the snowfall. Wishing for … something.
The door opened, and I could see her reflection in the window as she entered the room and closed the door. I kept looking out the window, on my side. She paused then switched out the light, and I heard her light footsteps approaching the bed. Then the mattress moved as she slipped under the blanket next to me. My whole body tensed. I could feel her there. Inches away. I desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, feel her skin. I shifted and lay flat on my back. The faint light coming in from the Quad reflected off the ceiling, a cloud of shadow snowflakes moving across the room toward the window.
I looked toward Julia, trying to do it without her noticing. She was also flat on her back, hands clasped on her stomach, blanket pulled all the way up. Her eyes were open, tracking the shadow snowflakes.
Whatever it was that snow reminded her of, I didn’t know. But her expression was … beyond unhappy. Her body was rigid, her face frozen, eyes wide and tearing up. But what was the right thing to do? I wanted to take her in my arms, tell her it was going to be okay, tell her that whatever had happened in the past, she didn’t have to let it define who she was now. That she was safe. I reached out, and very slowly wiped one of her tears with my thumb.
She flinched.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You just looked so sad.”
“I turned fourteen about two weeks before I met him,” she said. It seemed sudden, and I held my breath, willing her to continue. She did. “I still had … Barbie dolls and stuffed animals. I was young for that age, emotionally. I had … posters all over my room of singers and actors. My parents had this big party for me, and all the embassy kids came. I didn’t know any of them yet … we’d just arrived in Beijing. That’s where I met Lana. At the party. She ended up becoming my best friend.”
I kept my mouth shut. Better not to say anything at all, than say the wrong thing. I wanted her to trust me. But I couldn’t push. This had to be her.
“So on the first day of school, I was with Lana. And we were standing in line in the dining hall, and this guy approached. He was gorgeous. His name was Harry. Harry Easton. He was tall and played rugby, and he walked right up to me and stared at me, and he said, ‘Who’s your friend, Lana?’ And he didn’t take his eyes off me. It was overpowering. Who was this amazing guy, and why was he looking at me?”
She stayed rigid, unmoving, but I saw her Adam’s apple move as she swallowed, and then spoke again. “So … I fell in love with him. I snuck out of our flat and I’d meet him in the middle of the night, wherever he said. He took me to these amazing dinners at restaurants in Beijing. He took me to the Silk Market, and the Forbidden City, to the Panda House, really all the amazing things in the city. I couldn’t be around him without melting. But it was all so confusing. I loved him … I was … consumed by him.”
She paused, and another tear slowly ran out of the corner of her eye, down the side of her face toward her ear.
“I wasn’t ready to have sex yet. Not even close. I was still just a little girl. But he wanted it, and he just … took. The first time scared me so much, I was just … paralyzed. I didn’t move, I didn’t say anything. I was so afraid. I was afraid he’d hate me if I said no. I was afraid of … everything.”
“After that, it was like … I didn’t have any control over my own life. He’d get mad if I hung out with Lana without him. He’d get mad if I even talked with a guy my age. It was like he was trying to isolate me from everything. And my parents: they were so busy, so wra
pped up in themselves, they didn’t notice what was happening. My sister Carrie was nine then, and Alexandra four. It was too much for my mother. She couldn’t pay attention to her high schooler. I was invisible.”
She fell into silence then, her eyes still tracking the shadow snowflakes, which, if anything, had increased in intensity. I remembered that—feeling invisible. Feeling desperate. I remembered that all too well.
“When I got pregnant, I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t even sure that’s what it was. I missed my period once, then a second time. I was sick, constantly. And so he got a home pregnancy test, and brought it to me, and it came up positive. Harry didn’t even ask what I wanted to do about it. He just … assumed. Two days later, he showed up at the flat and practically ordered me out. We took a cab a long way—Beijing is a huge city, much bigger than Boston, or even New York. There are whole huge districts where no one speaks English. I don’t know how he got the address for the place. Some fixer at the British embassy, who would do whatever it took to avoid a scandal. And … it would have been a scandal. He turned nineteen that fall, and I had just turned fourteen. There’s a lot of places in the States where you could wind up in jail for that.”
Suddenly she moved, turned toward me, curled up on her side. And she kept talking, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “The doctor and the nurses, they didn’t speak English. They made me lie down and gave me a shot. And then I felt it. Inside … cramping, a little bit of pain. Then a lot. I didn’t even really understand what was happening. They were … using suction. Sucking my baby out of me.”
She closed her eyes and began to shudder. I reached out, put a hand on her shoulder, and she whispered in a vicious hiss, “Don’t touch me. You promised.”
Shaken, I pulled my hand back.
“Let me finish,” she said.
I nodded, and she continued.
“When it was over, they packed me with gauze and basically shoved me out the door. And … Harry was gone. I don’t know why. I never did learn why he left … why he couldn’t even be bothered to take me home. I didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t speak the language at all back then, and no one spoke English in the neighborhood I was in. It started to snow, and I just walked. I could … I could feel … blood running down my leg. And as I walked, people just backed away from me. They saw an American kid walking through the street, and they didn’t want to get involved. I started crying, I was so scared, but no one would help. I just kept walking and walking. It was so cold. And all I could think was—I wanted my mother. I wanted to find her, and hug her, and make all of this fear and pain and cold go away. I wanted to go back to being her little girl, and having her protect me and make everything better.”
Kiss Kiss Page 181