Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
GUNS N’ ROSES, “SWEET CHILD O’ MINE”
Ben
Laurel laughed at everything I said. I couldn’t hear her, but I felt her. She was growing on me, not like Gabby, but enough to make me leave my room for a trip to McDonald’s or the bowling alley. And my relationship with her seemed to pacify my parents and keep them off my back.
I had a job.
I had a friend.
No one seemed to care that I still didn’t feel like I had much of a purpose in life.
If you weren’t so young, I’d invite you to my apartment.
Laurel slid me the note after I finished wadding up my wrapper and stuffed it into the bag.
When I eyed her with a raised eyebrow, she returned a flirty grin while blushing. She was pretty enough. Curly, blond hair and blue eyes. She was shorter than me, maybe even shorter than Gabby, but she had huge breasts.
“You’re twenty-three, not forty-three,” I said, not because I wanted to go to her apartment. I was just stating a fact: She wasn’t that much older than me.
She bit her lip and batted her long eyelashes.
Was she cute? Yes. Did I like her big boobs? Sure. Had I thought about having sex with her? Of course. Was I going to? Not likely.
She signed something and then wrote.
Come to my apartment.
If I went there, we were going to have sex. I wasn’t stupid. And after the fact, I would hate myself because I took Gabby’s virginity, and I had a stack of unopened letters from her in my room. I felt an odd responsibility to let Gabby know I was moving on before actually moving on. And I pitied whoever came after Gabby, who would always feel like the only girl for me.
Laurel wasn’t really me “moving on,” she was just a good time. I enjoyed hanging out with her. And if we had sex, I felt certain I wouldn’t be taking her virginity, and she wouldn’t expect it to mean anything.
“Maybe another time,” I said.
Laurel nodded. She was cool like that.
We dumped our garbage on the way out, and she hugged me before waving goodbye and getting into her beige Toyota Corolla.
As soon as I arrived home, I headed straight to my room—my spotless room. I inspected it for a few seconds, not sure how I felt about someone (probably my mom) invading my space. All of my Legos were in bins. My bed was made. The trash was empty instead of overflowing. And my desk was cleared, except for the journal and pen from Gabby.
My parents had been on my case to clean my room, clearly my mom was tired of waiting.
I turned when someone tapped my shoulder. Tillie scowled at me.
“What?”
She handed me a note. Whatever she had to say was premeditated and scripted before I got home.
I cleaned your room.
I nodded. “I didn’t ask you to, so if you’re waiting for a thank-you, you’ll be waiting for a long time.”
She handed me a second notecard.
I found a pile of letters from Gabby.
I shook my head and shrugged. “So?”
You never opened them.
Again, I shrugged.
Tillie averted her gaze for a few seconds while worry lines etched along her brow.
She handed me another notecard.
I read them.
I frowned. “Stay out of my stuff.”
She nodded toward my nightstand, where the letters were neatly stacked.
You’re an asshole.
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks. I’m aware. Stay out of my business.”
Tillie smacked the notecard into my chest with a punch, and her lips moved. I didn’t understand her words, but I read the anger in her expression, the emotions in her eyes. I didn’t open Gabby’s letters. So what? Tillie had no idea how much just receiving them hurt me. I didn’t have the strength to read them. And Gabby deserved a man who wasn’t weak like me.
Tillie had one notecard left, and I plucked it from her hand before she willingly gave it to me. Then, I shoved her out of my room and shut the door.
If you don’t read them, I’m telling Mom what’s inside.
Sex.
Gabby must have mentioned we had sex. Did I want my mom reading “how could you treat me that way after taking my virginity” letters? No. But Gabby was angry, and rightfully so. I stared at the letters. Her words would cut deeply because I loved her and hated myself.
I sat on the edge of my bed and picked up the first letter. Tillie had them in the order in which Gabby sent them.
Dear Ben,
How’s your room? Are you making fun Lego creations? I heard a song the other day and thought of you. I’d tell you the name of it, but what does it matter? You can’t hear. That’s your new job, right? Being deaf? Does that pay well? Or do you have a part-time job working for Hallmark? You really should since you have such a way with words. You could write breakup cards.
Did I tell you that Olivia moved out? I have the dorm room all to myself, so when I want to have sex with Matt, no one interrupts us.
I hope you’re doing well. Say hi to Tillie and your parents.
Regards,
Gabby
“Fuck you, Tillie,” I said, tearing the letter into tiny pieces. I wasn’t going to read another word. And if she thought she could blackmail me, she had another thing coming.
I took the next envelope and tore it up.
And the next.
And the next.
I would tell my mom that I had sex with Gabby and deal with her disappointment and the risk that she’d tell Gabby’s parents. But I would not read a pile of letters about Gabby and Matt Fucking Cory.
By the fifth letter, I noticed something in the pile of torn pieces. It wasn’t white paper with writing. There were fragments of dark paper. I fished a couple pieces from the pile, then a couple more. A few of them had white markings. Curiosity took over. I didn’t want her venomous words, but I wanted to see what the black pieces were supposed to be. After I fished out all the dark pieces I could find, I deposited them onto my desk and pieced them together.
“What the fuck?” I stared at them. As panic set in, I grabbed all the torn up letters to put them back together, but it was useless, there were too many pieces.
My heart pounded, so I unfolded the next letter that I hadn’t ripped up yet.
Dear Ben,
The nausea has subsided. Hydrating works well along with a bottle of ginger ale mid-morning. I had a good birthday. Your card to me must have gotten lost in the mail, but thanks for thinking of me.
Our baby has a strong heartbeat.
Our baby.
Our. Baby!
I felt …
Before I could finish that thought, I ran to the bathroom and threw up the contents of my stomach.