The Fall of January Cooper

by Audrey Bell

  I laughed. Aunt Lynda had been saying that for a long time, and my father had never liked her, but maybe she saw that he was a cheat earlier on.

  “Is she okay?” I ventured. “My mom?”

  “She drank all my vodka,” Lynda said, harrumphing. “But she does that every time she comes to visit. Usually, not this fast. Now she’s starting in on the Chardonnay. Can’t blame her, I suppose.”

  “Yeah. It sucks. It really sucks.”

  “Honey, how on earth are you supporting yourself out there?”

  “I got a job.”

  “A job?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’m bartending. Near campus.”

  “Well, good for you, baby. And nobody’s given you any trouble?”

  I nodded, thinking of the man lunging at me across the bar last night. Thinking of Christian holding my wrist just tightly enough so that I wouldn’t move. Thinking of how nice he was to me, when the person who had really been hurt, the angry man across the bar who had lost his life’s savings, was thrown out of the bar like he was the criminal.

  “January?” Lynda said.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. No trouble.”

  She nodded. “Well, I thought you ought to come home for Thanksgiving. See your Momma and that bastard of a father, before they ship him off to prison. Your mom won’t get a job, so I can get your ticket. What do you say?”

  “I-I would really like to come home. If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Well, baby, I’ll do that right now. You just look at some flights and tell me what works for your schedule? Okay?”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  She started talking about her cat, Fritz, and about how my mother was being completely spastic over the lack of nail salons near her house, and I could tell from her voice that she loved my mother, even when she was being intolerable.

  I walked across campus listening to her thick drawl, and imagining how my mother grew up, with Lynda, in a trailer park. How they both scraped their way out of there. Lynda went to cosmetology school and opened a hair salon. My mother got a waitressing job and met a handsome young investor.

  And for years my mother had thought her good luck in her husband had elevated her above Lynda. But it never had. Not really.

  “You’ll be okay, baby,” Lynda told me. “And if you need anything, honey, let me know. I’m not swimming in cash, but I’ve got savings.”

  “Okay,” I said. I felt endlessly grateful to her. “Thank you so much for calling.”

  “Hey, you know I love you to pieces, January. Call me whenever you want.”

  “I will.”

  I reached my dorm door, which was locked, which meant Katelyn was gone, finally, and I could browse for cheap flights back to Dallas without her asking me annoying questions.

  I fiddled with the keys and opened the door.

  And my eyes immediately began to burn with the fucking blinding horror of my living situation.

  Katelyn was on her knees, blowing my ex-boyfriend.

  I stifled a screech and choked down my breath. I couldn’t decide if I should scream or vomit.

  "Oh my god, January, haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Katelyn said, once her mouth was unoccupied.

  Schuyler zipped up his pants rapidly.

  "You seriously were giving him a blow job while he watched SpongeBob?" I demanded, looking at the TV. "What is wrong with you? Both of you! That’s…disturbing.”

  Katelyn wiped her mouth.

  I gagged a little.

  "You need to knock," she said, looking flustered.

  "Why? It's not like I'm going to catch you sleeping with my boyfriend again. I'm single." I looked at Schuyler, who looked stoned and also fatter than when I'd dated him. "Also, I don't need to do shit. This is my room. Don't perform fellatio in my room if you don't want me to see it." I gave her my most practiced judgmental stare. "Don't you ever have class?"

  "I'm working on my thesis," they both said.

  "Neither of you are writing a thesis.”

  "It's on anthropology,” Katelyn said. “I just decided.”

  "Wow. All of anthropology. That's ambitious. Crazy that every time I see you, you're watching cartoons," I sat down on my bed.

  "For someone whose father is headed to prison, you could be a little nicer."

  I grinned at Katelyn. "That doesn't make any sense. Criminals' daughters aren't supposed to be nice. Pediatricians' daughters are. And I'm being much nicer to you, as a criminal's daughter, than you were to me. I mean, I haven't slept with your boyfriend in your bed yet, have I?"

  Katelyn made a whining noise. "That is so unfair. We are obviously in love."

  "Whoa!" Schuyler said, jerking upright. He looked like he'd suddenly gotten a stomach flu. Maybe my case of nausea had been contagious. Then I remembered him telling me he was allergic to the L-word once.

  I looked at the shocked, circular O he made with his mouth and tried to remember what I'd ever seen in him. The opportunity to piss off my parents at the 4th of July barbeque, probably. I really thought they wouldn't like a communist stoner with a trust fund who thought monogamy was "totally twisted, man."

  I also must have had like a year-long concussion.

  "What, babe?" Katelyn said to Schuyler, running a hand through his hair.

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Baby, are you okay?" Katelyn repeated. "You look sick."

  "I have—I have to go to the library,” Schuyler said.

  "Before you graduate?" I asked. "Yeah, it's definitely worth seeing. It's the big building called Lamont that everyone knows about. You can't miss it. Well…you probably could, but just ask. Someone will point you in the right direction.

  "Yeah. Yeah," he nodded. "I need to check out some books."

  He hightailed it out of there, not bothering to see what happened at the end of the episode he was watching. That almost never happened. I turned my attention back to Katelyn.

  She was twisting her hair around one finger, nibbling on her lip like an anxious chipmunk. "Like, that was totally weird, right? Do you think he has the norovirus?"

  "Oh my god," I said.

  "What?"

  "Oh my god," I repeated, getting to my feet and grabbing my backpack.

  "What? Are you sick too? Do you have the norovirus?"

  "Do you have a head injury?" I demanded. “Seriously? Do you? He freaked out because you said you loved him. He hates that.”

  "What?" she looked like I’d slapped her.

  "I really didn’t think this living situation could get worse, but I was wrong." I sighed heavily.

  “How do you know he hates it?”

  “Katelyn, I cannot give you relationship advice about my ex-boyfriend!”

  “Please.”

  “He hates when girls say they’re in love with him. He doesn’t believe in love.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “Okay.” I held up my hands. “He told me he didn’t. Although, he also told me he wouldn’t cheat on me. So, who knows?”

  "We are in love. I wouldn't have slept with him if I could help it."

  I rolled my eyes. “Riiight.”

  "All you ever did was talk about how annoying he was."

  "Who cares?" I demanded. "He was my boyfriend. Saying he's annoying? That's allowed. You sleeping with him? Not allowed!"

  She burst into fake tears, crumpling face down on her bed and howling.

  "Are you seriously fake crying?" I demanded.

  For a brief second I thought I might have miscalculated and that she was actually crying, but then she tossed the pillow to the floor and glared at me, dry-eyed. "Shut up, January!"

  I held up my hands. "Everyone I know is a fucking mental patient." I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the room, really wishing I'd figured out a way to keep the off-campus apartment.

  I wish I had somewhere to go. Anywhere. Anywhere but here would be better.

  Christian

  Darrin decided I was in love with January because I
had stopped some middle-aged drunk from physically assaulting her. It was becoming a problem, because Darrin wasn’t exactly discreet.

  “You’re obviously into her,” Darrin said when he came over to work on a Spanish project. My father was working on a case, and wasn’t home, which was the only reason Darrin was around. He had caught Darrin smoking pot in high school and scared him so badly that Darrin had done everything in his power to avoid him ever since.

  “You went fucking caveman on that guy.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You’re in love with her.”

  “Fuck off or leave.”

  “Darrin, do you want to stay for dinner?” my mother called from the dining room.

  “You don’t want to stay for dinner,” I said. I was sure it would take him all of twenty minutes to let January’s name slip to my mother, in which case, the minor nuisance of denying I liked January to Darrin would become the major nuisance of denying that I was dating January to my mother.

  And I couldn’t tell my mother to fuck off. I’d be killed.

  “Sure, Mrs. C, I’d love to.”

  “If you say anything about January, I’ll never drive you to campus again,” I said. “And I’ll tell Kevin you don’t know how to make a martini.”

  “I do know how to make a martini.”

  “Don’t say anything to her.”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  My mother walked into the living room, where we were watching TV.

  “But you are in love with January Cooper,” he added.

  “Is that the nice girl who came over for your birthday?”

  “Ten seconds. It took you ten seconds,” I snapped at Darrin.

  “She was pretty,” my mother said. “How long have you been seeing her?”

  “I’m not seeing anybody.”

  My mother smiled broadly. “Well, I’m sure you’ll tell us when you’re ready.”

  “I’m not seeing Jan—”

  “No pressure. But, I think that’s really, really nice. You should have her over for dinner.”

  “I—”

  “Do you boys want popcorn?”

  “No,” I said.

  “That would be great,” said Darrin. I put Darrin in a chokehold when she left the room.

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Jesus. I didn’t know she was in the room. Get the fuck off of me.”

  I let him go and he flopped dramatically onto the floor.

  “You do like January.”

  “I don’t. Even if I did, it makes no sense,” I said.

  He shrugged. “It could make sense.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “And it’s getting fucking annoying, frankly, hearing you talk about it nonstop. So drop it.” I looked at him menacingly.

  “Well, let me set you up with Danielle’s cousin then.”

  I exhaled. “God, you’re relentless. No.”

  “Dude. This friendship has gotten super depressing. All we do is talk about work and jobs and your parents, who you live with. If you don’t stop being such a fucking loser, I’m going to have to find new friends.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine, I should find new friends or fine, I can set you up with Danielle’s cousin?”

  “You can find new friends.”

  He groaned. “But I don’t want new friends.”

  “Then shut the fuck up about January.”

  January

  I was sitting in my dorm room, waiting for Christian to come and pick me up for my shift when I got the email from Olivia.

  She’d also emailed three hundred other people. That’s the only reason that HALLOWEEN PARTY—DON’T FORGET

  A small PS at the bottom read If you’re feeling charitable, bring a $1 donation for January Cooper’s tuition fund! Remember, it’s her 22nd birthday!

  What the fucking fuck, Olivia.

  I hit reply.

  Olivia, this is not fucking funny. How would you feel if I told everyone you blew your TA so you could get a better grade in constitutional law?

  I stared at the computer screen for a second and then I hit send.

  I couldn’t believe she had sent that. To three hundred people. We were supposed to be friends. Even if she had decided we definitely weren’t friends, how could you ever send something like that to three hundred people?

  I felt like crying. Or getting drunk. I felt like drunk-crying.

  I imagined everyone I knew on campus opening the email and having a laugh at it. I turned off my computer, already regretting the angry reply I’d sent to Olivia. She would find it funny.

  She always found other people’s anger to be hilarious.

  My cheap phone vibrated.

  Christian: I’m outside

  I scowled. I didn’t have time to think about what Olivia thought of me—though the email made it clear she didn’t particularly give a shit about my feelings.

  I grabbed my bag and headed out the door, locking it behind me.

  I pulled on a hoodie as I walked down the stairs and to the waiting car and slammed the door.

  “What’s with you?” Christian asked.

  “Everything’s great.”

  “Riight.”

  “I mean, I hate all of my friends, but other than that, I’m good. I’m super.”

  Christian laughed.

  “I’m serious. Fucking Olivia—”

  “Your roommate?”

  “No. The one who wants to go to law school. She sent this email…”I took a breath. “It doesn’t matter, actually.”

  “Tell me.”

  “She sent this email out. She’s throwing a Halloween party,” I said. “My mom used to throw a party for me every year on Halloween. It’s my birthday. Obviously, that’s not happening this year. And Olivia sent this email out, saying to three hundred people that everyone should bring a dollar to donate to my charity fund as a birthday gift. I mean, she’s supposed to be my friend. Obviously, she’s not anymore. I don’t know why. Because I’m poor? But, does she really need to humiliate me in front of the whole school?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  I took a breath. “No, it’s fine.”

  “It’s a low blow.”

  “Which I should’ve expected.”

  He shook his head, regretfully. “January.”

  “I should,” I said vehemently. “Lives were ruined.” I looked out the window, already regretting what I’d written back. “I sent her a nasty email. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I looked over at him. His hair was starting to curl, just at the collar. I had an insane urge to reach out and touch it.

  “I don’t even think anyone who likes me will be at the party. I mean, I don’t even think there’s anyone who likes me at this entire school,” I said, when he didn’t say anything about the nasty email. “So, it’s pretty unlikely anyone at the party will like me.”

  “Ask Darrin to go.”

  I looked at him. “Yeah, I guess.” I glanced out the window, and then back at Christian. “Why don’t you come?”

  He frowned. I knew right away he was going to say no and I felt a rush of embarrassment at my rejection.

  “On Halloween?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. But you don’t have to dress up. I never do. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I can’t do it. I’m busy. Sorry.”

  “What are you busy with?” I asked, feeling stupidly crushed.

  “Nothing. Just house-sitting.” He shrugged. “My parents aren’t big fans of Halloween. They go out of town every year.” He shifted in his seat, like his bad leg was hurting him. He changed the subject. “So, you need to teach me how to make a January Jam. Nobody will stop asking for it.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, okay.” I squinted out the window. “I guess I could skip the party.”

  “No. You should go. Fuck ‘em, right?” he smiled at me. “Who gives a shit what they think?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Right. Okay.”

  Christian

&nbs
p; She did this thing at the cash register. She picked up a pencil and punched in the numbers with it, and when she was pausing to search for a number, she’d bite it, near the tip.

  It made me fucking mental. Maybe it would’ve made me mental with any decent-looking girl, and January was just so gorgeous, it drove me half-mad.

  “Focus,” Darrin told me sternly when I spilled my third drink of the evening, this one mostly all over him.

  “I need to get laid,” I told him, tearing my eyes away from her, and looking at his face, which definitely did a lot to get my mind off of sex. And January. And sex.

  “Just ask her out. What’s the big deal?”

  “I don’t want to ask her out. I want to get laid.”

  He sighed. “It’s not like it’s hard for you. Just go to a hockey party. The girls will descend.”

  “I don’t want a pity fuck.”

  “Then, go to a BC party. Catholic girls love a good hate fuck.” He smiled. “It’s a real good thing you’ve got going on. You fucking hate everything fun and everything good-looking still wants to fuck you.”

  “I don’t have anything good going on, Darrin,” I said. “I live with my parents and the last person I fucked was dating an actual ogre.”

  “Well, let dreamgirl close out for once and we can hit up a party with Danielle at BC. Catholic girls. I’m telling you. They’re your market.”

  I raised my eyes at Darrin. “I have to drive dreamgirl home.” I said ‘dreamgirl’ sarcastically—or tried to—but Darrin just smirked. I decided never to say that again.

  “These girls go out late. After you drop her off, they’ll just be getting started.”

  I nodded. January smiled at me as the cash drawer opened and she closed it emphatically, tossing that high blond ponytail back and forth. What was with her today?

  She looked over at me. Caught me staring. She didn’t smirk or pout. She just stared back brazenly.

  “Yeah,” I said to Darrin, lowering my eyes. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  “You seem quiet tonight,” she said, on the drive home. Maybe because we were listening to a sad song and January had a way of talking over sad songs. I had a bad habit of playing them. I needed to get out of that. Maybe because I was actively trying not to think about fucking her.