Test (A Gentry Generations Story)

by Cora Brent

  “Need you so fucking much,” he slurred, kissing me again, then sucking on my neck while he reached between my legs, making it obvious what he had in mind.

  And I wanted it. I was crazy excited by the feel of his lips on my neck and his hands inside my panties. So what if he was a little buzzed? He was still Derek, my Derek, the guy I thought about constantly and wanted so badly and was completely falling in love with. I didn’t care that we were going to scrap our plans to make this first time special, that instead we were just going to fuck against a filthy stone wall in the park while a concert carried on in the background. I just wanted him.

  He succeeded in getting my panties pushed away and then worked on his jeans, fumbling until he got his zipper down and I arched toward him, bracing my knees on his waist, aching to experience more than his swollen dick against my thigh. I felt my dress being hiked up over my hips and realized he was reaching for something, rummaging in the back of his pants while muttering some sloppy curses.

  “What’s wrong?” I moaned, wanting him so much, not caring about anything else but having him right here and right now.

  “Fuck,” he muttered and with a jerk he pulled something out of his pocket. I saw it was his wallet, saw him struggle to extract what he wanted, saw the condoms flutter to the ground.

  “Fuck,” he muttered again and bent down to pick it all up, leaving me exposed and possessed by the dawning horror that this was wrong, so very wrong, and no, I didn’t want him this way after all.

  No matter what it couldn’t be like this, just a goddamn drunken hookup that he would barely remember tomorrow.

  “Derek, stop.” I furiously pushed my dress down, tried to locate my panties. “We’re not doing this.”

  He looked up at me, confused, his wallet in one hand and a condom in the other, his dick still hanging out of his pants. I saw his eyes shift with the realization that something between us had gone very wrong tonight. But it was too late because I’d started crying and I couldn’t stop.

  “No, baby,” he said, getting to his feet and clumsily tucking his dick away but the words were still slurred, the speech of a drunk. “No, don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

  All of a sudden I couldn’t be with him anymore tonight, couldn’t stand seeing him like this and knowing what it meant, that tomorrow he’d have to start all over again on day one and that he’d be so ashamed of everything that had happened tonight. I didn’t understand how people dealt with this kind of heartbreak time and again.

  Bile rose in my throat and I put my hand over my mouth because I was going to throw up. I needed to throw up. It would make me feel better.

  I stumbled away as Derek kept shouting my name. I didn’t get far before I ran smack into Kellan.

  “Shit,” he exclaimed, checking out my tears and then noticing his brother was staggering behind me with his pants open.

  Then things got worse.

  Sam and Ric had followed. Sam collected me out of Kellan’s arms while Ric took stock of the situation and screamed, “What the fuck did you do, Derek?” She sounded as if she might kill him where he stood.

  Thomas - the youngest and most clear-headed out of all of us - tried to get in the middle of the chaos.

  “Everyone, calm down,” he said. He looked at his brother and wilted a little but then turned to me. “Paige, are you all right?”

  “Yes!” I had to straighten this out before anyone ran away with the idea that something much worse had happened. “Yes, of course I’m fine. We just had an argument, that’s all.”

  My friends were looking at me with obvious anxiety.

  “Is that really all that happened?” Sam asked.

  “Yes. I swear to god that’s all that happened.”

  They stared at me for another minute, then seemed to accept that I wouldn’t lie to them about something so serious.

  Ric slipped a gentle arm around my shoulders. “Come on, sweetie, we’re taking you home.”

  I didn’t want to leave him here. But I couldn’t bear to stay with him when he was like this either.

  I looked at Kellan, heard the pleading in my voice. “You’ll take care of him?”

  He was miserable but he nodded. “Yes, I always do.”

  Sam threw one final disgusted glare at Derek, who responded by dropping to his knees and puking all over the concrete.

  Thomas bent down and put his hand on his older brother’s back. Kellan stood apart from them and watched as Thomas tried to get Derek to stand up. Then Kellan helped by pulling Derek off the ground by his arm.

  Sam and Ric took me back to their apartment and insisted that I needed to stay overnight on the pullout couch. They never said anything like, “We told you so,” or “What did you expect from Derek Gentry?” They gave me pajamas, watched The Notebook with me in its entirety and handed me tissues when I needed to cry.

  For most of the sleepless night I stared at their apartment ceiling, knowing that Derek was not too far away and thinking about my last view of the Gentry brothers tonight; Derek trying and failing to walk in a straight line while being propped up on either side by Thomas and Kellan.

  I couldn’t stop playing the picture over and over again in my mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Derek

  Waking up in the morning is pretty horrifying when the first thing that happens is the realization that you don’t know who the hell to apologize to first.

  Paige.

  I winced and sat up. Last night had been a disaster of epic proportions and it was one hundred percent my fault. I remembered drinking at the bar with Matt Florian, remembered stumbling off to the concert, remembered that I’d been ready to fuck my girlfriend against a cold wall in the middle of a park, basically treating her like she meant nothing to me. I remembered that she cried. I remembered how her friends screamed at me. And the last thing I remembered was being deposited back into my bedroom by Kellan.

  The worst of it all was the memory of Paige crying. I’d made her cry. Nothing was more painful than knowing that she cried because of me.

  I checked the time. Seven a.m. She might be sleeping and I’d risk interrupting whatever rest she was managing to get after last night’s emotional toll. As another wave of fuzzy memories washed over me I balled my right hand into a fist. I wanted to fucking punch myself with it.

  But despite the fact that I urgently needed to make things right, I still needed to shower and get to work. Saturdays were busy at the garage. I’d let everyone else down. I couldn’t let Conway and Stone down too.

  Not knowing if Paige was sleeping, or if she even wanted to hear from me or not I sent her a text. If she was sleeping then hopefully she’d keep sleeping and see it whenever she woke up.

  I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.

  Nothing about the message was adequate but I didn’t know what else to do right now. Running over to her house and pounding on her door first thing in the morning might be the last thing she wanted.

  The hangover wasn’t too terrible so after a shower I felt close to normal. At least physically. Thomas was in the kitchen scrolling through his phone and eating one of Kellan’s bananas. He looked up when I walked in.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” I told him.

  He nodded but it was an exhausted nod. “I know.”

  “Kel still sleeping?”

  “Yeah.”

  I poured a bowl of cornflakes. I wasn’t particularly hungry but I needed energy to put in a good day of work at the garage. Thomas and I ate in silence and then I rinsed out the bowl.

  “Got to go to work,” I said.

  He nodded again. “See ya.”

  Before I left I extracted my sixty day sobriety chip from the kitchen drawer and tossed it in the trash.

  Usually I didn’t keep my phone on me at the garage but today I did. Paige didn’t call though, didn’t respond to my text. On my lunch break I tried calling her but it went to voicemail. I tried again and the same thing happened. This time I left a message.


  “I’m sorry, Paige. I have no excuse. I’m at work today but I’ll keep checking my phone. Call me back. Please.”

  No one at the garage asked me if anything was wrong. At least that meant I could put on a good act the day after I screwed up my sobriety and turned my girlfriend’s birthday into a shit show.

  Despite the fact that Paige still hadn’t responded to me I decided to swing by her house on the way home. There was no answer. She’d taken the weekend off from work so she wouldn’t be at the pizzeria. Wherever she was, even if she was holed up in her house, ignoring my knock and hating my guts, I hoped like hell she was okay.

  I was tossing around the idea of paying a visit to Samantha and Erica but wanted to change out of my dirty garage clothes first so I decided to go home. And anyway I also needed to talk to Kellan. We hadn’t spoken since last night either.

  Paige wasn’t hiding from me in her house after all. She was sitting on the couch in my apartment talking to Thomas. They both stood up when I walked in. Paige’s eyes were a little red and her face was pale but she was here. I went to her immediately.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I said, folding her in my arms, kissing the top of her head, grateful when she answered with a weak hug in return.

  “Kel’s in his room,” Thomas said, rising from the couch. “I’ll go hang out with him for a little while.”

  A few seconds later the door down the hall closed and Paige withdrew from my arms.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said again.

  She ran her hand along the top of the couch and nodded without looking at me. “I knew you would be. I was going to call you back but decided I should just come see you instead.”

  “I’m really glad you’re here,” I said, hoping she’d take a seat or give some other hint that she planned on sticking around.

  “I don’t hate you,” she said, raising her head and looking me in the eye. “I could never hate you, Derek. I want you to beat this. And I want to be there for you.” Confusion clouded her eyes. “I just don’t understand why you did it, why you drank last night.”

  Because I’m selfish. Because I’m an addict. “I don’t understand it either.”

  She sighed. “What happens now?”

  “Now I start over.”

  “And you’ve done that before?”

  Too many fucking times. “Yes.”

  “And you’ll have to do it again at some point?”

  “I don’t know. I hope not. I’m going to try like hell to make this the last time.”

  Sadness was all over her face. “Maybe you just need to approach this a different way.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed and swallowed. “And maybe we could both use some help on that front.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  This might not be the right time to introduce a grim topic. But I wasn’t the only one in this room who had an unpleasant truth to confront.

  “You make yourself sick,” I blurted.

  Her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  Too late, it was out there. I wished it wasn’t but I couldn’t take it back.

  “Paige, come on. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  She crossed her arms and spots of color rose in her cheeks. “What is this, tit-for-tat? I have a problem with your drinking so you decide you have a problem with my…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “What?” I prompted. “Can you not even say it? I’m an alcoholic, Paige. What are you?”

  “My fucking eating disorder!” she shouted. “I stick my finger down my throat and I make myself throw up. Okay, you happy now?”

  She was definitely angry, and obviously thinking it was pretty shitty of me to bring this up today. She was right. I should have mentioned it before.

  Paige shook her head in disgust and leaned against the couch as if the admission had drained her. Her voice was sad and pained as she continued. “People say, ‘Oh why do you think you’re fat? You’re not fat!’ As if that solves everything. I used to be on the track team in high school and that’s where it started, because I didn’t want to gain weight. After my grandparents sent me to a clinic I got the situation under control. For a while. It’s different now. I don’t think about calories. The urge just strikes me when I’m sad or stressed or bored or for no reason at all.” She raised her head and stared at me. “I just do it. Just because.”

  That made sense to me. In a terrible way.

  “And I just drink, Paige. Just because.”

  She grimaced and looked away. I tried to reach for her but she didn’t want me to. She straightened and took a step back before crossing her arms again.

  “Well,” she with a miserable little laugh. “Aren’t we one hell of a fucked up pair.”

  It wasn’t a question. The bitterness in her voice was tough to take but I couldn’t argue with logic.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I guess that’s what we are.”

  It must have been the wrong thing to say. A tear fell down her right cheek and she angrily swiped it away.

  “Paige,” I said, feeling like a piece of shit and wanting to make up for everything, to figure out what she needed and how to give it to her.

  “No.” She took another step back. “I don’t think we should say anything else to each other right now.”

  My heart was shrieking at me that I couldn’t let her go like this, not when she was hurting so much. But I didn’t know how to make her feel better instead of worse.

  I sought the nearest chair and sat down, feeling like I was a million years old.

  “All right,” I told her. “I guess that means I’ll see you when I see you.”

  She didn’t say goodbye. She just left.

  A moment of terrible silence followed.

  Feeling sick over Paige’s anguish and knowing my brothers must have heard every word I called, “You can come out now!”

  A door opened and Thomas walked out, followed by Kellan. Thomas didn’t know how to deal with this. He just went and sat on the couch.

  Kellan was a different matter. He stopped four feet away and glowered at me. If he was going to yell at me over Paige then he really didn’t need to. I already felt crappy enough and was trying to figure out how to fix it.

  But to my shock he grabbed a handful of my shirt, yanking me off the couch, getting right in my face. “Stop. Fucking. Up.”

  I twisted away from his grip. “Look, you don’t need to hand out lectures. I know I’m a dick but I’ll make it up to Paige.”

  Kellan raked a hand through his hair and hissed with exasperation. “You think I’m just talking about Paige?”

  It was time to lay everything on the table. This conversation was probably long past due.

  “Kellan,” I said. “Listen to me now. This is my battle. You don’t need to be your brother’s keeper for eternity. I am NOT your responsibility.”

  “FUCK YOU!” He screamed the words and viciously punched the air.

  Thomas stood up and gaped at us, his head snapping back and forth from me to Kellan and back again like he had no idea what role to play in this scene.

  Kellan faced me and screamed again. “FUCK YOU DEREK!”

  I was stunned. Kellan was the king of sarcasm and he genuinely enjoyed annoying the hell out of people, especially me. But this outburst was more than that. This was pure raging agony, something I’d never seen from Kellan at all.

  “Kel.” I tried to touch his arm even though his face was red and somewhat murderous.

  He backed away from me, shaking his head back and forth and refusing to look me in the eye.

  “You don’t know,” he choked out. “You don’t know how it was. How it is.”

  I couldn’t figure out what he meant. Thomas looked positively stricken, unsure what to say or do.

  Kellan finally raised his head and I was astonished to see tears. Fuck, I hadn’t seen him cry since we were little kids.

  “Our big brother,” he said in a cracking v
oice and his face collapsed as a sob ripped out of him. He had to stop and take a few breaths before he could talk again. “We had to watch them take you away in handcuffs. We had to go visit you in prison. You knew how it crushed Mom and Dad. But we didn’t let on how much it crushed us too.”

  Thomas, ever the peacemaker, tried to get between us.

  “But that’s over now,” he said, appealing to Kellan and then me, wanting so badly for us to agree with him, that all the bad times were over and there was nothing but puppies and fucking rainbows to look forward to.

  Kellan wasn’t finished though. “You lost everything and almost killed yourself, Derek. And you can’t seem to stop yourself from trying to do it again. Why the fuck can’t you stop yourself?”

  “Just how long have you been drinking again?” Thomas asked me and he was hurt. He was looking at me as if he might be the next one to start crying.

  “I wish you knew what it felt like,” Kellan said and he wasn’t shouting now. Instead he sounded forlorn, heartbroken. “I know how much you struggle. I see it. But can you imagine how it feels to drag your shit-faced brother out of parties, to clean up his goddamn puke, to deal with the daily burden of watching him like a hawk because you know he needs you and because you want him to stay sober more than you want anything else on earth? And always in the back of your mind lurks the terror that one of these days liquor won’t be enough and he’ll turn to something much worse.”

  There’d been no shortage of painful moments in my life. But today they were stacking up with alarming speed.

  I staggered across the room, feeling their eyes watching my every move.

  “No,” I admitted, sinking down on the couch under the weight of my brothers’ grief. “No, I don’t know what that’s like.”

  Of course I worried about Kellan and Thomas. They were my little brothers and I wanted the best for them. I worried that Thomas would throw his arm out and damage his baseball dreams. I worried that Kellan would clown around too much in college and not take advantage of his brilliance. Those fears were minor, insignificant, nothing like what Kellan was talking about. They wanted to understand why I couldn’t just promise to stop drinking forever and keep that promise unconditionally. However there was no way to rationalize addiction to someone who’s never been in that lonely, hopeless place.