by Sara Hubbard
He trashed his room? He must be going out of his mind. I need to see him. Soon. “Thanks, Tate.”
“Sure. You can hang out here and wait for him if you want.”
“No, I don’t think so.” With my head still hanging, I pass by him and quietly shut the door after me when I leave. I don’t know where Michael’s head is at, and I almost don’t want to know. It’s easier to leave than be left. The cops came by—was that before or after they suspected Chloe’s a liar? I want to go home and avoid him and just call this a wash. Move on with my life. I hate messy, and that’s all I seem to be lately.
When I reach Main Street, I walk past the campus and keep going straight. Chills touch me but don’t really register. I thought I was alone before, but that was nothing. Now I’ve lost everything, including my parents. What am I going to do? Where will I live? I’ll have to get a job, that much is clear. Here? Back in my hometown? I can forget about that two-year social worker program.
I don’t realize where I’m going until I reach Tillerman Rink. I don’t even remember the walk, passing any of the houses or the farm along the way. I only remember taking a different turn and getting here. The rink isn’t busy. Just a few cars. I go inside and walk to the benches. Some older men, all silver-haired but still in good shape, play hockey on the ice. Their jerseys are all mismatched so it looks more like a friendly game than anything organized.
Smiling, I watch the pure joy in their faces as they play with their friends for fun. It’s so casual, and every once in a while, some of them leave the ice and go to the player’s bench to pull a beer out of a cooler.
Before September, I was carefree. I didn’t care about much. Things just slid off my back. Sure, I had moments of self-doubt, but that’s because I’m human, but mostly, I liked myself and I was happy to tell people to piss off who didn’t like me back. And then Brad broke me. I didn’t love him, not really. I was in love with the idea of him. I know that now. So why did his betrayal affect me so greatly? Maybe I was sick and tired of being with guys who thought it was okay to treat someone like he treated me. Maybe it wasn’t him at all but me frustrated with guys and their bullshit.
Failing in love, for a girl who’s in love with love, is crushing. It makes me question everything I’ve ever wanted. Some people might find it sad that I put so much importance in guys, but it’s not that at all. I just wanted someone to love me best. My parents never did. They liked themselves more. Just once I wanted that for myself. I’ve been waiting for it forever. Now I have Michael, and Chloe is doing her damnedest to ruin something I thought could be lasting.
And the only reason she was at Michael’s today was to hammer the wedge between us deeper. What did she say? Did he believe her? Why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t think she’s crazy, and who would smash their head into a mirror just to get a girl thrown in jail? Seriously. I hope she gets a mental evaluation and locked away indefinitely. Who knows what kind of damage she can do? Or what she’s already done that people don’t know about?
I lean back in my seat and watch the men play. When they’re finished, they leave the ice, all of them carrying a beer. I want to get on the ice and glide, feel the wind in my hair, close my eyes and feel like I’m flying. Besides Michael, skating has been the one thing I’ve looked forward to this term, and once I skated with those kids, I knew I found something important to me. My community service can’t come fast enough.
When I leave the rink, it’s pitch black. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I get a text from my lawyer.
Mr. Nolan: Police are going to evaluate the victim.
Victim? She’s no victim. I assume he means a psych evaluation, which she clearly needs.
Me: Good
Mr. Nolan: If you see her, stay away. They should have her soon.
I shove my phone in my back pocket and then pull it back out. Not one call or text from Michael. That speaks volumes. I have several from Charlie, though.
Charlie: Please call me
Charlie: I’m worried.
Charlie: ????
Charlie: Did they release you?
I’m not up for talking to her right now, or anyone, for that matter. I tap out a quick reply so she won’t be left worrying.
Me: Chloe did this to herself. They are looking into her past. Stay away from her. She’s crazy.
My phone starts to ring. Sigh. She’ll just keep calling if I don’t answer, and I don’t want her to worry. I take a deep breath. “Hello?”
“I was so worried! I saw them dragging you out, and I tried to get to you, but they wouldn’t let me get close. We went to the police station, and they wouldn’t even confirm or deny if you were being held there! I swear to God!” She starts to cry, and it nearly breaks me all over again.
“Charlie, please don’t. I’m fine. And she’s done something similar before. They’re picking her up to do an evaluation. Just stay away from her, okay?”
“I’m so glad you’re okay. This could have gone so bad.”
“It did go bad. Fortunately, my probation officer has faith in me, and he’s helping me get this fixed.”
“Have you talked to Michael?” she asks.
My chest constricts at the mention of his name. I hug myself to try to dull the pain. “Not yet.”
“You need to talk to him.”
The wind picks up and blows my hair in my face. I tuck it in the neck of my sweater and then shove my hand in my pocket. “Does he think I did it? Do you?”
“Emily…”
The sadness in her voice tells me a lot. Without a denial, I know she did. Maybe she still does.
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. People saw you both go in there. And then you’re getting dragged off, and she comes out of that bathroom looking like a scene from Carrie. We didn’t know what to think.”
“But you assumed it was possible. That I could do that to someone?”
“Emily...that’s not fair. I’ve always had your back. Always taken your side. If you tell me you didn’t do it, then I will believe you. I feel like you want people to disappoint you. You’re looking for it.”
I huff at that. “Why would I want that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it makes it easier for you to walk away.”
“I have to go.”
“Emily, stop! I love you.”
I stop walking, and my eyes burn from threatened tears. She doesn’t deserve this. I know she doesn’t, and yet I can’t force the words “I love you too. I know you have my back” out of my mouth. Instead, I say, “I gotta go.” And I hang up the phone.
It takes me almost an hour of strolling along the tree-lined road to get back to school. It’s after ten, and when I see the building where I have most of my classes, I’m reminded I have exams on Monday. I let out a strangled laugh. The last thing I’m able to do right now is study.
There are a lot of people out tonight, but it’s Saturday, and people want to decompress a little before exams. I get that. I was doing that last year the weekend before exams.
When I get to my dorm, it’s virtually empty. I take the stairs, each step harder than the one before. I feel like I haven’t slept more than five hours in the last three days. I’m sure the exact number isn’t far off. I turn the hall to get to my room and stop dead in my tracks when I find big, beautiful Michael sitting on the ground with his legs bent, his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. Like this, he looks small and vulnerable, and it splinters my heart in two.
“Michael?”
His head jolts up, and his eyes lock onto mine. His whole body seems to sigh before he pushes off the ground and hurries to me. He grabs my shirt and yanks me forward into the warmth of his embrace.
It’s so comfortable in his arms. So easy to forget what I’m thinking and even easier to just feel. I want him. Still. Even if he didn’t believe in me when I needed him to. I’m not mad, just hurt. My mind wants me to run, like full-on sprint and don’t stop. I force myself to stay because I can’t risk making
another mistake.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I nod, my face rubbing against the soft fabric of his black fleece sweater.
“When did they release you?”
I push away so I can face him and turn to unlock my door. My roommate isn’t around, and I’m thankful for that. This is going to be a difficult conversation, one I worry won’t end the way I want it to.
I open the door and walk inside, leaving it open for him to follow. He closes it behind him and stands tall, staring at me, waiting for a reply.
“Before supper.”
He processes this, and his face hardens. “Hours ago? And you’re coming home now? Where the hell were you?”
“Well, I went straight to your house, but Chloe was there, so I left.”
His lips set in a hard line.
“Where were you?” I demand, my voice growing louder. “I was in jail for what seemed like forever. I get out, but no calls, no texts, no boyfriend standing there waiting for me.”
“They wouldn’t even tell us where they took you or if they took you at all. Where the fuck was I supposed to go?”
“Did Chloe tell you what I did? Did she cry on your shoulder and tell you to hold her?”
“What are you doing, Emily? Why are you saying these things?”
My throat goes dry, and I hold up my head. I don’t know why either, but the words are flowing quicker than my mind can process them. If I keep this up, I will push him away, and I’ll never forgive myself. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I was angry because I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t get to you! And I smashed my phone against the wall of my fucking room.”
Stop. Just stop, I tell myself. I hang my head and start to cry. His arms reach out and grip my shoulders. He pulls me in. “Stop it, Emily. I’m not going anywhere. Why won’t you believe me when I say this? I’m. Not. Going. Anywhere.”
I let my head fall to his chest and I sob, letting go of all the ugliness that has happened and the ugliness I have inside of me. I want to change, want to find a way to stop being self-destructive, but I don’t know how. It’s like I’m wired for this. Like my brain instinctively repels what’s good for me.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t do it,” I say between hiccups. “I didn’t. I swear. Do you know that? Did you think I did?” I look up at him, my eyes wet and my nose running. I don’t care how miserable I look. I want to look in his eyes and know he means whatever comes out of his mouth.
“It happened so fast,” he whispers. He smooths away my hair and runs his hands down the sides of my face. “But it didn’t make sense to me. It’s one thing to smash a car, but it’s another to lay hands on someone, especially in the way you would’ve had to, to give her those injuries.” He sighs. “It didn’t make sense,” he repeats.
I need him to say it. “Did you think I did it?”
“I didn’t know. But you say you didn’t, and I believe you.”
“What happened when she came over today?”
“She tried to sell me her story. Tried to invite herself in because she claimed she needed me and had no one else.”
I grit my teeth and tears keep sliding down my face. “Did you let her?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “No. You don’t seem to get it. I could never be with her ever again.” His lips brush over mine and then he presses down lightly with a feather-fine touch that makes my stomach dance. “I want you, Emily. Just you. And I’ll never stop. My stepmom told my dad she knew the moment she met him that he was the one. He proposed within a month, and me and my brothers were shocked. We didn’t think it would last because you can’t know when you meet someone that they’re it for you. You just can’t.” He takes a breath. “But I’d never experienced it, so how could I understand it? That first night at the rink, something about you drew me to you. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I would never have done anything about it when I had a girlfriend, but it made me want Chloe less. How could I be with someone when my mind was always on you?”
He wanted me even then? “But you loved her.”
“Yeah, I did. But like I said before, I knew we weren’t forever, and maybe that made it easier for me to fall for her. I knew eventually I would want to let her go and my heart would recover.”
“What about me?”
“You?” he chuckles. “I want you, Emily. How many times do I have to say it.”
“Even though I scare you?”
He regards me seriously. “You terrify me. I considered walking away from you in the beginning, but I couldn’t force myself. I always thought I’d rather avoid falling hard for someone than get my heart broken again, but when it comes to you, I’d rather risk it than live without you in my life. I fucking adore you.” He pulls me into a crushing embrace that squeezes the air from my lungs. As my feet dangle from the ground I sniff away tears while revealing in the fierceness of his emotions and his sweet welcome confession.
“I fucking love you, Emily. Every little detail.”
I still. My emotions overwhelm me and make my tears start again. Men have said this to me so many times in my life, but never before have those words meant as much. Never have I felt so sure about the person delivering them.
He relaxes his hold so I can breath normal again and I squeeze him tighter because I don’t want him to ever let me go. He peppers me with kisses along my face, saying it over and over again, like it’s a promise of forever, while I melt against his body.
* * *
Michael stays the night. When I wake, Marla is in her bed. I feel bad about having Michael here, but we weren’t doing anything. I didn’t even hear her come in. I look at my guy next to me and smile. My urge to flee is still there. I just feel like I’m more in control of the instinct than I was before. I can tell it to shut up now, and it goes away for a little while.
I climb over him to get up and go to the bathroom. I kiss his shoulder as I maneuver like an acrobat, careful not to disturb him or wake Marla. I pull on some sweatpants over my undies and his T-shirt. It smells like him, delicious and sexy. I might steal it permanently.
The halls are quiet. It’s not quite morning. I make my way to the bathroom in my slippers, yawning and brushing tangles out of my hair with my fingers. I hurry, wanting to get back to Michael’s warm body. I pick the same stall by the windows I always use. As I start to go, I hear the swinging bathroom door creak open. I keep peeing, and when I’m finished, I pull up my pants and unlatch the stall door. I yelp at the sight of Chloe’s beaten face. And then gasp at the sight of a baseball bat in her hands. Brad’s bat. Or an exact match.
She tips her head to the side, looking at me like a creature from a horror flick.
“It makes me sick to my stomach to look at you,” she says in a monotone voice. “Blond hair, blue eyes, thin, perky breasts, and perfect teeth. You probably didn’t even have braces. That’s probably all natural. Perfect little Emily.”
I hold up my hands. “Chloe, you need to go. There’s no walking away from this if you do what I think you’re going to do.”
“Don’t you know? I’m crazy. Huh! So are you!” She laughs hysterically, but not loud enough to draw attention. “I guess Michael likes broken dolls like his mother.”
“Shut up about his mother.”
She smashes the baseball bat against the stall door, and I jump back in fright. She glares at me with hate-filled eyes. “I’m going to kill you, Emily. Actually, no. I’m going to destroy your face so he won’t ever be able to look at you again without thinking of me.”
She lets out a warrior call and brings the bat high over her head. I duck out of the way, and it collides with the toilet. Water sprays up and over us. I lunge for her, getting her to the ground. She groans in pain, but it doesn’t slow her down. She drops the bat and we roll. When I get her down, I start to yell for help, screaming, “Anyone! Please! Call 911! Help!”
“You bitch!” She squirms and manages to bring up a knee and gets me on the inside of the th
igh. I lose my grip and stumble, and she takes advantage, rolling me over. When I’m on my back, she screams wildly, hitting me over and over again, in the chest, in the face. She’s so quick I can’t stop her, and I can’t block them all. I hold my arms over my face where my forearms take most of the blows.
I don’t hear people enter the room. I don’t hear them surround us. I only know they’re there when arms reach out to pull her off. She flails about, her arms and legs still kicking and swinging. Michael storms in and sees me. Rage burns brightly in his eyes as he approaches her, taking her from the four girls and one guy who hold her. “That’s enough, Chloe. Enough!”
“No! She ruined everything.”
“No. She did nothing. It would have happened anyway.”
“No! Michael you love me. I know you do.”
“No, Chloe, I don’t. I’m in love with Emily, and that’s not going to change. Not ever.”
I stare up at him, amazed by how fiercely he delivers his words. If I doubted his feelings for me, I don’t anymore.
“I love you, too,” I say quietly.
The wind seems to leave Chloe sails, and her body goes limp. Michael lets go of her, and she falls to the ground, sobbing. My face is numb, and my eyesight is foggy. But I watch her. My fear and anger dissipate. I feel bad for her, too. It’s so easy to let your emotions get the better of you. I did, more times than I can count, but when Michael pulls me into his lap and holds me tight, I promise myself I won’t ever do that again. My destructive days are over. He deserves better, and quite frankly, so do I.
He strokes my hair and sighs. “You scared me for a moment.”
I’m sure I did. I can only imagine the thoughts that passed through his mind when he saw Chloe trying to maim me. He already lost his mother and he’s so protective of people he cares for. Did it make him worry she’d kill me and I’d leave him too? I would have freaked out if I saw him in the same situation and I’d lost someone I loved when I was a child. I cup his cheek, and he covers my hand with his. “You’re stuck with me,” I say, “for better or for worse.”
