Divine Vices (24 page)

“Where
are we going?”

“You’ll
see,” Ian said.

The
colors of autumn faded away as we headed further down the street and deeper
into the forest, where evergreens ruled the environs. Here, no season existed.
It was everlasting greenery. The sweet fragrance of pine engulfed my senses,
taking me back to warm summer hikes and Christmas morning all at once.

Ian
pulled onto a small frontage road, which took us just shy to the mouth of the
woods. He looked around, comforted by the isolation.

“Come
on,” he said, turning off the engine and climbing out.

“Where
are you taking me?” I asked again, following hesitantly behind him.

He
didn’t answer. We kept walking to the end the forest border, where I was
enraptured by the splendor of the sprawling ocean that rested just beneath us
as we stood on the crown of a bluff. Gold skies laid behind us, dusk creeping
up onto the horizon.

“This
is like a dreamscape,” I said, still gawking in sheer awe.

“And
we have it all to ourselves,” said Ian, letting his jacket slide off his
shoulders.

He
then pulled off his shirt, baring his slight, yet toned frame.

“I’m
sorry? What are you doing?” I said, watching him kick off his shoes and
unbutton his jeans next.

“What?”

“You
know what. I told you in August that we weren’t going to do this again, at
least not for a while.”

“Where’s
your sense of fervor for life?”

“Back
in the truck.”

“Come
on, don’t be a chicken.”

I
stood my ground.

“Fine,
guess I’ll just have to do this by myself,” Ian said.

“You’re
crazy.”

“Been
called worse.”

He
took one last look at me before running full tilt off the cliff with a pounce
that catapulted him into a dive before crashing into the calm tides below. I
ran and looked over the rock face, seeing him resurface a few seconds later.

“Let
me guess, it’s cold?” I shouted down.

He
shook his head. “No, actually it’s not! You coming down or what?”

“What
are you doing, Cassie?” I muttered to myself as I began to undress.

Tossing
my clothes into a heap beside Ian’s until I was in nothing but my bra and
panties, I shook my arms out and bounced about a couple of times to relieve the
manic that arose with a premature jolt of endorphins. No sense in postponing
the inevitable. Letting every ounce of me to be consumed by the adrenaline, I
leapt off too. With nothing under my feet but air, a natural serge of panic hit
before the euphoria of the freefall washed over me as I dove into the water.

Before
kicking back to the surface, I rested weightlessly below, watching the mild
tides crash into the rocks of the coastline. Quiet. Calm. Safe. But then it
hit.

I
shot back up to the surface with the bitter numbness of the icy Atlantic Ocean
prickling at every nerve.

“Goddamnit!”
I screamed. “You are such a liar!”

“What?”
Ian asked, managing to smirk over chattering teeth.

“It’s
not cold, my ass!”

“I
didn’t lie. It’s not cold. It’s freezing,” he laughed. “What did you expect it
to be at the end of October?”

I
splashed as much water at him as possible as my body trembled.

“Remember
the first time I took you to do this?” Ian asked, gently stroking towards me.

I
nodded. “April, down by Lover’s Leap.”

“Remember
how you said you were afraid that you had turned everything off, that you felt
like you were subconsciously trying to become numb to everything?”

I
nodded again.

“And
what did I say to you when we hit the similarly freezing waters? As long as you
feel the pain...”

“...
I’m still alive, which means I’m still capable of feeling.”

He
extended his hand and pulled me in, my arms immediately wrapping around his
neck. I welcomed the surging warmth pulsating from his skin.

“Thank
you.”

Brushing
a wet black strand of hair over my ear, he replied, “You’re stronger than you
think.”

“Why
are you so nice to me?”

He
laughed.

“Seriously?
I’m either uptight or in desperate need of rescuing,” I said. “What the hell is
wrong with me?”

“I
think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

“I
know. That’s exactly what’s bothering me. As strange as this may sound,
tutoring Jack actually taught me something.”

Disbelief
washed over Ian’s face, along with a wave of amusement. “Sure this isn’t coming
from the fact that your body might be going into hypothermic shock?”

“I’m
serious,” I said, trying best to not laugh at myself for such a statement. “He
made me question my motives for tutoring in the first place. You know I have a
ninety-six percent in English? Yet, for reason, I went to Miss Tipton asking
for extra credit to boost my grade. Why?!”

“You’re
trying to build a better future for yourself,” replied Ian, but his tone
suggested that the remark was more of a complete guess than a fact.

“I’m
trying to be perfect, but I don’t know why,” I said. “I’ve always been a good
student. Good grades, honor roll, didn’t cause any trouble at school. But that
never seemed good enough. My mom always wanted me to do better. She always told
me that if I put a little more effort into it that I could excel academically,
which ensured a promising career. But I’ve never known what I really wanted to
do with my life. She’s not here to badger me about getting into the best
business school or to tell me what direction I should be heading in. So why am
I still striving for a future that I don’t want? What does it matter if I have
the best grades humanly possible if I don’t even know what college I want to go
to? I don’t even have a profession that I’m so much as interested in, so I have
to ask myself, why even go to college?”

“I’m
not going,” said Ian.

“Really?”
I said. “I thought you of all people wanted to get out of here.”

“Yeah,
but that doesn’t mean I have to go to college in order to do that. I want to
travel. Go cross-country on a dime via freight train. Go backpacking through
Europe. Sleep in monasteries. Earn my meals by playing guitar on the street
corner.”

I
laughed, but I knew he was wholly sincere in his declaration, which made the
idea all the more appealing.

“For
all I know, my experiences could spark the inspiration for me to write the next
great American novel. Or imagine what kind of scenery I’ll pass along the way.
If I bring a camera with me to document what I see, I could open my own
photography gallery. College isn’t going anywhere. It’ll be here when I get
back. So if worst comes to worst, and all I have is a spectacular adventure,
then I can consider pursuing a real profession after the matter of fact. Fuck
the aptitude test. Pipe-dreamer isn’t a listed career title to academics, so
don’t listen to what a piece of paper has to say,” declared Ian.

“That’s
the thought I had going into the school year, but it took the administration's
office just a glance at my GPA to realize my ‘potential.’ Next thing I knew, I
was on the fast track to high expectations and curriculum overload. No one ever
even bothered to ask me what I wanted,” I said. “And now, here I am, burdened
by the impossible standard of academic perfection.”

“You
know that Winston Churchill failed the six grade? Look where he ended up. Being
one of the greatest prime ministers in history. You don’t have to be perfect.
You just have to know what you want.”

For
the first time since last week, I actually smiled. “You know, if this whole
globe-trekker thing doesn’t work out for you, I’m pretty certain a career in
motivational speaking would be right up your alley. You give one hell of a pep
talk.”

An
unexpected high tide rolled overhead, submersing our heads under the icy
waters. We kicked back up to the surface, our bodies stinging from the piercing
temperatures.

“Ready
to go?” Ian asked through stifled vocals.

“Yeah.”

We
painfully stroked through the oceanic waves, which thankfully carried us to the
shore with little effort. Locking his fingers into the dimples of the rocks
overhead, Ian pulled himself up to the top of a ledge before helping me as
well. Hiking up the hill as quickly as possible, we took refuge in his truck
with the heat cranked on high as we tried to pull our clothes on over our
dampened skin.

Ian
drove us as quickly as he could to his house, where we immediately tore off our
shoes and coats and raced upstairs. Convulsing from the cold, we both
immediately jumped fully dressed into the bathtub and put the water on as hot
as we could tolerate. Exchanging turns under the showerhead, we eventually
recovered from our near-hypothermic state.

“I
really needed this,” I said, resting my head against his chest.

“Reassurance
that you won’t lose any toes or fingers?” he laughed.

“Peace.”

“I
know,” he said, gently wrapping his arms around me. “I’m not exactly the prying
kind of guy, but can I ask what happened, between you and Jack?”

“He
found out about me almost being expelled, and threw it in my face,” I said, the
back of my eyes burning as I tried to suppress the inevitable.

Ian
pulled away. “He what?”

“I
don’t know how he found out, but he did nevertheless.” I couldn’t fight it
anymore. Salty tears poured down my face, my chin trembling as I choked on the
lump growing in my throat.

“It’s
okay.” Ian’s thumbs ran over my cheeks, removing the smudges of mascara.
Kissing me on the forehead, he pulled me back into his embrace. “It’s okay.”

My
body shuddered, but not from the cold. I dug my fingers into Ian’s back,
holding him as tightly as I could. Here was safety.

After
an exhaustible hour in front of the bathroom mirror with my blood deprived
hands barely managing to hold the hot iron in place as the final strands of my
hair curled, my cell phone sounded off from down the hall exactly as the master
clock chimed at a quarter to eight. I released my hair from the iron and
unplugged everything before hastening to narrowly catch the call before its
last ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey,
I’m on my way,” said Gwen.

“I
can’t believe you convinced me to go to this thing,” I said, looking at the
outfit hanging on the hook of my closet door. “Especially since it’s a school
night.”

“Yeah,
well, this is the only time Grayson could get the place to himself, so just
think of it as Halloween come early. It’ll be good for you. A distraction is exactly
what the doctor ordered.”

I
put my cell on speakerphone and started to change clothes. “This isn’t exactly
my cup of tea. The only reason I did this kind of stuff at my last school was
because my sister was the one hosting the parties,” I said, fiddling with the
long black ribbon laced up on the front of my garment.

“Just
try and relax for once. You’ve been far too on edge lately. It’s time you let
your hair down.”

“I
always wear it down,” I said.

“You
know what I mean. Just be ready. I’m gonna be there in about three minutes, and
I don’t want to be late. Last thing I need is Stacy’s grimy little paws all
over Jeff on the dance floor. I saw her batting those ridiculously long, fake
eyelashes of hers at him during Algebra yesterday, as if she’s ever given him
the time of day before,” puffed Gwen. “She’s only into him now because she
knows he’s interested in me. And I’ll be damned to let her reduce Jeff into
being just another notch on her overpriced belt.”

“What
happened to taking it easy?” I joked.

“I
was referring strictly to you,” she said. “I’m engaging in psychological
warfare, on matters of the heart.”

“How
very Shakespearian of you,” I laughed, putting on the finishing touches to my
outfit.

“What
can I say? I’m deep.”

“Or
just psychotic.”

“It’s
a tossup.”

A
few minutes later, the headlights from the Saturn glared up into my bedroom
window as the car hit the bump on the curb at the end of the driveway. I
grabbed a small red clutch on the nightstand and threw my cell in it.

Ding
dong. Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong.

“Hold
your horses,” I said, trotting down the steps.

I
unlocked the front door and pulled it open to see Gwen standing in a
provocative pose typically saved for vixen models on the cover of gentlemen’s
magazines.

“And
what are you supposed to be?” I teased, aping the same sugary tone parents use
when answering the door for trick-or-treaters.

“Ha-ha,”
she said, readjusting the stand-up collar to her black satin, belle sleeved
overlay jacket.

Taking
in the full image of her red mini dress that accentuated her God-given assets,
bustled skirt, fishnet stockings, spiked stilettos, and the pair of sequined
devil horns resting on her head, I rubbed my chin ponderously. “Let’s see.
Wearing next to nothing, seemingly promiscuous, and appears to be a spawn of
Satan... I know! I know! You’re Stacy!”

Gwen
crumbled over in laughter. “Kudos, Foster. But the packaging simply said 'Sexy
Devil Woman.'”

“Aha,
I see it now.”

“Speaking
of sexy,” she said, giving me a good, long look. “I’d say Lil’ Red Riding
Hood’s never looked so temptingly delicious.”

“I
can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually don’t mind this getup,” I said,
admiring the lace embroidered corseted bodice to my long and flowing crimson
gown.

“Lovin’
the heels, too,” Gwen added, noticing my ornate, knee length stiletto boots
that peeked out of the high slit of the skirt.

“All
of this is courtesy of Ian,” I said.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,
he knows this guy who used to be a costume designer for the movies, and now I
guess he runs his own gothic-steampunk shop. So Ian was kind enough to make a
trip out to see if he could find anything that seemed like something I might
want to wear.”

“He
picked this whole thing out himself?”

“Yep,”
I said, pulling the hood to my red silk cape over my head. “You can say what
you like about his taste in fashion, but he nailed this one on the head. I
actually feel sexy.”

“Huh,”
Gwen simply said, bouncing back down the steps. “Think he’s trying to send a
message?”