I hear silence, followed by Calvin’s footsteps. He emerges in the kitchen, immediately taking a seat opposite me. “She’s fine,” he first says. I look up then, raising one eyebrow. He knows what I’m secretly asking. What about the scumbag?
“Barry’s got a concussion, fractures to both eye sockets, his jaw, and a broken nose. He’s alive, but in bad shape. Fuck, Jez. You must have fucking wailed on the cunt.”
I did. But I’m not going to go into detail on that. I know I got out of control, but the anger got the better of me. I guess I am my father’s son. “What is she saying that happened?” I ask, eager to hear the answer. How did she explain the state he was in?
“She told them she had come home to find some guy with a mask beating up her brother. When she intervened he bashed her head, rendering her unconscious for a while. When she woke up the police were already on their way.”
I had to close my eyes for a second to let that sink in. Not only was she protecting me, she was also protecting her brother. I’m no way condoning my own actions, but he should at least be held accountable for the woman-beating scumbag that he is.
“You know this means we’re going to have to cancel your fight on Friday?”
I snap my head up to look at Calvin. I had completely forgotten about that. Fuck! So many people will be disappointed. Not to mention question the reason why. I had never missed a fight since I started this over a year ago. Despite the fact my fights are always over within seconds, the loyal fans still come to see me. The room filled with a crowd so big that people are sitting on someone’s shoulders. Every time I have a fight it never fails to amaze me just how many come. I think some are there because they’re truly loyal fans, but others are there because they want to see me get my ass kicked one day. I know that day will come, but thankfully not so far.
“I know.” I raise my hand and we both look at it. “I can’t punch for shit right now, and I doubt I will for a while.”
I hear the scrape of his chair as Calvin gets up to put all the shit away. “Don’t worry about that for now. I’ll make a few phone calls and straighten this out. I’ll explain you’re not well, so we’ll need to reschedule for a couple of weeks’ time.” Once he’s put the first aid kit in the cupboard, he turns around to face me, grabbing the kitchen countertop with both hands behind him. “You may want to avoid going to college for now. You can’t be unwell and then turn up looking well. And not only that, people will see your hand. Tongues will wag, they’ll put two and two together and come up with four. It was plainly obvious to me why your hand was fucked up like that when I saw it. What are other people going to think?”
I hadn’t thought of that. What is my professor going to think of me not turning up for college within mere days of starting? None of this is going to look good, but Calvin’s right. If I turn up at college when I’m supposed to be ill, then that won’t go down well. I can’t say I had an accident with my hand because people will also soon find out about Amy and her brother. They’ll think it a coincidence and it is. The last thing I need is the cops breathing down my neck.
But, funnily enough, that’s not the part that pisses me off the most. Out of all the shit that went down tonight, us having to cancel my fight, and me missing classes, the part that stands out right on top of that list is Caitlin.
I won’t get to see Caitlin.
I haven’t seen Jeremy in days. I don’t know why that disappoints me considering we’re just friends. Coincidently enough, Amy has been missing too. Although she doesn’t go to the same college, she’s always there, whether it be for Jeremy or her friends. It might be that she’s not there because Jeremy isn’t, but I still can’t help a nagging part of me that thinks they’re together. I had heard she has trouble with her brother and that something went down a few nights ago. Again, Jeremy hasn’t been seen since either. I’m not sure what went down. Maybe I don’t want to know, but it still hurts that he hasn’t tried to call or text after that time we spent together a few nights ago. Also, he canceled his fight last Friday citing ill health. I had sent him a message through Facebook to see if he’s okay, but he hasn’t responded. We’re not friends on Facebook, but then again, I keep my profile private. I’ve had to ever since Jack.
It’s now the following Tuesday and I’ve just finished a full day of grueling History lectures. I have homework and already I’m under pressure. Stacey finished a couple of hours ago and has been gloating ever since. She delighted in sending me photo after photo of her lounging on the couch binge-watching The Sinner on Netflix. It didn’t help that I felt so tired today. I’m not sleeping very well. But then again, I’ve never been able to since Jack. In the end, I sent Stacey a GIF of a girl flipping the bird. She sent one back of a young girl pouting. I had laughed and that was that. My phone has been silent since.
Until now.
I hear the ping on my phone alerting me to a message. I’m thinking it’s Stacey again, but this time it’s not. It’s from Jeremy. There’s a friend request from him too.
Looking up, I make sure no cars are on the road before starting to cross. My attention back to my phone, a brief smile touches my lips as I click on the little message bubble on my phone. I note, before I click that the photo he has is of him and Calvin at front center with a huge crowd of people behind them either giving the peace sign or something worse. Jeremy’s shirtless, his arm captured by Calvin, who’s holding it up in the air in victory. I don’t want to like that photo. It’s a celebration of violence that I can’t adhere to. But my heart still skips a slight beat when I see his face—his body. My thighs still want to clench together as my loins wake up for the first time in what seems like forever. I thought Jack had killed any chance of me feeling anything but resentfulness, regret, and rage—anything it seems beginning with R. I know I’m a broken girl. A mess.
I feel I’m letting Jack win by putting up a cautious barrier. My mom gets upset at times and sometimes blames herself for what happened. The guilt of knowing she feels this way rips apart at me too. I’m a coward for running away and I know I have a good excuse because of Jack and his family, but if I’m really, truly honest, it’s because of my parents too. I don’t want to look in their faces anymore and see the distress I caused them from my ill-fated relationship. From the moment I would wake up in the morning and sit and eat breakfast with them, I could see it in their faces. Fear made me run, yes. But guilt made me flee too.
My phone—being super slow—takes forever to bring that bubble up so I can read the message. I’m walking. I’m waiting. I’m so engrossed that I never see it coming until it’s too late. I hear the screeching of tires first before my heart stops and my legs buckle from the impact before I even have a chance to look up and see what’s hit me. I fall ungraciously down to the ground, my legs already throbbing from the impact. My head’s dazed as I finally manage to look up and see my surroundings. What I see first is the winged-like emblem of a BMW Mini inches away from my face.
“Oh my God!” A girl around my age races toward me, her hands shaking and her eyes assessing me. “Are you okay?”
I’ve got so much homework to do.
Odd that this brief, groaning thought passed through my head at a time I’ve just been hit by a car. I should be worried if I can get up—that I can walk even.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t see you. You just came out of nowhere.”
I know it’s my fault. I was so busy trying to read Jeremy’s message that I wasn’t looking where I was going. Again, it’s an all too significant reminder that he’s a distraction—and a bad one at that.
“I’m fine,” I say, answering her first question. “It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
I see a hand in my face and immediately take it. The girl helps me up to my feet slowly, all the while assessing my possible injuries.
“I need to take you to the hospital.”
I know I’m fine. No broken bones. I’ll be sore for a couple of days, but nowhere near as bad as what I’
ve had to handle in the past.
“I’m fine. Honestly.” I brush down any possible dirt I’ve picked up from the floor and look up. The girl hands me my bag and phone that I hadn’t realized until now I had dropped on the floor on impact. “Thank you.” I smile, trying to reassure her. The girl’s forehead crinkles a little, worry obviously furrowing her brow. She’s tiny, I now realize. She can’t be any more than five-foot-two. Her hair is a mousey brown, propped up high in a tight bun. She wears a floral maxi dress, which I immediately find strange considering it’s not summer anymore. I wonder if she’s lucky enough not to feel the cold like I do. If the temperature dips below seventy then I’m grabbing a coat to keep me warm.
I place the weight of one foot onto the other quickly realizing that although sore, I’m altogether fine. I will live.
“I need to take you to the hospital,” she reiterates again.
I smile before remembering that she hit me with her car and possibly has damage. My eyes widen and she follows my eyes to the bonnet. “Your car.” I bend down to see if I’ve caused any damage. In the end, the accident was my fault. I can’t afford to dip into my college fund to pay for a damaged car, but at the end of the day I wasn’t looking where I was going. Thankfully it looks unscathed.
“You’ve just been hit by a fifteen-hundred-pound car and you’re more worried about that?”
“It was my fault.”
“I don’t care whose fault it was. Your life’s worth more than this,” she answers, her hand darting in the direction of the Mini. “Please, let me take you to hospital. I won’t quit worrying until you’ve been seen by a doctor and properly looked at.”
She bites her lip, awaiting my answer, her frown deepening the longer I take. Nothing more needed than a couple of Advil and a good rest, but I also know I can’t go home knowing she’ll worry about me if I do.
I have so much homework to do.
I can hear the groan in my head, rattling around, but I know my guilt will win out.
“Okay, I’ll go.”
Her shoulders lower with an exhale of breath. She smiles, grabbing my hand. “Thank you.” She lets go, walking around to the passenger side of her car and opening the door for me to get in.
I stay still for a moment before smiling. “This is completely unnecessary.”
She shrugs one of her shoulders. “I would rather be cautious than wake up tomorrow to find out that you’ve got a pulmonary embolism or something.”
A small laugh escapes my lips before I take my first step. It’s then I realize I may have twisted my ankle. I didn’t note it before, but now it’s starting to hurt. I can’t help the little wince as I take my steps toward the car.
“See. I knew I was right.”
Out of nowhere, she’s right beside me, grabbing my arm and helping me toward the seat. It’s a welcome relief as I slide down, taking the weight off.
“My name’s Pamela.” Her hand is outstretched, awaiting my introduction. I take her hand, giving a swift shake.
“Caitlin.”
“What a lovely name.”
She fiddles with her seatbelt, reminding me that I need to do the same. “My parents were on vacation in Florida when my mom was pregnant with me. By then they knew they were having a girl, they just couldn’t decide on a name. They argued nonstop about it.”
Pamela starts driving, but briefly looks my way, smiling. “I bet a lot of couples fight over names. How did they come up with Caitlin in the end?”
“There was a young girl working there as a chambermaid so she could afford to go to college. Every day she would turn down their beds and leave a chocolate on their pillow. My mom said she was such a tiny, pretty young lady who always had nothing but a smile on her face. She told me that she’d hoped I would end up like her one day. Happy, no matter what situation I’m in.”
I’m sorry I disappointed you, Mom.
“On the last day of their vacation, my mom put a generous tip inside and envelope for her, but she wanted to make sure she got it personally. My parents took the bags down to the car and before checking out they searched high and low for the young, tiny chambermaid, who always had a smile on her face. They eventually found her in the corner of one of the hotels dining rooms, her head in a chemistry book, a sandwich in her hand. My mom said she felt embarrassed as she didn’t know the girl’s name. Long story short, she handed her the envelope, thanked her for making their vacation special, and asked for her name.”
“Caitlin, I take it?”
I fake gasp. “How did you know?” We both laugh together. “My mom said she immediately looked at my dad and they knew without saying a word that Caitlin was what my name was going to be.”
“That’s kind of cool. You never know, you could be named after a famous Physicist of Chemical Engineer by now.”
I smiled at the thought, shrugging my shoulders. “You never know.”
“So, what do you study? I take it you’re at college because that’s where I ran you over.”
I shake my head on a laugh. “You didn’t run me over.”
Her shoulders tense before she shudders. “I could have done.”
“But you didn’t. Even if you did, it was still my fault. I was too busy looking down at my phone.”
A wind chill blows through her window, making me quiver a little. Pamela notices, her eyes briefly dancing my way before winding it up. “I’m sorry. I’m always being told I’m like a polar bear. I never feel the cold.”
“That’s okay.” I remember her question before we got distracted. “I am at college. I’m studying History.”
A mischievous smirk rises on her lips. “Are you going to be Evelyn to the hunky Rick?”
I frown at her and when she doesn’t get a response, she turns briefly, noting my frown.
She opens her mouth, a sizeable laugh escaping her small frame. “The Mummy. It’s one of my favorite movies. Have you not seen it?”
“I have. It’s one of my favorites too. I just never remember characters’ names as well as you do.” That movie was actually one of my mom’s guilty pleasures. She loved Brendon Fraser back in the day when Brendon Fraser was everywhere. I must admit, the thought of running around Egypt with a bunch of relics and a hunky man to protect me does sound rather nice, but I’m not one to dwell on fantasy. I’ve lived too much reality for that.
“I’m really good with stuff like that.” I glance at her and she looks too. “Names and stuff. That’s why my mom always picks me to make a list whenever she hosts a party or gathering. She never remembers anyone’s names, so she leaves it all up to me.” She giggles, before saying, “I don’t mind, though.”
“Are you at college?”
She nods as she continues driving. I note looking out of the window that we’re nearing the turning before we reach the hospital. “I am, but I attend Fairfax.” I’m about to ask her what she studies when she opens her mouth to talk. “I’m studying Social and Human Behavior. I like people and how they think, feel, and act. It’s something that’s always fascinated me.” I’m about to tell her that it’s an interesting vocation when she suddenly shouts, “We’re here!”
She swiftly parks the car, running around my side to help me out. I hobble, noticing my right ankle is a little sore now, but nothing I can’t handle. When we get to the counter we tell the triage what happened and she hands me a form to fill in.
“I’ll pay for all this. It’s the least I can do.”
“I have insurance.” Thanks to Mom and Dad.
Her delicate fingers grasp over my arm. “Please. It will make me feel better.”
After an hour of waiting I’m finally seen, my ankle X-rayed, and as I thought, apart from some bruising, I’m fine. A couple of days with my foot alleviated and some Advil for the pain and I will be okay.
“I’m so relieved,” Pamela says, closing her eyes on an exhale.
“I told you I would be okay.”
“Let me buy you a coffee. Or even better still, a hot chocolate.”
She licks her lips, causing laughter to escape me.
“Okay, but I insist I pay for it.”
Unfortunately the cafeteria is locked with no explanation other than a note to say they will be re-opening as soon as possible and apologizing for the inconvenience. We ask a passing nurse where we can buy coffee and she tells us the nearest machine is two floors up, so that’s where we head.
“I hate these damn machines.” Pamela starts punching buttons and the machine groans in protest.
“Here, let me help,” I offer, chuckling under my breath. Pamela’s not the most patient person when it comes to machinery. I push the button for the hot chocolate, handing hers before I take mine. It’s when I put the cup to my lips and look up that I spot Amy down the hall, her back to the wall and her eyes closed. I stand for a moment staring and I think she must sense eyes on her as she suddenly looks my way, immediately locking her eyes with mine. She offers a small smile, but I’m too busy frowning at the obvious bruise on her forehead to return the pleasantry. My gut twists, instantly thinking the worse.
Who did this to her?
“Are you okay?”
I’m so trained on Amy that I’m forgetting my manners. I turn, smiling toward a concerned Pamela. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. I just... do you mind waiting for me a moment? I need to speak to my friend over there.” I point to Amy. I know she’s not my friend, but Pamela doesn’t know that.
“Of course. I’ll go sit over there and wait for you.” She points to a seat a little farther down the hall.
“I won’t be long.”
She waves her hand in the air before offering to take my drink. “Take your time. I have lots of it.”
I smile, giving her my cup before sucking in a breath and making my way down the hall toward Amy. She’s pacing outside one of the doors, her bottom lip tucked under her top teeth.
“Amy... isn’t it?”
She stops her pacing, glancing up to look at me. My eyes travel immediately to the nasty bruise on her head. Again, my stomach twists.
Scozzari: Deviant #3 Page 9
