Because of You

by RaShelle Workman

  Her face falls, and she drops the clothes. “What is this?”

  I’m sure I know. My aunt and uncle made me watch videos about drugs.

  She grabs it out of my hand. “How dare you go through my things?”

  “I didn’t. I swear. Your purse fell off the bed.” Gina is on her knees, picking up the stuff that’s spilled everywhere. I kneel next her and place a hand over her clenched fist. The one holding the drugs. “Want to talk about it? No judgments.”

  She glances up. Her eyes are watery. She sniffles. And I cringe. The monotone voice of the guy on the video plays through my mind:

  Side effects of cocaine are stuffy nose, excitability, irritability…

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I like it. I like the way it makes me feel.” She stands, opens her hand. “Want a hit?”

  I shake my head and move over to my bed. “No thanks.”

  She shrugs. “You won’t say anything?”

  Warning bells ring in my head. Should I say something? What if the campus police find out she has it in our dorm room? Will I get in trouble too? How much is she using? Could she die?

  Even as the questions pummel my mind, I know I won’t say anything. “No, of course not. I only want to make sure you’re okay. You know you can tell me anything.”

  Gina sits next to me. “I use it to help me feel more confident, less like an ugly nobody.” She sniffles. “And college is hard. It takes more than coffee to keep me up and alert.”

  I get what she’s saying. I know what it’s like to need something to cover up pain. Do something to make the fears, the hurt stop. Music and a yearly tattoo have been enough for me. Now that I’ve tried alcohol and its numbing goodness, I don’t want to give that up either. So I nod encouragingly.

  “It’ll stay between you and me.” I reach out and grab her hand. “But please be careful. And you most definitely are not ugly.”

  She smiles. “I will. Thanks.” Her words aren’t convincing. I think of the past two weekends and the way she’s come back to the room crying after having done things she didn’t want to. I realize the word careful probably isn’t in her vocabulary.

  But I pretend like I’m fine with what she’s doing and say, “Good.”

  Gina stuffs the baggie in her front jeans pocket and picks up the clothes she dropped. “Put these on. Kinky Kyle is going to be here soon. Do you have a black bra?”

  I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow. For some reason it upsets me that she keeps calling Kyle kinky.

  “So, no.” She laughs, moving back to her closet. She pulls a spaghetti strap tank with a shelf bra out and tosses it at me. “Wear this.”

  I slide out of my sweatpants and shirt. Turn away from Gina and take off my bra. Then I reach back. “Tank, please.”

  Gina plops it in my hand. I slide it over my head.

  “Skirt.”

  She places it in my hand. I shimmy it on. It’s black, super tight. Hugs my body in all the right places.

  “Top.”

  It’s a see through coral blouse. Very feminine and pretty. I glance at myself in the oval mirror Gina bought the other day.

  “This is beautiful.” I turn back and forth, admiring my reflection.

  “Of course it is.” Gina digs through her dozens of shoeboxes and brings back a pair of black heels. They are high and look seriously hazardous. “Put these on. They say sex, but with subtlety.”

  I slide them on.

  “Beautiful. You’ve got great legs.”

  “Thanks, Gina.” I sit on my bed and start applying lotion.

  “Yeah, nothing like dry knees to ruin a good outfit.” Gina sits next to me.

  “I’m handling it.”

  She lays back. “What about the V situation? How do you intend to handle that?”

  I finish with the lotion and rub my hands together. Then lay back next to her. “I’m going to take it slow.” My face heats at the memory of Kyle teaching me how to kiss. I want to do a lot more of that. Kissing. Kissing. Kissing.

  “What are you thinking?” Gina turns on her side and leans on an arm.

  I cover my eyes. “Kissing Kyle,” I admit.

  “What was it like?”

  I’m surprised she doesn’t think my first kiss is trivial. Silly. She’s kissed guys, and done a lot more. I move my hands and face her. “It was a little embarrassing,” I tell her truthfully.

  “Why?” She’s scrutinizing my face.

  I close my eyes. “Because I didn’t know what I was doing. But he was sweet. He showed me.”

  “Showed you?” She leans in closer. “What do you mean?”

  “Purse your lips and tighten them, like you have to kiss a dog.”

  “Ugh, I’ve done that plenty of times.” She gives a harsh laugh, and then does it.

  I press a finger to her bottom lip and massage it the way he did. “Relax.” Her lips part, and her already dilated eyes get wider. I shrug. “Then he kissed me.”

  “Like this.” She reaches over and presses a kiss to my lips.

  I lean back. “Yeah, kinda.” I sit up. “Why did you do that?”

  “Hey, chill. I’m not trying to hit on you.”

  I search her face, reading her serious expression.

  “I’ll admit you look hot. That outfit looks much better on you than me.” Gina laughs nervously. “It’s just,” she wrings her hands together. “I’ve never kissed someone when I was sober. I wanted to see what it was like.”

  I sit back down. “Really?”

  She sighs, rolling away. “Never mind. Sorry. I’m always doing shit before I think it through.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I want to reach out and hug her. Tell her how grateful I am for her. Tell her I consider her the sister I always wished I had. But I don’t. “We need to find you a sober boyfriend,” I say lightly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shrugs my hand off.

  “I don’t need any favors.” She pushes off my bed and pulls on her combat boots. Without looking back, she grabs her purse and says, “Have fun on your date.” Then she’s gone.

  Maddie

  re you going to eat that?” Kyle points at the gruesome brown shells filled with a rubbery jelly-looking substance sitting on a plate in front of me.

  My nose scrunches. “Most definitely not.” I poke one of the shells with my fork. “This is escargot?”

  “Yes. Snails.” He covers his mouth with the back of his hand.

  And I glare. “That’s disgusting.” I lean in so that I can whisper, “They even smell bad.”

  He doesn’t hide his laughter this time. “I know. I can smell them from here.”

  “Well, why did you let me order them?”

  He shrugs. “I thought you knew what you were doing.” He moves to get one of the waiter’s attention. The guy notices and comes over. He’s wearing black pants, a white shirt, red bow tie, and a red vest.

  “Yes, sir?”

  Kyle picks up the plate of snails and hands them to the waiter. “Please take these away. The lady,” he indicates me, “has changed her mind.”

  The waiter nods. “No problem, Mr. Hadley.” He takes the plate and turns to me. “Would you care for anything else?”

  “No, thank you. I’m good.” I can’t help fiddling with the napkin in my lap, folding and unfolding it.

  “Very well.” He walks away.

  “You sure you don’t want something else?” Kyle places an outstretched hand on the table and wiggles his fingers. He’s asking if he can hold my hand, and I happily comply. His fingers entwine with mine, making my skin prickle, my whole body vibrate. It’s as though nothing else exists but his hand and mine. “Maddie?”

  I snap out of it. “Huh?”

  He snickers. “Nothing.” His thumb is caressing my inner wrist. “What do you think of this place?”

  “It’s nice,” I say, clearing my throat.

  A little too nice, I don’t add. It’s super fancy. Thick white linen tablecloths cover each rounded table, adored with r
ed roses arranged into large centerpieces. The silver is real. The plates are made of china. And the napkins are thicker than my bath towels. A ten-piece orchestra is playing Pachelbel Canon in D. The bass begins, then the violins and violas along with the cello. A beautiful round of notes. I can’t help but close my eyes and listen. Even though this piece of music is considered mainstream classical, it’s always been one of my favorites. I focus on each note. The violins play staccato on the E string while the viola and second violins continue the recurring round.

  The gut wrenching pain in my stomach that never fully goes away calms slightly. I take a deep breath. Kyle squeezes my hand, and I open my eyes.

  “Everything okay?” His brows are pinched together. Worry presses his lips into a frown.

  “Yes, just listening. I love this song.”

  He wipes his mouth. “I like it too.”

  A different waiter brings our main course. He seems familiar. “Here you are.” He sets a plate in front of me.

  Kyle moves his appetizer of minestrone soup. The waiter places a plate in front of him.

  “Would you like some fresh Parmesan on your Chicken Marsala?” he asks me politely.

  “Sure.”

  He begins grating. “Tell me when.”

  “That’s good,” I say after a few spins of the grater.

  “And for you, sir?”

  “No thanks, Evan.” Kyle smirks. “You’re really laying it on thick, cuz.”

  Evan’s eyes go wide. He looks at me. “I can’t believe you’re little Maddie Martin. Pudgy Mudgy. You used to be a little plump around the middle. Not any more though. You’re stunning.”

  I look away, down at my plate. Heat is rising up my neck and covering my cheeks. A lot of kids called me Pudgy Mudgy. One thing about going to school in Bellam Springs I don’t miss. And I remember Evan. Never did like him. But for Kyle’s sake, I try to be nice. “Thanks, I guess.” I pick up my fork and spin it in my noodles.

  “That’ll be all, Evan.” I hear the controlled anger in Kyle’s voice.

  “Come on. I want—”

  “Get out of here and leave us alone,” Kyle snarls, keeping his voice low. “Or I’m going to tell Uncle you’re being a pain in the ass.”

  I glance up in time to see Evan grind his jaws.

  “Fine.” He walks away.

  I watch, wondering about him. He looks like he’s about our age, but I can’t remember him. He seems to know who I am, though.

  I glance at Kyle, admiring him. He’s wearing dark jeans, a gray shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a navy blue jacket. He looks exquisite, not as dressed up as everyone else, but gorgeous. Everyone seems to know him, and I wonder if he brings all of his dates here. I push the thought away. I heard his anger when he spoke to Evan. Kyle protecting me. I can’t help but like the way it warms my insides, makes me feel cared for. I’m going to focus on that.

  “Sorry about my cousin,” Kyle says, playing with my hand still lying on the table. “Do you remember him?”

  I shrug. “Kind of.”

  “He’s pretty cool once you get to know him.”

  “I’m sure,” I say, pulling my hand away.

  The way his cousin acted, so flippant about the awful nickname, I don’t buy it. I’m not sure I’m ready to be back in Kyle’s world, even as much as I want to be with him. Maybe it isn’t a good idea.

  “Okay, yeah, he’s pretty much always an asshole. Most of the time I choose to ignore it.” He cuts into his medium-rare steak sticks it in his mouth, and chews.

  I do the same: cut a piece of chicken, pick up some noodles, and take a bite. “Mmm.”

  “Seriously. Uncle Ryan runs the best restaurant in Wyoming.”

  I nod. Swallow, and focus on my plate. Talk of his family is making me uncomfortable.

  “Did I hear my name being spoken in vain?” A man with dark hair, silver dusting his sideburns, and dark eyes walks up to the table. He’s an older version of Evan with a little paunch. His forehead is broad and his face is stern.

  Kyle stands, clapping his uncle on the back. The man does the same to Kyle. I try to smile, but don’t quite make it. My heart starts to race. Something about him seems familiar.

  Finally they stop embracing and his uncle turns to me. My breath catches in my throat. I’m not sure why. He sticks out his hand.

  “You must be Maddie Martin. I’m Ryan Hadley. Nice to meet you.” He has an easy smile and a deep timber to his voice.

  I’ve heard his voice somewhere before, but I’m not sure where.

  I rise, and take his outstretched hand. It’s warm. “Nice to meet you too.”

  His smile falters slightly, and he drops my hand. “I’ll let the two of you get back to your dinner.”

  “Thanks,” Kyle says. “The food is delicious, as always.”

  Kyle’s uncle turns his gaze on me and I see a flicker of coldness in his eyes. “You didn’t like the escargot?”

  I glance at Kyle for help. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it; I didn’t even try it. My stomach roiled at the thought.

  Thankfully, Kyle steps in. “She didn’t know what it was. I should’ve told her. It’s my fault.”

  His uncle raises a dismissive hand. “Nonsense, boy. Think nothing of it.” He gives me a final glance before walking away.

  I feel my head tilt in confusion and I sit.

  Kyle does the same. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

  “Don’t worry. My uncle is a little on the odd side.” He shrugs and goes back to his food.

  I try to do the same, but it tastes like powder in my mouth.

  “Why did you start playing the piano?” Kyle asks, as though everything is normal.

  I want it to be normal. I do. He’s asked a basic question. Lots of people have asked the same one over the years. None were Kyle, though. The son of a murderer. The reason I no longer live with my parents. Never got a chance to have my father teach me to drive, or have my mom help me get ready for my first date—or first anything. They’re gone because his dad killed them. They no longer exist because of his father.

  Another super attack is coming on. I feel it, sense it. My hands shake and my bottom lip trembles. I stand, knocking my chair over. “I-I—oh my gosh, I have to go.” I throw the napkin that’d been sitting in my lap on the table and stand, pushing back the chair.

  “Maddie?” Shock contorts his face.

  “I’m sorry, but I made a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.” My hands tremble.

  I can’t do this. Why did I think I could? I push past waiters and patrons. Brush past Kyle’s uncle and stumble out the front door. The night air is cold and chills the back of my neck. I bend over, putting my hands on my knees, and inhale deep breaths, like a fish out of water.

  That’s what I am.

  I don’t know how I thought dating Kyle, or kissing Kyle, or almost doing other things with Kyle, would be okay. It isn’t.

  Kyle steps out, hands on his hips. “What the hell, Maddie?”

  I scan his face, recognize the frustration in the lines and furrows. He reminds me vaguely of his uncle. When his eyes find mine his face relaxes, replaced by concern.

  “Hey, are you alright?”

  I want to remain calm, but I’m not. “No, I’m not okay.” I walk away, but turn back, running into his outstretched arms.

  “Why not? Did I do something?”

  “Yes! No.” I sag in his arms. “You don’t understand.”

  He kisses the side of my head. With those lips. Gorgeous lips. “Tell me, then.”

  I press my head against his chest and breathe in his aftershave and clean laundry and garlic.

  “Maddie?”

  “Ugh, it’s nothing.” I can’t tell him. I don’t want him to know I think his dad is a murderer. I don’t want him to feel bad. “It’s happening again, like the other day.”

  “A super attack?”

  I nod my head. “It sounds more ominous than it is, but I need to rest.”

  “Come on, then.
Let me take you home.”

  “ ‘Kay.”

  He drives me to Irvine Hall without saying a word. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s concentrating or if his mind is elsewhere, but I can’t help admiring his profile, the way he holds himself, his strong jaw, and long lashes.

  “What are you looking at?” he asks, surprising me.

  “You,” I respond simply, unembarrassed that I’ve been caught.

  A big grin fills his handsome face.

  After he puts the Jeep in park, he runs around to my side and opens my door. “Take my hand.”

  I do, enjoying the warmth of his fingers against my skin. When my feet touch the ground, he kisses me, a quick but tender kiss.

  I lean into him, kiss him back with fervor.

  “You’re a quick study,” Kyle says, playfully.

  I perk up. “Ya think?”

  “I know.” He taps the tip of my nose with his finger. I get the implication behind his words. He knows because he’s made out with a lot of girls. I’m not sure whether to think he’s complimented or insulted me. He kisses me again, this time for longer, and I wrap my arms around his waist.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lover Girl. Should we meet in the practice room at five? Professor Jenkins gave us a standing reservation.”

  I quickly scan through my day. “I’d like that. But don’t call me Lover Girl. Please.”

  “Fine. I’ll stick with Freckles, even though they seem to have vanished.” He walks away, then turns back.

  I try to think of a quick come back. When we were young I called him Brace Face and Frizz Head. Neither of those apply now. Words like “hottie” and “gorgeous” enter my mind. But then, like he said, the small smattering of freckles that used to adorn my face are gone. Then I get a stroke of genius.

  “I guess Freckles is better. See ya, Pretty Boy.”

  He busts out laughing. “By the way, I have your music. From the other day. I’ll bring it.” He winks.

  I’d completely forgotten about the music. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Kyle

  “She seems nice,” Evan says, closing his apartment door.

  He zips his jacket, pulls out a pack of cigarettes, flicks the lighter, and ignites one. The air is freezing, the sky clear, and millions of stars shine overhead. Even the Milky Way is visible. Evan inhales and exhales, walks over to the old balcony, and leans his elbows on it.