by Mia Carson
She shook her head, ending the apology before I could begin. We drove home in silence. I looked over at Alyssa as she drove, still guilty for hurting her. The emotion was raw, cutting me deeply as I stewed in my own self-loathing. I was so intent on protecting her from all those terrible guys, but at the end of the day, I had hurt her. The fact that I had no real feelings for Brittney made the whole thing even worse, and I questioned the way I was acting. Was this really the kind of person I wanted to be?
We pulled up to the house, and I was relieved that the ride was finally over. I grabbed my backpack and duffle bag full of football equipment, hoisting it over my shoulder. Alyssa left her backpack in the car and walked up the steps to the house. Just before she opened the door, I watched as her body slowly crumpled, falling to the floor of the porch with a hard, thudding noise.
“Alyssa!” I cried out in panic and dropped my duffel bag to rush over to her. She lay on the ground, unmoving, and fear seized my heart. I had no idea what had happened or what to do. I knelt beside her, reaching down gently to touch her face, and called her name again. “Alyssa, please wake up,” I moaned, shaking her. Her skin was hot to the touch and covered in a layer of clammy sweat. Relief shot through me as I watched her slowly blink her eyes open.
“Blake,” she said hoarsely. “I’m not feeling very well.”
I set my backpack down on the ground and scooped up her small body with ease. “You’re going to be okay, kid,” I told her, carrying her into the house and up the stairs to her room.
I set her down gently on the bed as she said, “Thank you.” Fluttering her eyes shut, she turned her head, clearly exhausted.
“Alyssa. You have a fever. I’m going to get you some medicine, okay?” I told her in a strong, clear voice.
She didn’t open her eyes but simply nodded, turning over and curling into herself. I was nervous about leaving her, but she needed something to lower her fever. I ran out into the hall and to the bathroom, pawing through the medicine cabinet, scanning the labels of the different bottles until I finally found something that would reduce her fever.
I ran downstairs, bottle of pills in my hand, collected my stuff from outside, and tossed it in the living room, quickly locking the door behind me. I didn’t know where my mom or Rich were, so I was on my own as far as helping Alyssa. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and bounded back up the stairs as quickly as I had come down.
She was still lying in bed, but I watched as her body shuddered violently. She was shivering even though sweat beaded her body. I placed my hand on her burning hot skin, turning her towards me as I sat on the edge of the bed. “Alyssa, I need you to take these,” I said carefully, placing the pills in her hand and handing her the water after I helped her to sit up.
She nodded, swallowing the pills with a big gulp of water. She drank a little more and said, “Thank you.”
“Is there anything else you need?” I asked, unsure how to help her. I watched her as she lay back on the bed, resting her head on her pillows and shaking her head weakly. I hated to see her so fragile like this. I sat on the bed for a while, watching her shake and shiver, feeling useless.
I decided to leave and let her get some rest. I covered her up with the pink comforter, shut her bedroom door quietly, and went to my room and laid down. The day had really wiped me out. I would check on Alyssa in a little bit and take a small nap in the meantime. My eyes closed, and sleep came fast and easily.
My eyes blinked open when I heard a weird sound coming from down the hall. I sat up, looking at the alarm clock near my bed. 2:54 am. I groaned, sliding out of bed, and entered the hallway wearily. I remembered Alyssa was sick and felt bad because I had never gone to check up on her. I stumbled quickly down the hallway, the heaving noises becoming louder as I neared the bathroom.
“Lyssa?” I called out, peering into the bathroom. She knelt on the ground in front of the toilet bowl in the same clothes as earlier, and her hair fell into her face as she leaned over it.
She was unable to answer me, though, as she gagged and vomited violently. The sight of it made me nauseous, but I stepped into the bathroom anyway, kneeling next to her on the ground. I pulled her hair out of her face, and she rested her head on the rim of the toilet seat, exhaustion visible on her sunken face. Her skin was deadly pale and covered in sweat, and she had dark rims under her eyes. Her chest heaved up and down with painful breaths.
I was nervous and unsure, and our parents must not have heard Alyssa because their bedroom was downstairs. I rubbed her back gently, and standing up, said, “I’ll be right back, Alyssa. I’m going to go get my mom.”
I hurried downstairs and knocked on our parents’ door. My mom opened it after a moment, wary. “Blake?” she asked, confused, rubbing her eyes with her hand.
“Alyssa is upstairs in the bathroom. I think she’s really sick,” I explained in a worried, rushed tone.
Mom followed me quickly upstairs, the concern for her stepdaughter’s health waking her up. “What happened?” she asked as we walked to the bathroom.
“She had a fever last night,” I said. “Now she’s throwing up, and she looks pretty pale.”
When we reached the bathroom, Alyssa was still kneeling over the toilet, sick and dazed. My mom rushed to her side and asked her how she was feeling. Alyssa weakly told her what was wrong, and my mother listened intently, nodding her head as she spoke. I stood helplessly in the doorway of the bathroom, feeling useless again.
After taking Alyssa’s temperature, my mother bent down, placing two pills in the palm that Alyssa weakly held open. She downed the pills with the water and stood up on shaky legs. “Sorry to wake you guys,” she mumbled quietly.
I shook my head, and without a thought, said, “Don’t be.” She gave me a fragile, grateful smile and stumbled towards the doorway where I stood.
“Take her to her room,” Mom told me as I grabbed Alyssa before she fell. I nodded and helped her walk out of the bathroom. She followed us and walked passed me to prep Alyssa’s bed. She helped me lay her gently in the bed and even went as far as tucking her in. She turned to me before she left and said, “I’m going to check on her in the morning, but she should be fine for now. She needs rest. If you hear anything, let me know.”
I felt relieved, grateful for my mother’s help. “Okay, I will.”
She gave me a kind smile before saying, “Goodnight, honey.”
“Goodnight, Mom,” I said, walking towards the door.
I felt nervous leaving Alyssa alone, so I decided to stay in her room. I looked around the room, saw a somewhat comfortable-looking pink chair in the corner, and headed over to it. “I’m going to be right here if you need anything.”
Alyssa was already asleep, so I sat in the chair, my body aching and tired. I watched Alyssa, and as I fell asleep, a strange calm washed over me. I thought about how nice it would be to see her every night before I fell asleep and every morning when I woke. My eyes finally fluttered shut, and dreams of sparkling blue eyes and a musical laugh filled my sleep.
When I woke again, sunlight filtered in through Alyssa’s bedroom window. My body was stiff from sleeping in the chair. Alyssa’s bed was empty and neatly made. Confused, I stood up, wondering where she was. I hurried into the hallway and was about to head downstairs when I saw her reach the top of the stairwell. She smiled.
“I was just about to wake you up,” she said, a cup of tea in her hand. Her hair was wet, and she was dressed in a robe and slippers.
“Are you feeling better?” I asked, noting that she looked healthier.
She nodded and said, “Yeah. I mean, I have a horrible headache and still feel nauseous, but I think my fever is down for now.”
“That’s good,” I said, relieved to see her in a better state. I had no idea what time it was or if I was late for class.
“Shit. What time is it?” I asked her, heading to my room. I looked at my clock and saw that it was 9:
47 am. I was extremely late.
Alyssa stood in my doorway. “I’m so sorry I didn’t wake you up sooner. I just thought you needed your rest after last night.” Her expression looked so remorseful that I stifled my irritation.
“It’s fine,” I mumbled, tearing off my clothes. I wasn’t sure if Alyssa was watching me, but I didn’t have time to care. I changed and grabbed my phone, ready to run downstairs.
I pushed past Alyssa, who stood in the hallway, clutching her cup of tea with a frown. I realized she would be too sick to go to class today, so I would drive myself in. I headed for the stairs but turned back to see Alyssa shuffling to her room. “Wait,” I called out, walking over to her. Feeling guilty, I said quickly, “My mom is downstairs, but you can call or text me if you need anything.”
I kissed her softly on the top of the head before bounding downstairs, grabbing my stuff, and taking off for the day. There were a million thoughts running through my head as I drove to school, all of them focused on Alyssa. I took a deep breath. Knowing I would have a whole day without her made my day look that much worse.
Alyssa
I sat in my bed, typing emails to my professors to explain my absence. I sighed, rubbing my temples in an attempt to reduce the pain of my nagging headache. Setting my laptop down next to me, I laid back now that I had finished. I should use this time to study since I wasn’t able to attend class, but I was much too tired to do so.
I spent the day in my bed, watching movies and eating soup and doing my best not to think about Blake. I failed miserably. Memories of yesterday practically played on a loop in my mind. I frowned as I wallowed in a mess of conflicted feelings. I wanted to be angry at him for kissing me, and for us almost having sex, but I knew better. We made that mistake together. Even stronger than the anger that lingered was dissatisfaction stirring inside of me. I was so hungry and desperate for those lustful moments. The vast, overpowering temptation made me feel helplessly out of control.
This was yet another loop in the large, entangled knot of our relationship. Between all of the anger, lust, and regret, I didn’t know what to feel. There was no “normal” for us anymore, and I feared the situation was spiraling out of control, becoming too big to manage. The next steps we took were crucial—they would define what would come next for us. Would we finally free ourselves from this vicious cycle or let ourselves sink even lower?
On top of all of these bigger issues, the pettier part of me wanted to be mad at him about Brittney, who was basically his girlfriend at this point. I knew, though, that he hadn’t planned for us to hook up, and I had stopped it. After all the caring things he did for me while I was sick, I couldn’t be angry. In fact, guilt began to plague me. He had been late for class because of me and continuously got distracted from studying. If he didn’t pass finals, it would be my fault.
I decided that lying in bed all day was depressing. I was beginning to feel better, so I decided to go out for a bit. I climbed out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans and a cream-colored sweater, dressing quickly. I thought about getting something light to eat, maybe more soup or a salad. I went downstairs and climbed into my car, thinking of places I could go.
I wound up driving for a while and finally ended up at a small sandwich shop near campus. I got out of the car, running my fingers quickly through my wavy hair to pull it out of my face. I grabbed my wallet and headed inside, my stomach rumbling after being empty for so long.
I waited in line, patiently reviewing the menu. Finally making it to the front, I ordered a bowl of chicken noodle soup from a young, mousey cashier. I smiled at her as she handed me my change and waited for my order to be filled. Once she handed me the soup, I sat down at one of the tables scattered around the restaurant, grabbing a newspaper from the counter to flip through while I ate.
I ate my soup slowly, moseying through the paper, skimming articles and humming to myself. I was engrossed in an article when I heard a voice, deep and brooding, say my name. “Alyssa?” A guy about my age stood near me. He wore an apron and was cleaning tables, indicating he worked there. He looked familiar—dark and tall, with jet black hair and warm brown eyes.
I wrinkled my forehead. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
He smiled at me. “I’m Matt. I think we go to school together?”
I nodded and smiled back. “Oh, right, yeah. Sorry, I have a terrible memory. You’re on the football team, right?”
“Yeah,” he said with a low chuckle. We talked for a few minutes about school and finals. Someone called his name from the back, but before he left he said, “Hey, are you going to the afterparty for the game on Friday?”
I blinked, unsure if I had been invited. I shook my head and said, “No. I’m helping Blake study for finals all week.”
Matt’s face twisted with confusion and he said, “Really? Blake told me he was going. Weird. Well, if you change your mind, I’d love to see you again.”
I smiled and said sheepishly, “Okay. I’ll think about it.” Matt walked away, and I was confused, wondering why it hadn’t occurred to me that Blake would be going Friday. Well, if he gets to have fun, I might as well have some, too, I thought to myself.
It was dark out when I finally heard Blake’s car pull into the driveway later in the evening. Both our parents had returned from work and had eaten dinner. I wasn’t hungry, still full from my trip to get soup. I debated going to talk to him, but what would I say? I bit my lip and figured distance would be best for now. I flipped quietly through a book, but restlessness made it impossible to focus.
There was a knock at my door, and I practically jumped up to answer it. Blake stood there with a smirk on his face, leaning casually in the doorway. “Hey, kid. Feeling well enough to help me with some homework?” he asked, winking.
I shrugged. I didn’t have much else to do. “I guess. What do you need help with?”
“Sweet. I need you to help me write a five-page paper that’s due tomorrow,” he said with a sheepish grin.
I groaned and asked, “How much of it have you gotten done?”
He bit his lip and swiped a few golden locks of hair from his face. “Okay, don’t be mad, but I kind of haven’t started it yet.”
My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped in shock. “Blake!” I cried. “What the hell?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been busy with practice. Please, Alyssa, I need your help.”
“Fine, fine,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “Let’s get started.” I followed him to his room across the hall, even though I had just vowed to keep my distance. I couldn’t help myself, though. I wanted to be around Blake. He sat down on his bed, pulling notes and his laptop from his bag. He opened the computer and powered it on. “I can’t write for you,” I warned him. “That’s cheating.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving my comment off. “Just help me.”
Two hours later, we were a little more than three pages deep, and I was getting sleepy. I sat close to Blake on the bed, notes on my lap as I fed him sentences and points to include. He turned towards me, that familiar intensity blazing in his gorgeous green eyes. My heart skipped a beat, and my breathing sped up, my body once again a prisoner to its own desire. Without breaking our gaze, he said, “You are such a better influence on me than I am on you.”
I blinked and looked away. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said softly, staring intently at his wall.
Blake’s voice was empty and sad when he replied, and he didn’t acknowledge my response. It was as if he were speaking his thoughts out loud rather than to me. “You are better at everything,” he said pointedly. “You are so smart, and you always know what to do. When you were sick, I had no idea how to help you, but if it was the reverse, you would have known exactly how to handle it.” He let out a huff and kept talking, his voice rising in vigor. “You make my life so much better, Alyssa. You help me and nurture me. You make me want to be a better person.”
I opened my mouth but closed
it, hesitant to speak. I wasn’t sure Blake would hear me because he had continued talking as if I wasn’t there. I could feel him looking at me as he spoke, but I was shaking and would be unable to face him without breaking down. If I started to speak, all of my defenses would crash to the ground. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling him how he made me want to be a better person, too, or how I had been wrong about him, or that I cared about him. So I just sat there, struggling to keep every desperate cry inside, not letting him know that I needed him, too.
He finally ended his rant. “I can see the way I torture you. I confuse you, and I take you for granted. I’m no good for you, and it’s just not fair.”
I glanced at him and watched him, unable to stop myself. He wore a pained look on his face, and he was finally quiet. It was my turn to say something, and I should have corrected him. I should have told him that he did make my life better and that he made me happy. Despite knowing this, I remained silent. I wanted to dispute his words, but part of me thought it was better to say nothing.
Another part of me wondered if what he said was true. Was he good for me? Were we good for each other? I was happy before he came into my life, content with myself. Now, I had no idea who I had become or what I wanted. I was a mess, and I hated how hopeless and weak I felt around him, so unlike myself. I could feel tears forming in my eyes, and I was suddenly desperate to be away from him.
Before I shut the door, I could hear Blake say quietly to himself, “You deserve so much more.”
***
I spent the next two days either in class or locked in my room. I hadn’t seen or talked to Blake since we had spoken in his room. I avoided meals and only left my room when I was sure he was gone. He didn’t try to talk to me, either, for which I was grateful. I needed my space. I had to stay away from him, and I believed it was what we both needed.
