Dissolve (7 page)

“It’s alright,” I say. “I wish there was some way I could help. I’m dealing with guy problems too, sort of.”

“Oooh, really?” Her eyes twinkle. “Spill, girl.”

“I…is it okay if I don’t use names?”

“Of course!”

I bite my lip. “There’s this guy who kissed me at a party. But I know he sleeps around. A lot. I don’t think I can trust him, or that kiss. I don’t want to be just another one in the line.”

She quirks a brow. “Does he go to this school?”

“No,” I say hastily.

“Do you like him?”

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, or her kindness, or her eager face, but for some reason my words come fast and and loose.

“I haven’t liked anyone since a really bad thing happened to me.”

She’s quiet, and I rush to fill the awkward silence.

“But I liked the kiss. And he’s been nothing but nice to me. I just don’t think it’s worth it - love, and sex. It just seems pointless, and scary. People leave you, or hurt you, over and over again if you let them.”

She nods after a moment. “Yeah. It blows. Love can blow sometimes, and sex even moreso. Sometimes you have sex when you know you shouldn’t have, or don’t want to. Sometimes sex is boring and sometimes it’s hilarious and other times it’s hot. Even when it’s hot, sometimes you can’t stand that person out of bed, so you can never love them. It’s rare to find love and sex in one package, especially in college, you know?”

I nod. “Doesn’t stop people from trying, though.”

Hayley laughs. “Oh, definitely.”

We watch the coffee shop crowd, eating and talking and studying in a buzz of constant activity. For a moment it feels like we’re the only ones taking it slow, at our own pace. We’re an island of quiet in the middle of chaos, and it feels nice.

“You didn’t answer my question, by the way,” Hayley says finally.

“Which one?”

“Do you like him?”

I pause, dredging up my memories of him - sitting under the stars, his two-tone eyes locking on me as I danced, the feel of his strong back entwined in my arms on the motorcycle. I think of him in the graveyard, sad and alone, and of his lips - desperate and burning against my own.

“I could,” I say slowly. “I don’t know what it’s like to have a crush on someone for real - I had one in middle school, but that wasn’t anything but childish. This is -” I flush. “This is something different.”

My body burns with its difference.

“So is that a yes or no?” Hayley insists.

“Yes,” I say finally. “I like him.”

Those three words release a ton of the pressure that’d been building on my shoulders since the night of the party. I like him. I do. Hayley has to go to class, but she gives me her number and I give her mine. She waves as she walks down the sidewalk, and I turn towards home.

Even if I like Kai, there’s no way he likes me the same way. He wants a fling. He kissed me because he wants to sleep with me and discard me; like Hayley, like all the other girls before. Sex means nothing to him, and love even less. No matter how good that kiss felt, or whether or not it was my first, it meant nothing to him. He’s done it a thousand times with a dozen other girls. Love and dating mean zilch to sleazebag extraordinaire.

Even if I like him, it’s not going to happen.

So I lock him away in my heart, like a child locking their favorite toys in a box before burying them in the backyard. This is a time capsule - the moment of when I first liked someone after what happened to me. It’s a good sign. It means I can still like someone, want someone, kiss someone.

“I’m not ruined forever,” I mumble in the elevator on my way up the apartment building. “Thanks, Kai, for helping me realize that at least.”

***

The spell over me has been broken. I can sleep again; seven hours a night of pure, uninterrupted bliss revisits me like an old friend. I spend the week dreading the weekend - I have to visit Dad. I mean, I don’t have to. I’d love more than anything to cut ties with the smug bastard and move on with my life, but I’ve never been brave enough to do it. Not when he’s paying for my degree.

Hayley friends me on facebook, which is big news for me - I don’t have that many friends on it, or get new ones very often. We talk a lot as we study. She’s even funnier online, where she posts pictures of her modeling. You’d think that it would be her modeling, but no - she makes model airplanes, and they’re amazing. In excruciating detail she brings old airplanes from World War II to life, with tiny working propellers, true-to-life missiles with every serial number painted on them in microscopic numbers. She’s so good she has a following; mostly elderly men who fought in the war or middle-aged toy collectors or military fanatics. I’m always surprised when she tells me how much they sell for - she can comfortably keep abreast of her student loans
and
rent without blinking.

My dad used to help me make them,
she types one night while we’re both studying.

That’s awesome,
I say.
And adorable.

Isn’t it? LOL. He was great

Was?

There’s a long pause, and I can see her taking a while to type. Did I say something wrong?

He died of complications from multiple sclerosis when I was twelve.

Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t meant to bring up bad memories.

No it’s okay, silly. It was a long time ago. He wouldn’t want me to keep being all sad over it.

She’s so strong. I take a while to type back.

My dad’s still around. He’s a bit of an asshole. He always guilt trips me and tries to control my life and shit talks my Mom. I hate it. And I can’t say I like him, either. But he’s paying for my college so I have to visit him at least one weekend a month. Does that make me sound spoiled?

LOL not at all. Just because they’re family and still alive doesn’t mean you have to like them. I hate my brother with a passion, so I totally get it.

We’re silent as we study for a bit, and then she types.

Hey, if you ever need a rescue from your Dad’s, text me, okay? I’ll come get you. No matter what time, or what the weather is. I promise.

I smile, my heart buzzing with warmth.

Thanks. I might just take you up on that.

That Saturday, the second I hop off the greyhound bus I know I’ve made a mistake. Dad’s waiting in the terminal, his arms crossed over his usual gray t-shirt with his company’s logo on it. His salt-and-pepper hair is slowly balding, and his steel-colored eyes are identical to mine. The similarities between us end there, though.

“Hey there,” He says as I walk over. “Almost didn’t recognize you with all that makeup on.”

“It’s just a little eyeliner, Dad,” I sigh and heft my backpack higher on my shoulder. “It never killed anyone.”

“Well, you should take it off before we get home. You know Loretta hates that crap.”

“She hates everything without the word ‘jesus’ in it.”

Dad’s face turns instantly red, his mustache quivering. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Sorry. I can’t wait to see her.” I put on a smile. His eyes narrow, but he just shakes his head and lets it go if I apologize fast enough. The car ride home isn’t quiet - Dad can’t stop talking about how his business is doing, and how he’s got big-name clients coming through.

“Have you thought about applying for a student loan?” Dad asks. “That way, you could learn to handle your own money.”

“Handle my own debt, you mean.”

He sighs. “We’re all in debt, Eve. I took out debts to start this business, and look where I am now. I made it work with effort and determination, and no one babysat me by paying my business expenses. If you don’t learn how to be responsible now, you’ll end up like your mother - helpless and dependent on other people just to live.”

I bite my tongue to keep myself from pointing out Mom had a successful job as an accountant in a high-stakes firm until she got pregnant with me and Dad forced her to quit. He didn’t let her go back to work the entire time I was growing up - how did he expect her to make enough money to take care of herself? He forbade it. Now that they’re divorced and he has to pay her settlements, he’s angry? It’s official - my dad is such a child.

“I’ll be fine, Dad.” I insist. He ‘harumphs’.

“Alright. Just think about it for now. It’d be a big relief off my shoulders.”

God forbid he help his kid out with college. God forbids a lot of things, according to his new wife, Loretta. She’s the old-school Christian type - with bleach-blonde hair and a pair of bright blue eyes, she once was probably really pretty. But age and hate have soured her - her smile is bitter on the edges every time she sees me, and this time is no exception. I walk into the kitchen of their two-story, newly-renovated house, and she turns and smiles that same bitter smile.

“Eve! How lovely to see you.”

She swoops over in an apron and hugs me tight - so tight I think she
wants
my head to pop off.

“Hi, Loretta,” I force out. She pulls away and taps the wooden spoon she’s been holding on my nose.

“Oh my goodness, look at that tawdry eyeliner of yours. You’re growing up so fast, young lady.”

“I’m nineteen,” I say. “Surprise - I’m a legal adult.”

Even her laugh is stale, like she’s rehearsed it. “So you are. Do me a favor and wash it off before you come down to dinner, will you? We all must be pure when we receive the nourishment of our Lord.”

I knit my lips shut. Loretta smiles wider.

“I’m making pot roast. Do you like pot roast?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Dad comes in and they kiss, and I make a break for the stairs before I can vomit all over the clean floor. My room is the guest room - the bed and curtains the same rose-pattern and smelling like cloying, too-sweet febreeze. A cross hangs on the wall, and a bible sits in the bedside table. There’s no TV - that’s downstairs. Thankfully, I always bring my favorite books. I learned not to bring Harry Potter the first time I came over in Freshmen year - I came home from the zoo with Dad to find Loretta had thrown them away, calling them the work of the devil. All the books I bring now I keep in an airtight, lockable aluminum box so she can’t snoop inside.

At dinner, the conversation is boring and forced - Loretta asking if I like school, if there’s a prayer group I could join.

“You look like you’ve put on a few pounds,” She smiles over a forkful of mashed potatoes. “What are you are eating at that school?”

“What I weigh doesn’t concern you,” I say instantly.

“Eve!” Dad thumps his fist on the table. “Respect your stepmother right now, young lady.”

“She’s insinuating I’m fat, Dad.”

“She’s worried about your health!” His neck gets red like it always does when he’s about to explode. “Be polite to the people who are worried about you and stop being so damn prickly!”

I swallow, but my throat is dry and acidic. Loretta’s smile is barely smug enough for Dad to notice, but I do. I always do. And she always, always, gets away with making me feel stupid, or not good enough.

“It’s alright, Clarence,” She reaches out to Dad’s hand and covers it with her own. “She’s just mistaken my tone, is all. A woman’s weight is a sensitive subject for every girl.”

There’s a tense silence as Dad glares at me and Loretta eats like a self-satisfied cat. My stomach is roiling, like I’m about to throw up. I can’t even touch my food without thinking she’ll judge me for eating here, too. But that was her plan all along - make me uncomfortable.

“You know, Clarence,” Loretta starts. “I’ve been thinking about that trip to New York we were talking about. You know the tickets go on sale this week. I was thinking, if we had a little extra, we’d book them today and take a nice Christmas vacation early.”

“I don’t know, hon. We don’t have that kind of money right now,” Dad grunts.

Loretta fixes her eyes on me. “It’s only a bit extra. We can definitely save it if we cut down on….
expenses
.”

And now she’s pounding the guilt nail into my coffin.

“I keep asking her to get a loan,” Dad sighs. “Everyone else has one.”

I slam my fork down, hard. “So that it, then? You abandoned Mom and me, and left her to raise me for the last ten years. You decided to come back into my life when I graduated, and I asked you for help, but suddenly I’m a burden? Didn’t you say the shop was doing well?”

“Expanding to another location costs money, Eve,” Dad swells up. “So yes, you and your mother are financial drains on me right now -”

I stop listening, whether out of shock or disgust, I can’t tell. My ears ring with rage.

“So that’s it, huh? That’s all we’ve ever been to you - drains. We drained you of happiness, so you left. We drain you of your patience. And now we drain you of your precious money.”

“How dare you speak to me like that -”

“God does not look kindly on girls with smart mouths who disrespect their parents, Eve.” Loretta uses her warning voice.

“Shut the hell up, Loretta,” I snap. “This doesn’t involve you.”