Contradictions (10 page)

I confided none of this to Trent. It wasn’t in my nature. I didn’t talk about insecurities and, until now, never considered the cosmic ramifications of anything. I was the dial-a-laugh girl, the gutter-minded rock star.

Trent walked beside me all the way to my car without saying anything more. I avoided his eyes. They were becoming my kryptonite. Obviously, the Superman theme was sticking. God help me if I started thinking of myself as Lois Lane. I’d have to find the tallest building around and jump off.

Neither of us spoke as I climbed into my Jeep. Trent stood on the sidewalk watching me while I backed out. His attentiveness was disconcerting. Why couldn’t he just be a douche like every other guy I attracted?

I spent Friday evening holed up in my apartment by myself. After leaving Trent, I’d driven around aimlessly for over an hour, hoping to avoid Cameo and Derek. My ploy worked. By the time I entered our apartment with a bag of junk food, our apartment was empty. Just the way I wanted it.

The evening was a far cry from my normal Friday activities. I ate crap I knew I would regret and watched mindless TV. Toddlers competing for tiaras was new to me, but that didn’t stop me from watching six episodes in a row.

I hated that Cameo and I couldn’t seem to get past this hump. It was as much my fault as hers. My life was changing and I wished she would accept that, but maybe it was too much too fast. Maybe she needed more time to adjust to my shift in priorities. I debated staying up until she got home so we could hash it out, but in the end I headed to bed earlier than I had on a Friday night in years. I wasn’t sure what I could say to fix the situation. There was a chance I would just make it worse. Normally, we were joined at the hip and did everything together. This week had proven that things had changed for us. Maybe they would never be the same again.

Unfortunately, lying in my dark, quiet bedroom only encouraged me to think about David’s death. The guilt festered in my stomach like some alien had inhabited my body. I was still tossing and turning two hours later when I heard the front door open and close. I feigned sleep when my bedroom door squeaked open a few seconds later. Derek’s footsteps echoed on the wooden floorboards as he approached my bed. Though my eyes were closed, I could feel the weight of his stare as he stood beside my bed. I don’t know if he bought my ploy or just didn’t want to make the situation any more awkward by calling me out, but after a moment, he retreated from the room. I could hear Cameo’s and his muffled voices through the thin walls. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I knew it was about me.

I contemplated how much I’d changed in a week. The old Tressa would have stomped out to the front room and confronted them. Now I stayed in my room, not certain I could muster enough fuel for a fight.

Maybe I was broken. I felt broken. I’d never experienced this crushing sense of hopelessness. I wasn’t used to feeling like I was letting down so many people at once. The list felt endless.

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, uncertain of what I was morphing into. In the end, my last thoughts were about David’s memorial service the following day.

•   •   •

I learned several things the next day that I would have rather lived my entire life without ever knowing. Funerals are nothing like they seem on TV or in movies. On a screen, you get a one-dimensional sense of the despair, but in real life, it’s painful and ugly. Even if David and I didn’t have our moment, if I’d never talked to him, I’m not sure I could have attended his service and remained dry-eyed. His parents’ grief was real and seared through you like a hot poker being shoved in your eye.

Sitting on one of the hard pews, sandwiched between Derek, Cameo, and her maybe, maybe not boyfriend, Chad, provided my crazy muddled mind with sudden clarity. Giving up my old lifestyle was the right thing to do. Partying, hazing, pranks, and everything else I had ever been involved in were part of a life I no longer wanted.

The somber memorial service started with the minister giving a long-winded eulogy. For the benefit of the younger crowd, he thundered on about responsibilities and the consequences of bad choices.

After he finally ran out of steam, David’s best friend from high school got up to say a few words. A picture of David filled my mind as his friend talked about their friendship. The way he described David reminded me of the flirtatious, cocky guy I had gotten to know moments before he jumped into the raft. Unlike David’s parents, his best friend, Troy, didn’t point fingers or accuse anyone of any wrongdoing. Judging by the stories he told, David had always been a daredevil.

I was relieved when neither of David’s parents got up to talk. Seeing them lean on each other, trying to draw strength from the other was hard enough. I couldn’t imagine how suffocating the grief of losing a child must be.

The four of us opted out of attending the luncheon that MSC was hosting following the service. Trying to eat a big meal after having your guts spoon-fed to you just felt wrong on so many levels. Instead, we headed to Javalotta.

The others grabbed a table while I went to the break room to check my schedule for the following week. Thankfully, Larry and Liz were completely understanding about my probation and tutoring. They agreed to cut my hours during the week, and I volunteered to work whenever they needed on the weekends. Liz was even nice enough to schedule me off for the memorial service. I had to work open to close tomorrow, but it was cool. The store was only open eleven to six on Sunday. My schedule for the following week looked similar with the exception of working until nine next Saturday.

Between tutoring and working all weekend, I would be too busy for anything else, which was my intention all along.

Leaving the break room, I headed back to my friends, who were in the process of giving one of my coworkers, Heather, their drink orders.

“Hey, ho, you want your usual?” Heather asked, nudging me with her hip before I slid into the booth beside Derek.

“Don’t be jealous, blow queen,” I said, making a gesture with my mouth like I was sucking on something.

Everyone laughed and after a moment I joined in, even though it felt forced and a little phony. Still, for the first time in a week, I felt almost normal. Cameo looked satisfied, which didn’t escape my attention. I rolled my eyes, but didn’t comment.

I turned my attention to Chad, who I hadn’t seen since last weekend. “How’s it going?” My question was fraught with double meaning.

He shrugged before answering. “It pretty much sucks. The entire fraternity was dismantled, so most of us were left scrambling for available housing. MSC isn’t being very sympathetic. They’re the biggest bunch of douche-hypocrites ever. Even my dad is being a total prick. I remember when we were in high school, he used to brag to my brothers and me about all the shit he did in college. Suddenly, he’s a fucking saint and I’m the bad guy,” Chad complained, running his hand through his hair in aggravation.

“You’re not being expelled, right?” Derek asked as Heather returned with our drinks and the platter of pastries we ordered.

Chad shook his head. “Nah, just probation. None of us underclassmen got anything worse. It’s the seniors that got fucked. I know Dawson and Kevin both lost their scholarships. They both left yesterday.” The school basically blamed the upperclassmen for everything.

Cameo, Derek, and I collectively gasped at the same time. This shit was real.

“I didn’t know that,” Cameo said, picking the pecans off one of the croissants. “You only told me about Steve.”

“What about Steve?” I asked, losing my appetite midbite.

Cameo answered for Chad. “He was asked to leave on Thursday.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. Why just Steve?”

“He came forward and admitted the prank was his idea. The other brothers were mad. Their plan was to stay quiet and ride out the wave together. Steve went all kamikaze and took the fall for everyone.” Chad shook his head as he took a big bite from a strawberry-filled pastry.

“Holy shit, that’s crazy. I bet Melissa is pretty torn up,” I said.

“No shit. Supposedly, she threatened to break up with him if he went through with his plan,” Chad explained.

“Can’t say I blame her,” Cameo stated.

“What?” Derek sputtered, glaring across the table. “You can’t be serious. What about the whole stand-by-your-man thing?”

“Like we live in nineteen sixty? Steve should have kept his mouth closed and eventually everything would have blown over.” Cameo’s answer surprised me. It was as if David’s death wasn’t important.

“Someone died and you really thought it would just blow over? Come on, Cam, get real,” Derek argued.

Disgusted by Cameo’s attitude, I focused on my pastry that I had slowly but methodically mutilated. Would my attitude be the same as Cameo’s if I hadn’t gone with Melissa and met David that night? I wish I could believe otherwise, but truthfully, I didn’t know.

The topic of conversation switched after that before things got too heated, but everyone was pretty much done, so we left. When we got home, Cameo didn’t bother to ask if I wanted to go out with her, so I guessed that meant the truce was over. Derek opted to stay home with me. Cameo didn’t hang around long, and once she left, most of the tension that had cloaked our apartment during the last week evaporated.

I sank down into the sofa where Derek joined me with a couple of Cokes he had grabbed from the fridge. “I really don’t get Cameo right now,” he said, sitting next to me.

I wasn’t sure how to handle his remark. Obviously, he was talking about their semi-heated exchange earlier, but I couldn’t be sure anything I said wouldn’t get back to her ears. “I think everyone is still just trying to figure out how to deal with what happened.”

“I get that, but thinking everyone should keep their mouths shut so someone’s death will just blow over? That’s kind of fucked-up. It’s like she doesn’t even believe anyone is responsible.”

“Yeah, but who is responsible? Steve and the others at the fraternity are taking the fall, but isn’t everyone that participated responsible? What about the ones like us who watched it happen? Hell, we all encourage hazing.” I sounded more mature than I think I had ever sounded in my life. The guilt I had been suffering with was burning on the tip of my tongue.

“I guess. The hazing parties do get pretty out of control, obviously. Maybe that’s Cam’s problem. Maybe she feels guilty. It doesn’t seem like it, but who knows.”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. She won’t take me seriously when I try to tell her my feelings. After David’s death, the idea of partying every night just seems pointless to me. And all she wants to do is tell me I’m being dramatic.”

I’m sure I sounded crazy to Derek, but I was trying to make him understand the way I’d hoped Cameo would. Maybe he would run and tell her as soon as my back was turned, but I didn’t care anymore. Eventually, Cameo would learn to adjust to the new me, or she could take a flying leap for all I cared. Or so I told myself.

Derek could tell I was over it and let the subject drop. He suggested a game of poker. I readily agreed. Anything to pass the time. Maybe then I wouldn’t dwell on the fact that I was spending another weekend night at home. Derek made a few calls, rounding up a couple more players.

The night turned out to be more fun than I would have ever thought. Adam and Tim, who joined us, had been dating for years. The way they talked to each other reminded me of my parents. Adam was over-the-top dramatic and terrible at poker. You could tell how good his hand was by the degree of
gasp
he let out each time the cards were dealt. Tim kept reminding him poker was a game of mystery and the goal was to try and fool the other players, but Adam couldn’t care less about deceiving anyone. Derek thought he had game, but I’d played cards with him enough times to know his tells. If he sat forward in his chair, his hand was good. If he leaned back like he didn’t have a care in the world, he had a crappy hand. It was Tim who was harder to read. I lost thirty bucks to him before I finally figured out his particular weakness. Once I realized he would pat Adam’s knee when he was bluffing, I not only won back my money, but most of his also. It was ironic that I sucked so badly at math but I was a poker stud.

“Damn, girl, you’re on fire,” Adam said as I added another pile of chips to my growing stacks.

“Yeah, thanks so much for the heads-up, Derek,” Tim muttered, frowning at his cards.

Derek laughed. “Don’t feel bad. Tressa always takes everyone to the cleaners.”

“We can always play strip poker if you’re tired of losing money,” I joked.

“Honey, I haven’t been to the gym in weeks, and the way you play, it sure as hell isn’t going to be you sitting here topless,” Adam laughed.

I blew him a kiss. Derek watched me like a protective mother bird. He looked satisfied by the fun I was having.

We ran out to get pizza and beer, which was my treat since I’d taken everyone’s money. When we got back with our goodies, we sat around talking and joking. Adam and Tim were a lot of fun. It had been ages since I’d sat around shooting the shit with friends when we weren’t at some party. The last time I remember it happening was when Ashton and Brittni were in Woodfalls this past summer.

Cameo returned home while we were hanging out. She staggered in looking more than a little tipsy. I felt guilty. We’d made a pact, and I’d left her high and dry by not going to the party. Chad walked in behind her, so at least she hadn’t walked home alone.

Cameo tugged on his hand, leading him toward her room. He shot us a shit-eating grin before trailing behind her.

“On that note, I think it’s time we call it a night,” Adam said, climbing off the couch. He gave me an exuberant hug before doing the same with Derek. Tim’s hug was more restrained, like he was afraid I’d get the wrong idea if he pulled me in too close. We made plans to hang out again after they chided Derek for hiding me away so long.

“Don’t let her fool you. This is an all-new Tressa. Normally, she’d be hanging from the ceiling or trying to sled off the top of the roof,” Derek defended himself.

They looked at me skeptically, convinced that Derek was messing with them.

“He’s lying. I’m always mellow yellow,” I answered, looking at them demurely. I started laughing almost immediately. “Okay, so he’s right. I’m not exactly a princess, but I’m trying to buckle down a little.”