Separate Schools

by Morrison, KT

  “No, I know—”

  “What do you think I am?—don’t say it. I did this with you. It was us together. You wanted it, I didn’t make it happen. Brady was your idea ...”

  “I know, shh-sh, I’m sorry, you’re right. I don’t think you’re bad or anything, Taylor, I’m sorry ...”

  He guided her now to lay her back against the cold shingles, but brought the quilt around to warm them. They rested their heads on the pillows and watched each other.

  She sniffled, said, “Don’t sleep with Kay ever again.”

  “I won’t,” he said, “I won’t,” and stroked her cheek.

  “Promise me,” she whispered softer.

  “I promise.”

  “You know her, and you’ll be together at State without me. It’ll hurt me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I hated to see you with her.”

  “Why are we doing this then?”

  “It’s the way it’s going to be. I thought it would be all right because it was Kay, but it was worse. You two kept laughing.”

  “Because it was weird.”

  “You were having fun,” she broke into a sob.

  “No, Taylor, it was just nervous laughter. It was awkward ...”

  Taylor whispered, “Was she good in bed? Did you like it with her?”

  “No, Taylor, it wasn’t you. I love you, I wanted to be with you.”

  Her mouth went firm, and she nodded her head, her eyes looking through him now. “We can make this work. I love you so much, Harrison. So, so much. You’re everything to me.”

  His hand swept under the quilt, moving over her hip and down the outside of her thigh, U-turning and making its way up the inside of her thigh. He touched her panties, and she flinched, made a soft sort of grunt. He stroked the cleft overtop her cotton.

  She said, “I’m a little sore.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “I’m closed for the night, I think. I’m sorry. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just not comfortable. Do you want me to use my hand on you?”

  He felt the pain of refusal but hid it. He shook his head no.

  “My mouth?”

  He shook his head no again, but knew if she tried without asking him he would have loved it.

  “We’ll do it again before I leave for California, I promise.”

  “Maybe in the morning,” he said.

  “Maybe,” she said. “Would you cuddle with me?”

  “I’d love to,” he said, and lifted an arm. She flipped over and scurried her back against him. When she felt the point of his erection push her rump, she wiggled and made a breathy snort. He closed her in the quilt and squeezed her light body against his.

  As trying as it all was, as awful as his day had been, he was content with her like this. The alternative was her fucking Colt, dumping him, going to Santa Cruz, and he’d hardly hear from her ever again. Stasis was better than expulsion; at least he thought so. He sighed heavily, and she squirmed tighter against him. He said, “Earlier tonight, I though I could see myself hanging out with your dad on his balcony at his divorced dude’s apartment, sitting on one of those cheap lawn chairs, drinking beers and lamenting the Brooks’ women together.”

  She snickered.

  He said, “I’m glad you want to try this. I think it’s possible if we work at it.”

  Now she nodded and gathered quilt up under her chin.

  She said, “It wasn’t like that with my dad. It wasn’t him. It was both of them.”

  “They both cheated?”

  “It’s complicated. It was ...” she sighed heavily, “... they were in emotional relationships. With co-workers.”

  “Both of them?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Harrison,” she said petulantly and wormed against him.

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Just hold me ...”

  Part 6

  78

  Gray morning light woke him and he was back in Taylor’s room, alone in the bed.

  The events over the last twelve hours drained him and left him empty and powerless. Couldn’t tell you how long he’d slept, but he had psychic knowledge that he was the last one in the house to wake. There were voices down below, and the clatter of people moving around knocking cups and glasses and pans in the kitchen. Raucous laughter, too, and boastful braying.

  He licked his sleep-dry lips, stared at the sloping ceiling above Taylor’s summertime bed. No waves lapped golden light on the cedar paneling up there today. It was dull and gray and lifeless, and it was exactly how he felt.

  When his eyes had fluttered open, his first instinct was a shooting hand off to the side searching for his Taylor. She was gone. It was just a simple absence but instantly felt more profound. When he rolled to his side, he saw the sheets and covers torn down in a messy triangular fold across the empty bed where Kay and Brady had slept. Somehow they’d all woken and managed to file themselves out of the bedroom without waking poor Harrison. He wondered if they knew he needed to sleep—but he also wondered if he just didn’t matter enough to them. It was one of those early morning dreadful paranoid thoughts that hopefully would burn away as the sun grew higher in the sky. But he craned his neck in the pillow to look up above and out the window and could see nothing but dull gray morning sky. No sun today.

  He gathered himself, pulled his body from the bed and found clean clothes. Began then to fold and tidy and put away some of his things in the knapsack. Today’s schedule would be the same as every end of summer weekend: wake up, shoot the shit, someone would make breakfast (wouldn’t be Trish, it would probably be him again today), then gradually, as late morning became noon, guests would begin their departure. In previous years it was no big deal, you go home and you see your friends on Tuesday, the first day of school. Last year would be the last time they were all going to the same school again. No more would the Brooks’ Lakeside Party be just a turning page. It was like the end of the book.

  Once he was dressed, he headed out of the bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs to listen to the voices. This could be the last time for this as well. He came quietly down the steps to hear Cisco complaining, Mikey said something in a gravelly blues voice, and Cookie gave her bright syncopated laughter always punctuated with a comically horse-like sound.

  At the bottom of the stairs he could hear two voices on his left, the speakers hidden and trying not to be heard, separated from the group. Two familiar girls talking with each other in purposely hushed tones. He stopped and leaned against the wall. It was Shelby and Roxie and they’d gathered in the narrow hall that ran to the pantry talking closely about secret things that made him want to listen in. He could see Shelby’s shoulder and arm, and sometimes could see Roxie’s hand gesturing beyond her.

  His scalp tingled as he listened, and his heart raced at the terribleness of his eavesdropping, but instead of fleeing he grew quieter and more still.

  Roxie whispered, “She said they went into the bedroom and Harrison had, like—” now her voice got even quieter and he had to strain to hear what was said, “—he had Taylor like face down with her butt up in the air and he was ... he had his tongue, like, up her butt hole.”

  “No way,” Shelby laughed.

  “And like Taylor was fingering herself and they were saying like all kinds of kinky shit and he was spanking her ...”

  Shelby hunched forward and laughed so hard she blew raspberries.

  “She said it was the dirtiest things she’d ever heard. Like You slut, and Take it in your cunt, you whore, and Taylor was practically cuh-rying ...”

  Shelby waved her off like she couldn’t hear any more until she caught her breath.

  Roxie laughed too, saying, “I know, right?”

  “You’d just never know looking at him.”

  “Crazy, huh? And he’s such a nice guy. She better watch him at State.”

  Harrison couldn’t hold back a growing smile despite the fear he would be imminently caught. He clamped his lower lip with
his teeth.

  Roxie said, “She’ll have Kelsey Kay on him like a hawk.”

  “Shit, you imagine he ends up with his tongue up her butt hole?”

  They both laughed heartily.

  Shelby said, “Taylor would kill him. And her.”

  “Who’s gonna watch her though?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I guess she didn’t break up with him.”

  The smile faded from his face and a morning-gray sadness returned, seeping into his dark corners and showing his hiding spots.

  “Kay said she didn’t.”

  “I thought she said she was going to.”

  “She did. But I guess she didn’t do it. Yet.”

  “I guess.”

  They paused for a moment, and Shelby turned her face so he could see her profile and he felt a wave of embarrassment at the oncoming discovery. They would be embarrassed and he would be ashamed.

  She looked back to Roxie and joked: “Would you break up with a guy who put his tongue up your butt hole?”

  They both laughed in quiet snickers.

  Roxie said, “Gross. You ever have a guy do that?”

  “No way.”

  “Would you let them?”

  “No way.”

  There was silence for a long moment then more snickering. “You would, you totally would.”

  “Gross. No way. If some dude put his tongue in my pooper, I would karate chop his head off.”

  Roxie said, “You’d like it. You’re a pervert.” They both laughed in loud uproarious cackles now and he had to get the hell out of here before he got caught.

  But Shelby said, “Hey, good for her. Harrison’s a good guy.”

  He paused again, taking one step back, worried now someone would come from the kitchen and see him, call out to him and give him away. Mikey was singing again and someone opened a pop can. Or a beer. What if they needed something from the pantry?

  “He is,” Roxie agreed.

  Then more quietly, Shelby asked Roxie: “Did you sleep with Care Bear?”

  They got close and he couldn’t hear what was said.

  They moved apart again, and Shelby said, “That guy is huge.”

  Roxie said, “He was done in like two minutes and then he fell asleep on me. I thought I was gonna suffocate.”

  So the Bear had fucked her. An inexplicable sadness returned.

  Shelby chuckled. “No tongues in your butthole?”

  They laughed and guffawed, and Roxie pushed Shelby. If she turned her cheek, she would have seen him watching. His stomach fluttered and his butthole puckered. Shelby lunged forward and was hidden again.

  Roxie laughed, “Sounds like I should’ve gone to bed with Harrison.”

  They chuckled low together.

  “Mm, he is kinda cute.”

  Now with great but frightened stealth he stepped himself backward, glad he had bare feet. He moved and moved until he couldn’t see Shelby’s elbow anymore. They still talked and Shelby said something that had them folded in cachinnation and he ached to know what it was—laughing at him?—but he’d heard enough and tried his luck too far already. He’d heard enough to make him smile, and on this gloomy day he felt the first warm light fall on him.

  Taylor had intended to break up with him. He was right. They were done as a couple if he didn’t propose what they agreed to. But they weren’t out of the woods yet.

  Heart growing heavy, his heels found the top of the stairs leading to the basement. He turned and descended. Each step down, his heart felt heavier.

  She could tell him later this morning: I changed my mind, we’re crazy to be open. She could tell him on the ride home. She could tell him when she kissed him goodbye this afternoon. She could call him before she left for Santa Cruz. Or she could call him from Santa Cruz. I’ve met someone. I’ve met someone special and I just can’t be what you want me to be. Blood began to thud heavily through his heart.

  He took the cooler from the back window by the basement door, walked it out into the surprisingly chilly morning. He upturned it and left it open in an upside down V so it would dry out for the ride home. Smoke still drifted in weak, aimless circles from the excellent fire he’d built. Chairs were overturned and the ring around the fire pit was littered with empty glasses and empty bottles.

  The lake was silent. No one out there hooting and hollering or racing around on jet skis. The air felt heavy, but cold and strangely humid. Without even realizing he began descending the steps, his heart sinking lower and lower but an enlightening thought revealing itself to him. Her toe ring. What would it mean if he could find it? He wanted to see her face when he presented it to her.

  When he hit the beach, he found he wasn’t alone ...

  79

  On the left-hand side of the beach where Harrison wouldn’t have seen as he descended the steps, a muscular young man was bent over raking his fingers through the sand. It was Colt. Harrison’s shoulders drooped because he was positive Colt was already down here looking for Taylor’s toe ring.

  I bet I can find it.

  He didn’t forget. He fucked her, but he didn’t forget her. Wouldn’t it be better if he just did? Wouldn’t it be better if he fucked Taylor then went down to the fire, kicked off his flip-flops, had a beer and never thought about her again?

  His cheeks were hot now and the cold of the lake air stung. He wiped and rubbed at his eyes, watching Colt walking backward now, dragging his fingers along in undulating crescents, trying to kick up Taylor’s toe ring.

  Harrison turned right and put his back to Colt, headed to the opposite side of the beach until he was in a straight line ninety-degrees from the swimming dock. That was where he’d seen her last night after he’d come to shore looking for her in the boathouse and then swept through the house trying to find her, she was here and this was where she lied to him. And Roxie did, too.

  We were out swimming, we must’ve missed you.

  He shook the thought away, bent over and imitated Colt’s action, pushing his fingers into the sand and then wagging them through. He found a bottle cap.

  He worked for a quarter of an hour before they finally acknowledged each other. They’d grown closer in their search, and Colt stood now, one hand on his hip and watching Harrison with no expression, ball cap on backward, wearing a baggy undershirt that showed off the muscles of his shoulders and arms. Harrison stared back. Nothing was said, but he knew it was communicated.

  I told you I’d fuck her. I told her told you I’d fuck your girlfriend.

  Did Colt know? Did he know that Harrison knew it had actually happened? Did he know that he just humiliated a verified nice guy who didn’t deserve it? He was the nice guy, the hero in the story. How had it come to this? How did this awful human being manage to take something of such great value from him? And worse: that thing of great value to him was an independent being that he always thought would know better. Maybe she didn’t.

  Or maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t the hero in the story. Maybe this guy staring at him grimly right now was the real hero. The guy that would come into Taylor’s life and rock her world. Make her jump out of bed in the morning, grab her phone to see if he’d texted. Make her chatter to all her friends and swoon about how hot her boyfriend is.

  Without saying anything to Colt, he lowered his gaze, started to kick through the sand again looking for a flash of gold that might bring a happy smile to lovely Taylor’s face.

  80

  The French doors up by the barbecues slammed. There was a commotion.

  Now he could see KC with his back toward the beach facing someone at the house. It was Kay and Taylor. Kay had her finger pointing; she looked red-faced. Taylor’s arms were folded as well; she looked upset. KC shouted something before wheeling around and stomping down the stairs.

  Harrison could feel his testicles beginning to shrink in his shorts, climbing up inside his body before KC kicked him between the legs and crushed them to dust. You’re going to be open? You piece
of shit ... Don’t you respect my sister? And then wham he would punch him right in the face. Taylor deserves a man! he would say, hands clenched in fists at his sides, knowing that skinny, weak-willed Harrison couldn’t take more than two punches, and he didn’t want to go to jail for accidentally murdering the lowlife who wasn’t enough for his little sister.

  But as KC stomped down the steps, he wasn’t looking at Harrison. KC was mad and his face was red. He was shirtless, his muscular bulk jumped and bounced as he came down the steps in just a pair of cargo shorts. He pointed at Harrison with the last three fingers of his right hand and said, “Harrison, get out of here.”

  He said, “What? Why?”

  KC was adamant. “Harrison, get the fuck out of here,” he repeated, but he had no time for any more niceties because now he was crossing the sand and closing the distance between him and Colt. Colt watched him coming, stood upright with his hands up by his chest ready to block the punch. KC said, “Colt, fuckin’ tell me you didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?” Colt said defiantly.

  “Tell me you didn’t fuck my sister.”

  Colt was confident and casual, but there was a stiffness in his neck and Harrison new Colt felt the oncoming trouble. He said, “What are you talking about? I didn’t fuck your sister. Who? You mean Riley?”

  KC was undeterred, still mad. “Taylor. Tell me you didn’t.”

  Colt stared and acted incredulous, like he couldn’t believe the question was being asked of him. He looked briefly to his left and caught Harrison’s eye then abruptly turned away. The connection there had been intense but brief.

  Now Harrison’s heart was racing. Who had told? Would everybody know now?

  Taylor and Kelsey were trotting down the stairs, and now Roxie and Riley were coming out from the French doors as well. A whole gaggle of defenders.

  Colt said, “Taylor? Your little sister?”

  “If I fuckin’ find out you did, I’m going to fuckin’ kill you,” KC said, jabbing a finger in Colt’s face.