Crushed

by Dawn Rae Miller

  “Can we leave now?”

  Pause.

  “Cal? Can I pick you up in twenty minutes?”

  “I haven’t showered. My stuff’s all over the place. Plus, I think my parents are still asleep.”

  I tap my foot impatiently. “I’ll come help you pack, okay?”

  She sighs. “Fine. I’ll get in the shower now.”

  “Cool, see you in a few.” I hang up.

  As I sling my duffle bag over my shoulder, I realize she did it again. She gave in to me and did what I wanted.

  ***

  Even though it’s a rainy Sunday morning, traffic crawls over the Golden Gate bridge. Once we clear the tunnel, traffic clears, but the rain forces me to drive slower than usual. Next to me, Calista mans the music, singing along loudly — something that would normally crack me up, but today makes me jittery. It doesn’t help that angsty, emo music blasts through the SUV’s speakers.

  “Can we listen to something else?”

  Cal fiddles with her iPhone. “What do you want? Rock? Rap? Vintage 80’s?”

  “Loud.”

  She puts on my favorite indie rock band and settles back into her seat. As the car speeds along Highway 101 past Santa Rosa, we barely speak. At the exit for the Russian River, Cal reaches over and touches my hand. I clench my fingers tight.

  “Is something wrong?” she asks.

  I guide my car along the two-lane road as it snakes beneath the redwood trees.

  “I like you.” I do. I like her. But I’m not sure what that means anymore.

  The one stop light in Guerneville switches to red, and I slow down. Cal twists in her seat so that her back presses against the door.

  Her shoulders rise and fall. “You used to love me.”

  “You pushed me away.”

  Calista bangs her head softly against the window. Her breath comes heavy now, like she’s forcing herself to not cry. When the light turns green, I punch the gas and take off, driving faster than I should through the tiny town.

  “Only because my mom told me to.” Her voice shakes. “She said I was giving away the milk and that I needed to make you want me.”

  “So what was last night? You certainly didn’t seem to be following that advice.” Misplaced anger seeps into my words. I’m not mad at her. I’m not. It’s me. I’m the asshole.

  “You were upset. You needed me.”

  “So you thought, ‘Maybe I should fuck Fletch. That will fix everything?’ Well guess what? It solved nothing, because I’m more confused now.” My body trembles, anger pulsing through me. “And for the record, your mom didn’t seem to mind I stayed all night in your room. She obviously doesn’t care too much about the milk.”

  My hands tremble, and I can’t drive like this, so I pull over at the first scenic overlook I see. Below us, the river, swollen from winter rain, rages.

  Calista chews on her lip.

  “What? I can tell you want to say something,” I accuse.

  Tears well in her eyes. “My mom’s not joking when she says she wants us to get married. She’s the reason I put up with your shit.”

  My mind whirls, chopping up her words, trying to make sense of them. I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and give into my anger, hurt, and confusion.

  “So you don’t like me? You only hang out with me because Catherine makes you?”

  She twists her fingers into knots. “I’m not allowed to like anyone but you.”

  I punch the dashboard, because, right now, in this very moment, I don’t know what else to do.

  “Fuuuuuckkkk,” I scream. Not from pain, at least not physical pain.

  I jump out of the car. A sound, deep and guttural, builds in my chest, pushes its way forward, and explodes from my mouth. I stagger under its force. My feet kick at the tires of the SUV. Stupid, fucking thing.

  I remember the odd way Catherine acted at Alumni Luncheon. The way she watched Cal and me. Her excessive excitement over any attention I gave Cal.

  “Fletch.” Calista stands next to me. She’s reaching for me.

  “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.”

  I don’t even know who she is. This girl I’ve known all my life. Every fucking memory of my childhood has her in it. And why? Because her mom wants me to marry her and hook her up with my dad’s millions. Like a fucking Jane Austen novel.

  27

  I want to leave Calista on the side of the road. But I don’t. I can’t.

  For the rest of the drive, we erect an invisible wall between us. For the most part, she keeps her head turned toward the window, but every once in awhile, from the corner of my eye, I catch her spying on me.

  When I stop in front of her dorm, I jump out before Calista’s even unbuckled her seatbelt. I grab her two suitcases from the trunk and throw them as best I can at the door.

  “Fletch, stop. Let me explain.”

  “What? That every thing you ever said was a lie? That every smile was just some…” I can’t finish my thought.

  Calista touches my arm, but instead of the rush of heat that normally follows, I am cold. Frozen. Unfeeling.

  “I told you to never touch me again.” I yank my arm away and lift a cardboard box from the back of the SUV. My heart hammers at my ribs. I want to make her hurt, but I don’t want to actually hurt her. I could never do that.

  I make sure she’s looking right at me when I drop the box I’m holding on the ground. Something inside shatters. Good. Serves her right.

  While Calista bends to lift the box, I get in my car and speed off toward the parking lot. I don’t look back. I don’t care if I broke everything in that box. Besides, no matter how many of Calista’s things I break, I can’t hurt her more than she’s already hurt me.

  Once I cut the engine and climb out of the car, I funnel the anger I couldn’t use against Calista at the poor car’s door. First slamming it shut, and then pummeling it with my fist.

  When my hand begins to throb — a good, solid ache — I lean against the side. An empty hole opens in my stomach and sucks all feeling into it. Each breath is like swallowing hot, suffocating gas.

  How could I be so stupid? My world has always revolved around Calista. I can’t remember a time she hasn’t been there. I thought she’d always be there, waiting for me.

  And she would have too, but not for the right reasons. Not because she likes me.

  The pungent smell of ocean whips up and over the bluff, and the salted air stings my eyes. At least that’s what I tell myself as I blink rapidly.

  In a few hours, the entire place will be crawling with kids again. But for now, the morning mist and near-empty atmosphere give the campus a dream-like quality.

  I see everything I’ve ignored for so long: the cracks in the pavement, the buildings that need a coat of paint, how everything looks tired and worn. But I don’t want to see it. I want to go back to how it was when I moved through life in a fog — unaware of everything except myself.

  One long hysterical laugh escapes my mouth. The hurt buries itself deep inside of me, barricading itself. It’s time to be Fletch Colson again. Time to stop this ridiculous shit.

  But who the hell am I? I turn over and rest my forehead against the SUV’s roof. All my life, I’ve wanted to be like Dad. I’ve wanted to make him proud.

  And he let me down.

  It’s too much. Too fucking much. Why can’t someone just point and say, “This is the way you’re supposed to go. This is how you’re going to have the best life?” Why do I have to deal with all this?

  “Hey, you!” Ellie’s voice breaks into the thoughts spinning in my mind. “I saw you drive up and thought … Fletch?”

  I groan softly, a sound I hope the gusting wind carries away. Of course, Ellie’s here. The dorms opened yesterday for International students, but some of the East Coasters fly in early too. Other than Calista, Ellie is the last person I want to see.

  I take my time, allowing myself to regroup, as roll my shoulder against the car. Once I’ve
turned completely around, I take a deep breath. “Hey, Ellie. Have a nice break?” I try to force the emo-angst from my voice.

  She squints, like she’s trying to see into me. I hate when she does that. It makes me feel naked.

  I stare over her head. High above the trees, I can almost make out the sun glowing through the gray sky.

  “I did.” Her elbow rests against the car. There’s maybe a foot of space separating us. A month ago, I would have wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Now I want to run away. “Did you?”

  Cracks form in the dam around my heart. I shake my head. Hold it together, Colson. Hold it together. Desperate for distraction, I shove my hand into my backpack and blindly search for the small plastic bag I know is buried at the bottom. If I act busy enough, maybe she won’t ask me any more questions.

  “Here,” I say, taking one of the shell necklaces from the bag and handing it to Ellie. “I got this for you – a late Christmas present, I guess.”

  Ellie lifts the necklace between two fingers and holds the shells up to the sky. “It’s pretty. Thanks.”

  She pulls her hair off her neck and turns her back to me. “Help me put it on?”

  When my fingers brush her skin, I swear she sighs. Softly, maybe more like an exhale. Either way, my heart thumps, and for a moment, the hole in my gut fills – until I remember I slept with Calista and pretty much ruined any chance I’ll ever have of Ellie liking me.

  She spins around, and her wavy hair falls over her shoulders.

  “So, what happened? You look upset.” She leans closer to me and that one small gesture sends my emotions into a spin.

  Ellie won’t judge. She’s your friend. “I need to tell you about my dad.”

  “Okay.” She wrinkles her forehead.

  My hand tugs at the back of my hair. “Yesterday, my mom got really drunk and told me my dad cheats on her all the time.”

  Ellie draws in a sharp breath. “Oh.” A long pause. “Well he’s a dick, isn’t he?”

  I shake my head. “It’s Mom’s fault. She lets him. She said it’s her job to smile and put up with it.”

  Ellie raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. I have to keep going before the words freeze up.

  “I was so pissed, I went to Calista’s. And…” I stop, unsure if I should tell Ellie the rest. But I can’t lie to her, and not telling her is as good as lying. Besides, she knows about Calista and me. Before I lose my nerve, I blurt, “I slept with her.”

  “Oh.” She shifts her weight so that she’s standing farther away from me.

  “Yeah. Not my best decision. She basically told me afterward she only puts up with me because her mom makes her. They have their eyes on my dad’s money.”

  Ellie’s gaze is focused on something out on the horizon. She can’t even look at me. “Are you sure that’s the only reason Calista sleeps with you?”

  The memory of the resignation on Calista’s face haunts me. The surrender. “Yeah.”

  “Then you have every right to be pissed.” For a second, disappointment fills Ellie’s deep chocolate brown eyes, but then she lightly dances her fingers across my face, and it’s gone. “You have every right to be hurt, angry and confused with your Dad and with Calista.”

  I sniff a little too loudly, blink a little too rapidly. Tears sting my eyes. Ellie opens her arms wide, and I fold into her without a second thought.

  Snot pours down my throat as strange choking noises escape from my mouth. Ellie holds me tighter and rubs my back.

  Here in her arms, I can breathe. Every single layer I use to protect myself falls away, and I’m no longer Fletch Colson, man-whore and star student. I’m stripped bare until I’m just Fletch, a guy who has no idea what he’s doing.

  After a few minutes, I untangle myself from her embrace and wipe my face with my sleeve. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m a total lame ass.”

  “I think you’re normal.” She blinks. Her eyes are a little watery.

  “Don’t tell anyone. Please.”

  Ellie draws a cross over her heart. “Promise.”

  28

  Handwritten song quotes cover Brady and Reid’s door along with a whiteboard Brady’s labeled ‘sign up sheet.’ So tasteful. Not surprisingly, a message from some girl named Tara asks him to come by. Figures.

  After I pulled myself together, I told Ellie I wanted to be alone, and I thought I did, but being alone was making me an anxious mess.

  The door swings open, revealing a mostly-naked Brady and all his muscles.

  “Hey, man, what’s up?”

  “You busy?” I say, pretending to be unfazed by his state of ridiculous undress.

  “Naw. Just doing a few Sun Salutations. The flight made me tight. Come on in.” He wanders into the shithole he shares with Reid. I roll my eyes as I step over his yoga mat, which for the record, is the only clean space in the room. The way he swears by yoga, you’d think he was the one from San Francisco.

  “Jesus, Brady, what the hell happened in here?” It’s impossible to walk without stepping on clothes or books or random objects.

  “Hurricane Paige.” With his foot, Brady flips a shirt into the air and catches it. After he puts it on, he plucks a box of cookies from the top of the dresser and offers it to me. I wave it away.

  “Is she pissed or something?”

  Brady kicks a book under his bed. “You could say that. I guess Reid didn’t call her for a whole day or something. I don’t know. It was total batshit crazy.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Paige,” I say.

  Brady shrugs. “Well, she kept referencing you and me, and saying Reid better not be pulling any of our crap on her.”

  She talked to Calista. That’s the only explanation that seems reasonable. Cal probably told her some horrible story about me, leaving out the part where she’s a crazy, manipulative bitch. Poor Reid got caught in the crossfire. “That sucks. What did he do? Just stand there and take it like a punk?”

  “He broke up with her.”

  I literally freeze. What the hell is wrong with him? Reid loves Paige. “What?”

  Brady shoves a handful of clothes into his drawer. “He. Broke. Up. With her.” Brady enunciates carefully like I’m slow. “And he shaved his head.”

  “Shit.” I shove my shaking hands into my hoodie’s pockets. “This is crazy. Paige and Reid.”

  “Dude, you’re acting like you got dumped. Be happy. He’s on the market now which means we have another wingman.”

  I lean against the bunk bed. “Where is he? Do you think we should go find him?”

  Brady smirks. “I hope he’s out catching up on all the play he hasn’t gotten for the past two years.”

  When I don’t respond, he screws up his face. “Speaking of girlfriends, Ellie came by earlier. She wanted to know if you and I would like to stop by tonight.”

  “Ellie’s not my girlfriend.” And I don’t deserve her. Or I guess, she doesn’t deserve an ass like me. “Besides, she doesn’t like me like that.”

  “Sometimes you’re so dense.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “She likes you, dumbass.”

  I snort. “Doubt it.”

  “Come on, Fletch. Why else would she always be hanging around, picking up your room, taking you for walks like a little dog and stuff.”

  “She does the same for you.”

  “Ummm. No. I’m the Ellie Jacobs Project for the Betterment of Brady Pearson.” He laughs. “She’s not trying to reform you. She likes you just the way you are.”

  “Trust me, she doesn’t.” I rub the back of my neck and heat flares across my cheeks. “I saw her earlier today and told her some things.”

  That catches his attention. He stops picking at the mess on the floor and faces me square on. “What did you do?”

  He’s going to find out sooner or later — especially with Paige as pissed as she is. “I slept with Cal over break.”

  Brady’s mouth drops open. “And you told Ellie?”<
br />
  “Yeah,” I mumble.

  “Well that’s one way to win the bet.”

  “This isn’t about a bet, Brady.”

  He screws up his face for a second before saying, “She must not be too upset. She wouldn’t invite you over if she was.”

  I shrug. No. She probably thinks I’m some sort of mental case and is taking pity on me.

  “So are you and Cal a thing now?” Brady asks.

  “No.” The word comes out harsh and angry. I drum my fingers on my thigh and take a deep breath. Steady, Fletch. Part of me wants to tell him what Calista said, but he probably wouldn’t care. Why should he? I don’t care about girls. At least I’m not supposed to. And Calista is just a girl.

  Brady picks up a chip bag and crumbs spill everywhere. He acts like he doesn’t see them. “Does Cal know that?”

  “If she didn’t, she does now.” I walk over to the door. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  He studies me. “You okay?”

  “No.” I don’t elaborate, just slip into the hallway and head back to my room.

  29

  “Seriously, her tits were 34F. I checked her bra,” Brady says.

  We’re bunched around the end of the dining table, and for the first time in years, the girls aren’t here. They’ve retreated to the far side of the hall, just the two of them. I try not to look in their direction, but it’s like Calista has some sort of magnet-lock on me. I can’t stop staring at her.

  But every time I do, I want to break something. Or punch someone. Or cross the room and beg her to explain why she did it.

  Actually, I just want the persistent sick feeling in my stomach to go away.

  The room buzzes with the kind of excitement that’s always present the first day back. Unlike me and Reid, everyone else seems happy.

  With a mouth full of food, Alex asks, “Did she have huge nipples?”

  “Like this.” Brady forms a circle with his hands. “They were so big, I could put both in my mouth at once.”

  I jab at my food. I don’t really want to listen to Brady’s sexcapades. I just want to finish my food and get the hell out of here.