Pushing Limits (4 page)

 “Yeah, it’s just a new location but nothing else has changed. 
I’m alone and I don’t know anyone.  No friends, no family, and I still
don’t measure up.  Sounds like the same old shit, different day.”

“This is about protecting you,” she says.  “My mother didn’t approve
of my choices so she cut me off.  Trust me.  I realize it’s going to
take time for you to believe me…to trust me again.  I get it.  A day
doesn’t go by that I don’t regret that conversation.  I love you, kiddo,
more than you’ll ever know,” she says, as a single tear trickles down her
cheek.  Her voice is haunting and filled with pain.

What the fuck is that all about?

***

Aunt Patty “went to get some air” after our big blowout.  I was
thankful, really.  I need a rest from the drama of the last two
days.  While I unpack, I make a mental note of what I need to get to
decorate the room.  It’s pretty cool.  All my other schools wouldn’t
let you decorate.  In boarding school, they gave you a bulletin board but
nothing could go on the walls.  I scan the room, getting excited about the
blank space.

A soft knock on my door shakes me out of my
daydream
.  “Come in.”  I call.

A redheaded girl with Clark Kent style glasses
peaks her head in shyly.  “Hi, you must be Amber.  I don’t mean to
disturb you but I’m Karen.  I wanted to stick my head in and introduce
myself.  I live down the hall.”

“Hi, Karen.  It’s nice to meet you. 
Would you like to come in?”  I curse inwardly at my lame
introduction.  I guess old habits die hard…my mom insisted I repeat any
new acquaintance’s name to make sure I remember it. 
I am such a
dork. 

“Sure.”  Karen walks in, plopping onto the
bed opposite mine, looking around.  “Are you settling in ok?”  She
smiles as she pushes her glasses up her nose.

“Yeah.  I got in today.  I’m from
Chicago.  Where are you from?”

“Ah, another Midwesterner.  Cool. 
I’m from Kansas City.”  Spying my only picture, she lifts it from the
nightstand and studies it for a moment saying, “Cool picture.  Where was
it taken?”

Careful to keep my eyes down, I say, “It was taken at a Heart concert I
went to over the summer.  It was such a blast – they were amazing – Ann
Wilson rocks.”

She smiles.  “Oh, I love them!”

“Yeah me, too.  My girlfriend,
Angela, got
the tickets as a surprise for my birthday.  We rode up early on her
motorcycle and spent the entire day at the festival.”  I smile sadly, my
voice quivering.  “It was a great birthday.” 
Damn it. 
Don’t’ cry.
 
Don’t cry in front of a total stranger.

“Are you ok?” she asks.  Her green eyes
fill with concern.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, it’s ok.  I’m fine.”  I flash my
best reassuring smile. 

“Do you want to talk about it?  I have a
solid shoulder here,” she says, patting her shoulder with a supportive
smile. 

“I better finish up here.  I still have to
get my clothes put away.  I’m exhausted.”

“You sure?  My Gran always taught me to
lend a kind ear to anyone I meet.”  Her kind eyes urge me to get whatever
is bothering me off my chest. 

But, how do I know you won’t spread it all
over the dorm?
  “I guess I’m
homesick, that’s all.  I’ll shake it off.”  I smile.

“Well, it was nice meeting you.  I’ll let
you get back to it.”  She smiles politely.  “I’ll see you
around.”  Pulling the door closed with a slight wave, leaving a soft baby
powder scent in her wake.

Staring back down at the picture in my hands, I notice Angela’s happy
face for probably the hundredth time, her dark hair curling around her cheeks
in perfect tendrils.  Her arm tossed casually over my shoulders as she
towered over me.  Smiles lit our faces.  The day was perfect.

Angela knew about my relationship with my
family.  She knew it was a sure bet, if not a certainty, that my Dad would
forget my birthday altogether.  My Mom would call late into the night to
leave a message on my cell wishing me a happy birthday because of this dinner
or that meeting. 
And
that only Arthur and Elise would be home to
celebrate with me,
as usual
.  But, she went out of her way to make
sure I had the perfect birthday.  She was like that….sweet, thoughtful,
kind. 

Placing the picture back on the nightstand, I
sigh.  Forcing myself up, I finish unpacking and wish for the millionth
time she was here with me.

***

As we walk in to the chancellor’s office, Tommy
is walking out.  “Hello, Ladies.   Here to see Ms.
Chadwick?”  He’s still in his uniform but sans the shades.  His eyes
twinkle as he smiles down at me. 
God, he is smokin’
.

“Yeah, I have to get my schedule.”  I say,
trying to look up into his sparkling blue eyes, and failing
miserably.   My boot has become a sudden fascination.  

“I came by to drop off the keys to the Towne car.”
He lightly lifts my chin up so he can see my face.   I freeze from
the contact, as the heat rushes to my face.  He slides his finger across
my chin before releasing it.  So casual, almost unnoticeable, but I feel a
connection lingering after he let’s go. 

Man, I need to get laid...and preferably by
him.  Damn.

The office chick gives us a snotty look and
says snidely, “Can I help you?” 

“We are here for a three o’clock appointment
with Ms. Chadwick.  Can you please let her know we are here?” Aunt Patty
states, giving her an exaggerated, cold look.

“Well, I’ll let you ladies go.  She
doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”  He smiles wide enough to show his
dimples.  “Amber, I was serious about showing you around.  Here’s my
number.”  He hands me a slip of paper, and I shove it in my jeans. 

“Uh, thanks, Tommy.  I’d like that.” 
I smile shyly, still struggling to make eye contact. 
I am such a nerd!

“See you later, Lily.”  Tommy smiles and
waves at the blond ice princess.

“Later, Tommy.”  Her lips curve into a
sunny smile.  Looking back at my aunt and me, all the warmth fades from
her eyes as she says, “I’ll show you back to the chancellor’s office.”

As we walk back, Aunt Patty nudges me with her
elbow, smiling her encouragement.  Sighing, I roll my eyes.  But
inside?  I do a secret little happy dance.

***

The meeting with the chancellor was quick.
 The meeting consisted of an introduction and getting my schedule. 
Ms. Chadwick tried to give me a hard time about my low GPA but Aunt Patty stood
up for me. 
That was a shocker
. 

Lily is waiting for us as we leave the
chancellor’s office.  As we walk to the foyer, she stops and hands me
brochures and reading materials for the school, treating me to one last sneer
topped off with an eye roll. 
She’s mildly polite to my aunt but
not overly so.  My aunt and I exchange glances and turn to walk out of the
office.

As we walk to the exit door, my aunt leans into me saying, “Well, I sure
hope most of the girls at this school aren’t bitches like her.”  Aunt
Patty chuckles.

“Yeah, I hope so, too,” I mutter.  We walk to the dorms in
silence.  As we walk up the stairs to the doors of Collin Hall, I ask,
“Did you ever wish you had gone back to school after you left your
husband?”  I never knew my uncle.  He was out of the picture when I
was still a toddler.

Pausing as she reaches for the door handle, she says, “I would have like
to have gone back to college, but your grandmother was a stubborn woman. 
When she told me she was cutting me off, she meant it.  Even after I left
Larry, she stood her ground.  I didn’t have the money, and I had to
support myself.”  Her lips spread into a thin line.  “I was the black
sheep of the family - such a cliché,” she says, grimacing, pushing the door
with unexpected force, “...but that’s what I was.  Even though I struggled
to find a job, she told me I wasn’t getting one penny from her.  Not many
people wanted to hire a kid with no skills and no college education.  It
was her way of punishing me for defying her.” 

Her eyes scanned the lobby, not focusing on anything in particular, a
bitter scowl crossing her face.  “Your grandmother was one callous bitch.”

“I guess Mom learned from the best.”

“You said it.”  Her eyes narrow as she straightens her back. 
“I didn’t let anyone stop me from getting an education.  It took a while,
but I finished.  You were probably too young to remember.  I think
you were about six or seven when I graduated.” 

As we cross the lobby, we both fall strangely silent.  Stopping
abruptly, she turns to me, “Amber, what are you going to sleep on?  You
have no linens.”  She shakes her head, giving herself a playful slap on
the cheek.  Heading for the receptionist desk, she asks the attendant, “Is
there a mall nearby or do we need to arrange for a car?”

“There’s a mall on the east end of campus.  It’s a short walk from
here.  They have everything…Neiman Marcus, Saks, Macy’s, the whole nine
yards.  There’s also a Target across the street from the mall. 
Here’s a map.”

“Great, let’s go do some damage with your mom’s credit card,” she says
with a hint of mischievous glee.

“Sounds good to me.” 
Hell, that’s the least my mom can do.

***

We pile everything on the open bed, and I collapse on top of it. 
Her amused face shifts into a sarcastic smile.  “Tired?”  She
chuckles. 

“Exhausted.  I never bothered much with shopping in the past. 
I was either in uniforms or it was easier to let Mom get what she wanted. 
She always returned half of what I picked out anyway.”  I snort.

“Well, my work is done.  I’ll let you get to bed.  I better head
over to the hotel.  The plane is leaving early in the morning.”  Her
earnest stare was unwavering.  “Amber, I want you to call me if you need
anything.  Anything at all.  Don’t worry, I’ll handle your mom.” She
smiles broadly.  “Try to have fun!  Meet new people, get wasted,
sleep around…let loose!  You are far too serious for your own good.” 
Her pale green eyes crinkle at the corners.  Hugging me tightly, she
whispers, “I love you, hon.”

My arms squish against my sides in her embrace.  I raise my hands in
an awkward pat on her back.  I want to hug her back but I can’t, not yet
anyway.  It’s too soon.  When she finally pulls away, I offer, “Have
a safe trip back to Ohio.” I flash a conciliatory smile and walk her to the
elevator.

I walk into my room and plop down on the bed.  To say the day was
eventful would be an understatement.  But instead of going over and over
the drama from the last two days, getting angry all over again like I usually
do, I push it out of my mind. 
New beginnings.  I hope so. 

My mind eventually drifts to Tommy.  His sapphire eyes are amazing
and the dimples turn me to jelly. 
He sure is hot.
  I wonder
what his lips would feel like, on mine.  My mind drifts to wondering what
they would feel like down there, too. 
Where did I put my rabbit?

I scrub my face and put on my usual shorts and tank, snuggle into my bed
to review my schedule.  I am signed up for the basic curriculum – math,
English, history, tennis, and political science.  Tennis throws me. 
I can’t believe she signed me up for my favorite sport.  I didn’t think
she remembered.  I’m surprised it’s not ballet or some shit. 
Shit,
who am I kidding? 
Aunt Patty selected all my classes.

Around midnight, I settle into my comfy pillows with my new down
comforter and drift off to sleep dreaming of gorgeous men with penetrating blue
eyes.

***

The door crashes open.  The lights flash on.  “What the
fuck?”  I rub my eyes trying to focus.

In walks a tall, blond, “Helen of Troy” supermodel.  Her blinding
smile stuns me.  Laughing, she staggers as she bubbles excitedly, “Hey
Roomie!” 

“Hi, I’m Sally Westin, your new roommate,” she says giggling and swaying
in front of my bed.   “You’re Amber Turner, right?”  She squints,
struggling to make out the alarm clock on the nightstand.  “Wow, is it
really one a.m.?”  Shrugging, she goads me.  “Wake up, wake
up.”  She raises a bottle, “I brought Tequila and limes, or as my brother
calls it, Ta-kill-ya.” 

She shuffles to the kitchenette without even a slight interest in any
objection I might have.  Her short skirt sashaying as she moves. 
Banging the bottle down as she bumps into the table, she laughs, holding her
finger to her puckered mouth, “Shhhh.”  Pulling a lime from the bag on the
counter, she grabs a salt shaker, pulls out the cutting board, and takes a
knife from the drawer.  Toeing off her ankle boots, she kicks them to the
corner.  Her feet glow with hot pink neon socks.

Her face lights up.  “We need music.”  Running to her dropped
bag, she pulls out her phone, scanning her music.  Looking up from the
floor, she asks, “What kind of music do you like?”

My hands wash over my face as I try to come alive from a dead
sleep.  “Uh, older or newer stuff?”

“This isn’t a pop quiz, sweetie.  Never mind.  I got
this.”  LMFAO blares from her phone.  She moves, getting into the
music as if she’s forgotten I’m in the room.  She dances over to her
rolling suitcase deposited on the floor by the empty bed, opens it, and
extracts two shot glasses.  She smiles, looking down at her collection of
brightly colored glass in awe.  Looking up at me with a sheepish grin,
shrugging offhand, she says, “I like shot glasses.”  Standing up, with a
slight sway, she recovers and dances back to the kitchenette.

She wobbles as she pours two shots and glances at me.  I wave at her
from my bed.  Giggling, she takes a short dash, sliding on the hardwood
floor.  Her hands stick out like a surfer for balance, stopping only when
she knocks into my bed.  Clutching my hands, she pulls me up.  “Get
up.  Come on.”  Once on my feet, she pulls my hand, nudging me to the
table, “Have a drink with me.”

Her contagious energy takes me along for the ride. 
She brought
Patron silver…cool.
 

Saddling up to the table, we sit and settle down to the business of
taking shots.  Licking my hand, I shake on the salt.  Burning the
entire way down, the liquor warms my stomach in an instant as I finish the shot
off with the sour lime.   It’s smooth…really smooth.  My first
shot, thankfully, is enough to get me going.  Sally follows taking a shot.

“So, tell me about yourself,” she says, pulling her ponytail out, her
blond hair cascades down her back like she’s in a shampoo commercial.

“Not much to tell, really.”  I shine her off, eyeing the empty shot
glass. 
I don’t know about this.  I’m not much of a drinker.
 
My stomach does a slow turn.

“Come on!  We’re going to be living together.  There’s not much
to tell?”  She eyes me with a skeptical look.  “Ok, I’ll start. 
I’m from Birmingham, Alabama.  I went to school in Bama last year, but I
needed to get away, so I applied here.  I’m undecided right now.  I’m
trying to get all my gen Ed classes out of the way. My family wants me to major
in public relations, but I love fashion.  I’d like to incorporate the two,
but I need to sit down with my advisor on how to do that.  I doubt my dad
will go for it anyway.  I’ve been here for one semester.  I roomed
with another girl last term but that didn’t work out, so now I’m here.” She
smiles, “Ok, your turn.”

“I’m from Chicago.  I spent last year there, and now I’m here. 
I got here yesterday,” I say with a shrug. 

Sally pours two more shots.  “You’re going to make me pull it out of
you, aren’t you?”  She says with a smirk.  “Ok, why did you leave Chicago?”

Licking my hand, I shake on some salt.  I study the glass,
hesitating or pondering, I’m not sure which.  The subtle scent of agave
and citrus caress my nostrils. 
Hell, it’s been too long since I got my
drink on…what the fuck.
  Slamming the shot, I suck the lime for all
it’s worth.  The liquid warms my stomach and loosens my tongue. 
What
the fuck.  Why exactly do I care if anyone knows my mom is a bitch?
 
“My mom threw me out.  Well, she didn’t really throw me out.  She
shipped me off to another school again.  I’ve been in boarding school ever
since I was six.  I came home for the first time last year.  I
thought I was coming home was so we could be together as a family – my parents
and I – turns out, she merely needed me to smile and wave for photo ops while
she ran for office.”  I demonstrate my best beauty pageant wave to an
imaginary crowd.

“Wow, your mom sounds like a bigger bitch than mine.  My sole
purpose in the family is to marry well.”  She lifts her nose like a Queen
looking down on her subjects.  “My brother, on the other hand, is the heir
apparent.  The sun rises and sets on him, as far as my dad is
concerned.  You would think in this day and age, a dad would be interested
in both his son and daughter when it came to the family business.  But not
my dad, he’s old school.  My contribution to the family is to marry
someone from a good family and spew out the babies.”  She imitates what I
am sure is her father with a frown, tapping her fist on the table.  “A
proper business merger.”  She giggles, putting a finger to her mouth
sarcastically feigning a questioning stare, “Funny…they didn’t bother to check
and make sure I was hetero when they mapped out my life.”  She laughs out
loud, her chocolate brown eyes twinkling.

“You’re gay?”  I ask surprised.

“Yeah.  Do you have a problem with that?  If you do-” she says,
rising to leave.

“-N-no,” I say, gesturing for her to sit back down.  I shrug. “It’s
cool….really.”  I sneer and roll my eyes.  “My parents sent me down
to find a husband, too.  They want a degree, but I think they could care
less if it was in basket weaving or nuclear engineering.  Marrying well is
my primary objective as far as my mom’s concerned.  That is so fucked up.”

“Yeah, someone needs to tell them it’s not 1955.”  Sally pours a couple
more shots.  This one goes down easier…much easier…I can feel the buzz.

“What’s your mom like?” I ask.

“She’s your typical lady who lunches.  She spends her day getting
spa treatments, shopping, getting drunk with her friends, but calling it
‘lunching’, and banging the latest tennis or golf pro.”  She walks over to
the kitchen counter to grab another lime.  As she grabs one, she places
her finger on her chin, her eyes cock to the side, and sinks into a deep curtsy
saying, “She’s a model southern belle.”  Giggling, she slams down into her
seat.  “Whoa, I almost fell on my ass.”  She laughs and shifts in her
seat.  “So, do you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, or both?  No
judgment,” she raises her hand, “but I appreciate it when someone doesn’t
automatically ask if I have a boyfriend.”

“I had a girlfriend for a bit.” I explain.  “
Angela.  She
was great…
really
cool.  And beautiful.  She was fucking gorgeous.
  Tall,
she had the most creamy mocha skin.  Super athletic.  She ran every
chance she got.  Her hair was really pretty.  She had long curly
chocolate brown hair.  When she wore it down, it
fell
right above her ass
.  Stunning.  And she had the most piercing
dark brown eyes
-
They were almost
black.  When she looked at you, it almost felt like her eyes could burn
right through to your soul, seeing you for who you really were.  She was
intense.”

“Bad break-up?”

“Nope, she died.”  Grabbing the Patron bottle, I pour us two more
shots.  I lick my hand, shaking the salt, yanking the shot back, and
slamming the glass on the tabletop.  All in an attempt to fill the silence
with some kind of noise.

“Wow.  I’m sorry.” Her eyes darken with sadness as she reaches to
squeeze my hand.

“It’s ok, really.”  I move my hand and pour another set of shots.
 “
I've had a few boyfriends, too. 
I
like the person, ya know?  I don’t give a shit if it’s a
girl
or a
guy.  I
guess you could call me an equal opportunity lay
.”  I smile trying
to reassure her that it really is ok.  I toast to ambiguity, and slam my
shot, forgetting about the salt and lime.  Leaning in, I say, “My first
love was Josh Sanford.  He crushed my heart when I was eleven.”  I
giggle eager to clear that pitiful look off her face.  Her iPhone shuffles
to another song. “Ooo, I love this song!”  Jumping up, I turn it up and
rock out to “I love Rock and Roll.” 

Sally heads to the cabinets to search for munchies, her hips swaying to
the music.  “Damn it.  No food.  Oh, well.”  Closing the
empty cabinet, she sings the chorus with me at the top of her lungs.  
We dance like lunatics, jamming and singing to Joan Jett.  

“So, do you have a girlfriend?” I ask, collapsing into my chair. 
Licking my hand and shaking salt on it, I toss back another shot. 

“Nah, I’m not the settling-down type.  At least not now.”  Her
face lights up.  “It’s college!  Who wants one dish when you are in
front of an entire smorgasbord?”  She winks as she salts her hand,
slamming a shot, yelling, “Oh yeah!”  I’m right behind her, sucking
greedily on the lime.  “How about you?”

“Well, I met this guy today that was really hot.” 
My voice
sounds almost wistful, what the fuck is that all about?
  Shaking my
head, I say, “He’s way out of my league in the looks department, though. 
I think he’s older, too…Nice to look at, though.  Tall, dark curly hair,
stunning blue eyes, nice ass.” Leaning in and cocking my brow, I slur, “
Damn
nice
.  Muy caliente.”  Shrugging, I say, “Hey, it took my mind
off things at home.”

“What’s his name?  Maybe I know him. “

“Tommy.  He works for the school chancellor.  He drove me in
from the airport.”

“Tommy Bolt?” she asks, surprised.  “Here, time for another shot,”
she says, pushing the filled shot glass back at me.

“Yeah, I guess so.  I didn’t catch his last name.  He gave me
his number, let me look.”  I cross the floor failing to walk a completely
straight line, pick up my jeans, and pull out a massive mix of tiny slips of
paper.  Flipping through them, I fish out the slip he wrote his name on,
and attempt to focus my eyes.  “Yeah, Tommy Bolt.”

“Girl!  He is smokin’.  And sweet!”  She shrugs and smiles
as I gape at her.  “Hey, I appreciate a good looking man.  Cute is
cute.  And, he’s just this side of a gorgeous.”  I sit back down at
the table.  She smiles proudly. 
What’s with that look?
 
She studies me for a moment, appearing to attempt to focus her tequila goggles.
 Her eyes graze up and down.  “Yeah, I can see it.  You’re a hot
little number yourself.”

“What?  No, I’m not.”  I sneer at her.  “You’re drunk.”

“Stand up.”  She pulls my arm upward, forcing me to stand before
her.  “Ok, turn around,” circling her finger around.  “Yeah, your
butt is to die for, nice bubble.  Perky tits, but it means you aren’t tied
to a bra.”  She grabs her massive melons with both hands.  “Not like
these puppies.  I love going without a bra, but it usually causes riots
with the men folk.”  She smiles glibly, blinking her eyes rapidly. 
Looking down my backside, she notes, “Great legs even for a small fry.” 
Pulling me down abruptly back into my seat, she grasps my chin to get a closer
look at my face.  “Hmm, love the hair.   Not many girls can
handle pale pink hair.  Hmm, blue eyes.”  Concentrating she says,
“Huh, you have white crystals in your irises?  Pretty.  Nice full
Angelina Jolie lips, nice nose, you got the whole package.”  Settling back
in her chair, as if it is decreed, she stares at me. 

“Right.” I say, “I’m too short, and I have no tits.”

“Now, why in God’s green earth do you think you don’t measure up?” 
Raising her palm to me, she says, “Never mind.  We’ll work on the old
self-esteem crap later.  If we get into it now, it might kill my
buzz.”  Giggling, she licks her hand, salts up, glancing at me. 
Shaking her head with a grin, she slams her shot, waving her hands to the
beat.  “Turn that song up!”

Reaching for the phone, I turn the music up again.  Maroon 5 and
Christina Aguilera blast for us to move like Jagger.  Laughing, Sally gets
up and does her best Mick Jagger imitation, flapping her arms like a chicken,
pursing her lips, sticking her butt out, pointing to the imaginary
audience.  What a goof!  Pulling me up, we dance like geeks,
freestyling to the music and being total dweebs. 

Sally staggers to the kitchenette laughing as she grabs more limes. 
Sloshing tequila as she pours more shots.  “Wait…did you say you have his
number?”

Dancing I say, “Whose number?”  The phone shuffles to Ke$ha.  I
hate that I love her music.  Its techno dance music, and I love it. 
The furthest thing from rock, you can get.  It’s so not me…but she’s my
guilty pleasure. 

“Tommy’s….You should
sext
him.”  She
dances around the room.  “No naked pics or anything…just spicy words,
that’s it.”  Her golden brown eyes blaze as a mischievous smile curves up
on the side of her mouth. 

Damn she’s sexy.
 

Grabbing her hands, I smile at her wondering what she would be like in
bed.  Shaking my head, I say, “Nah, I would sound like a dork.”  I
dance along imitating her steps.  “I just met him.  He was probably
just being nice.  A guy like that has girls fawning all over him twenty-four/seven,
I’m sure.”

“Come on.  It’ll be fun.”  She strokes my arm, her mouth
stretched into a wicked grin.  “Nothing too risqué, just something to keep
him thinking about you.”

“What are we fifteen?”  Raising my hand to signal I am stopping this
train as I rock out.  “He’ll think I’m a dork.”