It Happens All the Time

by Amy Hatvany

  “You okay?” I’d asked him at my parents’ house, as he opened the passenger side door of his truck.

  “Yeah,” he said, not looking directly at me.

  “I don’t believe you.” I poked him in the ribs, and he jumped, giving me a startled look, which almost immediately transformed into a smile.

  “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” he said.

  “Nope,” I said. “Spill.”

  He sighed. “My dad showed up at my apartment a few hours ago. We had a fight.”

  “What about?” Tyler’s father had more of an emotional hold over him than my best friend would like to admit. He talked a good game about not caring what his dad said or thought, but his behavior whenever Jason did something to hurt Tyler told an entirely different story. There were injuries between them that if prodded, still bled—their relationship was basically a minefield composed of deeply buried, potentially explosive pain.

  “Just his usual bullshit.” Tyler held out his hand and helped me climb into the truck.

  “Daniel and I sort of had a fight, too,” I said, as I plopped into the passenger seat. “He thinks I’ve been spending too much time with you.”

  Tyler had been about to close my door, but then hesitated. “Do you think you’ve been spending too much time with me?”

  “No,” I said. “I do not.”

  I’d left the explanation at that, and now, as Tyler found a place to park amid the row of other vehicles on the grass, his body was more relaxed and his energy seemed to have shifted into a better place. “Ready?” he asked, and I nodded. He jumped out of the truck and came around to get the door for me, offering his arm in support as I climbed down and stood next to him. The air smelled of roasting meat and gunpowder—fireworks were illegal within Bellingham city limits, but out in the county, with so much more open space, the police were less likely to bother trying to regulate their use, a fact that the party’s host seemed to be taking clear advantage of.

  Tyler locked the truck and we walked toward the house together, through the front door and then directly into the backyard, where it seemed everyone else was already gathered. Loud music blasted through outside speakers, and several small groups of men and women sat around the patio, talking and laughing, drinks in hand.

  “There they are,” Tyler said, nodding his head toward a dark-haired, muscular man and a petite woman in the corner of the patio. Tyler took my hand and led me to join them. Both stood up from their seats when they saw us coming. Gia’s long black hair was pulled up into a slicked-back ponytail, exposing her narrow neck and the large silver hoops in her ears. She was a full foot shorter than her husband, but her stance was the shoulders-back, steel-rod-spine variety, giving off the impression that you wouldn’t want to mess with her.

  “Ty, my man!” Mason said, reaching over to give Tyler a shoulders-only hug. “You’re late!”

  “Sorry,” Tyler said when he pulled back. “My fault.”

  “You feeling better?” Mason asked.

  “I’m good,” Tyler said, but the muscles along his jawline tightened, making me wonder if something else was going on with him, other than the argument with his dad.

  “Were you sick?” I asked, looking back and forth between the two men.

  “No,” Tyler said. “Just kind of a rough night at work. The tanker accident.” He stared at Mason with unblinking eyes, and his partner gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Oh!” I said. “I read about that on Facebook this morning. You guys were there?”

  “Yeah,” Mason said, grimly. “It was pretty awful.”

  “Okay, that’s enough!” Gia said, stepping in front of her husband. “No more shoptalk tonight!” She looked at Tyler, pointing a perfectly manicured red fingernail in his direction. “And you. Are you going to introduce us to your lady friend or not?”

  “I’m Amber,” I said, smiling as I leaned forward and gave Gia a quick hug. “It’s so great to finally meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “It’s great to meet you, too,” she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, and then pulled back.

  “Hey, Amber,” Mason said, giving me a hug as well.

  “According to Mason, Tyler hasn’t shut up about you,” Gia said. “I figured I’d better let him know if you’re a keeper.”

  I widened my eyes, feeling a little dismayed by Gia’s bold pronouncement, wondering what kind of relationship, exactly, Tyler had told them he and I had.

  Tyler stepped in to rescue me. “She’s joking,” he said, giving Gia a stern look. “Right, Gia?”

  “Of course, mijo,” she said. She turned to her husband. “Baby, why don’t you get us something to drink?”

  “Anyone up for shots?” I suggested, and Mason did a double take as he looked at me, raising a single eyebrow.

  “I like you already,” he said with a grin. “Tequila?”

  “Why not?” I said, glancing at Tyler, who nodded.

  “All right, then,” Mason said, then headed over to the table that was covered in various bottles of booze and mixers. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, then returned with a full bottle of Patrón in hand. “We’re among friends, right?” he asked, before popping out the cork and putting the bottle to his lips, taking only a tiny sip of the clear liquid inside. “That’s it for me,” he said, handing the bottle to his wife. “Go for it, babe. I’m driving.”

  “Here’s to a night of freedom!” she said, lifting the bottle into the air before taking a bigger swig than her husband had. “And pumping and dumping!”

  “Um, what?” Tyler said, screwing up his face.

  Gia laughed, pointing at her chest with the bottle. “I’m breast-feeding,” she said. “I can drink, but I’ll have to pump and dump the milk so I don’t pass my debauchery on to the baby.” She handed the Patrón to me, and after I took a long shot, feeling the warm burn of alcohol slide down my esophagus into my belly, so did Tyler.

  “Happy birthday, ’Murica!” Gia yelled when Tyler handed her the bottle again, causing several people to turn and to gawk at us. “What’re you lookin’ at?” she said. “Don’t you love your country? Aren’t you patriots?”

  I laughed, as did the crowd around us, and then startled when a loud firework shot off, sending out a proliferation of brilliant white sparkles against the rapidly darkening sky. I took another pull from the bottle, a bigger one this time, shaking my head as the alcohol pulsed its way through my blood, making my joints feel liquid and loose. No wonder people liked to drink—all of the tension I’d felt after my phone call with Daniel had vanished, like it had never been there at all.

  “I need the bathroom,” Gia said, then looked at me. “You?”

  “Sure,” I said. Even though I didn’t have to go, I suspected she just wanted to get me alone so we could talk without the guys there. Gia grabbed me by the hand and led me toward the house, leaving Tyler and Mason on the patio. We stumbled our way through the kitchen and down the hall to a small powder room, where she pulled me in with her, closing the door behind us.

  I leaned against the wall, averting my eyes while Gia lifted her black skirt and dropped onto the toilet. I was a lightweight—the two shots I’d taken were already making me dizzy. I also hadn’t eaten since lunch, and since I knew booze was high in calories, I decided then and there to not eat anything at the party.

  After Gia finished and stood up at the sink to wash her hands, I looked over her petite physique and spoke again, my tongue already feeling thick inside my mouth. “You’d never guess you just had a baby. You look amazing.”

  Gia laughed as she dried her hands on a green towel. “Thanks. Breast feeding definitely helps, but even after eight months, my stomach still looks like a pile of cottage cheese when I’m naked. It’s totally worth it, though. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done.” She paused, turning around to rest her butt against the counter. “Do you want kids?”

  “Maybe someday,” I said, thinking about the conversation D
aniel and I had had after our trip to see his parents and extended family over spring break. On the flight home, we’d talked about children, and he’d confessed that he wanted to have at least three, something I wasn’t sure I wanted, too. I hadn’t spent much time around babies, and when I had, I’d felt more awkward than maternal. I had a hard enough time keeping a handle on my own issues; I didn’t think I was properly equipped to guide them through theirs, too. “I’ll have them as long as you’re the one to stay home,” I’d said, only partially joking. Daniel had surprised me by nodding. “You got it,” he’d said, and while I wasn’t sure if he had really meant it, the conversation had ended and we hadn’t discussed the subject since.

  “You know our boy Tyler’s in love with you,” Gia said and, once again, I was taken aback by her blunt approach.

  “Well, he was . . .” I sputtered, dropping my gaze to the ring on my left finger, spinning it around and around again using my thumb. I still hadn’t gotten used to wearing it. “But that was back in high school. We’re just good friends now.” Even as I spoke, I thought about the shiver that had crossed my skin at the gym the other day, when Tyler had gently yanked my ponytail. I thought about the pull of attraction I’d felt over the last couple of weeks whenever we spent time together, which only seemed to fuel the hesitance I felt about my sudden engagement to Daniel. If I really loved him, if he really was the person I should marry, would I be having these feelings about Tyler?

  “Uh-huh,” Gia said, nodding, but not looking like she believed me. “You two need to get your stories straight.”

  “I don’t know about Tyler,” I said, waving a hand in the general direction of the backyard, “but what I need is another drink. Many ’nother drinks!” I gave her what felt like a sloppy grin, and she laughed.

  “Let’s do it!” she said, and we headed back outside, where the night sky had darkened even more, and the speakers were blasting “Sweet Home Alabama.” Everyone had clumped together on the large patio, where they were dancing, arms in the air, bodies moving to the music, many sipping from red Solo cups. I searched the crowd for Tyler’s familiar blond head, and then felt him sidle up next to me.

  “Hey,” he said, leaning down in order to whisper in my ear. I felt his lips against my skin, smelled his sweet cologne and the booze on his breath, and I wondered how much more he had had to drink while I was inside. And maybe it was my own growing intoxication, or the party atmosphere itself, but as I turned to face him, I slowly turned my head so that my lips trailed against his cheek in what could be interpreted as a light and teasing, drawn-out kiss, taking pleasure from the fact that my touch made him quiver.

  “Hey, yourself,” I said, taking the bottle he held from him and knocking back another long pull of tequila, swallowing twice, then a third time, keeping my eyes on his the whole time. “Wanna dance?” I asked in a raspy voice, the muscles in my throat both fiery and numb from the rapid influx of alcohol.

  He nodded, his lips pressed together, his normally light green eyes dark with desire. It was so different from how Daniel looked at me, which was always so adoring, so sweet and kind and accepting. But Tyler’s eyes hooked into my soul. He saw right through me. He knew every detail of my life, the good along with the bad. I could always talk with him because I didn’t have to explain myself, to waste time trying to make sense of why I was the way I was. He already knew my story. He already knew me.

  I tucked the bottle up against my chest and led Tyler into the middle of the throng of people moving to the music. The song changed to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” and Tyler snatched the bottle from me and took another drink, then held it back to me, challenging me to do the same.

  “You’re on,” I said, putting the bottle to my mouth one last time, swallowing as much of the sharp liquid as I could without gagging. As we danced, my body began to feel like molten steel, viscous and hot, and my mind went blank. I was only the music, the beats of the bass line, the movements of my limbs. Someone took the bottle from my hand, but I barely noticed. Tyler pressed himself up close against me, his hips grinding against mine. I could feel his arousal, and my own rose to meet it. We locked gazes, his long leg tucked between mine, his pelvis circling, and his hand on my lower back. It was intimate enough to feel as though we were the only two people at the party. My edges seemed to melt away, and a thousand words were spoken in the looks we gave each other.

  The song stopped, and in the brief moment before another started, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his, opening my mouth to use my tongue. He answered by running his hands up and down my back, pressing his hips even harder against me. I didn’t care that we were surrounded by so many other people. I didn’t care that there was a ring on my finger or that I was cheating on my fiancé. All I knew was to try to hold on to this sensation of falling, to feel instead of think, to let the warm, loose sensation in my body take me over.

  When we finally stopped kissing, we were breathing hard, but neither of us said a word. Tyler grabbed my hand and pulled me through the small crowd back into the house. “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Somewhere private,” he said. The two words slurred together in a muddy mix, and he spoke again, more deliberately. “I want to be alone with you.” He led me down the hallway, past the bathroom where Gia and I had talked, then found the stairs. We stumbled our way up to the top of them, holding on to each other for support, stopping every few steps to kiss again. Tyler opened the first door we came across, and then surprised me by scooping me up in his arms, the same way his father had done to him, holding him over the pool the day we met.

  I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him as he kicked the door shut behind us, then carried me over to the bed, dropping me onto it. My head swam and I had to shut my eyes to keep the room from spinning. Tyler lay down next to me and began to run his large hands over my body, pushing up the hem of my skirt, using his fingers to drift along the skin of my inner thigh. The heat between my legs twitched in response.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “It’s always been you, Amber. No one else but you.”

  I kept my eyes closed, feeling his body pressed against mine, the stiffness of his erection straining inside his jeans. And then, out of nowhere, as suddenly as on the night we’d gone to prom, a bolt of revulsion pulsed through me. This was Tyler, my best friend. And I was engaged. This was wrong. So, so wrong. I couldn’t do this to Daniel. I couldn’t cheat on him. I needed it to stop.

  “Don’t,” I said, finally opening my eyes. He answered by rolling over on top of me. “Tyler, wait!” I felt a spark of panic ignite inside my chest. I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to push him off of me, but my arms were weakened by how much I’d had to drink. He kissed me again, forcefully this time, slipping his tongue inside my mouth and rolling it around like a fat slug, the weight of him crushing me, making me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

  “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said, his own words coming out in a drunk jumble.

  “Stop, Tyler! Please!” I struggled against him, but couldn’t get him off of me. With one hand, he reached down and unbuttoned his jeans.

  “I don’t want to do this!” I said, turning my head to one side as tears began to roll down my cheeks. I wanted to scream, but my mind and voice couldn’t seem to make the proper connection. My stomach churned, and alcohol-soaked acid rose up and burned the back of my throat. I gagged as I swallowed it back down.

  Intent on pulling his jeans off, Tyler didn’t seem to hear me. The heft of his well-muscled frame was enough to keep me held down while he pushed my skirt higher and yanked my panties down to my knees. “I love you so much,” he murmured, running his hands roughly up the curves of my hips to my waist, and then to my breasts, where with one hand he gripped me and tried to hold me still. “You feel so good.”

  I froze then, biting my bottom lip as I realized that fighting was useless. I couldn’t move; my head felt like it was stuffed fu
ll of cotton. He outweighed me by more than a hundred pounds. His eyes were closed, and as he shifted his body against mine, I could feel the wiry hairs on his legs rubbing like sharp steel wool against my skin. He tilted and shifted his pelvis, trying to slip inside me without the aid of his hands. When he finally managed it, it was one fast, violent jab, with what felt like a hot, hard sword shoved into the core of me, slicing and scorching my tender flesh. He plunged into me again and again while I wept, my fingernails pressed deeply enough into my palms that they began to bleed. I tried to concentrate on that pain instead of the one between my legs. I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening at all. I lay motionless, my eyes squeezed shut, waiting for it to be over. For him to be done. He grunted and moaned as he stabbed himself inside me, not sounding like himself. This was some other man, some animal, not the boy I’d known and loved. He was a stranger violating my body, a monster taking what he wanted and not caring about the carnage left in his wake.

  This was me, having led him on to the point where he thought that it was okay to keep going, even after I told him to stop.

  This was me, opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling, my soul floating up above my body, trying to deny that I was being raped by my best friend.

  Tyler

  I know where Amber is taking me as soon as she instructs me to take the Highway 2 exit off of I-5 south in Everett. The highway runs through the smaller towns of Monroe, Sultan, and Gold Bar, past the famous Zeke’s Drive-in, where back when we were in high school, our families would sometimes stop for burgers and thick, homemade ice-cream shakes on the way to the Bryants’ cabin. Before her stay in the hospital, when she was still restricting what she ate, Amber refused to touch the meal her parents would order for her, but after her release, she would at least pick apart the burger she’d ordered, removing the bun, eating the lettuce and tomato, along with most of the cheese-covered, charbroiled meat itself. The first time she reached over, grabbed my chocolate and peanut butter shake from me, and took a long pull on the straw, I remember thinking that therapy was finally working for her. That she might actually end up staying well.