Love Chaos

by Ute Jackle

  I tiptoed towards the kitchen. Nobody was there, but I thought I heard a faint noise coming from somewhere in the apartment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an open door, but continued to the kitchen. I also needed to find my toiletry bag right away. That was where my painkillers were, and, boy, did I need them! I took a glass out of the cupboard—oddly enough, everything looked spotless here. While I ran the tap, I noticed the cheap Coca-Cola clock on the wall. Oh no, 11 o’clock already. I’d missed my favorite lecture: molecular genetics. What was happening to me? In the space of only one day, everything was turned upside down. I drained the glass in large gulps, refilled it, and gulped it down again like a dried-out, old sponge.

  “Well, well. Look who’s risen from the dead,” a mocking voice commented from behind me.

  As I turned around, Ben stood before me, not a hair out of place and looking no worse for wear. His white t-shirt hugged his body like a second skin. Was I mistaken, or was that a six pack? His tanned arms, contrasting with the white fabric, were firm and muscular, like an athlete’s. Was there nowhere safe from this guy? To my utter dismay, he didn’t seem hungover at all. He even looked well-rested, as if he’d gotten a good night’s sleep.

  “I guess we partied a bit hard yesterday,” I mumbled. Next to him, I felt like an earthworm that had been pulled up out of the soil.

  “You could say that. Who knew…”

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Nothing.” He shrugged, and I suddenly felt my knees starting to buckle. I needed to sit down.

  Ben walked to the sink, refilled my glass, and put it in front of me. He also set a bottle of painkillers beside it, then sat down next to me. Who had invited him to join me?

  “You didn’t stop drinking until you literally fell off your chair,” he said, staring at me expectantly. His words didn’t really make sense.

  “You don’t remember?” he asked when I didn’t react.

  “No,” I said, after opening and closing my mouth a couple of times, probably looking like a carp. What a nightmare! Why had the girls let it go so far? He dumped two pills into my palm before explaining more as I dutifully swallowed them. “I actually wanted to stop drinking and forget about the deal with the bathroom, but you wouldn’t hear of it. You called me a mama’s boy.” He rubbed his chin, and made it sound as if I’d cast a curse on him.

  No, no, no. My brain refused to process this information, but he relentlessly went on.

  “You said I was all talk and no action, and that the stupid little dimple at the corner of my mouth wasn’t going to get me out of this either.”

  Embarrassment shot through me like a lightning bolt. There was no way I had said that out loud. And if I did, I would never drink again. “I’m sure I didn’t say anything about dimples.”

  While I shook my head, Ben nodded.

  “You even said that my impossible good looks weren’t going to help me at all. You were like Darth Vader! Ice cold and unscrupulous.”

  I covered my ears and shrank into myself. “No, no, no.” Make him stop, this was pure torture. Don’t tell me I had actually fed this jerk’s already inflated ego! What had that vodka made me do?

  Unperturbed, Ben continued. “Then you made a claw-like gesture with your hand and said you were going to choke me with the power of the Force.” He imitated the gesture, shaking with laughter.

  I stared at him, my eyes as big as saucers. Fright must have been chiseled onto my face like the Ten Commandments on the stone tablets.

  “And then you fell off your chair,” Ben concluded, standing up to make coffee. He looked over his shoulder. “Would you like some?”

  I nodded, speechless. “Where...” I croaked, cleared my throat, then repeated. “Where’s Toby?” Suddenly, I didn’t feel like being alone with Ben anymore.

  “He’s out. Had a class.”

  My head was spinning. If he was busy long enough with the coffee, maybe I could grab my stuff and run away from this horrible place. Maybe I could possibly skip town while I was at it to make sure that Ben and I never crossed paths again. He seemed to sense my panic and turned around.

  “It was good fun. Really. No reason to feel embarrassed. We’ve all been there.”

  “Now that’s a relief,” I spit out and was overcome by the next scary thought. “How—how did I even get to my room?” What I actually meant was: Who had taken my clothes off?

  Ben returned to the table carrying two steaming mugs. “I guess you don’t remember anything, do you.”

  I just shook my head in silence.

  “I was good enough to…”

  “Oh, no,” I groaned miserably.

  He made a calming gesture. “We played strip poker later on, actually. It was your idea,” he added quickly when he saw my hands ball into fists. “Just kidding.” He ruffled my hair.

  “No worries. Martha carried you to your room. That girl’s strong. I wanted to help, but she said you’d kill me if you found out I’d touched you.”

  “She was right.” I nodded emphatically. Where was that famous hole in the ground that opens up and swallows you whole when you needed it?

  Ben laughed. “Come on. I’m not that bad, honestly.”

  Ignoring my snort, he went on. “Caro made your bed, and the girls undressed you and tucked you in. Toby and I looked in later to make sure you were alright. By the way, do you know that you snore?”

  Come on, he was deliberately making it worse than it was. “Only when I’ve had too much to drink.” I felt the need to defend myself. But hold on, the two guys looked in me? Why? They weren’t exactly Mother Theresas. Maybe Toby was nicer than I thought, but I had no illusions about Ben. Toby had probably made him. Ben pointed to a bag on the kitchen counter.

  “That’s your food. Caro said you only eat special stuff.”

  Great. Now it sounded like I was a spoiled, picky eater.

  “What are you studying? What’s your major?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

  He took a sip from his mug, and I took the opportunity to study his face. Objectively speaking, I could admit that he was extremely handsome. I had to give him that. However, he seemed distant. Something about him made all of my alarm bells go off. I didn’t trust him.

  “Computer science,” he answered readily.

  It sounded so normal that I was beginning to ask myself what my problem really was. To take my mind off of things, I started sipping my coffee. It tasted surprisingly good, considering who had made it.

  “What about Toby?” I asked.

  “Math.”

  Oh no. Not only were the two of them gorgeous, they were also extremely smart.

  “What’s yours?”

  “Biology.” That was enough small talk for me. “By the way, your bathroom is gross.” I got up to get a slice of my gluten-free bread, and to put some distance between us.

  “Not for long.” He grinned.

  “Forget it. I’m not cleaning up your mess.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll admit we haven’t been that great about keeping the bathroom clean.” He waved dismissively. “But it’s not a big deal.”

  Did I hear him right? Not a big deal? How could a person who obviously put a lot of effort into looking good care so little about the state of his bathroom? I was going to have to teach him a lesson, I decided, biting back a smirk.

  He got up and sauntered to the door, simply leaving his cup on the table. Who did he think was going to clean up after him? It certainly wasn’t going to be me.

  “Gotta run. I’m supposed to be at the Ark,” he tossed back over his shoulder.

  I had just taken a bite of dry rice bread. “The what?” I asked with my mouth full.

  “I volunteer as a basketball coach for the kids there, three times a week.”

  Oh. He was talking about the youth daycare center. Who would’ve thought he actually had a social conscience? As far as I knew, he wasn’t being paid for this.

  “You play basketball?” Dumb question. He’d just said he d
id. It seemed only logical, him being like six foot five and all.

  “Used to, not anymore. I tore my ACL. Now I’m just working with the kids. It’s a good cause.”

  He was right. I was beginning to feel bad for treating him the way I had. He invested a good part of his free time for the greater good, after all. Not a lot of people did that, including myself.

  “You could come with me if you want. We could use your help,” he invited me, to my surprise.

  “That’s okay,” I declined. I wasn’t going to be of use to anybody in my current state. Nodding at my chest, he remarked: “We’d never run out of balls if you were there.”

  The nerve! My shoulders tensed up. How could I have actually thought for one minute that this jerk could be nice? Before I could think of an appropriately biting retort, he walked out, laughing.

  8

  Before leaving, I’d ended up scrubbing down the bathroom after all. I needed to shower, and I was afraid I might catch something in that cesspool. Just to be sure, I wore two pairs of rubber gloves. Better safe than sorry! When I had the time, I’d do a deeper clean and disinfect things like the grout and drain. I also drew up a cleaning plan—wouldn’t want the guys to think today’s cleaning spree absolved them from doing their part in the future. In addition, I cleaned and reorganized the fridge, particularly the beer. Because it took up half the space in the fridge, I banished the lion’s share of the beer to the cupboard, and assigned each of us one of the three shelves in the fridge. My food went on the top shelf, and I labeled each item with my name to prevent the guys from taking my food. The meager rest I scattered among the two lower shelves. Let them worry about whose food was whose. That was none of my business.

  On the way to campus, I called Caro. “Why did you guys abandon me?” I accused her.

  “Excuse me? You live there now, remember?” she replied calmly.

  “I was passed out. Those guys could’ve raped me.”

  Caro giggled. “You were really out of it. I swear, you were talking big until your eyes closed and you literally fell onto Ben’s lap. If he hadn’t caught you at the last second, you’d have landed spread eagle on the floor.”

  That was definitely too much information.

  “I thought you were my friend. How could you just leave me with them like that in my condition?” I insisted.

  “Oh, come on. You’re lucky. They’re really sweet, and they promised to keep an eye on you. Besides, Martha and I wanted to go clubbing at Desi’s.”

  Fuming, I clutched my iPhone so hard that my knuckles hurt. Sweet? Those assholes got me drunk and humiliated me. Sometimes Caro had a very twisted way of seeing things.

  “I have to go.” Her voice cut through my chaotic thoughts. “I have a job interview at the gym around the corner from your new place.”

  “Since when do you go to the gym?” I asked, perplexed. Caro was at least as un-athletic as I was.

  “I’m not going there to work out. They’re looking for someone to help out on Saturday mornings. Hand out locker keys, sell energy bars; stuff like that. Martha knows the owner and got me the interview. I could definitely use the extra cash.”

  “Fingers crossed. Want to stop by afterward? I’ll be back around 5:30.”

  “Sorry, can’t. Martha’s coming over around six.”

  Right. And when Martha showed up, nothing else mattered. I felt a little pang of jealousy. Caro was my best friend, but since Martha had entered the picture, everything else came second. I didn’t remember ever ditching Caro like that because of Ringo. Not after the first six months anyway.

  “How’s your dad doing in Atlanta?” she asked, a little breathlessly. Either she was running or… I stopped that thought in its tracks. I didn’t want to think about it.

  “He’s fine. He wants to Skype later tonight. Says he has news.”

  “Okay, I gotta run…”

  “Yeah, me too. Later.” I hung up and hastily crossed the street. I was running late for my afternoon lecture. A white Mercedes sped past me, missing me by an inch. Wasn’t the driver watching where he was going?

  As one of the last students to arrive, I slipped into the lecture hall and grabbed one of the worn wooden chairs. I was hit by a lingering odor of salami in the air. The professor didn’t appreciate students being late, and he took his revenge by making the stragglers answer the most complicated questions. So far, I’d been spared this humiliating fate. Breathing heavily, I fished my pen and notebook out of my bag.

  “Just in time,” Rhashmi grinned at me. I was a little envious of the exotic almond-shaped eyes she’d inherited from her mother. In comparison, I was quite ordinary. She and I were in the same study group which met once a week. As I watched the professor take his place at the podium, I leafed through my lecture notes. I could remember quite clearly how proud I’d been when I attended my first lecture with him and had taken a seat in the front row, with Professor Naumann right in front of me. Instead of welcoming us, he’d said, “Take a good look at the people sitting to your left and right, because only one of you will end up getting your degree.”

  I joined a newly formed study group right away after that, and in the face of the rapidly dwindling number of members, I couldn’t help but admit that the professor was right. Three rows behind me, Martin waved at me wildly. I gave him a brief nod, then turned back to listen to the lecture. Good old Martin was also part of our study group. He’d skipped two grades in high school, so he fit right into our circle of over-achievers. He was interested in biology and, strangely enough, fiscal policy. Getting him to talk about any other topic was practically impossible. Professor Naumann began his lecture on protein and sugar molecules, and I took copious notes, yawning repeatedly behind the back of my hand. The professor droned on and on. Today, he wore a forest-green sweater vest, which combined with his darting movements, reminded me of a gecko. He scribbled formula after formula on the board at lightning speed. From a distance, his shirt had a slightly gray tinge to it, which made me wonder how old his clothes were. As I pondered this, his collar slipped slightly to the side, exposing a ragged-edged birthmark on his neck. I was instantly taken aback, tightened my fingers around my pen, and struggled to concentrate on the lecture, which proved nearly impossible. Why should a birthmark be so distracting? Suddenly, a dark memory threatened to resurface, making it hard for me to breathe. I mentally wrestled it back down and continued taking notes. I pressed my pen to my notebook so hard you could see the indentations on the next three pages.

  “Did you know that semen also contains sugar?” the Professor asked. His question made me flinch.

  “Then why doesn’t it taste sweet?” called out someone behind me.

  I whipped around. A pretty girl with blonde curls and big blue eyes stared at the professor expectantly. Was she really the one who’d asked that question?

  There was snickering all over the auditorium. The blonde girl looked confused, and I turned around, interested as to what the answer would be.

  The professor’s deadpan reply was, “Because the taste receptors for sugars are located on the tip of the tongue and not at the back of our throats.”

  Everybody burst out laughing. Rhashmi and I exchanged incredulous glances, and then turned around at the same time. Blondie’s face was as red as a tomato. She silently packed up her things and dashed out of the lecture hall as if she were being chased by wolves, while the professor continued like nothing had happened.

  “Think she’ll be back?” Rhashmi smirked at me.

  I shook my head, feeling bad for the girl. It was no fun to be humiliated in public. And who knew that better than me?

  9

  Martin followed us out into the hallway. He was barely taller than me. “Let’s get a cup of tea,” he suggested, bouncing after us like the Energizer bunny.

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  “I’ll come too.” Rhashmi took my arm. Her bag banged me in the back with every step. We stopped in front of the cafeteria, which buzzed with activit
y. Rhashmi peered inside.

  “Oh no, Anoob is standing at the coffee bar. Can you get me a café au lait, and I’ll find us a spot?”

  I giggled. Anoob was from India, and he kept trying to talk to Rhashmi in his native tongue. But poor Rhashmi, despite being half-Indian, didn’t speak a word of Hindi, and was too embarrassed to admit it. As she repeatedly told us, her mother had had her hands full with getting her to learn German. She seemed to think she needed to apologize for not having grown up bilingual.

  A few minutes later, I found our spot. She had actually managed to snag us an empty table at the busiest time of the day. As I passed Rhashmi her coffee, Martin sat down next to me.

  “Isn’t that the girl from the lecture?” he asked. Following his pointing finger, I saw the blonde student drop her gaze when she realized we were talking about her.

  “Why doesn’t semen taste sweet?” he repeated as he opened a packet of sugar, pouring the contents into his steaming cup. “Why would she ask such a dumb question?”