The Broken Road to Forever

by Rhonda Dennis

  “No, I’m not.” He stands up to spin off the cap of the last beer from the now empty six pack.

  “Are you in a bad mood because of Tiffany?” He puts down his beer to stare at me.

  “I like sober Mallory better. She’s quiet and easy to intimidate.”

  “Well, she’s gone, but I can take a message if you’d like.”

  “No need. Both Mallory’s will be leaving my room very shortly…”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Talking about things makes them better. Don’t you remember that night in the theater?” He turns to stare me down. “Oh shit. I dreamed it, didn’t I?”

  His scowl once again softens into a smile. “No, you didn’t imagine it, and you’ve been true to your word. You’ve never told anyone about it.”

  “Of course I didn’t. You asked me not to tell, so I didn’t. I haven’t told about anything we’ve ever discussed.”

  “Yeah, well there are a lot of people who don’t honor their word.”

  “Like Tiffany?”

  “Fuck, Mallory. You’re relentless. Yes, okay? People like Tiffany.”

  “Because she cheated on you when she’s supposed to be yours. You gave your heart to her, and she stomped on it, Brent.” My words are melodramatic, and I even smash my foot against the floor for emphasis. “Stomped it. Broke it. Shattered it. She should be tortured.”

  “Whoa now. I never gave her my heart; she was just someone to have fun with, and damn. I thought I had a dark side. She most definitely doesn’t need to be tortured. She did me a favor. I was going to break up with her anyway.”

  I clasp my hands over my heart. “Oh, my, my, my. Bless your poor soul. Fiddle dee dee, I say. You’re far better off without her.”

  “Are we going antebellum now?” He laughs heartily.

  “Oh. Yeah. I might have drank too much. Drank too much or drunk too much? Drinked too much? No. That’s definitely not right, is it?” I lie back on his bed to think it over, but I become obsessed with the slow moving blades of the ceiling fan above me. The silence in the room remains as Brent reclines to lie beside me, and after he takes my hand in his, I turn to look at him for a half a second before reverting my attention back to the fan.

  “I should be braver, Mallory.”

  “What? You’re probably the bravest person I know.”

  “Not where my dad is concerned.”

  “What do you mean? Does he hurt you, Brent?”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking, but yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  He swallows hard. “He gives as long as he gets what he wants. If I oppose him, I lose everything.”

  “Like?”

  “What are you asking?”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Football, for one. I have no choice but to play, and if I want to keep my truck, I need to keep my stats up.”

  “So who cares if you don’t have a truck. I ride the bus, and I’m okay.”

  Brent gives me a look. “Yeah. I’ll ride the bus. Not.”

  “There is nothing wrong with riding the bus.”

  “Oh, okay,” he says only to appease me.

  “What else?”

  “What I wear. How I carry myself. What I do. The foods I eat. The college I will attend. What I will choose as a major. The girls I date. All of it. Every single bit of my life is dictated by him.”

  “Are the material things worth selling your soul to him, Brent? That’s basically what you’re doing.”

  “There’s no way I can support myself. That’s the alternative. He knows I can’t do it, so it’s best for me to just go along with it. He’s going to be pissed about Tiffany, so I’ll need to find a suitable replacement.”

  “Why does he care who you date?”

  “She needs to meet his criteria. Good family with money, somewhat hot arm candy, preferably a cheerleader. It looks good.” I’m genuinely sad for him. He has all the money in the world and is more imprisoned as a slave to sadness than I have ever been. I’ve felt sorry for myself many times, but I always have the support of my mom to pick me up. Brent is all alone because none of his relationships are built on love.

  “If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?”

  He rolls onto his side to look at me. “I’ve been thinking that maybe I’d quit playing football and coach instead.”

  “That’s admirable.”

  “Ah, hell. I say I’d quit playing football, but I really do love it. Maybe I haven’t thought about it that much.” My buzz is slowly wearing off, and it’s being replaced by an intense desire to comfort Brent. He’s so misunderstood, and I want to fix him.

  “Stop it. I know that look,” he says, giving me an apprehensive gaze.

  “What look?”

  “You can’t fix this, Mallory. It is what it is, and that’s how it has to stay.”

  I look away, mostly because I’m scared a rogue tear might slip by because his words are painful to hear.

  “Share some more with me.”

  “Why? It’s pointless.”

  “Because you deserve to be heard, even if it’s only by me. What would you drive?”

  “A Mustang.”

  “What would you wear?”

  “T-shirts and jeans only.”

  “What would you eat?”

  “What wouldn’t I eat?”

  I giggle. “Who would you date?”

  “You.” This time I full-on laugh.

  “Good one. Seriously, who? I’m curious to know your type. It can be a movie star or singer if you want.”

  He stares at me, his face expressionless. I stop laughing. “But I’m Triple P. Fat Mallory.”

  Reaching out with his fingers, he pushes my bangs off my cheek. “Triple P.”

  “Yes, Princess Poopie Pants, which I still want to strangle you for. Seriously, it happened in freaking kindergarten. Shouldn’t we be past it by now?”

  “No, Mallory. Triple P: pretty, precious, and…”

  “Portly?” I interrupt, sitting up.

  “Stop it. Aren’t you listening to me? Mallory, to me you’re perfect.”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No, I’m not. I mean you’re okay to me when we’re alone, but you get so mean whenever another…” He hangs his head, but my face brightens.

  “Are you jealous of the two guys who actually talk to me, because there’s no need. Seriously. No one thinks of me as anything other than sweet, fat, quiet Mallory.”

  “I think you underestimate your beauty, Mallory.” I shake my head.

  “No. No one has ever been interested in me that way, and I’m not sure why you’re saying you are, but I know it’s not possible. You had Tiffany as a girlfriend. She’s perfect.”

  “No, she’s a shallow bitch, and I’m glad it’s over. It doesn’t matter how I feel. Nothing could ever happen between you and me anyway.”

  “Because I don’t meet your dad’s criteria,” I say sadly. Brent stares down to the floor. Emotions overwhelm me because I’m still semi-inebriated while ingesting a load of information that goes against everything I’ve ever thought of myself and those around me. Brent is popular, rich, athletic, attractive, and he is interested in me. ME! None of it’s relevant though. He’s in no position to go against his father. The point is moot. My prince could very well be sitting beside me, and I can never be his princess. Well, this is depressing. I hang my head, too, and with Brent still holding my hand, we lie back on his bed in silence.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” Brent says. I drop his hand and move to look out of the window. Howard, wearing only a pair of plaid boxers while perched atop a brick column, waves off a group of swimmers before leaping into the lighted pool. It takes him a while to surface, and once he does, it’s ass crack city when he jumps out and beats on his chest Tarzan-style. Brent stands behind me. “Missing your boyfriend?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. He was just my date, and well…” Brent guides me away from th
e window. “I’m glad you told me. I feel really bad about myself most days, and just knowing that you would consider being with me under different circumstances makes me feel better about myself.”

  “My dad is in Texas until tomorrow night. I can’t promise you anything more than this, but I’d like it if we...” I launch myself against him, sending him stumbling back against the bed, where I topple over on top of him. Our lips remain locked as my renewed confidence continues to soar thanks to Brent’s ego boost and the overabundance of Jungle Juice. Brent gently rolls me to the side. “Hold that thought,” he says, jumping out of bed to lock the door, grab something from the bathroom, then turn out the bedroom lights. A soft glow comes in from the pool area below us, offering only enough illumination for us to appear to each other as silhouettes. He turns on his radio, and though it’s far from a love song that plays, it does nothing to dampen the mood. It’s pounding beat only intensifies it.

  He slips off his shirt, and I’m awestruck by the broadness of his shoulders. Next, he fumbles with his belt, and his pants are on the floor. My heart thunders in my chest as he slides next to me in the bed. This is really happening. I’m excited, scared out of my mind, and mostly overwhelmed. He runs his fingers over my hip, up my waist, and rests his cupped palm over my breast.

  “I’ve never done this before,” I confess after he breaks a tender kiss.

  “You still haven’t lost your virginity?” he asks.

  “No, I haven’t.” My answer is heavy with embarrassment.

  “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I’ll turn on the lights, and we can go downstairs…”

  “I don’t want to be a virgin anymore.”

  Brent touches my face. “It’s a big step, Mallory. One that should probably be left for someone who can give you the relationship you deserve.”

  “I want it to be you, Brent. I’ve had feelings for you for a while, but I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that you’d be interested.”

  “I’m sorry that I hurt you, and I’m even sorrier that I’ll have to watch you go on with your life without me.” My breath catches.

  “But I don’t understand. Why me? I’m nobody.” He drops his forehead to rest against mine.

  “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” My heart is so full of emotion that I want to cry. How can it be that I’ve found someone who gets me and wants me, but can never be mine?

  “I hate that I’m fat and poor.”

  “Don’t. Don’t say that, and don’t think it would change things if you were one of those girls my dad deems acceptable. I’d never subject you to a life that involves this sick and twisted family.”

  “What if we wait until after graduation? We’ll be adults, and then…”

  “I’m being forced to play college ball. He’s already sealed the deal with the coach.”

  “Okay, so after college?”

  “That’s at least five years, Mallory. Trust me when I say you don’t want to be part of this. He’ll make our lives hell, even if I break away from him. He’s a powerful man with lots of connections.”

  I feel like I can’t breathe. The thing I’ve wanted most in my life is dangled in front of me for a split second, then ripped away just as quickly. “It’s not fair, but I understand. I sort of wish I was still clueless about all of this, and you were just the mean asshole I thought you were.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you. I was weak; you barged in here, and I’ve been drinking, and you were so close I could smell the sweetness of your shampoo, and…”

  “You’re killing me, Brent.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel every time I look at you knowing I can’t have you. We can’t be together, but I want you to know that you’re always on my mind.” He props up on his elbow. “Listen, whenever you see me rubbing my lips with the back of my hand, that’s my signal to you that I’m thinking of you. I’ll be remembering how amazingly soft your lips are against mine.” His kiss starts off sweet and tender, but quickly becomes hard and passionate. He slides his hand underneath my shirt, and his touch leaves a trail of tingles. Feeling empowered and brazen, I reach down to cup him, and he sucks in a hard breath. My touch has the same effect on him as his has on me. I explore the muscles of his back, shoulders, and arms with my fingers when he rolls to be on top of me.

  “Are you sure, Mallory? You don’t have to do this. I really think you should save yourself. This is going to change things between us forever.”

  “Things are already changed between us forever.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” I touch his face.

  “I fully understand the consequences of this. Once this night is over, it’s over. You’ll continue dating snotty cheerleaders, and I’ll be stuck behind the counter at the movie theater. It’s what you have to do to survive. I can’t fault you for it, Brent. You can give me one magical night, though.”

  “Mallory,” he whispers against my neck.

  “Brent, I…”

  “I can’t. I won’t fuck you and leave you.”

  “Brent…”

  “Don’t try to change my mind, Mallory. It isn’t right.”

  “But Brent…” I throw him off me and yowl with pain when my toe connects with the corner of his desk while on my way to the bathroom. The pain makes me want to pass out, but it’s the bubbling in my stomach that sends me to my knees. I miss the toilet completely, and puke splatters all over Brent’s bathroom floor.

  “Mallory!”

  “Don’t turn on the light!” I plead through tears. Another round of retching happens, and I’m mortified.

  “I have to turn on the light to see if you’re okay. Whoa!” In his rush to check on me, Brent missed the fact that I had vomited all over the floor, and sliding across it much like an ice skater, he fights for balance before being catapulted into the bathtub. He lands with a solid thud, still holding the chain from the ceiling fan light in his hand.

  “No!” I shout, nearly in tears from the embarrassment.

  “Fucking Nate’s Jungle Juice,” Brent says. I refuse to look anywhere but at the hinges of the toilet seat. Maybe if I’m really quiet and don’t move, he’ll just go away. Better yet, maybe this is all a nightmare, and I’ll wake up soon. Several seconds go by while I mentally debate what I should do.

  “Mallory…”

  “I’ll clean it all up.” My stare is still firmly fixed on the hinges.

  “Mallory…”

  “Can we please, please, pretty please pretend this never happened?”

  “Mallory…” I finally shift my gaze from the hinges to the wall behind the toilet.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think you could hand me a towel?” I turn around to find one hanging on the wall across from Brent, and I’m about to say something when I notice he’s holding his head, crimson fluid oozing between his fingers and down his arm. My eyes widen.

  “Oh no. Oh gosh! Brent!” I stand too quickly, and the instant dizziness and pain from my foot sends me back to the floor.

  “Shhhh. Don’t panic. I’m fine. It’s just a little gash, I’m sure. Take your time.”

  “I feel terrible. Brent! Should I call an ambulance?”

  He laughs heartily. “No way. I just need a towel.” I stretch out to grab a fresh one, then toss it into the tub with him. Once he has it secured over his wound, he slowly stands. I do the same, hobbling slightly to make my way over to him.

  “What can I do to help?” I ask.

  “Look at your toe. Ouch.”

  “It’ll be okay. We need to get your head looked at.”

  “No. It’s fine. Trust me; I’ve had to deal with much worse. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do, if you’re done puking.” He pauses until I nod to say I’m finished. “I have some medical supplies in the cabinet over there. You’ll help me patch myself up, then I’ll tape up your toe for you. After that, we’ll work on cleaning the puke pile together because it stinks and it’s making me want to blow chunks, too.”<
br />
  I don’t know whether I should laugh or cry, but I’m happy to have some direction. Everything happens as he suggested, and afterwards, we’re left sitting on the edge of his bed taking it all in.

  “Tonight sucked, but I’m glad it happened,” I say, staring down at my taped toe.

  “Yeah, me too.” Brent sighs. “I guess I should go down and make an appearance, or at the very least, make sure the rest of the house is still standing.”

  “I wonder if Howard’s still down there?”

  “Do you like him?”

  “He’s okay. Kind of annoying.” Brent nods to second my opinion. “He’ll never be you. No one will ever be you.”

  Brent gives me a slight smile before softly rubbing his lips with the back of his hand. I put my hands over my heart, then blow him a kiss before opening the door. “See you downstairs?”

  “Absolutely, my Triple P.”

  SIX

  Freshman Year

  Bayou Cypress University

  College is so much different from high school. True to his word, Brent gives me his “secret signal” during every high school football game, and continues to do so at the college games. My heart pitter-patters when his lips touch the back of his hand, and though we’ve only had a few random stolen kisses in between a steady flow of his picture perfect girlfriends, nothing further has happened with our relationship. I can’t say the same for my feelings; they have continued to grow, which makes things extremely difficult. Life would be so much simpler if he weren’t trapped in the sick and twisted web his father has woven. He feels the same, and I know it. Not because he’s told me, but because I see it in his eyes. He’s not truly happy, and it shows whenever our paths cross.

  The fact that he, Nate, and I all end up with scholarships to the same prestigious university adds an extra level to my heartache. I’d secretly hoped to get away from him once college started because I figured distance might make things easier. However, because of Nate’s and Brent’s football skills and my high GPA and test scores, getting full ride scholarships is pretty easy for us. Admission to the college is extremely selective and sought after, so we’d have been fools not to attend.