Golden

by Andrea Dickherber

  “What?” She feigned innocence. Or ignorance. Or maybe it was an honest question.

  “We can’t.”

  “Nothing’s going to go on,” she said firmly.

  I stared at her. “Why do you want to?”

  “Free drinks. And the music is too loud anyway.”

  She was hurting. I could see sadness in the corners of her eyes, and I could tell by the firm line of her jaw that for whatever reason, she was adamant about this venture. I could feel myself capitulating already to what she needed from me.

  As we stumbled out of the club, ushered by the two boys – what were their names? Oh, God, I knew them, but in that instant I couldn’t remember – who were steadying us by the crooks of our elbows, I glanced back over my shoulder, looking to make eye contact with Deena or Teegan, but neither of them was on the dance floor where we’d left them. I hoped someone would see us, would stop us, but then I was out on the sidewalk, away from the doorway and the thumping of the music and it seemed like the moment when I could have changed my mind had passed. Whatever was happening now, I would go along with it, because there seemed to be no other choice.

  “This way?” Rudy pointed straight ahead down the street, her arm outstretched, the tip of her yellow painted fingernail a light to guide us.

  “Yeah, like two blocks.” The boy on Rudy’s arm nodded.

  “Ours is that way, too,” she added.

  The ocean breeze outside was cool against my skin, and it ruffled the bottom of my dress. I held on to the hem with both hands as I teetered along the uneven sidewalk, preventing it from blowing up around my waist, though the wind wasn’t nearly that strong. Strands of my hair blew across my face and got stuck in my lip-gloss, and I tried to spit them out of my mouth while still grasping at the dress with both hands. The boy beside me laughed, then smoothed the hair behind my ear.

  Standing outside the hotel lobby door, it took the guys three tries before they were able to successfully swipe their key card. Once inside, my heels clacked noisily on the tiled lobby floor. We all stood quietly with our arms crossed over our chests, avoiding awkward eye contact as we waited for the elevator to make its way back down to the first floor, and when the button lit up and the doors parted, one of the boys swept his arm in front of the open space.

  “Ladies first,” he winked. Ew, I thought. Winks.

  Rudy and I stepped inside, leaning up against the silver metal handrails in the tiny square box. One of the boys punched the number four.

  Inside the guys’ room it smelled strongly like beer and weed. There were two low beds with a wicker nightstand in the middle – one was strewn with a few empty pizza boxes and Cheetos bags, orange dust streaked across the wrinkled turquoise bedspread and the other held two open duffel bags, clothes spilling out. The trashcan was overflowing with empty beer cans. On the far side of the room, the door to the balcony was open and salty ocean breeze blew the curtains. My eyes stung.

  “Sorry about the mess,” one of the guys quickly swept everything off the beds and onto the floor, which didn’t really seem much better in my opinion.

  “Want to sit down?” He gestured toward the seat he’d cleared and timidly, I sat beside him, the wicker poking into the backs of my bare shoulders. They turned the TV on and got us each a can of warm Bud Light, and I wished so hard to be back at the club. I checked my phone, but there were no messages from the other girls.

  On the other bed, Rudy had her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, and the guy had his arm propped up on the headboard behind her, though it wasn’t touching her at all.

  Before long, the beers were gone, and I was tired.

  “Do you have any vodka?” Rudy asked. I had thought maybe we could leave, but it seemed I was wrong.

  “Yeah,” the guy beside her sat up. He exchanged a quick glance with the guy next to me – really, I should have remembered their names. “Do you want me to mix you a drink,” he asked her.

  “Sure,” Rudy shrugged. “Please.”

  The guy next to me leaned forward and tapped my knee. “How about you?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  They stood at the bathroom counter with their backs to us, and I shot Rudy a look. She pretended not to understand. The guys returned with paper coffee cups filled to the brim with dark soda and vodka.

  I took a sip; it was disgustingly strong. Rudy had already tossed back half of hers. I set it on the floor beside the bed and stared at the TV, feigning intense interest in an old episode of a reality show, wishing I was almost anywhere else.

  A little while later I woke up shivering, my brain pounding against my skull. The balcony door was still open and the curtains billowed in the cool breeze. I sat up, alarmed and disoriented – the guy next to me was slumped against the pillow snoring. The other bed was empty and the TV cast blue light across the sheets, playing for no one. I scrambled to my feet, panic spreading through my body. The bathroom was dark and unoccupied, and the door to the hallway stood slightly ajar – bright light peered in through the crack. What had happened? Where could Rudy have gone? I grabbed my shoes and phone with trembling hands and fled from the room, my heart pounding in my chest.

  The hallway was empty, and I paused, unsure where to go next. One of the lights flickered behind a seashell shaped sconce, and down the hallway I could hear the hum of the ice machine. Then, as I wondered what to do, I heard a muffled cry. I turned and ran, clutching my things to my chest. When I reached the end of the hallway I found her, sobbing against the wall behind the ice machine, her legs bent up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees. One of her dress straps hung off her shoulder and her eyes were pressed into her kneecaps as she cried into her legs. I was equal parts terrified and relieved.

  I knelt on the carpet and put my arms around her. I pressed the side of my face to hers and I felt her tears on my cheek.

  “Are you okay?” I said.

  She didn’t answer, but she reached up to hug me, her fingers gripping the backs of my arms.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered, and I could feel her head bob up and down as she nodded.

  But there was more. Walking back to our hotel, my arm wrapped around Rudy’s waist, we crossed the parking lot at exactly the same time another group was approaching from the opposite side. It was a group of our classmates - Deena, Michael Denalby and at the back of the group, Thomas.

  I tried not to make eye contact, to slip in the side entrance, but Michael saw us and called out my name.

  “Hey, Jillian,” he yelled, his hand cupped over his mouth. “Where have you guys been. Wait up.”

  They were drunk and Rudy was still crying, and I was an unqualified intermediary standing between them. I attempted to bridge the gulf safely; leaned against my shoulder, Rudy still felt as fragile as glass.

  “Just headed back to our room,” I smiled a tight smile.

  “Oh my God, did you all leave with those dudes from the club?” Deena asked loudly. “They were hot.”

  I glanced at Thomas and saw his face tighten. Leave it to Deena.

  “Rudy! What happened?” Deena stepped toward us, her arms spread motheringly. She turned toward me, as if Rudy couldn’t speak for herself. “Oh my God I didn’t even realize she was crying.”

  “Probably nothing she didn’t ask for,” Michael said. He said it under his breath, but it wasn’t difficult to hear.

  I could barely breathe.

  “What did you say?” I whispered.

  He shrugged on an additional layer of courage and said louder this time, “She probably asked for it. It’s not like nobody knows about her and Skyler Warren.”

  “Fuck you,” Rudy said. Her voice quivered and there was snot in the corner of her nostril, but she stood up a little taller. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Seriously,” I added as sincerely as I could muster. “Just shut up.”

  I wanted to tell him how wrong he was about her, but I couldn’t get my mouth to open again
. It seemed like a very flimsy gesture anyway, one that would probably do more harm than good.

  I think maybe she expected someone else to defend her, to fill in the gap with reassurance that she wasn’t that type of girl, whatever type it was exactly Michael was accusing her of being. The cheating type? The slutty type? The druggy type? But as I looked around the circle, no one made eye contact – they all knew. Every single one of them.

  “Just defending my friend, man.” Michael slung his arm over Thomas’s shoulder, who in his defense looked as if it was an unwanted burden at that moment. “You really fucked him over, Rudy.”

  Did Thomas know? His face was heavy. He was looking at Rudy and Rudy was looking directly into his eyes expectantly, but he didn’t stand up for her either; then he shrugged off Michael’s arm and looked away.

  “Did you ever even care about me in the first place?” She searched Thomas’s face and her voice cracked. “Or was I just a convenient excuse to lose your virginity before college?”

  “You’re a bitch.” Michael reached out and pushed her away from Thomas. It wasn’t hard, but it was unexpected and she fell, her face naked with surprise as her backside hit the ground. One of her shoes flew off her foot, landing with a smack against the pavement.

  “You’re an asshole!” I lunged at Michael but the other boys were already pulling him away.

  Behind me, Rudy had scrambled to her feet again and stormed off across the parking lot.

  “Aren’t you going to say something?” I grabbed Thomas’s arm.

  His eyes were dark and full. Guilt, I realized, they were full of pity and guilt.

  “I broke up with her last week,” he said quietly.

  I retrieved her sandals – the first she’d lost when Michael pushed her and the second she’d kicked off as she ran – and I ran after her, leaving everyone in our wake. I chased her all the way out to the beach, where she ran down the sand while I screamed her name. If she heard me, she refused to turn and look back in my direction. She didn’t stop until she had run directly into the ocean, all the way out until the fingers of the dark waves reached up to soak the bottom of her shorts.

  I was panting when I caught up to her.

  “Rudy, what the hell?”

  Her face was wet, and the breeze was cool against my bare skin. The waves lapped at my knees.

  “What’s wrong?” I said. “What happened tonight? What’s going on with you?”

  She just shook her head and wiped at the tears on her face. “I just don’t get it. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

  “There’s nothing at all wrong with you,” I offered quietly.

  “I’m never going to be good enough. I fuck everything up. What am I supposed to do?”

  In the dark, her skin glowed translucently, the veins in her forearms blue beneath the surface. Her eyes were wide, searching pools. I couldn’t hold their gaze.

  If only she had asked a question I could answer. Something more along the lines of, “We shouldn’t have gone to that hotel, right?” or “Michael Denalby’s the worst, isn’t he?” For those, I could have agreed with her. With fervor, I would have rushed to her defense. For the question she asked, I was at a loss.

  Between us, the waves were flowing in and out, dragging sand with them each time, leaving the shoreline damp and perfectly smooth. Rudy stared out at the dark expanse of water. It was impossible to see where the ocean ended and the sky began. I shivered.

  “We should go for a swim,” she said after a long time.

  “A night swim,” I said, but I didn’t move. I thought back to the hot, carefree summer afternoons when we used to dive topless into the Goldens’ backyard pool after a long, sweaty run. I smiled.

  “But it’s too late for that now, huh,” Rudy said, backing slowly out of the water and up onto the sand, her footprints leaving soft imprints on its surface.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  The rest of our time in Panama City unfolded with little drama but with little innocent fun either. The next morning, the sun was bright and warm and all of the events from the night before seemed as unreal as a bad dream. Rudy went down to the lobby to get coffee, and whether or not I actually believed the cheerful façade she presented to us when she came back into the room where Deena, Teegan and I were tying on our bikinis and gathering our magazines and beach towels, I told myself she was fine. I recited in my mind that Rudy was happy: she was beautiful, she was loved, she would find other boys who would be more than willing to have her heart if Thomas wasn’t. If she didn’t want to dwell on what had happened, who was I to bring it up? In this way, I was able to convince myself that everything with Rudy was okay.

  “We’re going to the beach,” I said when she sat down on the bed, coffee in hand. “You’re still coming, right?”

  She nodded, rubbing a piece of her loose hair across her lips.

  “You can wear my blue bikini,” I said. It was the only thing of mine she’d ever asked to borrow.

  I held it out to her, two tiny scraps of bright blue spandex, like it was the best thing I could offer her. Like it was the only thing she needed from me in that moment.

  “Jill,” Rudy said over the phone. “You have to come over. I’ve got big news.”

  There was a bubble of happiness in her voice.

  “What? Just tell me.”

  I was in the middle of watching a two-hour long TV special on Britney Spears’ life story and I was still wearing my pajamas, though it was almost one o’clock on Sunday afternoon.

  “I want to tell you in person. Please?”

  I groaned, but I got up. I changed into a pair of sweatpants and walked out of the house, yelling good-bye to my parents as I shut the door behind me.

  Three weeks had passed since our senior weekend in Florida. In that time, I had been named co-captain of the girls’ track team, and I was at the top of my game in the hurdles – I was faster and more agile than ever. Coach Kline had mapped out an even more rigid training schedule for me this year, and I wanted not only to win two more state championships but to set records.

  We’d just had our senior prom, the most extravagant dance yet, and Rudy and I had gone together, in sparkling black and white dresses that complemented each other perfectly. I bought her a red tipped white rose, and I made an elaborate show, bending down on one knee to slip it over her hand while she laughed and Mrs. Golden’s camera clicked in our ears. The state track meet was a month away and before it arrived, Rudy and I were planning a spectacular, outrageous party at her house while her parents were away visiting Marta in New York. They would be gone for three nights – plenty of time to hold the party, get everyone out and get the place cleaned up – before they returned, with Marta in tow, for our graduation ceremony. We had been planning in secret for weeks, lining up our alcohol purchases and scouring the mall for the perfect dresses. We were going to go out with a bang.

  Weeks before, it had been hard for me to imagine we would only be at Ogden for another month, but now our departure felt necessary and imminent. It buzzed around the air at school, an extra current in addition to the usual teenage drama. Our graduation robes and tassels had arrived in the mail two weeks earlier.

  The trees in my parents’ yard – the same trees that lined the middle of all the streets in our subdivision – were in full bloom. Big, fat white flowers hung from the spindly branches and gave off a faint, perfumy fragrance. It was a warm April day, the sky a shade of light cerulean. A slight breeze ruffled my hair, and I smiled to myself.

  It was a good day. The perfect spring day. We should go to the park or something, I thought as I ran up the steps of Rudy’s front porch.

  She opened the door in a pretty lavender skirt and sandals.

  “Hey!” She leapt at me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  “Hi,” I breathed into her hair, which smelled like her rosy shampoo. The same shampoo I’d been buying since the first summer I spent at her house.

&nb
sp; “Mom, we’ll be back in a second. We’re going to walk,” she called behind her. She didn’t even remember to shut the front door behind us, she was pulling me down the sidewalk so quickly.

  “Why’re you so dressed up?”

  “We just got back from celebrating. We had lunch at The Boathouse. I got the salmon this time, like you said, and you’re right, it was amazing.”

  “Celebrating?” I raised an eyebrow. “Celebrating what?”

  We had made it to the end of her driveway, where the brick drive met the pavement of the street. She stopped and turned to face me.

  “Well,” she said. “That’s what I wanted to tell you about. I got into Sarah Lawrence!”

  My stomach clenched. There was a long pause, during which I considered her face. Her lovely, happy, face.

  “Sarah Lawrence? Like the school on the East coast?”

  She nodded enthusiastically, like a bobble-head doll on a dashboard.

  “Are you going?”

  “Yes!” She was still visibly excited; my reaction had yet to puncture her bubble and the juxtaposition of our energies made me cringe.

  “Why?”

  “It’s a great school.” Her voice went down an octave. “My parents are really happy.”

  I thought of Mr. and Mrs. Golden, with their Ivy League degrees and their lavish expectations, glowing at the thought of their youngest daughter tucked away at school on the east coast. They could frame her acceptance letter and hang it in the hallway beside a photo of the three of them, squeezed together in front of the school’s historic buildings, smiling gleefully, tears in Mrs. Golden’s eyes as they dropped Rudy off for her first semester so far away from home and so far away from me.

  “MU’s a good school, too.”

  “Well, yeah, but Sarah Lawrence is a really great liberal arts school, Jill. It’s really competitive. I’m lucky I got in.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to go,” I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “All girls?”