Bad Romance

by Heather Demetrios

  I feel the need to defend you. You’re not a snake in the grass and, as much as I appreciate The Giant trying to help, I can’t really take relationship advice from a guy who regularly calls his wife a bitch and controls every cent she has. I mean, the way he described this Jeff guy, he might as well have been describing himself. The Giant has zero self-awareness. Why the hell should I listen to his take on you?

  He shakes his head. “It’s your funeral.”

  I stare after him as he goes inside. Just when I thought he might be the tiniest bit okay …

  You’re lucky I didn’t have a dad with a shotgun, the kind who’d say he’d blow you to pieces if you broke my heart. You’re lucky it was The Giant warning me off you and not someone I respected, trusted. And you’re lucky you called me before anything The Giant said had time to sink in.

  My phone buzzes and I slip it out of my pocket and it’s you. It’s been sixteen hours since our fight.

  I hold the phone up to my ear. “Hey.”

  “I’m a fucking asshole and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m so sorry,” you say.

  I’m quiet. I can’t get those pictures from the band’s blog out of my head.

  “Grace?” There’s fear in your voice. You think I might actually have the courage to break up with you. Don’t worry, Gavin. I won’t grow a pair for ten more months.

  “Did you cheat on me?” I whisper.

  “Oh my god, Grace. No. Fuck no. I love you. I would never cheat on you.”

  Sam’s in the swing now and he shrieks for me to push him harder. He pumps his little legs and laughs at the sky. I wonder if I’ve ever been that carefree.

  “Those pictures…”

  You sigh. “I was trying to make you jealous. Nothing else was working.”

  “What the hell, Gav?”

  “I know. It’s stupid. I just … I need you there, Grace. I can’t play right without you. That’s why I freaked out about the whole tour thing. You’re my muse. You have no idea what having you there means to me. What it does for me. And I realize I’ve never made that clear. You’re so fucking essential to me, it’s not even funny.”

  Fuck you for saying the perfect thing, Gavin.

  “I still can’t come to your shows,” I say. “My mom said if I sneak out again, she’ll make me break up with you.”

  “We’ll be careful,” you say. “Please, baby. I need you. I’m not trying to push you, I swear. And if you say no I’ll shut up about it. I promise.”

  I sigh. “When’s your next show?”

  SENIOR YEAR

  TWENTY

  The long summer is finally over and we go back to being allowed to see each other three times a week. You cheat and visit me at work, but that’s definitely not quality time. You got a job at Guitar Center, which means that there are times when I’m free, but you’re not. It’s Saturday and we’re getting ready to go out when I get a surprise call from my sister.

  “Turn around, little sis.”

  Beth is standing across the street, leaning against her car. Cue lots of screaming. She looks different—older. But she still smells like oranges.

  “Guess who you get to meet?” I say to her.

  “Is he tall, dark, and handsome?” she asks.

  “Yes. And he’s mine—keep your paws off.”

  She laughs and I hook my arm through hers and bring her to where Sam has roped you into drawing on the front porch with sidewalk chalk. You’re so good with him.

  “Nice, Little Dude,” you say, grinning at his mess of squiggles.

  “Ta-da!” he says, adding another flourish.

  You crack up. “Gimme five.” You reach up your hand and he smacks it.

  “I love you, Gab,” he says, putting his chubby arms around your neck.

  “I love you, too, buddy.” You squeeze him until he squeals.

  I don’t know what it is, but seeing you being so sweet with him makes me want to jump your bones.

  “So,” I say, gesturing to you like you’re a prize on a game show, “this is Gavin.”

  You turn and it takes you a second, but then you recognize her from the pictures in my house.

  “Is this the Beth Carter?” you ask, standing up.

  “The one and only,” she says.

  “Beff!” Sam shouts. He vaults off the porch and into her arms.

  You grin your lazy grin and shake my sister’s hand. She takes in your skinny jeans and faded concert tee. The fedora. The bad-boy car.

  “You look like trouble,” she says in such a way that I can’t quite tell if she’s joking or not.

  “It’s my middle name.”

  Bowling isn’t really your thing, but it makes my sister gloriously happy, so I insist we go. Beth’s up for the weekend, a quick visit while her apartment’s being fumigated. You’re upset because you had plans for a romantic date, but I haven’t seen my sister in almost six months, so no matter how much you beg, I’m not ditching her.

  “I think I’m open to friendship with termites,” I tell her later as we check out the assortment of bowling balls up for grabs. “I mean, if that’s what it takes to get you to come visit…”

  She laughs. “Dude, you know why I don’t visit.”

  Just one more thing to blame The Giant for. I remind myself that he shared a Klondike bar with me. Maybe there’s hope for him after all.

  The bowling alley is old—it doesn’t seem like a thing has changed since the seventies. There’s wood paneling with cutouts of bowling balls and pins. The air smells like stale nachos and grease. Across from the main counter is a small arcade with PacMan and some kind of army shooting game. There’s one of those claw games, too, where you try to get a stuffed animal or other prize with the claw. Oldies music plays on the loudspeaker and the sound of bowling balls hitting the shining wooden lanes echoes off the walls.

  “Okay,” you say, coming up to us with your bowling shoes in one hand and a ball in the other. “We’re lane seven. I insisted on a lucky number.”

  I grin. “You think we’re gonna need it?”

  “If your bowling is anything like your singing … yes,” you say with a laugh. You let me put on the Rent soundtrack in the car on the way over and I sang along to every song, doing all the parts.

  I hit you on the arm and generally try to pretend that didn’t hurt my feelings. Beth shoots us a concerned look that you miss. I just roll my eyes. She looks like she’s about to say something but I’m saved by Nat and Lys, who squeal when they see her.

  Bear hugs all around. We head over to lane seven and you tug my hand to keep us back a bit.

  “What’s up?” I say.

  “I think I’m gonna head out.”

  “What? But Beth’s here. She wanted to see you. See us, like, together. You know?”

  “Have your girls’ night. I’m gonna hang out with the guys.” You squeeze my hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You’re upset about the date.”

  You nod. “But I understand.”

  “They’re gonna think we got in a fight or something.”

  You shrug. “I don’t care what they think.”

  “I do,” I say. “I care what Beth thinks. She’s my big sister. Come on, Gav … please.”

  You sigh. “All right. But you owe me.”

  I kiss you on the cheek. “I love you.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  It’s the most awkward night ever. You and Beth seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. You bicker with each other about the scores, music, movies. It pisses me off that neither of you is trying to get along, at least for my sake. I think about your parents and how nice I am to them. I’m exhausted, trying to referee between you two and annoyed because I keep getting gutter balls.

  “Hey, I think I know what your problem is,” says one of the guys who works at the bowling alley as I’m making my way back from the snack bar. I’m guessing he’s my age, but he could be in college like you.

  I put my hands together l
ike I’m praying. “Help me, please!”

  He laughs as he leads me to a rack and hands me a six-pound ball.

  “This happens to be my favorite ball in the alley,” he says. It’s sparkly and pink.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

  He nods. “The glitter gives it extra speed.” I laugh and he smiles. “With the eight you’re using, you don’t get the lift and—”

  “Hey, what’s up,” you say, coming up behind me.

  “Tim here is giving me some pointers,” I say. I realize after saying his name that it’s a mistake—it makes it look like we’ve gotten to know each other when, in fact, I was just reading his name tag.

  “Well, Tim, I’d appreciate it if you got the hell away from my girlfriend,” you say in a calm, measured voice.

  Tim frowns. “Dude, I’m just doing my job.”

  I hug the six-pound ball to my chest. “Gav, he was only—”

  You point to the counter where a line is forming while the other guy on staff runs around getting shoes.

  “That’s your job.” You give him a little wave. “Bye.”

  Tim glances at me once more, then shakes his head and makes his way over to the counter. I hear him mutter dick, but I don’t think you catch it, which is good because you’ve got this testosterone-pumped look on your face and it’s about to get all Sharks and Jets up in here.

  “What the hell, Gavin?” I say, whirling on you.

  I can see Beth, Nat, and Lys out of the corner of my eye, all of them unapologetically eavesdropping.

  “Grace. Don’t play innocent. You were flirting with him right the fuck in front of me.”

  Beth’s on you in a second. “Hey. Do not talk to my sister like that. What the hell is your problem?”

  You narrow your eyes at her. “What the hell is your problem?”

  I step between you two. “Okay, you guys, seriously, it’s not a big—”

  “Yes it is a big deal,” Beth says. “Look, I’ve stayed out of your relationship—”

  You: “Good, because it’s none of your goddamn business—”

  “Even though, frankly, I never thought it was a good idea. But this shit that just went down,” Beth says, ignoring you, “is the kind of stuff The Giant pulls with Mom.”

  Beth knows how to hit me where it hurts. I stare at her. I never in a million years would compare myself to my mom when it comes to matters of the heart. Is she serious?

  You turn to me. “Your sister is comparing me to Satan incarnate and you’re okay with this?”

  My eyes fill with tears and I turn and run off to the bathroom like the coward I am. Nat and Lys come inside seconds later. I’m at the sink, furiously wiping my eyes with scratchy paper towels. I’m a mess—my makeup is everywhere.

  They don’t say anything, just hug me. I feel like my whole world has turned upside down. A few minutes ago you were my wonderful boyfriend and now … I don’t even know who you are. Just yesterday we played an epic game of I love you more, No I love YOU more and no one loved each other more in the world than us in that moment, I’m sure of it. I think we called it a draw after an hour, by which time we were both naked on your bedroom floor.

  “I love you more,” you whisper as you unbutton my shirt.

  “No, I love YOU more,” I say as I unbuckle your belt.

  You grin and bring your lips to the side of my neck. My breath catches and my head tilts back.

  “Nope,” you murmur against my skin. “I definitely love YOU more.”

  Your palms slide up my back and you unhook my bra, throw it to the side.

  I reach for your zipper. “Nuh-uh. I love YOU So. Much. More.”

  The door opens and Beth comes in.

  “Hey, little sis.”

  “Am I really acting like Mom?”

  Something like pity crosses her face. “A little bit, yeah. Does he talk to you like that all the time?”

  “This was the first time,” I say, dazed. Did what just happened out there really happen? “I mean, we’ve been kind of fighting because we never get to see each other—Mom and The Giant are ridiculous, you know how they are.”

  She nods, sympathetic, then turns to Nat. “Can you give us a ride home? Gavin already left.”

  “Wait,” I say, heart pushing against my chest, “he left?”

  I brush past her and run out to the parking lot. You’re just pulling out of your parking spot and I sprint to you.

  “Gavin!”

  Your window is up and your music is blaring. I have to jump in front of you to get your attention and you hit the brakes.

  “Jesus, Grace!” you say when I come around to the driver’s side.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “About all of it. I don’t know what got into Beth—”

  You leave the car running but get out and lean against it.

  “Yeah, your sister’s kind of a bitch.”

  “Whoa. Gav. You don’t even know her.”

  You snort. “Well, I don’t want to now.”

  “This is so stupid,” I say. “Can’t you see that? That Tim guy, he was just being nice.”

  “No, he was trying to get down your pants.”

  I start crying again, frustration trumping calm, and you pull me against you.

  “I’m sorry I talked to you that way,” you say. “That anger wasn’t directed at you, it was at him.”

  “Well, it’s over now. Can we just … get on with the night?”

  You shake your head. “I don’t think so, Grace. But go and have fun with your sister. I’ll see you … whenever your parents let me see you again.”

  There’s nothing to do but kiss you good-bye and go find the girls.

  Later, back at the house, Beth climbs up to her old bed, the top bunk, and dangles her legs over the side.

  “So that was awesome,” she says drily. Her long dark hair is up in a messy bun and her eyes stay on my face, watching me.

  I collapse onto my bed and groan.

  “He’s usually not like that, I swear. It’s just been hard lately. With school and stuff.”

  We’ve been fighting a lot since college started. You’re realizing just how lame dating a girl in high school is.

  “I didn’t know it’d be such a big deal,” you say. “But, man, I tell people my girlfriend’s in high school and I get these looks like, ‘What the fuck?’ Like I’m a fucking pedophile or something.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Why am I apologizing? It’s not like I can control being seventeen any more than you can control being eighteen. But I feel like I have to. Like, by being who I am, I’ve done something wrong.

  You sigh and rest a hand on my thigh. “Well, at least I’m getting laid now.”

  I shoot you a look and you laugh.

  “Don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean,” you say.

  Do I? Because I’m not so sure. What am I to you now? An embarrassment? A piece of ass? Because that’s how I feel. But I don’t say anything, just crawl into your lap and pretend things are okay. Because if things aren’t okay with us, then nothing’s okay.

  “He giving you a hard time about being in high school?” she asks. My sister has always been kind of a mind reader.

  I sigh. “Gav says people react like assholes when they find out.”

  Beth nods. “That makes sense. I mean, going to college, you really leave everything else behind. High school seems so young, even if it wasn’t that long ago.”

  “Do you think he’s gonna break up with me?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. That’s up to you guys.” She hesitates, then slips down the ladder and sits beside me on my bed.

  “Are you happy being with him? Because you seem stressed.”

  “I—”

  I’m about to say, Of course I’m happy, everything’s great, but then I realize … I don’t know if that’s true.

  “I guess I just feel kind of confused,” I finally say. “Between stuff here at home and Gavin being in college
, everything feels like a mess.”

  “You want my advice?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Always.”

  “I think he’s hot and I know him being a cool rocker guy adds to his appeal. But … he’s not very nice. Do you know what I mean?”

  “No, I don’t,” I say, my voice hard.

  “Come on. The comment about your singing?”

  My face reddens. “He was just kidding.”

  “What about him freaking out on that guy?”

  “Gav is … overprotective.”

  You’ve started making more and more comments about guys lately and I can’t tell if it’s me or them you don’t trust.

  Beth snorts. “That’s one word for it.” She slings an arm around my shoulders. “I’m getting a bad vibe, little sis. And you know my vibes are always right.”

  Unfortunately they are.

  “I love him,” I say.

  “I know. That’s the problem.”

  My phone buzzes—it’s you.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I say.

  “Don’t be gone too long—I want quality sister time. There’s Ben and Jerry’s!”

  I promise to hurry. I answer the phone on my way to the backyard.

  “Hey,” I say as I settle into one of the patio chairs.

  “Hey.”

  Neither of us says anything for a minute.

  “Was that our first fight?” you say.

  “Well, we’ve been kinda fighting a lot lately. I’d say that was our first big fight.”

  “I think I know how to avoid this kind of stuff,” you say.

  “Okay…”

  “We should make a rule—about being with the opposite sex. Like, I’m not allowed to be alone with any other girls and you’re not allowed to be alone with any guys. Then we can avoid shit like this.”

  I’ve already been following your no touching rule. I haven’t hugged any of my guy friends for months. It was harder than I thought, which made me realize maybe you were right to make that rule all along. I was definitely too touchy-feely. But I’m not sure I’m up for another rule.

  “That’s kind of impossible if a conversation in public counts as ‘alone,’” I say.

  “Well, tonight you could have just said thanks and I have a boyfriend and left it at that,” you say. “Like, don’t keep talking to him.”