Trying Not To Love You

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Trying Not To Love You Page 12

by Amabile Giusti


  ‘Let’s take a taxi,’ Marcus said when they got outside.

  ‘I don’t have enough money,’ Penny said, annoyed.

  ‘Let’s call it my treat.’

  ‘And to what do I owe this generosity?’

  ‘I hate taking buses. It’s bad enough we have to go where we’re going.’

  ‘Look, I’m not forcing you, OK? If you want to back out, we can go back to being enemies, like before.’

  ‘And deprive myself of the pleasure of being your date for these idiots? No, I really must insist,’ he said.

  They reached a busier street, near the Maraja. Without saying anything nice to her – or indeed anything at all – Marcus stuck close by her side, unlike all the nights he walked her home from work, when he was always a few paces ahead of her, turning back to glance at her as if she were of little more interest than the average garden snail. They finally managed to hail a taxi and gave the address to the driver, who exclaimed, ‘Friends in high places, huh?’ He caught sight of Marcus’s stony gaze in the mirror and kept his mouth shut after that.

  They were quiet throughout the ride. With his hostile expression and square jaw, Marcus looked like some tattooed assassin. It would have seemed entirely natural to wonder if he was hiding a long-barrelled .357 revolver under his coat.

  Shortly before arriving, Penny felt so oppressed by the continuing silence that she held her breath for a moment, before saying quietly so the driver couldn’t hear, ‘Listen, I don’t know what I did wrong the other night. If I offended you by asking about that ring, then I’m sorry and I won’t ask again, and if you really don’t want anything more to do with me, we can stop talking to each other as of tomorrow, but just for tonight, you need to do what I ask. If you want the two hundred and fifty dollars, you have to earn them, OK? You need to look like a gorgeous tough guy, but you also need to be nice to me. You have to make them jealous of me and the amazing sex we have all the time, and make them think that I have something way better than some rich boyfriend. You get me?’

  In the darkness, Marcus’s eyes gleamed like onyx. ‘Well, I certainly have the biggest dick,’ he said coldly and dispassionately, as if contemplating some objective truth.

  ‘I know, I’ve seen it – remember? – but that’s not the point here. The point is that you have to pretend to be stupid in love with me, or – if that’s too much for you – at least pretend to be attracted to me, you know? They have to see us together and think I’m the luckiest girl alive.’

  The taxi stopped; they had arrived. Around them stretched a residential neighbourhood with pristine sidewalks, colonial-style mansions and expansive lawns. A whole other planet from where Penny lived. For a moment she was afraid of making a wrong move or that such a distant world from her own could somehow contaminate her – or worse, make her go back in time to when she was an angry and miserable sixteen-year-old. So, as Marcus paid the driver and got out of the car, she remained inside, almost paralysed in her seat, in her stupid old vintage dress.

  But then Marcus leaned in and whispered something in Penny’s ear that gave her an unexpected burst of courage. ‘Your wish is my command. Those bitches are gonna wish they could be you.’

  The place was more of a palace than a house, and was already packed with people. From outside, Penny could hear music and the hum of voices. Her heart was racing as if it might burst. Marcus took her small hand in his giant paw.

  ‘Listen, you’re not sixteen anymore – fuck the lot of them,’ he said angrily.

  Penny nodded but wasn’t convinced. Inside, she shuddered with alternating waves of fear and rage.

  Rebecca opened the door, together with her much-vaunted boyfriend, and Penny felt the first pang of victory of the evening – and of her life – over her former classmate and torturer.

  Not only was she an underfed fake beauty, all dyed-blonde hair and a set of equally fake coal-black eyelashes, but her man also was faux-handsome – a thirty-year-old dressed in the latest fashion, with slumped shoulders and protruding ears. All right, together they may have given off the air of wealth from their hair down to their shoes, but in reality they were grotesque and morbid figures, polished but full of a fat lot of zero.

  As soon as they saw Marcus, they both recoiled as if there had been an explosion. Rebecca’s eyes widened as if she’d been struck by lightning. Her boyfriend, Tucker, flinched and grew pale. Penny wondered if he had been bullied as a child. But then they immediately recovered their cool, simulated, perfect smiles, shook Penny and Marcus’s hands and showed them in.

  For Penny it was like being plunged straight back into her past. Everyone was there – with or without dates, but eager to share tales of their successes. There was Gaya, the smart one, who had graduated from Yale; Robert, the rebel, who had stopped rebelling and now worked in his father’s business; Jessica, the slut, who had given everyone blowjobs in the bathrooms and was studying to become a lawyer; and Igor, who kept his distance but stared at Marcus with ill-concealed suspicion.

  Just about everyone was staring at Marcus, in fact, with varying degrees of curiosity. He spoke little, like tough guys tend to do, but he never let go of Penny’s hand, like a man staking his territory. Feeling him this close thrilled her to the core, and he played his role to the max. Al Pacino at the very height of his career could not have done better himself. Marcus didn’t deviate in any way from his normal self – there was no sweetness nor smiles, nothing out of tune with his general impassive demeanour – but when Nickelback’s ‘Trying Not to Love You’ came on the sound system, he slipped an arm around her waist and swept her away to dance with the other couples. He held her so close that his body felt like an extension of her own, and Penny learned the true meaning of the word ‘torment’. Any former classmate choosing to study her closely right then would have had no doubt as to the all-consuming passion she clearly felt for her date. He made her feel small but aroused, utterly helpless but also like she could take on the whole world, scandalously eager and yet terrified in the face of all that desire.

  ‘Don’t crush me, okay?’ she whispered as they danced.

  Marcus bent down a little and muttered into her ear, ‘If you want them to drink the Kool-Aid, you have to let me touch you – I don’t write poetry when I like a woman, I just put my hands all over her.’

  ‘That’s fine, but . . .’

  ‘I’ll stop if it bothers you.’

  It doesn’t bother me one little bit – the problem is I like it, a lot.

  ‘I get it, but if you keep this up, we’re gonna have quadruplets in nine months’ time,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  He chuckled a little. ‘I guess I’m gonna have to give you a lesson on just how babies are made.’

  ‘I don’t need any lessons from you.’

  ‘Well, start acting like you do, because your bitchy friend is coming over.’

  At that moment, Penny heard Rebecca’s voice nearby.

  ‘My darlings!’ she exclaimed, in the condescending tones of a First Lady greeting factory workers on a press tour. ‘We’re going to play spin the bottle. Care to join?’

  They soon found themselves sitting on the floor in a circle like thirteen-year-olds, the only difference being that the bottle wasn’t Coca-Cola but Möet & Chandon. Marcus stuck out among them like a redwood in a flower garden.

  The rules seemed to be a little different from usual. The person chosen by the first spin of the bottle could either ask a question or pass on their turn to someone else. Penny and Marcus sat side by side and managed for a while to get away without being chosen. They witnessed a flurry of indiscreet questions, and penalties like kisses, groping breasts to feel for implants, pants dropped to show boxers or briefs, and all kinds of other nonsense. Suddenly, the champagne bottle picked Rebecca and then Marcus. The bitch was too clever to beg him to stick his tongue in her mouth in front of everyone, even though it was obvious she was dying for him to do so. Tucker wasn’t playing; he had disappeared into another room, but Reb
ecca was still too shrewd to risk offending him. With a smile designed to look both soft and inviting, she asked Marcus, ‘What exactly do you feel for Penny?’

  Penny shook like the proverbial house of straw built by the three little pigs. Marcus on the other hand didn’t waver for a moment. He locked eyes with Rebecca and said loud and clear for everyone to hear, ‘I’m crazy about her and want to fuck her all day and all night. That what you wanted?’

  Penny’s cheeks grew as flushed as Rebecca’s, though for different reasons. Penny was utterly stunned at this apparent revelation, while Rebecca, behind her inexhaustible smile, looked ready to blow her top in fury.

  The game continued with more questions and ridiculous penalties, until this time the bottle pointed to Igor, and then Penny.

  Igor, who was seated directly opposite her in the circle and hadn’t stopped staring at her all evening, declared defiantly, ‘I want a kiss.’ He also eyed Marcus – who, sitting next to Penny with one hand on her knee, glared back at him with steel in his eyes. Everyone applauded, except for Rebecca, who seemed on the verge of a panic attack. Igor crawled on hands and knees towards Penny, across the circle of friends, who were laughing and egging him on.

  ‘Only if you want to,’ he told her when he was close enough.

  Penny thought back to when she was sixteen and would have given anything for a kiss from Igor – or even the smallest sign that he had registered her very existence. Then she noticed Rebecca’s look, as if the storm clouds were brewing, as if the evening wasn’t going at all to plan, and suddenly a shudder of sheer joy shot through Penny’s soul at the idea of causing her maximum grief. These days, Igor’s lips weren’t half as appealing as they had been when she was sixteen, but in any case she gave her consent.

  Igor’s eyes shone bright.

  But both of them had overlooked one tiny detail.

  As Igor leaned over and Penny offered up her innocent mouth, Marcus casually shoved his rival away with one arm, while in the same gesture pulling Penny close to kiss her.

  This was no brief or superficial kiss. It was deep, so deep – an invasion of her mouth, a battle with her tongue. Penny’s body felt as soft as cotton and as hot as molten lava. There was a buzz of voices from somewhere distant, but in that moment life had otherwise stopped, and she could see and hear nothing else, could not possibly want for anything more, might even have let out a small groan in front of everyone. This was no ordinary, everyday kiss. Marcus had penetrated her very being in an intense act of love.

  Except that Penny knew it wasn’t true love. She knew all too well that Marcus was only playing the part of a possessive boyfriend refusing to risk humiliation or defeat at the hands of another man. She knew he didn’t give a damn about her, that he’d only kissed her like he’d kissed a million other women – and he would never kiss her like he must kiss Francisca, with his tongue but also his soul, but tonight she was just fine with that.

  When they finally pulled apart – as unfortunately, they eventually had to – Penny realised that absolutely everyone in the room was staring at them, even Tucker, who had appeared from somewhere with a stupid little grin on his face, as if he had been drinking his head off until that moment.

  And finally Rebecca, unable to bear the fact that she hadn’t been the centre of attention, declared the game over.

  Penny was the last to move. She was still feeling dazed after what had just happened.

  Marcus pulled her to her feet. When they were standing face to face, albeit at different heights, he said scathingly, ‘I’m really earning those two hundred and fifty dollars, don’t you think?’

  ‘If it’s that difficult, then stop trying so hard. No one asked you for an Oscar-worthy performance.’

  ‘As long as you’re with me, you’ll avoid rubbing yourself up against that guy. My woman doesn’t let another man put his tongue in her mouth.’

  ‘I’m not rubbing myself against anyone! And I’m not your woman!’

  ‘As far as they’re concerned you are. Your bitchy blonde friend thinks you are. No one touches what’s mine, period, but we can drop the act right here and now if you want, so you can go fuck your friend without making me look like a jerk. He’s been staring at you all night like a kid in a candy shop.’

  Penny’s eyes widened. ‘What do you . . . ?’ she sputtered. ‘You’re so . . .’

  ‘Vulgar? Rude? Crude?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘I’ve never been a fucking prince, little lady, and anyway, you just loved kissing this vulgar guy right here.’

  ‘That’s not true! I had to put on my best . . . acting . . .’

  He drew closer, like a tiger stalking its prey. ‘C’mon, Penny, you liked it all right, and it’s useless to pretend otherwise, but let me tell you, you kiss back like someone who hasn’t had much practice. That romantic boyfriend of yours preferred to watch TV, did he?’

  Penny stared at him mutinously. She was just about to reply in defence of her imaginary lost love’s sexual prowess when Rebecca re-entered the room.

  ‘Oh my gosh, you just can’t keep your hands off each other, can you!’ she exclaimed in a tone of false amusement. Then, ‘Your boyfriend can manage five minutes without you, can’t he?’ she asked Penny loudly. ‘We’re going to have some girl time.’

  Rebecca dragged Penny upstairs to one of the many bathrooms in the house. In front of the largest jade-framed mirror Penny had ever seen, Rebecca finally dropped her mask.

  ‘OK, Penny, who is this man? Some paid escort?’

  Penny ordered her cheeks not to burn and her voice not to waver. She could not give in and confess that yes, the coolest guy in the room was not her boyfriend at all, that although he wasn’t an escort in the strictest sense, he did come at a price.

  ‘How dare you?’ she replied in horror.

  ‘Look, it’s just not possible for someone like him to want someone like you! Have you seen yourself?’

  ‘What do you mean, it’s not possible? We have a special bond between us, something you and your moron of a fiancé will never grasp, because the only thing you two have in common is money.’

  Rebecca let out a nasal, treacherous laugh. ‘And what binds you exactly?’ she asked. ‘Come on, let’s hear it . . .’

  Penny stood up as tall as she could, summoning all her courage, then pushed Rebecca back as she made a run for the bathroom door. A moment before exiting, she declared haughtily, ‘Love with a capital L. A deep kind of love – the kind you’ll never experience.’

  After leaving the bathroom, Penny shut herself in one of the bedrooms. She had to wait until her breathing went back to normal. Her face was burning, her hands were shaking and her legs had turned to water. Rebecca was mean and clever. She was sure to go and spread doubt among the other women, and then they’d all be laughing at Penny behind her back for the umpteenth time.

  Penny realised she had entered a large, luxurious master bedroom, belonging perhaps to Tucker’s parents. She looked at herself in the full-length oval mirror supported on a pedestal in the shape of a lion, that was possibly even cast from pure gold. There she saw a pathetic-looking girl, persecuted for years by a coven of witches with silky ponytails instead of brooms, who had insulted her because she came from humble beginnings, took the bus to school, always wore the same shoes and was not even particularly good at anything. She hadn’t excelled in any particular subject, the boys didn’t notice her, and above all, she hadn’t suffered their harassment in silence. She’d reacted by expressing her hatred in return, staring them right in the face without dropping her gaze, and whenever possible she had practised acts of subtle revenge. Once, they had locked her in a dark closet, hoping she would beg them to let her out, but Penny hadn’t screamed, begged or even cried. Instead she had waited in silence for the janitor to find her by chance and let her out, and by then it was so late that she’d missed the last bus and had to walk all the way home. Only God knew how afraid she’d been in that small dark space. She had wanted to be s
ick, to pass out, to crawl out of her own skin, but she had not given them the satisfaction of her tears and her despair. A few days after that, however, the cheerleaders’ uniforms were stolen and later found in tatters in the schoolyard.

  Revenge had always made her feel better, but not this time. No one could ever believe that Marcus was her boyfriend. It was all too clearly an act. Couples like Penny and Marcus didn’t exist in the real world, where men like Marcus ended up with women like Francisca, and in the meantime fucked almost everyone else – including the Rebecca type – but certainly not someone like Penny Miller.

  She sighed, falling back on the king-sized bed with its pearly-white wooden canopy and bronze-coloured silk bedspread.

  At that moment she heard a knock at the door. Fearing it was the lady of the house – even though she’d have no reason to knock if it were – Penny jumped to her feet, even redder and more uncomfortable than before. She was just coming up with possible excuses when Igor walked in.

  ‘I was looking for you,’ he said with a smile. ‘I saw you come up here with that bitch and then I saw her come down by herself. Everything all right?’

  Penny nodded mechanically and sat back down on the bed.

  ‘Did she make you cry? Your eyes . . .’ Igor went on.

  ‘Nobody makes me cry.’

  ‘I know – I’ve always admired that about you – but you look upset.’

  ‘When did you ever admire me?’ exclaimed Penny.

  ‘Back in school – you were tough, and even though I have no proof and can’t begin to imagine how you did it, I’m sure it was you who wrecked Rebecca’s brand-new phone. How did you manage to get it into the toilet in the boys’ bathroom?’

  Penny shook her head. ‘Even if it was me, I wouldn’t tell you. You were always her accomplice.’

  ‘That’s not true – I was just there. I never participated in her bullshit.’

 

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