Текст книги "Forgive Us Our Trespasses"
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Vivian
I was a little pissed at first when Campbell let Brooks ruin our little roommate bet. But after experiencing the new Brooks this week, I now consider it a small price to pay for his dedouchefication. This entire week he has done things to be helpful and has shown me that he can care about something other than getting laid. Will even told me that he hasn’t been out drinking or on a date since he had his Campbell intervention.
I don’t know what she did or said, but the results have been impressive. A few different days this week, when I got back from class, there were poems or different kinds of red flowers either taped to our white board, or stuck in our mailbox in the commons area. He and Will hung up and passed out flyers for Campbell’s concert. He even helped Carly study for her algebra test–the guy freaking knows math. I, however, have to use a calculator to figure out a twenty percent tip on a ten-dollar ticket. He has been a completely different person; the problem is, I don’t know which version is the one I should believe in. This change in him, though, actually has me excited to spend a little time with him tonight at the concert. The overabundance of pretty girls in one place will be a true test of whether this transformation is only skin deep or not.
I frantically look at the time on my phone and then shove my style guide and notebook into my backpack. When I see how late I am for class, I let out a long groan and grab my keys. Jen took over the bathroom this morning, so I look a little less than stellar today. I just love being late for class, especially when I have to walk in with yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and my hair in a ponytail. At least after a half-hour of pounding on the bathroom door, I was finally able to get in long enough to brush my teeth.
I consider her one of my closest friends, but you can certainly tell that she has lived a spoiled, privileged life, one that didn’t require her to think of mundane things like picking up after yourself or sharing a bathroom. Our parents knew each other when we were little, but her father moved onto bigger and better things, starting with being elected into the state Senate. The result: she is fiercely loyal and a great friend, but she could use some help in the roommate department.
I rush through the door, throwing my bag over my shoulder when I notice Brooks leaning on the cinder block wall in between our doors. “I was starting to wonder if you were going to ditch class today,” he says, pushing off the wall and reaching for the straps of my bag. I allow him to take it off, and we both head toward the elevator. “Jen hogged the bathroom this morning. You didn’t have to wait for me,” I tell him, unable to hide my surprise that he didn’t take off without me.
He laughs and pushes the button for the lobby. “I know I didn’t have to wait for you; I wanted to. We have walked together every day this week, why would I ditch you today? I was going to give you a few more minutes, then I was going to come knocking. I was just hoping that you didn’t leave early.”
I pull my eyebrows together, offended that he would think I would stand someone up. “I wouldn’t do that,” I say, reaching to take my backpack back. He swings it away from me, not allowing me to have it.
“I didn’t say that I thought you would; I just hoped that I didn’t miss my chance to walk with you.”
I cool down, letting the last part of his statement sink in. “Sorry,” I mutter, leaning against the back wall, waiting for the doors to open. I close my eyes and allow my nose to enjoy the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It’s a mixture of sandalwood and apples; you can’t help but want to get close and smell him, but I’m pretty sure that would be frowned upon in most social settings.
“It’s okay; I get it. You think that is something I would do, and you don’t want to be put in the same category. I don’t blame you; I haven’t exactly shown you otherwise.” He then turns away from me and looks up at the lights indicating the descending floors. Dammit, that is precisely what I thought, but hearing it out loud makes me feel like the biggest bitch imaginable. I don’t have anything to say that would help me to regurgitate my foot, and I see no point in trying to lie to him just to make him feel better. So when the doors open, I do the only thing that I think will help; I bump his shoulder with mine, propelling him slightly forward, and when he looks at me for an explanation, I smile and jerk my head in the direction of our lecture building. When he smirks and moves out of the elevator, I know that I’ve been forgiven.
By the time we reach the courtyard outside of our dorms, we have less than ten minutes to get to our class that is a fifteen-minute walk away. We start with a speed walk, but our pace soon turns into an all-out run to get there on time. I suddenly don’t feel so bad about the yoga pants and sneakers. I consider myself in relatively decent shape, but when we reach the lecture hall entrance, I am sucking in air. My ribs feel like there are ninjas combating the forces of evil with swords on them, and my lungs refuse to adequately take in oxygen. I lean down, resting my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath. I look up at Brooks, whose appearance is pristine. There are no signs of fatigue, lack of breath…his damn collared-shirt isn’t even wrinkled, the bastard.
He grabs my arms and gently pulls me down the hall, encouraging my feet to continue moving, even though they feel like they have been dried in cement. We make it to the lecture hall with a minute to spare, and I finally pull myself together enough so that I can at least sneak into the back of the room and hide behind my notebook for most of the hour.
Brooks opens the door for me, and I’m met with only two available seats, one in the front row and one about halfway back. I typically don’t give a crap where I sit; but considering my appearance today, and our professor’s tendency to call on students in the front row, I absolutely care today. “Go ahead and take the seat in the back, Vivian,” Brooks whispers, handing me my backpack. “I’ll take my turn in the hot seat.” He winks and nudges me to the back of the row and then slides into his seat. I wiggle through the sea of chairs and dodge the awkward glances. I can read their minds, ‘What is this mess doing with that package of male perfection?’ Class today is turning into a major self-esteem booster.
Dr. Vauldin glides into the room, throws his brief case on the lectern, and scans the room, no doubt searching for his victims of the day. His class is the most wretched thing to have to sit through–boring as hell and it is a struggle to stay awake. So, he punishes us all by randomly calling on students to answer questions. There’s no such thing as a raised hand in this room; everyone is eligible to be his prey.
“Alright, guys, we won’t be here the entire fifty minutes today,” Vauldin announces in a low monotone voice. Hushed “thank fucks” and “yeses” reverberate through the room. I remain still and silent, not wanting to attract attention to myself. I remember Jurassic Park; T-Rex couldn’t see you if you didn’t move, and I’m hoping this dinosaur falls into the same classification as old Rex.
“You there, in the Bronco sweatshirt,” he says, pointing in my direction. I point to myself and he nods, “Yeah, you, please come pass these assignment sheets out.” Nope, not T-Rex, he must be one of those damn Velociraptors.
Like the sacrifice of the Lottery Rose, I sluggishly begin to move out of my chair. Here I thought I was going to just hide myself this morning and could get ready for the day during my break between classes; now I’m being called to the front of the class to my own social suicide.
“Sir, I can pass them out,” Brooks shouts, bouncing out of his seat. He snatches the papers from Vauldin and begins passing them out before our professor can respond. Vauldin shrugs and continues on with his explanation of the assignment. I sink back into my chair, feeling something that I never thought I would for Brooks Ryan–grateful.
Professor Vauldin quickly clarifies the requirements for our task, and we are released. Everyone files out, but I wait until they are all gone to leave. I don’t consider myself a vain person, but my mother taught me well enough to know how to be presentable in public, and I am not anywhere close to those standards. Brooks is waiting for me in the hallway, and I relax at the sight of him.
“Thank you for doing that in there; I really do appreciate it,” I tell him, setting my bag down and adjusting my ponytail holder.
“It was no big deal, really. It’s been a rough morning for you, and I said I was taking my turn in the hot seat. I’m pretty sure that includes passing out papers.” He bends down and takes my bag like before. It’s a small gesture, but it pulls at my heart a little. I can’t picture Brooks even holding the bathroom door open for Sondra Slut McFunbags, but here he is carrying my backpack all over campus.
“Well, anyway, thank you. Right now I just want to go back and take a long hot shower, and wash this morning off of me.” We step outside and begin the fifteen-minute walk back. I’m half-tempted to run again, just so that as few people as possible will see me in the condition I’m in, but the memory of rib ninjas is too fresh.
“So, who are you going to write about for the paper?” Brooks asks about five minutes into the walk. The prompt is to write about someone that has impacted our lives so drastically that we are different people because of them, or the things they’ve done. I get that the assignment is meant to be a self-reflection on the type of people we have become and why–hell if I don’t want to do it though. My father’s death and how my mother has handled it all of these years, I know has been the root of a lot of my issues. I’m not so blind as to not see that. However, that doesn’t mean that I’m excited to tell the raptor all about it in a stupid three-page paper.
“I don’t know; I guess I’ll have to think about it a little bit,” I shrug.
Brooks is silent for a moment, staring at the ground as we walk. The arrogant shell that he’s usually encapsulated in seems cracked, if even for a moment. “Yeah, me too,” he says, still examining the sidewalk. He’s lying. He has issues, too and probably because of the same people in his life.
“Fuck,” he sighs under his breath, just loud enough that I hear. When he finally looks up, his pace slows for a second, and then he starts walking at warp speed. I have to almost run to keep up. I follow his gaze to a girl walking towards us. I figure it would be safe to assume it’s another previous conquest. Her perfectly coordinated outfit, heels clicking against the cement, and her gorgeous flat-ironed blonde hair scream money. She notices us approaching and she straightens her back, flashing us a fake smile that would give Miss America a run for her money.
She blocks our path, demanding that we stop. Now that I’m close enough, I see the icebergs in her ears that I guarantee are not Target knockoffs, and the white gold ‘S’ necklace around her neck confirms that she’s wealthy. The necklace also tells me that she’s in the Sigma Sorority. Jen had the opportunity to rush the sorority because she is a legacy; her mother was a Sigma. She refused to join though; she said they are rich and mean.
“Brooks, it’s been a few weeks; where have you been hiding?” she asks, not bothering to even acknowledge my presence. I’m common folk in yoga pants, not worthy of her time. Jen was right, rich bitches.
“Around.” His tone is clipped and uninterested. He refuses to give her the attention that she is seeking, and I am more than thankful. “Um, Amber, this is my friend Vivian. Vivian, this is Amber Jennings. Our fathers know each other from business transactions.”
I try to remember my manners and hold out my hand to shake hers, but she gives me the once over like I might give her some kind of contagious infection and rolls her eyes. “Anyway, we need to get together again sometime; we have some unfinished business to attend to,” she says, directing her attention back to Brooks, leaving me with my arm outstretched. I snap it back to my side in an attempt to save at least a little dignity.
“Yeah, well, we are late for our next class. See you around.” Brooks puts his arm around me and pushes past her. Her expression is a mixture of horror and disgust, and I absolutely take it personally.
“I’m sorry she was like that to you,” Brooks says, dropping his arm from my shoulder when we are a safe distance from Amber, the sorority twat-waffle.
“What do you mean? She was a delight,” I sarcastically retort. He laughs, but then regains a serious posture.
“No, really, she’s a bitch. I only know her because of my stepdad. We kissed once and she thinks that it means we’re going to have a relationship. I’m sure her father would love that; it would be a business merger of sorts. But I have no interest in her, and my family already knows I have no intention of taking over the business.”
“So what do you want to do then? Aren’t your parents disappointed about that?” I ask the question, but immediately regret it; it’s personal and intrusive. I never appreciate personal questions like that, and I feel like Brooks is similar in that regard. “I’m sorry; you don’t have to answer that. I’m being a little nosy.”
Brooks abruptly stops and I look around, preparing myself for another brat pack bombardment. When I see no one near us, I look at him, waiting for an explanation. “Vivian, I understand that you don’t know me very well, and I don’t know a lot about you, but I hope to change that. No, I don’t share a lot with many people, but you’re not just anyone to me. Never apologize for asking me something, okay?”
My shock causes all words to lodge in my throat, and I simply nod. No one has ever said anything like that. I’ve never gotten close enough to anyone to have any honest personal conversations. My roommates and Will probably know me the best, and even they haven’t ever heard everything about me.
He nods back and grabs my hand. Though he doesn’t lace our fingers together like I’m expecting–like a boyfriend would do with a girlfriend–he holds my hand like a friend would. I look down at our conjoined hands, letting the tingling feeling in my fingers shoot up my arm until I feel those tingles in my stomach. “Come on, let’s get you back so you can clean up,” he says, squeezing my hand.
Brooks drops me off at my door and promises to stop by later before the concert. I quickly shower before my next class, and go through the rest of my day with thoughts of Brooks, my reflective paper, and a phone call home I would need to make to complete it. All of it is plaguing me. It will take a good amount of guts to call my mother to have the discussion about my father that is long overdue, and it will take even more fun activities, and possibly alcohol, to revive myself afterward.
Brooks
This has been the best fucking day ever; well, besides the brief encounter with the she-devil Amber Jennings. Vivian seems to be opening up more to me, and I even held her hand. I know, big fucking deal; I’m not fourteen, and this isn’t junior high. But with Vivian, I’ll take what I can get, and to hold her hand felt so damn good. I’ve spent extra time this evening picking out the right outfit and making sure my hair is just right. Shit, I might need to worry less about Will and check my own vag-status.
I’m running the last bit of gel through my hair when I hear a soft knock at the front door. I swiftly wash my hands and dry them on my shower towel to answer the door. When the door swings open, all of the light and fluffy feelings I had two minutes ago evaporate, and my heart drops in to my stomach.
“I’m sorry, is Will here?” Vivian sniffles and attempts to hide her smeared mascara and rosy cheeks. Her efforts are fruitless; she is a total wreck. I scowl, thinking someone has hurt her and that she needs Will to beat someone’s ass. I peer into the hallway, looking for the culprit, only to find it empty. “What happened? Whose ass do Will and I need to kick?”
“No one.” She tries to laugh through her tears. “I just needed to talk to someone, and the girls are already gone.”
My jealousy and rage spike. I contain myself out of respect for her obvious fragile state, but I’m pissed that she came here looking for him, and didn’t bother to think of me. “He’s not here; he left early to help Campbell set up.” My tone sounds surprisingly calm, considering how my insides are vibrating from my disappointment.
“Oh, that’s right; I knew that. Sorry to bother you.” Her eyes build with tears, and she looks down to avoid me seeing them. She turns to walk back to her room, and I stow away any of my damaged pride, realizing I don’t want her to leave. “Wait, Red,” I say, reaching for her elbow. “I know I don’t compare to Will, but I would really like it if you came in. If you feel like talking, great; if not, that’s okay, too. We can watch a movie or something to help you get your mind off of whatever is going on.”
“What about the show? You look like you are all ready to go; I don’t want to ruin your evening.”
“Vivian, for being one of the smartest people in our little group, you sure can be clueless sometimes,” I tell her. “The only reason I was going tonight was to hang out with you, and if you’re not going, then I have no interest in being there.”
She pauses, evaluating either my offer or how I feel about her. Frankly, I don’t give a shit, as long as I can convince her to come over. I begin to fidget with my shirt, worried that she might actually decide it would be better to go home and be alone than spend the evening with me.
Just when I don’t think I can take another second of indecision, she walks past me into my room. I exhale and give myself a second to figure out what to do next. I didn’t really think about what would come next; I was too worried about getting her to stay. I’ve never had a girl here. This is my safe zone, and she’s not here in a hook-up capacity, which makes this even more foreign to me.
I walk back into the living room, expecting to see her on my couch having a complete emotional breakdown. Thankfully, she’s in the bathroom, which gives me a few more minutes to collect myself. I grab two glasses and a bottle of tequila and set them on the coffee table. I then review our collection of DVDs and pull out a few of our girliest movies. I end up with only one, Dumb and Dumber. I figure at least it’s a comedy, and it will make her laugh if nothing else.
I hear her blow her nose, followed by the bathroom doorknob turning. I hustle to the couch and take a seat, hoping that I appear relaxed without looking overzealous. I pour us each a drink when I see her just standing in the hallway unsure of what to do next. I stand, taking it to her. “It looked like you could maybe use this,” I say, placing the glass in her hand.
She offers a tight-lipped smile and takes a small sip of the liquor. Instantly she begins to choke, and her eyes tear up from the burn. I pat her on her back, but she waves me away. “I’m alright,” she chokes out. I grab her a bottle of water from the fridge and she guzzles the cool liquid to ease her throat.
“Come on. I picked out a movie; find a spot and get cozy.” I direct her to the couch and head to the DVD player to get the movie started. Our couch is not covered like theirs, and I notice the look she gives it before she sits down. “I never bring girls here, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I tell her before continuing my work on the film preparation.
“No…well yeah, sorry,” she stutters as she sits down. I want to be offended, but I laugh instead; she smiles back, letting me know that her anxiety is slowly fading. “I always sit in the recliner when I’m over here with Will. I guess I just assumed that the couch has seen a lot of action. I’m sorry, that really is kind of shitty of me to think.”
I push play and return to the couch, sitting on the opposite side, not wanting to seem presumptuous. “No, it’s fine; I would think it would be a safe assumption. But really, you’re the first girl I’ve ever invited to my dorm room. Now I can’t confirm the amount of upholstery cleaning that occurs between years; who knows the history of this bad boy?” I say, patting a cushion. When I really evaluate what I could be rubbing my hand over, I pull it away with a look of disgust that matches Vivian’s. “Maybe a couch cover isn’t such a bad idea. I’m never out here; when I’m home, I usually watch movies in my room.”
“Is it a hygienically safer place? And do you promise to keep your hands to yourself if we watch the movie in your room?” she asks skeptically. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t feel confident being alone in a bedroom with me either if I was a girl. I would usually show off my best moves and lay the charm on thick, but right now, I have no desire to go that route with her. Scratch that—desire, yes, but my conscience wouldn’t allow it.
“I promise this is an evening on friendly terms only. I wouldn’t sleep with you tonight, even if you begged.” I stand, gathering the glasses and alcohol and hand them to her. She grips onto the bottle and waits for me to eject the movie. She then tentatively follows me to my room, and I close the door behind us. “Go ahead and sit anywhere,” I tell her, taking everything from her and sitting it on the minuscule desk in the corner of the room. Without having a roommate, I was able to rearrange a bit to make my room a little more comfortable and spacious. That included taking down the extra bed and replacing it with a chair and small desk.
She takes off her shoes and crawls up onto my bed. I try to ignore that she is, in fact, sitting on my bed, because this fabulous idea of mine is proving to test every molecule of willpower I have. I quickly think of every non-sexual thing I can think of to calm my hormones: grandmas, Will in a bathing suit…Jen–yup, that does it.
I kick my shoes off into the compact closet and apprehensively approach my bed. “It’s okay, Brooks; you can sit on the bed with me,” she says as she flattens her hand on the duvet, signaling me to sit beside her. I don’t hesitate, practically bounding onto the bed.
We both settle back against the headboard, but I make sure to keep my hands to myself. I remain diligent for the entire film. I don’t pay attention to most of the movie; I’m enjoying just watching her lose her sadness in the comedy. I unwind to the sound of her laughter. Occasionally I feel her head on my shoulder, and I remain as still as possible so that she won’t realize our contact and move. Her touch leaves a streak of fire across my skin, and when she takes it away, my body feels the loss, yearning for her warmth once again.
When the movie ends, we both stretch and look to one another for the next step in this unforeseen evening of ours. “Are you feeling a little better?” I ask tentatively.
She rests her hand on mine. “Yes, thank you for being here, Brooks.”
I brush a piece of her hair behind her ear, similar to the way I did the day we met, but this time she doesn’t take her eyes from mine, nor does she shrink away. “I’m hoping that one day you’ll see that I’ll always be here.”
We sit in silence for a moment, neither of us taking the offensive. I refuse to take advantage of this situation and push her towards being physical; she would only regret it, and all the progress I’ve made would be lost. Making the decision for us, I pull away from her. “So, what would you like to do now? I can get another movie, we can talk about what was bothering you, or I think Will may even have some playing cards somewhere.”
“I think I’d like to talk about why I came over here,” she says. “First, I’m going to need a few drinks. Why don’t you get some water, and I’ll pour a few more shots?”
My eyes narrow. “Are you sure? You don’t seem like much of a drinker; I don’t want you to get sick or anything.”
“You’re right; I’m really not. I think two would be my limit.”
I laugh, shaking my head, and move towards the hallway to get the waters. When I return, the shots are poured, and Vivian is sitting on my bed once again. I place the waters on my desk and take my shot from her. I quickly throw it back, wishing I had some kind of chaser for it. I wasn’t really prepared for company; I was lucky to even have the alcohol. Vivian does the same with her drink and hands me her glass.
“Let that one settle and you can have another in a little while,” I tell her, setting the glasses on the desk alongside the waters and climbing back onto the bed. “Okay, now tell me what’s going on. It was horrible seeing you cry earlier.”
Vivian pulls her knees to her chest, and hooks her hands together around them. I want her to open up to me, not hide within herself, so I grab her hands and pull them away from her legs. I lie down, pulling her with me so that we are facing each other. We each tuck an arm under our heads and let our bodies acclimate to our closeness.
“You’re not at all what you were like the entire first month of school; what’s up with the change?” she asks.
“I’m not the same,” I answer. “I wanted to be with you, but you never gave me the time of day. I finally realized that how I was acting was pushing you away. I may not be the best guy in the world, but I could never intentionally hurt you, Red. I just wish you didn’t hate me so much.” My eyes divert to the duvet that I’ve been picking at, embarrassed that I admitted that all to her.
“I never hated you, Brooks.” My eyes fly to hers.
“You don’t need to lie to make me feel better; I know that you detested me.”
She sits straight up and places her hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at her.
“I need you to understand something, Brooks. I never hated you, ever. I liked you from the minute I found you in my bed, but I didn’t trust myself around you, so I avoided you. You overwhelm me, and it terrifies my very being to think of what would happen if I gave in to you. I saw how you were with other girls, and I wouldn’t walk away unscathed and in one piece like them. You would break me.”
I sit up and wrap my legs around her, pulling her to me. “I wouldn’t break you, Vivian. I want to be the guy that mends the piece of you that is already cracked. All I want is the chance to have that honor, no matter how difficult the job might be.”
She tries to turn away from me, but I lightly palm her cheek and bring her gaze back to mine. “What fractured you, Red?” She shakes her head and then leans into my hand, closing her eyes to absorb my touch. “I’m not ready yet,” she whispers with her eyes still closed.
I pull her face to mine and rest my cheek against hers; her scent of lavender and vanilla envelopes me, and I want nothing more than to drown in her. “Is it the same thing that upset you tonight?” I whisper in her ear. She doesn’t move away from me; instead, I feel her nod and wrap her hands in my shirt. “Would you like to know what damaged me?” I ask, and she nods again.
I turn into her, delicately kiss her cheek, and then run my nose along her creamy skin until I reach her forehead, planting another feather-light peck. I then pull away, take her hands away from my shirt, and lace my fingers with hers. Feeling my absence, she gradually opens her eyes.
“I’ve never met my real father. He took off before I was born. Then when I was two, my mom got married and had a whole new family with my stepdad. He adopted me, but really, it was more for appearances than anything. Recently my dad started writing to me, wanting to meet. I just don’t know if I even want to know him. I’ve always been someone’s afterthought; no one has ever picked me for me. The attention that I get from girls, it makes me feel wanted; for once I have the control to choose, instead of always being last pick.”
“Brooks, you’re not my last pick. That control you seek means you have the power to crush me. You and I are not all that different.”
“I don’t believe that; you’re so much better than I am. You’re good and pure and loyal, all the things that I pretend like I am. But I’m a fraud; all of this tough shit and arrogance is all just a show.”
“You’re not a fraud; you’re just trying to survive. I get that.” She takes a deep breath, pulls her hands from mine, and shakes them out. “Okay, here it goes. When I was little, my father was killed. The man who was responsible went to prison. After it happened, my mother packed my sisters and me up and moved us back to her tiny hometown, trying to forget that it ever happened. To this day, she refuses to talk about what happened. I’ve heard rumors about it, and the things my father was into that possibly got him killed, but she refuses to talk about it. She has gone overboard trying to shelter us, keeping us from the outside world. It took a lot to even get her to let me come to school here.”
I entwine our fingers again, attempting to show her my support. Hearing that her father was murdered and that he was possibly into some kind of trouble before his death certainly surprises me, but I pass no judgment. “Is that why you were crying?”
She nods. “I called home to ask one more time about my dad. I thought maybe I would use it for my English paper. I mean, I wasn’t sure I wanted to throw all that drama out there for Vauldin to read, but I at least wanted the option. I thought maybe writing it down would be therapeutic for me.”
“You know, there would be case files that are public record if you really wanted to know the story. If you wanted to find out, I would go with you.” I’m not just offering to be nice, or because of the moment. Being this close to her, feeling her, she has bewitched me, and I would go to the ends of the Earth for her.
“You would do that?” she says in disbelief.
“I would do anything you needed to see that smile.” I bring our tangled hands to my mouth and kiss her wrist. “Thank you for trusting me with that story,” I say as I take our hands away and tuck them into my chest.
