The Fall of January Cooper

by Audrey Bell

  I cocked my head. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

  She nodded. "More or less."

  I smiled. "Why?"

  "I'm going to hypnotize you and find out all of Olivia's secrets."

  "Olivia didn't tell me any secrets."

  "Then I'm going to find out all of your secrets," she said.

  I laughed. "Try me."

  "Why are you single?"

  "What?'

  "Why. Are. You. Single."

  I shrugged. "I don't know."

  She rested her chin in the cupped palm of her hand. "There's got to be a reason."

  "Maybe no one wants to date me."

  She laughed loudly.

  "What?"

  "You've got to be joking."

  "I'm not."

  "The reason that you don't have a girlfriend is because nobody is into it?" she looked me up and down. "No."

  "Yes."

  "No. Wrong answer.”

  "Alright, so, I'm picky."

  "You slept with Olivia."

  I nodded. “Right. Which you can’t stop talking about.”

  “Well.”

  “It’s not like we got engaged,” I said. “You didn’t even like Tyler.”

  “Well, it’s not like I slept with Tyler.”

  I choked on my vodka.

  “I told you, you couldn’t handle liquor.”

  I held up a finger, coughed, and wiped my mouth. Vodka was not a good thing to choke on. I took a breath. “Wait? You didn’t sleep with your fiancé?”

  “Ex-fiancé.”

  I stared at her. “Holy shit.”

  “What?” she said, with somewhat of an edge. “It had only been four months. I barely knew him."

  “You were going to marry him."

  She looked at me drolly. “Well, maybe I was in love with him."

  "Goddamn," I said, shaking my head. I took another bolt of alcohol.

  "Give me my alcohol," she said.

  I handed it back to her and wiped my mouth. "What if he sucked in bed?"

  "I'm not talking about my sex life with you."

  I smiled. "You didn't sleep with your fiancé and you expect me to believe you have a sex life?"

  "You can have a sex life without having sex with your fiancé," she said. She frowned, thinking over her words. "Yeah. That makes sense."

  "You're crazy."

  She reached into her bag and withdrew the pack of cigarettes from her bag. "You're wasted. You're slurring your words," She said. She laughed throatily and got to her feet. She lit one.

  "Come over here," she said, curling a finger, offering me a cigarette.

  "Those are bad for you," I said.

  "So is bartending. So is driving to Dallas from Boston," she said. She nodded. "Come here. I bet you've never had a cigarette."

  “Never had much interest in lung cancer."

  "You need to have a cigarette."

  "I don't. That's bad advice."

  She lit another cigarette, crossed her legs and handed me. "One cigarette."

  "They're terrible for you."

  "Exactly," she said. "Trust me. If I thought I could get you to do something actually bad and probably fun, I would. But that's not going to happen. So you're smoking a cigarette."

  "Why?"

  She smiled. "I think you're too good for your own good."

  I took the cigarette and inhaled shallowly.

  "You need to inhale."

  I smiled, gave it a second, try, and started to cough. "That," I said. "Is not worth dying for."

  "One won't kill you," she said, gripping her cigarette between her lips.

  "I just can't believe you hadn't had sex with a guy you were going to marry."

  "We were going to get married because we were in love," she said. "Not because we were having sex." She ran a hand through her hair. "I mean, it was his idea to propose."

  "Probably because you weren't having sex."

  "Excuse me?"

  I winced. "I mean, he ended up being a dick, right?"

  "You're saying he only asked me to marry him because he thought I'd sleep with him if we were engaged?"

  "No," I shook my head. "I'm sure he was head over in heels in love with you. But four months?"

  She looked at me dourly. "We got engaged after eight weeks."

  "Well, that's just stupid." I took another drag on the cigarette, which was making me hideously nauseous. "This is making me nauseous."

  "My engagement?"

  "Maybe. But probably the cigarette."

  "That's the vodka," she said informatively. "Me and your gerbil win." She waved her hand informally. "Tyler was in love with me. Definitely. Or, he was in love with the girl that he was dating. But I'm not sure who the girl he was dating even was." She leaned her head back. "I do all this stuff and say all these things..." She shrugged. "I don't really care about purses. I like shoes. But everyone always thought if I cared about shoes, I cared about purses. Like, all accessories are the same.”

  “What are you talking about?’

  “Well, I just mean I didn't really want a husband. It sounds so permanent. I just wanted you know, my other half. But people think companionship is companionship. I wanted so much from Tyler and Schuyler…they confused what I wanted with marriage. That’s not what I wanted. I wanted to find someone who really got me. But I was faking it. And, you know? Tyler was in love with me. Schuyler wasn't. But Tyler was. And Wesley, from high school. He wanted to be." She nodded. "But they didn't know me, you know? So it doesn't count."

  I looked at her and she gave me a goofy grin and because I was drunk, and slightly nauseous from the smoke, I just watched her clear blue eyes and swallowed. "I bet they knew you better than you thought."

  She shook her head. "No."

  I dropped the cigarette to the ground.

  "Do you ever think about that?" she asked. "Like you're missing part of yourself and you just have to find him? Or her?"

  I laughed. "No, never."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm too fucked up to make sense with anyone else," I said. I smiled at her. "Girls like Olivia are good for me. Can't fuck 'em up more than they already are and someone else already taught them not to expect anything other than a few late night phone calls."

  She looked at me. "You're not that fucked up. You're not any more fucked up than I am."

  Yes. I am. I felt serious again. Vanessa in rehab, Sam dead, a trail of girls whose faces I barely remembered, and whose names I’d never even known to forget. And January throwing herself at me on Halloween.

  I knew that’s what she was doing. And I knew she thought she could get something from me that I didn’t have to give. She had no idea how bad I was for people. She had never seen it.

  "Look, I'm drunk and I feel sick. I'm going to sleep this off. We have to leave early."

  I got up to go.

  She caught my wrist. "Hey."

  She had no way of holding me there, but I stopped instead of walking past her. "What?"

  "You're a really good person," she said softly. "Like all the way through. You're not fucked up."

  "You don't know me January."

  "No," she said. "I do. You don't want me to know you, but I do."

  I pulled my wrist gently but she didn't let go.

  "Maybe you acted like a jerk a few times. Everyone does that."

  "Okay. Great. Thanks." I smiled. "Nice pep talk."

  "I'm serious."

  "Come on. Stop playing around."

  She shrugged and let go and I walked towards the cramped bathroom to change.

  I heard her follow me inside as I was pulling off my shirt to step into the shower.

  "So, what would you want? You know? In a girl?" she said softly.

  “I’m too fucked up to even know,” I whispered back at her.

  “Well, say you weren’t too fucked up for it,” she said. “I don’t think you are. Pretend that you believe me.”

  I didn't turn around to look at her.
I stared at the peeling paint on the bathroom door, feeling her eyes as much as the cool breeze on my back. I shrugged. "I've got no clue." I smiled. "Someone who would run away with me, I guess. That's all I've ever really wanted to do. Run away. Live by the water, have a couple kids, not worry about...everything. Just feel…less alone. Less complicated." I rubbed the back of my head and turned around and caught the sad look on her face. "Come on. Don't look at me like that. It’s a fantasy. I’m not holding out for it, January.”

  She nodded. "Right. Yeah." She bit her lip.

  "I'm going to take a shower," I said, nodding at the door.

  "Right, right," she said. She chewed on her lip. It was adorable. She took a few steps towards me. I didn't move. She took another step, and I grabbed her waist and kissed her hard. I pushed her up against the wall, almost roughly, and she laughed softly and kissed me hard enough to bruise.

  Everything that I touched felt better than I had imagined.

  She tilted her head towards mine and I kissed her.

  She broke the kiss this time. "Is this a bad idea?"

  "Probably."

  "Definitely," she whispered, and then she kissed me again.

  I lifted her and she wrapped her wiry legs around my waist and I leaned her against the wall and she kissed my throat lightly.

  I couldn’t be gentle. I bit at her lip and then down her neck and she made a gasping noise in her throat. I stopped. Pressed my head against her forehead. “January, if you don’t want to do this, you better say so,” I said fiercely.

  “I want this,” she breathed.

  I threw my head back. The girl was light as a feather and I wanted to hold her forever, my hands wrapped almost all the way around her smooth thighs.

  "I want everything,” she whispered. “I could live by the water," she told me. "I could. I could be simple and have a few kids and learn how to fish," she whispered. "I could do that. I would do that with you. I would.”

  "January," I said, letting go of her slightly. Letting her slide down a little further on the wall.

  "I'm serious," she said fiercely. "I could do those things. I could. I want to.”

  The room spun slightly. I want to push her against the bed. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted her to feel like she was mine, and only mine. And she knew it. She saw hunger, desire, something in my eyes, and I saw a flicker of uncertainty lingering behind those clear blue irises.

  "What?" she asked me.

  She tilted her head against the wall. She seemed deeply vulnerable for a second, her blond hair fanning out from her face, those blue eyes like shining jewels.

  I ran a hand up her side. Felt a shiver go through her.

  “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” I whispered fiercely.

  “What if I do?”

  I turned with her and God, she just seemed to fit, easy, against me. I pressed her down, onto the bed. I ran the pad of my thumb across her cheek and I kissed her soft lips and she opened her eyes. For a long moment we stared at each other.

  "Christian,” she said softly. “What if I mean it?”

  I didn't know what to say and so I didn't say anything. She sat up, after a long moment, and ran a hand through her hair.

  Her voice changed. “Christian, seriously.”

  “We shouldn’t do this,” I said quickly. I sat back on my heels abruptly and watched her face changing. She didn’t say a word.

  “We’ll just regret it.”

  “Do what?” she asked.

  "This.”

  She looked at me. She was eerily calm, even though I could see her eyes icing over. The cool frozen ponds I’d seen the first night.

  My heart pounded against my throat. I knew I was right. We would just regret it. I could break this girl. She had never slept with her fiancé. She was looking for a part of herself in another person, and I wasn’t going to be that. She’d hate me if I fucked her. She’d expect me to stay, and I’d run. I would break her into fucking pieces.

  She’d hate me for fucking her.

  She’d hate me for running.

  She’d hate me for not saying the things she needed to hear.

  She’d hate me for not letting her inside my head, not knowing what to do, or how to be.

  She’d hate me if she knew how I’d frozen people out.

  She’d hate me if she knew me at all.

  She got to her feet. She ran her painted fingernails through her long, blonde hair, and she sounded like a robot when she said:

  “Right,” she said calmly. “Then we should go to sleep. We have to get up early."

  She walked away from me, just the short distance to her suitcase, but I could see her disappearing.

  I took a shower that put the ice baths I’d endured back when I played hockey to shame. I liked that it was painful. Gave me something to focus on aside from January’s face. And her body. Jesus, I’d wanted to touch her for so long, and when I did, for a few brief moments…

  I scrubbed my hair furiously. It didn’t matter what she felt like because I wasn’t going to touch her again.

  I couldn’t touch her again.

  Judging by the look on her face when she’d gotten up from the bed, I wouldn’t ever be allowed to touch her again.

  I got out of the shower shivering and I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t bother with a towel. I let myself shake. January Cooper. Damn it, January Cooper.

  I could almost see what she saw, though. That’s what was terrifying. I could almost see myself promising her everything. I could see us by the water. I could see us.

  I wanted it so badly too. But we wouldn’t get it. I breathed through my teeth. We would never get that. I couldn’t give that to her. And I had to stop before I started making promises I’d never keep.

  I looked down at the mass of scars on my leg and brushed my teeth, and grabbed a towel to get clothes.

  She had curled into a tight ball, turned away from the bathroom. I’d say she was upset if I hadn’t seen her asleep before.

  I got a second glass, filled it with water and opened the door.

  "January?" I said.

  Nothing.

  "Did you mean that?" I asked. She didn't move, just a deep, easy breath and I walked around the bed to see her asleep. "January?"

  I bit my lip and tried once more.

  “Hey, January.”

  Nothing. Fast asleep. Drunk and tired and worn out. I shouldn't have allowed myself the second to believe it.

  Goddamn January Cooper.

  I put the water on the bedside table, settled a blanket over her shoulders. She shifted slightly, but didn't wake.

  I turned out the lights, got into bed, alarmingly sobered up, finding it very difficult to nod off.

  I heard her breathing next to me and closed my eyes. She was going to be intolerable tomorrow morning.

  January

  "Look, you kissed me and I'm still talking to you," was the first thing I said to Christian, thinking I'd show him how to be an adult when someone kissed you.

  He was smiling. He obviously had survived the night a lot better than I had. And he had found a Starbucks. I’d never loved/hated him more than I had at that moment.

  He held out a Venti cup. I took it. Trying to think of something clever to say that could clear up the embarrassment of last night.

  "If this is decaf, I’m going to pour it on your head,” I said, thinking we could go back to making fun of each other each other.

  He just smiled. Shit.

  I took it and took a sip. Latte. Extra shot. Of course he'd done something nice. "Thanks," I said grudgingly. "What time is it?"

  "Almost seven."

  "As in it's not seven yet and we're awake?"

  He smiled. "Hey, that's not bad for a Harvard girl."

  "Thank you," I said, taking another sip of the latte.

  He gave me a half bow. "We should get going. There could be traffic."

  I grinned over my shoulder. "Spoken like someone who's never driven outside of th
e East Coast."

  "Oh, yeah?" he said, sitting down on the crappy bedspread.

  I noticed he had three more coffees.

  "You can have your second one when we get in the car."

  "Oh, boy," I said.

  I got another look at him. He had to know he was eye candy. Even if he'd avoided dating, he couldn't avoid the fact that he looked like a freaking movie star. I took another sip of my latte and set it on the bathroom counter. I turned the water all the way up, so it was steaming, and jumped in.

  Ugh.

  Ugh.

  Ugh.

  I could be simple for you. How had I actually said that aloud?

  And what had he done? He’d just been like, um, thank you but no? Gah.

  January Cooper, you are the most embarrassing person in the entire world. You are not allowed to speak ever again.

  I took my time towel-drying my hair, scrubbing my scalp furiously, like I could exfoliate the memory of drunkenly throwing myself at Christian Cutlass.

  Of course he knocked. "C'mon."

  "Hello. I'm getting ready."

  "For what? The interstate?" he said with a chuckle.

  "I have hair. It needs to dry. Otherwise we're going to have problems."

  "You and me or you and your hair?"

  "All of us. You. Me. And my hair."

  "That sounds like a Lady GaGa song," he said.

  "Five minutes."

  I took a sip of my latte and returned to operation exfoliate memories of last night. Obviously, there was no hairdryer. We were going to have problems. Me and my hair. And Christian. Me, my hair, and Christian. All day. All the way. Nine hours to Dallas. In an absolute fucking stew of humiliation.

  I combed it back and braided it quickly and grimaced. I reached for my makeup bag.

  Fuck it, I thought. Christian wasn't impressed. And who did that leave? The interstate? Maybe a cashier at a drive through window?

  I tossed the makeup bag into my tote and grabbed my suitcase full of shoes.

  Christian was half-asleep, feet up, coffee cup tilting dangerously in hand.

  "You look like you could've used some more sleep," I said.

  "Bed bugs got to me." He smiled when I flinched. "Here, let me get that." He grabbed my suitcase. The one he'd refused to carry on principle.

  I looked at him accusingly. "Well, there go your principles."

  "My principles, your hair—we're both abandoning the things we care about today."