Authors: Ellen Harper
I charged the room to my emergency credit card and flopped down in the middle of the giant king size bed. It was incredibly soft and once I lay down, I realized how absolutely exhausted I was. I hadn’t been sleeping well in weeks, between dreading Dad and Sandy’s wedding, actually going through with it, and then all that happened with Dom. It was odd; we’d only fallen asleep together once. I was glad that I didn’t have a lot of memories with him where we were just cuddling. I knew how easy it would be to torture myself with thinking on things like that, and it made me happy that I was able to lie down without feeling tormented every time. The bed smelled clean and fresh, and it was relaxing to be somewhere that wasn’t home.
I knew I couldn’t keep running forever, but it was working right now.
In the morning, I got up early and grabbed a bagel from the complimentary breakfast table. I was hungrier than I’d been in days, and the bagel tasted amazing. It was a few hours’ drive to the school I was seeing, and I tried to concentrate on the school itself, not the squirmy memories of Dom that kept pushing themselves into my brain. After how much I liked Allegheny State, I expected to love Cumberland University even more.
Except that it was horrible. I got lumped into an orientation group of ex-jocks and frat boys that looked like Dom on steroids. I didn’t know what was worse; that I was surrounded by hooting morons that didn’t even sound like they’d graduated from high school, or that they ignored me, too. It was like I was invisible. It felt just like being in high school again, and that gave me an instant dislike of the college itself. Even though the campus was beautiful and the buildings were gorgeous and Neoclassical, I couldn’t get past my potential classmates.
By the time I left, I was feeling really shitty again. It felt just like being smacked in the face and being reminded that I wasn’t pretty enough to tempt Dom into being with me.
I bet he wouldn’t have that problem with Desiree
, I thought sourly, remembering the perfect blonde, topless in my living room. I sped all the way home, gritting my teeth and clenching the wheel so hard that my knuckles were white. I could feel myself boiling over and despite trying to think of good things, like Eric and Allegheny State, I couldn’t get over my anger.
I hated Dom. I hated him because every time I tried to move on, I was reminded that he existed. I’d remember everything about him, but none of the bad stuff. It was easy to think of how he’d held me and kissed me and apologized to me, and then even easier to remember the apparent ease with which he dumped me. I beat a fist on the steering wheel, making the horn blare quickly.
It’s not fair
, I thought to myself.
Why am I stuck with him in my life?
When I got home, it was late. Dad was in the kitchen, reading the newspaper with his glasses on. I grabbed an apple from the counter and sat down, tossing it in my hands. “Hi,” I said meekly.
“Hi,” my dad said, not looking up from the paper. I bit my lip.
“Dad, I really am sorry.”
“It’s okay, Michelle. I just want everything to be okay.”
“It will be. I’ll be gone pretty soon.” I looked at my dad; he’d finally taken his eyes off the paper and he was watching me.
“You don’t have to, you know,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“I know.” I took a bite of the apple. It tasted mealy and flavorless, and I set it down on the table with disinterest. “But I think it’s for the best.”
“Probably for right now,” my dad agreed. “You’ll be back for holidays, though.”
“Maybe,” I said breezily. “I’m not sure, I know med school is going to keep me really busy.”
“I bet,” my dad said drily. I got up from the table and tossed the rest of my apple in the trashcan, heading upstairs. My dad didn’t say anything else to me as I left, and I walked up the stairs as quietly as possible. I knew Dom was probably home, and I didn’t want to bump into him by mistake.
My room looked like a disaster zone. I knew I’d been there for over a week, but that didn’t account for the clothes and papers scattered everywhere. Shaking my head, I cleared my bed and tossed my open suitcase on top. Grabbing a hamper, I stuffed dirty clothes in it and headed out to the washing machine. Thankfully, there was no sign of Dom or Sandy. Back in my room, I sorted through all my papers. There were no fewer than six copies of my med school essay, and I burned bright red to think about Dom and the inspiration for writing it. I thought about throwing them away, but then I had the paranoid thought of someone in the house reading them so instead, I tucked them in the outer pocket of my suitcase.
It wasn’t long before I heard my dad calling me downstairs for dinner. I ignored him at first, but knew I couldn’t do it forever, and soon, I heard thundering footsteps on the stairs.
“Michelle, dinner’s ready,” I heard Dom say from the other side of my door. Wincing, I called out that I’d be down soon. I could hear him waiting there and I stamped my foot, silently willing him to just leave. Even though I knew I’d be downstairs with him in only a short time, I wanted to delay it as long as I possibly could.
Finally, I heard him sigh and shuffle back down the stairs. Clearing my throat, I waited a few seconds and followed him into the dining room. Dad and Sandy sat around a nice table with pieces of roast chicken in the center. I sat down and looked at my plate, feeling strange. For once, Sandy stayed quiet as she and my dad talked about how unseasonably cold the weather had been. Dom scrolled through his phone, avoiding my glances. I couldn’t believe that he could just sit across from me like nothing had ever happened. It was infuriating.
“Michelle,” my dad began, clearing his throat. “What did you think of the school you saw yesterday? Are you still planning to stick around close to home?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “The people in my orientation group were pretty weird.”
“Well honey, you’re going to meet all types of people!” Sandy chirped, smiling at me. I nodded at her.
“I know,” I said, trying to make my voice sound less patronizing than I thought. “But I could still find a school where I get along with more people.”
“It’s not easy when you have an attitude problem,” Sandy said breezily, helping herself to some chicken. I frowned. I didn’t know if her comment had been bitchy on purpose, but it had stung. I wasn’t the one with the attitude problem; she should talk to her fucking son!
“Mom, don’t be weird,” Dom said calmly, taking a big swallow of beer. “Michelle’s under a lot of pressure right now.”
“That’s right,” my dad said, unconvincingly. I blushed, embarrassed to be the center of the conversation.
“Sandy, what are you working on now?” I asked.
“Oh,” she said dreamily, gazing up at the ceiling. “A series of portraits of your father.”
Dad blushed and cleared his throat. “Please,” he said. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous to immortalize someone you love,” Sandy said in a singsong voice, and I instantly thought of Dom and his painting of me. Abruptly, Dom pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. We all looked him, confused.
“I’m going out,” he said thickly, draining the rest of his beer glass. “Gonna hit the VFW for a couple of hours. Don’t wait up.” I felt anger surge through my body like wildfire. I
knew
he was going out to pick up a girl. Looking at him standing there cockily, I wasn’t sure how I’d ever liked him. I wanted to slap the smirk right off of his face. As I stared daggers at Dom, he avoided my gaze; a pro like usual. Tears began to well up in my eyes and I bit the inside of my mouth to avoid crying.
“Domenic,” Sandy said, raising a finger. “Be careful. You know I don’t like you drinking and driving.”
“Sure, Mom,” Dom replied, grabbing his keys from the wall and stuffing them in his pocket. “Later.”
I watched him walk out the front door, almost confident that he would turn back and beg my forgiveness. Except he never did, and I was left alone. I pushed my chair back from the table and stood up, eyeing Dad and Sandy.
“I’m leaving tonight,” I said quietly. “I’m going to look at some schools in California.” The words came out of my mouth before I even knew what I’d said. I hadn’t even planned on going that far away, but as soon as I’d said it, I knew I had to go. I knew I couldn’t be happy at home, not with Dom around, and not with my dad pleading ignorance at every turn. Maybe that’s why Sandy was so ditzy and manic; she couldn’t deal with the fact that she’d done a completely shitty job raising her son. Domenic was the worst kind of worst; he managed to somehow seem successful and mature, but still could only think of himself and what he wanted. I pitied everyone who would fall in love with him in the future; I knew they would only be miserable. The only person Dom was capable of making happy was himself.
“Honey, can we talk about this?” My dad asked. Furiously, I shook my head no and ran upstairs. As I was packing, Dad came to the door and knocked but I wouldn’t let him in. After a few minutes, I heard him sigh and turn away. Since I’d spent so much time working on my room earlier, it took me almost no time to pack. The sun was just setting as I threw my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed my suitcase. Being in the house was killing me, and my tears started to fall as I ran down the stairs. Dad and Sandy were both gone, and suddenly I was filled with bitterness towards them, too.
Fuck them,
I thought angrily.
They don’t care about me, and they never will. Nobody will ever care about me when Dom’s around. He gets away with everything!
I knew it wasn’t rational to be angry with my dad and Sandy, but I couldn’t help it. I knew that if they knew the truth, they’d likely be on my side, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. Telling Eric had been the hardest thing in the world, and even though I’d felt enormous relief after we’d talked, I knew that I likely wouldn’t ever tell anyone else again. Not even a therapist, if I even decided to go to therapy. The humiliation of having everyone find out that I was in love with my stepbrother would probably kill me, and I knew that sometimes therapists weren’t as nonjudgmental as they claimed to be.
Tears blinded my vision as I drove frantically to the airport, praying I’d be able to get on a flight soon. I didn’t have a ticket, and I didn’t care; at some point, I realized I didn’t even have some of my things. But it didn’t matter now, nothing did. All that mattered was getting the fuck away from Domenic Thomas, and forgetting that I’d ever met him.
I sped to the VFW, desperate for a beer, a whiskey, anything to get Michelle off my mind. Being around her was way too much to bare, and I didn’t think I could stand to be away from her for a second longer. Just when I thought I was starting to feel normal again, there she was, making that cute little face or biting her lower lip. She was the most desirable woman I’d ever seen (and I’ve seen a lot), and the urge to make her mine was constantly in my head.
It hadn’t always been like this. When we were in high school, I knew I liked her. And I knew she liked me; she was always incredibly obvious about flirting. She’d blush or laugh too loudly at the things I said. I’m ashamed to admit now that I took advantage of her feelings, and of the feelings of lots of other girls.
Even though Michelle wasn’t traditionally gorgeous, or what any of my friends would have called ‘hot,’ I always thought she was special. To me, she stood out in a sea of superficiality and too much makeup. I could always count on Michelle to look the same, and I really respected her for that. Deep down, I knew that she was unhappy with her life, but I didn’t realize why until we were much older. In fact, I think I liked her all the more because of her independence and unwillingness to go along with everyone else. My buddies all used to tease me for being friends with her.
“Are you fucking her on the side?” They’d ask, jeering in my face. “I bet she’s a total kinky slut!”
It always pissed me off that guys ragged on Michelle, and I started feeling really protective of her as time went by. She may have thought that no one noticed her in high school, but that wasn’t actually true. In truth, I knew that some of my friends thought she was cute and wanted to ask her out. They were just too intimidated by me to do so. When we were 15, I was in the locker room with some of my buddies, changing before a game.
“Hey Dom,” I heard my friend Ryan ask. “What’s the deal with that quiet chick you walk home with sometimes?”
“Her name is Michelle,” I said, pulling on my pants. My feet were damp from the shower and it was a struggle; I fell down to the bench, knowing everyone was laughing at me for being so clumsy.
“Her name is Michelle,” all my friends sang out in a singsong voice. I glared at them.
“Fuck you guys. She’s my neighbor, what am I supposed to do? Ignore her?” The shame with which I dismissed Michelle back then makes me angry, even now. I bet I deserve for her to ignore me just as much as she’s already doing.
“Well for one,” my buddy Scott leaned in. “You could introduce me.”
“Fat chance,” I smirked. “She’s too good for you.”
“Oh, because she knows how to read?” Scott glared. “Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you!” I bantered back, laughing. Everyone laughed; it was the currency of being a male in high school to throw around the f-bomb like no one was listening.
“Seriously, though,” Scott leaned down. “She’s hot, and I bet she’s a virgin.”
“You’re not going out with her!” I exclaimed, shoving him back. Scott clattered into the lockers and immediately got his feet, glaring at me.
“Fuck off,” he said again, reaching out to shove me. My buddies started paying attention and soon they had us circled, yelling: “fight! Fight!”
I took a swing at Scott’s jaw and missed, propelling myself forward with the effort of it and clanging into a water fountain on the wall. My elbow made sharp contact with the metal and I yelped, groaning and righting myself before Scott could come at me. My vision was blurry, but as I saw him charge towards me, I ducked back and caught him in the jaw with a sharp right hook. He went down instantly, and I stood over him, watching as he gingerly touched his nose.
“Is it broken?” I asked, leaning over and giving Scott a hand. He glared at me before wrapping his hand around mine and pulling himself up.
“I don’t think so,” he replied in a muffled tone. “That was a helluva punch, Thomas.”
“I know,” I grinned. “I got your ass good!”
“You did,” he conceded, pinching his nose to stop the blood.
“I meant what I said,” I replied, looking down at him. Scott and the rest of my buddies were still a few inches shorter than me and I never let them forget it. “Don’t fucking talk to her. Don’t stare at her, don’t make jokes when she walks past. Don’t embarrass her because it gets you off. Just stay the fuck away from Michelle.”
“Fine,” Scott relented. I held out my hand and we shook. He muttered something about me being a bastard under his breath, but I knew he would be good to his word. Scott, Ryan, and the rest of our team knew I was the alpha, even though I was only 15. They knew I was already getting the best pussy in school, and if they wanted to get laid, chances are they shouldn’t piss me off.
Obviously, I never told Michelle about this little incident. I couldn’t imagine that she knew how guys really acted in private, and I didn’t want to scare her. I felt bad whenever she complained to me that she was basically invisible to all guys, and the one time she told me about some nerd asking her out, I went to his house later and made sure he never spoke to her again. I couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting her, of taking advantage of her kindness and love.
Even though I was too selfish to realize it at the time, I know now that I wanted to keep Michelle from the other guys because I wanted her for myself. And it kills me to know how vehemently I would have denied it, too. If you’d asked me, I would have lied until I was blue in the fact to keep from anyone finding out. Although in retrospect, I’m pretty sure my buddies knew. They knew I was protective of her, but I tried to just make them think it was a platonic thing.
So when that fateful afternoon happened in our senior year, I couldn’t believe what I’d done. Michelle had clearly given herself to me, but she had no idea what an important gift it was. Her virginity was so special and the fact that she just handed it over to me was unbelievable. I had taken advantage of her obvious feelings for me, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did it again.
When I left, I thought I was doing the right thing. I understand now that I was worlds away from doing anything mature or correct, but I did what I thought was best for Michelle at the time. I thought that if I disappeared from her life, she’d have a chance at happiness after all. I knew that I was hurting her by leaving, but honestly, I felt like with time, we’d both get over what happened and be able to move on.
Except that wasn’t what happened at all. The more time went by, the more I realized how much I loved and needed her back. I felt like I had to become a better person in order to really deserve her love, so I worked on that. I quit drinking and hooking up with random girls, and I quit encouraging my buddies to do the same. Then when I got hurt playing baseball and the surgery was a flop, I knew that I wasn’t meant to be an athlete after all. I’d been painting my whole life, and my mom was incredibly supportive and encouraging. With her help, I went to art school and really got started on something that managed to make me feel fulfilled and almost happy. I say almost because, by that point, I knew that I’d never be happy unless I had Michelle.
Just when I was starting to get back on my feet and thinking about looking her up, Mom called to say that she’d been spending more and more time with Archie. It wasn’t’ a surprise, after all, they’d been neighbors for almost 20 years. But it did catch me off guard. Mom never dated when I was growing up; she always had lovers, but nobody regular. I’d never tell her now, but I feel like that’s one of the reasons why I was so promiscuous myself. I was still surprised when she told me that Archie popped the question, though.
“Can you believe it?” She’d asked, clearly beaming on the other end of the phone. “A nurse and an artist together?!”
At the time, I’d laughed because it was tough to imagine Mom and Archie with anyone, much less each other. Mom was always so carefree and laid back, she never let anyone tell her what to do or showed that she was dependent on others for any kind of attention. But she just loved Archie; I could hear it in her voice. And Archie was something else. He was always kind of a stern and quiet guy, and I knew he loved Michelle with all of his heart, but he hadn’t exactly been around when she was growing up. Most nights, I saw her bedroom light on by itself while the rest of the house was dark. As we got older, she told me that he often worked nights because it was easier to make more money that way. I imagined that it would bother her, but nothing really fazed Michelle. At least not outwardly.
The last week had been the most joyous and painful of my entire life. I couldn’t believe that she’d come whirling back into my life with such a fierce intensity. And she showed up looking just as beautiful as ever. It was too much to bear; I didn’t even think I’d be able to stick around after the wedding. But Mom had convinced me.
“You don’t want to leave her on her own, do you? Didn’t you always say that you felt she was lonely?”
As batty as my mother is sometimes, she can make a good point. So I stayed, even though it was harder than anything I’d ever done. Watching Michelle and remembering every single little gesture that she made was torture. It was like being stabbed with a thousand knives all over my body. I never expected to break down in front of her, but after days of fighting, I was emotionally worn out. I hadn’t expected to feel so jealous when I saw her flirting with another known playboy, and I felt like it was my fault for breaking her in the first place.
But this type of loneliness was a new low. I’d never really been alone; even in the art world, I was unfortunately as popular as ever. I knew people got a kick out of a muscled jock being a great artist, but I didn’t just want to be a novelty. I wanted people to take me seriously. My mom always said that was my biggest problem, but now I realize that I don’t want everyone to take me seriously. The only person I need is Michelle.
When I got to the bar, light snow had started to fall and the parking lot was empty. I shivered as I got out of my car and headed inside, expecting to see people clustered by the bar. Only a few people were there, nursing whiskey or beer. I took a seat in the middle of the bar by myself and ordered a whiskey, neat.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” the bartender, Amy, greeted me. She was a handsome woman in her late forties, and I used to flirt with her after I’d had a few too many. But I never went to bed with her, and I never wanted to. Amy was safe; she was like a friend of my mom’s or something.
“I’ve been busy,” I said darkly, draining half of my whiskey in one shot. “Hit me again.”
“You don’t have your usual swagger, hon,” she said, leaning back on the bar and wiping the surface with a dishrag. The bar smelled of disinfectant and spilled beer and I discretely coughed into my hand. There were a few smudges on the glass I was drinking out of, but I didn’t mind.
“It’s a girl,” I said, hoping she’d drop the subject. Instead, Amy raised her eyebrows at me and stared.
“Are you going to tell me about it?” She asked, stepping forward and looking at me with a saucy expression. I shook my head no tersely, and she rolled her eyes and sauntered back down to the other end of the bar.
I had no idea what I was going to do.