by Jane Charles
“Hey, what are you doing?” I ask after she answers the phone.
“Studying.”
Kelsey sounds wiped out. “Tough day?”
“You could say that.”
“Want me to grab a pizza on my way over?”
There is silence.
“Kelsey?”
“Tonight’s not good, Alex.”
I’m standing in the middle of the street, ready to go down to the subway to take a train to her place. “I thought we were going to see each other tonight.”
“I’m just really tired.”
Well, she did sound tired. Exhausted and drained, actually.
“I’ll come rub your back, tuck you in.”
Silence again.
“What’s going on?” Worry begins to eat at me.
“I just need to get through this week. Today was tougher than I thought it would be.”
All the more reason to have me come take care of her.
“Rain check?”
“Did something happen?” Something is wrong. It’s in her voice and not just being tired.
“Long day.”
“Let me come over.”
“Not a good idea.” I hear a door slam in the distance. Somewhere in her apartment. “Shelby is on the war path, and Tiffany has joined her.”
“Then we’ll go to my place.” It’s not like I want to be anywhere near those two.
“I just want to go to bed, okay?”
Is she shutting me out? Is she that exhausted? What the hell is going on?
“Kelsey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing! I just want to go to bed.”
Did her voice just crack? Is she crying? “You sound upset.”
“I just want to sleep.” This time she sounds irritable.
I stare down at the phone. “Fine. Talk to you later.”
“Night, Alex.” Then she hangs up, and I’m still standing in the fucking street.
Do I go there and demand she tell me what is going on? We’ve had these plans since Monday. Between her schedule and mine, this was the only time we’d be able to see each other, and she’s cancelling?
I’m not sure if I’m more pissed or worried. I don’t want to go there, bang on her door if she really is going to bed, and have to face that bitch, Shelby. But, my gut is warning me that it’s something else. I get that she’s tired, but it’s more.
I’m not sure I got any sleep last night. My brain wouldn’t shut down, and all I could think about was that every fucking thing I’ve worked for has gone up in smoke. It’s too late to change my career now, and there’s no way I’d get more assistance to pay for college. I am screwed and have no idea what the hell I’m going to do.
Thank God Alex didn’t come over last night. At first I wanted him to. I know he would have made me feel better, but he sounded so tired on the phone. He didn’t say as much but there was weariness there as he asked if he should get a pizza. He is busy, tired from doing tats twelve hours a day and doesn’t need my problems when this is the first chance he has to just relax and hang in days. This weekend, once my finals are out of the way and he has some time off, we’ll talk. Though, I’m not sure why I should bother with my finals. What’s the point if I’m not going to graduate?
Mary’s making coffee. It’s the very first thing she does when she gets up. I’m not even sure she pees first, like the rest of us. She’s addicted. Normally I grab a mug of it to get myself going but the smell just turns my stomach. Just as the idea of any food did last night.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Sure, fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
I just shrug. “Didn’t sleep well.”
“That’s because you’ve been sleeping alone.”
“Well, maybe I’ll fix that this weekend,” I mutter as I head out the door. The last thing I want to talk about is Alex and sleeping with him. That’s exactly what I want and need. To crawl into his arms, rest my head on his shoulder and to be told that everything will be okay. But it’s not going to be, and he’ll want to protect me. Hell, he might take on some of the responsibility, but I’m the one who put myself out there, and I need to figure out how to fix this one my own.
My problems are not his. Especially when things are going so great for him. What made him popular and in demand is about to ruin me completely.
It’s my last final, and all I can do is stare at the test in front of me. I’m reading the questions, over and over, but not comprehending a damn thing.
I know this stuff. I know the answers, or I should, but I can’t concentrate well enough to remember the beginning of the question before I get to the end.
“Get a grip, Kelsey,” I mutter to myself and blink.
I close my eyes, take deep breaths and force myself to relax.
“Don’t be your own worst enemy.” Something that Brandon used to tell me when I was about to give up when we first started reading encyclopedias and I wasn’t understanding the words. He pushed me to learn. Pushed me to read. Pushed me to better myself. If I give up now, with one final to go, I’m letting him down and everything he ever wanted for us.
It’s almost like he patted me on the back. I opened my eyes and read. I comprehend, and I answer, and move on to the next. Tackling each question methodically until I finish with just a few minutes to spare.
After handing in the test, I head to my academic advisor’s office and stick my head in. She just shakes her head. “Give it time. I promise.”
Time that seems to drag on while I wait to find out if anyone wants me.
My fear, nobody will want me. Ever again.
Tears well, but I blink them away. It’s my last shift at the bookstore, and I’m not going to blow it off, even if I just want to curl up in a corner and cry.
Alex calls me a few times, checking in, and I fake cheeriness. I know I won’t see him tonight. He’s scheduled until ten and has to be back tomorrow at nine. He did offer to come over and cuddle, but I insisted he needed his rest and that we’d see each other Saturday night. I just pray I have an answer to my job situation by then because once he sees me, he’ll know something is wrong. I could try and lie or just not say anything, but I’m not an actress. Never have been, and trying to pretend like everything is perfect, even on the phone is fucking exhausting. And, I can’t lie to his face, no matter how much I should just deal with this on my own.
The smell of Italian hits me when I walk in the door. I don’t think I’ve eaten in two days. My stomach grumbles, tightens and then feels like it flips. I need to eat, but will I throw it up afterwards?
Mary is standing at the stove, plate in hand, and scooping spaghetti out. The real thing, and not substitute from a can. “You cooked?”
“No.” She grins. “Mr. Perfect dropped it off and said I could have some.”
“Dylan?”
“Yeah. Said he was afraid you were out of food since there wasn’t much there last time he looked.”
My face heats. The same stuff is in there that was before, except the bread was starting to get moldy. Not that I was going to eat any of it tonight.
“There’s also a basket of garlic bread.” Mary takes a bite and moans. “I am going to make that man marry me.”
“Did you mention it to him when he was here?”
“No. I think I scared him off.”
Mary couldn’t scare a fly. “Why?”
“I was in a towel when I answered the door. I just got out of the shower. His face got all red and he stammered and got out of here as quickly as he could.”
That does not sound like Dylan at all. He didn’t even flinch when Joy walked through the apartment in just her bra.
“I guess I could have put on a robe, but it was Mr. Perfect, and I don’t exactly want to hide anything around him.” Her eyes widen and the smile drops. “Oh My God!”
“What?”
“He’s gay, isn’t he?”
“Haven’t really thought about it.”
&nbs
p; “Cooks, cleans, embarrassed by a near naked girl. Got out of here as fast as he could.” She sets the plate on the counter. “Why are all the hot ones gay?”
“You don’t know that he’s gay.”
“Do you?”
“I have no idea.” I shrug.
“Find out.”
I choke on laugher. “You want me to just go over there and say what, ‘Hey, Dylan, are you gay?’”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything.” I grab a plate from the cupboard and start piling spaghetti and sauce on it. My mouth waters as my stomach relaxes. Mary was just what I needed to get my mind off my dismal future, and she’s too caught up in whether Dylan may or may not be gay to ask questions I don’t want to answer or think about, like Alex would.
“Then ask Alex.”
“No.”
“Please, Kelsey. I’ve got to know.”
“Why is this so important?”
“Because I want him.” She picks her plate up again. “Or to at least fuck him once. And, I need to know if I should be thinking about somebody else when I’m alone in my bed with Mr. Lipstick.”
Mary has never been secretive about the fact that she loves her little lipstick vibrator. I would rather know nothing about it. And I sure as hell don’t want to know she’s thinking about Dylan each time she uses it. He’d probably tell her to make sure it’s sanitized when she’s done and before putting it away for the next time. I practically snort at the image of him standing by her bed giving her the same look he gives his roommates when he wants them to pick up after themselves.
It’s been a week since I’ve seen Kelsey. A full, fucking week. We’ve talked, but it’s not enough. I miss her. I want to cuddle with her. Kiss her and just immerse myself in everything that is Kelsey. I also want to know what the hell is wrong. I know something is up. Her conversations are too guarded, and she’s evasive. She might say it’s nothing, but I don’t believe her. And, I won’t until I look in her eyes.
It can’t all be worrying about finals. Those are done. Over. But, she sounded just as strained when I talked to her earlier. Something is up, and I want to know what the hell it is.
Mary lets me into the apartment, and I go straight into Kelsey’s room, closing the door behind me, with no lingering in the common area.
She’s coming out of her closet and pulling on a sweater and stops when she sees me. I had thought to kiss her, thoroughly, holding her close to my body, but what I see in her face and eyes, cools all desire. “What is wrong?”
Kelsey shakes her head and looks away. “Tough week.”
It’s not exactly a lie. Her face is drawn, eyes dead and there are circles beneath from lack of sleep. Her body is tense.
“Why has it been so tough?”
She still hasn’t looked at me, but grabs some boots and sits on the bed, pulling them on. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
I run through everything in my mind from the moment she walked into my room to get her tat until our last conversation.
She’s shutting me out. I thought we were beyond that.
Is it more. Is she done?
What the hell had happened this week?
“I’d prefer we do.”
She looks up at me. “Can’t we just have an enjoyable day?”
“As if you could enjoy anything,” I grind out.
“Alex, please…”
“Please what? Not care about you? Not want to know what is wrong?”
“I’ll handle it.” She grabs her jacket. “Now let’s go.”
I block the door. “We aren’t going anywhere.” At least not until I have some answers.
“Why are you doing this?”
“You’re the one hiding something, or holding back.”
“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And I am not about to ignore the fact that something has you upset.” I moved closer and grasp her hands. They are as cold as ice. Is she sick?
“Let’s just celebrate your success.” She gives me a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fame looks good on you.”
I don’t return her smile. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Can’t we make tonight about you?”
“It’s never going to be about me. It’s never going to be about you. It’s always going to be about us. And the me wants to know what is going on with the you, so that we can fix it.”
Her eyes water. “Nobody can fix this. Not you, me, we or us.”
My heart sinks. What else can’t be fixed? “Tell me.”
Kelsey takes a deep breath and looks down. “I don’t have a student teaching position anymore. The school saw the segment, and they don’t believe someone like me should be influencing impressionable teens.”
Anger flashes in an instant. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouldn’t yell but I am pissed.
“I wish I were,” she answers in a tired and weak voice. She sits on the bed, dejected. Her shoulders slump. “My academic advisor is trying to find me another high school, but if nobody takes me on, I’m screwed. I’ll never be able to teach without being a student teacher first. I won’t be able to graduate, and every fucking thing I’ve worked for since graduating Baxter will be washed down the drain because I stepped into a room to get a fucking tattoo and let it be filmed.”
“You needed that tattoo.”
“I didn’t need to get it for all the world to see.”
“Are you blaming me or both of us?”
“You?” she glances up. “You were there. I decided to stay. This is all on me. I am supposed to be a teacher. I should have known what would happen. No high schooler is going to respect a teacher after they’ve seen her boobs on a video.”
“It’s not like it was a porn, Kelsey.” I sit down next to her and put my arm around her waist, pulling her close. “And, I know the difference.”
“Doesn’t matter. The powers that be at the school don’t see it that way.”
“They aren’t the only school out there,” I remind her.
“Do you know how many hits that video has?” A tear slips out of the corner of her eye. “I checked, hoping it was a few, but everytime I go back, more and more people have seen it. At this rate, there won’t be a lot of people who haven’t.” Kelsey swipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “Which is awesome for you. You’re soaring in popularity.”
My success has come at a huge price to Kelsey, and I would trade it in a heartbeat. I didn’t need this. I had enough work, as much as I wanted. I didn’t want to be famous. And certainly not at the cost of Kelsey’s dreams being destroyed. If I had had a crystal ball that day, I would have let her walk out, and then none of this would have happened.
But, if I had, she wouldn’t be here with me now. I would have never gotten to know the Kelsey Fry I should have gotten to know when I was a seventeen-year-old dick.
I can about guess what day she found out too. It was either Tuesday or Wednesday. “When were you told?”
“Wednesday.” She sighs.
“And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me?” I am trying so fucking hard not to yell at her. She just kept something huge from me. Not that I could have done anything about it, but I could have been here, for her.
“You have enough to worry about. You added to your hours, lots of new customers. I didn’t want you worrying about me when there isn’t a damn thing you could do about it.”
“I thought we had something, Kelsey? Or, at least building on something.”
“We do! We are!” she insists as tears come to her eyes.
“Then you and I have a different idea of what something is because if this would have happened to me, I would have wanted you around.”
“That’s not it.”
Tears are streaming down her face, and I shouldn’t make her cry, but I am pissed. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to distract you from your work.”
> “Bullshit!”
“I’m telling you the truth. It’s my problem, Alex. Not yours. I’m not going to ruin your day because mine is fucked up.”
Her brown eyes, filled with tears are almost pleading. She really means it, and she doesn’t get it.
“Kelsey, I’m here for you, and I assume you are here for me if I need you.”
“Of course!”
“It can’t be one sided.”
She swipes away her tears. “That’s the problem. I don’t know how to need anyone. To allow myself…I don’t know how not to be alone.”
“Shh.” I pull her into my arms. Kelsey has been doing it on her own, probably from the moment Brandon died. Her words are slowly sinking in, and my anger all but disappears. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have someone. And, I’m not the only someone who will be there in a pinch. I’m just afraid it’s going to take her awhile to get used to it. “Don’t keep anything from me again. Okay?”
She sniffs. “Okay.”
I grab a tissue off her desk and hand it to her. “Now, blow your nose, and then we’ll figure out what we are going to do today.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be much fun to be around.” She grimaces.
“Look at me.”
She lifts her eyes and looks at me through damp lashes.
“If I was only out for fun, I wouldn’t be here, Kelsey. I’m here for you. The good and the bad. I am here for the promise of something.”
Before she can respond, if she planned to, her phone rings and she grabs it, frowning when she looks at the number and then answers.
Her eyes widen, and she sinks into the chair at her desk. “Did they say what they want?”
She’s biting the corner of her bottom lip as she grabs a notebook and jots down a telephone number.
“Okay, I’ll call them. Thanks, Friday.”
Friday? As in Friday Reed? How many Friday’s could there be out there. “What?”
Kelsey just looks at me. Her eyes are confused, stunned. “Brandy’s adoptive parents are trying to get ahold of me. They called the Reeds for my number when they saw the segment. Friday wouldn’t give out the information but promised to pass their number on to me.”