Forgive Me (5 page)

I
have something for you,” Jason says as I walk him out to his truck.

“A new wardrobe?”

“Your wardrobe looks fine to me.” Jason appraises me in my robe.

“You’re decimating it. In the seven days we’ve been…together, you’ve ripped three shirts, one dress, and broken the zipper on my favorite pair of jeans.” Jason reaches into his truck and pulls out a cowboy hat. He twirls it in his hands as I go on. “At this rate I’ll be out of clothes by Labor Day.”

“Maybe you should wear fewer clothes,” he says, and places the hat on my head.

“I think there are laws associated with that type of behavior.” I take the hat off to look at it. It’s chocolate brown with a band around it embroidered with turquoise flowers. On the front a brass oval with turquoise flower petals anchors the band.

“Turquoise is my favorite color,” I say, and continue to marvel at the hat.

“I know,” Jason says, and lifts my lips to his. “Don’t overthink us, Annie.” He kisses me again and I want him to come back inside with me. I tell him with my body as I lean into him and grab him with my free hand. Jason laughs his evil little laugh.

“I have to go to work,” he says, but his hard-on in my hand is telling a different story.

“You can work on me.”

Jason gives in. He backs me into the garage and bends me back onto the trunk of my mother’s Camry.
Sorry, Mom
. I unbuckle his belt and realize I’m holding my breath. I release it as I release him from his jeans. And here, with the garage door up, and my new hat on, I have Jason Leer for the twenty-fifth time over the last eight days.

I will not think. I will not think. I will not think.

Jason leaves just in time for me to shower before Sean arrives. He’s been calling me every day and every day I promise him I’m okay, but I never mention Jason. When he called this morning he asked if I was alone and I realized I’m not hiding a thing from Sean. I’ve never been able to keep anything from him. I hear the garage door rising as I throw some lip gloss in my bag.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask as I climb in Sean’s truck.

“You need a car. Unless you want to use Mom’s Camry.” I watch the garage door lower on the Camry. It’s not a bad car. “I’m not always going to be able to drive you to and from Rutgers.” The now familiar weight of concern replaces Sean’s easy nature.

“Noble always takes me,” I answer, debating for no good reason.

“It’s one of the things you need. If you have no parents you should have a car.” With that we drive to Delaware in silence, both of us considering all the things we “need” since we have no parents. I’m sure our lists are completely different. Sean’s is probably full of practical items, mine’s inhabited solely by Jason Leer. He’s my only life-sustaining device. Sean pulls in front of the Hummer dealership and my confusion renders me speechless.

“You ready?” he says, noting my paralysis.

“Ready for what? Why are we here?”

“To get you a Hummer. You need something safe.”

“Sean O’Brien, you have completely lost your mind if you think I am going to drive around in a Hummer.”

“What’s wrong with a Hummer? They’re very safe.” I continue shaking my head. “After this we’ll test drive the Suburban.”

“It won’t even fit in my driveway at Rutgers. Where the hell am I going to park it? You do realize there is only one of me?”

“Yes, and if you hit something in this vehicle I need you to walk away from it.” Sean’s jaw is tight, a sure sign he’s not backing down.

“I get the idea.” I start, trying to be considerate. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, either. But this vehicle is not coming home with us. Ever.”

“Are you going back to Rutgers?”
Where the hell else would I go?
I’m beginning to think the stress is taking a toll on Sean.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Jason Leer. I’m afraid you’re going to do something crazy, like follow him to Oklahoma or something.” My chest tightens at the thought of Oklahoma. A salesman walks out of the dealership and adjusts his shirt in his pants. He walks toward our truck and tears fill my eyes.
He can’t go.
“Mom and Dad would want you to get a degree.”

“Fuck Mom and Dad. I wanted them to live.”

“Well, I’m alive and I want you to finish school!” Sean yells, and the man stops mid-step, realizing now is not a good time. “What the hell, Charlotte? They died. I get it. But you can’t let it kill everything else in your life. Something has to keep going.” He’s calming, but the thought of returning to Rutgers, of leaving Jason, is making me angry. I’m trapped in my brother’s logic and it makes me want to break the window next to me. The man walks back into the dealership, and Sean starts the truck and heads back east to New Jersey.

We drive in silence over the river. The bridge is down to one lane and the traffic slows just prior to the causeway. Sean turns up the radio, opens the windows, and turns to me with his “this is stupid” look, and I’m reminded of Sean’s complete inability to maintain anger.

“Just stick with the plan,” he says as he switches lanes.
Oh yes. Everything is going exactly as planned.
“If in a year you still want to do something rash, you can.”

“Doesn’t a rash decision, by definition, require a lack of thought? Not a year’s worth?”

“Just keep your head on.”

After that Sean doesn’t say another word.

About a quarter mile from our parents’ house, I can see Jason’s truck in the driveway and my heart races with the anticipation of touching him. I hope Sean doesn’t want to come in. Sean sees the truck, too. I know because his jaw clenches again, but he says nothing.

“This was fun,” I say as I hop out of the truck.

“Good times,” he adds, never taking his eyes off Jason’s truck.

“Careful going home.”

“You too,” he counters, and slowly backs out, leaving me alone in the driveway.

And I was trying so hard not to think.

H
e’s gone. I know it before I open my eyes. They may as well just stay closed now. I roll over to his pillow. How long does it take to get your own pillow? If you’re Jason Leer, and in my bed, apparently it takes a few hours. What must his father think? Does he even know he’s here? He must think I’m a whore.

None of it matters.

I open my eyes and see a small piece of paper propped up against my lamp. In handwriting I haven’t seen in years it says:

Do orphans go to the rodeo? I have no idea who goes to the rodeo. I haven’t been to it since I was a little girl. I text Jenn and Margo.

From Jenn I get:

And from Margo:

Sam pulls into my driveway in his new Ford Expedition and Noble holds the back door open for me.

“Nice hat,” he says.

“Thanks, Noble.” I’m unable to keep a smile from him.

“Glad to see you out.” He closes the door after me and climbs back into the front.

Noble lights a joint and we take the long way to the rodeo. When it’s passed to me I hand it to Margo on my left. She takes it without a word. It’s too soon to get high. I’m barely treading water at low.

My party of five is plenty high by the time we park at the Cowtown Rodeo. They giggle the entire way to the line, which by now is a few hundred people deep. As the funky bunch collectively tries to figure out the last time we were all at the rodeo, I scan the landscape for Jason Leer.

Cars and trucks are pouring into the entrance. The crowd is immense. I hear the ticket collector say they expect over four thousand people tonight.
Where are they coming from?
Their appearances offer no clues to their origins. There are families everywhere—black, white, Mexican, Puerto Rican—the children are adorned with new cowboy hats and stuffed horses. Some have wooden guns that pop when you pull the trigger.

“Good luck finding a seat tonight,” the ticket collector says, and I try and figure out why I haven’t been here since my childhood. Sam walks ahead and finds the end of a bench for us to share. It’s actually a set of makeshift bleachers built into the side of a hill. The grandstands line both sides of the arena with primitive box seats at the top. There’s a country band playing and an announcer saying something I can’t quite decipher. On the other side of Jenn a Mennonite boy chews and spits tobacco directly onto the ground. The lady in front of him doesn’t seem to mind. There are men and women lining the walkway behind the seats, all smoking cigarettes. It’s as if we’ve stepped back in time, but I was never alive when this time occurred.

Jenn sits close on my left; her crazy, curly brown hair blows over my face when she moves. Margo to my right is the exact opposite. She has straight blond hair and a slight adherence to rules. Jenn reaches in her camouflage tote and pulls out a beer. She cracks it open and smiles at me.

“What are you doing?” I ask in complete disbelief, unable to take my eyes off her beer.

“Quenching my thirst,” she says, and takes a long gulp. Her complete disregard of the legal drinking age, and her not having reached it, remind me of how my mother used to yell, “Do not get arrested!” every time Jenn and Margo would pick me up. And she didn’t know the half of it. I close my eyes and shake my head.

The announcer welcomes us to the “greatest show on dirt” and names each branch of the military, inviting servicemen to stand for our applause as he does. The crowd is speckled with servicemen and women who are met with cheers and screams. The children all join in, having no idea what they’re cheering for as the announcer explains, “Without the sacrifice of these men and women, none of us have the right to be here.”

We turn our attention to the far gate as a woman in a bright red, sparkly shirt comes speeding into the arena on a galloping horse. She carries the American flag in one hand and turns the horse on a dime, heading back toward the center of the arena.
I don’t ever want to be on a horse going that fast, and damn that flag must be heavy
. The announcer asks us to continue standing and bow our heads as we exercise our freedom of religion for the cowboy prayer.

At this, I almost take the beer out of Jenn’s hand and down it. Rutgers, in all its diversity, has reduced public prayer to an awkward ritual. The student population is rich in cultures, races, and religions. I’ve flourished there, and learned more about the world in two years than a lifetime of study other schools could provide. But I’ve also learned to listen more than I speak, and respect others views by not always expressing my own. This public display of Christianity has become foreign to me in two short years. Intellectually it is uncomfortable, but in reality the sense of community and shared purpose warm me.

Until I bow my head and realize I’m not talking to God anymore. Not on behalf of these cowboys, not for Jason Leer, and not for myself, because he took away the two people I should never have to live without.

The words over the speakers turn in my stomach and I defiantly open my eyes. I look toward the arena and directly into the eyes of Jason Leer sitting on the fence fifteen feet from us. He holds his head high under his giant hat, his eyes are fixed on me, and rather than praying he’s looking straight through to my soul.

With that a breeze blows, pushing my hair across my face. The air makes me realize how hot I was under Jason’s stare. As I push my hair back and place my new cowboy hat back on my head Jason smiles a devilish grin.
What the hell are you doing to me, Jason Leer?

The girl on the horse takes off toward the gate and the rodeo begins without enough warning. Out of the first gate a bull rider is released with the bull bucking into the air. The cowboy holds on until the horn blows, signifying the end of his eight-second ride. He lets go, falls on his feet, and runs and jumps on the fence to avoid being impaled by the bull. The rodeo clowns distract the bull and the cowboy runs out of the arena.

“It’s so fast,” I say to no one in particular.

“The most exciting eight seconds in sports,” Sam says, and I shake my head. Why on earth would anyone want to compete in this arena? Five more bull riders take their turns on bulls randomly picked and named such things as Guacamole, Zoro, and Beasty Boy. The bulls and the cowboys all manage to survive and I relax, the danger averted for now. Jason is nowhere to be found. I lost sight of him when the bulls came out.

The announcer focuses our attention on the near end of the arena for steer wrestling. According to my program Jason is the second competitor.
Or is it wrestler?
The first wrestler, Brad Riley, rides his horse out of the chute and follows the steer right out of the gate on the other side of the arena.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t catch him in time. He has to dive off his horse onto the steer,” Sam explains.

“Too bad, folks. Let’s show Brad some Cowtown love. He just spent the $100 entry plus gas to get here and is going home empty-handed,” the announcer says, as we all clap for Brad.

I can see Jason on his horse inside the gate farthest from me. Between us is another guy on a horse. Ollie, I think. The gates open and the steer runs out first. Jason chases him and dives off his horse onto the steer. My eyes never leave Jason’s body as he digs his heels in the dirt until the steer stops, then twists the steer until he falls onto his side and back. Jason stands up as the announcer says, “How about a Cowtown hand for our local boy Jason Leer and his outstanding 4.4-second run that puts him in first place.”

Jason turns toward me and I let the air out of my lungs. How long had I not been breathing? Four-point-four seconds, I guess. The bull riding frightened me, but watching Jason steer wrestle does something completely different to me. I take a deep breath and watch him walk out of the arena.

“Damn, Leer kicked that steer’s ass,” Sam says.

“Yes he did,” Margo adds, and we all stare at the arena as the next wrestlers take their turns, none of which are able to beat 4.4 seconds. Just like that. He won.

We stay seated, my friends’ high dissipating as Jenn drinks her purse beers. We watch the Bareback Riding, which is right out of the Wild West. These guys are getting their asses kicked and still don’t let go until the horn. Saddle Bronc Riding is next and seems only slightly more civilized. There are fewer entrants than Bareback because really, why use a saddle if you’re into this in the first place? Next on the program is something called Tie Down Roping. A cowboy on a horse chases a calf and then lassos him. The calf looks like it’s choked out as the cowboy jumps off his horse, throws the calf down and then ties three of its legs together.

“Oh God. How barbaric,” I say, my face trapped in horror for the calf.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Sam says, as the calf gets up and prances out of the arena as if it’s had the best night of its life.

“Yeah, if you’re an animal in Salem County you’d rather spend your Saturday nights with the cowboys than the hunters,” Jenn adds.

“I guess. I’m going to go to the bathroom.” I need a break from the rodeo before God-knows-what event comes next.

“Don’t get lost. I think we’re leaving soon,” Margo says, and it sounds like some other warning.

I climb over Margo and Noble, and make my way to the bathrooms. There’s a short line in which I say hello to Mrs. Heitter and Ms. Cioffi. They both have no idea what to say to me so instead of searching for the right thing, just stumble over their condolences and end it with a big hug.
I don’t know what to say either.
I stand facing the empty bathrooms alone, and cry for my mother. She didn’t want me in this world, I think as I look around the arena without an ounce of guilt.

I didn’t want her to leave mine.

When I come out Jason is leaning on the fence railing directly across from the bathrooms. He’s alone and appears to be waiting for me, but how did he know I was here? I walk toward him and stop about three feet away, which he apparently finds hilarious.

“That might have been the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, bursting with admiration.

“More impressive than when I took you from behind last night? I saw you watching in the mirror.”

My mouth falls open and my cheeks burn.
Appropriateness, respect, manners, tact, civility, gentility
—
ever heard of them?
My eyes harden on him. He is so awful, and yet I want to throw him to the ground and climb on top of him. He’s the most beautiful torture I’ve ever known. Jason stands up straight, watching me with his playful gray eyes reading the code of my DNA.

“Save the silence for someone else,” he says, challenging me. “I know you’ve got plenty of words in there. You can say one.” Images of last night flash through my mind and a light sweat covers my body. I swallow hard at the memory of him…hard.

“Decorum,” I say, still not moving any closer to him and the smile that crosses his face sends a chill down the back of my neck.

“Oooh, a big one.” Jason holds out his hand and I take it and let him pull me toward him as his lips find my ear and he says, “I love it when you watch.” I kiss him because he’s depleted all my control and because he has to stop talking. At least like this. We are, after all in public. He kisses the side of my face as his hand threads into my hair and pulls it. His lips move to my ear again and his breath there buckles my knees. Jason holds me up and I open my eyes to center myself.

“You smell like smoke. Are you high?” He asks.

“No,” I answer without thinking. He pulls me back to see me.

“No?” he asks again, doubting my answer.

“I already answered the question,” I instinctively say, and he laughs a little and returns me to him. Almost as abruptly, he moves me away and looks over my shoulder, annoyed.

“Hey Leer, that was awesome,” Sam says, and breaks Jason’s spell on me. Is that why he’s annoyed? Noble, Jenn, and Margo follow Sam and all express their astonishment over Jason’s “sport.”

“We’re headed out to Stoners Lane after this if you want to come hang out,” Noble says to Jason, and I watch him, curious for his answer.

Without even a glance in my direction he says, “Thanks, but I’ve started a new nighttime routine recently and I’m committed to it.” I lower my head so no one can see me. I’m sure my cheeks are turning purple.

“I’m actually not in the mood for Stoners. Can you give me a ride home?” I ask Jason, and suddenly, I have everyone’s attention.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he says, and all four thousand people in this arena disappear. I am ready to throw him down right here. Him and the shit-eating grin splattered across his face.

“Oh no you don’t. It’s Saturday!” Jenn practically shouts.

“It’s okay. Let’s take it easy. It’s only been a few weeks,” Margo says as she grabs Jenn’s arm. “We’ll call you tomorrow. Get some rest.” She collects them all and leads them away without anyone seeming to even notice my absence.

“I want to tie you up,” Jason says without taking his eyes off the road. I stare at his profile, the oncoming headlights illuminating it in a dark rhythm. He turns off Route 40 and we’re completely alone on Auburn Road. Completely alone.