Auctioned to Him_Damage

by Charlotte Byrd

“Oh she’s just one of the people I work with. She’s quite impressive actually. She graduated from NYU’s Stern School of Business last year. She worked at Young’s for three summers while she was in college before they hired her. She’s really driven.”

  I shrug and nod. Suddenly, I get a strange feeling about the whole thing. Like the existence of Kathryn will play a significant role in the events that are about to take place.

  The next afternoon, I walk into the one class that I’m really excited about taking this semester: Victorian Literature. I can’t believe that I have actually been going around calling myself an English major and I have never read Pride and Prejudice or anything by Charles Dickens. That’s one of the reasons I’m so excited about the class. I’m sure that it will fix all of my literary shortcomings.

  “Hey!” Tea says, sitting down in the seat next to mine with a big, wide smile across her face.

  I’m just as happy to see her.

  “I was hoping you’d be in this class,” I say.

  Tea and I met last semester. After a few awkward weeks when she and Tristan were sort of dating and Tristan was refusing to define their relationship or be exclusive, Tea and I developed quite a friendship.

  “You look really good,” I say, looking her up and down. Tea has always had a gorgeous face, the kind that would have Renaissance painters swooning. But now, she’s even more radiant.

  “Thanks for noticing.” She blushes. “I lost 23 pounds. I’m a size 12 now.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing.” I smile. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I haven’t been a size 12 since 9th grade.”

  I nod. Tea is one of those beautiful big women who you’d never know was unhappy with her weight. While I have a tendency to slouch, she always stands up straight.

  “I do feel like I lost it all in my boobs though.” She laughs, grabbing her 36 DDs.

  “What inspired you to do all this?” I ask.

  “I got home from school in December, stepped on the scale, and discovered that I was 198 pounds. That’s almost 200! I’ve never been so heavy in my whole life. So I knew that I had to do something about it. And quick.”

  I look at her body a little closer. Her waistline is more defined. And her breasts are perky and sit higher on her body than they used to. Her eyes don’t look so tired anymore either. And even her skin has a kind of glow to it. Though the last two things could really be because it’s the first week of the new semester, not finals week. I’m sure that my eyes aren’t that tired right now either.

  “Oh. I have more news!” she whispers as the professor introduces herself and passes out the syllabus.

  “I’m dating someone now!” she says with a little shriek at the end.

  “Who?”

  “This guy. His name is Tanner. He’s a grad student in architecture.”

  I’m so happy for her. She’s a really good girl and she deserves to find someone who could appreciate her for her.

  “What about you? You seeing anyone special?” she asks.

  My heart jumps into my throat. I should’ve expected this question, but for some reason I didn’t.

  I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect to talk about Tristan. This is the only thing that’s weird in our relationship. I like Tea a lot. And I know that we can even be closer than we are now. Except that there’s Tristan. Guys always get in the way.

  I mouth “later,” and pretend that I’m listening to what the professor has to say. I don’t want to answer her question. I don’t know how she’ll react, but I know that it will be a defining moment. If she’s upset, we probably won’t be friends. No matter how hard I try. If she doesn’t care, then we’ll be okay.

  The professor is giving an introduction about Charles Dickens. The importance of Oliver Twist for his society and how that book redefined the way the society thought about poverty and child labor and workhouses. It’s fascinating. Don’t get me wrong. But I can’t quiet my mind. It keeps going back to Tea’s question. All I can think about is how I’m going to tell Tea about Tristan, and whether I even should. I mean, I could lie. I could pretend that everything’s fine. That we’re just friends. I’m sure that I can even get Tristan to go along with it. He wouldn’t really care either way. But then what would we have? Would we really be friends if I’m hiding this big part of my life from her?

  By the end of class, I come to a decision. Yes. I’m going to tell her. It’s better to just tell the truth. I don’t know if she would find out either way, but at least we would be friends for the right reasons then. And if we won’t be friends, that’s fine too. I mean, it was Tea who dumped him for not wanting to commit to being her boyfriend. And she does have a new boyfriend now. Maybe it will all work out. Or maybe not. I’m starting to waver…

  Class ends and my decision isn’t as steadfast as it was a few minutes ago. Shit. I take a deep breath and tell her the truth.

  “Tristan? You’re seeing Tristan?”

  I nod and shrug my shoulders. I look away from her. I don’t want to see her reaction, in case it’s bad.

  “Oh wow, that’s cool,” she says. I hear a little awkwardness in her voice, but that’s to be expected, I guess.

  “I hope that’s okay,” I say. I don’t mean for it to come out as if I’m asking her permission. That’s not what I mean.

  “Oh, yes of course. I mean, we’re not together. And in comparison to you two, we barely dated at all! And he wouldn’t even call whatever we had dating. So it’s nothing.”

  I finally look at her face, straight on. She’s telling the truth. I can see by the way her face is hiding nothing. And better yet, she seems to be genuinely happy for me. The tension at the back of my neck dissipates immediately. I take a big sigh of relief.

  “I’m glad you’re okay with this,” I say.

  “Yes, definitely.” She grins.

  “I just wasn’t sure how you would react and I didn’t want us to lose this…our friendship. It means a lot to me.”

  Tea smiles from ear to ear.

  “No, of course not. No matter what, we’re not going to let a guy come in between us,” she says.

  “No, of course not.” I shake my head.

  “Well, let’s hang out sometime,” she says. “Okay?”

  “Okay.” I nod. “I’d love that.”

  Lots of people make plans to see each other soon without really meaning it. It’s just the nice thing to do. I’ve done it myself a million times. But this feels different. I know that we both mean it.

  5

  The second week of school goes by just as quickly as the first. A little too quickly, actually. I have to make my first speech that Friday. The toast. And I don’t want the day to come. I’ve been thinking about it for days but once the Monday before rolls around, I feel myself getting terrified. But on Monday, I’m still able to manage the fear. I try to deal with it by convincing myself that it’ll be okay. And on Monday, I believe it. Unfortunately, by Wednesday, all of my arguments stop working. And I just feel like I’m going to have a heart attack every time that I think about it, which is practically all day long.

  On Wednesday, I decide that I need some practice. Maybe saying the words out loud will make me feel a little better. I stand up in front of the mirror. I look down at the notes that I wrote down. But can’t read a thing. When I open my mouth, my voice shakes. Supposedly, I memorized the words earlier. Or I thought I did. But now that I have to speak out loud, just to myself, nothing comes to mind. I can’t even remember how I planned on starting.

  And the worst thing about all of this is that Tristan is nowhere to be found! He had promised me that we would practice together. He promised me this originally at lunch and cancelled on me all weekend. We made plans on Saturday and then Sunday and then Monday night. By the time it was Tuesday, I didn’t bother making plans anymore. He came home late that night, around 9 pm, and said that he had a ton of Macroeconomics to catch up on.

  Come to think of it, I haven’t even seen him since Wednesday m
orning, when we waited for our pop tarts to toast together. Agh, what makes me so mad is that he had promised that he would practice with me, help me. And now it’s 9:30 pm on Thursday, and he’s still not back. And he is yet to help me once! I’m angry and mad and disappointed all at once. But mostly, I’m scared. The speech is tomorrow and I have nothing.

  “Dylan, I think I’m going to have a heart attack,” I say, coming out of my room into the living room. Dylan’s playing something on the Xbox. Without looking up, he asks what’s wrong and I give him the highlights.

  “You’ll do fine,” he says, finally putting the controller down. I watch him as he walks to the refrigerator and gets a soda.

  Why does everyone say that when they don’t even know what’s going on? There’s NO way I’m going to do fine. People who freeze and can’t say a word out loud don’t do fine in public speaking classes!

  I shake my head. “No way,” I say.

  “Well, you were going to do it with Tristan, right? So why not me?” he asks.

  “Because…there’s like a million reasons why not,” I say.

  “Name one,” he challenges me.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “But this is worse than being naked. In fact, I think I’d rather be naked with someone than do this.”

  “Oh really?” His eyes light up in a mischievous way. “Well, then, we can arrange that.”

  “Agh, you’re a pig.” I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “Okay, okay, I get it.”

  “The thing is that I’m terrified. I can’t do it.” I shrug.

  “But you were going to do it with Tristan?” he asks.

  “I said I would. But I’m not sure I actually would have gone through with it. I think I was just going to try.”

  “Well, why don’t you try for me?” Dylan asks. “I’ll help you. I’m great at speeches.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” I say.

  “I know right?” He laughs. “My dad says that I’m the king of bullshitting. That’s why he wants me to go to law school.”

  “Wow, that’s a great reflection on this country’s legal system,” I say.

  “Eh, I guess,” he says, unfazed. “I’m actually thinking of doing it. Seriously.”

  “Wow, that is like the most honest, non-bullshitty conversation I think we’ve ever had,” I say.

  “First time for everything,” he says sarcastically.

  “So what’s keeping you back?” I ask. “From actually pursuing the path to law school?”

  “Well, for one, there’s no real path. I mean, I can major in whatever and I won’t be taking the LSAT until my junior year,” he says. “But what’s really keeping me from it is that I know it’ll make my dad happy. And that’s the last thing I want.”

  I smile. The moment has passed. Sincerity is out of the window. Now the real Dylan’s back.

  “Okay, enough stalling,” he says. “I want to hear this toast.”

  Dammit. I open my crumpled piece of paper. Clear my throat. As soon as my eyes drop down to the first line, at the top, my heart starts to pound loudly. Suddenly, it’s the only thing that I can hear in my head. I try to ignore it. I open my mouth. But nothing comes out. My throat is dry, like a desert. I feel like I haven’t drunk a drop of liquid in days.

  “Okay, okay,” Dylan says, cutting off my suffering. He takes the paper out of my hand.

  “Alice, look at me. Why are you so scared?” he asks. He’s staring straight into my eyes.

  “I have no idea,” I whisper.

  “Do you think I’m going to laugh at you? Mock you? Heckle you?” Dylan asks.

  No, of course not. I shake my head. He waits for me to reply.

  “I have no idea,” I mumble.

  “Well, I’m not going to do any of those things. I’m here just to sit and listen and clap.”

  Something about someone even listening scares the crap out of me.

  “I hope not too attentively,” I say with a shrug.

  “Why do you think that you’re so unimportant?” Dylan asks.

  There’s clarity in his voice, the kind that only appears when you hit upon the truth. I guess a big part of me does think that I’m unimportant. I mean, I don’t even want anyone to hear what I have to say. That’s pretty pathetic.

  “Okay, how about this?” Dylan changes tactics. “There are freshman in this class, right?”

  I nod.

  “Well, then they probably don’t even care what you have to say. They’re going to be checking their phones. Barely look up at you, let alone actually listen to you.”

  “The thought of that does make me feel a lot better,” I say with a little sigh of relief. But quickly old fears creep in and whatever mild feeling of apathy I managed to scrounge up disappears.

  “Okay, I don’t feel better anymore. Just as scared as before,” I tell him.

  “This is crazy,” Dylan says with a smile. He shakes his head. I can see that he’s perplexed by this whole thing. “I didn’t know anyone could be in such bad shape,” he says, shaking his head. “Okay, let’s forget about this for a little bit.”

  Dylan puts my pitiful, crumpled, and used up speech on the kitchen counter.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. “Are you giving up on me? No, you can’t!”

  Panic sets in. If he gives up on me then I have no one.

  “No, I’m not giving up on you,” Dylan shakes his head. “We just need a break.”

  He opens the fridge and hands me a beer.

  “No, I can’t drink now,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m too freaked out by all this.”

  “You have to. You’re psyching yourself out. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “But I have this speech tomorrow. I need to figure out a way to get through it,” I say.

  “And you will. But for now, you need to relax. And not freak out so much. Clear your head.”

  Despite my better judgment, I end up having two beers. We watch Watch What Happens Live and play a drinking game along with Andy Cohen. I’m a real lightweight when it comes to drinking and even one drink gets me tipsy. So, after two, I’m nice and buzzed. My muscles loosen, my shoulders let up, and most importantly, my mind finally quiets down. I’m finally able to think in complete sentences – my thoughts are no longer running like crazy.

  During a commercial break, Dylan hands me my speech.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, laughing. He doesn’t say a word, just nudges it toward me.

  At first, I pick up the paper as a joke. I laugh a little. I look down at my hands. I expect them to shake just like they did before, but they’re steady. I read the words. Much to my surprise, they all make sense. No thoughts of failure and disappointment trickle in. Instead, I feel a distinct sense of apathy. I don’t really care what Dylan thinks of what I have to say. It’s pretty good and that’s enough for me. Whatever he thinks can’t hurt me.

  I start off by reading the first line. When it comes out right, I go on to the next. And the next. By the end of the first paragraph, I’m talking in a normal speaking voice. I’m even pausing for effect and looking up at Dylan to see if he’s paying attention. By the time I’m close to the end, whatever jitters I had are all gone. But not because I’m done speaking. But because I just don’t particularly care what Dylan thinks.

  “Awesome!” Dylan says, clapping his hands after I finish. “That was amazing. You were amazing!”

  “Wow.” I shake my head. For a moment, I have an out of body experience. I don’t feel like it was actually me who spoke up there.

  “See, you can do this!” Dylan says, giving me a warm hug. “You just need to get out of your own way. Not think about the process so much. Let yourself go.”

  6

  The following afternoon, I arrive to public speaking class early. I’ve had two beers the hour before. It’s undeniable – I feel lose and confident and a little apathetic (and that’s a good thing, according to Dylan). But I also feel guilty. A big part of me, the on
e I try to suppress with all of my might, thinks this is cheating. I need to go into this cold or not at all. But I know what’s going to happen if I go in cold. If I couldn’t do it in front of Dylan, there’s no way I’m going to be able to do it in front of a room of strangers and Professor Milner.

  I need to get this over with, I say to myself. The sooner the better. So when Professor Milner asks for volunteers, I raise my hand. Without two beers in me, I would never volunteer for this. Instead, I would pray that I wouldn’t be called on next and if time runs out in class, I would take a big sigh of relief and then fret and worry about this for another week. But now, I’m different. I’m braver. Bolder. Not so afraid.

  I go up to the podium. A class of thirty or so bored kids stare back at me. Professor Milner gives me a nod of encouragement. The girl in the front row types frantically on the phone. I can do this, I say to myself.

  “Okay, everyone,” I start. My voice is confident, self-assured. Just how it was last night. “Can I have your attention please?” I say. I’m giving a toast, and I pretend that I’m holding a glass in my left hand.

  “I’d like to take this opportunity and congratulate Dylan and Peyton on their upcoming wedding. I’ve known Dylan for many years, ever since he was my roommate freshman year in college. Over the years, we grew up, changed, but one thing remained the same, steadfast: his love for Peyton. Anyone who knows them knows that they’ve had their share of breakups, but instead of letting that tear them apart, each breakup somehow made them stronger. I’ve had the privilege of knowing this couple for many years now and I know that they have loved each other for many, many years. Ever since high school. How many of us can say that we met the love of our lives in high school? Not many, that’s for sure. So, let’s put our glasses up in honor of this blessed union. I love you both.”

  When I’m done, everyone in the class claps. I’m stunned. I still can’t believe that I actually did that – spoke out loud for a significant amount of time in front of a group of people. Did this really happen or am I going to wake up any minute now and realize that I still have to do the speech in a few hours?