by Jolene Perry
Kind of sucks, because just like he said at the beginning of the year, he wants more than that. But a worse thought hits my gut. Maybe she’ll give him more, and again, I wonder why on earth I suddenly care. Or, I need to find a way not to care.
***
Shawn and my brother are both drunk and laughing way too loudly in front of Shawn’s car. Mouths open, holding onto one another for support. They look ridiculous.
My arms wrap around my middle, trying to hold in some warmth. There’s no way my parents don’t know what’s going on here, even if they’re settled in for the night. We’re just outside the circle of light from the porch, but it doesn’t take a whole lot of brains to know there’s been drinking.
“Shawn asked to stay overnight here with you,” Luke says quietly. “I’m thinking with the amount of alcohol he drank, I should just take him to my dad’s house to sleep it off?”
I glance to where Ben and Shawn are still laughing over nothing. “Yeah.” I let out a breath of relief. “Thanks.” And then the wave of guilt hits me. I should want him here. And it sucks because I do love him, but this weekend was supposed to be my break—not another time to shove all the recent frustrations with him back in my face.
“He’s headed home tomorrow.” And Luke’s voice almost makes it sound like he’s trying to help me out with this information. I can’t have him think that things between Shawn and I aren’t good. It’s just wrong.
“He’s my boyfriend, Luke. I want him here.” I’m glad the light from the porch is dim because I don’t know how the lie comes off, and Luke reads me too well.
He looks down at the ground. “Sorry.”
“You two look all buddy-buddy over there.” Shawn’s eyes narrow.
“Buddy-buddy?” Luke laughs. “How old are you? Let’s get out of here.”
“Nah, nah…” Shawn gestures, making him stumble as he comes my direction. “I’m stayin’ here with my girl.”
“Your girl is my sister.” Ben stands up taller and then laughs, so hard that he’s wiping away tears—I have no idea why it’s so hysterical that Shawn and I are together.
Shawn takes the last few steps to reach me. The smell of beer hits me before his warmth does.
“Well, I got you guys home. I’m going to finish out the night.” Ben waves once over his shoulder, and starts toward the path back to the beach.
I’m not sure if I react, or if either of the other guys reacts to Ben leaving, because Shawn is staring at me. “Did you not want me here?” His voice is low.
His dark eyes and tight face warn me to take a step back.
“No, of course I do, I…what’s going on with you?” I hate him like this. It’s just not him. If he’d just talk to me, or if we could go back to just hanging out and goofing off or something, maybe this dark part of him would start to fade away.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” His face pulls into a deeper scowl.
I take another step back but reach out to him with my hand, hoping somehow, by touching him, it’ll help him relax back into himself. “You just don’t seem like yourself, and…”
“If you want to see more of me, then don’t run away from me, babe.” His hands grab my hips, tight.
All I can think is how I need to not react, but my chest is all fluttery and my arms go weak. “I’m not running, I…”
His brows come down and his eyes turn black, his hands tighten even further. “What the hell would you call it?”
A small whimper escapes my throat and Shawn’s torn from his place in front of me. I gasp and jump back, as Shawn spins around to face Luke.
Nothing but breathing. Mine. Luke’s. Shawn’s.
Luke’s standing tall. Shawn’s fists are clenched, and I’m sure they’ll fight. They can’t fight. Can’t. Please.
Luke’s face breaks into a huge smile; he laughs, and slaps Shawn on the shoulder.
I almost collapse in relief.
“Let’s get out of here, Shawn. We can head back down or back to my dad’s place. We got Ronnie home for curfew, but that’s no reason for us to call it a night.”
Shawn looks back and forth between Luke and I for a few moments. His body wavers a bit before taking two shaky steps towards Luke.
“Climb in.” Luke opens the driver’s side door and rests one foot inside.
Shawn steps back to me, his anger suddenly forgotten. His lips come at mine in a harsh kiss that tastes like beer, before weaving his way back to the car.
Shawn likes to drink, but he’s not usually like this. I wonder if he’ll remember anything tomorrow.
I give a small wave as they pull out and almost fall on the front porch steps.
Shawn’s been back in Cali for almost a year. Has he just hidden this part of him? Is he changing? Will he change back? Has his dad always been an angry man? I don’t remember that at all. Or are things between them getting worse? Maybe I’m just making too much out of a few small incidents. I mean, he shoulders a lot of responsibility at his dad’s shop—does his anger stem from that, or something else? All I remember from him is sweetness, even from the months before school started up. None of this makes sense.
I love Shawn. I need for him to be the guy I fell in love with. I’m not sure what life would be like without him, and I don’t want to find out.
***
I have a text from Shawn in the morning.
SHAWN: SORRY. I WAS OUT OF IT LST NIGHT. BRLY REMEMBER WHAT HAPPND. HAV TO GET HOME THIS AM FR WRK. U KNOW BLCK FRI AND ALL THAT. DAD’S BEEN ON A RAMPAGE 2. SORRY AGN. LOV U BABE.
I send him an I love you back and roll over in bed, just hoping to get the kind of rest I need while we’re here and away from home.
“Ronnie?” Dad knocks on my door.
“Come on in.” I don’t move.
“I know you hate it when I make small talk to get to my point.” He’s quiet, but his voice is all business.
My chest sinks. This means he’s worried about something and wants to start asking personal questions.
I roll over to face him. “What is it, Dad?” I want to keep the irritation from my voice, but this weekend has so far not at all been what I needed it to be, and Dad asking personal questions isn’t going to help anything.
“Shawn was in rare form last night.” His hands shuffle in his khaki pockets a few times. “Is something going on with him?”
“No. I don’t know.” The words come out slowly. Again. Sucks to have an over-observant shrink for a dad.
“You don’t have to answer me.” Silence hangs for a moment. “I’ve already talked to your mother, but we both know she’s colossally unobservant.”
I smile. “Dad!” I’m sort of surprised he brings up something we both know, but have never said out loud.
“It’s just that I know Shawn was drinking last night. I can no longer stop your brother, him being legal and out of the house and all, but it’s not just that.” Dad’s lips push together like they always do when he’s really thinking. “It’s you. You seem, distant or something. And maybe it’s just normal girl teenage stuff, but I want to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Everything’s great, Dad, just a lot going on. I’m probably keeping myself too busy.” Please let this work.
“Well, then I’m glad you’re staying behind today.” He lets out a long sigh. “I wish I had the option.”
Poor Dad has gotten drug behind Mom for shopping every weekend after Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember. “Sorry.”
“Your brother is joining us, so enjoy the alone time, okay?” He grabs my foot under the covers and gives it a squeeze.
“Thanks.” And now I’m suddenly glad my dad’s a shrink because he’s observant enough to know I need time. Why does everything have to have two sides like this?
“See you.” He stands up and walks out.
I’m going to have to do better at not looking distracted, frustrated and busy. Dad’s not one to let things go.
***
I shuffl
e my way up the stairs to the kitchen. The clock reads just after noon. Wow. A shadow passes the kitchen door and someone’s knock makes me jump. My heart speeds. Who on earth would be here?
I slowly open the door. “Luke?”
“Hey.” His smile is easy and his hands rest in his front pockets. Ferris Bueller t-shirt today.
“Come on in. I’m about to make breakfast.” I open the door wider.
“Breakfast?” His brows go up. “It’s like, noon.”
“You’ve never had breakfast at noon?” I tease.
“Point made.” He grins.
“Everyone left early. I needed an alone day,” I explain. Something to make me feel like I’m getting my head back on straight.
“Oh.” His brows come together. “I’ll take off. I was just bored. Mom and Dad fought over me for Thanksgiving. He won, but he’s meeting some people for golf today.”
I know that Luke’s maybe part of my confusion, and why I need space, but he’s also the easiest person to be lazy with. And today, that’s exactly what I need. “I’m glad you’re here. Saves me from my circling thoughts.” I back up and step into the kitchen.
Luke follows, shutting the door behind him. “And what are your thoughts circling around?”
“Worried about Shawn. He hasn’t been himself.” I slide a bagel into the toaster and lean against the counter, still not sure if I want to see what’s in Luke’s eyes for a conversation like this.
“I’m sort of worried about him, and you, and…” His voice has this solemn tone I’m just not in the mood for, and his warm hand rests on my arm.
“Stop.” I jerk my arm back, and hold my hand between us. “The reason I’m letting you stay is so I don’t have to think about it.” But I have to drop my serious face or he’ll keep at it. Instead I smile, like I’m just teasing and we’re both just fine.
“Last night. Is that how he is with you?” Luke’s doing this kicked puppy dog, tilty-face thing.
“No. I haven’t seen him drink like that in a long time.” I shift my weight. “Can we be done with this?”
“I know his dad’s business isn’t doing as well as he needs it to, but Shawn’s dad being angry doesn’t make it okay for Shawn to hurt you.” Luke’s eyes are so intent, full of concern.
I take a hard swallow before finding my voice. “Now are you done?”
“Done.” He lets out what’s probably a frustrated sigh. “But, Ronnie? I’m not going to let it go.”
Perfect. “Luke, I need you to be my comfortable place, and—”
“And you really want me to drop it.” His arm reaches out like he’s going to hug me or hold me, but it drops back to his side.
“Thanks.” I really shouldn’t be wishing he’d take me in his arms. If I knew I could curl up on him, have him comfort me, and not bring it up again, I’d do it. But he will bring it up again.
I’m crazy.
I turn away from his brown eyes and slather cream cheese on the bagel as it burns my fingertips, still too hot from the toaster. Keeping busy seems like the best way to avoid. I hand one to Luke, avoiding eye contact, and start for the stairs. “There’s soda down here.” Anything to prevent silence.
He steps down behind me and stops when he sees the sprawling mass of blankets spread over the floor. “What is this?” His brows pull in confusion for a moment, and a smile spreads. “Blanketopia.”
My heart jumps, and I spin to face him. That’s a me and Mindy thing. “How do you know about that?”
“You and Mindy used to keep some sort of notebook, and you guys told me.” He sits with his back against the couch, crossing his legs, making full use of the blankets and pillows spread out on the floor.
My chest tightens. This can’t be. No one knows about the notebook. “We told you about the notebook?” I wonder if I’ll be able to swallow my bagel?
He takes a big bite. “Yeah, but you never let me look at it.”
“Well…no.” Obviously. I chomp ferociously for a moment before getting the last of my bite down.
He’s watching me way too closely all of a sudden.
I want to shrink, hide, move, something. “What?”
“You still keep it, don’t you? Your yearly stuff—firsts and all that?” The mischievous look on his face makes my stomach sink.
“That’s a kid thing to do.” I grab the remote, turn on the TV, and take the biggest bagel bite I can fit into my mouth so I don’t have to talk.
“You two still have that notebook.” He chuckles. “I bet your firsts have really started to veer away from things like blanketopia.”
My cheeks redden.
“So, what was your thing this year?”
My eyes fix on the screen. “I told you. We don’t do that.”
“Come on.” His bagel hand rests on his lap. “Please?” He grins, batting his eyelashes, knowing he’s about to get his way.
Crap. “My thing this year was to try out for theater.”
Silence.
His large hand rests on my shoulder. “And you did it. And look what happened. You’re the lead in a production that’s going to be absolutely incredible, in part because of you.” And now Romeo must be bleeding into this conversation because there’s no other way to explain how he’s looking at me. And I must be holding on to some of Juliet; otherwise I wouldn’t be feeling so warm and tingly with his hand on my arm.
I nod. And then the firsts start popping into my head, the ones I’m not supposed to be thinking about—the ones having to do with me suddenly liking Luke’s eyes on me, and the ones with bruises from Shawn. It all just feels spiraling, swimming, drastically out of control.
In thirty minutes we’re sunk low into blanketopia watching some movie from the eighties, and Luke and I are in that comfortable silence that comes with being long-time friends. His head rests on one stack of pillows, mine rests on another.
“I need to stretch out.” I slump down and straighten my legs out toward the TV. He does the same. If it were any other guy this would not be an okay thing to do while dating someone else, but it’s Luke. The guy I’ve known for years. The warmth of his body so close to me is comforting, nice. And with the stress of yesterday, exactly what I need. I must stop using need, Luke, and weekend in the same thought.
I turn slightly to look at him but our eyes meet, sending butterflies into my stomach, which is totally wrong, because it’s just me and Luke and he should NOT be giving me butterflies. Still, I can’t look away. Not from him. Not when his eyes are holding me like this.
I have never felt so naked. Not in the shower. Not for the doctor’s appointment Mom made me go to for birth control, and I don’t know how I feel about it. How I should feel about it. Probably I need to look away because when two people are looking at each other in the way Luke and I are…it’s just not good. I have Shawn.
Our eyes stay locked for another moment before I have to turn back to the movie. Am I seeing or feeling things that aren’t here? Or, are our roles in the play really just starting to mix with real life?
“Thanks for coming over,” I say, keeping my eyes on the TV.
“Thanks for letting me.” His eyes are still on me, and I have to look again. Part of me wishes, right now, that I could just fall. Just like Laura said I should do as Juliet. Only the part of me that wants to fall now isn’t Juliet. It’s Ronnie. I’m a horrible person for thinking this, especially when I already know my future, but Luke is so warm, so easy. His golden-browns are unwavering.
I close my eyes and think about what it feels like to kiss him as Romeo. What would it be like to kiss him as Luke? His fingertips would touch my chin spreading goose bumps and anticipation. He’d be as careful as he is while he’s Romeo, but after our lips brushed a few times, he wouldn’t be as careful. Wow. I’m sunk here.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I can’t let the thought or the imagined feeling of a kiss settle in too deeply, but it all floats in anyway. His cocky Romeo smile, the way our hands feel together, the
way his lips feel on mine, so warm, so sweet…
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I make something that sounds like a strangled half-giggle. This is not something I can think about.
He scoots closer. Our legs touch. “I’m having kind of a crappy weekend. You don’t mind being next to me, do you?” he asks.
I need to scream. Yes! Yes I mind being this close to you! I’m in love with Shawn! This isn’t fair to him! He’s going through so much! “No.” I scoot over until our pillows are together. We’re touching from shoulder to toes.
And even though I slept in this morning, the stress of everything is wearing on me. Touching Luke like this should have me strung up high and tight, but it doesn’t now that we’re together. My body relaxes as the warmth of him seeps in. Luke is easy. The movie continues to play in the background as my lids get heavy. With the warmth of my blanket and Luke, and my massive blanketopia, I drift off to sleep.
My dreams float from the play to the beach. Romeo kisses my forehead and pushes the hair off my face. Then he just walks away. I don’t remember lying down in the play. I don’t know this part. And then the dreams disappear, leaving nothing but blissful blankness. When I wake up, Luke’s gone. The house feels stark and empty—kind of like I’m starting to feel. So hollowed out I’m not sure what’ll replace this empty feeling.
My senior year isn’t supposed to feel this confusing. It’s supposed to be the highlight of high school—me with the boy I’ve loved practically my whole life, enjoying the feeling of being on the edge of something great, amazing, life-changing. But it doesn’t feel like any of those things. It feels like I’m on a tightrope, just doing whatever I can to keep my balance. The problem is that it appears I really suck at it.
~ 12 ~
I WAS BARELY SIXTEEN…
…and his apology changed my world.
Shawn’s mom drove back to visit us for a weekend. She hoped they’d be able to move back sometime over the next year. I think her and my mom conspired on that one for a long time.
As soon as he came in the door his arms were around me, parents forgotten. “Can we talk?”