Use Somebody

by Riley Jean

  “Please?”

  After a few seconds, I nodded, resigned. My movements were slow and sluggish. But one step at a time, I turned off my light, put on my shoes, and made my way down to the street.

  We sat in thick silence for several minutes. He didn’t even turn on the music.

  I recalled the last thing I’d said to him at The Alley. “Oh well, that was fun while it lasted,” I had spat with venom, ending things between us and belittling everything we’d shared. The hurt in his eyes replayed on a loop in my mind. After everything he had done for me, the thought made me sick.

  “I just wanted to say—” I started at the same time as Vance said “I didn’t wanna—”

  We both chuckled nervously.

  Cue awkward silence.

  “Let me go first,” Vance said and I nodded. “I didn’t want to leave things the way they are. I won’t see you for two weeks, and I couldn’t leave without apologizing and uh… oh, I got you this.”

  He reached in the backseat and fumbled a bit before revealing a plastic store bag. I stared at it for a second in confusion. He got me a present? Wasn’t that how he patched things up with Evelyn after they fought? Fancy jewelry and gifts? Well, no thank you. I was not Evelyn and he wasn’t going to buy my affection or forgiveness with gifts. My heart may have been locked away, but I knew one thing for sure—this was not the key.

  He rubbed the back of his neck while I sat unmoving. Once he realized I wasn’t going to take the bag, he reached in and pulled out a length of fabric. He noisily tossed the bag away and held up the cloth with both hands. I felt his eyes on me as I took in the gift he offered up to me.

  It was absolutely beautiful—a silky red scarf with delicate patterns of white and black woven through the fabric. My eyes were mesmerized by the vibrant colors and soft swirls.

  “I screwed up,” he explained. “I’m not sorry that they know now, but I’m sorry for how I did it. And more importantly I’m sorry that I hurt you. You are not cheap. Even though you aren’t mine, you are incredibly special to me. I can’t take back what I did. This is just so you can, you know…” he hesitated a second, then leaned forward to slowly wrap the scarf around my shoulders. He used both hands to lift my hair, then let it drop, my curls tumbling softly over the material and down my back. His thumb lightly brushed the spot on my neck before he tied it in a loose knot in the front.

  He leaned back and studied me. My gaze dropped to the scarf hanging down my front, and my hands moved to touch the soft fabric. The colors reminded me of the journal he had given to me for my birthday. Blacks, whites and reds.

  I ran my fingers over the silky material, seeing the gift as a peace offering. He had gotten the scarf to cover me, showing me that despite the stupid hickey, he respected me.

  It was a beautiful gesture—nothing grand or expensive—one that revealed how much he truly understood me. The very thought caused a fluttering in my chest, for that’s all I’d ever really wanted.

  “Say something,” he murmured.

  “It’s beautiful,” I breathed. I cleared my throat and looked at him sincerely, hoping I wasn’t doing everything completely wrong. “Thank you. This is so thoughtful. I’m sorry too. You were right, I haven’t been fair. I… care about you, Vance. But there are things about me you don’t know.”

  “Just tell me. Nothing you can say will ever change the way I feel about you. Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  “I know it will,” I answered honestly. “But I’m more afraid of how it will feel to hear myself say it out loud.”

  “Is this about what happened? That made you feel like you don’t deserve to be loved?”

  I closed my eyes and nodded.

  He cradled my face in his hands and touched his forehead to mine. “You do deserve it. What kind of existence is this without love? Your wall is blocking everything out, including the good. You need to deal with whatever you’re holding onto so you can move forward.”

  “I can’t,” I pleaded.

  “Talk to me,” he whispered. “We’ll work through it. Together.”

  I exhaled deeply. What kind of breakthrough was he expecting on the eve of his departure? I shook my head but didn’t break free from his hold, greedily soaking up his comfort. He would be gone for two whole weeks, so I’d have to absorb enough warmth to get me through fourteen lonely nights ahead.

  “You don’t understand. Whether or not you know the reason, it doesn’t change my decision. I can’t be your girlfriend. I don’t trust myself.”

  “I trust you.”

  At that I sat up straight and put some distance between us. “Well, you shouldn’t. I’ve already led you on, used you, and hurt you. Haven’t you had enough of my shit?”

  “Not nearly enough,” The goober chuckled. “As long as it takes. Remember?”

  His persistence was both maddening and wonderful.

  “Besides,” he grew serious and took hold of my hand, “that’s not a reason to distrust you, it’s evidence of your commitment fears. And you’re right, you were honest about that from the beginning.”

  I sighed and looked into his eyes, wondering if he’d be sitting here calmly if he learned the truth.

  “You made some mistakes in the past,” he deduced. I nodded warily. “Do you trust me? Am I another mistake?”

  I bit my lip. I did trust him. And that terrified me. But did I regret how far we’d come together, even if it caused nothing but heartache and complications? If I had the choice to go back and do it all over again, where would I draw the line? Would I have never kissed him? Never confided in him? Never thrown that first marshmallow or eaten that first pancake? How far back would I have to go? And which of those memories would I be willing to give up?

  I went for vague again. “It’s complicated, Vance. It’s hard to explain.”

  He waited patiently. “Can you try?”

  Did I want him to know? Could I confess to him my greatest sin? Could I let someone else help to carry this burden? Could I open my heart and trust him to know about my fears and my failures? Could I risk losing the one person who had ever been a real friend to me, to judgment?

  “I…”

  Knowing what I was capable of… could I trust myself not to hurt him too?

  “I-I’m not ready.”

  He dropped his head and exhaled slowly through his nose. He was clearly disappointed, but he wasn’t going to push me any further tonight. He opened his arms and embraced me. I let him. We sat there in the truck, silently holding one another.

  What was it about his hugs that gave so much comfort, yet brought so much ache? It was painful to know that after everything Vance had done for me, I wasn’t strong enough to give him this one thing.

  I didn’t speak or move for fear of what would come next. Vance was leaving tomorrow, so one way or another, we were on the verge of goodbye.

  “I told you I’d be patient, but that kind of went out the window tonight, didn’t it?” he chuckled sadly. “I don’t want to push you, but I can’t do the gray area anymore. And I don’t know if I can just be your friend.”

  I nodded. I’d come to the same conclusion. It was unfair and unrealistic to continue the friends-with-benefits arrangement we’d created. And we couldn’t go back to being just friends after everything that had transpired between us. That left two options: all or nothing. An ultimatum with two extremes, both of which frightened me.

  “So where does that leave us?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Certainly we both recognized the answer, but nobody was willing to say it out loud.

  He was quiet for a moment, then released a heavy sigh, gazing straight out the windshield. “We don’t need to decide right now. Two weeks apart. When I get back, we’ll talk.”

  Chapter 35

  Hope

  “Cross My Heart (Acoustic)” by Marianas Trench

  “Scarlett, is that you?” my mama called out the very second I walked in the house.

  “Yes mama,” I replied, supp
ressing a sniffle and shutting the front door.

  “Could you join me in the dining room, please? I’d like to speak with you.”

  Worst. Timing. Ever. Was I in trouble? Had I caused any trouble lately? I couldn’t remember.

  I’d just walked in from an emotional goodbye with Vance in our driveway. The solitude of my bedroom called to me, along with my journal and a little emo music. I did not feel like a swan at the moment. I felt like a duck with its head pointed down in the water, haphazardly flailing its feet in the air.

  In other words, definitely not in the mood for a conversation with my mother.

  “One minute,” I replied, using the entryway mirror to clean up the mascara and straighten my scarf to conceal the hickey. I did the best I could with my hair. Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and joined my mama in the dining room.

  She smiled at me when I entered. A good sign. “What a lovely scarf, dear. It’s so nice to see some color on you again.”

  I fiddled with the tassels on the ends. “Thanks mama.”

  “You’ve seemed to be in better spirits lately. I have to say it makes your father and I very pleased.”

  Too bad I couldn’t channel some of those better spirits right now. In truth I’d been a little anxious as of late, but I supposed there was still an overall improvement. I smiled politely and nodded.

  “Come sit,” she gestured, “I have some good news to share with you.”

  I got the distinct impression she was buttering me up for something. Curious, I took a seat across from her and waited.

  Finally, she could not control her enthusiasm any longer. “Congratulations!” she beamed, sliding over a thick envelope. “You’ve officially been accepted to Rockwall University of Dallas!”

  Hesitant, I picked up the paper packet, skimmed the acceptance letter and flipped through brochures, glancing up at her between each one. Her grin continued to grow.

  “Am I missing something?” I asked softly. “I never applied to Rockwall University.”

  She sat up straight and smoothed the invisible lines from her skirt. “I know, dear. You weren’t in the right frame of mind to think about it this last year. That’s why I took the initiative to do it for you. You have to think ahead, Scarlett. The application process takes almost a full year and if we waited until now to apply, it’d be another full year until you’d be able to start.”

  “You… applied to college for me?”

  “The plan was always for you to return to school, was it not? Your father was very patient to give you this year off, but if you want to do anything worthwhile with your life, you need to finish that degree. That’s why if you take this acceptance and begin next semester, he has agreed to pay for your next two years.”

  “He’s paying?” I all but shrieked. I couldn’t believe my ears. Sure, I currently lived at home and mooched off their refrigerator from time to time, but college was a huge expense. Never in my life had I expected them to pay for half of it. I hadn’t been financially dependent on my parents for years.

  “Bring it down a notch, dear. And mind your posture. Think of it like tuition reimbursement. Many companies offer assistance with the cost of continuing education. Considering all the years you worked for your father, he’s adding this on as a delayed benefit, even though you decided not to work with him when you moved home. You’re very lucky he’s giving you this opportunity. Maybe you’ll remember that when you graduate.”

  “But… where will I live? What about—”

  “It’s all taken care of. Your dorm, your transcripts, your class registration, your plane ticket. Between your AP classes in high school and handful of courses at Ocean, you’ll be enrolling as a sophomore. Spring semester begins in mid January. You leave in three weeks.”

  There was too much information to process, too many questions, I was speechless.

  I could have it all. I could move to Texas. I could finish college.

  I could leave behind the old Scarlett for good, along with all the memories and mistakes associated with her, and everything about this town that had become a hole I couldn’t climb out of.

  I could start over.

  “Why Texas? Why this school?” I’d always been under the impression that my parents never really understood me. Had she somehow known it was always my hope to return? Even during my senior year in high school, I kept that dream a secret when my friends convinced me to only apply to local colleges. Maybe if I’d told my mama back then, she would have encouraged me to make it happen, and I would have better off all along.

  “Oh Scarlett… I think a change of scenery will help, don’t you?” She reached out and ran her hand lovingly through my mess of curls. It was strangely affectionate, coming from her. “I always believed you would’ve done well in Texas. A southern heart doesn’t always fit in the hustle and bustle of LA. It needs to be surrounded by clean, open air, and good people rather than nice things.” She smiled, and I smiled back, feeling like she really got me in that aspect. “Dallas is a great city for young adults. And this school has an excellent business program. It’s where I would have gone, if I had the opportunity back then.”

  I looked up at her. “My major is journalism.”

  “You can always change it later, of course,” she flicked her wrist dismissively. “But at least try these classes for your first semester. Your father and I thought you’d do well with a business degree, given your background. And don’t forget, he is paying for this.”

  “So in other words, I better stick with the business program,” I muttered.

  She put forth minimal effort to stifle a lofty smile. “I’m sure we can work something out. So long as you don’t earn a degree in something like art, or music.”

  Oh I see. Hilarious.

  Obviously, music had always been a hobby of mine. Though I never had any interest in perusing it further, like say for a career, my parents still liked to tease me about my little garage band stint.

  My jaw set. “Not to worry, mama. The lady you raised is far too logical to have those kinds of dreams.”

  She released a wounded sigh but stayed otherwise silent. My father may have been quick to put his foot down, but my mother had mastered the art of manipulation through passive aggression and guilt trips.

  She was right, though. Considering everything they were offering me, I felt kinda bad for sassing her. It made sense; why should the business pay for classes not related to business? Maybe writing should remain a hobby, just like music. Given my years of work experience, numbers were what I knew, and what I was good at. And after graduation I’d have a guaranteed job. Perhaps this was where my most fruitful career would be, after all.

  (Ever wonder where the manipulation and exploitation started for me? Well, now you know.)

  Pensive, I flipped through the rest of the leaflets and photos without looking up.

  “I don’t know what to say…”

  “You know, James is being deployed right around the same time. Your father and I are going to be empty nesters. Won’t that be something?”

  Maybe I could’ve been mad that they’d taken gross control over my life. I could’ve been hurt that my mother would rather send me to live 1,500 miles away than look me in the eye and ask me what happened. I could’ve been offended that she felt the need to bail me out, like she had done so many times with James.

  But I wasn’t.

  I’d made a mess of my life and I was nothing but grateful for the chance to start over. Opportunities like this rarely came around. Besides my pride, I couldn’t think of one good reason to turn it down. This was where I was meant to be. This was what I should have done two years ago.

  And in one fell swoop, it solved all the problems I’d created for myself here in California.

  Moving.

  I tossed the idea around in my brain. Chewed on it a little.

  This could be a good thing. This could be a very good thing.

  * * *

  Drenched in sweat, throat aching, and
my hands covered in red, I awoke.

  No. Not again.

  Trembling, I rubbed my hands on the sheets again and again and again. Despite my blurring vision, despite telling myself over and over that it wasn’t real, all I could see was his blood.

  “Don’t do it love,” echoed in my ears. Why hadn’t I listened?

  Desperation brought me to my knees, hyperventilating, shaking on my bed.

  My fault. My fault.

  My eyes squeezed shut. I needed to see him to know he was okay. But he was already gone. He’d be gone for two weeks.

  I groaned and clutched the blankets in quivering little fists, knuckles turning white. A jumble of obscenities raced through my mind. How the hell was I supposed to survive the next two weeks without seeing him for myself?

  Screw it. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. If I had to go without contact for the next fourteen days I’d lose my shit.

  After three agonizing rings, he answered brightly. “Good morning!”

  At the sound of his voice, I collapsed in relief, falling back to the bed as silent tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

  He was okay.

  “Rosie? You there?”

  My mouth opened and shut, afraid that if I tried to speak, my emotions would escape. I shouldn’t have called him—what was I thinking? I couldn’t let him hear me like this.

  “Hey,” I whispered into the mouthpiece, throat tight.

  “There you are.” I could hear his smile through the phone. “I thought maybe you butt dialed me.”

  I slapped my forehead, wishing I’d thought of that.

  “You still there?” he said after a few seconds had passed.

  I concentrated to make my voice sound normal. “Sorry for calling already, I just wanted to, uh…”

  “Yeeees?” he said, drawn out and expectant.

  “I just—” my voice broke.

  Shit.

  “Everything okay?” Instantly he sounded concerned.