Swell (10 page)

“What? You won’t have time to date? Is that all I am to you? A date? I thought I was something more.”

“You’re more, Beck. What I mean is that I need all the time that I have to get it right. Having a girlfriend doesn’t fit into the picture.”

“I’m sure partying at Hillman’s and driving around with your fucking wine jug will still fit into the picture,” I said, my throaty voice bordering on a roar. I was also sure that Christian wouldn’t be able to deny that he had needs like any normal boy.

I wanted to be mad. More than mad, I wanted to fucking seethe lava out of my pores, and pound my fists into his dashboard and his jaw. Instead, tears streamed down my face and neck. Snot bubbled out of my right nostril. And I was drooling more than a dog sitting next to a buffet.

Christian reached over and pushed my hair back off my face. His touch was so tender, like he felt sorry for hurting me. If he was so sorry, he wouldn’t be doing that.

“I don’t know what I did. I thought everything was great.”

“I still think you’re great, but I have to go do other things. It’s not you, it’s me.”

My brain told me to run away. If I could jet from the car, I would be free from this nightmare. If I could fill my lungs with sea air, I’d be able to handle it. If I could have a bottle of wine right now, I’d forget what was happening.

“Just let me out here, Christian.” I was several miles from home, the sun was almost gone and I would be in the near-empty parking lot of a vast beach where anything could happen.

“I’ll take you home.”

“No,” I said, pulling the door handle. Before I got out, I let my pathetic little self make a request.

“Can I have one last kiss?”

Christian smiled and seemed okay with the gesture, leaning over to kiss me soft on the mouth. There was nothing more, and without trying to persuade me to let him take me home, he started the car. I got out and stood there, and then decided to turn my back and start walking toward the beach path. My mind insisted it was like a movie, where the heroine walks away with her pride intact into the sunset, not looking back.

I marched straight down the many stairs of the “thousand steps” beach until I hit the sand. The air was now damp with ocean humidity, which clung to my clothes and hair. I decided to head south, carrying my shoes and crying out loud. Nobody could hear. Nobody cared. I was alone, and I wasn’t looking back. The only thing I was looking forward to was a drink.

Chapter 11

“You know you want it. You always have,” he said, pulling at my underwear. His hands frantically searched for a magical way to remove the unwanted piece of fabric. I tried to bring my knees up to h
is groin, but he put them
back down with his powerful legs.

“No! You’re not going anywhere.”

How many times had I avoided a bad situation? By the skin of my teeth I had gotten out of one close call after another. All I’d wanted on this night was to get drunk and see Christian, even if he was with another girl.

I heard a te
ar and knew that the
barrier between myself and Hillman was now gone. So I held my legs together as tight as possible.

“Open up,” he demanded when he couldn’t get my legs to move. My strength was returning, and I was able to hold back against Hillman
’s thrust. H
e grew angrier with each time that he didn’t succeed in entering me.

≈

Alexandra had half a leg missing, but she was able to get around with the help of a prosthesis. Part of her right arm was also mangled, leaving three fingers and a portion of her palm. The nails on these fingers were painted bright pink.

The girl also c
hain smoked, and wasn’t shy about it. It seemed strange to be on the doorstep of relationship hell one minute, and partying with a shark attack victim the next.

She’d been surfing in Mexico two years earlier when a shark mistook her for a seal, ripped her off her board and mauled her in the water. She lost a lot of blood, and barely made it to the hospital. When she woke up, she swore she could still feel her missing limbs.

“They call it phantom limb syndrome. I still feel everything, you know.” She kicked up her stubby leg as if to wiggle her invisible toes.

We were standing on the patio of her family’s beachfront home. Only a few hours earlier I’d been crying a river on the sand. Alexandra and her brother, James, came up to ask what was wrong. She said it was her 19
th
birthday and that I should come celebrate. Next thing I knew, I was in this fancy house with 50 people drinking and living it up. Talk about divine intervention.

I had checked-in with my parents after Alexandra convinced me to go with her. For all they knew, I was still with Christian and would be home at the time promised. It felt good that nobody knew where I was except me.

Of course, Alexandra wanted to know why I was walking on the beach and crying. From start to finish,
I told her about Christian and how I thought his friends had something to do with it all. She kept a good ear on the conversation, feeding me beers as needed while I lamented about the singular sex I’d had with Christian and that his dad was my dentist.

“That sounds crazy… your boyfriend’s dad looks in your mouth and has no clue where it’s been!”

After my speech about Christian, I decided to fill my stomach and broken heart with whatever I could find. And there was lots of that… beer and wine, but also Jello shooters, vodka and tequila. James showed me how to drink a tequila shot, lick the salt off my hand and suck on a lime wedge. It tasted heavenly, and even more important, it made me
feel
like I was in heaven.

I wandered back to the beach with a drink in my hand, holding my arms up to the late summer night sky, praising the Lord. I was thankful for my new friends. I loved that they saved me in my hour of need. And I especially loved that they got me good and drunk when I needed it most.

Just as quickly as I’d gone through my list of things to be thankful for, I fell to my knees in the sand and cried. It had only been a few hours, but it felt like a million lifetimes since I was in the arms of Christian. When he loved me and told me so, and he stroked my hair, my face, my body. Now I was alone, and with the new school year starting in a few days, all I could think about was how it would be to not be with him.

/////

If you’ve ever tried putting a key in a lock when you can’t see straight, you’d know how it was for me when I got home from Alexandra’s. It was almost 11, and I’d rolled out of her Mercedes into my driveway, unable to find my keys in my purse. After several sweeps with my hand, my keys stabbed me under my fingernails. I tried to be quiet, to sneak in, to be smart about it, but the lock kept moving away from my key. I crouched down and looked at it, trying to steady my vision and aim the key with my eyes. At first I thought I had the wrong one and panicked, trying all five of my keys until I went back to the first. It went in and opened the door.

The house was dark as I made a swift turn down the hall and into my room. It was at least an hour before I snuck into the bathroom to brush my teeth and pee — I wanted to make sure mom and dad were truly unaware that I’d only been there a short time. Concurrently, I wanted my mom to comfort and hold me, and ask what happened. That wasn’t going to occur, so I buried myself under the covers and found a few more gallons of saltwater to pour out as I recalled the day.

“I’ve gotta finish that fucking mural,” I said, slapping my forehead hard.
Dr. Rusch was expecting me in the morning, and since it seemed just a bit obvious that Christian wasn’t going to take me there, I’d have to get a ride with my mom or dad. When I thought about being in his office and having to play nice, put on a smile and hide my puffy red eyes behind a good spackling, my body squeezed together in a cringe.

It could have been the booze, exhaustion, or a crazy combination of both that caused me to sleep through my alarm clock. When I finally woke, it was an hour past the time I should have been on my knees with a paintbrush. Instead, I was on my back, stuck to the warm, humid sheets. The sun blasted through the blinds, adding even more misery to the hothouse that I slept in. I was surprised that Dr. Rusch hadn’t called to ask where I was.

Jenna had left me a voicemail, complaining that we hadn’t hung out in a week and that she was worried about me. I would have to tell her about Christian, and not only her, but also Allison. Our friendship may have been little more than necessary because of my boyfriend and booze, but now, more than ever, it would be important because it would keep me linked to him. Through Allison I could go to the same parties, games, and dances. I was going to be seen, whether Christian liked it or not. Then maybe he’d regret his decision.

For now, though, I had to get a ride with my mom to the mural job and she wondered why Christian wasn’t playing chauffeur like usual.

“He has a training session this morning,” I said, my lie whistling across my tongue and through my teeth. I called Dr. Rusch to explain that I was on my way.

“Rusch Dental Group. How may I direct your call?” Bettina put me through to
Dr. Rusch. He couldn’t have cared less about my tardiness and was obviously clueless as to the life-altering events of the previous night. I wanted to tell him that his son had broken my heart and left me on the beach, alone and scared. He hadn’t cared enough to insist that I get back in the car, if only for our last ride home together. But what good would that do? It would only tie me that much closer to the immediate pain.

At least the fraidy-cat room gave me some privacy. I didn’t feel like seeing
Dr. Rusch or Bettina every frigging moment I was there.

Painting the mural numbed my mind. Each brush stroke was long, slow and connected to my soul. The color that I placed on the wall was like cementing a part of me into Christian’s world, whether he wanted to be with me or not. Kind of like the time I saw Jenna’s cat, Toby, peeing on his new litter box, I was leaving my mark.

My dad picked me up just before lunch. He was cheery and relaxed, having spent the morning on the golf course and away from my mom. Everybody needed a break from her at some time.

“Are you feeling okay, hun? You look tired.”

I brought my hand to my face, checking the war paint to make sure it was still good and thick. He didn’t say anything about my coming home late.

“I’m just nervous about school starting.” Which was the truth, because I had to scramble and rearrange the plans I’d made in my mind. I thought Christian and I would start the year as a couple and do all the things we liked to do on the weekends, like partying. Now I was starting the year like I did the last one — alone.

Chapter 12

He slapped me again, this time against the bridge of my nose. It felt like the cartilage had moved.

“Oh God, no!” I moaned, momentarily aware that my voice was coming back, but also awakened to the fact that I was losing this battle and there was nobody to help me. No broken bottles, no pepper spray, no knee-to-the-crotch either.

“Shut the fuck up,” he shouted as his hand managed to find a weak, painful spot in my thighs. My legs yielded under the pressure of Hillman’s hands and I started
to cry because I didn’t have the strength or stamina to withstand him.

He stopped for a moment to look at me. “You know what? You’re pretty when you cry.”

≈

As a kid, I loved the chocolate sauce that turned into a hard shell when poured over ice cream. It
was like a protective barrier between my spoon and the frozen treat. I think something similar happened to my heart between the day Christian dumped me and the first day of school. I had to protect myself, and it’s not like I became a new person overnight. No, it was more like being a caterpillar in a chrysalis, hiding from the outside while I reformulated who I was.

A fuck-it attitude was now running my mind, and what had once intimidated me, now held my attention. I felt different, forced to grow up and take it like a woman. My mind reeled as I conjured up ideas for shock value. Would a mini skirt make Christian wonder what, if anything, was underneath it? Was there a way for me to tell him I didn’t need him, but that he needed me?

“I’m psycho,” I said to myself in the mirror. I had an hour before school and I felt proud and strong in my head-to-toe black armor. It would stand out, because I usually wore some kind of color, but today I was a female Johnny Cash. Until things got brighter, my clothing would reflect the dark abyss of a heart Christian had left me with.

Jenna’s mom did the first-day-of-school driving. She eyed my getup with a raised brow. Her daughter looked like her usual peaches-and-cream self — beautiful, soft, and deluxe. As for me, it felt good to be Darth Vader.

Students poured through the front of the school. Those lucky enough to have cars lounged in the parking lot, twirling keys and being in no particular hurry to find their classes. In Jenna’s car, I felt like I could make it, and that the day would go well in spite of the raw gash where my heart used to be. Then I got out. I was like a bird that’s hit the window, sensitive to touch, unable to move, and eyeing everything with a nervous look.