by S. Walden
“We’re back to this?” Gracie cried. “They didn’t! I wanted to fuck them, okay?!”
A few heads turned in their direction.
“And I don’t need you to judge me for it!”
“That’s rich coming from you,” Cadence said.
Gracie shot her a nasty look.
“Come on, Gracie! You judged the hell out of me all senior year for being immoral. Can’t you, at least, try to see the irony in this?”
“Fuck you.”
“I rest my case.”
“Leave it alone, and leave me alone!”
“All right. I’m just saying that I woke up with a bad feeling,” Cadence explained.
“Well, that’s your problem!” Gracie barked. She gathered her books and stormed off.
Cadence took a seat on the bench Gracie just vacated and reflected on her ex-best friend’s words: “That’s your problem.” Perhaps. Perhaps it was her problem. Didn’t erase the aching in her chest when she woke up in the morning. Something was wrong. Call it feminine intuition, divine understanding, whatever. Something was off. And that something had to do with Gracie.
Of course, Cadence also had to consider the possibility that she’d let one too many Lifetime movies shape her picture of frat parties. After all, people could have orgies and it not be rape. But what happens when the girl is trashed out of her mind and the boys aren’t? Don’t the boys have the unfair advantage? And if so, doesn’t that change the picture?
“OMG. Hello?” an exasperated voice said.
Cadence snapped her head up and shielded her eyes against the sun.
“You were supposed to meet me at the union,” Avery huffed.
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry.”
“And, was I hallucinating or did I just see you talking with Gracie?”
“I was talking with Gracie,” Cadence replied. She gathered her bags and walked with Avery towards Bleecker Hall.
“Um, why?”
“I just needed to clear something up with her,” Cadence said.
“Like why she’s such a fucking bitch?”
Cadence cracked a smile. “Something like that.”
“Are you trying to be friends with her again?” Avery asked. Her tone suggested mild alarm.
“Seriously, Avery?”
“Well, how the hell should I know? It looked like a long conversation.”
“Were you watching us the whole time?”
“So what if I was?”
Cadence’s grin turned into a full-set-of-teeth-showing smile. “You were jealous!”
“Get over yourself,” Avery said dismissively.
“You were totally jealous,” Cadence replied, nudging her friend.
“Oh my God. Whatever.”
“You want me all to yourself, and you were afraid I was trying to work things out with Gracie because you’re a jealous jellybean and—”
“What the fuck is a jealous jellybean?” Avery asked, laughing. “Cadence, you’re such a weirdo.”
Cadence giggled.
“I can’t imagine you’d try to work anything out with her after what she did to you,” Avery said, opening the door for her friend.
They grabbed sandwiches and found an empty table near a window overlooking the outdoor amphitheater.
Cadence shoved a straw in her Coke. “I have to forgive her at some point.”
“What?”
“I can’t just carry around all this hate for the rest of my life,” Cadence explained. “And anyway, forgiving her wouldn’t really be for her anyway. It’d be for me.”
Avery bit into her sandwich. “I think she needs to get run over by a truck,” she said with her mouth full.
“Avery, come on.”
“Well, something bad oughta happen to her. Seems fair to me,” Avery replied.
Cadence tensed then bit into her own sandwich. She wanted to change the conversation.
“Have you heard from Gavin?” she asked.
“Why would I?” Avery replied.
“I dunno. You guys dated all last year. He hasn’t even tried to get in touch with you?”
Avery shook her head.
“Why?”
“Because I’m too complicated.”
“He’s a jerk,” Cadence said.
“They usually are.” Avery wiped her mouth and eyed Cadence carefully. “You feel sorry for me, don’t you?”
“What?”
Avery’s lips curled into a grin. “You feel sorry for me because I don’t have a boyfriend.” She burst out laughing. “God, you’re one of those girls.”
“Shut up! I’m not one of those girls! And I could care less if you have a boyfriend,” Cadence snapped.
“I don’t know how I’ll go on, Cadence,” Avery said dramatically. “If I don’t have a boyfriend, there’s just no point to any of this.”
Cadence rolled her eyes.
“I mean, why even get up in the morning? Why shower? My life is so—” She paused for effect, then whispered, “—pathetic.”
Cadence stared at her friend. “Are you done?”
“Seriously, the only thing I miss is getting laid,” Avery said. “I think sex helps me function better.”
Cadence blushed and hung her head.
“And I guess sex helps you function better, too,” Avery observed.
Cadence shrugged.
“How many times a week do you guys do it?”
“Not your business.”
“Oh, come on. We’re best friends. It’s code. You have to tell me.”
“But it’ll just make you feel even more pathetic,” Cadence teased.
Avery giggled. “Oh, I don’t care. Just tell me. And give me some details.”
“What? So you can masturbate to them when you get home?”
Avery’s eyes went wide. And then she put her hand in the air. “Freaking. Awesome,” she said as Cadence slapped it.
“I learn from the best,” Cadence replied. “And we do it every night.”
“Bitch.”
“You asked.”
“What about when you’re on your period?”
“We don’t do it then,” Cadence said, crinkling her nose.
“So not every night.”
Cadence smiled patiently. “No, Avery. Not every night.”
“So what do you guys do?”
“I’m so not giving you details.”
“Oh, stop being such a tight ass prude and just tell me something. And if you say you only do it missionary style, I’m gonna barf all over this table.”
“There are other ways to do it?”
Avery grinned. “Clever cunt,” she said, and Cadence burst into a fit of giggles.
“We do it under the covers with the lights off.”
“Sounds like you,” Avery replied.
Cadence chuckled. “Actually he straps me down to the bed and pours hot wax all over my body.”
“Ha! I knew Mr. Connelly was a kinky motherfucker.”
Cadence laughed. “When are you gonna stop calling him ‘Mr. Connelly’?”
“Maybe never. I find it hilarious.”
Cadence shifted in her seat. Avery noticed.
“Not hilarious that you two are together,” she added. “Just hilarious because—” She paused. “—well, because I imagine it’d annoy the crap out of him.”
“You plan on testing this out the next time you see him?” Cadence asked.
“Most def.”
“Do you think it’s ridiculous that we’re together?” Cadence asked softly.
“Are you kidding me? I think you two couldn’t be more perfect for each other. You make each other happy. Tie-downs and wax and all.” Avery winked.
“Your parents don’t suspect that we see each other? I mean, they have to know I go to school here,” Cadence said. “Aren’t they worried?”
“Talk about a subject change. There wasn’t even like a segue or anything.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Cadence checked the time.
“And only a few more minutes to spare.”
“They don’t know we’re friends,” Avery explained.
“How?”
“I told them I’d never speak to you again after what you did to me.”
Cadence stared at her.
“They believed me. They made sure to tell me I deserved it for lying to them, but they believed me.”
“I really don’t like your parents,” Cadence mumbled.
“Yours aren’t all that great either,” Avery pointed out.
“You find that ironic?”
“Why? Because they’re supposed to be these good-hearted Christians?” Avery asked.
Cadence nodded.
“No. Christians are no better than anybody else,” Avery said.
“But aren’t they supposed to try to be good people?”
“I think they’re just supposed to be forgiven.”
“So that pardons any judgment they pass or gossip they spread?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t get it.”
“Look it. I haven’t cracked open my Bible in two months. You’re gonna have to consult an expert on this one.” She thought for a moment. “No, wait. I did crack open my Bible last week to read Song of Solomon, and that’s only because I’m so damn horny right now.”
Cadence burst out laughing. “You read the Bible for smut?”
Avery giggled. “My freaking Kindle’s broken. I can’t access any of my go-to books.”
“Oh my God. You’re like the only Christian I know who’s going to hell.”
“Nope. You’re coming right along with me, sister,” Avery said, her eyes sparkling. “Sex outside of marriage. Bad, bad girl.” She shook her head.
“Yeah, well this bad bad girl is gonna be late for work if she doesn’t leave now,” Cadence said.
“I’m still spending the night next Friday, right?”
Cadence nodded as she gathered her bags.
“Thank God,” Avery said. “I need to get out of that house.”
“Oh, I have a whole fun girls’ night planned for us,” Cadence replied.
“Won’t Mr. Connelly be there?”
“I’m making him hide in our bedroom. Actually, I think he’ll prefer to hide.”
Avery grinned. “Just as long as he buys us booze first.”
Cadence laughed. “You’re so bad.”
“Cadence, don’t you realize how awesome it is that you’re dating a 28-year-old? You probably drink it up all the time, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Shoot. I would. I’d probably be an alcoholic by now.”
“Are you coming or what?” Cadence asked. She hovered over the table waiting for Avery to pack her bag.
“No. I’m gonna stay here and study for a while,” Avery replied.
“Okay. I’ll see you later,” Cadence said. She turned and started walking, then paused at the sound of Avery’s voice.
“Cadence!”
She turned around. “Yeah?”
Avery smiled. “You’re the only one who really gets me.”
Cadence smiled back.
“Just wanted you to know that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Cadence nodded, then left for work.
“Will you calm down?” Mark asked, stirring the sauce.
Cadence flitted about the kitchen in a frenzy—taste-testing the lemonade she made, pulling plates from the cupboard.
“Where are those cloth napkins I just bought?” she asked.
“We need cloth napkins? This is Dylan we’re talking about,” Mark replied. He rolled his eyes.
“Yeah. And his girlfriend. I’ve never met her.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t care about cloth napkins.”
“Just tell me where I put them!” Cadence demanded.
Mark turned around and looked at her. She was wrapped in the same black apron she always wore since the first time they cooked together. This time, however, she wasn’t naked underneath. Her hair was pinned back, and it made her look older. He knew that was her goal—a mature look for what she concocted in her brain was supposed to be a mature dinner. She’d hung out with Dylan several times. He wasn’t quite sure what all the fuss was about.
“They’re in the pantry,” he said.
He watched her set the table, then turned his attention to the buzzing timer. He pulled the garlic bread from the oven, and she gave him a bread bowl.
“I have a bread bowl?” he asked.
“We have a bread bowl. I bought it the other day,” Cadence replied.
He grinned and said nothing.
The doorbell rang, and Cadence jumped.
“I didn’t light the candles!” she cried, dashing into the living room with a box of matches. “Wait!”
Mark’s hand hovered over the doorknob.
“Cadence, seriously?” he whispered.
“Just wait!” she hissed, moving quickly from candle to candle until all four were lit.
“Now?” he asked.
She ran back to the kitchen, threw away the used matches, and tore off her apron.
“Now, Cadence?!” Mark called from the other room.
She turned the corner and asked, “Do I look okay?”
The doorbell rang a second time.
He ignored the sound and stared at his girlfriend. She was so pretty and flustered and sexy that he thought about opening the door and telling their dinner guests to get lost—that he had business to take care of. And it involved Cadence and a dining room table.
“Beautiful,” he replied and watched her light up. He opened the door, and Dylan shoved past him.
“Dude,” he said, “what the hell took so long?” He hightailed it to the bathroom while his girlfriend stood in the living room, unsure where to put her purse.
Mark had never met her. This was a new girlfriend—one in a long line of them—and he wondered how many weeks she’d hang on before she was replaced. He knew she was a daddy’s girl. Dylan told him that. Dylan told him a lot about her, actually—things she’d be pissed to know he knew.
“Portia,” she said, extending her hand to Mark. He shook it and smiled.
“Mark,” he replied. “And this is my girlfriend, Cadence.”
Cadence waved from the dining room then excused herself to rinse the linguini. Dylan emerged from the bathroom and took Portia’s purse, tossing it onto the couch.
“Hey, Cadence!” he called.
“Hi, Dylan!” Cadence called back.
“Remind me how you two know each other? Is it through Mark?” Portia asked, walking into the dining room.
“Yeah,” Dylan said.
“I met Dylan at his record store,” Cadence said.
“Oh, Mark took you there?” she asked.
Dylan cleared his throat. “He—”
“No, I went there on my own. Mark suggested I go there to listen to records,” Cadence explained.
Mark shot Dylan a look that said, “What the hell? You didn’t tell her?”
Dylan mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t Mark go with you?” Portia asked.
Cadence laughed. “We weren’t really at that point in our relationship yet where we could go places together.” She paused. “Okay. Everything’s ready. You guys are okay with chicken alfredo, right? Mark was supposed to call you and ask.”
“It’s fine,” Portia replied dismissively. “Now what do you mean about not being at that stage in your relationship?”
Mark spoke up. “I thought maybe—”
“He was my teacher,” Cadence said absently. “Dylan told you.” She stood at the stove carefully pouring the chicken mixture over the noodles.
Portia looked shocked. She turned to Dylan then Mark.
“Your teacher? Like professor?”
Cadence froze, realization dawning. Dylan never told Portia. He was supposed to tell her, to save Cadence from feeling ashamed. Like she did just now. She stared at the four plates li
ned up on the counter. She had placed a tiny parsley sprig on the edge of each plate for decoration, and now she thought it was silly—like she was trying too hard to be older than her eighteen years.
“We met Cadence’s senior year,” Mark explained.
“Oh. What did you major in?” Portia asked, looking at Cadence.
Questions, questions. The girl was full of them.
“High school,” Mark clarified. “We met in high school.”
Silence.
“I forgot to put the music on,” Cadence mumbled. “I’ll be right back.”
She excused herself from the kitchen and hurried to the bedroom. She didn’t shut the door. She approached the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and looked at herself. It wasn’t Portia’s fault, she thought. She was clearly reacting the way anyone else would. That didn’t alleviate the excruciating embarrassment Cadence felt, but she understood.
She studied her hair—the way she pinned it back, off her neck in a messy bun. She wanted to look older and realized she hated it. She pulled the pins out and dropped them to the floor, letting her hair tumble about her shoulders in soft waves.
She pulled a tissue from a box on her nightstand and wiped her lips. Just an hour before she liked the color—a bright red that reminded her of a 1950’s housewife. At the time she thought she wouldn’t mind being Mark’s housewife. Now she saw a garish, unflattering color.
She knew they were talking about her. She could make out the harsh whispers in the other room. She knew she’d have to reemerge eventually, invent a reason why she took her hair down. She needed to decide on a CD, too. After all, she said she was going to play some music. She’d do all of those things, but for the moment she needed to stand in front of the mirror and own her embarrassment. Where no one but her reflection could see.
She took a deep breath, then marched down the hall in a cheery gait.
“Sorry about that,” she said to the group at the table. “Those pins were hurting my hair.” She patted her head and smiled. “Any music suggestions?”
“Your choice,” Dylan replied.
Cadence scanned the table. Portia was busy pouring herself a glass of wine. A second glass of wine, actually. And avoiding Cadence’s eyes. Apparently Cadence wasn’t the only one who felt embarrassed. Mark sat biting his nails—a nervous habit. Obviously he felt it, too. Dylan shoveled food in his mouth because it didn’t occur to him to wait to eat until she returned. His plate was nearly empty. No embarrassment on his end. She rolled her eyes and walked to the stereo. She searched the CD collection until she came across a Linkin Park album.
