Ten
Ten
When I cross the threshold of the house, I can smell roasted chicken and potatoes, my favorite dish. Mom always prepares it with a ton of aromatic herbs from her garden. She grows all kinds. It’s one of her passions after mud baths at the spa and good wine.
“I’m home,” I announce as I take off my shoes. I hang up my jacket and put my bag on the dark wooden bench in the hall. I feel the urgent need to dash into the shower, but first I have to say hi to my mother. I quickly tidy myself up in the mirror, not wanting her to notice how disheveled I’ve been by the confusion of the past few hours. She would surely start asking questions that I wouldn’t know how to answer.
I stare intently at my own reflection. I am pale. My gray eyes are overlarge, and even I can see the wounded, exhausted look in them. The long black hair makes me look even gloomier. Maybe I should stop dyeing it and go back to my natural blond? I sigh heavily and give my cheeks a little pinch, hoping to give the appearance of color. Then, I paste on a fake smile and make my entrance.
From the living room, I can hear the buzz of the television. I head there and find my mother on the sofa with her legs bent to the side and one elbow resting on the armrest, as she flips through one of her back issues of Vogue . Her hair is up in its usual chignon, and she’s wearing the vintage-style eyeglasses she uses only at home, because, according to her, they age her. She already has her pajamas on, a beige satin set, one of Victor’s latest expensive gifts.
The more I look at her, the more I wonder how she does it. How can she so effortlessly exude elegance from every pore?
“I’ve been waiting all day for you. What happened?”
“Travis’s practice ran long. I’m going upstairs for a minute to wash up,” I tell her, leaning on the doorknob.
“Hurry up, dinner will be ready in forty minutes,” she answers, never taking her eyes off her magazine.
“How come you’re not with Victor tonight?”
“He had some urgent work to do.”
I can’t help but smile a bitter little smile. We have reached the point where she only thinks about me when Victor isn’t available. I go up to my room, quickly shed my filthy clothes, and dash into the shower. As the hot water washes over me, I try to let it wash away the bad mood that’s been keeping me company for a while now.
I step out of the shower and gather my hair into my usual turban before slipping into my bathrobe. In my room, I put on a clean and nice-smelling pair of pajamas before returning to my mother on the couch.
“Were you watching something?” I point to the television set with the remote.
“No, go ahead.”
While channel surfing, I make an effort to strike up a conversation with the woman next to me, who bears only a slight resemblance to me.
“How was the law office?” I ask, resting my head on the armrest and stretching out my legs.
“Oh, fine. They hired a new intern yesterday; it’s her first job.”
“Why didn’t you tell me they were looking for staff? I would have applied right away. I’m good with tasks that require precision,” I grumble regretfully.
“And why would you ever do that?” she asks, a little miffed, as she turns the pages of her magazine.
“To contribute to expenses. I need to get myself out there, and I want to start being more independent,” I tell her in what I hope is a convincing way, fiddling with the wet hair near my ear that has escaped from my turban.
“There’s no need. I manage all the expenses very well, with Victor’s help. You just think about studying.” She smiles at me and adds, “Besides, your résumé would have been trashed anyway.”
“Why?” I frown.
“They don’t hire family members of their employees to avoid nepotism.”
“Well, in any case, I do plan to get a job, so…”
She pulls her glasses down to the tip of her nose and interrupts me. “I don’t want you getting a job. It would hold you back in your studies, and that cannot happen, not after all the effort I’ve put in to get you this far.” She scowls.
Here it comes. She’s butting into my life as usual.
“I am perfectly capable of balancing school and work. Lots of students do it. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“I don’t care what ‘lots of students do.’ You do as I say,” she retorts testily, emphasizing the last two words.
“Mom, I’m almost twenty years old. You do realize that you’re treating me like I’m twelve, don’t you? I’m going to get a job, end of story,” I snap, giving her a look that brooks no dissent. I’ve had enough of people trying to control my life for one day.
She tightens her lips into a hard line and looks at me, enraged. She is about to explode, I can see it in her eyes. But I am ready—more than ready—to face all her wrath. In fact, I can’t wait. I’d like to let off some steam of my own. But then, to my enormous surprise, she heaves a giant sigh and pronounces, “Fine. Whatever.”
“R-really?” I stammer incredulously.
“Yes. You’re an adult now. If you think you can handle it all, I don’t see why you shouldn’t try.”
I look at her, stunned. I must have wound up in some sort of parallel dimension or something. I can’t think of any other reason she would just give in like that.
“Okay, well…thanks,” I murmur confusedly.
“You’re welcome.” She dismisses me and returns her gaze to the magazine.
I stare at her skeptically for a few seconds, still put off by her sudden reasonableness. I turn to the television in the hopes of finding a distraction, but all I do is fall into a pit of negative thoughts. One in particular stands out among the rest: Thomas. The spite and shamelessness with which he uttered those disgusting words, his face full of scorn.
I can’t help feeling bitter, hurt, reduced to an object. If he had found me appealing, would he have used me for that? Just to get off? And is he assuming that I would have let him, without batting an eye? But since I didn’t get his dick hard, he decided instead to use me to goad Travis by putting on that whole charade about wanting to be my friend. How stupid was I to believe his intentions were good? It explained his sudden change of heart when he asked me to stay there with him. He must have planned everything from the start. He knew that Travis would come out shortly and see us together and, like an idiot, I walked right into his trap.
“Are you all right?” my mother asks without looking away from the magazine, bringing me back to reality.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I hasten to answer in as indifferent a manner as possible.
“Are you sure? You were staring off into space like you were in a trance.” She tilts her head toward me, looking into my eyes.
“Yes, Mother. I’m sure. When is dinner ready? I’m hungry,” I say trying to change the subject.
Fortunately for me, the oven timer trills just then, and my mother gets to her feet. “Now,” she says.
Silence hangs heavy over the table during dinner, interrupted only by the small sounds of cutlery on plates. I can occasionally sense my mother’s inquisitive glances and wish with all my heart that I wasn’t such an open book.
“I’ve been wondering,” I say after a while, hoping to throw her off the scent, “when did you realize things weren’t working with Dad anymore?”
She gives me a sideways look, her cutlery suspended in midair over the plate. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, we never really talked about it. I was a little girl when it happened, but I’d like to know more about it now.”
“I think it’s better not to dredge up the past,” she responds with her usual aplomb. Then she looks at me, suddenly alarmed. “Everything is okay with Travis, right?” Her insinuation catches me off guard. Flustered, I start tapping my fingers nervously on the rim of my glass. She would flip out if I told her the truth.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I lie, having no other choice. She releases a breath, relieved.
“I wanted to talk to you too, actually,” she continues, crossing her arms on the table. I brace myself for the worst. “Things have been going really well with Victor, you know. We’ve been dating for a few months now, and I’d like for you to meet him. Officially, I mean. Maybe at a family dinner?”
Stop. What? No. Absolutely not.
“Don’t make that face,” she rebukes me. “I haven’t felt this way—so happy and full of excitement—in years, and it’s all because of him,” she harangues. “It would mean a lot to me,” she insists, stretching her arms across the table to take my hands in hers.
“Mom, you know I hate these things,” I whine.
“Please, Vanessa, can you do this for me? To make your mother happy?”
I sigh resignedly. Damn her and damn me for being incapable of saying “no.” “Fine, Mom. Plan a dinner.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. How about Friday?” she chirps impatiently.
“No, Friday is the game, and right after, we’re going to a party,” I unenthusiastically explain to her.
“Where? And since when do you go to parties?” she inquires with an arched brow.
“It will be at Tiffany’s friend’s house. And I go to parties. Rarely. But I do go,” I clarify.
“Is Travis going with you?”
I blink, puzzled. “Of course, Mom.”
“That’s okay, then. I trust him.” She raises her hands in surrender. “Could we do Saturday?” she suggests.
“Saturday is fine,” I concede with a smile.
“Marvelous!”
We clear the table together and load the dishwasher. Mom invites me to go into the living room with her to watch some TV, but I’m not in the mood. Today has exhausted me. So much has happened that I haven’t even had the time to process it all—I just want to sleep and not think.
In my room, I let myself fall into bed. Closing my eyes, I plumb the abyss of my thoughts, searching for a shred of sense. The sense that I have never lacked, until the moment I chose to approach the one person I should have kept far away from.
***
After a night of restless dreams, I wake up, still a little fuzzy-headed, before the alarm clock goes off. A true rarity. I go down to the kitchen to eat breakfast and find a note under a magnet on the refrigerator. It’s from Mom, apologizing because she had to run off to work. I crumple it up and throw it in the garbage. There really isn’t much in the refrigerator, but I manage to find two eggs and an almost empty carton of orange juice. I make a mental note to get groceries as soon as possible.
After making breakfast and cleaning up, I go up to my room to get dressed. I decide on a pair of black, high-waisted jeans that are a little more snug than usual. I pair them with a lightweight purple sweater that I tuck in to the waistband before spritzing my favorite perfume on my wrists and neck. For the first time since the semester began, I pull the straightener through my hair and apply light eye makeup. Today, I feel the need to boost my low self-esteem.
Before I go downstairs, I peek out the window to see whether Travis has arrived. His truck is parked in the driveway, and he’s waiting for me, leaning up against the front end. I can tell from the frown on his face that he’s still resentful about the night before.
I pull on my black leather over-the-knee boots and check out my backside in the mirror. I notice that the jeans showcase it a little too much, so I grab a long cardigan and wear it over my sweater. Now I’m ready to go. I walk toward Travis slowly and, when I finally reach him, he smiles at me, banishing the specter of resentment from his face.
“Hel—”
He doesn’t give me a chance to finish but instead wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me passionately, leaving me stunned. So he’s not mad anymore?
“You look beautiful this morning.” He gestures for me to do a spin. “What’s different about you?”
“Nothing!” I squeak, blushing.
“I missed you last night,” he says, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Travis, I’m so sorry about what happened, I really am.”
He places two fingers over my mouth. “Shh, let’s forget about it. I’ve been thinking about it all night. I went too far. I took out my anger on you when he is the problem,” he explains, guilt all over his face.
“I know, it won’t happen again,” I reassure him. “You are my boyfriend, you don’t like him, and I don’t like him either. Avoiding him won’t be a problem. Besides, you and I are giving each other a second chance now, and I want to focus on us.” I press my lips to his, and we kiss tenderly.
“My parents are out of town until tomorrow. You can sleep over tonight,” he says mischievously.
“Sure.” I stand on tiptoes to caress his cheek.
In the car, Travis seems cheerful, putting on a playlist with Harry Styles songs and reminding me about the concert. For a while, his unexpected good humor manages to make me forget about last night’s fight.
When we arrive on campus, however, I immediately catch sight of Matt and Tiffany chatting intently. I hope Matt has kept his mouth shut about the mess yesterday. The last thing I need right now is a dressing-down from my best friend. Travis stops to laugh with them, and I use the distraction to slip away like a thief in the night. I head for my literary criticism class, but, just when I think I’m safe, Tiffany grabs me.
“Missy, you and I need to talk.”
My friend is itching for me to tell her what happened. I’m itching to murder Matt.
Since I am only allowed to do one of those things, I tell her everything in great detail as we walk down the hall.
“So. Let’s recap.” She taps her index finger on her chin. “He asked you to stay with him, and you guys talked for more than an hour under a very romantic starry sky. He gave you his bandana so that you wouldn’t get dirty. When he came this close to your lips, he backed off, and, after my brother caught you, he gave you a classic Collins-style snub?”
Collins-style? Is that a thing?
“Yeah, that’s more or less how it went. So?” I cross my arms, waiting for an explanation.
Tiffany stands in front of me and puts her hands on my shoulders, her expression both amused and resigned.
“So, what?” I urge her.
She lets out a long sigh. “You’re in deep shit, gorgeous, up to your neck.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“At first, I thought my brother was just being paranoid, but now I’m beginning to think he’s on to something.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t follow,” I say, confused.
“Wake up! You’ve piqued his interest.” She punctuates each word with such conviction that I burst into gales of laughter.
“Did you hear what I just said?” I thought my story had been pretty clear.
“Yeah, I heard,” she says resolutely.
“He literally told me to my face that he doesn’t like me! And in such a gentlemanly fashion too!”
Tiffany shrugs her shoulders. “He didn’t say it to you, he said it to your boyfriend. That’s completely different.”
“It’s not different at all, because I was right there, inches away from him. He might as well have said it to me!”
“Look, I know this hard for you to understand, because you’ve had only one boyfriend in your whole life, and, to your great misfortune, it’s been my brother, but you can’t listen to what people like Thomas say. You have to watch what they do. From what you’ve told me, he is showing you something else—”
I interrupt her because it’s clear that she has lost her mind. “He hasn’t shown me anything! He was making fun of me, bringing out his Don Juan bullshit only to blow me off the next minute. And this surprises me? Why? He’s an asshole, and that’s what assholes do,” I say, raising my voice a little too much.
When I realize this, I look around embarrassed and pull a bit of my hair forward to cover my face.
“How can you be so naive, Vanessa?”
No, sir. I have been, in the past, but now I see everything clearly. Thomas just enjoyed teasing and humiliating me. He even admitted it: “You’re easy prey.” Tiffany can’t talk to me like I’m a little kid who just found out the tooth fairy isn’t real. It’s irritating.
“I am not naive, I just tell it like it is. Since I met him, he’s been giving me nothing but grief, and unless you’re five years old, you don’t constantly annoy the person you like.”
Tiffany doesn’t seem convinced, but I ignore her and continue, “Anyway, it doesn’t matter whether he likes me or not, I promised Travis that I would stay away from him. It won’t be a problem because I don’t like him.”
She lets out a laugh. “Well, good luck then, you’ll need it. All three of you!” She snickers. She pushes me into the literary criticism classroom with a swat on the butt. I stick out my tongue at her.
After class, I decide to spend a few hours in the library. I quickly find my favorite spot, a secluded corner between the window and two rows of shelves. I place my bag on the round table and let myself sink into the chair.
About forty minutes later, I am in “mad and desperate study” mode with my hair pulled back into a low, tousled bun, a pen wedged between my teeth, and my notebook right under my nose.
When I realize that I need two books to delve deeper into the topic I am studying, I get up and head for the correct shelves. I walk down the aisle of books, trailing my index finger across the spines, but no luck. I lift my gaze to one of the topmost shelves and, of course, one of the books is right there. Two shelves above my head. I look around for a step stool but can’t find one, so I have no choice but try to reach it on tippy-toes. I extend one arm and stretch my fingers as far as I can toward the shelf, to no avail. I grit my teeth and rest my heels back on the ground, resigned.
Suddenly I feel a presence looming around my shoulders, like a cloak. An arm wrapped in black leather passes close to the side of my face; I feel the solidity of a broad chest pressing against my back, making me wince.
“Why am I not surprised to find you here?” The low rasp of a voice that is becoming all too familiar blows hot on my neck, and it feels like my heart skips a beat.
For a few stunned seconds, I try to regulate my heartbeat and blink repeatedly to bring myself back to reality. Thomas then tucks the book into my hands and moves to the side to lean back against the shelf. He turns his gaze to me and crosses his arms over his chest. “Hello, stranger.”
I can’t believe it. The audacity to come here and bother me in my happy place! I glower at him, annoyed, before ignoring him to keep searching for the second book. He falls into step beside me as if nothing has happened, with his hands sunk into his jacket pockets.
“You’re pissed off,” he notes, unflappable, while I resolutely keep my eyes focused on the aisle of books at my left. I do not utter a word.
“So, that’s the trick to shutting you up.” He lets the sentence hang for a moment and then concludes, “I’ve just gotta piss you off. I’ll keep that in mind.”
I grit my teeth, increasingly irritated. I try to convince myself that if I just ignore him long enough, he will go away. I walk over to a stack of books and start plucking them out one at a time in the hopes of finding the one I need. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Thomas to my right, opening a pack of cigarettes and tucking one behind his ear. I release the air I had been holding in my lungs. For a moment, I thought he was going to try to smoke in here.
“Okay, you don’t wanna talk. So I’ll talk.” He looks around, bored, and rubs his chin with one hand. “How’s your boyfriend? He was in pretty bad shape yesterday,” he sneers. “Did you tend to his wounds?”
“Listen carefully, Thomas,” I say, with a threatening look. Once again, he’s managed to make me lose my temper, and he seems pleased about it. “People come here to study in silence. Don’t you have anything better to do? Like, I don’t know, harassing old people at bus stops? Setting things on fire? Maybe attacking people unprovoked? I know you’re really good at that.”
“I’d rather bother you. It’s more fun,” he whispers with his usual shit-eating grin.
“Stop it!” I hiss through clenched teeth to avoid being overheard. “Did you come here just to make fun of me? Save it, I’m not going to let you.” I turn with the book clutched to my chest and make to walk away. Thomas, however, grabs me by the wrist and pulls me to him.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter with me?” I growl, unable to hold back my anger any longer. “Do you even realize how ridiculous you are? All you do is harass me, constantly trash-talking my boyfriend. Last night you went nuts on him and then, not content with that, you took the liberty of…ugh, forget it!” If we were outdoors, I would probably have already been screaming at the top of my lungs.
He speaks with the air of one laying it all out clearly. “I’m not gonna apologize to you for hitting him. I’ll remind you that he threw the first punch. Did you expect me to just stand there and take it? I was happy to give it right back to him and, for your information, I was holding back.”
“I want to be very clear: Don’t think for one second that I will let you use me. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I won’t be put in the middle of it,” I hiss.
Thomas looks confused. “Do you think I’m using you?”
“I don’t think so, I know so.” For a moment, his expression darkens, but I don’t understand why.
“You’re full of shit.” He sighs, rubbing his forehead with his thumb. “If I want something from a woman, I can get it without any tricks.”
“What you said to Travis was disgusting,” I mutter.
“I’ll give you the chance to prove me wrong, anytime you want,” he taunts. My eyes widen with indignation and I look around quickly. Fortunately, we are alone in our aisle.
“You…you’re really sleazy. And disrespectful.”
“Would it make you feel better if I apologized?” he asks, with a new gravity in his voice. He steps toward me, forcing me to step back.
“It would show that you’re sorry, at least,” I whisper.
“But I’m not. I’m not sorry about what I did. I was pissed off, but I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. Nor was I trying to use you. However, I needed your boyfriend to get the message loud and clear.” He takes another step toward me. I step back, until I run into the shelf and feel it pressed up against my back. He rests his hands on the shelf to either side of my head, caging me in. My throat tightens, and my breath quickens. I feel small under his imposing bulk. “Believe it or not, I was with you last night because I wanted to be with you.”
My heart beats faster at the sound of his words. I lower my eyes, unable to hold his gaze. He tilts my chin up with one finger until I am looking in his eyes again. I swallow uncomfortably.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. I can’t trust you, and that won’t change,” I admit. I feel an inexplicable twinge of sadness when I see his eyes darken. “Besides, the two of us have nothing in common,” I add. “You don’t get along with my boyfriend, and I can’t risk ruining what we have for—”
“All right, then,” Thomas interrupts me brusquely in a cold, impersonal voice tinged with resentment. “Whatever you want.” With a sudden movement that leaves me off-balance, he straightens up and removes his hand from the side of my face, putting distance between us. I realize only now that all the muscles in my body were tensed.
I am filled with a disappointment that I shouldn’t feel.
“Okay,” I murmur with equal detachment, certain that this is the best solution for everyone. Confused and dissatisfied, I watch him walk away with long strides.