by Ava Harrison
Leaning in to her, I gently trail my finger down her features.
Touching. Memorizing the feel of her skin. Her jaw buckles tightly and I pull my hand away.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?” Her mouth begins to tremble. I swallow to steady my words, to hide the emotion in my voice.
“I was wrong. I was wrong about everything. We can’t do this. I realize that now. You have your life ahead of you.”
“You-you’re ending this with me?” she stutters, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
“Lynn, it’s for the best.” The words fall out of my mouth with conviction. There’s no room for hesitation. My mind is already made up. “We can’t keep this up. No matter how much I want this, it’s not right. We need to stay away from each other.” She doesn’t speak and the silence stretches between us until I hear a soft, strangled sob escape her lips. “I’m sorry,” I say, turning my back, needing air.
Needing space.
But most of all, needing to not see her fall apart. Because if I do, I won’t be able to go through with this.
Sometimes you have to put others first, even if it hurts them to do so; that’s what I just did. And even though I stand by my decision, it feels as if shrapnel is ripping a hole through my heart. A hole I’m pretty sure will never fully mend.
With no hesitation, I walk out of her room without a backward glance. Shutting the door to that part of my life.
I’M SLOW TO GET TO school today; my red-rimmed face still shows the telltale signs of my early morning. I dread having to see him, but I have no choice. I need to be strong and walk in the door.
The door creaks behind me as I make my way to my seat, and the sound draws Carson’s eyes up to mine. The look he gives me is vacant, unlike anything in the past, and it makes my back stiffen. I continue to stare at him and wait for a change, but when he makes no move to smile or acknowledge me, I slink down at my desk.
So, that’s how it’s going to be.
I’m lost in my thoughts during the entire class but he doesn’t call me out on it. It’s as though I’m completely invisible. After the bell rings to mark the end, I wait. Once every student leaves, I walk up to his desk. He doesn’t look up when he speaks.
“What can I do for you, Miss Adams?”
“Oh, now I’m Miss Adams again? You end things with me and we go back to that?”
“This is how it has to be. I’m sorry.”
“But why?”
“It’s for the best. Right now you have to finish school and—”
“No. I get that. You dumped me. But why are you treating me like this again? What the hell happened?” My voice echoes through the room.
His eyes dart up. “Please keep it down, okay?” he whispers.
I shake my head. “I just don’t get it.” His face hardens. It’s as if a mask descends upon him. He’s no longer my Carson. The way he looks at me is cold. Detached.
“What’s there to get? We can’t be together and I need to keep my distance. This is for the best.” He halts his movements. “I’m going to speak to the principal about switching—”
I need to get away.
I hurry out of the classroom and down the hall.
IT KILLED ME TO SAY what I did, but I had no choice. I’m done giving her false hope that this can actually work.
It can’t.
As much as it pains me to hurt Lynn, this is the only course of action I can take.
I had to let her go, but like an open, festering wound, it stings and burns.
Why does doing the right thing feel so wrong?
Pulling me from my thoughts, Lauren sashays into my room, full of confidence and one hundred percent shaking her hips to show off her assets. I want to groan. I can’t deal with this now.
“Hey, Carson, I had so much fun last night.”
“Yeah, me too,” I respond. She smiles brightly, and I have no clue how she’s buying the crap I’m selling.
“We should do it again sometime.”
“Sure,” I mumble, but I don’t even look at her. When I do, I need to get out of here.
The week has put me on edge. Every day that passes gets harder and harder. I’m slipping into old tendencies. Getting angrier more and more, unable to calm myself as easily. It doesn’t help that Lynn came to talk to me again today. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to take her pain away, but instead I gave her no solace—unsmiling, never deviating from my plan. Doesn’t mean I’m not hurting too, but in order for her to have the life she deserves one of us has to be strong. That responsibility falls on me.
“Hey, Carson.” I turn to see Lauren walking up behind me, as I’m about to enter my classroom. “A group of us are going out tonight.”
I know where she’s going with this and going out tonight is the last thing I want to do. “I’ve had a long day already and it’s not nearly over.” I knead at my temples for emphasis.
“Does this have anything to do with Miss Adams? I saw her leaving your class before. She looked ready to cry.” Her eyes narrow. “Spending too much time with a student can be misread, Carson. I consider us friends and I—”
I lift my hand. “I’m not sure what you are talking about, Lauren, but maybe you’re right. Maybe a drink would do me good. Let me know where you guys are going and I’ll stop by.”
“Oh, good. This will be fun. Maybe we—”
I look at my watch. “Oh, shit. Is that the time? I have to prepare some papers. Can you let me know where to go before the end of the day?”
“Sure.”
“Bye, Lauren,” I say as I look at the stack of papers sitting across the room on my desk, basically dismissing her.
Not how I want to spend my evening at all, but I guess Lauren has left me no choice.
HOURS LATER, I TURN THE corner after leaving my sixth period class and see Carson speaking with Ms. Stuart. She throws her head back into a boisterous laugh as she runs her hands down his arm. Walking past them, I hear her giggle.
“I can’t wait for tonight.”
What the fuck is tonight?
As soon as the last bell of the day rings, I hightail it to Carson’s classroom. He’s walking toward the door to leave as I step inside.
“I know what you said last week, but what the fuck? Only hours after leaving my bed, you’re with her? I know you don’t want me, but still. I can’t stand watching you talk and flirt. It kills me.”
Grabbing my arm, he pulls me deeper into the classroom so no one can see or hear us. “She was asking about you, okay? This morning, right after I rejected her invitation to join a group for happy hour, she implied that she saw—”
“I don’t care what she thinks she saw. Every time she touches you—”
“You don’t care now, but if it gets back to anyone, it can ruin your chances at college, and my career.”
“So, that’s what it’s about? Your career?”
“Yes. I mean no.” He runs his hands through his hair and thinks for a minute. “It’s part of the reason, yes, but I also don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“So, you’re going out with Ms. Stuart because you don’t want to see me get hurt?”
“There’s a group of us.”
“Same difference.”
“This is the best way.”
“But it does hurt me.” My voice is soft, weak.
“I know, and it hurts me, too, but—”
I shake my head at him. “It’s fine. I’ll see you around.”
It isn’t fine.
I’m not fine, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be, but I won’t tell him that.
THIS IS THE LAST PLACE I want to be right now. The idea of socializing with anyone, let alone a group of teachers from Cranbrook, sounds agonizing at best. Like waterboarding or some other form of medieval torture. But I’m here because I can’t have Lauren second-guessing my relationship with Lynn. I’m not willing to take that chance.
That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Unfo
rtunately, getting out of it isn’t an option.
I tried. Lord, did I try. It’s not that I don’t like the staff at Cranbrook; I just really want to be alone. The thought of having a forced conversation in my current mood sounds awful. But avoiding Lauren throughout the day wasn’t in the cards. She eventually found me, and once cornered, informed me we were all meeting at McDougal’s for happy hour at six o’clock.
Once school finishes for the day, I don’t bother to go home. Instead, I opt to work on my lesson plan to delay the inevitable. An hour and a half later when I finally walk into McDougal’s, I’m taken aback. As much as Lauren said people from work would be here, I wasn’t expecting this many people. Nearly all the staff is congregating around the far end of the bar, and it looks as if they already started the party by the way they are laughing.
“Carson,” Lauren exclaims when she sees me and waves me over. “We’re all doing shots. Want one?”
“Sure.” Why the hell not? The idea of taking the edge off and being carefree like everyone here is a welcome one.
She lifts her arm to the bartender and a middle-aged man inclines his head to her as he walks over.
“Another round?” he asks.
“Yeah, but this time add one more.” The bartender nods and pulls out a bottle of Patron. “Don’t forget, extra chilled.” Lauren laughs as if this is a running joke. She turns her head back to me and smiles. “It’s been a hell of a week. Is it just me or are all the kids crazy?”
I think back to the week, and Lauren is definitely right. Although I can’t blame Lynn for her icy demeanor toward me, it still leaves a horrible feeling in my chest. One that hopefully a shot will help wipe away.
“You have no idea,” I murmur under my breath and Lauren raises an eyebrow in question. I don’t clarify, just shrug. Luckily, the bartender returns with our drinks before she can press the issue. We all make a giant show of clinking our shot glasses and saying, “cheers.” The tequila burns my throat as it goes down, coating it and hopefully burying all the shit that’s running through my brain.
Five shots later and a happy, faint buzz swirls through my body. Not sure if it’s the drinks or the company, but suddenly I’m having the time of my life. It feels as if a huge weight is lifted off my body. I like this feeling.
I turn to Lauren. “We should do this again.” Her lips part in a wide smile.
Her eyebrows rise. “Just us?” The underlying sensuality in her words is not lost on me.
Just us. Should I do it? Should I go out with Lauren?
This could be the exact distraction I need to get over Lynn.
“I’d like that.” And as the words leave my lips, I realize I mean it.
MY IMAGINATION IS WREAKING HAVOC on me.
I know he’s out with her. Again. I wonder what they’re doing tonight. Will he kiss her? Will he fuck her like he fucked me? Do they have a future?
No, I won’t think about that.
My head feels as if it’s splitting open. I rummage through the medicine cabinet in my bedroom with no luck. Shit. I step out of my room and make my way to my mom’s bedroom. Hopefully, she had the decency to leave the Advil when she packed her stuff. I look in her medicine cabinet and find little orange bottles lined up, but I’m not sure what they are, so I push open more cabinets. Rip open drawers.
One pill for pain.
One pill for anxiety.
One pill because her husband left her.
One pill for the next husband who left her.
Xanax: to be taken for anxiety. If anyone is anxious, it’s me. I grab a pill, then head to my room and hope it makes tonight fade away.
I need to drown out his voice.
I need to drown out her voice.
I need to drown out all the voices.
The week flashed by in a haze. I’m happy it’s Saturday because I can’t get out of bed. It’s as if there is a jackhammer in my head. Last night is a blur. Once I took the pill I no longer cared about Carson or Ms. Stuart. Maybe my mom is on to something. From across the bed the sound of my phone ringing burns my ears. It’s hard work to grab it, but when I do, text after text comes in.
Bridget: Morning, biatch! I’m running behind. I’ll be fifteen minutes late.
Bridget: I hope you got my last text. I’ll be there in five now.
Bridget: Um . . . Yeah, now I’m waiting for your sorry ass.
Bridget: Where are you???
Bridget: I’m sick of waiting. I’m hitting up shoes. If you get this text, I’m trying on Loubs ;-)
Bridget: You’re officially rude!
Bridget: ARE YOU ALIVE????
Bridget: Well, I had a fabulous day of shopping . . . without you!
Bridget: We still on for our standing brunch at Moonstruck Diner tomorrow?
Bridget: You better be dying . . . or had your phone run over by a Mack truck and haven’t had time to go the phone store because you’re being held captive by a smoking hot man in a mask.
Bridget: Standing outside Moonstruck and it’s official . . . YOU SUCK!
I hide in my bed.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
With a big exhale, I head to the door and swing it open. Bridget is standing there with her hand on her hip and a snarl on her face.
“What the hell? You still haven’t answered my texts.”
“I’m sick.” It’s not a complete lie.
She narrows her eyes and cocks her head to the side. “You don’t look sick. You look like shit, but not sick.”
“I just threw up.”
She takes a step back. “Uh, gross.”
“Yeah, it was nasty.”
“TMI much.”
“Sorry I didn’t text you back.”
“Fine, you get a pass this once. But girl, answer your texts. I was really worried. It’s not like you to do that. I thought you died.”
Felt like it. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll text you back next time, promise.”
“You have to know I get nervous about you. You’re all alone. What if something happened?” Her eyes soften and I know she means it. I worried her, and I feel awful and selfish, but for some reason it’s not enough for me to tell her the truth.
I continue to live in my lies.
I didn’t go to school yesterday.
Or the day before that.
Or the day before that.
Hell, I didn’t even go to school today. The alcohol makes my life bearable. The pills take the edge off completely.
But even though I hid at home today, I still head over to The Kids’ Club. I dread seeing Carson, but I made a commitment. When I get to the center and step inside, I’m surprised to notice that Carson’s not here yet. Maybe my luck is turning around. Seeing him today might have been too much to bear.
From across the room, Toby is waving to me. Mustering my best fake smile, I head over to him. “Hey, Toby.”
His lips part slightly and his cheeks become rosy. Despite that I have been coming here for the last few weeks, he’s still shy around me. “Hi,” he whispers.
“So, what story do you want read today?”
“Hercules.” His eyes are wide and his little body bounces up and down in his chair. It warms my heart and makes me happy that I decided to push down my fear of seeing Carson.
I flip open the book. Toby leans into the table as I regale the adventures. Halfway through my tale, I hear the familiar screech of the door, and my chin lifts to watch. My chest rises and falls as it swings wide. Carson strolls in . . .
But he’s not alone.
His head is turned over his shoulder as he smiles at someone. Squinting, I try to make out who he’s with, but I can’t see. The figure is still hidden behind the door. Time stops as I wait. I feel as though all the oxygen has left my body. Then he steps aside, and sadness coils inside me.
He’s here with her.
He brought her here. To this place. His place.
My stomach churns uncomfortably, bile collecting
in my throat. The muscles around my heart tighten, slowly breaking. He said he’s not with her, but how can I believe him? Look at what Matt did. Men can’t be trusted. Carson can’t be trusted.
I force myself to stand. I need to say something to Toby, but I’m having trouble finding the words. I place my hand over my mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I finally mutter. “Have to go. So sorry.”
As I push away from the desk, my chair scratches against the wood floor, and draws all eyes to me. Without another thought, I push past everyone, tears filling my eyes. I think I hear Ms. Stuart speak, but I don’t care.
I’m already gone.
I wake up the next morning with a bit of a headache, but it fades away with a giant swig of vodka. I can barely get out of bed. What if they’re together now? What if they’re holding hands in the hallway?
I didn’t answer Bridget’s messages last night when she texted after I got home from the center. Today, she kept texting me again. She wouldn’t stop. She mentioned she was worried about all the school I’ve been missing and did she need to call my mom. Once I realized she was serious, I told her I had the stomach flu and that other than throwing up nonstop, I was okay and just needed to sleep. Surprisingly, she believed me and told me she’d let me rest. Little does she know I’m drinking my sorrows away. The pain starts to recede with each touch of the bottle to my lips.
A laugh escapes as I catch a glimpse of an old family picture beside my bed. Hell, not even Mom can be worse than how I feel right now. My laughs grow until I’m in hysterics. My arm feels like lead and rubber and—
In the distance, I hear the soft hum of my phone buzzing.
Where’s my phone?
I grab it from next to my bed.
Unknown number: Why weren’t you in class today?
What the hell? Through heavy squinted eyes, I begin to type.
Me: Carssoon?
Unknown Number: Yes.
Oh, that’s right. I erased his number from my phone last night. Saving the contact, I type in his name . . .
Douche Face: Are you okay, Lynn?
