Authors: Anna Cruise
Aidan lifted his sunglasses and grinned. “Hey.” He wore jeans and a plain black t-shirt and I was glad I'd skipped dressing up.
“
Wait here,” I told him.
I padded back down the hallway and rapped on my mother's bedroom door. “Mom? I'm going out.”
No response.
I called louder this time. “Mom?”
Nothing.
I hesitated before reaching for the handle. I turned it and the door twisted open.
Her room was dark and musty, like the basement in my grandma's house, a dank place with wet, cement floors and damp, mildewed walls. It smelled old and stale and I wrinkled my nose and adjusted my breathing to short, shallow breaths. My eyes adjusted and I spied her curled up in bed, her knees as close to her chest as her swollen stomach would allow. I moved closer, taking in her sweat-dampened hair and her mouth puckered in a crooked O. Her arm curved around a bottle, a dark bottle of merlot with a duck on it. It was empty. I fixated on that bottle. Fragile and drained. Like my mother.
She sighed then and shifted positions. I backed out of the room and clicked the door shut behind me. I blinked my eyes rapidly, trying to forget the image of her and that bottle, intimately intertwined. I turned toward the front door and saw Aidan inside, lounging against the living room wall. His hair looked as white as snow against the moss green walls.
“Everything OK?” he asked.
“
Yep.” I hoped I sounded convincing. “Just saying goodbye to my mom.”
He looked around. “Your dad's not home yet?”
“My parents are divorced.” The words rolled off my tongue easily and this surprised me. It was the first time I'd had to tell anyone. All of my friends had lived through the saga with me.
He nodded. “Mine, too. When I was six.” He changed the subject then, his eyes roving the length of me. “You look...nice.”
It was a loaded word and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. He laughed and nudged me toward the door. “Come on. Let's go.”
EIGHT
Scotty Mitchell's house was a Spanish-style two-story nestle
d in the hills above Pacific Beach. Cars lined both sides of the narrow, winding street, a mix of older model cars and brand-new BMWs and Mercedes. Aidan found an empty spot of pavement half a block away. He spun the steering wheel of his battered VW with one hand as he maneuvered the car into place.
I could hear the music from where we parked, an old Blink song blaring from an open window. Aidan walked quickly, holding my hand as we made our way to the front steps. His hand was warm and strong and I tried not to fixate on the feel of his fingers entwined with mine. He pushed open the front door and strolled inside, pulling me with him.
The house was packed with people, most of them older. I stood in the front hallway, my arms folded across my chest as I surveyed the scene. People milled around a keg set up in the kitchen, red plastic cups in hand. A few kids lounged on the brown leather sofas in the living room, smoking and drinking. One guy leaned over the coffee table, his face pressed against the wood. I squinted my eyes and made out a faint line of white powder dusting the surface, a line that was disappearing as his nose skimmed along the polished mahogany. I looked away. This wasn't the kind of party I'd envisioned and I suddenly felt uneasy.
“Come on,” Aidan said.
He pulled me toward the kitchen. A few people called out greetings to him, eying me curiously. I tried to meet their gazes, to offer a smile, but my stomach felt like there were grasshoppers jumping around inside. I was way out of my league.
Aidan scanned the counters. “Any Jello shots left?”
Bags of chips and discarded cups littered its surface. One had tipped over and a puddle of beer dripped slowly to the wood floor below.
Scotty, the birthday boy, grinned and tucked his brown hair behind his ears. “Dude, I saved some just for you and your woman. In the fridge.”
He brushed past me and pulled open the stainless steel door. He removed a plastic cafeteria-type tray loaded with paper Dixie cups, all of them filled with red and orange Jello. “Here you go.”
Aidan took it from him and set it on the counter. He picked up a cup and handed it to me. “Want one?”
I took it. “What is it?”
“A Jello shot. Tastes a hell of a lot better than beer.” He held one to his lips and the red gelled liquid slid out. “Try it.”
I didn't even hesitate. I needed something to relax me, to make me feel comfortable. I followed his lead and held a cup to my lips. I braced myself as the gel pooled in my mouth.
It tasted like cherry Jello.
“
It's good,” I admitted. I set the empty cup on the counter. “What's in it?”
He shrugged, handing me an orange one to try. “Probably a little vodka.”
Whatever it was, it didn't taste anything like the bitter beer from last weekend. I finished the second one and reached for another.
A girl's voice sounded behind me. “Megan?”
I turned around. Desiree Young, my lab partner in biology, stood next to me.
“
What are
you
doing here?” She didn't bother to hide her astonishment.
She'd dyed her hair between class this afternoon and the party; pink streaks shot through her spiky platinum hair.
“Um, I'm here with Aidan.” I motioned to him.
She nodded her head at him in greeting. “Wow. I didn't even know you guys knew each other.”
Aidan grinned. “We hooked up last weekend. At the beach.” He reached for my hand and squeezed it.
I started to protest his choice of words but stopped.
Desiree smirked. “Huh. Well, have fun. Keep him in line.”
He kissed the top of my head. “That's why she's here. Keeping me in line. She's a good girl, Dez. She's exactly what I need.”
I turned to look at him. “I'm what you need?”
He grinned, a smile so wicked it almost scared me. “Absolutely.” He pushed another shot in my direction. “Bottoms up.”
I took it from him and gulped it down. That light, giddy feeling from the bonfire was creeping back and I welcomed it. Getting drunk apparently suited me just fine. Within minutes, I was laughing and smiling. I didn't think of my mother, passed out in her bed after her own drinking binge, nor did I think of the house I was losing or the dad I'd already lost. I concentrated instead on the boy standing next to me, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist as he talked and drank with the people around us.
We stayed downstairs, stationed at the bar in the kitchen. Aidan switched to beer while I steadily worked my way through the Jello, stacking the empty cups inside of each other, a neat little tower of nesting cups. Lauren Marley arrived with a couple of her friends and she stopped to talk on her way to the keg. A dark-haired guy passed by and I did a double-take.
“
What is he doing here?” I pointed at Trevor Danielson, the TA from my English class.
“
Trevor?” Aidan looked at me. “He's friends with Scotty's brother. He sometimes hangs out with us. Why?”
“
I dunno. Just wondered.” I'd never been to a party with a teacher before, especially a party where beer flowed like a river from a gigantic keg in the kitchen. He wasn't exactly a teacher, I reminded myself. Still, I pushed my stack of empty cups just a little further away, distancing myself from them.
Aidan looked at the drunken structure on the counter. “Have you had all of those?”
My tongue felt thick and loose, as though it was trying to separate from my body. “Uh-huh.”
“
Holy shit.” He laughed. “You're gonna be drunk off your ass.”
He stood me up. “Come on, let's at least get some food in you.”
I held my arms out for balance as I navigated my way toward the living room. Someone had ordered pizza and the boxes were stacked on the coffee table. Aidan grabbed a slice of pepperoni and handed it to me.
I shook my head. “I'm a vegetarian.”
He rolled his eyes. He picked off the pieces of pepperoni and popped them into his mouth. “Here,” he said, thrusting the stripped slice at me.
I leaned against the arm of the couch and chewed slowly, concentrating on making my mouth move. I watched the people around me as I ate, offering smiles to anyone who looked my direction. They smiled back. I felt happy. Liked. A part of the party, part of the group. I felt good.
I turned toward Aidan and the room shifted, veering wildly. His hand shot out and he steadied me.
I leaned against him. “Whoa.”
He chuckled. “Whoa is right. I think you need to sit down for a bit. Maybe lay down.”
He led me from the living room, gripping my elbow with one hand, his other arm around my waist to steady me. Past the throngs of people crowding around the near-empty pizza boxes, past the entrance to the kitchen, maneuvering me to the carpeted stairs.
“Where are we going?” I concentrated on lifting my left foot. Then my right. Then left again.
“
Away from everyone for a while.” He tried the first door at the top of the stairs, opening it and peering inside. “Oops. Sorry.”
A bedroom at the end of the hall was empty and he guided me inside, helping me to the bed.
“Sit,” he instructed.
I did. The room whirled around me, as if I was spinning on one of those metal merry-go-rounds at a playground, twirling around and around. I clutched the comforter and closed my eyes but the room still spun. I sank back against the pillows, trying to still the dizziness. Aidan stretched out next to me.
“I'm so dizzy,” I whispered.
“
You'll be fine,” he said, stroking my hair. “We'll rest here a minute.” He moved closer and I felt the warmth of his body against mine before I felt his mouth on my neck. He trailed soft kisses up to my ear and then down, his tongue flicking lightly against my skin.
I inched closer to him. “That feels nice,” I murmured.
His lips were hot, like fire on my clammy skin.
His hands stroked my arms, running down my sides. “I could make you feel so good, Megan.”
His fingers crept up the inside of my shirt and I kissed him as he touched me. I didn't feel altogether there, in the moment. Not then, and not later when his mouth latched on to my breast and when his hands nimbly slid down my underwear. I kept my eyes closed, swallowing back the dizziness as he kissed me, over and over. He was solid, an anchor to grip as the waves rolled inside of me and I clutched him to me, holding him tight. Minutes passed and still he kissed me, his mouth and hands becoming more urgent. My fingers dug into his back and I noticed his shirt was no longer there, just smooth, warm skin. I held him tighter. He groaned and shifted so he was on top of me. Something hot and firm pulsed against the inside of my thigh. But before I could think, before I could form a single thought to tell myself to
move
!
Stop him!
a searing pain ripped through me. I stifled a scream as it tore me apart.
My eyes flew open and Aidan hovered above me. His eyes were closed, his lips pressed together in concentration.
“No,” I started to say but he covered my mouth with his own, silencing me.
“
Yes....yes....yes.” He moved harder and faster against me. I clutched his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin but he didn't stop, not until he shuddered and slumped on top of me, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
I blinked back tears. The fuzziness was gone. Everything was razor-sharp, vivid. I noticed the grain of the white wooden shutters at the windows. The sand-colored walls of the room I was in. The white bureau in the corner, its surface covered with delicate statues of ceramic angels, their smiling, serene faces gazing across the room, directly at me. I studied the acoustic ceiling and connected the raised, bumpy dots to make taunting faces and jagged, prickly flowers and gruesome, leering monsters.
Aidan rolled off of me, a satisfied smile on his face, and I bolted upright.
“
God, you felt good,” he said, closing his eyes again. His hands fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. He was still half-clothed, I realized. So was I. My shirt was bunched up around my neck and my underwear was stretched around my ankles like a Chinese jump rope. Still, I felt exposed. Violated.
“
I need a bathroom.” My voice was hoarse.
He motioned to the corner of the room. “Over there.”
I adjusted my clothes and eased my way to the bathroom. I flicked the light switch and the room lit up, exposing walls that were painted a cool, aqua blue. I sat down on the toilet and wiped. The paper was slick with blood. My stomach heaved but I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. My hands trembled and my legs shook violently. I sank to my knees, clutching the toilet seat as tightly as I'd gripped Aidan's shoulders only moments before. My teeth chattered uncontrollably. I took deep breaths, gulping air as if it were a cool drink of water.
The bile rose again and this time, I couldn't swallow it back down. I vomited a fountain of red-stained liquid into the toilet. The porcelain bowl was a cool, hard pillow and I rested my head against it, hoping it would numb me. I wanted to stay there all night. I wanted to die.