“Right,” I say distractedly, watching Arleen enter the room. She sits on the opposite side of the room from me, and she looks distraught. Her hair is messy and her eyes look puffy.
She looks at everything and nothing as she contemplates something inside of her. Her eyes close, and her forehead creases as she shakes her head. To watch her struggling grabs hold of my beating heart and squashes it.
I rise from my chair, leaving my plate behind. Moving toward Arleen, I pass by Miss Shields holding a plate full of food, but ignore her. I’m a few steps away from Arleen when she finally sees me.
Our eyes lock.
The room empties.
And I offer her my hand to leave.
She takes hold, and I escort her out of the convention hall. We make it to the elevator and the doors close. Knowing I might not get an opportunity to speak with her alone this weekend, I jump at the chance.
“Arleen, I—”
“Simon, don’t.”
“But if you’d just—”
“What? Listen to your explanation? You really think anything you say could make a difference? What would I do with that, huh? It was bad enough that you fucked anything with a vagina within a mile radius, but to try to explain to me what I saw on your computer? Sorry, but there’s nothing that you could say that would make me think you’re a good person. No matter how much I may have wanted to believe it.”
“Is that why you came with me just now? If you didn’t want to talk to me then why are you here? You want to believe me because deep down you know that with you it’s different. I’m different.”
The elevator dings as we arrive on my floor. I take out my keycard and walk to my room.
“Where are you going?” Arleen calls behind me, hovering close to the elevator.
I swipe the card and grab my bags before the door can close again. I’m out of the room and walking back toward Arleen within seconds. “I’m going wherever you go.”
“What? You can’t.”
“Listen to me, Arleen.” I walk back into the elevator and motion for her to punch the button to her floor. The doors close and I plop my bags down. “First, there’s no way I’m sleeping in that room tonight. I don’t care if I have to sleep on the street outside. So just drop it. Second, you and I have things we need to talk about, so I suggest we go back to your room and discuss them.”
She rolls her eyes and stares at the ceiling of the elevator. “Simon. I have a roommate. You can’t just go wherever you want. Besides, there are rules. We’re not supposed to have co-ed rooms.”
The elevator doors open and I walk out into the hall. Arleen follows me.
“Fuck the rules. Besides, I think both you and I know I won’t be laying a hand on you tonight, so the rules don’t apply. We’ll just give your roommate my keycard and let her know that the rooming assignments have changed.”
“But aren’t you rooming with another guy?”
I hesitate. “No. It’s fine. I promise.”
She narrows her eyes and I know she knows I’m keeping something from her.
“I’ll explain everything. Where’s your room?”
***
It turns out Mallory was Arleen’s roommate. I hid in the bathroom when Mallory came back, and I could hear Arleen tell her about the rooming arrangements. She seemed to be content with Arleen’s explanation.
I laugh to myself when I picture Miss Shields’s face when she comes back from dinner to discover Mallory in the room next to hers. Quite a different weekend from the one she had envisioned, I’m sure.
After I hear the door click, I walk from the bathroom and Arleen is sitting on the bed.
“Talk, Simon.”
I look around the room. It’s small compared to the suite Miss Shields has. But there is a small chair in the corner, and I pull it close to the bed to sit down. “Let me first start by saying that everything I’m about to tell you is going to sound like the most ludicrous thing you’ve ever heard. But I promise you, it’s the truth.”
She nods, and I continue.
“When I was eleven, my parents left. Not in the same way yours did. But they decided that traveling around the world was more important to them than raising their son.” I shrug, trying to show her that I know it’s nothing compared to what she’s been through, but I can’t pretend like the abandonment didn’t affect me. “When I got into high school, things went from bad to worse. My grades had always been good, but I started failing tests, I didn’t have a lot of friends, and I didn’t really have anyone I could talk to.”
Arleen nods, intently listening, and lies on the bed on her stomach. Propping her head up with one hand, she’s facing me and urging me to continue.
“Then I met someone.” I swallow, trying to avoid telling her who it was, even though she’s going to start putting together the puzzle any minute now. “She was perfect. Attentive. Beautiful. But she was a lot older than me. And after I met her, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how she made me feel. Of course now I realize that it was foolish, but back then she seemed like the perfect solution to my loneliness.”
“So what happened?”
My head bobs down and I exhale a deep breath. “I came up with a plan to become the perfect man.”
She smiles. “That didn’t work out so well, did it?”
I laugh. “Right?” Although I still have a smile on my face, it begins to fade as I know the tone of the conversation is about to get more serious. “I thought… I thought in order to get a woman like her, I needed to become someone she’d never want to leave.”
Her smile disappears too, and I can see she understands what I’m telling her.
“That’s when I started my spreadsheet.”
She nods, and I don’t need to explain anymore.
“Can I ask you a question?” she says.
“Yeah.”
“What’s it like? You know, sex?”
“It’s…it’s…” I shrug. “It’s never really been a big deal. I mean, the first time it was, but after that it got weird for me. It became something I started analyzing and breaking down. And it was about trying to learn about it instead of just experiencing it. It became a homework assignment—something I was studying for because the test was coming when I turned eighteen.” I think back to my first time and try to remember what it was like not to know. “It’s never been like what we read about. What we hear about. Or what we dream about. Not for me, anyway.”
A long silence falls between us, but I can tell she has more she wants to say.
“Do you know where she is now? The woman that started all of this?”
I take a sharp inhale and close my eyes. “Yes.”
“Where is she, Simon?”
I lift my head and open my eyes. “She’s in room four-oh-six.”
I can see that she’s pieced it all together now.
“Isn’t that the room right next door to the room Mallory will be sleeping in tonight?”
I slowly nod my head and keep my eyes on the floor.
“What was this weekend supposed to be, Simon? Was Miss Shields going to have sex with you?”
I scratch my eyebrow and take a quick look at her. “I guess I’ll never know.”
“And you’re here, with me?” Her eyes are wary. “Three years of your life thinking about her, and now you’ve been given the chance, and you’d rather be here with me?”
“I’d rather be here with you,” I tell her emphatically. “I take that back,” I say, holding up a finger. “I’d rather be eating pizza with you right now, because I never got a chance to eat dinner.” A smile spreads across my face.
“Oooh. Pizza!” Wiping eyes I hadn’t realized were wet, she scrambles for the brochures by the phone and starts dialing the first delivery number she finds.
“So what happens next? For you, I mean,” she asks after she hangs up the phone.
“I’m okay. I’m going to be fine. I obviously have a lot I need to talk to my parents about, but I’m saving that fo
r awkward holiday get-togethers when I’m thirty. I figure by then I’ll have fun just watching them squirm.” I wink. But then I sober up and think about what she asked me. “Honestly, I don’t know. I know I have to choose a college or a job of some kind. I hadn’t really taken into consideration that I’d need to do much past Katie—I mean Miss Shields.” I cringe at Arleen’s dark expression to my overly familiar use of our teacher’s name.
“But now?”
“But now she means nothing to me. The only person I give a shit about is sitting right in front of me.”
Arleen looks away shyly.
“And I want her to know that I’m not going to leave her. If she wants me here, I’ll stay.”
She nods. “Stay.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The debate will start early—eight o’clock—and by seven, Arleen and I are out the door and eating the complementary breakfast in the lobby restaurant.
“You ready for today? It’s been a crazy couple of weeks. Are you prepared?” she asks.
I shake my head and take a bite of bacon. “Nope. Not at all.” I laugh. “I honestly don’t even know what the topic is.”
“You’re joking, right?” I shake my head, biting back a smile. “Simon! Miss Shields told us the topic two weeks ago!”
“I’ve been a little distracted. A debate topic was the least of my worries.”
She laughs. “Well, you’ll be happy to know that there probably would have been very little research you could’ve done on the subject anyway, considering your own experience.”
I set my fork on the table and cock my head to the side. “What do you mean?’
She takes a sip of orange juice and smirks. “You’ll see.”
***
We walk into the debate hall with ten minutes to spare. Most of the students are there, along with teachers and moderators. The room is huge, and there are cafeteria-type rows of tables set out with each school’s name on a paper placard set in the middle.
Arleen and I quickly find our seats across from each other, and I look around for some hint of what the debate subject is. Arleen’s comment has piqued my curiosity.
The first half of the day will comprise a series of rapid-fire questioning. The debates will be about current events mostly centering around the tournament topic. The second half of the day we will engage in a debate with another school on the topic itself.
There are students with PowerPoint presentations ready to go—visual aids with charted statistics, pie charts, and percentages. Others have reference books, and are already mock-debating within their groups, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. None of these things can be used during the final debate, but we’ll have twenty minutes to discuss the side we want to take. And when the time comes, we will state which side we’re on: Proposition or Opposition.
“What’s it about, Arleen?”
She smiles widely and shakes her head. “Should contraceptives be made available to teenagers in high schools."
I laugh. “Are you shitting me?”
She shakes her head with a sly smile. “Nope.”
I lean back and look off to the corner of the ceiling. Of all the debate subjects…
“Simon, Arleen. Are you ready to go?” Miss Shields appears behind me.
“Yeah.” I nod reassuringly. “I think we’re the most prepared students here.”
“Good.” She raises an eyebrow. “Where is your research?”
Arleen swallows, and I glance up at Miss Shields. With a smirk, I point to my head. “It’s all in here, Miss Shields.”
Miss Shields frowns.
“Don’t worry. I’ve done extensive research on this subject.”
“Well, you two are my rebuttal speakers. You’ll be the last students to make your point. Make sure you reiterate the facts, Simon.” She looks back to Arleen. “We’re all counting on you two.”
The rest of our class joins us, one by one. And just as the MC is announcing that discussions will begin in twenty minutes, Arleen leans in and whispers, “Are you sure you know what you’re going to say?”
“Nope!” I laugh. “But I’ve got some time to think about it. Which side are we taking?”
“With your expertise? Let’s pray for Proposition,” Arleen giggles.
***
The first half of the day flies. They give us a set of fifty questions, where we have a few minutes to talk amongst ourselves and find our stance. Then the two teams debate. At the end, they tally the scores and declare the winner.
The second half of the day, the debate on the topic commences. First, Mallory and Francesca will deliver what’s called the first proposition constructive. This will be the six-minute foundation on which we make our case. Then the other team will present theirs.
There’s then a second constructive, where both sides will come back with further evidence to prove their stance, and refute the opposing team’s.
Then the rebuttal comes. This is where Arleen and I will have to come up with a five-minute conclusion to our team’s stance.
After receiving our victory on the morning debates, we go out for a brief lunch and are back again before the MC returns to the podium.
A short, stocky student stands on the opposite team and states her position. “We oppose the idea of contraceptives being made available to teenagers in high schools."
I smile, and Arleen peeks at me out of the corner of her eye with a smirk.
“We might just win this thing after all.” She winks.
We sit attentively, listening to the Opposition make their case. The points they make are valid, and worth consideration, but even with the strong moral points they make about promoting sex at a young age, I think it’s safe to say my entire existence has proven them wrong.
Arleen leans into me. “Do you want to take this, or should I?”
“I think it’s best if I go up there. Not that you couldn’t beat them easily, but I have a few things I want to say.”
“Okay. I trust you.” She nods and we both listen as the other team wraps up their rebuttal.
I know there’s only one way we can win. And that’s if I tell them all the truth.
Before getting to my feet, I reach into my pocket and pull something out. “I’ve been meaning to give this back,” I say, dropping the object in Arleen’s hand.
She looks down at the silver locket I had picked up all those weeks ago after falling asleep with her in the ruins.
Arleen looks startled and then a little weepy. Shit, am I going to make her cry again?
“I thought I’d lost it,” she whispers.
Maybe I shouldn’t have given it to her when we were expected to give a rebuttal, but the timing just felt right.
“My mom gave it to me. Before she left. It’s the only thing I have left of her—that’s good, anyway,” Arleen says softly, fingering the chain.
She grabs my hand and puts the necklace in my palm. “You keep it. For luck,” she says with a smile.
“I can’t—”
“Just take it. I want you to have it,” she insists, leaning over and giving me a kiss on the lips.
I tuck the locket in my pocket and know exactly what I need to say up there.
As the opposing team member steps down, I straighten my suit coat and tie, smoothing them out nervously. When I reach the podium, I clear my throat.
I look to the judge and he nods, giving me the go-ahead.
“My name is Simon Blackwell, the third.” I look around the room and see the faces of several of the girls I’ve slept with. “And I’m a douchebag.”
What had once been restless bodies in motion becomes absolute and total silence.
“I’ve shared my bed with several women. I’m not proud of it. To understand my story, I’ll need to take you back to a time when I was at a low point in my life. My parents were constantly travelling, I didn’t have many friends, and my imagination ran wild because I didn’t have anyone to keep my feet grounded. I’ve always been a guy with
big ideas and big dreams, and I’ve always mapped out a plan to achieve the success for my future. But no matter how unrealistic those dreams were, I always found a way to make them happen.”
“That’s when I lost my virginity. And even though I was sixteen at the time, older than some in this room, I was still too young. But the problem with the opposition’s stance is not that they’re wrong. I can’t argue that they make a strong case. Contraceptives promote a certain promiscuity at any age. But let’s be honest: when we’ve got the King of Teenage Hormones asking us to go into battle, he doesn’t care whether or not we’re armed. We do as he says without asking questions. It isn’t often we’re given the opportunity to fight for the cause that doesn’t involve pornhub dot com and a bottle of lotion.” The room roars with laughter, and I wait for the crowd to settle down before I continue.
“Everyone in this room knows what it’s like when we’re in that moment. Self-control flies out the window. It’s hardwired into us. You can’t argue it if you’ve been there. If you’ve read the material on this subject, then you know that kids are having sex whether they have a condom in their drawer or not. So this argument has nothing to do with whether or not giving out free contraceptives is a moral question.” I pause to make the last sentence resonate.
“I’m a planner, a researcher, a loyal spreadsheet creator. I’m kind of a geek that way. But when I was fifteen, I passed my school office and the word SEX caught my eye, poking out from behind a brochure on suicide and mental health. I stuffed it into my backpack and read it when I got home. Have you ever read the brochures they give us about this subject? Well, I have. I can tell you that I read them when I was researching for more than just a debate. It’s been a couple of years now, but from what I can remember, those brochures inform the kids of STDs, pregnancy, and about dozens of other issues that only arise when you become sexually active.” I stare off into the audience. “But what they don’t tell you is who you should be sharing that sexual experience with.” I glance over to Arleen, and she smiles in that way of hers that I love.
Four Play: A Collection of Novellas Page 14
