Tell Me How This Ends

by Victoria De La O

  She touches my cheek and nods.

  I pull her up and take her to my bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light. I slide her dress all the way off, and she’s so damn pretty it hurts.

  In typical Lizzie fashion, she straightens her spine. But I’m relieved to see her lips tremble a little. I don’t want to be the only one who’s nervous.

  “It’s been a long while,” she says, pulling me to her, as though she’s made up her mind and is determined to see it through.

  The thing about Lizzie is, I know she’s going to be generous in bed, because she’s that way in life. She doesn’t disappoint. Her hands roam my body and her mouth follows. She enjoys it all, too, which makes me lose my breath. But I want more.

  I’ve had sex with girls before, but it was always about fumbling around, trying to figure out enough so I didn’t make an ass of myself. And it was about getting off. With Lizzie, I want to discover things with her and make her shine. I want to memorize her—learn her like you learn two plus two, until it’s ingrained. So I run my hands down her sides and find out that tickles her. She’s self-conscious about her stomach, because she puts her hand there as I try to nuzzle it. And kissing her knees and her neck gets her so hot that she begs. I try to chart every nook and cranny of her landscape, but the need inside me is so, so strong.

  “Talk to me,” she says. “I want to hear you.”

  “You’re so beautiful,” I say as I enter her. “I’ve never wanted anything like I want you.”

  She starts to shake as I talk, and the feel of that makes speaking impossible. I close my eyes and take her. I absorb the pleasure she’s feeling, until it’s inside me. I let myself climb all the way up, and fall all the way down.

  We lie together afterward, making sure to stay entwined. She runs her finger over the tattoo near my hip, which has the words “Ella Jane” inside a heart. Mom would have loved Lizzie.

  As I drift to sleep, I realize I didn’t stutter once while Lizzie was in my arms.

  CHAPTER 7

  Jude

  I head out for dinner and drinks with a couple guys from work. I stay out longer than I should, so there’s no chance I’ll have to meet Ryan’s girl. I’m being a dick to Ryan—I know that—but how can I explain something to him I don’t understand myself? How do you say, “I met some smart-mouthed girl. I kissed her a few times, but I’m not good enough for her, and now everything seems like shit.”

  If Ryan said this to me, I’d slap him upside the head. Only kids believe in love at first sight. And I know what I’m feeling isn’t love, exactly. It’s more like I’m missing something I didn’t even know I wanted. Watching Ryan glow from getting that very thing feels like hell.

  When I get home, Ryan’s door is closed and it’s quiet, so I guess he’s gone to bed. Thank God I can delay that particular conversation until tomorrow.

  I’ve never begrudged Ryan anything, and it doesn’t sit right with me that I’m doing that now. All I’ve ever wanted is for him to be happy. So I’m glad he’s with someone who appreciates him. I laugh picturing the type of girl he’s likely to be hooking up with—probably the shy, brainy type who likes to debate politics and movies. Ryan is always coming home and trying to embroil me in a debate about something he read online. Now he’ll have someone else to do that with.

  I lie on my bed and put my earbuds in. An EDM playlist drowns out my thoughts, but it starts to make my head ache. I turn on some ambient music instead and let my mind wander.

  Ryan falls so hard and fast, without giving a damn what’s at the bottom. How does he have the balls to do that? Why isn’t he terrified? Having a real girlfriend is unimaginable to me, let alone being married or having kids. I’m glad that Ryan is so happy, but I can’t help but wonder why I’m so fucked up.

  Women. I was perfectly comfortable with my dysfunction before Ryan met his girl, and I met Elizabeth.

  I can’t sleep, so I head to the kitchen. I don’t bother to turn on the lights, because the dark doesn’t scare me. Most of the terrifying things in life happen in the daylight.

  Ryan must be up, too, because I see light coming from the kitchen. Sometimes we meet like this in the middle of the night and eat a snack. I make the PB&J, and he pours the milk.

  There is someone standing at the faucet but it’s not Ryan, and my brain takes an extra couple seconds to compute what I’m seeing. Elizabeth is there, her back turned to me, her face in profile. Her hair is messy and long, and she’s wearing a shirt that comes to midthigh. She turns around and sees me. Her mouth and eyes go wide, but she doesn’t scream, like a silent movie actress.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, which doesn’t make sense to me at first. Then I see she’s wearing Ryan’s Panic! at the Disco T-shirt. My brain has apparently been dormant for the past two minutes, because suddenly, it chugs to life. My synapses fire, and I make connections, and I know that this is the girl my brother has just fucked, and even worse, has fallen for.

  I can’t help it: I start to laugh. I laugh so hard that my eyes water, and I slide against the cabinets to the floor. She walks around the counter and stands in front of me. I stare at her legs, which are long and smooth. She crouches down, pulling her—Ryan’s—T-shirt down so I don’t see anything essential on the way.

  “Stop it,” she says, looking at me like I’m crazy.

  “Guess it’s going well with college boy,” I say, taking in her bedhead. “You definitely picked the better brother.”

  “Oh, my God,” She covers her mouth, and I feel like a bully, but I can’t care.

  I remember the time when I was ten and I wanted to go to baseball camp. Ry was six and Mom wanted him to see a speech therapist over the summer. She couldn’t afford both. She explained to me that we were a team and we all had to make sacrifices for each other. Even then I was crazy about Ry, and after a couple days, I was okay with it. It wasn’t Mom’s fault that five years later she’d be dead and I’d be doing nothing but sacrificing.

  But it sure as hell has to be somebody’s fault. The woman standing in front of me is proof that whatever higher power is out there has a sick fucking sense of humor.

  I stand up and steady myself on the counter.

  “You don’t need to worry, Elizabeth. We can pretend this never happened. Tomorrow, Ryan will introduce us, and I’ll shake your hand and say I’m pleased to meet you.”

  My chest feels tight, so I rub my hand over it. I remember I’m standing here in just my boxer briefs.

  She homes in on the tattoo of my mom’s name—the one Ryan and I got together. She starts shaking her head, back and forth, like she’s pushing the image away.

  “You don’t understand yet, do you?” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  “What’s to understand? I’m not going to do anything to ruin your big romance.” The words feel dirty coming out of my mouth.

  “So, what then? We’ll hang out at the house here with Ryan, like we’re friends?” She crosses her arms and steps back from me. “You’re going to sleep next door to where Ryan and I are having sex?” At this, she lifts her chin. “I can’t do this. I can’t lie and pretend I never met you.”

  She turns and runs back to Ryan’s room. I follow her, but she closes the door, and I don’t want to wake Ryan. A few minutes later, she comes out wearing a dress, her purse slung over one shoulder. She pushes right past me and heads out the door.

  After all these years of making sure Ryan finished high school, working my ass off so he could go to college, and beating the fuck out of Miles Rogers because he made fun of Ryan’s stutter, I have screwed up my brother’s happiness. I don’t take pleasure in the fact that this proves what I was trying to tell Elizabeth: No one’s well-being should be dependent on me.

  Elizabeth

  The human body is a giant puzzle. The brain sends its signals throughout the body, bending it to its will. It keeps your lungs breathing and your heart pumping. But the heart and the lungs supply the brain with the blood and oxygen it
needs to survive. It’s a beautifully intricate, symbiotic system.

  I’m sitting here in Psychiatric and Mental Health Theory, finding joy in the conundrum that is the human brain. I’ve always loved a good puzzle. When I read a mystery, I know who did it by the end of the third chapter. Give me clues about my Christmas present, and I’m going to know what you got me. Which is why, after my initial shock at seeing Jude in Ryan’s house, it took a nanosecond for my brain to figure out the equation. Me plus Ryan plus Jude equals disaster. As Jude once told me, there is only one way for this to end.

  I know what it means to have brothers. My older brother was my protector, and I practically raised my three younger ones. The bond Jude and Ryan share is even closer, and I consider it sacred. I won’t be the wedge that drives them apart. Of this, I’m damn sure.

  But my own behavior and feelings are indecipherable, and knowing something and doing something are worlds apart. Like a coward, I’m avoiding Ryan. He has texted and called, no doubt wondering why I bolted in the middle of the night. I know he assumes the worst—that our night together meant nothing. The thought of that finally forced me to text him to let him know I got home okay and that I would call him soon. I know it’s not enough. I know I owe him so much more. Still, I skip class the next day so I don’t have to see him. I ignore his texts.

  Instead, I call my brother Jeff, because I need to hear his voice.

  “How’s it going baby girl?” he says, and that’s enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  Jeff has never liked to hear me cry. When I was a kid, he treated me like a boy, which made me tougher. When I did cry, though, he would get really upset and try to comfort me. You would think I would have used that against him, but it had the opposite effect. I never use tears as a weapon against a guy.

  I can hear the concern in his voice when he says, “Tell me who I have to kill.”

  “It’s not like that. I fell for someone. Two someones. It’s complicated.”

  I start from the beginning and tell Jeff everything, because I need his advice.

  “Don’t play around with them, Lizzie. Ryan sounds like a good guy. Are you sure you can’t put his brother aside? You don’t even know him, and he sounds like kind of a jerk.”

  “I already did. But the pull Jude and I feel toward each other is strong. It’s like we’ve known each other before, or for a long time, or something. I can’t explain it.”

  “Lord, Lizzie, I’m so glad not to be a girl. What kind of sense does that make?”

  I put my hand in my hair and pull. “I know. But the bottom line is, he and I can’t see each other every day and not have there be consequences. I don’t feel good lying to Ryan.”

  “So why not tell him? Let him decide if it’s too weird.”

  “I don’t want to do anything to cause problems between them.”

  “It’s too late for that. And it’s not your fault. Maybe you’re not giving Ryan enough credit to see that.”

  “Would you be cool with this?”

  Jeff takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh. “Probably not. But either way, you’re going to have to face up to this. Remember what I told you about self-defense. If you can’t run from it, turn around and fight it with all you got. Same is true here.”

  Three years ago, Jeff got his girlfriend, Lacey, pregnant. He decided he would marry her, of course. With our family, there could be no other choice. My parents were upset at first, but they quickly got excited by the idea of a wedding and a grandchild. Then Lacey lost the baby. When I went to talk to Jeff the night it happened, he was slightly drunk and almost incoherent with grief. He was devastated about the baby. But he said he was crying because he was ashamed at the relief he felt when he heard the news. All I could do was hold him and tell him what a good man he was. What a good father he’d be someday.

  Afterward, Lacey’s parents and mine tried to force him to marry her anyway. I have never been prouder of Jeff than when he refused. How easy it would have been for him to let the stream carry him—to do what everyone around him wanted—even though he knew it was a mistake. So I know that when Jeff speaks, he is worth listening to.

  I feel a longing for home in my gut. “I miss you so much.”

  “We miss you, baby girl. Come home as soon as you can. And Lizzie, you’ve always been a good judge of character. You’ll make the right decision.”

  His words give me courage and eliminate my excuses.

  Ryan

  The call is from Lizzie, and I don’t want to answer. This isn’t going to go well for me.

  I spent all of yesterday walking around in a haze. When I woke up, Lizzie and Jude were both gone. There was a split second where I wasn’t worried, until I remembered I had driven her to my house. And there was no note. I wandered through school and work worrying about her and then wondering where I went wrong. It’s hard for me to believe that Lizzie was in this for a one-night hookup. She said she wanted more, which means I disappointed her or did something that drove her away. Maybe I’m too dull for a girl like Lizzie, who wants to expand her horizons.

  Today, however, I’m angry. I didn’t think Lizzie was the type to fuck around with me, but I haven’t heard a word from her, other than that lame text yesterday. When she didn’t come to class, I knew something was seriously wrong. I was furious that she left me worrying and wondering. Guess she’s going to put me out of my misery.

  I answer the phone and our hellos are awkward as hell. My head starts to hurt, so I rub my temple.

  “I’m so sorry I haven’t called,” she says.

  I can tell she’s upset, but I don’t let myself feel anything. She should be sorry.

  “W-what the fuck, Lizzie? How did you even g-get home?”

  “I called Sam, and she came and got me.”

  “I don’t w-want to do this over the phone. Can you come over? No one’s here b-but me.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “D-d-dammit Lizzie, it’s o-obvious you’re going to bail on me. I at least deserve to have that conversation f-f-face-to-face.”

  She agrees to come over, which makes me feel pathetic. I should have let her get it over with over the phone. But I want to see her one last time before she crushes me.

  When she arrives, Lizzie seems torn up. She’s like a beautiful Greek heroine—her hair streaming down her back in golden waves. But her eyes are red, like she’s been crying. I stare at her, mesmerized, not knowing what to say.

  I try to hold on to my dignity, but I can’t. “W-w-was it that bad?”

  She sucks her lips in, like she’s firming her resolve. “No. It meant so much to me. I haven’t trusted anyone in such a long time.”

  “Did I d-do something wrong?”

  “Please don’t think that.”

  “W-what am I supposed to th-think?” I’m raising my voice now, and I can feel my control slipping. “Y-y-you d-didn’t even w-w-w . . . Shit!”

  I’m surprised by the force of my feelings—by the way she already matters to me. It’s just so seldom that something you wish for exceeds your expectations.

  She comes to me and tries to put her hands on my shoulders, but I pull back, humiliated.

  “Our night was perfect. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I study her face to see if she’s being honest. “Then w-why, Lizzie?” She won’t look me in the eye. “You p-promised me you’d always be straight with m-me.”

  She nods and then takes a deep breath.

  “That night, I got up because I was thirsty. I was half asleep and I didn’t think anyone else was here. While I was at the sink, your brother came in.”

  “I was going to introduce you t-two, but he was out that night.”

  “Yeah. But it turns out I already know him. I met Jude through Megan—the night that I asked you to be my tutor.”

  “What?” My stomach feels hollow and sick, and I don’t want to hear any more, but I know I have to. All my life, I’ve come in second to Jude. I’ve never let it bother me,
but this time it will. Because really, what girl wouldn’t pick him over me?

  “We . . .” She shakes her head.

  “What are you t-trying to say? D-Did you sleep together?” I can’t bear to hear the answer. I’m sure I paled in comparison. I want to throw up.

  “No! There was an attraction, and we flirted. And we kissed. That’s it. I told him there was someone else, and that was the end of it. But when I saw him in the kitchen, I realized this could get messy. And I don’t want to cause friction between you. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

  Lizzie gives me time to absorb this. I can’t believe this is happening. Then again, it makes some twisted amount of sense that Jude and I would be attracted to the same damn girl.

  How is he feeling about all of this? The stupid bastard has been conspicuously absent, as though he can ignore it. I think back on the past few weeks, and a very gratifying thought comes.

  “Y-you were the girl who chose someone else.”

  “What?”

  “He told m-me about you,” I say with a smirk.

  She collapses on the sofa and puts her head in her hands. “Why the heck are you smiling?”

  “You ch-chose me.”

  “Yes.”

  I delight in this thought for another minute, and then I sit down next to her and lean my head back. “He doesn’t ever g-get hung up on girls. B-but he was upset about losing you. Were you as u-upset about him?”

  She’s quiet for a minute, which serves me right for asking the question. “I don’t want to answer that.”

  “M-might as well get it all out there now.” I take her hand, and she lets me.

  “We were drawn to each other. I don’t know why. There’s something sad about him that pulls me in. But he wouldn’t be good for me.”

  She’s more observant than I realized.

  “S-so I was just the safer ch-choice?”

  She shakes her head no emphatically. I can’t help it; I reach out and touch her. The moment stretches and expands, and I feel her trying to tell me something without words. I lean in and kiss her, because what else can I do? I don’t even care if it’s the last time. I need her now. She kisses me back, and it’s soft and trusting, and I see what she’s trying to say. There is so much beauty in safety and warmth. In comfort and kindness. There’s desire there between us, too. God knows on my end it’s intense. She may not think it’s volcanic, but I bet she’d at least say it’s a slow, strong boil. And that’s not too shabby.