Swell (6 page)

The last thing I wanted to do was socialize with such patronizing girls, but I knew they were part of Christian’s social life and I would have to make my own entry into their circle.

I had an easier time around the boys. They probably looked at me like a piece of meat belonging to Christian, but at least I had my identity in that. The guys from the library now talked to me like I was their buddy.

Being that everyone was now my “friend,” I had more phone calls and drop-ins than I knew what to do with. One day, Allison stopped by my house and offered to take me to lunch.

“My treat,” she chimed, looking completely innocent and honest
when she suggested we go to In-N-
Out Burger.

“I really need to work on this project…” I thought about the blank canvas in my room, the tubes of oil paint still capped and the brushes dry. There was no painting, let alone a sketch of what I had in mind for the Allan Gerry Art Extravaganza, a small contest held by a group of old ladies who went around promoting art and culture in the community. The prize was a gift certificate to the art store, which was somewhat motivating, but not as much as seeing Christian and having a drink with him.

“We need to talk,” she said, a hint of
you need to do this or you’re out
in her eyes. In an instant, my mind conjured up reasons why we should talk, and I blanked out most of them because I didn’t want to get my fears up.

With great reluctance, I took off with her to lunch, afraid that she would judge me and mess with my mind. If she even thought of bringing up whatever it was she wanted to talk about before I ate, I would have to bolt or do something drastic, like hide in the bathroom and then sneak out behind a large customer. But no, Allison was a tormentor, waiting until we had our meal in front of us, half-eaten, to spill the beans.

“Beck, there’s something important I think you should know.” She continued to eat her French fries at a casual pace, as if the topic she was about to speak of didn’t phase her. My own food was a lump in my throat about to come up.

“What is it?” I slurped at my shake to wash the food down.

“Christian… he has some problems. Serious ones.” She was one of those people who beat aroun
d the bush in order to delay
pain.

“Like what?”

“He’s an alcoholic, and you’re not the only girl he’s seeing right now.”

That pretty much sealed the deal on which way my food was headed. A hot chill ran up my spine and over the top of my head, s
pilling onto my face and
cheeks. There was no way to hide my growing rage.

“What? What do you mean he’s seeing someone else?” I demanded, ignoring the part about Christian being an alcoholic. How much he drank wasn’t as important as whether he was two-timing me or not.

“Christian is, how do I say it, loose? Last year, he was seeing three girls at the same time, until one of them showed up at school with a bruise on her face. She said he’d hit her during a blackout.” She s
wirled a fry in catsup and
ate it, nonchalant about the whole thing. I could have
sworn she was talking about
herself.

“That’s pretty serious, Allison. Do you know who he’s seeing?”

“Of course it’s serious, but I thought it was even more important that I tell you so you could make your own decisions. Just be on the lookout for competition.” I’d stopped eating by then, but Allison polished-off her combo, grabbed her keys and started for the door. I followed.

“So, if you’re with Christian and he’s drinking too much, watch out, because he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” I was preoccupied with her accusation that Christian had smacked a girl.

Later on, I told Jenna just to get things off my chest. She
th
ought
Allison was bullshitting, just to get back at Christian for something.

“She’s a jealous bitch. I bet she tried to go for him and when he said ‘no-ho’ she made it up.”

In spite of the doubts I had about Allison’s story, I was careful to watch Christian when we got together over beers at the beach. The sun had set and we were stretched out on a damp towel, feeling the afterglow of the sun.

“Christian, how many girls have you dated?” I asked, sitting up on one arm to look at him, his body a perfect arrow aimed at the ocean.

He smiled. “A few. But nobody like you
,
Beck.”

“Have you ever dated more than one girl at a time?”

Now he was sitting up, giving me a look.
“I don’t remember. Why are you asking me
that
?”

I rolled onto my back and sighed, poking my finger into my bellybutton. “I just heard a rumor, that’s all.”

“A lot of the girls tell rumors. Don’t listen to them, cause they’re f
ull of shit,” he said, a
growl coming from his clenched teeth. He took a sip from the bottle he’d hidden inside a t-shirt and laid back down. It was the end of that discussion.

Chapter 7

The voices grew louder and then they were in front of the couch. Three guys, one with bright red hair — Hillman. He wore black jeans, no shirt, and had a can of something in his hand, as well as a satisfied smile on his face. He poked at me with his can hand.

“Dude, she’s fucked-up. Did you give her something?”

“Just a little G, if you know what I mean,” laughed the tall figure, his dark hair cut into a buzz. I didn’t recognize him, but then again it was hard to really see who anyone was because my eyes felt like they’d been grazed with sandpaper.

“She’ll be good for awhile. Let’s go downstairs… I’ve got some great indica,” said Hillman, the only one I
recognized because of
the hair. Then they were gone. I opened my eyes again, just slits, and prayed to God for the strength to take the plastic wrap off my wrists so I could get the hell away from them.

≈

I assumed that because Christian and I had sex once
, that we would do it again. Wasn’t that what couples in love did? But I was wrong. After a single night, Christian never put his hands under my shirt again, let alone down my pants.

My mom and her sister were always discussing men and sex. I ignored their chatter for the most part, but one saying stuck in my mind:

“When the farmer gets the milk, he’s satisfied and thinks it’s time to sell the cow for beef.” I realized they meant that girls who give away the prize of sexual conquest are given away.

“I’m the cow,” I mused as I washed dishes one evening. I was waiting for my parents to settle on the couch so I could sneak a drink. It was too easy now to steal and pimp alcohol, but so was turning to it when I needed to get lost. If I was the cow, I was going to be a drunk one.

Christian still took me out every weekend. There were always more parties to attend, more beers to drink and more weird behavior and comments from his gallery of friends. Hillman irked me most of all. There were moments when I felt his eyes burning into me, and I pretended not to notice. He would follow me to the bathroom, and then continue going as if he’d been headed somewhere else. And he teased me with off-color remarks and gushing commentary about my appearance. Just like by the pool, when he’d stroked his stomach and I watched, Hillman wanted my attention. He was hard to ignore.

Devin the man-cheerleader and Audrey, who could have been his/her girlfriend for all I knew, were hosting a keg party at her house. I’d wandered into the yard after Christian went about his way ignoring me. The lush tropical landscape was a contrast to the dandelions and crab grass of my own yard. Thinking I was alone, I started twirling under a lantern, my mind in a fog and wanting to forget that Christian wasn’t touching me. As I tried to stop thinking about Christian’s sudden lack of physical interest, I thought my prayers had been answered when an arm wrapped around my waist.

“How come you never talk to me, Beck?” Hillman pulled me close
and
pressed his body against mine. He continued to twirl me around, making me dizzier with each passing spin.

“I talk to you,” I said, trying to stop the ride. His grip tightened, his hips now crushing into mine. I could feel him through his jeans, pushed against my thigh. His fingers pressed into my skin with ease, like I was a ripe peach.

“Let me go!”

“Why should I let you go? It’s nice here.”

“Stop it!”

“Christian’s an open guy, if you know what I mean.” He brought his face against my neck and inhaled my scent. I struggled to free my arms.

The giggle of female voices came around the trees, and Hillman let go of me so fast that I fell onto the grass. He put his hands in his pockets to hide the erection and took off.

“Are you drunk already, Rebecca?”
Devin and Audrey sang.

Audrey stooped to help me up. There were no words to answer her with, only my mind using what verbal energy I had left to figure out what Hillman had been doing and why.

“She’s totally drunk. Can’t even talk! Let’s take her inside,” said Devin who, with her strong man hands, lifted me with her shoulder and helped me to the couch. Christian came and brought me another drink, and although he sat right there next to me, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body, he didn’t touch me or do so much as slip his hand into mine to make sure I was okay.

Later that evening, as Christian and I sat in his car outside my house, I tried to make a move. I touched his thigh when he leaned over to kiss me, and my hand lingered there. When he didn’t move my hand away, I thought for a brief spark of a moment that he wanted me. But then he finally shoved me away. My heart sank and I felt like crying, while at the same time a hot fire raced through me. I wanted answers.

“What are you doing, Christian?”

He sighed and looked out the window, his fingers tapping on his mouth as his eyes fixated on nothing in particular, before turning back to me.

“I’m just having a hard time. It’s nothing. I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over to kiss me. I kept my mouth clenched, in spite of his tongue trying to push through.

“It is something. You haven’t touched me since we were in your room. That was three weeks ago! Now you won’t let me touch at all!”

He let out another deep guttural sigh, followed by stilled silence, no answers, no explanations. Just silence.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. It’s late and I’ve gotta get up early to run.”

Christian was fond of excuses  — there was the studying excuse, when he kept his face in a text book with no pictures, no color, no life. And then there was the running excuse, because there was no such thing as summer vacation for athletes. Training was a fact of life, month in, month out.

“Look, I’ll call you after I’m done and we’ll go do something.”

“What did you have in mind?” A glimmer of hope shot through my body that we would get to the bottom of things.

He shrugged, his body tense like he was going to push me out of the car if I didn’t leave. “Just get some sleep and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I didn’t need his help in extracting myself from the car. I heaved open the door and stomped across the street to my driveway. There was no looking back when I heard the car start and screech away.

/////

When Christian did his morning run, I usually preoccupied myself by sleeping in, eating pancakes with slabs of butter and cups of syrup, and hitching a ride to Target or somewhere equally as fun with my mom. I got $10 allowance each week and in spite of using a considerable amount of this for pimping beer, I still had money to spend. Today I felt like using some of it.

While my mother hit the laundry detergent and toilet paper aisles, I wandered around Electronics, eyes peeled for DVD bargains. If I found nothing, I’d probably just get an iTunes card and call it a day. I was looking at the back of a DVD when I heard a familiar voice two rows down in the CD section, so I peeked under it and saw two heads. The redhead was obvious.

“I just gave him a hard time. He’s been hanging around her too much and it’s fucking with everything,” said Hillman.

“You didn’t use the threat, did you?”

“Oh, you bet I did. He knows now to think twice about who he dates, that’s for sure.” Hillman was studying the back of a CD, looking smug about whatever the threat was.

“If I had something like that hanging over my head, I’d stay away from her, no problem.”

Threat? My gut told me they were talking about Christian… and me. Why would they have anything against me? Especially Hillman. He was always hanging around us, joking and being a buddy, unless I was alone with him. Then it was different, as if he was taking stock of all that I had to offer. It was becoming obvious that he liked me, but in a sick and twisted way. The fact that he was willing to threaten his best friend to get rid of the competition spoke volumes about his true character.

////

When I wasn’t with Christian, I was hanging with Allison and the girls. I also still made time for Jenna. She was there for me thick and thin. A true friend tells you there’s a booger hanging out of your nostril and then hands you a tissue. She tells you that your tampon is leaking and then ties her sweater around your waist as you make your way to the bathroom. And she definitely tells you when she thinks you’re getting the short end of the stick. That was Jenna, and I wanted to include her in my new social group.