by Mariah Dietz
I don’t give two shits about what happened and am ready to punch Pedro as well to get him to calm down when he turns his anger filled eyes to me.
“What the fuck? Get off me, Miller! Just because she left your sorry ass, you think it’s okay what he did to her? He tried to rape her!”
I don’t know what courses through me. It’s so consuming, it overpowers my ability to think straight as his words hit me again and again like a physical attack.
I don’t hear or see anything. Not the satisfying crunch of flesh, not even the blood that’s now covering me, but at some point I realize I’m being pulled away and feel my body react to it. I struggle to get free from the grip on my arms as another goes around my neck, and then I hear Pedro repeating that he thought I knew.
I never knew. How much had I never known?
I get shoved outside and into Landon’s SUV before I can stop it. My mind’s far too warbled to be able to object to the chain of events as thought after thought rains on my brain. Is that why she had stayed a virgin so long? What had he done to her? Did he cause part of her strange issues about attachment and the future? Did he hurt her? When in the hell did it happen?
The ride home is filled with silent thoughts. I can hear their minds shouting the same questions mine is.
When we pull into the driveway I break the trance. “I need Kendall to call her.”
Jameson turns in his seat beside me and stares at me blankly, as if he’s trying to make sense of my simple words.
“Find out what in the hell happened!” I demand.
“Dude, they just started getting to where—”
“I need to know if he touched her! I need to know what happened!” I watch Jameson’s jaw clench as my words come out in a yell.
Finally he nods and turns away.
That night I sit outside with my phone off so I don’t receive messages or calls from Erin. I can’t see her right now, not when every single one of my thoughts and emotions is working to dissect every interaction with her. How did I not know this? Why hadn’t she told me? If I had known this, there is no way in hell I would have ever been okay with her staying at the apartment. Then again, neither would her parents, or Kendall. How in the hell does Pedro know about what happened, and the rest of us are in the dark?
“Hey, Son.” He doesn’t wait for me to reply, probably because he knows I won’t. His footsteps approach me on the patio and he takes a seat, causing Zeus’s tail to loudly thump in anticipation.
“You want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Seems to me there’s mountain loads to talk about.”
“She left.” My admission is met with silence that I allow to fill the space between us for a long while, assuming that this advice thing is as new to him as it is to me. For some reason I continue. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe if I go back to trying to be honest with myself, I’ll realize that if I hold these words inside of me any longer, I’ll combust. “I loved her and she left. Maybe I wasn’t enough. Maybe I’ll never be enough.” I’ve been thinking these words since before we even got together.
“We had a fight. Her best friend got married, and Kendall was planning on moving in with us. The suggestion that she move in was brought up, and she freaked out. She snuck out of bed, packed a bunch of shit up, and went back to her apartment without saying anything. I was so pissed. How do you go from all in to pulling all the way back like that? I don’t get it! I was so …” I shake my head, trying to find the right word.
“Scared. You were scared, Son.”
“I was shitting my pants scared,” I admit.
I sit in silence, soaking up my acknowledgment. For some reason admitting this fact seems to relieve me of something, and makes my chest feel less constricted. I take a deep breath, letting the silence calm my emotions.
“Then her dad died and all hell broke loose. She completely changed. She pushed everyone away. She couldn’t stand for people to touch her or be around her. She just hid out all the time, biding her time until she finally told us she was leaving. She’d planned it all. She sold her shit, she broke her lease, she transferred schools. She did it all without saying a fucking word about it. Then, she left.”
“It sounds like she’s scared too.”
“How did she not tell me someone hurt her like that? I don’t even know when it happened? Or what happened.”
“If what’s going on in there is any indication, I don’t think many did.”
I don’t know if someone else has filled him in that she’s Kendall’s sister, or if the pieces are just falling into place. Regardless, his words tell me that Kendall apparently hadn’t known and is losing her shit as well. I glance over my shoulder to the glass slider as though I’ll be able to hear or see something. When I don’t, I slowly nod. The realization that Kendall hadn’t known relieves a small sliver of my pain and enlarges another mass as I wonder why in the hell Pedro knew. Why didn’t she confide in Kendall?
“We all have reasons for the secrets we keep. They’re not always good ones, but they’re reasons all the same.”
I take a deep breath and try to fight formulating more questions about her and what else she never told me.
I can’t seem to lose the shadow that’s been trailing me all evening. I need to settle this. I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t. I head upstairs and grab my keys and am halfway down the stairs when Landon and Jameson appear, staring at me expectantly.
“No,” Landon says, shaking his head and raising his arm to point back toward my room.
I ignore them and continue down as Jameson braces himself in the doorway.
“You can’t go after him right now, dude. You’re too pissed. You can’t even see straight. You won’t be able to stop.”
“I DON’T WANT TO STOP!” I yell in Jameson’s face.
He flinches as my temper boils over but quickly regains his composure, standing straighter so that he’s nearly as tall as I am. “Dude, you already did damage. If you go back over there now and seek him out, that would be a whole mess of charges on you: trespassing, premeditation, assault. The list goes on and on. You’re not going out there,” he warns.
I hesitate long enough for Landon to add, “You don’t want to do this, man, because if you go, we go too.”
“You’re freaking out because you’re wondering if this is part of why she left. I understand.” Kendall’s voice is thick with tears. She sniffles as she takes in another labored gasp from somewhere behind me. “I hate him too. I’ve never hated someone so much in my entire life.” I catch a glimpse of her as she steps toward me and see the tears streaming down her face.
“She never told me either, and I’m really, really …” She takes another deep breath as her tears fall. They’re coming so fast they’re not even rolling, just falling from her lashes to her shirt and the floor. I’ve seen way too many tears in the last year to notice the difference. “I’m really mad at her. She should have told us. She should have pressed charges. She should never have hid it.”
I avoid everyone, especially Erin, for a couple of days until Jameson knocks on my door, and I know by his bleak expression that his news is going to piss me off.
“She won’t talk to her about it. She won’t tell Kendall.”
My eyes narrow, feeling the anger building inside of me like a storm, causing my muscles to clench. I shrug past him, taking the stairs two and three at a time, going directly to Jameson’s room and pushing the door open hard enough it would probably swing back at me if I hadn’t raised my hand in anticipation.
“What in the hell, Max?” Kendall shrieks.
“What do you mean she won’t talk to you about it?”
“She. Won’t. Talk. About. It. Similar to how you refuse to discuss her. This should be familiar to you.”
I don’t have the patience to deal with Kendall. If she were a guy, I’d break her nose right about now, but since that isn’t an option I just yell louder.
&nbs
p; “You talked her into TPing a house, getting a tattoo, going on a cruise, and coming home for Christmas. FIND OUT!”
“Believe me, I want to know too! I don’t even know when it happened! Imagine how I feel!”
“If you wanted to know, you’d find out!”
“She won’t answer my calls, you jack ass! She’s shutting me out because she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“Back off.” Landon’s hand slams into my chest.
The unexpected pressure forces me to step away from Kendall. I’m sure he knows me well enough to discern I’d never touch her, certainly never hit her, and it pisses me off that he’s intervening. This isn’t his place.
“This isn’t your business, dude,” Landon says, his voice remaining calm as he stands tall, warning me to back off with the same thoughts I’m having about his presence.
“FUCK YOU,” I shout. Raising my hands, I shove against his chest.
He falls back a step and then shakes his head, looking down at the ground before his eyes, cold and intense, focus intently on mine. “You got rid of everything, everything related to her, even your goddammed Jeep! You gave up on her, now you’re dating Erin. You lost your right for this to be any of your business. Get out and cool down.” He applies more pressure to my chest, and my fist clenches instinctively.
“Gave up? You can’t give up on something that isn’t there!” My face burns with anger as I scream the words at him. “She left. She left! I’m still here!”
All I want to do is make him bleed. Instead, I shift my upper body and slam my fist into the wall, creating a cloud of sheet rock dust before I turn and leave. I have a small understanding of why Ace used to flee. Sometimes the temptation to get away from the problems and the memories is so overwhelming, it’s difficult not to let it guide you as far away as you can fucking get.
It’s been a week since the fight with Nate. Every day I consider going to his apartment and beating the shit out of him. Instead, I call seven people before I finally find someone that has Pedro’s phone number. He answers after the fourth ring, sounding distracted.
“It’s Miller.”
There’s a long pause on the other end.
“Pedro, I need to know what happened.”
“It isn’t my story to tell.” My jaw clenches at his reply, and I pull the phone away from my ear, squeezing it as my lips curl around my teeth. I glare at the stupid piece of plastic, wishing I could somehow inflict pain through it.
“What did he do to her?”
“If she didn’t tell you, she didn’t want you to know.”
“No one fucking knows! Kendall didn’t even know!” My voice is raised to a yell, my normal tone these days, as I chuck the remote at the wall.
“She didn’t tell anyone?” A string of profanities are quietly whispered. I wait, hoping that if I’m patient he’ll tell me.
“She told me that she’d tell someone. She promised.”
I rub my thumb and forefinger across my brow several times while pacing the short distance of my room. “When did it happen?”
“A few years ago.” I hear him sigh and mutter a few more swear words, this time in Spanish. “I don’t know, God … four years ago?”
My brain instantly traces back in time. I would have been in Alaska then. I wait silently, thinking that he’s gathering the memory to share.
“She should have told someone. I can’t believe no one knew.”
“What in the hell happened?” My patience ends as the words tumble out of my mouth.
“I can’t tell you man. I swore to her I’d never tell anyone. I already told you too much.”
My feet stop and the muscles in my neck strain to the point that they ache. “You can’t tell me someone almost raped her and then not tell me the rest of it! That’s the news. I know the end result. Now I need to know the details.”
“You need to ask her.”
I’m sure he knows I’m not talking to her. I don’t even talk to her in my dreams these days. He knew she and I are over and threw it in my face at the bar. I shake my head, about to hang up on him, when I bring the phone back to my ear.
“What happened at the funeral?”
“What are you talking about? Nothing happened at the funeral, there’s no way … you don’t have a clue do you? She didn’t cheat on you if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
Anger rises with his insinuation. “Where was she? You came back in with her. I was asking what had happened … as in where did you find her and what happened?” I enunciate the last word, being a disrespectful pain in the ass.
Pedro lets out a loud sigh and mutters something in Spanish, probably about me being a dick. “She was at her dad’s gravestone.”
“Why’d she let you comfort her? She wouldn’t let any of us near her, but you had no problem. Were you guys—” I don’t know what I’m trying to ask.
“My dad died when I was a kid. I knew what she was going through.” His words penetrate me. I want to yell that I did too, I’d lost my dad! “At least, I thought I knew what she was going through. I don’t know, Miller, I think she was having an emotional overload. I don’t know what in the hell was going on with you two, but I know a few people were talking about you guys breaking up, and how she wasn’t taking it well.”
“We weren’t broken up!”
“What in the hell were you then? Amy said she saw Ace home and alone for two weeks prior to her dad passing away and said she didn’t see any sign of you.”
Rumors were circulating about us at home? Of course they were. Everyone had been shocked to see us together and expected us to fail.
I hang up without saying another word and toss my phone on the bed so I don’t have to see the large quantity of texts and voicemails I know Erin’s left for me. I collect the remote and the back that splintered off when it hit the wall and replace the batteries before sprawling across my bed. Several channels pass before I stop on an MMA fight. My eyes follow the contenders for a few rounds, providing me with a strange sense of relief, as though I’m vicariously punching through their fists. It also serves to increase my level of tension as my muscles become more tightly wound with the desire to actually connect my fist with someone.
Then I see her.
My body jackknifes from the bed so I can get closer. As the camera pans out to the rest of the crowd, I lunge for the remote, fumbling with it as my eyes and fingers scan the buttons, trying to make sense of the same ones I push every day, unable to recall how it functions as my heart thrums in my chest. Common sense tells me there’s no way it’s her. She hates fighting. There’s no way in hell she’d go to a fight. But I swear I saw her.
I hit a few buttons to make it rewind and then hit play, scanning the screen anxiously as I step closer. Her blond hair is longer, her face still looks too thin but not nearly as gaunt as it had been in the picture Jameson showed me back in December. I’d know those eyes anywhere though. I’ve stared at them so many times, they’re burned into nearly every one of my memories, even ones she wasn’t present for.
I press pause and study her. She’s talking to a man that’s sitting beside her, laughing at something he’s saying, giving him her genuine smile. My smile.
I slump to my bed and stare at her. This man did something I couldn’t. He fixed her. He’s healing her.
My entire body aches as I sit in bed, rewinding and playing the scenes with her, time and time again.
“God, I’ve missed you,” Erin moans against my bicep from where her tongue dances across my tattoos.
Why can’t she just shut up? Why can’t I just enjoy this moment? She’s here, willing, warm, begging, and all I can do is focus on not thinking about her again.
“Kiss me, Max.”
I look at Erin’s face. Her lashes rest on cheeks that are covered with small freckles she works to conceal with makeup. I still have never seen her without makeup. She goes to sleep with it on, and then instantly reapplies it after her shower. Even when we go to the gym she has
it on, like she’s trying to hide from the world, or maybe she’s trying to hide from herself.
I press my lips to hers, desperately trying to empty my mind.
She pulls her head back and looks at me. “Max, kiss me,” she demands.
“I am kissing you.”
“I mean really kiss me.”
“It’s kissing,” I snap, sitting up.
She huffs and sits up beside me, completely comfortable with her nudity as her large breasts hang between us. I’m living the male dream here, and yet all I want to do is scream at her to leave.
“Are you seriously stopping?”
“I’m not in the mood.” This is one of the most honest things I’ve ever told her.
“Do you want me to help you get there? Because I need something here, Max. You can’t just call quits.”
Her words should have me thinking about sex, and foreplay, and what I can make her body do with my own. Instead, the word quit is running on repeat. She quit me.
“Like hell you can’t.”
“Whatever, I’m going home.”
I’m more relieved than I could have imagined when she stands to pull on her clothes.
Erin’s supposed to be my stepping stone, my distraction, but since I saw that fight, and saw her sitting in the stands, all I can do is compare the two of us and our situations.
Is she sleeping with him? Did she make him wait for any length of time? Does she say she loves him?
As Erin slams the door behind her, I hear her mutter the word quit again in an angry breath.
Quit.
If fuck is considered a bad word, quit sure as hell ought to be.
I flip on the TV and open my recordings, pulling up the MMA fight of Danny Hirsch. I’ve watched this so many times that if it were an old video cassette like the ones my grandma still has Disney movies on, it would likely be broken by now.
I lie in bed and fast forward to the parts I know she’s in. I watch her expressions, her smile. It took me several hours to of rewinding and playing short scenes of her to let the entire footage play through. It was near the end that I learned she wasn’t there because of the man sitting beside her; she was there for the fighter: Danny Hirsch.
