Messed Up

by Owens, Molly

  “I’m sorry,” he said smiling, “I had to stop before we went too far. I want your first time to be perfect, not after a fight like that.”

  I kissed his chest. There it was, I thought, a tiny remnant of the Levi that I had fallen in love with, the one who seemed intent on making me happy, impressing me, “Thanks,” I whispered.

  “I think we need to get out of this house,” he said after a short silence, “I’m going to take you out tonight.”

  “I don’t know Levi, my eye…” my voice trailed off.

  “I’ll take care of that,” he said climbing out of bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and began texting rapidly on his phone, “I happen to know a make-up artist,” he smiled not looking up, “Camille will have you looking back to normal in no time.”

  26

  When I was in the seventh grade I had the biggest curmudgeon of a typing teacher that middle schools had to offer. His name was Mr. Reynolds. He was a stickler for the rules, with no exceptions. After forgetting my typing homework in my locker for the third time he sentenced me to Saturday school. This weekend version of detention was normally reserved for the worst of the worst; kids who were caught smoking by the bridge or who had vandalized their desks with compasses during math class, but certainly not for a straight A student like me.

  I remember walking into the detention room eyeing my fellow misfits, wondering what they were in for, and if they would accept me into their kingdom. I felt like we were in this together, that we could understand each other, if only for that one day. I played scrabble with a kid who had pierced his own tongue during gym class, and mancala with a girl who’d been caught making out with her boyfriend under a table in the computer lab. I got the sense that the others had been to Saturday school before, but they were willing to show me the way, because I was one of them now.

  When Camille arrived at my house that afternoon, I sensed a similar comradely. She walked into my room with authority, “Okay Levi, leave me to it,” she said pushing him from my room.

  He looked at me and shrugged, “I’ll be back in an hour, Chelsea,” then he turned to Camille and said severely, “Watch your mouth.”

  Camille rolled her eyes as Levi left my room.

  She looked at me carefully with appraising eyes, “It’s not so bad actually,” she noted, “I’ve had worse.” I followed Camille into the bathroom. She directed me to sit up on the counter, and I obliged. Opening the large makeup case she’d brought with her, she dabbed her finger in a thick flesh colored paste, “So, how are you holding up?” she asked as she carefully dotted the paste under my eye.

  “I’m okay,” was all I could manage.

  “The first time was the worst for me,” she said stopping to look at me directly, “Not just the pain, but the realization that he wasn’t what I had thought. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. I feel guilty about that,” she sighed.

  “You tried,” I muttered.

  “Not hard enough,” she looked regretfully at me as she brushed my hair to the side, exposing the bandages on my forehead.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered,” I replied, more to myself than to her, “I wouldn’t have believed you.”

  “True,” she conceded, “Probably not,” she began rubbing another thick paste under my eye, “So, what is it he is holding over your head? He must have something. With me it was my sister. She’s fourteen. He convinced me that he would…” she let the end of her sentence drop off as she moved to sit on the counter next to me, “He knew that he could beat me up, but that wouldn’t keep me as helpless as if he threatened her, and of course I knew he meant it. That’s why I feel sorry for you,” she sighed, “I had a pretty good idea about what I was getting myself into with Levi. Of course, I thought it would be different with me, but he’s been in my class since elementary school. There has never been any question in my mind of what he was capable of,” she said bitterly, “It was pure stupidity that led me into to this mess.”

  Camille pushed herself back off the counter and began to work on my makeup again. We were silent for a couple of minutes. I looked at Camille carefully as she applied a thin coat of powder to my face. She was really beautiful. Her features were sharp and flawless. She could have easily been a runway model with her pouty lips and deep dark eyes.

  “Has it changed at all? I mean, since me?” I asked, hoping she would understand what I was getting at.

  “I thought at first when he started seeing you that I would be off the hook. No such luck. It’s a little better, but he still considers me his property. I could never date anyone else. Not that I would. I feel kind of like a used car at this point” she said smiling weakly, but then added, “But just one more year and he’ll be off to whatever East Coast school his dad can bribe his way into.”

  “One more year,” I repeated feeling heavy with the realization that this had only just begun for me. I could feel my eyes well with tears.

  “Hey, don’t cry,” Camille said lightly, “You’ll ruin your makeup.”

  “Isn’t there anyway…” I asked helplessly.

  “Take my advice,” she said applying blush to my cheek bones, “Do your best to grin and bear it. If you fight back, he will only make your life harder,” and then to prove her point she lifted up her shirt to expose her stomach. The left side of her stomach, at her rib cage, was green with a bruise the size of an ostrich egg, “This is what I got for my conversation with Mandy at the mall. And I didn’t even know you were listening.”

  “Oh my God,” I gasped, “I am so sorry Camille,” I realized the bruise was also the size and shape of Levi’s foot.

  “Not your fault,” she said firmly, “Anyway, if there is any consolation to this at least we’re not alone, we have each other now. Camille stepped back, evaluating her work and smiled, “Done.”

  I looked at my reflection in the mirror, my face now appearing completely unblemished, “It’s like it never happened.”

  27

  There are certain activities in my life that are so routine I could do them blind-folded or half asleep, and sometimes I do. Like blow drying my hair, for instance. It’s not that I am thinking about the way I fold big chunks of my brown hair around the brush, running the hot air back and forth against it until it is dry, and then move on to another lock of hair. I just do it, most mornings, without thinking about the process or anything else, really. The same is true of brushing my teeth or unloading the dishwasher, and eventually it became true with the way I spent time with Levi.

  My parents returned home from their great expedition to the Grand Canyon and beyond. They quickly got back into their own work-a-day lives. Neither of them noticed the small scab on my forehead or the slightly darker half moon under my left eye. The only thing that either of them commented on was how clean I had managed to keep the house. This having everything to do with the fact Levi had hired a housecleaner to straighten up before they returned, because, as he said, why do it yourself if you can pay somebody else to do it?

  My days consisted of basically two things: going to work and hanging out with Levi. Any attempt he had made in the past to protect me from the illicit aspects of his life had disappeared that night on the side of a dark dirt road when the real Levi had emerged. A couple times I made plans with friends from Montecito but Levi always convinced me to cancel at the last minute. I found his powers of persuasion to be very effective. “Do you think they even like you Chelsea?” he’d asked, “Have any of them called you once all summer?”

  That was the thing about Levi, besides having seemingly zero problem beating me down physically, he had even less trepidation about making me feel inadequate emotionally. It was as if he was out to prove that he was the only one capable of making me feel good about myself. It had begun to really work too. I felt myself craving his approval as if it were some kind of drug. If he didn’t say I looked beautiful one night, I would begin to feel unattractive. I had a vague recollection of the Chelsea that was self confident, the me who didn’t worry incessantl
y about how I was going to do my hair or make-up so that Levi would like it.

  In fact, I was in the process of changing my outfit for the third time when my mom knocked at my door.

  “Mail call,” she said walking into my room and handing me an envelope, “Your dad and I are going out to dinner tonight, Chels. What are your plans?” she asked flipping through a stack of bills.

  “Levi and I are going to party at Camille’s house,” I replied, slipping out of my jeans and switching into a plaid skirt.

  “Jesus Chelsea! How’d you get that bruise?” my mom asked startling me with her tone. She was looking at a deep purple baseball sized welt on the side of my leg, which I had received two nights ago for forgetting to call Levi after work.

  “I ran into the side of a table,” I responded, quickly pulling up my skirt. This was halfway true, except that I had been thrown into the side of a table.

  “Looks painful,” she commented.

  “Whatever,” I said inspecting myself in the mirror.

  My mom left my room and I slumped down on my bed, frustrated by my clothing situation. The envelope my mom had brought caught my eye from where it sat on my desk. I grabbed it in my hand and studied the typing on the front. There was no return address. I opened it carefully and pulled out the letter it held. My heart jumped as I immediately placed the printing as Conner’s.

  I quickly checked out my window, finding no sign of Levi. I hurried to lock my door, just in case, before sitting on the edge of my bed and reading the letter:

  Dear Chelsea—

  I know I said I wouldn’t contact you, and I swear that I would respect your wishes, if I didn’t know for certain that you were in trouble. I’ve thought about this from every angle, and the only thing that makes any sense is that Levi is keeping you from me. I don’t know why exactly, although I am sure jealously is playing a major role. I know in my heart that he is threatening you with something. Chelsea, you are my best friend. I love you so much and I KNOW you feel the same. There is no way that the person I am in LOVE with would end such an important friendship over a boyfriend. That is not who you are.

  You are also not someone who would run away in the middle of the night, unless you were scared of something. I have been hoping against all odds that that something is not Levi. I want to believe that he is treating you the way you deserve to be treated, with respect and kindness and love. If that were the case, I could let this go, but in my heart I know he has done something terrible to you. Please let me help you.

  Chelsea, you are one my mind constantly, night and day. We will figure this out.

  I love you.

  Conner

  I reread the letter, trying to commit it to memory. I heard Levi’s voice as he greeted my dad in the entryway. I panicked, not knowing where to stash Conner’s letter. I could hear his footsteps on the stairs. I crumpled it into a ball and shoved it into the back of underwear drawer, just as Levi tapped on my door.

  “Hey,” I said opening the door. I watched as Levi’s eyes evaluated me, starting at my feet and moving slowly up to my face. He leaned in to kiss me.

  “How about jeans,” he said, shutting the door behind him and laying back onto my bed. I changed quickly, eager to get out of my room. Somehow the letter seemed to be shouting out for recognition. With every second Levi was in my room the chances of him discovering the crumpled piece of paper seemed to increase exponentially.

  “Ready?” I asked, taking a step toward the door.

  “Nope. Come here,” he replied motioning me to him with a wave of his hand.

  I paused for a fraction of a second before following his orders. I sat down on his lap as he began kissing my neck.

  “Why so nervous,” he asked stopping suddenly and grabbing my hair tightly in his hand.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about Levi,” I said trying desperately to sound casual.

  “I can practically hear your heart beating,” he said suspiciously as he placed his free hand under my shirt and against my chest.

  “Can’t a girl be excited to see her incredibly hot boyfriend,” I smiled broadly. I could feel his hand release my hair.

  “Good answer,” he said pulling me on top of him as he groped at my butt.

  We drove to the party in Levi’s car. I assumed it would be much like every party I’d been dragged to that summer. They were basically a series of rich, drunk kids, doing drugs and destroying their parent’s beautiful, if not overly lavish homes. The one saving grace of this party was that it was at Camille’s house, so she was guaranteed to be there. We had become friends over the past couple of weeks, she made sure to look out for me at these parties, especially when Levi had gotten too drunk or stoned to acknowledge my presence. I knew that Camille and I would not be friends under normal circumstances, but our shared bond of desperation linked us.

  Camille’s house was one of two massive homes that stood on a peak overlooking Santa Juanita. Before I’d ever been to her house or even knew Camille existed, I’d identified her house as one of the eyes on the mountain. From practically anywhere you stood in the city you could see these two homes. At night, when their lights were on, they appeared like eyes of a jack-o-lantern glaring down at the city below.

  The house was in the style of a Tudor home. It reminded me a lot of a doll house my uncle had made for me when I was a kid. It was painted white with dark brown trim and was a solid looking rectangle. Whatever architect had designed it had lacked serious creative vision, that much was for sure.

  Levi entered the front door without bothering to knock. I wondered how many nights he’d walked through that same door, after leaving me. Or maybe he climbed in her window, as he did at my house most nights.

  Many of the parties we’d gone to had consisted of the same group of forty or so kids, that seemed to make up Levi’s circle of friends, but this party was different. It was crowded with people, most seemed younger. They stood around uncomfortably sipping from red keg cups, and laughing weakly. It would have been difficult to maneuver through all the bodies that were squashed together in the entryway had Levi not had the effect of Moses parting the sea as he walked into the crowd. Most of the guys shook his hand or patted his back enthusiastically, while the girls all smiled enormously at him batting their eyelashes. It was almost like he was a celebrity. I grabbed his hand, feeling strangely jealous.

  “Who are all these people,” I wondered aloud, “They look like they belong in middle school.”

  “Close,” Levi smiled at my observation, “Most of the incoming freshman class should be here. You could say this is our little welcoming party.” His tone sounded sardonic, a far cry from hospitable.

  We reached the living room where Levi’s friends lounged on the chairs and sofas, looking something like VIP’s with box seats at a sporting event. Camille spotted us and got up to hug me warmly. Her greeting inspired a couple of the other female counterpart to Levi’s entourage to embrace me as well. It did not go unnoticed that Mandy ignored me completely, her body slung over Calvin in a chair. Noah stood up instantly so that Levi and I could sit down on the couch.

  “Camille,” Levi said, “Get me a beer.”

  “I’ve got it,” I interjected, patting Levi lightly on the leg and standing again.

  “Let me show you where they are Chels,” Camille said grabbing me by the hand and pulling me toward the kitchen. She retrieved a bottle of beer from the restaurant sized refrigerator and handed it to me, “How’s everything,” she asked conspiratorially as I positioned myself on the kitchen counter.

  “Same, I guess,” I shrugged. We went over the details of the past several days that we hadn’t seen each other. Apparently Levi hadn’t made any middle of the night visits to Camille’s for several weeks. I wondered if this turn of events signaled my virgin status was not long for this lifetime.

  “Has Levi told you about what is going to happen tonight?” Camille asked as she began filling her trademark silver flask with a combination of one p
art Redbull to three parts vodka.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, confusion spreading across my face.

  “I guess not,” she took a swig of her concoction, “Try not to let it bother you too much. We all go through it and most of us make it to the other side just fine. This has been going on for decades. Just follow my lead,” she turned away from me, avoiding my eyes as she reentered the living room.

  Levi and his band of followers were all standing around, many of them filing out the backdoor, with freshman boys at their heels. I handed Levi his beer, and he barely acknowledged my presence, but for a slight nod of his head. He whispered something to Camille and they both glanced over at me. “Stick with Camille, okay Punky,” said Levi before kissing my check quickly, and retreating out the backdoor.

  Slowly I became aware that the only people left in the living room were the female counterparts to Levi’s male followers. They looked strange to me without their male equivalents. Camille made her way to the center of the room, pulling me with her. Mandy moved to flank Camille on her other side.

  “Okay bitches,” said Camille in a loud and commanding voice, “Tapping time. Remember one each, and they’d better be cream of the crop or they’ll be dropped stat. Meet me in the clearing in ten.”

  Like ten year olds beginning a scavenger hunt, the girls immediately fanned out into the rest of the party. My eyes followed Mandy who went directly to a thin girl with long straight blond hair and tapped her on the shoulder. She was standing with a group of girls all looking awkwardly at their hands. Her beauty clearly set her apart from her clique, who were generally overweight, greasy haired, and wearing indistinctly out of fashion clothing. A look of dread spread across her face as she followed Mandy out the back door of the house. Her friends, whom she’d left behind, looked pleased and jealous in equal parts.