by Shelia Grace
“Sorry, guys. I’m running on about two hours of sleep, and I’ve gotta let Finn out.”
“You have a dog?” Sarah asked.
I couldn’t tell from her expression whether she was excited or disappointed, which was another thing. Alex’s facial expressions had broadcast her every emotion. I missed it.
“A Shepherd.”
“Are you going to be okay on the bike?” Jess asked, looking me over for signs of overt drunkenness.
I shook my head.
“I’ll pick it up tomorrow. It’s only a mile back to my place. Andy, Lauren, Sarah, it was good meeting you guys. Brenda, dinner was great.”
As I turned to leave, Sarah handed me a business card with her cell number scrawled on it, and I smiled miserably. My guess—from the number of times her leg had brushed mine under the table—was that I could have someone in my bed by tomorrow night if I wanted. And if James had been here, he would have smacked me upside the head if I didn’t call her up later tonight to invite her back to my place. Speaking of the devil, I hadn’t heard from James since last week, and as far as I was concerned, McDevitt was on my permanent shit list for the asinine performance at my parents’ event. Jess walked me out, and when he asked what I thought of Sarah, I gave him a look. He shrugged.
“Blame Brenda.”
“I can’t. I owe her. Tell her I thought Sarah was great, but I’m a fucking mess right now. She doesn’t want to expose any of her friends to me.”
“You make it sound like you’re a virus, Matthews,” he laughed. “You wanna play ball next week?”
I nodded and waved as I walked to the sidewalk. It was a Friday night, and I had no reason to expect that Alex would be at the dorms, but I found myself walking in that direction anyway. It was in the mid-forties, and it wasn’t raining, so it wasn’t too bad. I walked quickly and reached the edge of campus where Alex’s dorm was within ten minutes. When I got to the back of the building, I watched as a group of feral cats scurried across the lawn. Looking up at the windows on the third floor, I felt like a deranged stalker. Fuck that. I was a deranged stalker. Only two lights were on; one of them was Alex’s room. Pulling out my phone to text her, I sighed and put it back in my pocket.
This was the way she had wanted it, and I had to respect that.
I was about to take off when her light flicked off. Jogging over to the side of the building, I held my breath and waited. A minute later, I glanced toward the front of the dorm and saw someone in a hoodie crossing the parking lot toward the street. My heart sped up. It was Alex.
Then I got angry. What the fuck was she doing alone in the middle of the night? She reached the sidewalk and started walking—fast—toward frat row. Cracking my knuckles, I followed about fifty paces behind her. For a tiny girl, she walked fast. I exhaled as she passed the frats and kept going. Finally, by the time she passed Jess’s street, it dawned on me where she was headed. To my house.
I laughed quietly. I wasn’t the only stalker. Stopping on the corner, I watched as she walked down my street—on the opposite side—before stopping a few houses from mine. I crossed the street and jogged toward my house without giving any indication that I had seen her. When I opened the front door, Finn yipped, and I went to the back of the house to grab his leash from the hook on the wall. I leaned down to scratch him on the head.
“Guess who came to see you?”
Finn tugged me toward the front door, and as soon as I opened it, he strained at the leash. I let him pull me down the stairs toward the sidewalk. He stopped, sniffed the air, whined, and began pulling me across the street—just in time to see Alex running for the corner. A second later, I heard the screech of brakes and watched a Civic come within inches of hitting her as she cut across Lincoln.
Jesus! Now I really wanted chase after her now and shake her senseless. She had nearly fucking killed herself just to get away from me. I took out my phone and sent her a text.
Tell me when you get back to Mercer … or I’m coming over there.
I paced up and down the block with Finn a couple of times, itching for any excuse to ride back to her dorm and break down the fucking door. Finally I let my dog into the house and was walking to the bike when I got a text.
Sorry. Won’t happen again. I’m at Mercer. A
She must have run all the way there. I felt my jaw clench. Won’t happen again? What the fuck did that mean? She thought I didn’t want to see her again? Picking up the tennis ball, I bounced it against the wall and took out my phone.
Alex, talk to me. Please.
Setting the phone on the table, I flipped open the laptop and worked until it felt like my eyes were bleeding, the breakthrough I was waiting for just out of reach. It didn’t help that I kept stopping to stare at my phone every five fucking minutes. But Alex never wrote back. Eventually, sometime after three, I fell into bed.
In the dream, she looked at me before stepping off the curb. Then I heard the screech of brakes and watched the car hit her. I ran, but by the time I got to the street, she was still as stone. I reached down and lifted her into my arms. Her skin was cold to the touch. Then her eyes opened.
“I love you,” she whispered.
When she disappeared right out of my arms, I shouted.
Sitting upright in bed, drenched in sweat, I looked around the darkened bedroom breathing hard, my fists clenching the sheets. The image of Alex in my arms, cold and lifeless, made my stomach pitch, and I barely made it to the bathroom before the nausea overwhelmed me. I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, dragging myself to the kitchen once for a bottle of brightly colored sports drink.
The rest of the weekend was destroyed since I could barely fucking move. Finally on Sunday night I called Jess and got his voicemail. If he and Brenda had gotten what I had, then they were most likely lying on the bathroom floor hating life just like I had been. For the first time all weekend, I was glad Alex had taken off running before I could catch up with her on Friday night. That was all she needed—to get the stomach flu, something I hadn’t had since elementary school.
The week didn’t get any better after Sunday. Robertson was being a prick, as usual, and the only reason I had agreed to TA his intro classes was to stay on his good side through the end of the program. But sitting in lecture while he taught to the top one percent was fucking maddening. I could get up there, and in a week eighty percent of the class would be passing. I had spent Sunday night putting together his next exam, knowing he would reject anything that was passable by a reasonable majority of the class.
Tuesday I ran five miles before hitting the Rec Center to punish myself ruthlessly. On Wednesday, when I played ball with Jess, he told me Brenda’s friend Sarah was still hoping that I would give her a call. I passed him the ball with a little more force than usual.
“Forget I said anything,” he laughed.
I blocked his next shot.
“Jess, just tell your fiancée I’m not good date material for the foreseeable future. All right?”
I took the next shot for the game.
“You up for another game, Matthews?”
It was strange to think that the only person on campus who knew my real name was Alex. It was too bad in Jess’s case, but I didn’t want anyone in the math department to know that Bennett Hall had anything to do with my family. It would just complicate things, and I didn’t need more complications.
“Depends. You up for getting your ass kicked again?” I asked.
“Bring it, you tall-ass motherfucker,” Jess grinned.
When I finished kicking his ass again, I went back to the house, showered, and thought about going to the grocery store to change up my routine of cold cereal and canned soup. Then I got a call from Becca. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I took out the picture of Alex.
“What’s up, sis?”
“Ryan, dear, what the fuck did you say to Mom on Saturday?”
“Very little. Mom was being Mom, and I got sick of her belittling my date.”
“Well, that’s Mom for you. In any case, just wanted to let you know that I’ve been fielding her little guilt trip in your absence, so I hope things worked out with your miniature date.”
I was silent for a single second, and Becca pounced.
“Oh, Jesus. She didn’t dump your sorry ass because of Mom, did she? Shit, I might actually be able to give Mom a guilt trip for once in my fucking life.”
I sighed.
“No, Bec. I got my ass kicked to the curb all by myself.”
“Well? What did you do, you dumbass?” my sister cried. “Because that girl was so in love with you it wasn’t even funny.”
“That was the problem.”
She sighed, and I could practically feel Becca’s disapproval over the phone.
“Ryan, I’m your big sister, and I love you. But you’ve got some serious shit to work out, and I hope you figure it out. You think the parents need you to be Reece, but even if they do, it’s your fucking life. Don’t waste it. ’Cause if you keep pushing everyone away, you’re going to end up alone. Just think about that.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t angry or hurt, just numb.
“Call me when you want,” she said before hanging up.
I sat there and remembered the first night I had seen Alex Reed, her jade green eyes sizing me up in an instant. She had thought I was a dick. That had been easy enough to tell. She had thought I was McDevitt. And I hadn’t proven her wrong, had I? I had been a complete fucking jackass.
What had it been about her? The serious expression on her face as she took notes while her roommate was mentally undressing me? The way she had looked up at me when she had forgotten to write her name on the assignment? The fact that she had written WTF next to one of the homework problems?
All I knew now was that I wanted to see her. Becca was right. I had some serious shit to work out.
The next morning, I rode out to the cemetery. I hadn’t been since undergrad, and now that I was here, I felt a spike of guilt. Parking the bike, I walked up the hill. The sky was gray, and the colors around me seemed muted, which was fitting since that was how this place always appeared in my dreams.
I stopped at his headstone and stared at the epitaph, thinking of how many TV shows and movies showed people talking to a headstone. I didn’t talk. I just stood there silently, waiting for some sort of redemption or absolution to hit me.
Reece Nathaniel Bennett
Beloved son and brother
Reece’s rightful place in our family had been that of the hero, the golden son. He had been ten years older than me, four years older than Becca. I had been just about to start junior high while he was finishing up college with a major in viticulture. He had dutifully come home every weekend, because, unlike me, Reece had never had any illusions about doing anything other than winemaking—or at least that was the picture my parents had painted in their minds after he was gone.
To me, my brother had been a god. He still was one in my mind. Lofty, removed, revered—an adult before I had even hit puberty. And after the accident, I had found myself wondering on several occasions why my parents had even bothered with me. Ten years after Reece. Six after Becca. The only thing I could come up with was that I had been the mistake.
I had been with him the day he died. He had been home for the summer, busting his ass for my father. That day, he had offered to let me drive the truck—something our father never would have allowed. The only catch had been that I’d had to ride along with him while he ran errands. It had been hotter than hell that year, the asphalt shimmering in the heat, and eventually I had nodded off while he was driving. The next thing I remembered was EMTs pulling me through the windshield. I had no memory of seeing my brother in those moments. Or if I ever had, maybe I had blocked it out.
Later, after I got out of the hospital, they said that falling asleep had saved my life. But there had been something about being unconscious at the moment my brother died. Now, more than sixteen years later, that day still had a dreamlike quality to it. Like I was going to wake up at any moment, and Reece would be the same as he had been that day. Forever twenty-two.
The fact that he had died while I was sleeping also left me with an unshakable sense of guilt, a sense of certainty that if I had been awake, things would have been different.
There was a picture of Reece hanging in the main building of the winery. If Alex had seen it the night of the event, she might have assumed it was me in the picture. And sometimes that was the way it felt: that I was a carbon copy of Reece, kept on hand in the event of a disaster. The day we had come to the cemetery to bury him, I had sworn to myself that I would never love another person again. Stupid? Yeah. But something about that promise had stuck, and like a superstition taking on a life of its own, it had followed me into adulthood.
Of course I loved Becca and my parents, but in a very different way than I had before Reece died. Gretchen had been perfect for me. She’d had no emotional requirements, only material ones. Presents had thrilled her. Emotions hadn’t. Parties were her domain; one-on-one conversations only bored her. Fuck. Maybe that was what had drawn me to Alex despite my better judgment. Alex had been real. And maybe that was what scared the shit out of me. I wanted her, but I didn’t deserve her.
Then I realized: fuck it. Neither did any of the other damaged assholes who would be trying to screw her for the rest of her college career.
Chapter 21
Alex
I took a step back. His breath reeked like the cheap beer he was drinking, and I was seriously beginning to regret taking up Rachel on her offer to hang out at her dorm. Still, I hadn’t seen her in forever, and it had seemed like a good idea to get out since I didn’t have much else to do. Julie had gone home for the weekend, which was easy for her, since she only lived about an hour away. Plus, she had a car at school. For me to get home for the weekend, it would have required a pile of cash for a flight.
So instead I was hanging out with Rachel. Or more accurately, I was hanging out with some guy from the suite down the hall from hers. Unlike my dorm, Rachel’s was set up more like a large apartment complex with suites of rooms that shared common areas and bathrooms.
“Drink, fuckers!” Rachel’s roommate Lauren shouted.
There were about fifteen people crammed into the common area, all of them playing some kind of drinking game. As the guy who had been glued to me all night leaned in closer, I looked around for Rachel. She was—literally—rolling around on the carpet across the room sucking on a Jell-O shot, her lips stained bright red.
“Hey, you wanna go back to my room?”
I looked at the drunken guy in front of me. He was gangly and blond, but not blond like Ryan. This guy had floppy, white-blond hair that made him look like a little kid. And he was annoying the living fuck out of me. I smiled through gritted teeth and shook my head. Then I went over to tell Rachel I was leaving. I had planned to spend the night on her floor, but this was too much for me to handle.
“I’m gonna take off, okay?”
I wasn’t even sure why I was bothering to tell her.
“Nooo! Alex, it’s early. Lauren, tell Alex it’s early,” she slurred.
Lauren wasn’t paying attention. Besides, I didn’t think Rachel’s suitemate liked me very much. Or maybe I was being overly sensitive as the only remotely sober person in the room. I patted Rachel on the head, remembering the days in high school when she had been more uptight than me.
Ah, the good old days, I laughed silently. Rachel shouted my name as I made my way back to her room. Turning, I flinched as cold liquid drenched my chest. In front of me, my old high school buddy was teetering on her feet and laughing hilariously, holding an empty cup in her hand. And that was when I remembered why I didn’t come over to Rachel’s dorm very often: she was fucking nuts when she drank.
“Thanks, Rach. That’s really nice.”
I looked down. The entire front of my formerly white shirt was pink. Goin
g into Rachel’s room, I grabbed my backpack and thought about strangling her on the way out.
“You want me to walk you somewhere?”
I looked at my obnoxious new friend and shook my head. Then I ducked out the door and headed for the stairs. It was a fifteen-minute walk back to Mercer, which I wasn’t looking forward to doing in a wet shirt. When I started shivering, I gave in, walked back to Rachel’s suite, and locked myself in the bathroom, which already smelled of Jaeger and vomit. Pulling off my wet shirt, I swapped it for the dry T-shirt that I had planned to sleep in. Rachel’s was the only dorm off campus, so I had to cross Lincoln and walk back on the street. When a car pulled up at the light, I looked over in time to see a guy’s hairy ass sticking out of the passenger-side window. Nice. The light changed, and I ran across the street. By the time I got back to Mercer, I was miserable, cold, and tired. My dorm was slightly quieter than Rachel’s had been, but when I got to the third floor, I nearly screamed. There was a fucking a sock on the door again.
“Fucking Brit!”
I reviewed my options about ten million times. Option A, I could burst in on Brit and whatever she had in there. B, I could go to the RA’s room and rat out Brit, but our RA Tiffany was never in her room, anyway. Or C, I could sleep on the couch in the lounge again. My last option was to do what I had been telling myself not to do all week—which was text Ryan. Of course, he had already fucking caught me standing outside of his house in the middle of the night like a freak last week.
I gritted my teeth at the memory. At first when he had come back out of the house with Finn, I had thought that maybe he hadn’t seen me. Then, my stupid ass had nearly gotten hit by a car, and he had texted me about two seconds after that.
Going into the lounge, I gave in and sent the text, not sure whether I would hear from him or not. Curling up on the lumpy couch with my backpack as a pillow, I tried not to be too hopeful. I closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew, I heard Ryan’s voice. It took a few seconds to realize that I wasn’t dreaming.
