Beautiful Torment

by Paige Laurens

  “You said I was the only one you never used a condom with!” I shout.

  “You are,” he promises. “I didn’t believe her! I thought it was just a ploy to get me back. She said the condom must have torn, then she showed me the sonogram.”

  I turn away, the tears streaming down my face.

  “Yet you kept allowing this to happen, after you knew,” I snap. “And you never told me. How could you?”

  “I know it was wrong, and inconsiderate, and a million other ways you can tell me how selfish I am,” he sighs, his fingers pulling at his face. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I just knew couldn’t refuse you. I didn’t want to. I already fell too hard and I needed you.”

  “So what, you had me throughout the day and then her once you got home? That’s sick!”

  “No!” He shouts. “Please don’t think that little of me. I’ve been staying at my sister’s,” he kneels in front of me. “And God, Luci, please don’t think I touched her, because I haven’t. Not once since you and I started. I can’t. She’s not you.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I sniff.

  “I understand why, but it’s the truth.”

  There’s a deep sadness to his voice as he tells me the next bit.

  “Obviously, she decided to keep the baby, and I can’t be the person who leaves now, for the sake of the kid.” He falls quiet, his lips trembling.

  “Great, so let me know where I should send the baby gift,” I stand.

  “You know,” he stops me. “After I came inside you,” he says with a silent laugh and the memory cuts me like a knife, causing me to grab onto my stomach, just so I don’t fall. “I almost didn’t even bring up the whole doctor thing, because I wanted to risk it with you… because, shit, what if then it could be you then and not her? Then I could choose you!” He leans forward, and I know my ugly cry face is going strong. “But I realized how self-serving that would have been, and after all that I’ve already done to you I couldn’t. You’re so young and have so much ahead of you,” he shakes his head. “A bright future full of all the best things.”

  “This whole time you knew we could never be real,” I sob. “And you let me fall, harder and harder.”

  “Please stop crying,” he whispers. “I know I once again have no right, but I can’t take it when you’re sad… let me at least hold you while you cry, since it’s my fault.”

  “No!” I pull back, even though he’s nowhere near me. He flinches, the knife hitting him too. “Your story changes nothing.”

  “I know,” his tears fall now too. “For the record I wish things were different. That somehow you were older, or I was younger, and I met you before I even got married in the first place.”

  “Stop,” I plead, but he doesn’t.

  “I know it’s not fair. And I know what I’m about to say is equally as selfish, but I am in love with you, Luci. So fucking in love. I always have been and always will be. I can never change that.”

  I say nothing as I continue my walk to the door. His five minutes are up and his words are too late.

  “I think you’re a terrible person.”

  I can still hear the echo of the door slamming shut as I head to my car.

  Graduation is awkward, as mom tries to get pictures of me with everyone. Little does she know, I haven’t even talked to Chloe, Ashley, or any of my other friends in months.

  Just when I think the humiliation is over, and we can finally leave, I hear her yell the name that most gets my heart beating and blood boiling.

  “Mr. Harrington!” She shouts. Gracie and I exchange a look.

  “Mom, please stop,” I quickly glance her way, Gracie protests as well..

  “I just want a picture of you with your favorite teacher, so you’ll remember him,” she says as he approaches. As if I ever could forget.

  I watch Dad shake his hand, and Mom gives him a hug. He waves to Gracie before turning to me.

  “Congratulations, Luci,” he hesitates.

  “Luci, what’s wrong with you?” Mom yells when I don’t answer him. “Well, let me just take a picture,” she waves her hands, motioning for us to move together.

  “Oh come on Mom,” I groan.

  “It’s okay, if Luci doesn’t want to,” he’s embarrassed and sad.

  “Absolutely, yes! Lucinda Cunningham!” Mom orders, and I brace myself for the contact as he approaches, the magnetic pull of his body forcing me closer and closer. He removes his hands from his pockets, placing them around my waist as he glides behind me. He settles to my left, dropping his left arm as his right brushes against my lower back, staying there.

  “Smile,” Mom fumbles with her camera.

  To my complete horror, his thumb starts to move in gentle circles, causing my shirt to lift ever so slightly. I shiver from the contact as our eyes meet, full of sorrow and heartache.

  The flash goes off.

  “You weren’t looking!” She shouts. “And try smiling. You look like someone died.”

  I fake a smile, moving away from him as soon as the second flash goes off.

  “Josh, you ran off!” Holly walks up behind him, shoving a stroller. “Oh, hi Luci!”

  “Hi,” I mumble. I think I may have thrown up a little in my mouth. I hoped to never have to see the kid; in fact, according to Josh’s story he shouldn’t even be born yet.

  Probably just another lie.

  I stare at it - a boy.

  This is too real.

  I try to find a similarity in this child to Josh Harrington. My Josh Harrington. Maybe then it will make me hate him less, this innocent little person.

  My eyes dart around his face. His eyes are closed, his hair is light, his nose is wrong, and his chin looks like hers. Maybe it’s the anger in me, or the fact that I don’t want to find anything, because this is a part of him that has nothing to do with me, but I don’t see it. Not a damn thing.

  “Oh is he yours?” Mom roars, breaking my icy focus. “I didn’t even know you were married! You don’t wear a ring.”

  “Mom!” This time it’s Gracie who yells at her.

  “It’s okay,” he tells her.

  “He was so early!” Holly gushes before turning to me, “Do you want to hold him, Luci?”

  Josh jumps in, stopping the madness. I hear him talking as I run off, the tears are already welling up. No, she’s fine. We should get going.

  I don’t stop until I get to my car, out of breath and heaving, furious at life, because as much as I loathe Josh Harrington, I still love him.

  I think it’s Gracie who followed me, but I hear his voice and almost on cue, streams begin to run down my cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just wanted to say congratulations.”

  “It’s too hard,” I sob uncontrollably. “Next time you see me, if you ever see me again, please just stay away.”

  “No… Why?”

  I don’t know if he’s asking why he can’t talk to me, or why life is so unbelievably cruel, and I want to tell him that I’m not like him. It’s not okay, or good enough, for me to just to see him. I don’t work like that. I can’t get the words out, though, and Gracie’s voice prevents me from trying.

  “Come on, Luci,” she says, opening the passenger’s side door and getting in, saving me. I open my door too, pausing, looking back his way. He’s still waiting for my answer.

  “Because…” I stammer. “Every hello just means another goodbye. Don’t do that to me.”

  NOSTALGIA PART II

  The second bell rings, snapping me back to reality as the hall clears at a rapid pace. His wonderment and uncertainty soon turns into a smile, and he’s completely beaming by the time he sticks his hands in his pockets and closes the distance between us. I bite my lip nervously.

  “Luci,” my name is soft, a whisper on his lips.

  I let out a breathy sound, almost a hi.

  His smile is cautious and nervous, my last words still obviously haunting him.


  “How are… you look… gosh, it’s just… you’re here,” he stammers, laughing at his tongue-tied self.

  I try to collect my thoughts, my fists still balled, my eyes already stinging, so used to crying over him. I’m overwhelmed, still attempting to push past the rush of memories. Crap, and how my body reacts to him automatically - still - after all these years. It’s not fair!

  “I had to drop off a paper for my sister,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, Gracie’s in my class this year.”

  “I know,” I admit.

  “Oh,” he seems disappointed that I knew this.

  “Speaking of,” I breathe. “Don’t you have class now?”

  “Shit,” he rocks on his feet, his hands still in his pockets. “I do,” he smiles. “Guess you still are Trouble then, huh?”

  Old sensations surface as the air catches in my throat upon hearing my old nickname. He exhales loudly, unmoving. Needing to be somewhere, but desperately wanting to stay. “I heard you went to Italy after senior year.”

  “Yeah,” I let out a questioning sigh, wondering how he knows this.

  “You’re in school now though. Almost done.” It comes out as a statement rather than a question, because he knows.

  My heart pounds heavily and I nibble on my lip again. I thought for sure he’d forget me, be with his family, but here he is, and knowing so much!

  “I think we have a lot to catch up on,” he’s being wary and careful.

  “I- I-” I’m stammering now. I can’t do this to myself again.

  “Please?”

  “I-” I clearly can’t talk.

  “I’ll get down on the floor and beg if I have to.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I take a deep breath, wanting to waiver, aware that I shouldn’t.

  “A lots changed,” he promises.

  “Not for me,” I confess painfully, still so hung up on him.

  “That’s what I’m banking on,” he seems hopeful.

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? Like he still wants me to want him, just so he can break me again? Newsflash, Josh Harrington, I’m already broken over you.

  “We’ve always enjoyed eating together…” his stare burns into me, remembering, his mind clearly going where mine’s just been. Where it all started, and ended - lunch, our lunch. And all those times during lunch! Oh, how he’s ruined me in so many ways. The thought that he’s given me more orgasms, in this building, in a day, than any other man has given me in all these years, still has me panting. What I’d give to feel like I once did again.

  I’m smarter now, though, and the real world isn’t some fairy tale dream.

  “I’ll be totally pleasant, I promise,” he holds his hands up.

  Those hands! How they’ve touched me!

  I’m shaking my head no, but haven’t said a thing. I have to say no. I should say no.

  I’ve never been able to tell him that though.

  “I’m going to assume you still love Italian food,” he talks to the air, as I’m still quiet. “Great,” he whispers, happily, to our one-sided conversation.

  “Tomorrow then, 7pm,” he backs away, still facing me. “That small Italian restaurant in town.”

  This is bad. I’m sort of seeing someone now, not that it even matters. Not that this guy even comes close to what we had. Not that I would do anything with him anyway.

  I take a deep breath.

  Just say no!

  I swallow hard, my hands slightly shaking - the once teenager in me just begging to go somewhere in public with him, and on a Saturday night no less!

  He smiles at my continued silence, only this time, it’s so damn wide it reaches his eyes. I go to leave, so I can process the fact that I’m going to see him tomorrow, but I don’t make it far before he’s calling my name, and I’m turning back around to face him.

  “And Luci?” he raise his eyebrows in that way I’ve always loved, his eyes still intently on me.

  “It’s a date.”

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