Leap (9 page)

I pat the bed in front of me when I see Mack struggling with the thoughts of what could have happened.

He walks towards my bed. His hands are in his pockets again. He kicks the foot of my bed and begrudgingly he sits once I pat the bed again.

I adjust the way I sit. I tuck my legs underneath me and Mack mimics my actions. We sit toe to toe. Just like we did as kids.

Words sometimes aren’t meant to be said. Actions take the place of things we are supposed to say and what we are supposed to feel. Consequences are outcomes of actions; you can’t put yourself in front of them. This is where Mack and I have our understanding.

My hand reaches up and, like I have been doing for the past ten years or so, I rub his scar.

I’m sorry and he knows it. I’m so sorry for not being careful and not thinking before I speak. As he closes his eyes, the heaviness of his head floats into my touch and he knows I’m sorry.

“Dear God, how am I going to cover up these marks on my neck, Mack? They’re purple.”

Mack comes up behind me in the bathroom mirror as I look at the bruises Mark kindly left on my neck. He looks at them with me as I turn my head from side to side, inspecting.

“They’re not as bad as you think. Your hair is long enough to cover up your neck for a few days.”

I look away, frustrated, and puff out air and sit on the lid of the toilet.

“No, Mack, they’re bad. My parents are going to know, especially Mae. She’ll catch on that I’m not wearing my hair in a ponytail. You know her, Mack.”

He smiles and tilts his head to the side, motioning that he agrees with me.

“Yeah, she does follow your every move, but really, Rinny, I think you’ll be okay. Wear a baseball cap and have your hair hang down. Tell her it’s a new look.” I look at him like he can’t be serious. My mother is like some sort of detective. She should have become one instead of staying home to raise me.

I rest my head in my hands. A sick feeling comes over me with the thoughts of how the marks got there in the first place. I feel some bile rise up and, in my weakened state, I manage to launch myself up from the lid and lift it, emptying the contents of the few popsicles I consumed over the last few hours. I feel Mack’s hand on my back and he circles his hand there. I instantly feel more relaxed. I peer up through my watered eyes and see Mack sitting on the edge of the tub. His hand is still on my back.

“Mack, how am I going to cover this up?”

“I told you, Rinny. Wear a baseball cap and your hair down.”

I shake my head along with my trembling body. “No, Mack. How I am going to cover up what happened last night? So many people saw. Everyone knows what he did and what you did to him. It’s going to get back to my parents. You know that, Mack. People talk on this island.” Mack removes his hand from my back. I watch him grab a washcloth and wet it in the sink. I feel Mack kneel beside me as I hang onto the porcelain throne. I feel his hand go to the back of my neck, and then the washcloth hits my forehead. He tilts me back and I rest my butt on my heels. I close my eyes and welcome the coolness of the cloth.

Mack sighs. “You’re not going to have to cover anything up. We’re in this together. I don’t care that I beat the shit out of him. He probably didn’t report me to the cops because there were so many witnesses, and the chicken shit is scared. I even doubt he went to the hospital after I beat him.”

I take his hand away from my face and look at him in disbelief.

“Hospital? Mack, what did you do to him?” I’m afraid of the answer but also curious.

“Rinny, he tried to rape you. You think he looked like the Prom King when I got through with him? I felt his nose break as soon as I punched it, and I had to have broken a few ribs of his. Maybe a stitch or two in other places. Who knows? I carried you out of there, grabbed a cab and came straight here.”

He’s so casual about it, and I want to throw up again. I squeeze my eyes tightly and slam down the lid to the toilet.

“Damn it, Mack. You think beating the shit out of him was going to make everything better? I guarantee it made it worse. I’ll be looked at as a whore, or the opposite. The girl who doesn’t put out.” Mack throws the washcloth across the bathroom and stands up.

“What the fuck, Corrine! Why do you care if you're the girl who doesn’t put out? So what. Who cares? If I were you, I’d rather be cast as the girl who
isn’t
some slut that sleeps with any guy with a social security number. What’s worse, Rinny?” His voice booms in anger, and even though I’ve heard him yell at me for stupid stuff, the tone takes on a different meaning. “Answer me because I’m here with you—because of you. So I need you to tell me what the big deal is about your virginity. Who cares if you're going into college and you haven’t done it yet? Save it for someone you give a shit about, Rinny. Save it for someone who gives a shit about you. Not someone like Mark. Please.”

I sit back and lean my back against the tub, raising my knees to my chest.

I have to try to explain this to him as best as I can. Why it’s not all about losing my virginity. It’s about love and being in love. I want him to know why it’s important to me. The whole thing. He may not understand it, but I have to tell him. He’s my brother, my best friend, and if I can’t tell him, then whom can I tell.

“You have to just listen to me, Mack, and understand. All my life I watched my parents just exist with each other. I’m sure they love each other and at least respect each other. I mean my dad usually falls asleep on the couch most nights and stays there, they don’t kiss or hug or show any kind of affection towards each other. They never go out on dates alone. They never go away alone. Not like your parents. They went out on dates alone a lot and your dad always bought your mom flowers and shit. He showed her how much he loved her in so many ways.” His face drops. No doubt I hit a sore spot because he remembers the way his parents were towards one another before his dad died.

I rub my head again. “I’m sorry, Mack.” He shrugs.

“It’s okay. Go on.”

“I need to feel a connection to someone. I want what they don’t have. I know I’m young, but I need it. I crave it. The affection, the intimacy, Mack. I want that. I can’t explain why I want that part of it so much, but I do. I’m a woman. I’ve kissed guys and gone down on guys . . .” He groans.

“Sorry. I know. Too much info.” Even the truth unsettles him but he has to realize I’m being real here. I have needs and feelings.

Mack settles down beside me against the tub and stretches his long legs in front of him—almost touching the cabinetry of the sink in front of us. He takes in a long breath and appears to hold it like doing that will help him think of some kind of physiological thing to say.

I sneak a sideways glance at him and nudge him with my shoulder.

“Mack, I know you won’t understand. You’ve had countless girlfriends who you’ve slept with. Didn’t you feel any sort of connection to them? Didn’t you feel anything for them?”

He answers truthfully as always and I’m not surprised.

“No, not really and I don’t think I was supposed to either. Let me lay it out there for you. For a guy, you see a girl and she’s pretty and that's what your think at first. Then you automatically think with your dick. It’s nature, it’s natural, it’s just the way guys are. First time I got laid—" He stops for a brief second and pauses and looks to me for permission to continue.

Letting out a sigh I tell him, “I’m listening, Mack.”

“First time I had sex was behind Martin’s Deli in Bellmore with Kristy Surplus in her older cousin's car.”

I smile. “Don’t you mean Kristy Slurp-less? Remember when you told me when she used to go down on you she used to . . .”

Mack holds up his hand to shut me up knowing quite well what I mean. He tells me everything so of course I know that Kristy Surplus or Slurp-less used to be a saliva machine when she gave him blowjobs. Quite unusual for a guy to tell his girl best friend about the messy oral sex he received but I’m like one of the guys to him so I tell myself he’s using his embarrassment as a distraction from my own personal nightmare.

“Can you please not remind me of such things, Rinny? I’m aware she slobbered like a Doberman. I have a point to my story if you’d allow me to kindly finish.”

“Well, get to it before I’m fifty.”

“Smartass.”

“True.”

“Anyway, no, I had no feelings for her because all I wanted to do was feel good and, at the time, Kristy was the person who made me feel. Not with my heart or my head but physically. So no, I felt nothing
for
her. And the ones that followed, yes, I liked them but in the end it was all about what they could give me. How they made
me
feel. When I think back to it, now what I feel is bad—guilty even. But I was young. When you're fifteen you don’t think about those things.”

And I ask the question because I always ask it. I have been for the past eight months.

“And now . . . with Veronica it’s different?”

He shrugs. “Well, yeah. We’ve been together for a while now. I like being with her. She makes me laugh.”

If I had anything else left to throw up I would just by that comment. She’s pathetic, fake, and I know what she’s after.

“Yeah, she’s a laugh a minute.” I don’t miss a beat with my dripping sarcasm.

He laughs me off—knowing quite well I don’t like her.

“With Veronica it is different though, Rinny. I want to spend time with her and not just for the sex. I like taking her out on dates and seeing her on the sidelines of my games. Seeing her face in the crowd makes me excited.”

And through his whole explanation, I think back to him asking me every five minutes if I was coming to his game and if I was going to take pictures. He badgered me. He also knew I would never miss a single game. So I guess me being on the bleachers wasn’t his only concern. Her being there mattered as well.

My chin tilts down and there's a feeling inside my heart that isn't supposed to be there and that's disappointment. Disappointment because now I know Mack was not only looking for me in the thickness of the crowd but also Veronica. I’m not being reasonable with feeling this way. I’m lost in a sea of emotions anyway. It’s not jealousy and it’s not anger either. It’s simply unexplainable.

Mack continues to talk, “Anyway, I want that for you, Rinny. I want you to see your someone through the crowd and get that feeling. I want you to feel happy and excited. I want that guy to get that feeling when he sees you too.”

I want that too but will I ever find it with anyone. I feel a disconnection within my soul because I’m afraid I’m not capable of it because of how my parents are. Maybe I’m just already programmed to feel that way. Maybe there's a roadblock somewhere in my genetic makeup. I wonder what I did to deserve what happened to me last night. Mack talking to me temporarily made my anxious thoughts drift away but only for a sliver in time and that time is up.

“I thought he liked me, Mack.”

My headache has returned and before I give Mack a chance to tell me that Mark didn’t give two shits about me the house phone rings. We both look at each other knowing it’s my parents or his mom calling. Panic strikes me because if I talk to them I know they’ll be able to hear it in my voice. The panic.

“Answer it for me, Mack. I can’t bear the twenty questions thing with Mae.”

He stands up and gently pulls me up by my weak arms.

“I’ll diffuse the bomb. You shower, okay?”

I nod. Mack leaves the confines of my bathroom, which is attached to my bedroom and answers the phone as I shut the door. I hear him speak, and I know he’s talking to my mother. She must ask to speak with me, but he tells her I’m not feeling well and I’m asleep. He tells her not to worry, he’s staying with me, and it’s nothing serious. Just a little stomach bug. With my ear pressed to the door, I hear him tell her it's not necessary to come home. I’m fine. She’s probably giving him shit but he uses the dead dad card and begs for sympathy for his mom. Mack tells my mother that Jocelyn needs this time away and to please show her some fun. She must agree because I hear him tell her that he will call her in the morning with an update on how I’m feeling.

Way to go, Mack. Always knowing how to handle my mom. And I’m once again grateful for Mack coming to my rescue.

Showering quickly is not an easy feat, especially when you still feel like the drugs you were administered without your permission linger in your system. When I finish rinsing my hair and exit the shower—sitting on the sink is a fresh pair of my pajamas and a cup of tea. Mack must have snuck in while I was in the shower and placed them there. The boy is always thinking. And so am I. The image of the way Mack looked dressed in his tuxedo reverberates suddenly as I stand wiping the moisture off the mirror in front of me. I’ve never thought of Mack as anything other than a brother, but something about the way he looked that night—I don’t know why I can’t get his image out of my mind. I’m not ashamed to admit I was attracted to the way he looked. I’d actually be a blind fool to think of Mack as
not
attractive.

I look at myself in the mirror and study my appearance. It’s smudged like the glass I’m staring into. The empty feeling returns to my belly as quickly as it disappeared. I see the way my eyes look. No amount of hot water and soap will ever make me feel clean. I shudder at the thought of being touched when I shouldn't have been. I’m so stupid. I’m so silly. I thought Mark liked me. I thought it was my personality. I thought it was everything he said that he liked about me. My eyes, my laugh, my smile. Lies. All lies. My tears return to my swollen and barren eyes. I’m not worth it for someone just to want me for me. For someone to look deeper into me, at who I am rather than what's underneath my clothes. I feel a burning begin on my newly cleansed skin. It starts from my feet and travels up towards my neck and this feeling makes me start to shake, and I can’t breathe. No air is inside my lungs. No matter how I try to suck in air, there is none. I gasp and strangle out a cry to Mack. I can hardly hear myself, but he does. He rushes in. The door hits the wall and he wraps his arms around me.