Bend Me, Break Me (2 page)

I finished mine more slowly, still angry about earlier.

“Soooo, dinner?” he asked and I realized he’d been silent, letting me fume. Marty was good like that.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, throwing my can and missing. I got up and tossed in in.

“Are you really okay? You don’t seem okay. You know you can talk to me,” he said. I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile.

“Sure.” I didn’t elaborate. He shook his head at me and held the door open.

The next time I walked into economics, I told myself not to look for him. Not to see him. Not to search for his brown curls.

I failed on all accounts.

There he was, sitting in the second row near the middle, an empty seat on either side of him. Ducking into a seat in the back row, I tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. As if he’d heard me thinking about him, his head turned and his green eyes scanned the room. I looked away, but not fast enough. He spotted me and the next thing I knew, he was out of his chair and walking up the steps toward my row.

Don’t sit next to me, don’t sit next to me.

I repeated the mantra in my head and hoped it would throw him off, but he didn’t take the hint and sat down in the seat on my right. I shifted all the way to my left, nearly falling out of my seat.

He didn’t say a word. Just acted like this was something he did every day. I looked down at my bag and calculated my chances of getting up and moving before class started.

Luck was not on my side as the professor called us to order and started scrawling on the blackboard with chalk.

What was I dealing with? I didn’t even know his name. Maybe he was dangerous. The kind of person who got obsessed with a stranger and stalked them.

I started to panic, but I didn’t want to show him. I just kept my eyes locked on the front of the room and sort of perched on the edge of my chair in case I had to bolt. My pen was no longer an instrument used for writing, but a potential weapon. Why didn’t I carry pepper spray in my bag?

Keeping my breathing even was a battle, but I was determined.

“Hey,” he said in a quiet voice. I ignored him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

No, I wasn’t okay. I would be when he left me alone. Or, even better, vanished from campus and I never saw him again.

Gritting my teeth, I flicked my eyes at the clock. I hadn’t even been sitting here for ten minutes.

“Would you relax if I moved?” Now that was something I could answer. I gave him one jerky nod in response.

“Okay then.” As quietly as he could, he got up and moved to the next empty seat, so there was one between us. It wasn’t ideal, but at least I had some breathing room.

My second attempt to get Ingrid to talk to me was just as terrible an idea as the first. She was flipping out. She sat in her chair on high alert, her purple pen held in her fist like a knife. Making her terrified of me wasn’t part of the plan, so I moved away from her.

Slowly, she relaxed her posture and let her brown choppy hair fall between us. It just brushed the tops of her shoulders. I kept my staring to a minimum, but every time she moved, I looked.

The class ended and neither of us had taken a single note. I’d tried, but my pen had remained dormant in my hand.

She had to walk by my seat to get to the stairs. I got up and moved aside to let her by. She flicked a glance at me that I couldn’t read.

“I’m sorry,” I said, but she just stepped past me and headed up the stairs.

Strike two.

It was complete coincidence that she ended up in my economics class. I couldn’t get her schedule ahead of time, obviously, or figure out which dorm she was living in, but she’d posted what college she’d chosen on her Facebook page. It was a natural choice, since both her parents had attended.

When I’d told my mother and stepfather I’d wanted to attend a relatively small college five states away, they sat and stared at me for at least ten minutes. I’d made a list ahead of time to have answers for any of their objections, including the fact that South Maine University had an excellent political science program, a perfect major for a pre-law student.

“But why Maine?” Mom had said. I’d reiterated my reasons, but I knew she didn’t buy it. She shared a look with Ted that I didn’t understand, but they had agreed.

“Okay. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.” The following September they were there, helping me load up my car and a small U-Haul trailer with everything I would need for my new life. They drove behind me and my little brother Ike rode shotgun with me.

“Oh my God, this is the middle of nowhere,” he said, peering out the windshield as I got off the highway and headed into a residential area just off campus.

“Why are you doing this, again?” He was sixteen and thought I was on something when I told him where I was going to school.

“Because I am, Ike,” I said for the billionth time.

“Whatever. I’m definitely not coming to a place like this.” I snorted.

“You’ll be lucky if you get into community college, moron.” He punched me in the leg and I wanted to retaliate, but that might have caused an accident.

When I said goodbye to Mom and Todd, she cried and didn’t want to let me go.

“You call me every night at nine, you hear? If you don’t, I’m going to call in a missing person’s report and then you’ll be sorry.” She wiped her tears and clutched Todd’s hand.

He hugged me again and Ike grudgingly told me he’d miss me. Todd and Ike got in the car and I had a moment with Mom.

“You know I love you, right?” she said.

“I know,” I said.

“I love you so much and I always will. No matter what.” We hugged again and she finally let me go.

As I watched them drive away, I tried not to cry and failed. It took me a few minutes to get my emotions under control and go up to my room to unpack.

I nearly tripped and fell down the stairs when I saw Ingrid in my economics class that first day. I might not have if it weren’t for some guys who were being loud and had drawn my attention. She was sitting near them with a lost look on her face.

It was her. Right here.

Ducking into one of the back rows, I spent the next hour watching the back of her head and trying to figure out how to approach her. So far, I was 0 for 2.

“What is your deal this week?” Marty asked that night at dinner. I shrugged and poked at my rubbery lasagna.

He rolled his eyes and went to get another soda.

“Well. Something is up with you,” he said when he came back. He had a whole group of friends that he invited me to eat with most nights, but they all had something going tonight so it was just the two of us.

“Fine, be that way,” he said, and then changed the subject to a party he wanted me to go to with him this weekend.

“I mean, it will probably get busted, knowing the guys who are throwing it, but it could be fun until then. Besides, I know where the fire escape is and I can park my car strategically in case we need to make a quick getaway.” Marty was lucky because his two older brothers had also gone to school here and had passed on their wisdom. He also knew a ton of people already, but he always included me, which he didn’t have to do. Although, it did make me feel like a charity case.

“I don’t know…” I said. I’d been dragging my feet on going out socially. I didn’t care about making friends or partying or any of that stuff right now. It distracted me from the reason I came here.

“Come on. You won’t regret it.” I raised my eyebrows.

“Okay,” he conceded, “I can’t promise that, but I can promise that you
may
not regret it.” I laughed a little. Marty put a positive spin on almost everything.

“Fine, fine,” I said. I knew if I put him off too many times, he’d stop asking and stop hanging out with me and I didn’t want to live with someone who hated me.

“Sweet, it’s on.”

I was probably going to regret this.

I decided to get out of my room to study on Friday night. The library had special weekend hours and if I wanted to, I could basically sleep there and no one would bother me. Just the way I liked it.

My economics reading was drier than dry and I kept flashing back to the last couple of classes. They were now tainted by him. The guy whose name I didn’t even know who seemed to want to talk to me for some reason. I knew he saw me, just as I saw him, but today he hadn’t sat near me.

Maybe he just thought I was cute and had been getting up the courage to ask me out. That was all well and good, but I wasn’t going out with anyone. There was no point. It would never go anywhere. So, if I ignored him enough, he’d get the idea and then move on to someone happier. Someone nicer. Someone not like me.

I saved my English 100 homework for last, since it was my favorite. I hadn’t picked a major yet, but I knew I wanted to take as many English classes as possible.

My assignment was to read five chapters in
Emma
and then summarize them. I was reading the book for the third time, so I could have done the assignment without doing the reading. My professor didn’t seem to care much if we did our assignments well, as long as they were done. He would just scan them, his pen moving along the lines and then write 100 on top. I hoped my more advanced English classes would be better.

While it wasn’t my favorite Austen work, it was better than reading about that insufferable Fanny Price in
Mansfield Park
, so I had to count myself lucky in that respect.

I ended up curling up on a cushy chair in the back corner of the third floor of the library and reading most of the book, my earbuds playing music softly.

It was nice. I rarely got moments of pleasure like this. I allowed myself a smile. The action was strange and unnatural. I had no idea what I looked like when I did it. Not good, probably.

I used to smile. I used to laugh. I used to be a lot of things. Now I didn’t know who I was and didn’t plan on figuring it out. Just getting through the day was work enough without putting that on the list.

My eyes got heavy and I let myself have a short nap, setting my cell phone alarm to go off in an hour. There wasn’t anyone around, so I didn’t worry about disturbing someone when it went off.

The alarm rang much too soon and I didn’t want to open my eyes, but I had to get back to my room. I packed up my bag and stretched my back and neck until they popped before heading out.

I enjoyed campus at this time of night. It was quiet and still. Most of the parties happened off-campus, so noise on Friday night was rarely an issue. Walking alone was probably not the best idea for me, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about a whole lot anymore.

As I walked, I started writing a new poem in my head, but all I could come up with were random words with no definitive order. My muse, or whatever was responsible for the words in my head, was finicky and showed up whenever she wanted.

Just as I reached the front door of my dorm and was ready to swipe my card to get in, a group of laughing girls burst through, nearly smashing me in the face with the door.

“Oops, sorry,” one of them said and then they were off, all holding onto one another. They were happy. I remembered being happy.

Driving around with my best friend Beth, looking for anything to do in our small town. Going to pep rallies and cheering like maniacs for our school. Birthdays and Christmases and holidays. Fireworks and ice cream and swimming in the lake. Hanging out in someone’s basement and sneaking beer from the fridge. Laughing uncontrollably over some inside joke. Worrying about my eyebrows and shaving my legs and if I was going to get asked out.

Gone. All gone. Taken away.

For a moment, I imagined myself running up to those girls and asking where they were going and if I could come.

But it wouldn’t be real. I could pretend to be them. Pretend to be happy, but that wouldn’t make it true.

Sighing, I walked through the door and headed toward the stairs to my room.

I didn’t leave my room for the rest of the weekend. Much like the weekend before that. It was probably what I would end up doing next weekend, too.

I napped, did my homework and then some, binged on bad TV, got a few naps in and subsisted mostly on granny smith apples, peanut butter, crackers and tea.

I finished another poem and posted it. I wanted to take it down immediately, but I always felt that way, so I let it stay up. Most of the time I didn’t read the comments since sometimes they weren’t very kind. I’d only started posting my poems this summer after following a bunch of other poets and wishing I could do my own. So I did. And I allowed myself a smile when I got up to 100 likes.

I stared out my window on Sunday afternoon and watched the people walk by below. Judging by their attire, it was a warm day, unusual this late in the fall. Once again, I thought about going and joining them, but closed the curtain instead.

Sunday night it happened again.

I had the nightmare and woke up just before I started screaming, my body shaking and sweating and my heart pounding so hard I was afraid it was going to smash my ribs and break free of my chest.

It had been a few weeks since I last had it, and I’d thought, maybe, it was gone for good. But it was never gone. Would never be gone because it wasn’t a manifestation of my fears that would never happen. It
had
happened. This was just a replay. Putting me through it again, repeating the past and ripping me apart again.

Sitting up, I brushed my sweaty hair out of my face and got out of bed. My television was still on, so I turned up the volume and turned on the lights. I wasn’t sleeping again tonight. My hand shook on the light switch and as I reached for a bottle of water.

I had considered using sleeping pills to get me through the nights, but the nightmare still came, only in a warped fashion that was somehow even worse. So I was stuck this way.

I wanted to read, but I knew that would tire my eyes but not my brain, so I forced them to focus on the frenetic movements of the characters in one of my favorite shows. Reaching into the fridge, I grabbed an energy drink and took a couple of sips for good measure. I didn’t like the way it made me feel, all shaky and nervous, but it was better than having the nightmare again.

Anything was better than that.

She was pale on Monday, as if she was sick, or hadn’t slept. I’d noticed that on the first day. That she had dark circles under her eyes all the time, just barely visible under a layer of makeup.

It made me want to ask her to tell me why she wasn’t sleeping. It made me want to give her a hug. Hold her and tell her it was going to be okay. I wanted to do… something.

I seized my moment when she was leaving. I’d taken the seat closest to the stairs and above her, so she’d have to walk by me when she left.

Her eyes stayed on the steps as she ascended, both hands gripping her backpack straps, as if she needed something to hold onto.

“Hey,” I said as she passed me. I knew she saw me.

She didn’t answer, so I got out of my seat and walked behind her. No one else noticed our interaction; they were too busy with their own lives.

“I’m not a stalker, I swear,” I said and it did the trick. She stopped and slowly pivoted around to face me.

“What?” She met my eyes with hers and it nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. I had to swallow a few times and remind myself that she had no idea who I was.

“I said that I’m not stalking you. In case you were worried I was going to show up at your dorm room in the middle of the night or something.” I tried to play it off like a joke, but it didn’t work very well.

She blinked at me a few times and I thought she was going to turn her back on me again, but then she opened her mouth.

“What’s your problem?” Well, that was a loaded question without an easy answer.

“Nothing. I just… I don’t know.” I shrugged and her brows drew together in confusion. I’d thought so many times about getting to this point and now I was fucking it up again.

“You just… think I’m cute? Want my number? Want to take me back to your room while your roommate is gone, bang me and then tell all your friends about it and never speak to me again?”

Whoa. Of all the things I expected her to say to me, none of those had crossed my mind. Her eyes darted around as people passed by. I was making myself late for my American Government class, but I didn’t give a shit at this moment. Because she was actually talking to me.