Unsound: A Horizons Book (16 page)

“Oh yeah? Where’d you wanna go?” I asked. Julie looked down at her hands. I knew I couldn’t push her, but Julie had a glint in her eye when I mentioned Boston. I wanted to know more.

“Nowhere really specific… maybe an Ivy League,” she added quickly and quietly.

“Hit me with the next one,” I said, relaxing back in my seat. I could see the sense of relief wash over Julie’s body. It was a balancing game with her – to see how far I could push. I was learning her cues and could tell when she wanted a change of subject. I wanted Julie to know that I was reading her, that I could feel her want to change the subject. She wasn’t the only one who could read every thought that crossed through someone’s mind.

“What did you wanna be growing up?”

“Easy,” I said, stretching and stifling a yawn, “ball player.”

“Oh, so gay porn, or…” Julie asked, a smirk on her beautiful face.

“And she’s back,” I joked with a smirk of my own, leaning forward on my elbows, “Baseball or Football, smart ass. I liked both, was good at both. I don’t know which one I would have pursued though. Well, I guess whichever one pursued me,” I added with a shrug.

“Did you ever get a girl pregnant before?”

“That’s one of the questions?” I asked, eyebrows drawn together.

“It’s one of mine… is that allowed?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not…” I responded with another shrug, “no. I haven’t,” I was looking at her face even as she looked down at her notebook, “Have you ever been pregnant?”

“I didn’t think it was your turn yet,” she said, looking up, but training her eyes on my chin.

“I was just reaching… sorry.”

“Yup, well it’s still my turn,” she commandeered the interview back to her favor. “What kind of drugs were you into?”

“Lots of pot…a little coke now and again, lots of molly. Tried acid, tried mushrooms. Alcohol was probably my gateway drug…you know…the usual.”

She laughed at my joke, understanding the need to joke about it, before she took a deep breath.

“When I was fourteen, I had a boyfriend. Josh. I was a freshman, he was a senior from a neighboring town… seventeen, had a car, was
so
cool. I was stupid, and thought I loved him. But I was also a dancer, and I was always very worried about my body. He was pressuring me to have sex but I was scared.”

“So what happened?” I coaxed, surprised at her sudden burst of information. I hoped that she would finish the story by saying she broke up with Josh and he never laid a hand on her perfect body. No such luck.

“I guess? Uh…” she paused, “he roofied me at a party. I woke up naked, sick, confused. He wasn’t there. He left me at the house the party was at.”

“Are you serious?” I asked as calmly as I could possibly manage. I felt my blood pump white-hot lava through me.

“I was stupid. I should have asked around to find out what kind of guy he was. I mean, it was my fault.” Julie’s meek voice broke through my reverie.

“That’s not your fault!” I said, trying harder to swallow my anger and respond to her, “How can you think that?”

Julie shrugged and continued with a quiet voice, “I don’t know. I mean… I was stupid to it was real, that he loved me back. I don’t really give it much thought,” she continued, brushing it off, “It’s just something bad that happened. There’s been a lot of bad that’s happened to all of us.”

“Julie…” I started, the anger subsided to a dull hum by the sadness is Julie’s voice. It broke my heart, but it also calmed me so I could focus on her words. I pieced things together.

“So wait. Does that mean he got you pregnant?” The blood started to pump in my ears again.  I pulled at the collar of my t-shirt, feeling restrained.

“No!” Julie said, eyes wide, “I mean, I did think I was for a couple of days. But I wasn’t. But even thinking that I was for a couple days, especially as a dancer, that was scary. It’s a memory that’s been buried in there for a while and I guess this project brought it to the surface. I’m sorry.

“It’s still my turn,” Julie joked, trying to lighten the mood with a lilt to her voice.

“Ask me anything,” I said, accepting her change of subject and keeping eye contact with her. I knew Julie was guarded. She rarely talked about herself; she used sarcasm to deflect any personal information. I wasn’t sure why she shared that story with me, but I wanted her to know it meant a lot. I wanted her to know that I was willing to take in every detail of her past at her own pace. If she wanted to change the subject, I wouldn’t push her.

“You sure you mean that?” Julie said, raising an eyebrow. At my nod, she started in, “so why did you start using… what triggered you being here?”

I knew the question was coming, and I wanted to tell her the truth. I just didn’t know where to start and I didn’t know how much I was truly wishing to share, so I started slowly.

“Well… there was a girl,” I started, looking down at my hands, “Actually, she wasn’t a girl… she was a woman. An older woman. I had just moved to L.A. with my dad, I didn’t know too many people. I spent a lot of time with her and I guess… developed feelings towards her.

“One thing led to another and suddenly… we were having… relations…” I trailed off as I looked up at Julie. She wasn’t writing this down like my other answers, but she wasn’t looking at me either. At my pause, she looked up at me, blinking.

“Um… I don’t really know how to explain…” I stammered, unsure of my words. Unsure of myself as I looked back down.

“I don’t want to force you, Jon,” Julie said, reaching across the table and placing her smaller hand on top of mine. 

I felt a jolt of heat run through my body from her touch. Something finally clicked open.

“It was… Claire. My dad’s wife,” I said finally. Not looking up at Julie. I felt her hand recoil. It was the one reaction I didn’t want from her – I almost thought that she was going to understand me. I peeked up through my lashes to witness her reaction but she wasn’t across the table.

Julie slid onto the bench next to me, taking my hand in both of hers. I looked over at her—a look of surprise on my face.

“I’m sorry Jon. I didn’t know it was so serious. I feel so bad for making you tell me that—I didn’t mean to-”

“Julie,” I interrupted tilting her chin with my free hand so she would look into my eyes, “I wanted to tell you. I… I don’t know, I guess I knew I could tell you.”

I held Julie’s eyes; she thanked me for sharing this with her. She truly appreciated that I wanted to share something so serious with her. She told me that it wouldn’t go in the paper, but if I wanted to talk to her more, she was there to listen.

I shifted and put my hands on my thighs, and Julie immediately moved her hand down to cover mine again. I was happy she did; I was comforted by her simple gesture. I turned my hand over and intertwined my fingers with hers. And that’s where we sat for another hour. 

I told her about my feelings for Claire. How she was young and beautiful, how she seduced me, how I fell in love with her and how the guilt set in immediately. Julie was easy to talk to because she just listened, allowed me to get it all out. 

“I realized once I was away from her that my feelings weren’t love, I just…” I shrugged and stopped speaking. I looked at Julie again. I was vulnerable, not knowing what she was thinking. Julie raised a hand to my hair and brushed it back off my forehead.

“Have you told anyone about this? Jeff? Lena?”

“No!” I said quickly.

“I’m not suggesting—I’m not going to say anything, I swear,” Julie told me.

“I know,” I said, “I just… I didn’t think I would tell anyone about this ever. I don’t know what kind of damage it would do.”

“Don’t worry about it, Jon,” Julie said, her hand still brushing my hair back and rubbing the back of my neck, “I understand, trust me. No one needs to know.”

Julie’s eyes mesmerized me; I felt myself leaning towards her. I wanted to substantiate the feelings coursing through my body and I really wanted to taste her lips again. That stolen kiss a few weeks ago wasn’t enough.

Baby-Bot started crying and Julie jumped up to check on him. The level of disappointment I felt surprised me.

*  *  *

Friday crawled by, but we were in the home stretch. We were handing in our babies and our papers at five and we had the entire weekend off after that.

Julie and I were finishing up our papers, having some quiet now that the baby was asleep. We decided to go with an angle on teen pregnancy as a way to avoid writing about the conversation we’d had the night before. We covered the basics but also added a section about how we would feel if we found out that we got pregnant.

We had decided the night before that we trusted each other with the facts in our papers and were not going to read each other’s. I prayed that Julie would stick to that, because I couldn’t have her read my paper. I blame the sleep deprivation and the emotional shit that was drudged up, but I got a bit more serious that I would have imagined.

I still only had minimal information about Julie. I knew where she grew up, all about her sister, her dance training, how smart and driven she was. No fact was too little; I couldn’t wait to learn more.

There was something about Julie that got me thinking and feeling more than the familiar rage I had bottled up for years. In no uncertain terms, I discussed how important Julie was in my life and how she changed it for the better. I was supposed to be writing the paper as her teenage husband, but I found my feelings to be the truth. It was cathartic.

Mindy

I knew I would be the last one in class today. Everyone was early, not able to wait to lift the burden of kids. Class was quick and when everyone handed in their papers at the end of class I lingered behind. I still felt short-changed on the whole project and was still bitter about it.

I knew I had to write something though – I had to turn something in. that’s why I was loitering, to talk to Lena.

“What’s wrong, Min?” Lena asked, looking up. I kept my gaze out the window, watching my teammates walk out into the sunshine. It was warm and sunny out.  Rare for Washington. 

I finally looked at Lena, holding my paper, feeling nervous.

“Is something wrong with your assignment?” Lena asked.

“Well… yeah! There was a lot wrong with the assignment!” I started, surprising myself with my declaration.

“It’s just. The thought of being so alone. Forever. You put this on me. Opened these thoughts again. The possibility of being barren. It’s bad enough that I’ve been alone at home, alone here. But alone in the future? You’re basically telling me that I’m doomed for this life. A life of solitude and–”

“Mindy,” Lena interrupted, a look of sadness on her face, “I swear to you. This was just an assignment. It’s not an omen. I’m not dooming you to a lifetime of solitude. I just wanted everyone to have different experiences. And I don’t know… I just had a feeling that out of all your classmates, you were the one who could be introspective enough to give this particular hand a true look.

“That your paper?” Lena outstretched her hand.

I paused, opening my mouth and closing it again. After Lena countered my rant I didn’t know what to say.

Sheepishly, I started, “well about the paper.”

Lena gave me a hard look and raised an eyebrow before her face softened, “do you want an extension? Because I’ll give it to you – but I would still like to read what you came up with first. I’d like to get a little more insight into your thought process. It will help me help you work through some stuff.”

I shook my head, “I don’t think I want an extension. It’s just, I took some liberties… I had a lot more feelings than a typical paper could provoke. And I know you said five-page minimum… I just… I hope you understand. This was sort of the only way to get my thoughts out of my head.” It was more than five pages, but it was mostly poetry and other more creative ways to express my feelings than I would in a standard assignment.

Lena remained silent, staring hard at my face, so I just handed over the paper and turned to leave.

“Mindy,” Lena stopped me, “I uh, grew up in a tough household. My father, well, he blamed me for my mother’s death. I wasn’t born in a hospital—there were midwives and complications and well… I lived while my mother lost her life in childbirth. I was the baby, and the only girl, and I was absolutely hated by my father because of this. I had three older brothers, each mirror images of my father—both in looks and in personality. The older I got, the more I looked like my mother, a fact I only found out through hidden photo albums.”

Lena took a deep breath, and I turned to sit. I decided I should at least look at her while she told me this story.

“As you can imagine, they all blamed me. I was alone in that house. By the time they allowed me to go to school, I was socially different than the other kids. I was shy. I was scared. I was disheveled. I wore my brothers’ hand me downs. Basically, I had no one at home. No one at school. It was really rough. Really lonely. I was a very sad kid.

“It got worse the older I got. It was middle school when my father started to drink more, that’s about when he started to hit me. I still wore my brothers’ old clothes. I still had no friends. It was easy to hide the marks he left on my body. He rarely hit my face. I think he couldn’t bear to hit my mother’s image.