Authors: Hazel Kelly
Chapter 4: Shane
Mike
threw the door open a few seconds after I knocked, his face twisted in a pained
expression- as if he were poised to plead and apologize.
"What
the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, his face hardening as his eyes
darted down the hallway to see if I was alone.
"I
came to deliver a message from Andi."
His
jaw clenched as he crossed his arms.
And
while it hadn't been my initial plan, I went ahead and punched him in the face.
He
stumbled back. “What the fuck, man?!"
I
stuck my foot in the doorframe to keep him from shutting me out.
"I
think you broke my fucking nose." His eyes grew wide as a trickle of dark
blood pooled in his cupped hands.
I
shrugged and walked inside. "Yeah, well, shitty stuff happens to cowards
who raise their hands to women."
"I
didn't raise my hand to- You can't come in here!"
I
stood and faced him where he was standing against the wall, thinking this is
what it must have been like for him to watch Andi cower before him, afraid of
what he might do next.
"The
punch was actually just a gift from me." I swung the front door shut with
my foot.
His
ugly mouth fell open.
"Andi’s
message is that it's over, and she never wants to see or speak to you
again."
He
rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. I'll believe that when I hear it from
her."
"You'll
believe it now," I said, planting my hand on the wall beside his head as
he lifted the bottom of his shirt up under his nose. "Because if you ever
so much as look at her or text her again, I'm going to come back here, and next
time I won't be alone."
He
scoffed. "Is that a threat?"
"Yeah,
Mike. It's a threat."
He
craned his neck back. "What are you going to do? Sick your lackey frat
boys on me?"
I
stared down my nose at him. "Why don't you clean yourself up before you
make a mess," I said, moving farther into the apartment.
The
first thing I saw was the Bowie book. It was on the low coffee table in front
of the couch in a stack of other large hardbacks next to a little hair clip.
I
thought of the last time I saw Andi with her hair down. It was the same night I
saw her and Mike at the bar.
She
only took it down for a second, but I remembered how shiny it looked as it fell
around her shoulders in loose waves. Everything seemed to move in slow motion
as she ran her fingers through it.
She
clipped it back again right away, and I remember having this weird feeling that
the moment wasn't enough, that I wanted more.
It
was a feeling I'd had regularly around her since we were sixteen, and it was
always at the strangest times. Like the first day I noticed her collarbone-
like really noticed it.
Or
the first time I saw what her toned legs looked like in heels. Or that New Year’s
Eve in high school when a bunch of us squeezed into my buddy’s van to go to a
different house party and she ended up half sitting in my lap.
I
had to think about Jabba the Hut to keep from getting hard. If memory serves me,
later that night was the first time I ever…
Mike
cursed in the bathroom and turned the tap on, interrupting my train of thought.
I
pulled a plastic bag from the back pocket of my jeans and slid the Bowie book
and the clip inside. Then I looked to my right and saw his cracked bedroom
door.
I
pushed it open and tried not to look at the crumpled sheets where he'd probably
put his hands on her, where they'd probably had make up sex dozens of times,
where he'd probably buried his face in her silky hair and…
I
swallowed and tried to focus on the task at hand, finding her boots by the desk
a second later. They were tall and black, and regretfully, I'd never seen her
in them before.
I
folded them in half and shoved them in my bag.
Then
I saw her iPod on the desk. The headphones were already wrapped tightly around
it, and I didn’t waste any time adding it to my haul.
A
moment later, the hair on my neck stood up, and I glanced in the mirror beside
the desk.
Mike
was standing behind me with the metal baseball bat, his knuckles white where he
was clenching it. "I told you to get the fuck out."
"My
bad," I said in my most cooperative tone. "I didn't catch that, but I
was just leaving anyway."
Please let her leather jacket be on the back
of the door.
He
angled his body ever so slightly, and I felt the air move in front of me as I
jumped back a split second before he planted the bat in his own dry wall.
I
raised my eyebrows. "Good luck getting your deposit back after that."
He
started to pull it from the crumbling wall, but I stepped up beside it, put a
hand over his pulsing wrists, and shook my head. "Don't swing that at me
again," I said, fixing my eyes on him.
"Or
what?" he asked, keeping his hands on the end of the bat despite the fact
that I had it pinned against the wall. "You
gonna
fuck my girl? Isn't that what you plan to do anyway?"
I
didn’t dare let my mind explore that possibility. "Look, Mike. I just want
Andi to be safe and happy, and she can't be those things with you."
He
huffed and let go of the bat.
It
bounced on the floor beside my feet.
"Of
course she can."
"No.
You're going to have to find someone else to pick on."
"Why
isn't she here?"
"Because
she's afraid of you, Mike," I said, standing tall to make the most of the
inches I had on him. "And if I ever suspect she has reason to be again,
you're going to need a lot more than a bat to protect yourself."
"You're
full of shit, Shane."
"Try
me," I growled, pushing past him.
When
I turned the corner, I could see the fringed elbow of her leather jacket in the
hanging pile on the door.
I
slipped it off the hook, replaced the other coats, and draped it over my arm.
"I'm
calling Andi. This is fucking bullshit-"
I
turned around and spiked the phone from his hand.
When
he looked up to protest, I grabbed his throat. "Are you really this thick,
Mike? I don't like having to repeat myself."
He
pried at my vice grip in vain.
“If
you ever contact her again in any way- a wave, a whistle, a text- I will
personally see to it that every finger on your hands remains for purely
decorative purposes."
He
gagged.
"Do
we have an understanding?"
"Yeah,"
he croaked.
"Say
it's over."
"It's
over," he wheezed, pulling at my wrists.
I
released him then and let myself out, eager as hell to start forgetting his
face.
Chapter 5: Andi
As
I leaned towards the mirror in Shane's room to examine the split in my bottom lip,
I realized I was lucky I hadn't chipped a tooth.
How
would I have explained that to people? That it happened when I was running from
my boyfriend? The person I supposedly loved most?
Not
that I ever said it.
Mike
did, though. A lot, especially when he was apologizing for his latest outburst,
and it was always nice to hear. No one else had ever said it to me before.
But
as I turned in front of the mirror to see if his fingertips had left bruises on
the back of my arm, I began to think maybe it was meaningless.
Perhaps
whatever we had wasn't love at all.
I
thought of the people I knew who definitely loved each other. Shane and Izzy
came to mind first. They were twins, of course, so it wasn't a romantic kind of
love, but they would never do anything to hurt each other.
And
while I could recall one time when Shane scared Izzy so bad she peed her pants
a little, it was only for the sake of a Halloween prank, and he swore up and
down he didn't mean to scare her that bad.
All
he did was creep up to the window behind us wearing a scary mask… though it
wasn't half as scary as Mike's face was an hour ago when he clamped his hand
around my jaw.
I
thought he was going to break it, that my bones and teeth were going to crumble
in my mouth. I knew then- deep down- that I had to leave him.
Yet
at the same time, I doubt I would’ve been able to completely swear off seeing
him again if Shane hadn't made me promise.
I
lifted Shane's aftershave off the dresser in front of me, sniffed the spray
release on top, and hoped he would be back soon.
It
bothered me that I didn't see this coming, that I didn't know Mike was capable
of being such a bad guy. But he wasn't as jealous and controlling in the
beginning.
Then
again, maybe he was, and I’d foolishly believed it was sweet.
I
sighed and looked at the framed picture atop the dresser of Shane and Izzy with
their parents on Christmas, each of them wearing an ugly sweater and a silly
grin. Their whole family had such a great sense of humor, and the photo
reminded me that I could probably get through anything as long as they were in
my life.
The
top drawer of the dresser was full of gym clothes, which made me recall the last
time I’d seen Shane all sweaty after a workout.
Why
didn't he have a girlfriend?
I
knew there were a few girls he fooled around with regularly, and he seemed to
choose between them when he needed a date for something- which was all the time
for frat guys.
For
a while, he was spending a lot of time with a Theta whose shiny hair went all
the way to her waist. The only thing longer was her legs and- I suspect- the
list of designer handbags she owned.
Then
there was the Chi Omega with the blue eyes, blonde hair, and tight gymnast’s
body. Worst of all, she actually seemed like a nice person, though I remember
throwing up in my mouth a little once when I heard her admit to someone in the
rec center that she and Shane were more than friends.
Lastly,
there was that Indian supermodel who was in all his finance courses. And the
fact that she was as intelligent as she was gorgeous- with her pretty brown
skin and her obscenely long lashes- probably made her my least favorite.
Not
that she wasn't an alright person. They were all alright. They just weren't
good enough for Shane. Their senses of humor fell short for one. Most
importantly, they didn't know and love him.
Not
like I did anyway.
I
still remember the day their family moved in down the street. My parents
brought over a pie or something just to "welcome them to the
neighborhood" (i.e. make a good first impression and let the new blood
know they were being watched).
Anyway,
when they got back, they told me the new neighbors had a little girl my age
that I could be friends with.
This
was great news because I was seven and three quarters and quite ready to expand
my social girl. Or rather, I felt that I’d outgrown the girl at the bottom of
the
cul
de sac who always seemed to have poison ivy.
But
when I met Izzy later that day and realized she had a twin brother, it felt
like Christmas morning.
Not
only had I never met real twins before- which made them instantly fascinating
to me- but when Shane showed me how he could burn a hole in a leaf with nothing
but a magnifying glass, I knew he was the one to deliver the excitement that
had been missing from my life.
Not
that my parents didn't do their best, but I was an only child and the result of
several costly rounds of IVF. As a result, they babied me so much that
sometimes I felt like I might as well have been properly bubble wrapped to save
my mom the extra hand wringing.
Every
time I got so much as a scratch, she would act like it was the end of the
world. She took me to the doctor for every fever, every sneeze, and every
goddamn hiccup.
The
worst, though, was if I bumped my head. She'd get so panicked I'd worry I lost
brain cells that were crucial to my living up to her academic expectations.
It
was so much pressure, and although I understood it, that didn't make it any
easier.
But
when the Jennings twins showed up on the scene, all that began to change. At
first I thought it was the fact that I finally had a little gang looking out
for me. But in hindsight, I suspect it was because Shane inspired so much
confidence in people.
Not
only was he eleven constantly mentioned minutes older than Izzy, but he was a
natural born leader and his charm was the gift that kept on giving.
I'd
hear a knock at the door and listen as he greeted my mom and made a fuss over
whatever smell was billowing out of the kitchen. Then he'd ask if I could come
out to play.
But
the masterstroke was that- before we even hit the driveway- he'd say,
"What time would you like Andi to be home, Mrs. Oliver?"
Every.
Time.
And
he always got me there, too, though the onus was usually on me to come up with
a suitable story for what the hell we'd been doing all day since the truth was
often more than my mother could handle.
But
to say she was delighted that Shane and I were headed to the same college
twelve years later would be the biggest understatement ever.
So
I guess I wasn’t the only one that thought he was a good influence on me. Even
Nervous Nancy felt that he was the cure for her darkest fears.
There
was only one problem with him being so great, and that was that I couldn’t help
but compare everyone to him.
And
in fifteen years, no one had ever come close to measuring up.