"Last chance to change your mind, Merit."
"How long does it usually last?" I whisper.
Luck laughs in my ear. "You already hate it that much?"
I shake my head. "No, I just . . ." I stop talking. I'm making it even more awkward.
Just when I think I'm no longer going to be a virgin, my phone lights up. "Someone's calling you," Luck says. I glance to my left and fumble for my phone. I try to power it off, but the screen is still lit. Luck is just staring down at me. His face contorts and then he's not on top of me anymore. He falls onto his back.
"I can't do it."
"Seriously?" I ask. "We were two seconds away!"
He nods. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . when your phone lit up . . . you made this face that reminded me of Moby."
I cringe.
"He kind of looks like you and Honor. It's weirding me out."
I pull the covers up over my breasts. "That's gross."
He doesn't disagree. "Are you okay?"
I nod. "Yeah." My voice isn't very reassuring, though.
He turns on the lamp and then sits up. I look the other way as he removes his condom and pulls on his pants. "You aren't mad at me, are you?"
I assume it's safe to look in his direction now. He's holding his shirt, looking pathetically regretful as he stares down at me. "No. I'm sure I can find someone to do it eventually." I'm mostly kidding.
He gives me an apologetic, yet reassuring smile. "Whoever you have sex with, it'll be better than what this would have been. I promise."
I laugh. "Yeah, I'm not sure it can get much worse than what just happened."
Luck flips me off. "I'm normally very impressive and have excellent follow-through. This is a rare exception."
I like that he's still playful. We just experienced one of the most awkward things two people can possibly experience, and from the looks of it, nothing changed between us because of it.
He opens the door with impeccably terrible timing. Sagan is walking by, but he pauses as soon as Luck opens the door.
It's just a two-second glance, but I feel more in this visual exchange with Sagan than I did during the entire past fifteen minutes with Luck. Sagan's eyes are locked on mine. His eyes move to Luck. His eyes are back on mine. Luck quickly steps out of my bedroom and closes the door, but he's not fast enough to save me from the absolute most horrific part of this entire day.
I pull the covers over my head and try to wish away the last ten seconds. I didn't want anyone to find out about what just happened between me and Luck, but Sagan is the absolute last person I would have wanted to find out about it.
I can feel the tears of embarrassment begin to form as I roll over.
I'm drowning in regret.
"Coming down for air," I whisper.
It's been several hours since I almost lost my virginity. I'm still the same and I have a feeling I'd still feel the same if my hymen were no longer intact. I wouldn't feel sexier, I wouldn't feel more worldly, I wouldn't be miraculously confident. If anything, I'm a bit . . . disappointed. Why do people risk so much for sex?
So far, all it's caused me is mortification. I'm so embarrassed to face Sagan, I haven't even left my room since he walked past it. I can hope he didn't assume the worst, but Luck walked out of my room without a shirt. Sagan saw me in bed, the blanket covering me just enough to make it obvious I wasn't wearing clothes.
I'm not embarrassed that he might have caught me having sex with someone. It shouldn't matter to Sagan if I'm seeing anyone else because Sagan isn't my boyfriend. He's dating my sister.
I'm embarrassed because it was Luck. We share a relative. It's disturbing. And now Sagan probably thinks the worst of me.
Luck came to my room during dinner and asked if I wanted him to bring me something to eat. He thought I was too mortified to come out of my room because of him, but it has nothing to do with Luck. In all honesty, I don't even regret what almost happened. I only regret that Sagan knows about it.
As embarrassed as I am, though, I doubt my feelings even come close to what my father must be feeling. He knows I know that he's still sleeping with Mom. And I'm sure he's terrified I'm going to tell Victoria. Or anyone else in the family for that matter. He's so mortified, he didn't even come to my room to talk to me about it.
All I've heard from him today was in a stupid text. "I'm sorry you saw that. Please let me talk to you about it before you jump to any conclusions." In other words, he'd appreciate the opportunity to swear me to secrecy before anyone else finds out what's really going on around here.
So many secrets in this house. And yet, the one secret I should have told years ago is the one I've kept the quietest.
Speaking of quiet. I haven't heard anyone moving around in the house for a while, which means everyone is probably in bed now. Not only am I starving, but I would put money on the fact that no one has fed Wolfgang today. I go to the kitchen and open a frozen dinner. After I put it in the microwave, I grab a pitcher from beneath the sink to fill it with dog food.
I'm rinsing it out when my father finally gets the balls to confront me. I heard the door to their bedroom open right after I closed the microwave. I heard him walk into the kitchen when I bent down to grab the pitcher. I felt him hesitate at the counter as I was rinsing out the pitcher.
And now he's standing in the way of me and the back door.
"I have to feed Wolfgang." I say it in such a way that should indicate I don't want to do anything other than feed Wolfgang. Especially have a conversation with him about his infidelity.
"Merit," he says, looking at me pleadingly. "We need to talk about this."
I walk around him to the bag of dog food. "Do we?" I ask as I scoop some into the pitcher. I turn around and face him. "Do you really want to have a conversation with me about it, Dad? Are you finally going to explain why you started cheating on Mom when she needed you the most? Are you finally going to explain why you chose Victoria over the rest of this family? Are you finally going to explain why you were in the basement having sex with Mom today while everyone thought you were at work?"
He takes a quick step toward me and says, "Shh. Please." He looks panicked, like Victoria might overhear this conversation. It makes me laugh. If he doesn't like the thought of getting caught, why does he do things he doesn't want people to find out?
I nod. "Oh, I see. You don't want to discuss why you're a pathetic husband. You just want me to promise I won't tell anyone."
"Merit, that's not fair."
Fair? He's going to talk to me about fair? I've had very little respect for him these past few years, but today has completely diminished what little was left.
"Believe me, Dad. I won't tell anyone. The last thing this family needs is another reason to hate you."
The timer on the microwave goes off. When my dad looks in that direction, I use the break in eye contact to walk out the back door. Thankfully, he doesn't follow me. I walk across the yard to Wolfgang's doghouse. He's just lying there, looking up at me. He's not even excited to eat. Do dogs suffer from depression? I wonder if human Xanax would work on him. If so, I should feed him some of my mother's.
I sit down next to his doghouse and Wolfgang crawls forward a little and lays his head in my lap. He licks my hand and it's honestly the sweetest thing anyone's done for me all day. At least he appreciates me.
"You aren't so bad, you know?" I scratch between his ears and his tail begins to wag a little. Well, wag might be a bit of a stretch. It twitches, almost in a convulsive way, like it's been so long since he's been happy that he forgot how his tail works.
"Let me get you some water." I grab his empty water bowl and walk to the far side of the house and turn on the water faucet. I glance to the left, at Sagan's bedroom window. There's a light on, which means he's probably up drawing. I wonder what he's drawing. Probably a morbid picture of me losing my virginity.
The water bowl overfills and the water spills over onto my shoe. "Shit." I step back and pour some of the w
ater out of the bowl, then drop the hose.
"Merit?"
I spin around, but no one is behind me.
"Over here."
It's Sagan's voice. It's coming from his window. His curtains are pulled back and his arms are folded on the inside of the windowsill. The only thing separating us is the window screen and a few feet.
"What are you doing?"
I reach down and turn off the water. "Feeding Wolfgang." My hands fumble around the faucet, but Sagan's presence has me a nervous wreck now. I don't notice the metal wire holding on the faucet covering until I slide my wrist across it and cut myself. "Ouch," I say, jumping back. I turn my hand over and there's already blood bubbling up out of the cut across my wrist.
"You okay?" He leans closer to the window screen.
"Yeah, I just cut myself. I'm fine, though. It's superficial."
"I'll bring you a Band-Aid." His curtain falls shut and I hear him walking across his bedroom.
Crap. He's coming out here.
I close my eyes and inhale, hoping I can pretend I'm not still completely mortified. I hope he doesn't bring up what he saw today. Surely he won't, it was none of his business.
I wipe my wrist on my T-shirt and then walk the bowl of water to Wolfgang. I return to my spot on the ground, just as the back door opens. It's dark out, but there's a full moon tonight, which means I'll have to make eye contact with him like a normal person.
Wolfgang lifts his head and he starts to growl as Sagan comes closer. I pet him on top of his head. "It's okay, boy." The gesture reassures Wolfgang. He nestles his head in my lap again and sighs.
When Sagan reaches us, he squats down, handing me a Band-Aid. I take it from him and open it. At least he didn't try to apply the Band-Aid himself. He would have seen how bad I'm shaking.
"So this is the infamous Wolfgang, huh?" He reaches out to pet him and Wolfgang allows it. Never mind the fact that Wolfgang's head is in my lap and now Sagan's hand is touching something on my lap and what is oxygen?
"He's a beautiful dog." Sagan moves from a squat to a seat on the ground. He's so close, his knee is touching mine. The contact makes it more difficult to breathe so I do my best to keep it unnoticeable. Sagan's hand is still on Wolfgang's head. "Is he always this subdued?"
I lift a shoulder as I secure the Band-Aid to my wrist. "He didn't used to be. I think he's depressed."
"How old is he?"
I think back to the year the war began between my father and Pastor Brian. I was probably eight or nine. "He's almost ten years old, I think."
My answer makes Sagan sigh. "He may not have much more time in him."
"What do you mean? Dogs live a lot longer than ten years, don't they?"
"Some breeds do. But Labs live an average of about twelve years."
"He's not dying, though. He's just in mourning."
Sagan rubs a hand across Wolfgang's stomach. "Feel this," he says. He grabs one of my hands and slides it over the path his hand just took. "His stomach is swollen. Sometimes that's a sign that they're about to die. And with his lethargic temperament . . ."
Something gets caught in my throat. I make a sound, like a gasp and a cough mixed with disbelief. I quickly cover my mouth, but then the swelling in my throat causes tears in my eyes. Why am I sad? I've spent my whole life hating this dog. Why would I care if he's dying?
"I'll call a vet tomorrow," Sagan says. "It wouldn't hurt to get him checked out."
"Do you think he's in pain?" I ask, my voice just above a whisper. I feel a tear escape my eye and I discreetly wipe it away. Or at least my intention was to be discreet, but Sagan saw it because he's staring way too hard.
A smile tugs at his lips. "Look at that," he says quietly. "Merit has a heart."
I roll my eyes at his comment and use both hands to pet Wolfgang now. "You don't think I have a heart?"
"To be fair, you come off kind of . . . brash."
I wasn't expecting his honesty. It makes me laugh. "Is that your way of calling me a bitch?"
He shakes his head. "I'd never call you that."
Sure, he'd never call me a bitch. But it doesn't mean he's not thinking it. Sagan just doesn't say mean things out loud. Maybe that's a product of how he was raised. Or maybe he's some kind of saint. Or an angel brought to earth to test my morals.
Wolfgang rolls over and scoots closer to me. My eyes flick up to Sagan's but when I see he's looking at me, I immediately look back down at Wolfgang. I once again do whatever I can to find something about him to dislike.
"What are you allergic to?"
Sagan tilts his head. "Nothing," he says, looking confused. "Why? That's such a random question."
"Last night in the van you said you had an allergic reaction to something you ate. And that you met Honor in the hospital."
He nods a little, then cracks a smile. "Oh. That." He pauses and then says. "I was lying. For Honor."
Of course he was. That's what good boyfriends do for their girlfriends.
"Which one was a lie? That you had an allergic reaction or that you aren't allergic to anything?"
Sagan pulls at a piece of grass and twists it between his fingers. "I met your sister through a friend of mine. I was visiting him in the hospital." He drops the grass. "So was she."
I wait for him to elaborate, but once again he keeps his stories clipped and uninformative. But I take it he lied about why he was in the hospital out of guilt. He doesn't want anyone to know that he met Honor through his dying friend, and that, from the way it appears, they're seeing the same girl. How messed up is that?
I guess that explains the argument in Honor's bedroom the other night. And Honor wanting to keep her visit with Sagan's friend a secret from him.
I don't know why, but this satisfies me. Knowing she's seeing both of them and he's seeing her while still somewhat being flirty with me . . . it makes me feel like the better person out of the three of us, when before I felt like the worst one.
"What happened between you and Honor?" he asks. "Seems like there's a little animosity there."
I laugh. "A little?"
"Has it always been that way?"
I lose my smile and shake my head, looking down at Wolfgang. "No. We used to be really close." I think about all the times we refused to sleep unless we were in the same room. All the times we would switch clothes and try to trick our father. All the times we would talk about how lucky we were to be twins. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I look back up at him just in time to see him frown a bit, but the frown dissipates.
"Yeah. A little sister."
"How old is she?"
"Seven." His expression is stoic, which makes me wonder if he misses her and doesn't like talking about her.
"Do you get to see her very often?"
This must be where the point of contention comes in with his family because he just inhales and leans back on his hands. "I've never met her, actually."
Oh. There must be a story there, but I can sense the sadness in his voice. And then he leans over and starts petting Wolfgang like the subject is closed. It's apparent he doesn't want to dive deeper into conversations about his family. It disappoints me because I want him to feel like he can talk to me but he obviously doesn't feel that way. I wonder if Honor has these kinds of conversations with him.
The weight of her name bears down on me. I drag a hand over my mouth and hold it there as my arm rests on my knee. "Do you ever wish you had a different family? One who communicates?" I ask him.
"You have no idea," he says.
"I really wish I had that kind of relationship with Honor and Utah. We aren't close at all. And sadly, once we all go off to college, I doubt we'll speak much. The only reason we even interact is because we live together."
"It's not too late to change that, you know."
I try to force a smile, but I don't have enough strength in my body to pretend he's right. My family will never be any different. "I don't know, Sagan. There's a lot of baggage in our family. I th
ink sometimes you luck out and get a family you connect with. But sometimes . . ." I try to fight back an embarrassing and unexpected tear. "Sometimes you get stuck with family members that do nothing but make mistakes they never have to apologize or pay for."
When I'm sure I've fought the tear back successfully, I look at Sagan. He's staring back at me sympathetically. There's a quiet reassurance about him. Maybe it's the way he seems to listen without judging. He nods a little, like he understands what I'm trying to say. But then he shrugs. "Not every mistake deserves a consequence. Sometimes the only thing it deserves is forgiveness."
I immediately have to look away because that comment hits me like a punch in the gut. I wish I could apply that thinking to my family but I'm not sure I'm capable of that much forgiveness.
Sagan pulls his right leg up and rests his chin on his knee, wrapping his arms around his leg. He stares out over the backyard, focused on nothing. "Merit?"
I squeeze my eyes shut. I don't even want to look at him because I can tell in his voice that he's about to ask me something I don't want to answer. "What?" I whisper. It feels like my heart is swollen when I finally look at him. Or maybe bloated is a better term for this.
"What was going on today? In your room?"
I immediately break eye contact with him. Please don't let him be referring to what he saw from the hallway.
"Were you and Luck . . ."
That's exactly what he's referring to.
"Did you have sex with him?"
I'm shocked that he came straight out and asked it. I open my mouth and then clamp it shut because I'm too embarrassed to respond. And even a little bit angry. Why is it his business? He's having sex with his dying friend's girlfriend. It shouldn't be any of his concern who I'm having sex with.
I roll my eyes and push myself off the ground. "That's such an inappropriate question. Especially coming from you."
He looks a little ashamed that he asked it, but he doesn't apologize. He just silently watches me as I walk back toward the house. I go straight to my bedroom and close the door. It's not until I lock it that I remember my food in the microwave. "Great," I mutter. I'm not about to walk back out of this room. I hate being hungry. It makes me angry, and when I'm already upset, it makes me really angry. I'm angry and starving and now that I've picked up my phone, I have to read through all these texts from Honor. I fall onto the bed and scroll to the top.
Without Merit Page 12
