Bright Side (35 page)

(Kate)

Gus and I talk on Skype. He plays me what he’s written. The acoustics on the bus aren’t great but it’s hard for me to hold back my emotion watching him bare his soul. He was right—it’s angry. But it’s also beautiful, because I know it’s Gus at his most raw. He’s not hiding. It’s just gritty guitar and unfiltered words. That kind of purity tears me up.

When he finishes there are tears in his eyes, too. I let him compose himself before I jokingly say, “I think you might have some rage issues, dude.”

He swallows hard. “You think?”

I shake my head. “No. I was stalling. I just needed a minute.” I did. I still do. I swallow hard. “Dude, that was outstanding. What about adding some violin to soften the violent tendencies?”

He coughs and takes a drink of water from the bottle on the table. “Violin might help take the edge off; you know, tamp down the hysteria.”

I don’t want to laugh, but he needs the encouragement. “I’m all for tamping down hysteria with strings. Can you record what you’ve got on your ridiculously smart phone and email the video to me? I’ve got something turning over in my head but I need to hear it again.”

“You got it.”

“Right on. I’ll touch base with you tomorrow. Keep up with the writing.”

“Thanks, Bright Side. For everything. This helps.”

“Me too, dude. Love you, Gus.”

“Love you, too.”

“Bye.”

“I’m not saying goodbye anymore. I love you.”

Skype disconnects, and his picture disappears.

(Kate)

It’s been a few days since I’ve been to my dorm room. I need to grab my detergent and do some laundry.

I slip the key into the lock but it’s already unlocked. That’s strange. Dorm room 101/Creeper 101—always keep your door locked.

Sugar’s lying on her bed, but she’s awake. I decide to offer up a friendly greeting and say, “What’s happening, Sugar?” even though I doubt I’ll get much in return. Hostile or dismissive responses don’t count.

Nothing. She says nothing. Fine. Whatever. It’s not like we’re best friends. Hell, we really aren’t even friends so I move on quickly to the task at hand.

As I’m stuffing clothes from a pile next to my bed into my laundry bag, I hear a sniffle from Sugar’s side of the room. I’ve just been put in the position where I have to make a split-second decision—do I acknowledge that she’s crying, or don’t I? I want to ignore her, but I can’t. I glance back and notice she’s huddled up in fetal position and tears are silently streaming down her cheeks onto her pillow. Her face is devoid of any emotion, which is the scariest kind of breakdown. It’s the mask of shock. The mask your body puts on when what you’re going through is too intense and it would rather shut down than contend with it head-on.

Well shit, it looks like I’m not getting any laundry done this afternoon.

Since we aren’t exactly friends, I’m not going to go over the top, but I am concerned. I hate to see people cry. “Sugar, dude, you wanna talk about it?”

No response. She doesn’t even blink.

I try again because I can’t walk away now. “Listen, I know I’m the last person you probably want to talk to, but I am a good listener.”

She blinks and looks up at me like she’s just noticed me for the first time.
The tears keep coming.

“What’s up, dude?”

She sniffles again and I hand her a tissue from the box on my desk. After she blows her nose, the expression on her face is somewhere between sadness and embarrassment. She sniffles again. “I’m pregnant.”

For an instant I think,
And this surprises you, you nympho?
But the mean thought exits as quickly as it entered because I’m certainly not a saint in this department. Only a virgin could pass judgment right now. That’s certainly not me. “How far along?”

She rubs the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I don’t know. I missed my period last week. I took three tests yesterday. All positive.”

My mind is racing. I can’t help but put myself in her shoes. It’s like some sort of morbid version of living vicariously. God, what the hell would I do if I were Sugar? So I try to be supportive, again without being fake. “Have you talked to the father?”

She shakes her head and lets out a laugh that’s part disgust and part self-loathing. “I don’t even know who the father is.”

“Can you narrow it down? Maybe if you find out how far along you are, it would help.”

She rolls her eyes and they land on the tissue she’s shredding into confetti onto the bed in front of her. “You know as well as I do how many different guys have come through here.” The tears have started up again. “I’m so fucking stupid, Kate.”

I have this sudden urge to comfort her, because everyone messes up.
Everyone
. I sit down on her bed and offer another tissue. “You’re not stupid, Sugar. Horny maybe, but not stupid.”

She blows her nose loudly and glares at me.

It makes me smile. For the first time, I’m having a real conversation with the real Sugar. “What are you going to do?”

“I can’t have a baby,” she says without reservation. “I just can’t.”

My heart hurts. Although I absolutely believe that this is a decision every woman needs to make for herself, my head still has me in Sugar’s shoes. I know that, deep down, I would want to keep my baby. I swallow and remind myself that this isn’t about me, it’s about Sugar. And only Sugar knows what’s best for Sugar.

But I still have to play devil’s advocate because it’s what I would do for a friend. “Can you live with that decision? One, two, ten years down the road? Can you live with it?”

There’s fear in her eyes, but she repeats, “I can’t have a baby right now.”

I nod. She’s thought about it. “Have you been to the health clinic on campus? Maybe they can help.”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m ... I’m scared.”

I can’t believe I’m saying this. “Go wash your face and put some clothes on. We’re going on a field trip, Sugar.”

Sugar takes another pregnancy test at the campus health clinic. It confirms what she already knew. She talks to the PA on duty, with me by her side, and takes the standard pamphlets and cards they provide on pregnancy, adoption, and abortion.

By the time we walk out the door, she’s resolute. She has a plan. Still, her hands are shaking so hard she can’t dial her cell to make an appointment.

I take the phone out of her hand and finish dialing the number on the business card. When a woman answers on the other end of the line I proceed. “I need to make an appointment for a friend.”

We
set up an appointment for next Thursday morning.

(Kate)

Sugar had an abortion. I took her to the clinic. It’s done. Final.

I made sure she got into our dorm room afterward and that I got her something to eat and drink. She thanked me, and
then I had to leave. I’m not holding this against her. I’m not judging her. I’m really not. But my stomach hurts and I can’t stop thinking about Stella. What if Lily and Keller made the same decision? No Stella. The thought of no Stella makes me want to cry.

I run to my car and start driving. By the time I get to Keller’s, I’m still out of breath. I don’t know what it’s like to have a panic attack, but this has to be close. My goddamn heart is going to beat itself free of my body. I feel like I’m losing my shit. It’s terrifying. I’ve never felt like this before. I barge into his apartment and double over, hands on my knees, trying to pull oxygen into my lungs and quiet my mind, but the only thing I can think about is nonexistence. And I can’t help going down the road where nonexistence equates to death.

Keller’s next to me in an instant. “Katie, what’s wrong?”

I look up. “Stella. I need to talk to Stella right now.” I’m sucking in ragged breaths. “Can you please call her? Right now?”

He looks confused but pulls his cell out of his pocket and calls immediately. He walks me to sit on his bed while it rings. “Hey Melanie. Can you put Stella on please?” He pauses, waiting. He smiles at me but it’s strained. His eyebrows are pulled together. I’m scaring him. “Hi baby girl. How’s my Stella?”

I can hear Stella’s tiny voice faintly. My heart rate begins to slow down.

“Stella, Katie wants to say hi. I’m going to put her on the phone now so she can talk to you.”

My hand’s already outstretched desperately awaiting Stella on the other end. “Hi sweetie.”

“Hi Kate. Whatcha doin’?” She sounds so grown up.

“I was just thinking about you and realized it’s been a few days since I talked you. How’s Miss Higgins?” This is good. This is what I need.

“She’s good. She ate apples this morning. She
loves
apples.” She drags out loves for a good three seconds and it makes me smile.

“Well, good. I’m glad to hear it. What did you do today?” I can breathe normally now, but I need another minute with her.

“Melanie and I went ice skating and she read me the pony book, but she doesn’t read it good like you do. She doesn’t make horse noises. It’s kind of boring.”

“I’ll read it to you next time I see you, okay?” I know I shouldn’t make promises I may not be able to keep, but I can’t help myself.

“Okay.”

“I’m going to put your daddy back on the phone. Have a good night, Stella.”

“I will.”

After he hangs up, Keller takes my face gently in his hands and looks directly in my eyes. There’s still worry in his. “What just happened, bab
e?”

“I don’t know. I
kinda freaked out. Sorry. I just … I had to take someone to do something earlier ... and it was hard … it made me feel …” I realize that I’m rambling, so I stop. I look at his beautiful face. “I think I just had my first freak-out moment about dying. I’m sorry.”

(Kate)

Gus and I have been working on his song for the past week and a half, and yesterday we played it for the rest of the band. Gus has decided (and by decided I mean he’s hell-bent and nothing will stop him) that he wants to record it.

It’s 8:00am and he’s already calling for the first of what I’m sure will be many calls today. “Hey Gus, what’s up in Portland today?”

“Portland’s rainy. How’s Grant?”

“Haven’t been outside yet, but I would say there’s a one hundred percent chance of freezing-ass cold.”

He laughs. “Hey, I won’t keep you long, but I wanted to make sure you’re free next weekend?” He says it as a question.

“Sure. I have finals this week. I think my last one is Thursday morning. After that I’m free. What’s up, dude?”

“I’ve been talking to MFDM about recording this song, and he lined us up a recording studio in Minneapolis next weekend.”

“What about your shows?”

“Postponed. We’re all flying in Friday morning and we’ll have the place until Sunday evening when we fly out.”

He’s not wasting any time with this.
It’s a good thing because my pain is getting more intense even on my new meds, and I’ve noticed that it even hurts to breathe sometimes. My lungs just aren’t working like they should be. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to play or sing. “Okay. Are the guys going to be ready?”

Gus is all business. “They’ll be ready.”

“Yeah. Wow, no pressure, dude.”

“Sorry, Bright Side. I know this is a lot to put on you. Are you going to be okay? I mean how are you feeling?” He’s stumbling all over himself because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

It’s time to reassure him. “I’m fine, Gus. Next weekend will be fine. I can’t wait to see you guys.”

“I can’t wait to see you, too. I’ll call you later with all the details.”

“Sounds good. Love you, Gus.”

“Love you too, Bright Side.”

We hang up after that. I guess I can’t say goodbye to him anymore either.

(Keller)

We’ve been drinking coffee all night while we’re studying for finals. Katie looks exhausted, but she’s a trooper.

“Keller?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Can we take a break for a few minutes?”

That question brings to mind so many things I’d rather be doing right this moment.

Namely Katie
.

I set my book down on the floor next to the loveseat and stand up, offering her my hand.

She looks at it questioningly and raises her eyebrows.

I offer it again. “Dance with me, pretty lady.”

The smile I love touches her lips. It’s the smile that opens up and pulls you inside. It lulls you into her world. It’s my favorite place to be. She takes my hand and stands slowly. “Are you serious?”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and thumb through my music.
After selecting “Pictures of You” by The Cure, I turn up the volume, set the phone on the coffee table, and lead her by the hand to the open space behind the loveseat. “I never joke about romance.”

Katie glances to the floor before fixing me with those incredible eyes of hers and I know what she’s about to say means a lot to her. She has this way of telling half the story with her eyes before she even opens her mouth. “I’ve never slow danced before.”

I wrap my left arm around her back, pulling her to me while taking her right hand in mine and resting them against my chest. “You love to dance. What do you mean you’ve never slow danced?”

“I’ve danced with guys,” she says, nuzzling her cheek against my chest and kissing the back of my hand, “But never a proper slow dance. This is old school. It’s nice.”

It is nice. The song is melancholy, emotional, but that’s what makes it absolutely beautiful. And it’s almost eight minutes long. Every slow dance should last at least eight minutes. We sway and melt into each other. I could hold her like this all night long. As the song finishes, she pulls back slightly and looks up at me.

I know that look.

I
love
that look.

It is
so
on.

Her fingers are already curled around the hem of my T-shirt. I lean down and kiss her lips. “Are we still taking a break?”

She nods and pulls at the drawstring on my sweatpants. “Mmm hmm.”

I pull my shirt over my head and step out of my pants. I lean down, touching her thigh and running my hand up her bare leg until it disappears beneath her pajama shorts. “What did you have in mind?”

She gasps when my fingers pass under her panties. “You choose. You always—” she pauses and her throat hums.
Damn
, that sound. It makes me want to worship her and ravage her at the same time. Her head drops back and her eyes flutter closed and she continues, “—have the best ideas.”

I smooth her wild hair away from her neck. With her collarbone exposed like that, I have to taste it. It’s so good that I continue.

She lets me.

Our blissful connection is gentler and slower than times before, but mutual satisfaction doesn’t take long to achieve.

Neither one of us is ready to get back to studying. Katie suggests that we get dressed and visit her dorm.

It’s 11:45pm, but during finals week, everyone pulls all-nighters.

I drive us in her car, because Dunc has the Green Machine down at Shel’s.

The dorms are busy. Most of the doors in the hallway are propped open and there’s music drifting out into the hallway from several of them. People are loitering in the hall, shuffling around with mugs of coffee. From the looks of it, a lot of people have hit the wall like we have and are taking a break from studying.

We hit up Clayton and Peters’ room first. Clayton’s a cool guy. He’s friendly and always says the funniest things. He and Katie play off each other well. Peter’s serious as a heart attack, but he’s nice enough. And Katie really likes him. Better than that, he totally, one hundred percent cares about and respects Katie. And for that I appreciate the guy. He knows a good person when he meets one.

Next, we stop at her room. Her roommate is here. I’m not a big fan of Sugar. To be honest, she’s a conceited twat. The few times I’ve been here with Katie, Sugar’s acted like a spoiled brat, like
she’s too good for Katie. She tries to talk down to her, but because Katie’s so feisty she puts Sugar in her place. She doesn’t let people fuck with her. It’s actually unbelievably sexy. Just thinking about Katie, I’m getting ready for round two of our “study break.” We need to get out of here. Stat.

“You ready, babe? Because I am.” When she catches my eye, I wink.

She smiles at the come on. “Oh, I think I
could be
ready
if you just give me another couple of minutes to talk to Sugar.”

Goddamn
. Now I’m definitely ready. 

She’s talking quietly to Sugar. I can’t quite hear what they’re talking about, but Katie’s voice sounds concerned. I think it’s best if I wait out in the hall and give them some privacy.

I’m walking back down the hall from the drinking fountain when I hear a door close and look behind me. I see Katie walking the other way, heading toward the stairs with Clayton. I’m about to call out her name, when that bastard, Ben Thompson, stumbles out into the hall from a room a few down from Katie’s. What the hell is he doing here? He’s a junior and lives in a frat house on the other side of campus. I’ve never liked the prick. He’s an arrogant asshole and dumber than a box of rocks. That aside, the real reason I can’t stand him is because of something that happened freshman year. We both lived in this very dorm, and a girl who lived across the hall from me, Gina, accused him of rape. She recanted her claims the following day, packed up her stuff, and her parents picked her up and took her away. I know the bastard did it. He should be in jail, but instead the sicko’s still here. Rumor has it Gina’s not the only one, there have been others. The guy’s a shithead.

He’s drunk off his ass and he’s following Katie down the hall. I’m not taking my fucking eyes off her, because I swear I will rip his arm out of its socket if he even thinks of touching her.

Katie stops and turns to face him. He must’ve said something to her. I can just make out the murderous look on her face.

The next thing I know,
Ben grips Clayton’s shirt in his hand and shoves him into the wall. “Get out of my way, I’m trying to talk to the cock-tease. I’ll kick your ass in a minute, faggot.”

Clayton raises his voice. “You can’t threaten me anymore.”

I start to run down the hall, pushing people out of my way.

About six
steps away, I hear Katie’s voice. “Get away from me, asshole.” It’s forceful, loud. She doesn’t sound scared. Little does she know what this guy is capable of.

Four steps away. I see his hand is on her ass as she’s turning to walk away. That’s it; the motherfucker is dead now.

Two steps away. I launch myself and tackle him from behind. Katie screams and jumps out of the way. We miss her by inches when I hit the floor on top of Ben. Without even thinking, I start pummeling the guy’s face. I hit him again and again. My knuckles turn red with blood, his or mine I don’t know. I don’t care. Then someone’s pulling me off of him.

Ben starts crawling to his feet. His nose is draining blood down his face and onto the front of his shirt.

“What the hell?” He spits blood at my feet.

I try to lunge at him again, but can’t break the grip of three guys holding me back. “You fucking piece of shit. Don’t you ever touch her again, do you hear me? If I even see you fucking look at her, I swear I will rip your goddamn eyes out of their sockets.”

He holds up his hands like he’s completely innocent. “Sorry, chief. No harm, no foul.” He turns to leave like he didn’t just get his ass beat.

He stops to blow a kiss at Katie when he walks by her.
He did not just fucking taunt her right in front of me.

I’m about to pull away and tear this guy to pieces when Katie grabs Ben by the shoulders and knees him square in the balls. It drops him to the floor. It was so fucking brilliant, I have to laugh.

She leans down to his ear. “Karma is a bitch, dude. I hope your pathetic youth has been worth it, because trust me, for a piece of shit like you, your future is going to be hell. Enjoy it, motherfucker, because you’ve earned every miserable second.”

Jesus, my tiny, one hundred pound girlfriend is the bravest, most badass person I’ve ever met.      

Ben is up and stumbling down the hall again, nuts in hand.

Then Katie’s
delicate little hands are on my face, and she’s frantically searching my eyes. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head and I can’t stop smiling at her. I’m damn near giddy, which is absurd given the fact that I just beat the shit out of someone … and I’ve never laid a hand on anyone before in my life. Maybe it’s all the adrenaline.

Or maybe it’s just Katie.

She smiles that damn
gorgeous smile of hers. “You’ve got a pretty good right hook, baby. Let’s go home so we can get you in the shower and clean you up.”

I raise an eyebrow. “We? You helping?”

She tugs on the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth. God, I love it when she does that. She shrugs. “I like to help. What can I say?”

Then someone’s tapping me on the shoulder and asking, “Excuse me? Are you okay?”

I turn and the dorm RA, John, is standing before me in pajama bottoms and a Grant T-shirt that looks like it’s been washed a million times. He was the RA when I was in this dorm freshman year. I know he doesn’t remember me, but by the looks of him he’s as grouchy as ever. I’ve never seen the guy crack a smile.

He repeats, “Are you okay?”

I nod, despite the pain pulsing through my knuckles.

He jabs his thumb in the air over his shoulder. “Good. Go clean up in the bathroom and then get out of here. I don’t want to see you in here again.” It’s a big show. I forgot how much this guy gets off on up-holding authority.

I reach for Katie’s hand. “Come on.”

John shakes his head. “I need to talk to Kate and Clayton first. Kate will meet you outside.”

Katie raises her eyebrows and looks at Clayton, who’s been backed up against the wall trying to stay out of the bedlam this whole time, before she agrees, “Okay. I’ll meet you out front in a minute, Keller.”

After scrubbing the blood off my hands, I’m angry all over again. How dare John kick me out? He didn’t say a word to Ben and I’m pretty sure he saw everything. I throw the front door open and pound my way down the stairs. Katie is standing with Clayton and John on the sidewalk.

I point an accusatory finger at John. “You—“

Katie pushes me back with both hands on my chest. “Whoa. One MMA fight is enough for tonight, tiger.”

Then I see something on John’s face that I’ve never seen before: a smile. Well, it’s not so much a smile as it is the small, misshapen, beginning of a grin. But on him it’s the equivalent of an ear-to-ear, face splitting smile that shows off every tooth. He’s looking down at Katie. She has her back to him. He looks up at me and the smile vanishes. He clears his throat. “I apologize for making a scene in there, but I have a job to do.” He looks me in the eye. “As far as I’m concerned, this never happened.”

I’m confused and all the adrenaline in my system isn’t helping. “What didn’t happen?”

“Exactly. You were never here.” He’s letting me off the hook.

“You’re not reporting this to campus security?”

“No. I’ve been waiting for any opportunity to get Ben Thompson thrown out of Grant. And it seems he decided to verbally and physically assault two of my residents before picking a fight with an unknown person tonight.”

“Unknown?” I press.

He shrugs. “It all happened so fast, I didn’t get a good look at the guy he was fighting with. Come to think of it, Ben was so drunk the fight probably happened after he left here on his way home.”

Katie’s nodding. “Strange,” she muses.

“Strange,” Clayton adds. He’s wearing an odd little smile.

“Strange,” John agrees. “Besides, the assault on Kate and Clayton alone is enough to get him kicked out. I heard and saw it all. He was vile. I won’t even have to bring up the fight. Ben’s list of violations is as long as my arm, this will be the final nail in the coffin. And it will be my pleasure. I’ve been waiting three years to see this guy pay.”

I nod. Maybe this guy isn’t half bad. “Gina?”

He nods and sadness flashes across his face. “Yeah.”

Katie chimes in. “Clayton’s agreed to file a report, too.” She smiles at Clayton like she’s proud of him. “We need to go with John to the campus security office.”

I don’t hesitate. “I’ll drive you guys.”

She looks down at my scraped knuckles and the blood on my shirt.

I look down at my shirt. “I’ll, uh ... I’ll wait in the car when we get there.”

She smiles. “Good idea.”

John’s already motioning us toward the parking lot. He’s back to his usual curt, bossy self. “Ben Thompson will be gone before the sun comes up. I’d bet my MBA on it.”