Discovering April

by Sheena Hutchinson

  “I know what that was, you know.” He flings his helmet over the railing to the porch.

  “What was what?”

  “That show you put on. You’re not fooling anyone!” He spins on his heels and glares at me.

  “It wasn’t like that—”

  “Save it!” he interrupts, putting his hand up to stop me before leaving me staring after him.

  His work boots stomp up the porch steps and through his front door. Closing my mouth, I turn and hop over the flowerbed. Before I shoulder my way through my front door, I turn back to the ‘scene of the crime,’ trying to figure out what just happened. Shaking my head, I slip inside. Maybe I’ll never know.

  An hour or so later, I’m sitting at my desk, trying to get a hold on my math homework when I find myself daydreaming about riding the motorcycle with Jared this morning. There’s something about it that calms me. I lean back slightly, risking a glance out my window into Jared’s. My shoulders slump when I notice his blinds are closed. Still insistent that I catch a glimpse of him, I sit up on my knees and he finally comes into view below me, packing away some tools into a bag. My math homework is the last thing on my mind as I watch him throw the bag over his shoulder and saunter towards the garage. I only have to wait a few more seconds before he comes back out and hops into his truck. The exhaust flares as he zips down the street and around the corner.

  I sigh, reluctant to get back to my homework. I wonder what Jared’s mood swings are about… is it something I did?

  “Ugh! Get a grip, April!” I scold myself, collapsing back into my chair. My mind zones out again as I stare at the infinity symbol in the problem in front of me. There’s something about it that speaks to me. Completely trying to procrastinate some more, I shake the mouse on my computer and search “Infinity Symbol.” I press the first link, which lists it as Eternity, empowerment, and everlasting love. Hmm, I like that. I like how it has no beginning and no end — it’s eternal. This discovery strikes something inside me.

  WITH MY EARLIER drama, I completely forgot that I agreed to go out with Ro… until she calls me. I try to blow her off, believe me, but there is something about that girl that you just can’t say no to. As I get dressed and pressed for my very first ‘girl’s night,’ I decide that with all the conflicting emotions I have flowing through me right now, I definitely could use a drink! So, that’s just what I do.

  Ro takes me to the college bar down the street from the University. I don’t even know if it has a name; it’s literally just referred to as ‘The Bar.’ I figure it’s safe, being Hunter usually just frequents frat parties. Ro seems to know everyone. She kisses the bouncer at the door on the cheek and we are ushered in without even getting our ID’s checked. I watch in awe as she saunters right up to the bar and provocatively leans over, kissing the bartender on the cheek in greeting before whispering in his ear and pointing to a booth by the front window.

  By the time she turns around again, she is ushering me over to the booth.

  I’m curious. “You come here often?”

  She shrugs. “This is one of my date places.”

  “Date places?”

  “You know, a safe place to meet people!”

  “No… I don’t think I do know,” I mutter, glancing around the dive bar filled with college students. A few of them I’ve seen on campus, but no one I’ve ever talked to and thankfully no one that knows Hunter.

  Before I can overthink things again, the bartender shows up and places a pitcher of what smells like pure tequila.

  “Yum! Thanks, Scottie!” She blows a kiss to the bartender’s retreating back before she begins to pour us two drinks. She sits back and I feel her eyes scan me up and down as she inspects me. “So, what is your story?”

  “Me? Oh… I don’t have a story.”

  “Everyone has a story. Give it to me straight!”

  “I… I don’t know. What’s your story?”

  “I’m going to school for fashion. I’m trying to get my grades up to transfer into FIT in the city. But it’s not really working too well because I’m slightly distracted by all the fresh meat around.” She slightly screams the last three words to attract attention. It seems to work. The guys at the table a few feet away glance over at us, and I’m pretty sure I catch her wink at one of them.

  “So I’ve noticed!” I roll my eyes and giggle.

  “So what about you?” She returns her full attention to me again.

  “I’m just doing general ed. right now. I don’t really have a major.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Ask away!” I take a gulp of margarita, mentally preparing.

  “Were you planning your life around Hunter? Is that why you feel so lost now?”

  “Whoa.” I almost choke as the ice gets stuck in my throat. When it finally melts, I cough once more. “Why can everyone see right through me, but I can’t notice it myself?”

  “Oh girl, it’s written all over your face.” She reaches out her hand and places it over mine.

  “It’s not like I planned this, I mean, maybe it all was subconscious, that I was waiting to see what we were doing… I don’t know.”

  “And now you feel lost without him,” she confirms. I look out the window to avoid her stare. “Well, I say fuck ‘um. All of them! Literally!” She winks at me.

  “Oh, no…”

  “They play us, why can’t we play them right back? Two can play at that game baby!” She lifts her cup up. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game—but hate it because I can play it twice as good as you!”

  After a fit of giggles, I clink my glass with hers. Not like I believe this philosophy, but because she makes me laugh. It feels good to laugh. Laughter is like the medicine my broken soul needs to heal again. So, I take it anywhere I can get it. Ro makes me laugh so I automatically like hanging out with her.

  Two hours and two more pitchers later, I’m still sitting in the sperm-infested booth across from Ro as she makes out with the guy from the table across from us. I begin to get a little weirded out when he starts making growling noises and I get the feeling I should leave these two alone. It was fun while it lasted, gossiping and talking about male idiosyncrasies, but now I think it’s time to leave. Stumbling out into the street, I try and hail a cab.

  “Hey, hun, I can give you a ride.”

  I awkwardly turn to notice a bald heavyset man making his way to me. He’s easily twice my age and he is coming up to me like he knows me.

  “No thanks, I’m good.” I expressively wave now to an empty street.

  “Come on, sugar pants, let me take you home,” he tells me, coming too close for comfort.

  My mind is blurry and my balance unstable, but I’m lucid enough to smell the alcohol on his breath, watch the evil thoughts play behind his eyes, and notice the creepy smile he flashes me. Now, I’ve never been the aggressive type, so I can only blame the words that come out of my mouth as coming straight from the tequila.

  “Listen, tool bag, come any closer to me and the only place you’re going is to the hospital!”

  His cheeks jiggle slightly as he laughs at me, thinking I’m joking. He has the gall to place his hand on my waist, lowering it slowly, testing my limits until he gets to my…

  Winding up, I let my right fist fly. Tubby topples over when he can’t handle my right hook. I reach into my purse and spray his eyes with a steady stream of mace. He lets out a noise I can only describe as a screech when I start into him.

  “Don’t you ever lay hands on a woman, you asshole!” I wave my trembling finger in his face for emphasis.

  Two hulk-sized bouncers grab me, pulling me away from the dramatic whale on the floor, still grabbing at his cheek. They shove me onto the hood of a car and when the police officers take over, they check my I.D, and then the highlight of my night— they strap me in handcuffs. I’m then corralled into the back seat of the police cruiser and the red and blue lights flash with our departure. The sway of the car is making me sick and
I have to lean my head against the glass to steady myself. The metal cuffs dig into the skin of my wrists, which are still awkwardly behind my back.

  “Can we open a window?” I mutter, trying desperately to calm my stomach.

  “Are you getting sick, Xena Warrior Princess?” The bald cop in the passenger side turns to ask me.

  “No, you just reek of old man aftershave,” I retort, swallowing back puke.

  The driver stifles a laugh as his partner continues, “Hmm, Are you drunk Ms. Landau?”

  “Are you stupid, Mr. Officer?”

  Mr. Driver flat out erupts into a fit of laughter in his partner’s face. Twisting my head so I can take them all in, the driver is obviously younger than his passenger partner. He has a full head of hair, his blue eyes gleaming with laughter, and his uniform looks freshly pressed. His partner, on the other hand, looks worn down, definitely borderline retirement age. There are donut remnants on his collar and, by the look of things, cold cases have taken all his hair.

  “Don’t mind him; he’s just mad he had to work tonight,” Officer Hot Stuff tells me.

  “Where’s the fat ass from the bar?” I ask as we turn into the station. My head lolls uncontrollably against the window.

  “That ‘fat ass’ said he wanted to press charges against you!” Baldy informs me.

  “PFHHH, are you kidding? I’m like half his size and my little punch knocked him on the floor? Uh, no, I think you got yourself an actor, buddy!”

  He smirks. “That may be so, but you did lay your hands on him.”

  “He laid his hands on me first!” I scream as they exit the vehicle. I vaguely hear footsteps before my door opens. I don’t realize my head is still against the window until I topple out of the car, face-first.

  “Hmm, surprising.”

  I look up from my awkward spot on the ground to lock eyes with Officer No-Hair before he disappears, leaving me with the cute driver. Hottie loops his arms under mine and lifts me right side up again. I take a deep breath, trying to get my stomach right before he guides me to the door. Guide is the wrong word; he’s pretty much carrying me. He places me on a bench in the high-ceilinged station house and props me up. My head is on the back of the wall and my hands fall through the bench space more comfortably. Satisfied with my position, he leaves me alone.

  Drunkenly, I watch as people come and go in a blur all around me. I just want to fall asleep but the racket around me makes that impossible. Finally, I see Officer Hot Pants coming through the doors.

  “Good news and bad news!” he hollers across the room.

  “Lay it on me.”

  “Well, Shamu decided not to press charges after I told him he’d have to sit in a court in front of a judge and explain to them that a little blonde girl punched him on his ass.”

  I smirk at the memory. “What’s the bad news?” I blink a few times, trying to get a stable look at this guy.

  “We can’t let you leave without a ride. You have to call someone to pick you up.”

  “But… I don’t have anyone,” I whisper as I feel the tears building up.

  “Call someone for a ride; otherwise you have to sober up here in a cell. It’s procedure.” He comes to sit on the bench beside me.

  “Okay,” I mutter, reaching my hand out. “Gimme your phone.”

  “Uh, no you have to use the station phone.”

  “What’s the difference? They pay both bills, Give. Me. Your. Phone. Officer!” I enunciate every syllable of the last sentence.

  He smirks before un-cuffing me. Pulling his phone out, he hands it to me. I punch the buttons to the house number my drunken mind somehow remembers from my childhood. I hope it’s still the same. I pray as it begins to ring.

  “Fingers crossed,” I mutter with the phone against my ear.

  He answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Don’t hang up!” I scream, maybe a little too loud. I place my hand to cover my mouth over the phone. “I know you hate me right now, but can you pick me up?” I hiccup.

  “Where are you?” His tone is serious.

  “The police station.”

  I hear the dial tone as he hangs up on me. Was that a yes?

  I turn to the officer, handing him back his phone.

  “Someone’s coming?” he asks.

  My face scrunches. “I don’t know.”

  He laughs at my nonchalance.

  “So, Mr. Officer, what is your name?”

  “Officer Smith,” he replies, leaning over to place his phone back in his pants pocket.

  “I asked your name, not your rank, sir.”

  “John. John Smith.” He smiles at me, and it takes me a few extra seconds to process this before I break into hysterical giggles.

  “Well, slap my ass and call me Pocahontas! Your parents were real original, weren’t they?” I holler and it echoes throughout the entire precinct.

  A few officers look up curiously from their desks to watch our interaction, but Officer Smith never takes his eyes from mine.

  “Are you usually this funny or are you just inebriated?”

  “Who says I’m inebriated!” I gasp dramatically.

  “Hmm, maybe the margarita on your breath, or the fact that your eyeballs can’t stay in one place for two seconds. And then there’s the fact that you haven’t been able to keep your head up on your own since we picked you up.”

  “Well, Sherlock…” I pause, processing my next words. “You caught me!” I shake my index finger in his face. “What’s next? The jigsaw killer? The war on terrorism?”

  John Smith laughs at me. “You really are something, April Landau. You know that?”

  I pause for a second and things begin to clear up slightly. I notice his eyes looking into mine and I slowly blink back at him.

  Suddenly, I jump as the doors burst open. Jared scans the floor, looking for me. When his eyes lock on me sitting next to the officer, he tries to calmly walk over, but I can see the panic behind his eyes, even with my blurry vision.

  “Officer.” He nods in acknowledgement. “Is she in trouble?” I see his eyes scan the space between us on the bench.

  “Nah, she’s free to go. Just need you to sign her out.” They both leave me on the bench alone as they head over to a desk.

  I’m just starting to close my eyes when they both reappear. “Your girlfriend here is really something, Mr. Hoffman. Take care of her.”

  My eyes fly open at those words. Jared’s mouth is open but no response comes.

  “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend. We just have donuts!” I mutter, climbing up from my seat. Jared bites his lip to keep back the laughter.

  “Donuts? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Officer Smith has laughter behind his blue eyes.

  “It’s been a pleasure, John Smith. Until next time!” I drunkenly curtsy to him before Jared pulls my arm.

  Officer Smith’s eyes never leave mine as we exit the station and step outside. We take three steps before Jared releases my arm and swings around to face me head on.

  “What is going on with you, April?” he stops right in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders to steady me. I shrug, trying to shake out of his grasp. “You get trashed and punched a full grown man. What if he—”

  “Okay, first of all that jerk tried to touch me! Second of all, I’m a college student. I’m supposed to be drunk!” I scream, throwing my hands up before locking eyes with Jared.

  A part of me can’t believe he came. I thought he hated me. Maybe a part of him likes me, too. Without warning I lean forward and place my lips to his. His hands on my shoulders tighten before he jerks me back. I glare back at him; did he just turn me down? What the hell! Rage burns inside me and I’m debating punching him too, when suddenly I begin to feel my whole face turn green. I tumble away just in time to hide my face before all my drinks from earlier come back up into the bushes outside the station steps. When I feel like there is nothing left inside me, I collapse to my knees and feel Jared’s arms wr
ap around me. He picks me up and I hear a door slam shut.

  MY HEAD IS STILL pounding when my eyes flutter open the next day. My brain is throbbing inside my skull and I punch the pillow underneath me, scaring Jinx out of his slumber. He meows in protest before hopping off the bed. Looking around, I’m in my bed. How did I get here? I groan in pain as I prop my pillows up and lean my head back against them. It’s then that I feel the eyes on me. Tilting my head straight again, I glance out my window. My eyes lock with those big brown eyes of Jared’s across the way. He looks down to his phone and back up again. My phone chimes with an incoming text.

  “UGHHH!” I moan, blindly reaching for it. It slips a few times before I grasp it between my fingers and look down to read.

  How are you feeling?

  Closing one eye, I text back, Like someone ran over me with a truck, then backed up and ran me over again.

  Lowering my phone, I watch as he smiles from my text and disappears from view. I’m trying to piece last night back together; it’s like a fragmented mirror that has shattered all over the corners of my mind. I remember laughing with Ro about her sexual conquests and then I remember red and blue lights and… Jared. Starting to feel hot, I throw the covers off of me and lay like a starfish, trying to get my mind to focus. Glancing down, I notice I’m wearing my pajamas. Before I can process any further, the door to my room creaks open. Jared walks in with a cup of water and a closed fist.

  “How did you get in?!” I yelp, trying to sit up in bed, and pulling the covers back over my braless tank top.

  “I left the back door open when I left last night,” he informs me as he opens his fist to show me he brought a hand full of Advil.

  “You brought me home last night?” I rub my head before reaching for the pills and water.

  “Yup, after you called me to pick you up from the police station.”

  “I WAS WHERE?!” I scream as water comes spraying out of my mouth.

  “Police station. Apparently, you popped a guy in the face.” He smirks.

  I squint my eyes, vaguely remembering the heavyset guy that tried grabbing my ass in front of the bar.