Finally, Jenny and I are upstairs, collapsing into my big king-sized bed.
“I hate those girls,” I moan, my face squashed into a pillow.
“Me too.” I can tell by Jenny’s voice that she’s already half asleep, clearly worn out by the excessive dancing we’ve been doing for the past few hours. There’s a small pause, and then she says, practically slurring, “Koby and I are meeting on Tuesday at the library. To work on a project together.”
“Wow,” I say, impressed. “So the kinky love affair is beginning next week?”
“Maybe it’s already begun,” Jenny says cryptically, and I shriek and nudge her, but she doesn’t respond, already deeply asleep.
I lay there, but the ceiling seems to be spinning and I’m starting to feel sick and suddenly all I want is Tony there, to hug me and take care of me. I remember his voice, his words as he yelled at me and told me he wouldn’t be around to take care of me if I moved away to go to school. My drunken state makes the situation seem so much more serious, and suddenly I feel panicked at the thought of Tony and me not being together anymore. I have to know, have to talk to him, have to see if he’s still mad at me. I have know if he’ll still be around whenever I need him, if he’d come and take care of me if I start to feel any more sick than I do now.
I plant one foot on the floor to center me and fumble on my nightstand for my phone. I knock down several things that thump loudly, and finally manage to get my cell. I press the button to unlock it and squint against the bright glare. I manage to open my messages and finally send one off to Tony.
Miss uthe baby. U wish you’re here wish me.
He answers almost instantly.
Have you been drinking? Are you okay?
I bad wish Janice.
That’s not right. “Damn you, autocorrect,” I growl, and erase the message, trying to at least get the name right so he doesn’t freak out.
In bed with Jenny. Don’t feel good.
Awe, babe, I’m sorry.
I wish you’re to hold meet.
I wish I was there too. I miss you.
A tear trickles down my cheek as I think of our argument earlier, and I know I don’t want to be far away from Tony. The thought of being on the other side of country is unbearable, and I want to be near him all the time, so he can take care of me.
I’m sorry about today. Don’t be madth. I won’t leaf you. Please doesn’t be mad a me. I loved you.
I’m not mad, I know you love me. I wish I was there with you, but get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Will you’ve come over? Tomorrow nightmare? And holden me?
The text message is sent before I can think twice about it, but right then I don’t think that it’s a bad idea. All I can think about is old Tony, the one that was here this afternoon, the one who invented the game with The Things We Can’t Change.
More than anything, I wish I could change him, change him back into what he used to be.
But somehow I know that’s a
can’t, can’t, can’t
.
Of course, baby. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me. Just don’t ever leave me. I can’t live without you.
I’m asleep before I can read the message.
Evangeline
11
I wake up the next morning to my phone buzzing repeatedly and a pounding in my head. I squint at my nightstand, but my clock must have been one of the things I knocked off last night because it isn’t there. I finally locate my phone, sandwiched between the bed and my right thigh, and answer it.
“Lo?”
“Hey, princess.” Dad’s voice is illegally cheerful for—I check the phone—ten in the morning on a Saturday. “How was the sleepover?”
Lame,
I want to say, but then I realize that it wasn’t all that bad, considering. “Fun,” I reply. I pause, then say significantly, “We were up really late.”
He blows out a sigh. “Sorry if I woke you. But the new receptionist at the Dublin office didn’t show up today, and only Dr. Peterson is there today, with one nurse. I know it’s your long weekend, but…” he trails off.
“It’s fine, Dad,” I say, hauling myself out of bed. “I’ll cover for you. I don’t understand why you can’t keep a receptionist at that office for longer than a week, though.”
“Because none of them ever measure up to you,” he says immediately, and I roll my eyes.
“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you? I already said I was coming in.” I open my closet and search for dress pants.
“I mean every word. I’ll tell Greg you’re coming in, baby. Talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I say, and hang up.
I see I have one unread text message and open it. It’s from Tony.
Of course, baby. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me. Just don’t ever leave me. I can’t live without you.
I freeze.
No, no, no
.
I reread the texts I sent last night, barely able to remember getting into bed.
No. Stupid girl
.
I can’t believe that after a whole month of insuring that Tony doesn’t have the opportunity to stay the night, or me with him, I’m the one who has screwed it up and given him an opening.
I’m trembling, I’m so furious with myself. I grab my hair, pulling on it in my panic, wishing I could just rip it out in frustration.
Stupid, stupid,
stupid
Evie.
Tears sting my eyes, and I want to cry out in frustration, but Jenny is still in my bed sleeping. I can feel myself floating away as the panic grips me, and I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms.
The sharp sting of pain brings me back to reality. My legs suddenly feel shaky, and I grab a shelf to steady myself. Deep breaths help my head to stop spinning, though I know the sick feeling in my gut has nothing to do with last night’s drinking.
As I stand there, I realize that all the things Tony always calls me are true; bumbling idiot, stupid girl, ignorant fool.
No!
shouts my rational self.
He just caught you with your defenses down. He made you feel guilty. He tricked you.
Or maybe this just proves that Zeke is right. Maybe, deep down, I actually want it and I’m just as screwed up as Tony.
I yank a pair of pants off the hanger, furious with Zeke, Tony, and most of all, myself. I know at least one thing for absolute certain; I am
never
drinking again.
It’s dark by the time the doorbell rings. I’m lying on the couch, exhausted by a combination of dread, work, and the leftover hangover. The office was a wreck. The new receptionist didn’t seem to have done a thing since she was hired two weeks ago. I work for my dad every single summer, and it’s true I keep a high standard, but this had been pitiful. I’d caught up as best I could while battling a ferocious headache, and it hadn’t been until I stopped at McDonalds on my way home and downed enough greasy food for three people that I felt recovered from the night before.
Right now, I’m lounging in yoga pants and a tank top, feeling like I’ll never need to eat again. I don’t bother getting dressed up, because I already know exactly what Tony will say when he sees me. The sound of the doorbell goes through my body like a bolt of lightning, electrifying me, sending every hair straight to attention, zinging through every nerve ending until they’re all awake and alert. I feel as though I’m looking at everything through a magnifying glass, everything sharper and clearer than it’s ever been before.
I heave myself off the couch and go to answer the door. I can see Tony’s silhouette through the glass in the door, dark and sinister. It reminds me of Cruella Deville in
101 Dalmatians
, and I wonder what it says about my boyfriend that I’d rather see a woman who would kill a hundred puppies just for a coat than him.
I push the thoughts away and open the door, feeling as though I’m inviting a vampire across the threshold. Once in, he’ll never leave, always have permission to come back and invade my home, invade me. He steps in and drops his bag on the entryway floor and grabs me into his arms, kissing the top of my head.
“I missed you. I love you,” he murmurs over and over, and I have to force myself to hug him back.
“I missed you too.” The words slip out, just once, before I can stop them, and I feel sick with myself because they aren’t a lie.
Finally, Tony steps away and closes the door, then gives me a critical look. “You look heavy.”
“Big lunch,” I say. Normally, tennis keeps me in shape, but we missed going to any championships this year and our season ended embarrassingly early, so I know I’ll have to start running sooner than my normal schedule of just during the summer months. It suddenly and randomly occurs to me that this is the reason that I’ve been seeing Zeke so much all of the sudden, because I get to the dance studio earlier without having to go to tennis first.
Zeke
. I remember the safe feeling I got with him, and suddenly, as I look into Tony’s eyes, as he advances on me, I wish Zeke were here, him and my dad. They are the only two people I’ve ever felt safe around, and while I don’t understand why I feel safe with Zeke, I find myself not caring about the why. I just wish it was him in the house, guarding me, instead of Tony.
Tony puts his hand on my waist and pulls me close to him, leans down and kisses me. I forget myself for just a moment because his touch is so gentle, the way it was during our very first kiss, so long ago. The moment feels romantic. Every teenaged girl’s dream; an empty house, a good looking boyfriend, the light of the sunset giving the house a warm glow.
Tony’s hands tighten on my waist, and all the good feelings vanish instantly. I’m suddenly filled with dread and panic, and I tear my lips away from his, my breath coming in quick pants. Tony seems to take this as encouragement, because he moves to kissing my neck, and I jerk involuntarily, not out of excitement, but repulsion at the feeling of his lips against my bare skin.
“Wait, Tony,” I say breathlessly, putting my hands against his broad shoulders. Feeling how much bigger he is than me sends a jolt of fear through me, panic filling every nerve and muscle. “Tony, I don’t want to do this tonight. That isn’t why I asked you over here.”
“I know,” he whispers, still kissing along my neck. He reaches my shoulder, the strap of my tank top, and slides a finger under it, slipping it from my shoulder. “But we should try it again, Evie. The first time is always a little rough. I love you, we can make this work.”
I swallow hard, remembering the pain last time, the way he held me down. My vision goes white at the edges and I feel myself beginning to float away. “I don’t want to,” I hear myself say, as if from a distance.
Slowly, as though I’m wading through water, I feel myself push him away. “No, Tony.”
“I’ll do better this time, I swear it will be good for you, Evie. I love you.” The words are gentle, but his hands have come around my wrists, both of them in his iron grip, and he’s maneuvered me so I’m pushed up against the wall.
I know there’s something wrong with me then. I know I should scream and fight and try to get away, but I don’t. There’s no one here to save me, and I made this bed, and so I know that I have to lie in it. It’s punishment for being stupid enough to invite Tony over, and anyways, I know that he’s much too strong to fend off. I found that out last time, as I struggled to get away. Last time I had fought, and I hadn’t been able to escape.
So I escape the only way I know how, as Tony takes my hands and leads me up to my own bedroom. I let him guide me, and allow my mind to float up to the clouds, don’t try to stay in reality. But as always, the pain brings me back down. The same horrible, stinging pain as last time, tearing me apart from the inside out, bringing me crashing back to reality where I have to see and hear everything.
I stumble into the bathroom afterward, just like before. The slickness between my thighs tells me I’m bleeding again, but I keep my eyes tightly closed until I’ve rinsed off, so that I don’t have to see any of it on my body. I’m clean on the outside, but inside I still feel dirty. Just like last time, even after it’s gone, I can still see it there, feel it there. It still hasn’t left me, it’s still poisoned me, and I know I will still carry it around with me forever.
Evangeline
12
I feel hollow afterward. Tony leaves early in the morning to meet up with his parents for some kind of brunch, and I lay on the couch, the house completely silent. Even though I know I should be moving, should get up and do something, my homework maybe, I can’t force myself to actually do it. The lethargy should be alarming, especially since I can’t even seem to cry, but I just lay there and don’t move all day.