“So in other words, it was more than one.” My mother’s mouth pressed into a thin line, her red lipstick disappearing into her frown.
My heart sank. So that was that. That was her response and it wasn’t even close to what I wanted, no, needed, to hear.
My father cleared his throat. “You have two choices, Jessica. You can stay here for the rest of the summer under our roof with our rules and go back to school for the coursework we agreed on together, you and I”—he pointed back and forth between us—“or you can stay in Cincinnati now and lose our financial support. I cannot condone your lifestyle choices with my wallet.”
My mother was crying now, silent, pretty tears that wouldn’t wreck her makeup.
“I understand,” I said, feeling very calm all of a sudden. Hadn’t I been expecting this for years? I couldn’t pretend forever that I was going to walk the path they had chosen for me and in a sense it was a relief to know I wouldn’t have to anymore. “I don’t want to waste your money so I think it’s best if I withdraw from school for a while. Can I get my stuff from my room?”
“So you’re leaving?” my father asked.
I nodded.
“If you leave this house I don’t want to speak to you ever again,” Mom said.
That almost got me. My fingers jerked, and I took a second to make sure my voice was controlled. “I hope that isn’t really true, Mom. I love you and I still want to be a part of this family.”
“Don’t overreact, Donna,” Dad said.
It was too late for that. My mother wiped her tears and told me in a shaky voice, “I want you to know that you’ve broken my heart.”
Way to drive the knife just a little deeper, Mom. I didn’t say anything, because what could I say? Nothing was going to matter or make her feel any better.
But Riley’s hand gripped me more firmly and his body shifted closer to me like he could protect me from those words.
She got up and left the room when I didn’t burst into tears and declare myself a born-again virgin.
Dad wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look like he hated me either. “Your mother is just disappointed,” he said. “Give her time. And yes, you can get your stuff. You can always come home—I want you to know that. In the meantime, just remember that if you stumble the Lord will always pick you up. But you have to allow Him near you to do that.”
I nodded, throat tight. Without meaning to, my fingers went to my cross, and I fingered it, seeking comfort. My father noticed and it seemed to give him reassurance.
“I’ll be praying for you, Jessica.” He stood up and held his arms open for me.
I sank into his hug, the crispness of his suit jacket sliding over my skin as I buried my face in his shoulder. He smelled like Dad, like cologne and whiskey. He had spiked his iced tea. I wondered if my mom knew how often he did that. “Thanks, Daddy.”
Then he stepped back, and he actually held his hand out to Riley to shake it. Riley did, giving my father a nod of acknowledgment. I had to admit, my father was impressing me with his calm control. I guess that was part of what made him such an amazing minister.
“Take care of her,” Dad said. “It takes a man to sit here and answer my questions with honesty and respect, and I appreciate that. I also appreciate you not interfering. I don’t approve of what Jessica is doing, but I won’t hold that against you. Maybe you can be a positive influence on her.”
Seriously? How effing misogynistic was that? All the positive feelings toward my dad that I had been having evaporated. How nice that Riley wasn’t tainted by association with me.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. Turning on my heel, I started toward the door, reaching up to yank my hair down out of the constricting bun.
Riley scrambled to follow me. “Jessica, wait.”
“I’m done with this conversation,” I told him, ripping my sweater off and letting it fall to the floor in the hallway. What was the point of dressing the part to please? “Did you hear him? I can’t do anything to make them happy.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
Running up the stairs, I stomped down the hall, trying not to scream, or throw something, or in any way show my parents that I was the out-of-control loser they thought I was. Paxton was coming out of his room and he stopped short, giving me a sneer.
“Fuck you,” I told him.
Shoving the door open to my room, I eyed it with displeasure. It was a princess palace and it didn’t reflect me at all. It was expensive furniture and mirrored surfaces, in pinks and ivories. Whatever clutter I had left behind over Christmas break had been removed. It was like a perfect guest room for a perfect person who didn’t exist.
My boxes from school were neatly stacked in the corner and I went over and tried to lift two at once, pure adrenaline fueling me.
“Are we taking all of these?” Riley asked. His voice was carefully neutral.
“Yes. These six plus the vacuum.”
It took two trips, but we got everything shoved into the back of the car. On the second trip, Riley bent down to pick up my sweater.
“Just leave it,” I told him brusquely. “I don’t want it.”
He looked like he going to say something, then thought better of it. He carefully set the sweater down on the console table my mother used to sort mail and display fresh flowers.
Then I walked out the front door with no idea if and when I would be there again. Eighteen years of my life lived there, and all it took was an hour and six boxes to walk away from it.
No one came to stop me. No one came to say good-bye.
I turned to look back, to take in the foundation of my childhood, and I felt sadness, regret, longing.
But I also felt hope. That in leaving, I could find my place.
Chapter Seventeen
“Do you want to talk about it?” Riley asked after twenty minutes of silence.
I was stewing, staring out the window as we drove down the highway. “Not really.”
“Okay.” He was quiet for a minute, then he said, “I don’t want you to worry about money or anything. We’ll be fine. I don’t need to sell a kidney yet.”
I hadn’t even thought far enough ahead to realize that without my parent’s financial support, I was going to have to live off my waitress tips. Yikes. I thought I would be okay, but what did I really know? I’d always had a backup bank in my father. “I’m not your problem, Riley. I’ll just pick up more hours at work to help pay for stuff.”
“You’re not my problem, you’re my girlfriend. We’re in it together, Jess.”
I nodded, throat tight.
“I have to tell you, I’m not even sure I totally get what it is you did to deserve being kicked out. It’s not like you filmed a porno.”
Now there was an image. “There’s still time,” I said, because I was exhausted. I just wanted to snuggle on the couch with Riley and watch stupid YouTube videos, and I didn’t really want to talk about it anymore.
He got the hint. “I do have porn star gonads, I must say.”
I laughed. “Gross. I don’t even want to know what constitutes porn star, you know.” The word gonads made me squeamish.
“I don’t either, to tell you the truth,” he admitted. “But let me assure you, my nuts are class A.”
“I’m reassured, thanks. Of course, I do find it ironic that my father is worried about my salvation but he thinks you’re just awesome.” I didn’t blame Riley for that, but I did find it frustrating as hell.
“He didn’t say that. And he’s never heard me swear or seen me kick a wall. I’m sure if he knew the full story he’d be praying for me, too.”
I sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, I think it does matter. Plus I owe you an apology. I thought you were exaggerating about your parents, but you weren’t.”
“Thanks.” There was more I wanted to say, but I wasn’t sure how to articulate my feelings. “They’re not bad parents,” I said, because they weren’t. They wanted what was best for me, I
knew that. They just thought their way was what was best for me.
“No, of course not,” he agreed. “Everyone makes mistakes and none of us know what the fuck we’re doing. We just take it one day at a time. Hopefully Easton will remember that when he’s thirty and in therapy.”
“Easton is probably going to grow up to be the most normal of all of us.”
Riley laughed. “We can only hope.”
When we got back and went into the house, Tyler was playing video games with Easton. “How did it go? I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
Riley just shook his head, carrying one of my boxes. He started back towards the bedroom.
“I’m your new permanent roomie,” I told Tyler. “I’ll try not to hog the bathroom.”
“Shit, it didn’t go so good, huh?”
“Nope.”
“You’re moving in?” Easton asked, glancing up from his controller.
“Yes.”
He made a face of disgust.
Fabulous.
“I wish it was Rory instead,” he said.
Now that hurt. I blinked hard, feeling tears fill my eyes. So I didn’t really belong or fit in here either. Rory was the preferred girlfriend.
“Hey! That was really rude,” Tyler told him, shoving Easton’s knee. “Say you’re sorry.”
He shrugged like he didn’t know why it mattered. “Sorry.”
Yeah, that was believable. I set my box down and fast-walked out the front door to the car for another box. Riley came into the living room as I was leaving.
“What did you guys say to her?” he asked them in an accusing tone.
I didn’t wait for the answer. I just strode down the driveway, just in time to see a guy stealing my vacuum out of Riley’s open car.
“Hey! Drop the fucking vacuum or I will hurt you,” I screamed. It was a bit melodramatic for a twenty-dollar Dirt Devil, but I was not in the mood. Besides, I was broke now.
Apparently I looked scary enough that he eyed me and ditched it in the grass. He was about sixteen and skinny, dark circles under his eyes. I took a step toward him and he ran. I chased him, screaming at the top of my lungs the whole time.
Riley and Tyler came tearing out of the house. “What the fuck?” Riley shouted. “Jessica, stop chasing him!”
Considering we were actually just running in circles around the car, it did seem pointless. I came to a stop, breathing hard. “He tried to steal my vacuum.”
I saw Riley and Tyler exchange a look, both clearly trying not to laugh.
“David, go home before I beat your ass,” Tyler told the guy.
“He lives next door,” Riley explained.
“Your bitch is crazy,” David said, shaking his head.
“That’s right,” I told him. “Batshit crazy. So stay out of our yard.”
Feeling like I might cry, and not wanting to lose it in front of an audience, I leaned in the car and grabbed another box, ignoring everyone as I carried it into the house with as much dignity as I could manage on a day like I was having.
“That was cool,” Jayden told me when I shifted past him in the doorway. “You’re a baller.”
Awesome. “Thanks.”
“I guess I’m not the only one with a temper,” I heard Riley say. “The only thing that would have been better would have been if she had tackled him. I would have paid money to see that.”
“You don’t have any money!” I yelled over my shoulder.
Riley laughed.
* * *
I stayed up later than I should have, but I was edgy, anxious. Riley was already asleep when I came to bed, climbing up the waterbed from the bottom so I wouldn’t disturb him. I had been staring at the TV for the last two hours and texting with Rory, though I didn’t tell her about my parents. I didn’t want to talk about it. I’d never been one who dealt with stuff by discussing it endlessly.
Riley stirred. “You okay?” he murmured.
“Yeah.” I was pretty sure I was okay, even though I felt agitated. That was normal, I would guess, when your whole world has changed. I had thought about not going to school, about seeing all my friends studying and going to class with their backpacks and me not being a part of that. About working at the restaurant an extra two or three shifts to pay the bills. About the fact that I didn’t even know what “the bills” constituted.
But mostly I had thought about me, my choices, and what I would do differently. Not from a place of regret or guilt, but an analytical viewpoint. But it was like a squirrel with a nut—I kept turning it all around and around and I couldn’t figure out how to crack the code on how to please everyone. If I made myself over to please my parents, I was miserable. If I apologized for being sexually active, then I insulted the choice of women to be in control of their bodies and I insulted myself. Maybe my dad was right—maybe I was trying to be a Christian on my own terms, but wasn’t that what being twenty years old was about? Figuring out what I believed, what my opinions were?
I couldn’t please everyone, there was no way to do that. But I could please myself.
That was my conclusion, and I knew what pleased me. Having the freedom to make my own mistakes, to learn, to grow, to become a better person. Being here, in this house, with this guy, pleased me. My friendships pleased me. My hoodie made me happy. It was all the simplest of things that mattered, and the future didn’t have to be decided tonight.
“Go back to sleep,” I said, slipping under the sheet and peeling off my T-shirt.
He rolled over and kissed my bare shoulder. “Mm. Sorry today was so rough.”
“Thanks. Thanks for being there.”
The air-conditioning unit hummed and I kept one leg outside of the sheet.
“So what is your number?” he murmured.
“What?” I frowned in the dark, not sure what he was talking about.
“You know, partners. What is your number?”
I went completely still for a split second. Then I exploded. “Are you freaking kidding me? How can you ask me that?”
I couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark room so I sat up and leaned over to the dresser and turned on the lamp.
“Ow, fuck,” he said, covering his eyes.
“Get over it. Answer the question—how could you ask me that, after what I went through today?”
“I’m just curious. You can ask me.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t want to ask you. I don’t give a shit. It has nothing to do with me. Whatever you did before me is your business, not mine.”
Going up on his elbow, he said, “Come on. You’re not even like a little bit curious?”
“Of course I’m curious. But again, it’s none of my business.” Why was that so hard to grasp? I didn’t want to know. It would be like a slippery slope into comparisons and jealousies. I had no desire to do that to myself. I put my back against the wall, wanting to be sitting up. The anxiety crawled up my neck like a spider.
“I don’t mind telling you my number.”
“Well, great, but I don’t want to hear it! And I’m not telling you regardless. The truth is, you know it’s more than one. You know it’s more than two. And anything more than that for a girl is getting into questionable territory according to the world we live in. What if it was ten? Twenty? Forty? What would you say?”
“Forty is a lot of guys to be fucking, that’s what I would say.” He looked appalled.
“See, that’s my point. Everyone has this number that they decide is too much, and what if I say a number and it’s past your magical line in the sand? Then what? I have to watch the respect drain away from your face?”
“It’s not forty, is it?” He looked like he actually might be sick. His face was white and he was swallowing hard.
“No. It’s not.” Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what it was. I didn’t stop and finger count. Each one had been taken for what they were and who they were, not a sum total of sexual parts. If I had to quick guess, I would say six or seven. “But it
’s not two. I can’t re-virginize myself, Riley. I don’t even want to.”
“Is it less than ten?” he asked.
That was it. I got out of bed and pulled my T-shirt back on.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving.” I was already tapping a text to Robin asking her to pick me up.
“You can’t leave. Where the hell are you going to go?” He jumped out of bed and tried to head me off.
I darted around him and grabbed my purse off the dresser. When he touched my elbow, I shook him off, his hot grip feeling violating. “Leave me alone.”
“Jess. Come on. Stay. Please.”
In the living room, I whirled around to face him. “You aren’t any better than my parents! You are judging me the same way they are, and that really freaking hurts!”
“I just get jealous, I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” He put his hands onto the top of his head, staring at a spot on the wall behind me.
I wasn’t going to be swayed by how amazing he looked in his boxer briefs, that damn demon tattoo moving as he moved his arms, the skull screaming down his side.
Anger and hurt coursed through me and I was breathing hard, my chest heaving. So I did the one thing I knew would hurt him as much as he had just hurt me. I held out my thumb and said, “Bill.” Then the index finger. “Tyler.” Another. “Adam.” I flipped backward through my college years and held up another finger. “Carter.” My pinky went out. “Dude whose name I don’t remember because I got super drunk at my first party at college.” Second hand thumb. “John.” Last one. “Matthew. He was my first at church camp. Yes, church camp. We were counselors. There, feel better now?”
“Not really,” he said, his jaw working and his nostrils flaring.
“I didn’t think so.” I was so angry I was fuming. “But now you know.”
He clearly felt the same way because without warning he picked up the lamp and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered in an explosion of ceramic and glass.
I shrieked. “Riley!”
Tyler came rushing out of his bedroom. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Ask your brother,” I snapped.
Sweet tb-2 Page 21
