Beneath Him

by Kant, Komal

  For a second it felt like all the air had been knocked out of me. Without even exchanging words with Heather, I already knew what this meant. Why she wasn’t dressed. Why her apartment was a mess. Why some guy’s shoe was lying on the floor like it belonged there.

  “Whose is that?” Anger was slowly working its way inside of me as images began to flash through my mind of what this implied.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lie number two.

  “Don’t play dumb with me! Who does that shoe belong to? Who’s here?”

  “No one’s here.”

  Heather’s responses really weren’t helping with the anger that was threatening to explode from within me. She’d been lying to me about a lot of things and had been acting weird for months now. Really, I shouldn’t be so surprised. Why the hell was I surprised? Everything made sense now.

  All the times she couldn’t answer her phone or call me back. All the times she pulled away from me when I tried to show her affection. All the yelling and the complaining and the fighting. Everything hit me at once like a punch in the stomach.

  “You’re cheating on me.”

  She didn’t say anything; only stared back at me as though she was too scared to think of anything to say. She didn’t even have the decency to look guilty.

  “TELL ME! ARE YOU CHEATING ON ME?”

  Heather flinched as though I’d stung her, and tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking pissed off. “Don’t yell at me. You don’t scare me. And, yes, I’ve met someone.”

  “You can’t meet someone. We’re together!”

  I wanted to shake her and tell her she was psycho, but I felt so numb that even the anger had frozen inside of me.

  “Stop trying to control me. I can do whatever I want.”

  “You’re my girlfriend! We’ve been together for three years.”

  Heather gave me a look as though there was a bad smell hanging around me. “I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I’ve met someone better who actually has plans for his life.”

  “Where is he?” I was only half-listening as she spoke. “I’m gonna beat the shit out of him. Tell him to come out and face me.”

  Heather took a step forward and shoved me back hard. “Don’t even try and pull some macho bullshit here. I’ll call the police and tell them you assaulted me.”

  “You bitch,” I spat out. “How could you do this to us?”

  “No, you did this to us.” Heather pushed me back again. “Get out of here, Chase. I don’t want to see you again.”

  Somehow I found the strength not to throw something at Heather or to go further into the apartment and drag that asshole out and beat the crap out of him until he learned not to mess around with another guy’s girl.

  When I didn’t move, Heather pushed me again until I hit the wall. “GET OUT, CHASE!”

  And that was what unfroze me. I turned around and opened up the door with an unsteady hand and stumbled down the stairs.

  I wanted to get away from the familiar girl who’d suddenly become a stranger. I wanted to get away from her lies and betrayal. I wanted to get away from the heartbreak that was consuming me.

  Except I couldn’t get away. My heart was shattering, and it was over a girl who didn’t even love me.

  Chapter One

  Hailey

  My room was mostly packed up. The only things not in boxes were the belongings I wouldn't be taking with me and clothes to change into for tomorrow. Everything else was neatly labeled and stacked according to size and weight so it would be easy to load up into Braxton's truck in the morning.

  I heard my dad stomping around the bedroom next to me. I supposed I should probably tell him good-bye but I hadn't forgiven him yet and he knew it. I didn't expect him to leave the bedroom he once shared with my mother until I was officially out of here. He at least had that much common courtesy left in him.

  Braxton was supposed to be here in about an hour so I put my planner back in my purse on the practically bare desk next to the flyer advertising the Music Gala that we were attending tonight. He wanted to do something special for me since this was my last weekend living in Southlake, Kansas so I got to pick our weekly date-night activity.

  Tomorrow I would be moving into Webster Hall at Oakdale University about an hour away from here. I would have preferred to stay closer to home but Oakdale was the only nearby college that offered me a full-ride scholarship. The only condition being, I had to live on campus for the first two years. It wasn't the most ideal situation but I wasn't exactly in a position to be picky since it was my fault that I didn't choose to spend my high school years working hard to save up for college. Of course, that wasn't exactly my fault either since I was under the impression that the college fund I knew my grandmother had started for me would still be there when I was ready for it. I guess I hadn't really counted on my dad feeling entitled to what was rightfully mine. And since my dad had squandered away my college fund, I really needed that scholarship. In the grand scheme of things an hour wasn't too bad. Braxton had said he would even transfer to Oakdale next year, but for now, he needed to stay close to his family.

  I picked out a simple navy blue dress that I knew Braxton liked and paired it with some classic nude closed-toe pumps with a low heel. The dress was sleeveless and though it was warm enough outside to pull off wearing it, I knew I'd be cold in the auditorium so I grabbed a white cardigan as well. I pulled the sides of my brown hair back away from my face with some bobby pins and took a long, hard look at the girl gazing back at me in the mirror. Once I was convinced that not a hair was out of place, I made sure my purse was ready. Phone, lip balm, planner, extra pen, keys, and wallet. Everything seemed to be in order.

  I opened my bedroom door just a crack and listened carefully. The house was finally quiet so I tip-toed down the hall so I didn't wake up my father. I didn't want to have to deal with him tonight. Just one more day and I would be out of here for good. I ripped out the page from my notebook with the number for the addictions hotline. I had been trying to get him to get help for years to no avail. But despite how angry I was at him right now, I had to try at least one more time. I left the number on the table underneath his keys. He'd see it in the morning.

  I stepped out on to the porch to wait for Braxton to walk over. He had texted me earlier to tell me his mother was having a bad day but that she was finally asleep. I didn't want to disturb her so I’d decided to just wait for him here.

  Her bad days were becoming more frequent. I knew that it had to be hard on Braxton, and his dad and brother. Brad was a few years older than Braxton and was studying pre-med at KU. When their mom got sick, he decided to take a year off and come back home to help out his father. Mr. Douglas wasn't handling it very well. Not that I could really blame him. It had been rough on all of us. It's hard to watch the people you love wither away, becoming weaker by the day from the very thing that's supposed to heal them. She had started a new round of chemo a week ago and I felt like it had made her worse. She hadn't eaten or drank anything for days and any time we managed to encourage her to do so, she would end up throwing it all up until there was nothing left but bile and blood. It was awful.

  The night air was as warm as I expected so I draped my cardigan over my arms and sat down on the porch swing. I heard the sound of the door from the next house over opening and the screen door slamming shut. I closed my eyes and counted to ten in my head and when I opened them back up he was there, at the bottom of the stairs. The boy next door had been my boyfriend for the last four years but had been my best friend for much longer than that. Our pasts were so entwined that I couldn't tell you which memories were my own and which were his.

  “Sorry I'm late,” he said as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me on the top of my head in our usual greeting. “Mom got sick and Dad needed my help.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She's sleeping again but I think it's going to be a long night.”

  “Do we n
eed to stay?”

  “No, it's okay. Brad is with her now. It's your last night home for a while, we need to do something nice. Just the two of us.”

  “Okay.”

  “Though I can't believe you are forcing me to sit through a piano concert,” he said.

  “You said I could choose,” I reminded him.

  “I know. I'm just teasing you. It'll be fine.” He squeezed my hand as we walked to his .

  We rode in comfortable silence into the city just enjoying each other's familiar company. When he didn't have to shift gears, he held my hand.

  We arrived at the concert hall a few minutes after the concert started and of course, there was no parking.

  Braxton had been convinced that parking wouldn't be an issue since he just couldn’t fathom that anyone would actually willingly choose to torture themselves by sitting through a piano concert. I didn't even bother to argue with him because I knew that it would be crowded with people from the city who actually did enjoy the arts. But if there weren't whistles, a ball of some sort, and a bunch of sweaty guys slapping each other's asses, he wasn't interested.

  “Okay, so I stand corrected. Apparently these things are big deal.”

  “I told you we should've left earlier.” I tried not to snap at him, but the annoyance I felt crept into my tone anyway and he looked taken aback.

  “Hailey, look, I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

  “I told you we'd need to get here early. You just didn't want to come.”

  “We're not that late. Let's just park here and walk the rest of the way. We'll be able to catch most of the concert, right?”

  I wanted to point out that this wasn't like basketball—there were no instant replays. I'd never get to know what I missed and it sort of ruined the entire experience.

  “Yeah, sure.” I was mad and I felt bad for it. After all, if we had left earlier like I’d wanted, he wouldn't have been there to help his dad.

  It took us ten minutes to walk from our parking spot to the concert. The venue was small and there wasn't assigned seating, but when we discreetly entered the auditorium, there weren't any open seats available which forced us to stand in the back.

  There was a young guy around my age, maybe slightly older, playing the piano on stage. He had short dark hair and wore trendy glasses. He was wearing a charcoal suit and an equally dark tie. Even at this distance I could tell the musician was passionate about his music. The song he played invoked a heavy feeling of sadness mixed in with such frustration that I found myself tensing up in response. The tightness in my chest caused by his music was so strong that I couldn't tell if the emotions were my own or his. Listening to someone play with such passion was like getting a front row seat to the inner workings of their heart. I found myself instantly drawn to him. I wish we could have been closer.

  “Hailey— ” Braxton started, but I put my hand up to stop him.

  “Shh. Not now,” I whispered without looking at him. I was too mesmerized by the pianist's hands and not at all in the mood to listen to another apology from Braxton. He could wait until after the concert was over.

  I knew he didn't enjoy this sort of thing, but I thought since I never complained about the countless basketball games he dragged me along to that he would at least humor me.

  I looked through the program for the name of the pianist on stage. William C. Lancaster. I'd heard of him before. He was some sort of musical prodigy. He’d made his orchestral debut at the age of seven or something like that. I made a mental note to Google him when I got home.

  I could feel Braxton watching me and I knew that he wanted to talk, but I was intent on ignoring him until after the concert. I wasn't going to miss any more of the concert because of him.

  After the concert was over, Braxton reached for my hand as we walked out into the lobby.

  “It was good. Especially that piano guy,” Braxton said. I couldn't tell if he was just trying to suck up or if he’d actually ended up enjoying it more than he thought he would. If I had to guess, I'd say he was just sucking up.

  “Yeah, well, sorry you wasted your evening.”

  “It wasn't wasted. Just because this music stuff isn't my thing, doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy spending time with you.”

  He kissed my forehead and I felt the ice start to melt. I really didn’t want to be mad at him on my last night in town.

  “I wasn't exactly nice to you,” I said.

  “It's my fault we missed part of the concert. I wouldn't have been very nice to me either.”

  He smiled.

  “True.” I nudged him with my shoulder and couldn't help but smile a little. I was being dumb. It wasn't like he’d purposely tried to ruin my night and it wasn't exactly very considerate of me to choose an activity I knew he had no interest in. We should have just stuck with something more neutral like dinner and a movie. “William C. Lancaster was brilliant.”

  “Should I be worried?” he asked seriously.

  “Worried about what?” I asked, unsure of what he could possibly have to be worried about.

  “About you falling in love with the Piano Man.” He cracked a smile.

  “Ha, hardly.” I rolled my eyes at him. “It’s not like I’d ever have the chance to actually meet the guy,” I teased.

  “That’s reassuring.”

  I stood on the tip of my toes so I could reach his cheek and gave him a kiss. “Don’t worry about that, I tend to go for the good boy-next-door type.”

  “It’s a good thing I live next door then, huh?” He kissed me and then asked, “Wanna grab dessert somewhere?”

  “Cheesecake Factory?” I suggested. “We can grab some to take back to your mom.”

  “She won't eat it.” His face darkened and his shoulders hunched forward. “I don't know what it is, but it's different this time.”

  This was his mom's third round of chemo, but it was the strongest. I wasn't sure how much more her frail little body could take and I knew that Braxton was thinking the same thing.

  I gave his hand a comforting squeeze and smiled as brightly as I could manage. He’d been there for me after my mom had left, offering me constant support as I struggled to come to terms with being abandoned by the person who was supposed to love me unconditionally, and then of course dealing with my dad's resulting downward spiral. Braxton's family had become my unofficial adopted family. It was their home in which I spent the holidays and enjoyed family dinners. Only in the Douglas home did I feel loved again.

  “She never turns down cheesecake.” I put on my best optimistic smile. “Come on. I'm sure there is bound to be a flavor she hasn't tried yet. That's sure to spark an interest.”

  “Maybe you're right,” he replied with a dubious sigh.

  We walked the few blocks to The Cheesecake Factory hand in hand. Braxton and I ordered our usuals (cherry for me, key lime for him) then we picked out a sinful looking caramel apple cheesecake for his mom. Before she’d gotten sick, it had been a game for her to try a different kind every time she came here. I hoped the memory of that tradition would perk her up enough to enjoy at least a few bites.

  It was after midnight by the time we made it back to Southlake. Braxton walked me to my door and kissed me goodbye.

  “I'll put this in the fridge and try to get her to eat it for breakfast in the morning.”

  “I hope she's okay.”

  “Me too.” He sighed and then pulled me into his arms for another long hug. “I don't know what I'm going to do without you.”

  “You'll still have me. I'll just be a little further away than the house next door.”

  “I know, but it won't feel the same,” he said almost sadly. “I feel like everything is going to change.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don't know. I'm being dumb. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  As I entered my dark and quiet house, I couldn't help but agree that everything was about to change. My
whole life was about to change. I felt like I had been trapped in a cage for the last few years and tomorrow, I'd finally break free.

  Chapter Two

  Chase

  Choices.

  Choices were what had led me to this low point in my life. A bunch of messed up, fucked up choices that had set me on a destructive, down-spiraling path for life.

  Well, according to my parents, anyway.

  “You could be doing so much more with your life. You’re not unintelligent, Chase.” My dad sat at the head of the table, drinking one of his expensive wines out of an equally expensive, fancy wine glass as he told me all the things I’d done wrong in my short, twenty years in this world.

  Mom sat to the right of Dad, the elegant bun on her head bobbing as she nodded in agreement at his words. “Your father’s right, dear.”

  As I stared back at my parents, I couldn’t help noticing how much I resembled both of them. Dad’s dark brown hair and angular jaw; Mom’s hazel-green eyes and olive complexion. It was amazing that I was nothing like either them.

  “Yeah, whatever,” I said with a shrug. I’d heard the same crap over and over again for years so it wasn’t like any of this was new to me.

  My older sister, Cecilia, was on Dad’s left, also dressed impeccably in a navy knee-length skirt and a white blouse. She was fidgeting with her wavy, brown hair—that was the exact shade as mine—looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

  Hell, I’d rather be getting my wisdom teeth pulled out than be sitting here at Sunday lunch with my parents. It had become this stupid tradition in our family ever since I’d moved out after graduating high school. It was like my parents thought that eating together once a week would magically turn us into a normal family who liked each other.

  Mom and Dad were a unit who agreed on everything, especially when it came to me and all the wrong choices I’d made for myself, starting with my decision to major in Music at Oakdale University. It had been two years and they still weren’t over it.

  The other thing they really couldn’t get over was my choice to be the lead singer of Set the Flames, the pop punk band my best friend, Jonathan Flick, and I had started together as juniors in high school.