by ANDREA SMITH
I open the bag, pulling out Carly Simon’s ‘No Secrets’ 8-track tape. I slide it out of the sleeve and see where Erik has written, “Happy 17th Birthday, Love, Erik.”
“Thanks,” I say, puzzled, “But, how’d you know I’d have an 8-track player for this?”
I watch as he shuffles a bit. “I...uh, I had one of those in lay-away for you. I returned it.”
He turns to walk away. I can’t let him go yet.
“Erik?” I call out. He stops and turns around.
I’m in his arms in seconds. “Thank you,” I murmur. “I know you really don’t like her music and all...”
I pull away, embarrassed for leaping into his arms like that, uninvited.
“Ah, it’s not that. I just liked giving you shit about it. You drove me nuts always playing that 45 over and over again. I could hear it clear across the road from your room.”
“You’re So Vain?”
“Yeah. That’s the one.” He smirks then. “Kinda fits your new boyfriend though, doesn’t it?”
“Or maybe your new girlfriend?” I shoot back.
His face darkens, but he doesn’t reply immediately. He just studies me and I’m intrigued, as always, with his serious brooding demeanor. “Let’s not do this, Cece.”
“Do what?”
“This. Pick at one another. Try to one-up each other. It is what it is.”
I sigh and nod my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Later,” he says and walks quietly back to his house; and away from me and the unspoken words that linger between us.
Chapter 9
October 21, 1973 (Sunday)
Dear Diary,
It was Homecoming Weekend and not what I expected at all! The game on Friday was great, we won, and the cheerleaders each got to ride around the football field in a Dune Buggy with a driver and that was really cool. The dance last night was a whole different scene and a bad one.
Marshall and I have been seeing each other a lot since I last wrote to you. I thought maybe we were getting close. He has been so attentive to me. We’re together almost every day.
We make out and I’ve let him feel me up under my clothes, but I won’t let him up my skirt and I know he’s getting impatient. I actually thought maybe we’d go all the way this weekend, but not after I saw how he acted at the dance!
He picked me up, bought me a beautiful corsage and took me to dinner at Valentino’s. We had a great time at the dance, but towards the end, he went outside and smoked up with some of the other football players and then drank some straight whiskey. After that, he got kinda mean with me. I didn’t want him driving because he was totally wrecked, but he did anyway.
The whole way back to my house, he kept trying to put his hand up my dress. I kept slapping it away and telling him to mellow out. He just got pissier. He told me to put out or get out. I told him to fuck off.
When we got to my house, he jerked me out of his car, telling me I was nothing but a dick tease and then pushed me to the ground when I told him to stick it up his ass. I still have marks on my arm left by his fingers because he squeezed so hard!
To make matters worse, Erik must have seen what happened because the next thing I know, he was there pushing Marshall up against his car, threatening to fuck him up good.
Marshall puked and then told me we were done and drove off. Erik asked me if I was okay. I said I was and he left. Just like that. Like he was the one that deserved to be pissed off.
I close my diary and safely zip it up in Pierre. I don’t want Mom to ever see this stuff.
I pull up the sleeves on my sweatshirt and check the bruising on my upper arms from Marshall. Kim’s called three times and, each time, I’ve asked Mom to tell her I’m still sleeping. Mom’s starting to get curious.
Just then there’s a tap on my bedroom door. “Cece? Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Mom comes in with a worried look creasing her forehead. “Honey,” she says, “far be it from me to pry into your personal business, but I can tell something’s wrong. Would you like to talk about it?”
She sits down on my bed next to me, wrapping her arm around me. “Did you and Marshall have a fight?”
“Sort of,” I reply. There’s no way she’s getting the details.
“Well, that’s normal for couples, especially teenagers. There’s all those hormones and stuff. It’s not easy. I can still remember how up and down life was back then for me.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Now please, don’t take this the wrong way, okay?”
I nod. What’s she going to say, as if I can’t guess?
“Do you think maybe you should go on the pill?”
I knew it.
“No,” I say quickly, turning red.
“Now, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s better safe than sorry, right? Marshall’s a good guy, but he’s a year older than you, Honey. I’m sure that it’s…well crossed his mind.”
I’m sure it has.
“I don’t think I’m going to be seeing Marshall anymore.”
“Why? Is he pressuring you?”
“Yeah, and I’m not ready for that yet.”
I think she’ll be relieved in hearing this, I mean wouldn’t most mothers breathe a sigh of relief in knowing that their daughter does not want to become sexually active at seventeen?
Not my mom apparently.
“Well, I’m certainly not trying to take sides on this, but you do realize that it’s a normal thing for boys to want to be sexual before girls do. I mean, I’m sure Marshall won’t have any problem in finding a girl that is...willing…”
“To put out?” I finish for her.
“If you want to be crude about it, well then, yes.”
I shake my head. And it pisses her off, but not as much as what I’m about to say to her does.
“Are you my mother—or my pimp?”
I don’t have time to flinch before the back of her hand makes hard contact with the right side of my face. The sound of the slap resounds against the four walls of my room.
“Don’t you be a smart aleck with me, Missy,” she warns, getting up from the bed. “You’ll watch your mouth or be picking up your teeth.”
She leaves me rubbing my face, and as I stand up and look into the mirror above my dresser, I see that she’s left a perfect outline of the back of her hand.
This is a first. My mother doesn’t slap as a rule. She yells, she grounds me or she gives me more chores to do as punishment. I realize how disrespectful I was and know that part of it was a reaction to what went down last night.
But she doesn’t know that part because I chose not to tell her. I can’t blame her for reacting the way she did when all she was doing was trying to parent responsibly.
Everyone is having sex these days. Kim and Keith, Erik and Angie; at least two of the senior girls, that I know of, have had abortions, so yes, it’s the reality. I’m just not sure I want sex with Marshall. His behavior last night is unacceptable.
I finally do the only thing that appeals to me. I shower, brush my teeth, get into my nightgown and crawl under my covers.
I pull Pierre from the bookshelf that’s part of my headboard, cuddling him in my arms as I fall asleep.
Chapter 10
I totally ignore Marshall the following Monday. Kim tells me all about her after-Homecoming sexcapades with Keith, and she’s trying to get the scoop on what we did.
I tell her that Marshall and I are finished, and that I’m not up to answering a million questions about it.
Period.
She flits off, copping an attitude because I won’t furnish details but I don’t care. I’m ashamed that I was so taken by his popularity and status that I refused to listen to the little voice in my head that tried to warn me I was totally out of his league.
When I get home from school, Mom has left a note for me on the counter.
Looks like someone wants another chance, Cece. You know that old saying, ‘To err is human
; to forgive, divine.’
There is a vase with a dozen red roses and a card attached with my name scribbled on the front. I open it.
Sorry we got carried away the other night. Let’s not argue. I care too much about you. I’ll call you later. - Marshall
Yeah. I don’t think so.
And what the hell is Mom thinking?
But she doesn’t know the extent of Marshall’s ugliness from the other night because I haven’t shared it with her. And then I wonder if it would make any difference if I had.
I lift the heavy vase and take it outside, opening the lid of our aluminum trash can, and letting the vase slip from my hand; it hits the bottom with a loud bang.
I hear someone laugh from across the street.
I turn quickly to see Erik outside, sitting on the picnic table watching me, a look of amusement crossing his handsome face. “So you’re not falling for rich boy’s apology, huh? I’m actually glad to see you haven’t totally lost your mind.”
“Unlike you?” I reply.
He gives me a slight frown, launches himself up off the table and swaggers over to my yard. “Seriously, Cece, I hope you’re finished with that asshole.”
“Why do you care all of a sudden?”
“Hey, I never stopped caring. You were the one that split, remember?”
I sigh and nod. He’s right. “I know,” I reply softly. “If I had it to do over again...”
I don’t finish the thought. It sounds so pathetic.
“What would you do?” he asks softly. He’s standing close to me now, looking at me with those soulful eyes, waiting for an answer.
“You know,” I reply, feeling like an idiot.
“Say it.”
Yeah, he’s making me squirm, and when I say it, will he throw it right back in my face? I figure if he does, I have it coming to me anyway. “I wouldn’t have broken things off with you.”
I can’t face him once the words are out. My eyes are downcast, as I brace myself for his response.
I feel his arms around me, pulling me up against his hard chest, his chin resting lightly on the top of my head, as he presses me against him, slowly rocking back and forth on his heels.
“I’ve missed you,” he replies softly. “I’ve missed the hell outta you.” He pulls back just a bit, his fingers tilting my chin upward and our eyes locking into a searching gaze.
“But what about Angie?” I ask.
“She’s not you,” he replies. “She’s just not you.”
His lips capture mine softly, but firmly, and my hands tangle in his dark hair, fisting his face even closer. His tongue is teasing mine and this feels so right. So natural. This is the way it’s supposed to be.
Our kiss is interrupted by the peeling sound of tires as a car engine revs up loudly. We look up in time to see Marshall’s new Z28 careening around the curve of the road towards us. He must’ve been stopped at the corner, watching us.
Erik shoves me behind him as the car nearly grazes me when he races by. At the end of the cul-de-sac, the sound of tires squealing can be heard as Marshall circles around, heading back our way.
“Get up on the porch,” Erik orders me. “I’ll deal with the mother fucker.”
I scurry away, turning back to make sure he doesn’t run Erik down during this pass by. Marshall brings his sports car to a screeching halt, barely waiting until he has put it in park before jumping out and lunging at Erik.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing here in my own front yard!
Marshall is tearing into Erik and, with his athletic build and stamina, I’m screaming for him to leave.
But Erik suddenly turns the tables, pushing Marshall off and then rolling over on top, straddling him, while his fists pummel our star quarterback’s All-American face, over and over again.
“Erik! Stop!”
That shrieking voice is coming from me. Everything appears as if it’s happening in slow motion. I never could’ve imagined Erik having such anger, such violence inside of him.
“You fucking asshole! You think you can push chicks around, huh? You’re a waste of humanity!”
Finally, Erik lifts himself off and gives Marshall one swift kick in the ribs, before staggering away towards me. “Come on,” he says, wiping some blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I want you inside, now.”
I hurry inside as Erik turns back around and addresses Marshall who’s picking himself up off the ground, “I don’t want to catch your sorry ass near her again, Rydell. You leave her alone. She’s not gonna be another one of your...victims.”
Marshall glances up at both of us as he brushes the dirt and leaves from the sleeves of his coveted varsity letter jacket. He gives us an evil glare. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with, Laughlin,” he says with a sneer. “But you’ll learn soon enough.”
Erik has already turned his back to him and follows me inside. I slam and lock the door. He quirks a brow at me.
“Are you scared of him?”
“No,” I say quickly, not wanting him to think that he isn’t capable of protecting me because he just proved otherwise outside.
“Well, maybe you should be,” he replies, going into the kitchen and grabbing a paper towel. He wets it at the sink, squeezing the excess water out of it and pats it against his bottom lip. “Mother fucker got me with his fucking class ring,” he says.
“Looks like maybe you got the best of him though,” I reply softly. “I never would’ve thought...”
And I don’t finish it because it wouldn’t come out right I realize.
“What?” he asks, “Never thought I could hold my own with some arrogant jock? I’m not a pussy, Cece.”
“I know that,” I reply quickly. “You’ve just always been more of a pacifist,” I clarify. “You know, peace-out and all that good stuff?”
“Yeah, well that son-of-a-bitch is another story.”
“Why did you say I should be scared?”
He tosses the paper towel into the trashcan and looks at me, his expression is serious. “Because of something Angie told me. I didn’t actually believe it until I saw him in action with you the other night.”
I sit on the sofa, pulling a leg up underneath me. “Are you talking about...sex?” I ask.
“No. I’m talking about more than that. I’m talking about forcing himself on a chick.”
My eyes widen, and I can feel my jaw drop with those words. “What? I mean...no, he’s never...”
“Look, I’m not trying to get into your mix, here. All I know is what Angie shared with me, and maybe it’s the truth, maybe it isn’t, but when I saw him tossing you around like a rag doll Sunday morning, it seemed like maybe you’re in over your head with him.”
I’m quiet for a moment. “It’s not that he hasn’t, uh...tried, it’s just that I didn’t let him get that far.”
“Yeah? Well I’m thinking now that maybe it was only a matter of time before he would’ve forced you to go that far.”
“Is that what Angie told you? She...uh, she didn’t want to do it? I mean, if that’s the case, why didn’t she report it?”
He sinks down on the sofa next to me, and runs a hand through his thick hair. “Well, she said they’d done it lots of times and it was consensual, you know?”
I nod and wait.
“And then I guess they got into some big ass argument last spring, and she broke things off.”
“She?” I interrupt.
“Yes, she broke things off. So, Rydell starts spreading shit about her, gets his jock friends to help and then goes to her house one evening and asks her if she’s tired of being on everyone’s shit list.”
Oh my God.
“She kinda lets her guard down, ya know? She doesn’t want things to be fucked up, so she tries to smooth things over. They take a drive...just to talk things out. He drives up to Mount Ogden—his family has a huge log cabin there. I guess that’s where he used to take her when they wanted to be alone. He tells her he just wants to talk, tha
t’s all. She thinks things are going well, that he gets the picture and that they can still be friends.”
Erik stops talking for a moment, and I can tell the next part is going to be ugly.
“He starts coming on to her at the cabin. Says he wants to make love with her one last time. She tells him no, but he persists. Suddenly, she doesn’t have a choice. He forced himself on her.”
“Why didn’t she report it?” I ask, feeling a bit dubious.
“She said it was because he told her that no one would believe her. They’ve got money, status, prestige—what does Angie have, huh? Her dad works for the railroad and her mom is a checker at the grocery store. Get real.”
“I still would’ve reported it, I mean, if it had happened to me.”
Erik ignores my statement and continues, “Anyway, he acts like it’s no biggie afterwards, like they’re still together. When she threatens to tell her parents what he’s done if he doesn’t leave her alone, he laughs in her face. But he does leave her alone. He makes sure that everyone at school hears his version; that he broke up with her because she was a slut or something, and then makes sure she doesn’t make cheerleader, and then he moves on...to you.”
I swallow nervously, my skin goose bumps for some reason. “If all that’s true, why didn’t you warn me about him before now? Were you willing to have him do that to me?”
“Because I told you, I wasn’t sure it was the truth. People do say shit about each other when they break up. That’s human nature. And maybe part of me was like you—wondering why she didn’t report it. I guess I believe her now.”
I sink back against him, collecting my thoughts. “Do you think he’ll leave me alone?” I ask quietly.
“I’m not gonna lie, Cece. You need to watch yourself. I’ll be there as much as I can, but I can’t watch you every minute of every day.”
“I would expect Angie wouldn’t like that very much at all.”
“She and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
My heart skips a beat at the news.
I haven’t seen her around lately, but then again, Erik isn’t one to want a chick hanging around him like a noose. I know that much from my years of being his friend/girlfriend/whatever.
