Borrowed Heart

by Linda Lamberson

  Be strong, I told myself.

  “And,” he continued, “I realize that we only met last week, but I also know enough to realize that there’s something between us, whether you want to admit it or not.”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew he was right. I knew my attraction to him surpassed anything I’d ever felt before—even with Ryan. I also realized that Quinn clearly didn’t shy away from pursuing whatever it was that he wanted. And right now, he wanted me.

  But knowing any of that didn’t help me. None of it mattered. I still loved Ryan, and I couldn’t hurt him. I respected him too much to do that. And I respected the relationship we had built together.

  “Look,” I said curtly as I pulled my arm free from Quinn’s grip, “I don’t know what you think happened between us last Friday night, but let me assure you that you caught me in a weak moment and nothing more. It was a mistake—one that will not be repeated.”

  “Go ahead,” Quinn said. “Keep telling yourself that if you think it’ll help you sleep better at night. But we both know better.” He took a step towards me, eliminating virtually all of the space between us. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He tucked my hair back behind my ear and leaned in even closer. “And I know you can’t stop thinking about me,” he whispered into my ear.

  I could feel the heat building between us like trapped steam ready to explode. I could almost taste his lips on mine, and I had a sudden urge to kiss him. But I didn’t, and neither did he. Instead, he smiled at me smugly, turned, and walked away without even looking back.

  My desire for Quinn immediately turned to rage. I was furious with him for being so pretentious as to dare make these presumptions about me. And I was furious with myself because he was right.

  “Just because you think you know how to get me worked up doesn’t mean that I have feelings for you!” I shouted as he walked away.

  Everyone stopped and turned to look at me, but I was too angry to care. Quinn stopped and turned around as well.

  “Like I said, whatever helps you sleep at night, Evie,” he called out. “Look, I’ll tell you what. I’ll stay out of your way if that’s what you want. But just do me a favor—don’t avoid me in class. I didn’t do anything to deserve being treated like a leper.” He turned back around and walked away.

  * * *

  That night, I dreamt of Quinn and myself at the party. I dreamt of him kissing me, but the dream didn’t end there. Quinn and I were suddenly in my bedroom back home in Michigan and things got pretty heated pretty quickly. Then, out of nowhere, my dream switched gears. I was back in Madame Sasha’s living room, sitting across the table from her.

  “Okay, look, this has gone far enough,” I protested. Even for a bad practical joke, she was taking things way too far. “Why don’t you just give up on the act and let me get out of here.” Still, Madame Sasha wouldn’t release my hands.

  “This is no act, Eve Sanders, or should I say Evie,” Madame Sasha replied, her eyebrows raised.

  I was caught off guard. I hadn’t told her my name. Or had I? No, I could swear I hadn’t. In fact, Emma and I were careful not to say our names because we wanted to test Madame Sasha’s psychic abilities. And we paid in cash, so no identifying information exchanged hands. Maybe Emma let my first name slip, but she certainly wouldn’t have said my last name. I started to get this strange, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Look, I don’t know how you got my name or who paid you to say all of this stuff, but it’s not funny. It’s just twisted and wrong.” My voice started to quiver nervously.

  “The only thing that is twisted and wrong, my dear, is your fate.”

  “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Like I told you, I know more about your future than I want to. And, knowing what I know, it wouldn’t be right for me to let you walk out of my home completely unaware of your ill-fated future if there is even the smallest chance that I can help you break the chain—the Curse.

  “What I do,” Madame Sasha continued, “is not an exact science. I can only see what I see. And right now, I can’t see the third incident. I don’t know when it will occur, other than that it will happen some time before your nineteenth birthday … right around the time you meet your true love.”

  “My true love? Well that’s just ridiculous,” I scoffed. “I’ve already met my true love.” Ryan was everything to me.

  “No, my dear, you haven’t,” Madame Sasha said matter-of-factly.

  I woke up startled, in a cold and clammy sweat. I tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. I just tossed and turned in bed the rest of the night. I knew what I had to do. I had to go see Ryan.

  4. Road Trip

  Because I had gotten a 3.7 grade point average my first semester of college, my parents decided to reward me by allowing me to bring my car back to Bloomington for the remainder of my freshman year. Not surprisingly, as a trade-off for their so-called newfound trust in me, I had to agree to a bunch of new “car rules,” the main one being that I had to ask my parents for permission every time I wanted to drive more than fifty miles outside of Bloomington. Not so coincidentally, Ryan was 175 miles away at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana.

  Bottom line, my parents knew I’d be more than just a little tempted to visit Ryan every chance I got, and they were not about to make it easy for me. They thought Ryan and I were way too serious as it was. They never said it, but I knew they were happy that we had gotten into separate schools. I could still hear my parents’ muffled sighs of relief when they heard the news.

  “Relax, Evie. This is not the end of the world,” my mom had said in a patronizing tone. “Besides, you know what they say: ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’”

  “Mom’s right, Evie,” my dad interjected. “If you two really are meant to be together, spending some time apart won’t matter.”

  But what did they know about long-distance relationships? They had never spent more than a few weeks apart since they met in law school.

  Still, it was pretty decent of my parents to let me take my car back to school; I had to respect them for that. So I decided to play fair for once and try to follow their rules. I’d ask them if I could take the car to Champaign for the weekend, despite my suspicions that they wouldn’t like the idea of my spontaneously planned road trip.

  * * *

  It was eight o’clock, Thursday evening. Nearly a full week had passed since the infamous evening when I had kissed Quinn at the party. Lisa was out on a date with someone she had met at that very party, so I had some privacy. It was now or never. I called my parents. While the phone rang, I mentally ran through my list of arguments and rebuttals in support of my trip to visit Ryan, hoping I had all of my bases covered. I could hear the tension rising on the other end of the line as soon as I mentioned that I wanted to drive to Champaign the following day.

  “Mom,” I started in defensively. “I know what you’re thinking, but I won’t be skipping any classes. I’ll wait to leave until after my last class tomorrow afternoon.” But before I could get another word out, she exploded.

  “Eve. Olivia. Sanders,” my mom said in as stern a voice as she could muster. “How could you think for one minute that your father and I would support such nonsense?”

  How typical, I thought resentfully.

  “The idea of you taking a road trip—alone—in the middle of winter, no less—to Champaign. It’s ludicrous! It’ll be dark before you get halfway there! It’s just too dangerous. And what about your schoolwork?”

  “Mom,” I blurted out, “I’ll be home by Sunday afternoon, leaving me plenty of time to review for my Monday classes. Plus, Rachel is going with me, so I won’t be driving alone.” Okay, that was a little white lie. Rachel had been planning to go with me to visit some high school friends that were attending U of I, but she came down with strep throat and had to cancel on me at the last minute. Rachel was now destined to stay in bed all weekend.

  “Evie,” my
dad started in. “When Mom and I agreed to let you bring the car down to Bloomington, it was for the sole purpose of helping you get around town more easily. It was not so you could traipse around the Midwest and neglect your studies.”

  Crap. I didn’t realize he was also on the line. I cringed. Great, there’s nothing like being double-teamed by lawyers.

  “If we had thought for even a second that you had different ideas brewing in that head of yours, we would never have allowed you to take the car back with you to IU,” my dad continued. “Don’t make us regret our decision.” I could tell that he was annoyed, but his voice remained calm and steady; he was good at that.

  “Mom, Dad, don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little? I haven’t seen Ryan in a month. In fact, I haven’t done anything but study since the semester began!” Okay, so that was another little white lie. School was never all that difficult for me, and it didn’t take much effort for me to maintain my GPA. But I was losing ground quickly and was grasping at straws.

  “Look, I’m eighteen,” I continued. “Legally, I’m an adult. I’m getting good grades, I’m not behind in my schoolwork, and … and I shouldn’t have to justify myself to you two when it comes to me wanting to visit my boyfriend. What is so wrong with me wanting to see Ryan?” I heard my voice crack as my temper began to flare.

  My efforts were futile. My parents’ decision had been final the second I’d opened my mouth. They forbade me to drive to Champaign, reiterating that it was unsafe for two young women to take a road trip at night in the dead of winter. Then they reminded me that it was still their car. For added impact, my parents threw in several not-so-subtle threats to personally come down to Bloomington and repossess and sell my beloved car if I disobeyed them.

  “Thanks for being so understanding!” I was fuming. “You know what? I don’t really care what you say! I’m going anyway!” I shouted into the phone right before I hung up on them. My hands were trembling out of sheer anger.

  “Nice going. Way to deliver an argument, Evie. Very effective,” I muttered to myself. I’m sure my mother and father were just as happy with me. In fact, I’m sure they were so thrilled they were probably heading to Bloomington right then to prove that their threats were by no means idle.

  The phone rang a few times, but I didn’t pick it up. Then my cell phone rang, but I didn’t bother to check the caller ID. I knew my parents were calling to make some last-ditch effort to try to reason with me and talk me out of going to Champaign. But my mind was made up. I would smooth over this episode with them later. Somehow, I always managed to do so.

  I had no idea why I felt the need to go through the stupid charade of asking them for their permission in the first place. Sure, they were my parents. I didn’t always agree with them, but part of me felt like I should at least try to listen to their advice once in a while—in bits and pieces anyway.

  Still, I was an adult now. I didn’t live under their roof anymore. It was time I started paying more attention to my own advice. I should’ve just driven to Champaign without telling my parents. They never would’ve been the wiser. I knew how to cover my tracks well enough. And if my parents had found out about the trip after the fact, I would have dealt with it then. As was often the case with them, it was better to ask them for their forgiveness than for their permission.

  But there was something else about this trip that was gnawing at me—I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. I wanted my parents to know I was going to Champaign. I had felt anxious the minute I’d decided to take this road trip, and it had nothing to do with my need to come clean with Ryan. Something else was amiss; I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

  I was used to paying close attention to the uncomfortable feeling I’d occasionally get deep within the recesses of my stomach, lurking like a monster in the shadows. I learned to be careful whenever this monster reared its ugly head. But, this time, I chose to ignore the nausea that was slowly creeping up into my chest, making the hair on my arms and neck stand up on end. Instinctively, my fingers found their way to the silver chain around my neck, tracing down the length of it until I felt the charm hanging at the bottom.

  I made up my mind. I am going to see Ryan tomorrow.

  * * *

  I woke up the next morning with a renewed sense of purpose. I would get through the day and leave for Champaign that afternoon. Initially, I’d debated skipping psych class, but I knew that would only serve to feed Quinn’s already-inflated ego, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. No, I had something else special in mind for him this morning.

  I walked into class with barely a minute to spare. Quinn and his friends were seated in their usual spots. As always, the seat next to Quinn was empty.

  Perfect, I thought. I climbed the center aisle stairs towards the back of the lecture hall and sat down in the available seat next to him.

  “Good morning,” I said cheerfully. The look on Quinn’s face was priceless. He was surprised at my bold gesture—pleasantly so—but surprised nonetheless.

  It’s my turn to catch you off guard, I laughed to myself.

  “Good morning,” he said hesitantly, his eyes full of suspicion.

  I scanned the room. I usually sat in the first or second row, and sitting back another couple dozen rows gave me a completely different vantage point of the large room, one that I wasn’t particularly fond of at the moment. All of the girls, and several of the guys, had turned around to stare at me, wondering why the sudden change of classroom geography from my seat up front to a seat next to him.

  “So what did I do to deserve the honor of your visit way up here in the nosebleed section this morning?” Quinn asked, as if reading everyone’s minds.

  “As I recall,” I noted, “you recently accused me of avoiding you, so I’m making it clear that I’m not.”

  “Well,” Quinn chuckled, “I had no idea I would be in for the VIP treatment.” I could tell he still had no idea what I was up to, but he seemed more than willing to go along for the ride.

  “I could move back to my old seat if my sitting here makes you uncomfortable.”

  “No, no,” he responded quickly. “This is fine. So, tell me, does this change of attitude of yours include seeing me outside of class too—like this weekend?” Quinn was testing me.

  “Afraid not,” I replied. “I’m going to Champaign this afternoon to spend the weekend with Ryan.” That is, if he’ll still have me. My stomach rolled over, and I fought off a wave of anxiety.

  “Oh, the boyfriend.” He sounded thoroughly amused—not exactly the reaction I was expecting. “Are you going to tell him about us?”

  “Quinn, there is no us.”

  “Ah, so you’re not going to tell him.” He grinned.

  “Draw whatever conclusions you like, but I’m not about to tell you what I plan to say or do with Ryan this weekend.”

  Quinn’s body stiffened; he grimaced slightly. I could only imagine the images of me with another guy running through his head.

  “Is something bothering you?” I asked, feigning sympathy.

  “No,” he said through gritted teeth, “why would the thought of you with some other guy bother me?” He kept looking straight ahead with his jaw clenched. He was jealous … And much to my surprise, I liked it.

  Professor Swain entered the lecture hall late and a little winded; he must have been running. He started the lecture immediately, but that didn’t stop Quinn from continuing our conversation.

  “So how are you getting to Champaign?” He asked quietly, keeping his eyes forward.

  “I’m driving,” I whispered.

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Evie,” Quinn turned to look at me, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea—you on the road alone. What if the roads are icy? What if something happens to you?” I wasn’t sure if he was genuinely concerned about my safety or merely trying to rattle me so I’d think twice about going on my trip.

  “I think I’ll be okay, Dad.” I r
olled my eyes.

  “I’m serious, Evie,” he said with a furrowed brow.

  “Look, my car is reliable, I’m not driving at night, I have a cell phone, and—” I shook my head and smiled foolishly, “and, quite frankly, I don’t really know why I’m explaining any of this to you.”

  “If you two are finished, I’d like to be able to continue my lecture uninterrupted,” Swain barked. I immediately looked at our professor and then around the lecture hall to discover that all eyes were on us. I felt the blood flooding my cheeks; my ears were burning. Larry and Curly were cracking up on the other side of Quinn.

  “Sorry,” Quinn and I mumbled in unison.

  Even though we’d stopped talking, I could see out of the corner of my eye that Quinn was itching to continue with his line of twenty questions. Not wanting to get in trouble again, I tried to concentrate on the lecture, taking notes to distract me. It only took about two minutes for Quinn to lean in towards me and pick up where we left off.

  “Can this guy really make you feel the way I made you feel the other night?” he whispered.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I replied, flustered.

  “So he doesn’t,” he declared victoriously in a little louder voice, smiling from ear-to-ear. Someone a few rows ahead of us shushed him.

  “That’s not what I said,” I whispered angrily.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  Quinn had an irritating way of twisting my words, interpreting them to hear only what he wanted to hear.

  “Ryan and I have been together for a long time. We have more than just a physical connection. We love each other. We respect each other. We’re best friends. And, FYI, Ryan makes me feel just fine.”

  “I’m pretty sure I made you feel better than just fine last Friday night.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re impossible? Do you always hear only what you want to hear?”