Going Under

by S. Walden

  Ryan thought for a moment.

  “Do you think the things I do to you are solely for your pleasure?” he asked.

  I was dumbfounded.

  “I’m not looking for things to be even between us, Brooke,” Ryan said after a moment. “I’m looking for them to be right.”

  I didn’t think I understood the definition of selflessness until that moment. It was too heavenly. No one was that good. And for the first time, I wondered about Ryan’s secret sins.

  ***

  I didn’t want Cal to pick me up at my house. I didn’t want my father to see. I didn’t want Ryan rolling down the sidewalk on his skateboard to see. I wasn’t even sure why I was going on this date. After my last afternoon with Ryan, I thought my entire world shifted. My entire purpose. I no longer cared about revenge and guilt and victims. I cared about being with a boy who was nice to me, who treated me like I was the most important person in his life. A boy who made me laugh, talk my head off, say silly embarrassing things, come like an exploding star.

  I even thought I could paint again. I had not picked up my brush since trying to paint the fall leaves. But I thought I could do it now. And I thought it could be good enough to hang in a gallery and fetch thousands of dollars. I decided this weekend to spend time with Ryan, to fill up on his goodness, and to paint.

  I wanted to meet Cal at the bowling alley. I told him about the change of plans at school, and I waited until the end of the day to do it. He wasn’t happy about it. He told me that guys were supposed to pick up girls for dates.

  “Really?” I asked. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “It’s common knowledge, Brooke,” Cal said, completely missing my sarcasm. “I can’t even take this date seriously if you don’t let me pick you up.”

  “I’d just rather make it more casual the first time,” I said, feeling myself getting backed into a corner. He was insistent.

  “No,” Cal replied. “Look, I’m not a text guy or a ‘Go Dutch’ guy. I’m not an ‘I’ll just meet you there’ kind of guy. I’m old school, Brooke. I pick up a girl. I take her out. I pay for it. And then I call her the next day, not text her. I call her to see if she had a nice time.”

  Suddenly he was Prince Charming.

  I fidgeted uncomfortably.

  “Stop fidgeting, Brooke,” Cal said. “You’re a grown-ass woman. Start acting like one and let me pick you up.”

  “I am acting like one!” I cried.

  “Good. Then I’ll be at your door at seven.”

  I stood in the living room peering out the window every three seconds. As soon as I saw Cal pull up, I’d sprint out the door before he could make it up the walkway. I should have just explained to Dad that I was going on a few dates with different boys to see which one “fit.” That way he wouldn’t wonder about Ryan. But it sounded like something a college girl would do. High schoolers didn’t date around. We were in committed relationships, even if they only lasted two weeks at a time.

  “Brooke! Get in here!” Dad called from the kitchen.

  “I’m waiting for my ride, Dad,” I called back.

  “Get in here now!”

  I hadn’t heard my dad talk to me like that since I let our dog go outside to potty without a leash. I was ten years old. I thought Poppy could handle it. She was always so good. Well-behaved. Plus, I was in the middle of painting my fingernails. I couldn’t run the risk of messing up my nails by putting on her leash. Well, she ran away and never came back. Dad lit into me and told me I could forget about ever having another dog because I was too self-absorbed. I cried for a week.

  I was reluctant to leave the window, but I knew better than to keep Dad waiting. I sprinted to the kitchen.

  “Yes, Daddy?” I asked.

  “Don’t ‘Daddy’ me,” he snapped. “What the hell is this?” he asked holding up a bill.

  “I don’t know,” I replied.

  “It’s our cell phone bill,” he said. “Now, do you want to tell me what all these charges are about?”

  “What charges?”

  “God, Brooklyn! This is a five hundred dollar bill! Who the hell have you been talking to? How much data can you possibly use in a month? You got your GPS permanently on? Are you texting while you drive? Surfing the web in class?”

  “Dad, take it easy,” I said. “I barely use my phone.” It was the dumbest lie I’d ever told, and the bill proved it.

  Dad looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Give it to me.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your phone, Brooke. Give it to me.”

  “Dad!”

  “I’m serious. You’re done. No phone for . . . a month!”

  “What the fu—”

  “Go ahead and say it,” Dad warned. “I’ll make it a year.”

  “Dad!! You’re being unreasonable! And anyway, I have a date tonight. I need it to get in touch with you!”

  “A date? With Ryan? I don’t think so. You talk to him enough on the phone,” he said, waving the bill in my face.

  “It’s not with Ryan,” I said. “It’s with some other dude.”

  “What happened to Ryan? I thought you were in love with Ryan,” Dad said.

  “I am so not discussing this with you!”

  “Well guess what, missy? I’m the parent here. I get to know what you’re doing, where you’re going, and who you’re going with. So I guess you so will be discussing this with me. Now hand it over.”

  “No!”

  “Brooklyn, hand over that damn phone.”

  “Dad, I cannot survive without my cell phone. Please. You don’t understand. I need it.”

  “What the hell is happening to kids these days?” Dad lamented.

  “Dad, please. I’ll pay the cell phone bill. I’ve got enough to pay it. More than enough,” I pleaded.

  Dad looked at me and sighed. “I don’t want you to use all your money to pay this bill, Brooke. I want you to be responsible. Ever heard of it? Responsibility?”

  I nodded my head vigorously.

  “I want you to save your money,” Dad continued. “And stop texting so damn much.”

  “Do I really text that much?” I asked, grabbing the bill and scanning the charges.

  “Yes!”

  “I’m really sorry, Dad. I am. Maybe I need to change my plan.”

  “Maybe you need to stop using that thing like a lifeline. Go do your painting or something. Read a book, Brooke. Go to the park. Disconnect for Christ’s sake.”

  “You’re right, Dad. Absolutely. I hear you one hundred percent.”

  “Oh, stop humoring me. That’s more infuriating than this bill.” Dad rubbed his forehead. “Now tell me who this guy is.”

  “Gross. You really want to know?” I asked.

  “If you’re spending the evening with him and he’s driving you, you bet I do,” Dad replied.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, but I have to tell you really fast because he’ll be here any minute.”

  Dad nodded.

  “He’s some dude at school who knows Ryan likes me and is trying to get me to like him, so he asked me out on a date, and I agreed just to get it over with. I figured after tonight he won’t be too interested in me anymore.”

  “What, you plan on throwing the date?” Dad asked.

  “Sort of,” I replied. That was another lie. I had no plans to throw this date. I was going to be my charming, sweet, good girl self. I was going to make Cal burn with jealousy after tonight.

  “Does Ryan know you’re going on a date with this guy?” Dad asked.

  “No, and I don’t want him to ever find out. I’m just doing it so this guy will get off my back. Do you understand?”

  “You think this is a good idea? I can just tell whoever this is that you’re not interested. I can say it while I’m holding my gun,” Dad offered.

  “No! No, Dad. I can handle it. Just please don’t tell Ryan about any of this.”

  “I think this kind of deception got you in trouble in the past, Brooke.” />
  Bullet to the heart, and Dad wasn’t even holding his gun.

  “I’m not judging. I’m just saying that you seem to carry around a lot of guilt. I mean, is this the only way to show this guy you’re not interested in him? Does he not understand that ‘no’ means ‘no’?”

  How could I possibly explain to my dad that I was actually doing this for Beth? That I was doing it to repent for my sins, to clear the guilt? I realized the date seemed convoluted to Dad, but I could never in a million years tell him the real reason. If I did, Cal would be dead in a puddle of blood on our front porch.

  “Trust me, Dad. You know how people learn differently? Some are visual learners? Some are auditory learners? Some are hands-on?”

  Dad nodded, the side of his mouth turning up in a grin.

  “Well, this Cal dude is definitely not an auditory learner. That’s why ‘no’ doesn’t work. He’s a hands-on kind of guy. So I’m going to let him take me bowling, and then he’ll see why I’m the last person in the world he wants to date.”

  Dad’s face sported a full smile now. I think I made him proud in that moment.

  “You’re not going to let him put his hands on you, are you?”

  “Gross, Dad.”

  “Well, you’re telling me he’s a hands-on kind of guy. He puts them on you and he’s dead.”

  “Dad, relax. I didn’t mean ‘hands-on’ that way,” I said.

  He grunted and tossed the cell phone bill on the kitchen table. Just then the doorbell rang, and I kissed him goodbye.

  “Can’t I meet him?” Dad asked.

  “No,” I said. “I’m taking my cell phone. And I’ll call you before I come home.”

  “You have a curfew, you know,” Dad said.

  “I do? This is new.”

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Yeah, you do. Now what’s the standard curfew for a girl your age?” Dad asked.

  “Are you for real? You know, I didn’t think for a second you’d actually make me hand over my phone,” I said, walking to the front door.

  “Give me an hour, Brooke!” Dad called, still standing in the kitchen.

  “One!” I called back.

  “Nope! Try again!”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle. “I didn’t come home from that party with Gretchen until one!”

  “Yeah, and that’s the last time for that!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Midnight!”

  “Still not happy!”

  “Dad, oh my God!” I yelled, opening the door. “Eleven!”

  “Better! I love you! Be safe!”

  “I love you, too!” I called, pushing Cal out of the way.

  “Shouldn’t I meet your dad or whatever,” he asked, following me down the walkway.

  “Another time,” I said.

  Oh. My. God.

  I wasn’t told about the double date, and neither was Gretchen evidently. We stared at one another shocked, and then excused ourselves to the bathroom.

  “What are you doing here with Parker?” I hissed.

  “What are you doing here with that guy?” she shot back. “What happened to Ryan?”

  I hated lying to Gretchen. She could always see through the lies, but she never called me out on them. She just waited until I finally caved and told the truth. I think it was satisfying for her, watching me squirm for minutes or days or however long it took before I finally came clean.

  “I can’t tell you, Gretchen, but I don’t like Cal, and I think I’m completely falling in love with Ryan and if you mess this up for me I’ll—”

  “Relax,” Gretchen said. “But you’ve gotta do better than that. We’re not leaving this bathroom until you tell me why you’re on a date with him.”

  “Me? What about you? Why are you on a date with Parker? I told you he’s a dick.”

  “Yeah? Well I wanted to find out for myself. He was really nice at the party, and I want to get to know him better.”

  How on earth could I tell Gretchen that I thought Parker was a rapist? How could I tell her that I knew Cal was? I was trapped. It was as simple as that. I had to come clean. I had to tell her what I was doing.

  “Okay, Gretchen? I will tell you everything that’s going on. I swear to God I will. But we’ve got to get through this date first.”

  Gretchen nodded.

  “Which means we have to walk out of this bathroom acting normal,” I explained.

  “Totally.”

  “Now, you’re gonna see me flirting with Cal and acting like a little good girl, okay?” I said. “Just go with it. Don’t mention anything about me going to Hanover High last year. Don’t mention anything about anyone from my past. And especially don’t mention Beth.”

  “Huh?” Gretchen immediately looked concerned.

  “Please, Gretchen. I’m begging you. Just go along with my flirting and sweet girl persona and don’t mention anything about my past.”

  “What if they ask?”

  “Just say we know each other from ballet. We used to take ballet together and stayed friends.”

  Gretchen nodded. “I feel super weird right now.”

  “No you don’t,” I said. I couldn’t hide the panic in my voice. “You don’t feel weird at all. We’re gonna bowl. It’s gonna be great. And we know each other from ballet.”

  “Got it. Ballet.”

  We emerged from the bathroom giggling because I said we needed to and approached the waiting boys.

  “We’ve got shoes and balls,” Cal said, and Gretchen burst out laughing. I couldn’t help but grin.

  “That’s what we hope,” Gretchen said, and Parker’s face broke out in a grin as well.

  Cal smirked and handed me my size 6 shoes and the ten-pound ball I asked for.

  “Now how should we do this?” he asked the group as we made our way to Lane 7.

  “You mean teams?” I asked. “I thought I’d be with you.” I sat beside Gretchen as we pulled on our bowling shoes.

  Cal shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it’d be fun to switch partners.”

  Oh no. No no no. There was no way in hell I was partnering with the guy who purposefully tripped me on the bleachers. Why would Cal do this?

  I was furious. This was not the date I had intended. I wanted Cal all to myself. I wanted to flirt and be cute and have him eating out of my hand by eleven tonight. And I thought he wanted something more one-on-one as well. After all, what was all that bullshit about picking me up and this being a “real” date? He insisted on driving when I wanted to meet him here. I wanted it casual, friendly, and he didn’t like that one bit. And now he was giving me the “friendly” treatment?

  “Did you two arrange this?” I asked. I wanted to know.

  “Sort of,” Cal replied. “It was last minute. Parker told me he was taking Gretchen out, so I just figured we could all do something together. Since you wanted our first date to be more casual.” He winked at me. I wanted to poke his eye out.

  I looked at Parker, who hadn’t directed two words to me since we arrived. This was the guy who thought I was too stupid to remember food orders. I couldn’t imagine what he’d think after we bowled. I was lousy at it, and I’m sure he was stellar, which meant he’d bitch the entire time about having a bad partner. But he’d do it in a snarky, subtle way because that’s just the kind of guy he was.

  “Ladies first,” Cal said, and gently pushed me towards the lane.

  “I turned around and addressed Parker. “I’m not very good.” It was apologetic, and I instantly regretted saying anything at all.

  He shrugged. “I figured.”

  I turned back around and closed my eyes. Find a happy place, Brooke, and just breathe. Breathe, Brooke. Don’t say it. Don’t say what you really want to say. Just breathe. Brooke? Don’t do it. Please don’t do it . . . Oh, just go on and say it!

  “Fuckhead.” I didn’t whisper it either. I just said it. Right out loud.

  “Excuse me?” I heard Parker ask from behi
nd.

  I turned around. “I called you a fuckhead. Because you are one.”

  Gretchen’s eyes went wide. I could see the struggle on her face: laugh or stay mute? She opted for mute, which was wise.

  “You’ve had a problem with me since I accidentally ran into you in the hallway at school. I’m soooo sorry I ran into you. It was a freaking accident. But you know what wasn’t an accident? You tripping me on the bleachers.” I looked at Cal. “That’s right. Your little buddy here tripped me. That’s why I fell into you.”

  “Get a grip,” Parker said. “Nobody tripped you. And I don’t have a problem with you.”

  I snorted. “Okay. Whatever.”

  Cal looked at Gretchen, who shrugged her shoulders. A waitress walked by, and Cal asked for a pitcher of beer.

  “I’ll need to see your ID and all of theirs,” she said.

  “Oh, they’re not drinking. It’s for me,” he said, and handed the woman a fake ID. She studied it and then studied Cal. She looked unsure about whether she believed him, but then made up her mind to not care.

  “Bud Light?” she asked. “It’s on special tonight.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I turned back to face the pins. What a jerk. Did he think about the fact that he needed to drive me home later? This night was shaping up to be the worst date in history. Thank God I brought cab fare.

  I rolled the ball down a fraction of the lane before it settled into the gutter. I cursed profusely in my head, wondering if I wouldn’t just abscond the pitcher of beer and make a run for it. I could drink it while I walked home.

  My second try was slightly better. I managed to knock over one pin. It teetered for awhile and was painful to watch.

  I heard Gretchen behind me saying, “You can do it, pin! I know you can!” and Cal telling her that she wasn’t supposed to be cheering for the opponent.

  I walked back to the group and plopped down beside my teammate.

  “Well, let’s see if you can beat that,” I said. Parker actually chuckled.

  Gretchen bowled next, and Cal cheered for her as loudly as possible. I admit my feelings were kind of hurt. My partner didn’t cheer for me. Cal was supposed to be my partner. This was our date. Why was he partners with Gretchen? I felt like he was punishing me, and it made me unreasonably sensitive.