Becoming More

by Lane, Bayli

  “Sander, thank god you answered!” I yell into the phone. “Lauren is high. I can’t tell if she’s overdosed or if it’s normal. But she looks bad,” I say quickly as a tear runs down my cheek, and I watch Lauren lie down on her bed and fling her arm off the side.

  “Lilly, calm down,” he says, “Is she puking?”

  I run over to her and open her mouth. “No. She seems to be sleeping.”

  “Wake her up,” he says.

  I shake her shoulders. I’m on the verge of slapping her as hard as I can when her eyes finally open. Oh God. Oh God. “Lauren, you have to stay awake,” I say to her. “Sit up.” I help pull her up.

  “I’m tired,” she mumbles.

  “She’s not having a seizure or anything is she?” Sander continues.

  “No,” I say shortly as I wrap my arm around Lauren’s shoulders to hold her against me.

  “I think she’s just high, baby. But I’ll come over there and make sure she’s okay,” he says.

  “Please, hurry,” I beg.

  “On my way, don’t let her fall asleep.”

  “Okay, bye,” I say swiftly and hang up.

  Sander doesn’t live far away, so I’m not surprised when there is knocking on the door. “It’s unlocked!” I yell.

  Sander struts in. It’s obvious he hasn’t shaved in days. Dark, black hair prickles from his cheeks, chin, and under his nose. His eyes are only tinged a light pink which could easily be from staying up late and studying. I don’t think he’s high, because he seems to be in control. I’m still surprised, because he’s usually more put together than he is right now. Usually he’d be in his typical jeans and polo, and freshly shaven. But that’s not how he looks at all. He’s wearing baggy sweat pants, a t-shirt, and his facial hair is noticeably longer.

  He still walks confidently over to me, just like my Sander always has. He places a kiss on my cheek and then faces Lauren. He pushes down her lower eyelids. I’m not sure what he’s looking for. Then he places two fingers against her throat, checking her pulse.

  “She’s okay.” Then he speaks to Lauren, “You can go to sleep if you want.”

  “Wait-” I start.

  “I didn’t want her to sleep before because she could have went into a coma if she had overdosed, but she didn’t. It’s probably best if she passes out.”

  I stand up from her bed. “Can you pick her up so that I can pull her blankets back?”

  He slides his left arm under her knees and his right arm under her back and lifts her easily. Lauren’s head rolls onto his shoulder. Her eyes flicker open and she gazes up at him adoringly. She’s evidently thankful she didn’t have to stand up on her own. Her eyes close as I pull her blanket and sheet back.

  Sander places her on the bed, and I pull the covers up over her and tuck them around her sides to hold her in. Immediately she begins to breathe deeper, sleeping. I sigh and wipe away the strands of hair sticking to my forehead and cheeks.

  “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t answered,” I say to Sander as I watch Lauren nervously.

  “You have to know that if you need me, I’m here,” Sander says maneuvering himself closer to me. He gets in my line of sight, so I can no longer see Lauren and instead have Sander’s scruffy faced in front of me.

  I lift my hand to his cheek and run my palms across his stubble. “I’ve never seen you with hair on your face.” I smile weakly, exhausted from the night; Colton, Lauren, and Sander… It’s too much for one night. “I like it.”

  He places his hand over mine, the one that’s on his cheek. “You know I’m here for you?” he repeats.

  I shake my head and pull my arm back and away from his touch, not out of anger, but out of uncertainty. “I know that you used to be. I’m not so sure if you still are or not.” I look into his dark brown eyes with sparks of gold in them. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

  “You’re my girl,” he says earnestly. “I messed up, baby, I know.” His lips lightly press against mine. “But, I love you,” he proclaims.

  “I love you too,” I answer quickly and with no thought. My words shock me. I didn’t even mean to say it, but the response has become so ingrained in me that the words escape easily.

  With a wicked smile, Sander enfolds his arms around my neck and pulls me to his chest. “Good. Now that that is out of the way, why don’t you give me a kiss?”

  The image of Colton and me kissing flashes through my mind. Remorse courses through me. At first, it seems wrong to stand here next to Sander and consider kissing him. Then I remember Colton with the girl I will forever refer to as ‘pixie bitch.’ So why shouldn’t I kiss Sander? Colton is, ten to one, kissing another girl anyway.

  I stretch up on my toes and kiss Sander. My body doesn’t sing with the touch, my heart doesn’t warm, my cheeks don’t heat, my body doesn’t really respond like it used to, and I know why. Somehow I forgot why I ran off to Colton’s house tonight to begin with! Getting physically close with Colton and then stressing and worrying about Lauren put what Sander did to the very back of my mind.

  I slam my fists into Sander’s chest and shove him roughly. He’s still trying to kiss me, but I’m persistent. He finally lifts his arms and backs up.

  “Woah,” Sander says with his arms still held out in front of him to ward me off. “What’s going on?”

  “You cheated on me!” I yell and stomp towards him.

  His face slumps and his mouth hangs open. His arms drop from in front of him and now dangle loosely at his sides. He chews over what I just said. “No I didn’t,” he says easily.

  I raise an eyebrow as my breathing increases. “Yeah, okay Sander. I’m sure there was another Sander making out with some girl at the frat house and then taking her back to an empty room!”

  “I literally have no idea what you are talking about,” Sander says incredulously.

  “We’ve been together for four years! Four years, Sander! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Was it because you were high? Was it because you were drunk?” I ask, begging for an answer that will ease the sickness in my soul. “Please tell me you didn’t realize what you were doing? That you thought you were with me? Tell me anything, just don’t lie to me and tell me it never happened.” I wipe my eyes and then look back up at him. “Do you love any of these other women? Was it worth it, Sander?! Was it?! You just threw away four damn years!” I explode. I feel like I’m falling apart. It’s contradictory the way I want to punch him over and over again, but also want to fall into the ground and hide.

  “I did not cheat on you,” Sander says after a brief silence. “I would never throw away what we have. Do you hear me?” he asks.

  I just stare at him. I want to believe him, but how can I after hearing those girls in the bathroom talking about him escorting a girl back to a room after being tongue tied with her for who-knows-how-long.

  “Lilly,” he begins, “I swear to God, I would never to do that to you. I love you. I don’t know where you heard this shit from, but it’s not true. They’re just jealous baby; they are just trying to tear us apart.”

  “Why would they do that?” I say, enraged. “They don’t even know me, Sander.”

  “Because they probably know me or at least of me.” He steps forward. “I’m always at the frat. If they are ever there, then they know who I am. Maybe they are jealous of us. That’s the only reason I can find why someone would tell you I cheated.” He shakes his head.

  I laugh humorlessly. “You think they want you? Is that it?” I fold my arms around my stomach. “They didn’t know I could hear them. Explain that,” I say.

  “Maybe you just didn’t think they knew you were there, but they actually did.” He shrugs his shoulders.

  He seems to have an answer for everything. I step closer to him. So close that I can smell the soap from his shower and his strong deodorant. “Sander, I want the truth. This is your last chance to come completely clean if something did happen. Maybe we can work it out, okay? But I need
you to be truthful with me,” I say steadily.

  He takes a deep breath and then presses his lips to my forehead. “I did not and will never cheat on you,” he breathes out.

  “Okay,” I mutter.

  “Okay?” he asks.

  “I’m going to take a leap of faith and trust you. I don’t know the girls. I know you and I want to believe you never cheated on me when we were together.”

  “What do you mean when we were together?” Sander asks.

  I roll my eyes. “You know exactly what I mean. We’re on a break. We’ve talked about this,” I say.

  His eyes glare and lips pinch together. “I still think it’s bullshit,” he says.

  “Yeah, well I’m still trying to trust you, so we’re on a break.” And I just made out with Colton. So there is no way I’m going to call Sander my boyfriend or that would make me a cheater. I’m certainly not going to tell Sander about that. No freakin’ way.

  As I remember what happened today, I begin with Sander being there when I needed him and how it reminds me of all the times in the past he has been there for me. It makes it nearly impossible to not forgive him for his recent transgressions. If he hadn’t answered his phone, I most likely would have called an ambulance and gotten Lauren in a great deal of trouble. I was so close to having a serious anxiety attack. When he told me Lauren was going to be okay, I believed him. I relaxed monumentally. Then when he said he would come over to make sure, I was shocked. He has been so busy partying with Bryan or with other guys in the frat that I never imagined he would actually put them on pause and come to me. I was slowly becoming accustomed to taking the backseat when it came to Sander. But this time it was like I had called out ‘shotgun,’ and he listened.

  I refuse to allow myself to feel guilty over the time I spent with Colton. We had fun, and it didn’t mean anything. He was going to be with other girls, so I could be with Sander too. Plus, since Sander and I were on a break, the rules were kind of blurred. Technically, I could kiss Colton anytime I wanted to and it wouldn’t be cheating. Though I would be pissed if I found out Sander was kissing someone else. Yeah, I’m hypocritical.

  “Lilly, we need to make more time for each other. I know that I haven’t been seeing you as much as I should. I know that this is all my fault, but the only way I can prove that I’m back to being the old me is for you and me to be together like we always were before,” Sander says.

  I nod. “I think you’re right.” And I do. How am I supposed to understand my feelings towards him if I’m never around him? How am I supposed to know if I’m still in love with him, and if he’s back to being my Sander? “But tonight I am exhausted. I need some sleep.” I yawn and pull my hair up into a ponytail. I look over at Lauren who has begun to snore and already have no idea how I am going to handle that talk tomorrow.

  Sympathetically he hugs me and kisses my cheek. He’s more loving and tender today than he has been since we moved here. I forgot how comforting these small gestures could be. It reminds me of being home, makes me reminiscent of high school and our undying love for one another.

  “Call me tomorrow?” he asks. “And don’t worry, Lauren will be fine.”

  I shake my head. “No, she won’t. She’s doing drugs. Look at her, Sander. She looks sick.”

  Sander doesn’t argue with me like I expect him too. Instead he just whispers a quiet agreement, hugs me, and walks to the door. “I’d like to see you tomorrow—right after classes. I love you.”

  This time I hold back my automatic response to tell him, “I love you too.” Instead, I smile and walk over to drawers of clothes to search for some pajamas. I hear the door click shut. I guess I’ll see him tomorrow.

  My phone buzzes as I slip on a pair of shorts. I grab it and find a text from Colton:

  Colton: Where did u go?

  Me: I headed home.

  A few minutes later…

  Colton: Why didnt u say bye b4 u left?

  Me: U were busy.

  I have another missed text from Clarissa.

  Clarissa: Colton keeps askin where u went.

  Me: im home. I txtd him back already.

  Clarissa: R u tryin to make him mad?

  Me: Y would he be mad? I’m tired. I wanted to come home.

  Clarissa: U suck at lying. Night. :)

  Me: Night.

  Ignoring the ping of my phone alerting me of another text that I’m sure came from Colton, I tuck myself into bed and fade into a restless night of sleep.

  When I wake up, I find Lauren still passed out in her bed. Her legs are twisted wildly in the blankets, her mouth hanging open, and her hair looks like it has a gallon of bacon grease poured over it. It’s unbelievably disgusting. I’ve never seen Lauren look so foul. Her breath is raunchy I can smell it from across the room. When was the last time she took a shower? Brushed her teeth? Ate something?

  Today, before class, I’m going to shove her into a shower until I smell the bubbly citrus soap wafting from behind the curtains. Talking to her about her drug use will have to wait until the stench is gone. No one could actually converse under these conditions. I can almost taste the smell of her.

  I tiptoe over to her bed and shove her shoulder. “Lauren,” I say. She doesn’t stir. “Lauren!” I say louder. Her eyes flicker open. “Get up,” I say again so she doesn’t close them. She groans and sits up slowly.

  “What?” she hisses between her teeth.

  I glare at her. “What is wrong with you?” I say through clenched teeth. “No, don’t answer that. First, you need a shower. You reek.”

  She fills her cheeks with air and then slowly lets it out. “Fine,” she says evenly. I expected a fight. Maybe she can tell that she’s in major need of some scrubbing. She grabs her shower bag and a towel and heads to the bathroom. I follow her, because I don’t want her to disappear without me getting to find out what is going on.

  Back in our room, she sits on her bed and I sit on mine. We face each other and watch one another like we’re having a staring contest. I continue to see images from last night of Lauren and how scared she was that I was going to tell someone that she was on drugs, how she got nervous every time there was a noise. I remember the feeling that something was terribly wrong with her and having no clue what to do. It sickens me that I haven’t seen her in about a week, and she’s most likely been out doing drugs with shady people and could have seriously been hurt, or worse. I wouldn’t have known what happened to her or where to find her.

  “Where have you been all week?” I ask and begin to rub my neck nervously. This conversation is going to be like pulling teeth.

  “Nowhere,” she answers.

  I roll my eyes and sit up straighter, looking more serious. “Lauren you haven’t been home in a week. When you did text me back it was just one word, and you look like a complete wreck. Have you showered at all this past week? Have you slept?”

  She folds her arms in her lap. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not! What’s going on?” I yell at her.

  “Lilly, chill. I’m home, okay?” she says.

  “No. I want you to tell me why you disappeared for a week and why you started doing drugs!” I say quickly. “I thought you were going to die last night! I didn’t know if you had overdosed or anything!”

  This time she rolls her eyes and lets out a chuckle. “You’re ridiculous. Of course I didn’t overdose; I was just high.”

  “Why is it funny that I thought you might die?” I frown. “How am I supposed to know what’s normal for someone who’s on drugs?” I question.

  “Maybe step out of your little bubble and you might learn a few things.” She laughs again. “I swear, Lilly, you can be so immature.”

  “Oh yeah, Lauren.” I throw my hands up, exasperated. “I’m immature because I don’t do drugs or really know anything about them,” I say sarcastically. “Do you even hear yourself? You sound like an idiot.”

  “Well you sound boring,” she says half-heartedl
y. “I mean, you have like no friends…” She laughs and then falls back onto her bed. “Oh, I forgot you have Colton,” she bites out. “And that Clarissa chick he fucks.”

  “Okay,” I puff out. “I don’t know why you are being such a… bitch-” I say. “Maybe it’s the drugs? Who knows, but I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me why you decided to get high.” I look at her unwaveringly so she knows I’m not moving. “The Lauren I know would never do drugs, because she doesn’t need them to have fun.”

  She barks laughter. “Lilly, when are you going to learn that people change?” She shakes her head. “The old Lauren isn’t here anymore! This is me! And this Lauren wanted to go get high, so she did. She wanted to not be near you for a week, so she wasn’t. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want… So I do. This Lauren did drugs, and this Lauren will probably do them again. This Lauren is tired of Lilly acting like she’s better than everyone else! You really think you are better than me because you haven’t tried drugs? Well I think you are a stuck up bitch that doesn’t know how to let loose. You don’t know how to have fun and then you judge other people who do,” she says it so calmly that I can’t help but flinch.

  I stare at her, wide eyed, hurt, and contemplating. It seems like she means every single word that she has said, but how can I be sure this is Lauren really talking? “Lauren, I love you,” I say solemnly. “You’re my best friend. I want you to be happy and to have fun; I just don’t want to watch you hurt yourself.”

  “Then don’t watch,” she says.

  “Is that really what you want? You want me to stop caring about what happens to you? You don’t want my help?” I ask, yearning for her to beg me for help, to tell me that I’m her best friend, too. But it doesn’t matter how hard I wish for it, this Lauren doesn’t want my friendship.

  “See!” she yells. “You think everyone needs your damn help! I don’t need your help Lilly!” She stands and grabs her purse. “Don’t wait up for me,” she says and throws open our door and leaves.

  Again, I don’t know where she’s going, and I don’t know when I’ll see her next. The stomach churning lump grows with the image of the way Lauren looked last night—only this time, in my head, she’s having seizures and throwing up and no one is there to help her.