Messed Up (17 page)

We turned to look at each other, neither of us speaking. I reached out and lightly traced my finger over the swollen red marks that puckered like tiny raspberries on his chest. After a moment, he grabbed my wrist and pulled my body to his. I rested my head against him. His body felt hot and was moist with perspiration. I could hear his breathing. It was more rapid than usual.

“
Chelsea, I couldn’t let him disrespect you like that. I am so sorry…” he began.

“
Don’t say it!” I interrupted, pulling myself away so I could look him in the eyes, “No more apologies. It was my fault. You warned me not to go.”

“
Yeah, but…”
“Stop!” I said, putting my hand to his mouth, “Let’s just pretend like that never happened? Okay?” All I wanted to do was forget that any of it had ever happened. I wanted to pretend like that miserable garage didn’t even exist.

“
Whatever you say,” he reached his hand out to stroke the side of my face, “You’re the boss.”

I rolled my eyes at him, as if.

When we reached Noah’s
cabin
, Bryce and James scampered out of the car, neither of them looking at me. I asked Levi to drive me home; he tried halfheartedly to convince me otherwise, but gave in without much of a fight. Despite the little wrinkle in their plan, James had managed to take a sheet of acid tabs the size of a legal document, which I assumed by the look on Bryce’s face, was a lot. I thought I should get out of there before somebody at the party mistook me for a two headed dragon or worse.

“
I feel bad leaving you here,” Levi said in his velvety voice as we pulled up to my house.

“
That’s okay. Have fun and keep the self mutilation to a minimum, would you?” I replied lightly.

He reached over to kiss me, “Next time we hang out, how about you plan the itinerary?”

“
Sounds good. I just hope you won’t fall asleep from boredom.”

“
Hmm… You’d better wear something very low-cut, just to be safe,” he winked at me.

“
I’ll keep that in mind,” I smiled. Would my stomach always flutter when he said stuff like that, I wondered, as I climbed out of the car.

14

If you think that witnessing Levi force a gun down the throat of a perverted crack addict would be enough to change my feelings for him, then you haven’t been paying attention. I was so beyond obsessed with Levi, so totally infatuated, that I let the whole harrowing event nuzzle itself into the recesses of my brain, only come to out in my nightmares. In fact, I considered the next three weeks, two days with Levi to be perfect.

He took me out every night to places that Montecito High boys wouldn’t even know about. We went to the symphony, to the opera, to fancy restaurant that served course after course of dishes with names I couldn’t pronounce. Levi planed elaborate dates in San Francisco that involved sail boat rides, and candle lit meals under the stars. He brought me to dark, smoke filled clubs where jazz music played and smart looking people sat around drinking muddy coffee and wine the color of blood. And each night, after getting me home in time for my parents to see him kissing me goodnight at the doorstep, Levi would sneak back in through my open window. I would fall asleep in his arms. Through all of it, I felt like I was dreaming. How did I get so lucky?

I spent all of my time that I wasn’t with Levi or at Yogurt Heaven with Conner. Due to the fact it was hotter than hell in Santa Juanita, we mainly floated around in my backyard pool, talking. We spent a lot of time making plans for the documentary film we were going to produce. It was going to be like
The Office
, only with real people and it would take place at the mall’s food court. We had plenty of material as I worked there, and Conner kept me company on most of my solo shifts. We were sure that Ronda from the Taco Bell and Frankie from the Orange Julius would be the Jim and Pam in our documentary.

Conner and I also did a lot of art together. We’d carry our sketch books around, stopping whenever one of us was feeling inspired. I marveled at what would arouse Conner’s attention: a broken bottle that the light hit just right, a wild flower coming up through a crack in the dirty sidewalk, even the scabs on the inside of my palms.

I guess I probably shouldn’t have been so naive, but since he never said anything about it, I just assumed that Levi didn’t mind all the time I was spending with Conner. And even though I told Conner all about the expedition for acid and the safety pins, he said he would support me as long as I was happy, which I was. Maybe the second hand crack smoke I’d inhaled at the garage made me delusional, but I began to feel like I’d scored a perfect ten in both the boyfriend and friend department. But since when is anything ever perfect?

15

I was sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter as my mom went over all the phone numbers for a third time. My parents were going on a National Parks tour, culminating in a hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. I know, it sounds like a freaking nightmare, right? Can you believe they actually pay money for that kind of torture? They would be gone for almost two and half weeks and were leaving me to fend for myself.

“So who was it I’m supposed to call if snakes start climbing out of my mouth and my head begins spinning around?” I asked sarcastically.

“If you don’t think you can handle this maturely Chelsea, I’m sure you could come with us,” she replied. I knew it was an empty threat. She would have eaten a live dog before having to hear my bitching and moaning all the way down and up the giant canyon.

“I’ve got it mom. No worries,” I said patting her reassuringly on the shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I think those were your sister’s exact words right before she had the party that still gets me dirty looks from the neighbors.”

I helped my parents out to the car, loading their suitcases into the trunk, and hoping for their sake they’d rented a pack mule. “Don’t fall,” I said as I waved goodbye, “I hear it’s a really deep hole.”

Back in the house, I began preparing for Levi’s arrival. It was going to be the first time that we could spend the whole night together, uninterrupted by my parents and the necessity for him to sneak in and out of my window. I had big plans. I was going to make lasagna, a recipe I’d gotten from Conner’s Italian grandma. After dinner we’d have a romantic swim under the stars. Then I’d force him to watch my favorite Woody Allen movie,
Annie Hall
, which I was sure he would like if he’d give it half a chance.

Making the lasagna was more difficult, and hot, than I had anticipated which, if I didn’t want to smell, would require a change of clothes. I called Levi, to find out how soon he’d be at my house. After four rings, my call was sent to voice mail. I forced myself to not over-think it. He wasn’t screening my call, he was just away from his phone, I rationalized.

I showered and put on my favorite pair of jeans and the light blue tank top that I knew made me look tan. I must have peeked out of my window a dozen times, each time my heart sinking deeper when Levi’s car wasn’t there. Time moved slowly at first and then seemed to pick up momentum as the night got later. At ten o’clock I stuck the entire lasagna in the freezer, and went to my room to wallow in self pity. I had obviously been stood up.

I picked up my cell phone, contemplating whether or not I should text him that I was going to bed and to not bother calling or coming over. I knew that I would never be so bold, but I found the thought to be strangely empowering. If only it would be that easy to cut him off, think of all the drama I would have avoided. I started to call Conner instead, but hung up before the first ring as I heard a car pull into my driveway. My stomach danced with excitement. How quickly my mood can change, I thought.

I heard the door open and footsteps move up the stairs. I was in the hallway outside of my room when Levi turned the corner.

“Forget how to knock?” I asked smiling at him.

He didn’t reply. He walked to me, his eyes looking strangely severe. He put one hand on either side of my thighs and lifted me up so that I was straddling him. I giggled, not because anything was funny, but because I felt awkward. He carried me into my room and tossed me like a ragdoll onto the bed. His body came down onto mine, his weight nearly knocking the air from my lungs. I was suddenly aware of how strong he was, and more importantly, how weak I was. I could tell something was different by the way he kissed me. The pace of his lips against mine was more hurried and intense then I’d ever felt them before.

Levi forced his hand under my shirt, adeptly unfastening my bra, and without so much as a pause, pulled my tank top over my head, letting it fall to the floor. With one hand he grabbed at my breasts roughly. It was too aggressive, painful even.

“That hurts Levi,” I said weakly, but he ignored my complaint. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach turn from excitement to alarm. This is going too fast, I told myself.

The hand on my breast moved to my shoulder and for a moment I felt relieved, but then his hand press down hard, pinning me to the bed, while his other hand worked to unbutton my pants. I froze as my jeans were pushed down hurriedly. Stop, I heard myself screaming inside my head, please stop. Levi began unbuttoning his own jeans. I became suddenly aware that my hands still existed. I pressed them hard against his chest, trying to push him off of me. He didn’t move or slow, but pressed down more strongly with his body.

“Stop!” I said quietly, and then louder, “No. I don’t want this!” For a long moment he kept going, pulling his pants down, and then his boxers, “Levi, please. Stop,” I heard myself beg weakly.

Suddenly he was off of me, pulling his pants back up. I stood up too, and turned my back to him as I fumbled with my own clothes. When I turned around again, Levi was sitting on a chair in the middle of my dark room. His elbows rested on his knees and his face was buried in his hands. Levi’s breath was rapid and the muscles on his jaw were tensed in an expression I recognized as anger. A flood of unfamiliar fear rolled through me.

“I’m sorry,” I said with my voice breaking, “I just… want to… go slow. You know?”

He didn’t speak for a while, but when he did his voice was livid, “How much slower could we fucking go, Chelsea?” He stood up, and unexpectedly slammed the palm of his hand into the wall. I watched as the picture frame with me and Hannah crashed to the floor.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I felt myself beginning to cry. Panic and confusion began bubbling up inside me. Where was this coming from? How come I hadn’t anticipated this? “Don’t go. Please. Please, don’t go,” I begged, “I’ll do it. It’s fine. I’m fine,” I heard myself saying desperately.

“Whatever Chelsea,” he sounded disgusted. He walked out of my room. I listened silently to each of his heavy footsteps down the stairs, to the front door slamming behind him, to his car starting up and peeling out in front of my house, and only then did I start to really lose it.

My sobs were hysterical. I stood looking at myself in the mirror and yelled like a lunatic, “What’s your problem Chelsea? Every other sixteen year old girl on the face of the planet would have sex with her freaking boyfriend. Why do you have to be different? What’s the big deal? Levi is practically perfect and you just ruined it. You ruined everything.” This rant only brought on more tears. I threw myself on the bed and kicked and screamed like a two year old having a full-on temper tantrum.

After every last tear was forced out of my eyeballs and my voice was horse from yelling. I picked up the phone to call the one person on this continent that could make me feel better. Conner answered his phone sounding half asleep. I hadn’t taken into account it was well past midnight by this point.

“Oh, sorry Con. I forgot how late it was,” I said, feeling tears begin to well up in my eyes again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked ignoring my apology, “You sound like you’ve been crying.”

His concern got the waterworks going once more, and I cried loudly into the phone for a while, trying to catch my breath enough to speak.

“Did something happen with Levi?” he asked softly between my gasps.

“Yes,” I managed to say.

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to come over, okay?”

“Yeah,” that was enough to start me sobbing all over again. How totally emo can you be?

I have often wondered how many calories are burned by crying, because I always feel like I’ve run a marathon after a long sob-fest, as if every bone and muscle in my body is ready to call it a day. So by the time Conner got to my house, I was more or less asleep. I had changed into my most comfortable pajamas, oversized flannels with puppy dogs all brushing their teeth. I didn’t care that I looked like a four years old in them or that it was a scorching night and flannel was probably an impractical choice. I climbed into my bed and pulled the blanket up under my chin. My TV was on, but it was muted, sending flashing light bouncing off the four walls of my bedroom. I heard Conner, knocking at the door, but I was too tired to answer it. I knew he’d eventually just walk in. It wasn’t locked.

When he finally entered my room, his face wore an expression of pained concern. He took off his shoes and got under the covers with me, pulling me into one of his tender hugs. At first I felt nothing, my body and mind numb. But slowly I began to notice a warm sensation travel through me. I felt my breath release and my jaw unclench. Neither of us said anything, and I eventually let myself give into a restless sleep.