Coercion

by Lux Zakari

  Thinking of Breeze made his stomach drop like a defective elevator. He was almost glad he had an appointment to see his advisor—it gave him something else to worry about instead of whose lap his ex-girlfriend had her blond head in now.

  Michael shook his head, as if trying to wake himself from his own bad dream. Knowing he couldn’t delay the inevitable forever, he finally gave a reluctant knock, announcing his arrival before twisting the office door’s metal knob. He stuffed the rolled-up notebook in his back pocket as he stood before Professor Steele, who sat at her large wooden desk, hovering over a plastic container of buttery pasta.

  “There you are, Michael!” Professor Steele lowered her fork and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin. “Please excuse me, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up for our little meeting so I started my lunch. Did you lose your way?”

  Michael gave her a smile that was more like a scowl as he sat and slouched in an uncomfortable wooden chair in front of the pale, yellow-haired woman with the smear of coral lipstick on her mouth. He ignored her question and how her office had the unforgiving stench of bargain perfume and burnt popcorn as she opened a folder on her desk with delicate fingertips.

  “It seems like we have quite a file on you, Michael.” Professor Steele flipped through the stack of papers in the folder. When her comment failed to bring about a response, she sighed. “I’m going to be frank with you. This isn’t looking so good.”

  He stifled a yawn. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about your attendance, your grades, your entire college career, your future. The possibility of you ever graduating.”

  Michael inhaled impatiently, craving a cigarette. “What does that mean?”

  “That means that there’s a very good chance you won’t be attending Kenton anymore.”

  There was silence as the emphasis of Professor Steele’s words hung in the air. Michael stilled, then cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. “I’m flunking out?”

  “More or less.” She closed the file and folded her hands on top of it, smiling slightly, evidently pleased at having finally gotten his attention. “You were put on academic probation last semester, but your grades are still nothing to brag about. In fact, according to your record, they’re even lower than before.”

  “Just tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

  “I’m not sure there’s anything you can do at this point, unless you start acing all your tests and devote every second of your life to make-up work—on which the highest grade you can get is a seventy percent, at most.” Professor Steele reached inside her desk drawer and removed a beige leather purse, from which she retrieved a tube of lipstick. She positioned a small mirror on top of Michael’s file. “I just don’t understand. Did you think this would all be easy? Did you think you could just show up—sometimes—and get all the glory without doing the work?”

  Michael stifled an aggravated growl. That was pretty much exactly what he’d figured. Wasn’t college supposed to be fun?

  “We need to start thinking realistically.” She paused to uncap the lipstick and applied an unnecessary coat. “I think the problem is you don’t know where you want to go, thus you’re not going anywhere. It’s high time you start planning your future, so let’s have it. Where do you want to see yourself in ten years?”

  “I don’t know.” His knee bounced. “Look, I’m not like everybody else, okay? I don’t obsess about the future.”

  Professor Steele smacked her creamy, matte lips together. “Giving something a little thought every now and then is hardly obsessing.”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Plans only get screwed up anyway.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and clasp his hands together as his gaze fell to the floor. “No matter how much you want to make something happen, something else happens to mess it all up. Nothing ever turns out how you expect it or want it to, so why bother planning? Why bother caring?”

  “Was being in the position you’re in today what you hoped to achieve by not caring?”

  “All I know is that I don’t want to be here.”

  “Then I’ve got good news for you. Keep doing what you’re doing and your wish will come true faster than you know, Mr. Vartanian.” Professor Steele put the cover on her lipstick and dropped it into her purse while looking pointedly at her door.

  Michael pushed himself out of his chair and left her office without another word. He could hear the blood rushing through his head as his feet took on a life of their own, leading him outside and across the quiet campus toward Myle Hall, where his Speech Communication class was—if his memory served him correctly. The days when he’d been to class had been few, and the times he’d been there sober were even fewer. He paused in front of the two-story brick building and stared at its white double doors and its fat round columns, trying to recall it. The fact he even had to do so scared him more than he thought possible.

  He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before students trickled out of the nearby buildings. The campus soon crawled with activity, and the quiet that had surrounded him morphed into rowdy shouts of excitement. An unexpected sense of helplessness fell over Michael as he viewed his peers. He didn’t recognize any of them, and he didn’t feel like he was like any of them either.

  As if beckoned by fate’s cruel finger, Breeze materialized from the crowd, sauntering down the paved path with a gaggle of girls flocking around her like ladies-in-waiting. She didn’t seem to notice him, engrossed in the flurry of conversation surrounding her. She looked happy. She looked like a queen. She looked like Michael Vartanian was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Michael bit down on his lip so hard he thought he would sever it. He ignored the warnings of Professor Steele as he headed for the parking lot, where he got into his truck. The roaring engine drowned out any remainder of Breeze’s carefree laughter, still echoing in his ears as he drove away.

  * * * *

  “Val!” Daniel Travato curled his notebook into a sloppy megaphone and called her name again in the crowded cafeteria in Farley Student Union, which hummed with the dull roar of talking, chairs scraping across the floor and soda cans dropping in the vending machines. “Valerie!”

  Valerie turned, careful not to bump the other students in line with her tray. “What’s up?”

  Daniel stopped in front of her. “I was wondering what time I’m picking you ladies up tonight.” He still spoke into his makeshift megaphone.

  Valerie giggled and guided the notebook away from his mouth. “Excuse me?”

  “Shannon invited me to some party she said you two were going to.” He held his notebook in place on the top of his head with his hands, giving his upper arms a stretch. “I offered to be the chauffeur.” His brow furrowed. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet, but I will.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Meet me at my house around eight, okay?”

  Daniel’s worried expression dissolved into a relieved grin. “Sounds good. I’ll be there.” He walked backward for a few steps, tipped his notebook at her like it was a hat and wove his way through the crowd.

  Valerie paid for her meal and joined Shannon at a table near the window. “So you invited Daniel out with us tonight?”

  “I did.” Shannon popped a potato chip in her mouth. “I thought it’d be good for him.”

  “Or did you think it’d be good for me?” Valerie gave Shannon a suspicious look as she sat opposite her friend.

  Shannon looked angelically at the ceiling. “Think what you want.”

  Valerie stared at her square of pizza, slick with puddles of grease and coated in a thin layer of congealed mozzarella. “It should be fun. It’ll be good to get my mind off things.”

  Shannon grinned. “I absolutely agree.”

  * * * *

  Michael surveyed the party between heavy eyelids and gently bit the inside of his cheek to ease the dryness. The dim lights made
shadows of the warm, drunk partygoers crushed together in the basement of the house Rooney shared with five friends. Rooney handed him the water pipe and a lighter again and Michael gratefully accepted it, not willing to face the crowd without a haze in his head.

  “You know, I wouldn’t mind immortality so much.” Rooney addressed no one in particular within the circle of people forming around his and Michael’s identical lawn chairs. He strummed a few chords on the out-of-tune acoustic guitar sitting in his lap. “Some people might get bored, but not me. I’d just play guitar all day and get really good at it.”

  “Finally,” said one of Rooney’s housemates—a boy with Jesus Christ strung-out hair. His words came in puffs of smoke after he took a hit from the water pipe Michael had passed him.

  While the people around him laughed and joked, Michael’s mind wandered to his conversation with Professor Steele and Breeze’s apparent happiness. A flower of fear bloomed in the pit of his stomach, and he pleaded with his mind to think about something—anything—else. He buried his hands in his pockets to distract himself, and his fingers curled around an unfamiliar object. His heart leaped for a moment as he wondered if maybe Breeze had put something in his pocket as a surprise, but he realized it was just the army pamphlet Rooney had given him months ago. He had no idea why he didn’t just throw the brochure away. It served no use to him aside from reading material when he’d been bored in his truck while waiting for Breeze to come out of class, and those days were over.

  “Someone’s quiet.” Rooney gave Michael’s shoulder a light punch, returning Michael to the present. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Sorry.” Michael shook his head. “I just zoned out for a minute.”

  Rooney offered him the water pipe. “You want this or not?”

  “Yeah, pass it over.”

  Just before Michael’s fingers wrapped around the smooth glass pipe, he saw Valerie across the room, her dark hair catching the light from the bare bulb in the ceiling. His eyebrows lifted with surprise. He figured Rooney’s house would be the last place he’d ever see her. He was used to seeing her around campus, although he tried not to—he couldn’t bear her openly wounded stares. Her phone calls had ceased and she didn’t attempt to speak to him, but her eyes said plenty: Why don’t you care about me like I care about you?

  Michael could never give Valerie the answer—he didn’t have one. He wished he could explain to her the purpose of their relationship, but was horrorstruck when he thought of his own unkindness.

  Why did she have to make it so easy to be cruel?

  He slowly rose from his lawn chair. “Be back in a sec.”

  “All right, whoever wants Mike’s seat has to fill this up.” Rooney raised the water pipe.

  Michael wove through the horde until he stood behind Valerie. He stared at the back of her head for a moment, unsure of what he was doing or why he was doing it. Finally, he said, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Valerie stopped midsentence and turned away from the girl she was talking to, whom Michael recognized from some of the photographs in Valerie’s room. “Hi.” She looked so shocked, and so innocent amid this crowd. Surprisingly, she clutched a can of Budweiser. She was so wholesome he figured the only thing she ever drank was milk. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

  “Same.”

  An awkward silence fell between them. She quickly cleared her throat and gestured to the girl with her. “This is my best friend, Shannon.”

  “Hi.” Shannon’s jaw twitched, her expression unreadable.

  “Hey.” He turned back to Valerie. “It’s weird seeing you.”

  The blush on Valerie’s cheeks was visible even in the dim light. “Mary Anne Gordon invited us.”

  Michael racked his brain, trying to recall a Mary Anne Gordon, and realized it was the girl whom Rooney had been fooling around with for the past few weeks. “Oh.”

  “Does it bother you I’m here?” Her green eyes shone in the basement light.

  “No. Like I said, it’s just weird.”

  “I agree,” she said after a long pause, and he was sure she thought of the month of silence that had passed between them since he had given her the necklace for Valentine’s Day, which he noticed she still wore. The silver chain glinted at him, half hidden by her collared shirt, and reminded him of his guilt. It made him resent both her and himself.

  “Here you are, ladies.” A vaguely familiar voice interrupted the stilted conversation as a tall guy bearing three unopened beer cans materialized between Valerie and her friend. “The finest this joint can offer.”

  “Thanks.” Shannon accepted a can before her gaze darted back to Michael, as if gauging his reaction to the newcomer’s presence.

  The boy glanced at Michael and he blinked, clearly taken aback. “Vartanian. How goes it?”

  Michael narrowed his eyes as he recognized the guy as the one who’d been playing cards with Valerie at her house so many months ago, but he couldn’t remember his name. “Not bad.” He turned to Valerie again and jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Maybe I’ll see you around later.”

  She nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Great.” He turned, trying to ignore how crestfallen she looked, and disappeared quickly into the crowd.

  * * * *

  “What an asshole!” Shannon raged as soon as Michael departed. Her nails dug into Valerie’s forearm. “I can’t believe he just did that to you!”

  “I know.” Valerie frowned as she finished the rest of her Budweiser and finally took the can of beer Daniel offered.

  “What’d he do?” Daniel’s tone was light but concerned as his gaze bounced from Valerie to Shannon and back.

  Shannon bristled at the sound of his voice. “Sorry, Daniel, we need a moment of girl talk. Be right back.” She dragged Valerie to a corner of the crowded basement before saying, “I cannot believe the stones on him. He gave you that necklace then doesn’t talk to you until now, and only to say it’s weird to see you? This isn’t even his party. How dare he give the slightest insinuation you shouldn’t be here.” She shook her head, her ponytail swishing around her shoulders. “I don’t care how gorgeous he is. He’s a dick, and I hate you let him be one.”

  Valerie’s shoulders slumped. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Tell him off. Tell him you refuse to be treated this way.” Shannon’s grip tightened. “Thanks to Breeze’s announcements, I know for a fact he hasn’t been with her for about a month or so now, so he can’t use his whiny ‘But I have a girlfriend’ bullshit on you. That excuse was weak from the start.”

  “Well, so am I.”

  Shannon paused. “Maybe you two just aren’t meant to be.”

  Valerie yanked her arm out of her friend’s grasp. “Then why does he keep approaching me?”

  “Because, Val, he wants sex, and you give it to him.”

  “He can get sex from anyone. Any girl would sleep with him.”

  “Yeah, but probably not every girl would go to the lengths you do. I mean, you told me he got you off in front of your mom and dad. Who lets a guy get away with that? You let him do whatever he feels like doing to you. Or maybe he sees you as an innocent virgin, all ripe for corruption.” Shannon gave a halfhearted grin. “Well, you used to be an innocent virgin.”

  “If Michael was only into devirginizing girls, he would just leave me alone at this point, right? Besides, I can’t believe he would use me like this just to ‘corrupt’ me. That’s sick.”

  “Then tell him.” Shannon threw her hands up. “If you’re miserable, set the record straight, once and for all.” She turned Valerie around and gave her a shove in the direction Michael had headed. “I’ll occupy Daniel while you chat with Michael. Don’t come back until you get some answers.”

  * * * *

  Michael maneuvered his way through the throngs of people, his head swimming and his eyes burning from the smoke hanging thick in the air. His head throbbed in time to the Deep Purple song playing on the ster
eo in the corner. Rubbing his sore eyes, he bumped into a blonde. “Sorry.”

  The girl whirled around and his heart plummeted as she smiled at him. “Hey, stranger.” Breeze flipped her golden hair over her shoulder. A cream-colored, cable-knit newsboy cap rested on her head, looking like a halo in the light.

  He scowled. She’d no right to look so beautiful when he couldn’t have her. “Hey.”

  “How’ve you been?”

  “Never better.” He turned to leave, but Breeze linked her arm through his.

  “Then tell me all about it,” she said, and for a moment Michael thought she actually seemed sincere. “I want to hear about some of your recent adventures.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope. I want to know what I’m missing out on.”

  Michael coughed out a bitter laugh. “Let’s save the catching up for some other time, okay?”

  “But why?” She stepped closer to him. “I’m here, you’re here...”

  “And you’re obviously drunk.” He took a feeble step backward, wishing he wasn’t enjoying her attempt to corner him.

  “Of course.” She shrugged. “Beer is the conversational lube between exes.”

  Her fingers were wrapped around a can of Miller High Life, and he couldn’t help but crave her fingers wrapped around him. He forced aside a groan and shook his head, willing himself to stay in control. “I thought you wanted me out of your life.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You never listen to anything I say. Why is that?”

  Baffled, Michael watched as Breeze excused herself from her friends and let her tug him into a dark, quiet alcove under the wooden steps. Clumsy footsteps thundering up and down the stairs overhead mimicked the throb of his heart as she turned to face him with a deep breath.