Forty
Forty
With my heart beating wildly, I spin around, sending my entire dinner sliding disastrously off my tray.
“Dammit!” I curse under my breath. I crouch down and pick up pieces of chicken and lettuce that are scattered all around.
“Sorry,” Logan say, crestfallen. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He crouches down to help me pick up the rest of the food remnants. Fingers trembling with anxiety, I pull my hair out from behind my ears and, coward that I am, I use it to hide from his gaze.
“N-no, don’t worry, you didn’t. I just wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I blurt out in one breath, continuing to pick food up from the ground.
“I wanted to surprise you, but apparently that was a bad idea,” he answers, embarrassed.
“What are you talking about? I’m glad you’re back…” Only now do I notice that he’s holding a bouquet of red roses. I swallow the lump in my throat, overwhelmed with guilt. Because, since the moment he left, I’ve done nothing but ignore him. Because, since the moment he left, while he was thinking about me, I was thinking about Thomas. Because he left thinking he had me and returned unaware that he had lost me. And now he is here, with a bouquet of roses, eager to spend time with me, but I can’t even look him in the face because I’m too ashamed. “A-are those roses for me?” I ask in a trembling voice.
“Who else would they be for?” he answers, handing them to me with a big smile.
He takes the tray with one hand and helps me up with the other. When I get back on my feet, with the roses in my hands, it seems completely natural to plunge my nose into them and sniff deeply. A sweet scent overwhelms me and I close my eyes.
“These are beautiful, Logan, really,” I murmur, observing the red petals underneath my nose. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, I was happy to do it,” he says touching my cheek. “Each rose represents a moment when I thought of you.” He moves closer, clearly intending to kiss me, but I can’t let that happen. It’s not fair to him. But what am I supposed to tell him? I’m sorry, Logan, you can’t kiss me because, while you were away, I got involved in a strange quasi-relationship with Thomas, and if he were to see us here together you’d end up in the hospital and he would, in all likelihood, end up in jail? I’ve always believed that honesty is the best policy and I intend to end things with him honestly, but not like this, not in a cafeteria, surrounded by gossipy people. And just a few minutes after he got back to boot! Logan deserves to know what I did with Thomas; I need to show him the same respect he showed me during our entire acquaintance.
When he is just inches from my lips, I react instinctively; I drop the bouquet on the ground and, with a snap, I duck out of his way to pick them up. Logan is stunned.
“God, I am such a klutz. All the coffees I had today are taking their toll,” I explain myself with a nervous chuckle as he watches me warily, rubbing the back of his head.
“Okay, maybe it’d be better if we went and sat somewhere?” he ask, his face twisting with confusion.
“Yes,” I say with my head still hanging down, “maybe that’s for the best.” He puts an arm around my waist and guides me to a nearby table. We are facing each other, so at least the table will keep us at a distance. “So, how are you?” I ask, trying to conceal my discomfort. “Did the trip go well?”
“Yeah, very chill, I like driving.” He takes off his jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair.
“How far is Medford from here?” I arrange the roses on the empty part of the table next to me.
“On the PCH, it’s about three and a half hours.”
“For some reason, I thought it was farther away.” I stop to think for a moment and involuntarily, I begin peeling the cuticle from my thumb. “Did everything go well with your family? Did you celebrate?”
“Everything’s fine,” he answers vaguely. “But I don’t really want to talk about that right now.” He takes my hand and clasps it between his own. “I haven’t seen or heard from you for a week—I want to know about you, how you are, what you’ve been up to, how long the chocolates I bought lasted you…” He says it jokingly, but I can’t help fidgeting in my chair.
If only he knew that those chocolates never touched my mouth, but were instead gobbled up by Thomas, he wouldn’t look at me with that adoring expression on his face anymore. My palms are sweating and I can feel my throat getting dry. I slip my hand from his grasp and, with both hands, I rearrange the few strands of hair sticking out of my braid. Looking him in the eye, I gather all my courage and start talking. “Um, I’m fine, studying is fine and the chocolates were…good,” I say around the lump in my throat. “But there is something I’d like to talk to you about…”
“I’m not sure,” he interrupts me, looking at something behind me with a furrowed brow, “but I think Shana Kennest is coming over here.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine. “What?” With a nod, he invites me to turn around, but I don’t have time to do it before Shana materializes right in front of us. With her long crimson hair, her very long eyelashes coated in mascara and that thin line of eyeliner that brings out the glacial blue of her eyes. Suddenly, I’m completely on edge.
Standing in front of our table, she crosses her arms over her chest and fixes us with a smug stare. “God, Clark, you don’t let any of ’em get away…” She gives me a malicious look, then turns her attention to Logan and, for a moment, I seem to detect a kind of mutual repressed hatred in their intense gazes. I am almost positive they are giving off some intensely negative vibes. I can practically feel it on my skin.
“Do you need something?” I ask her, annoyed. I already have my own issues to resolve with Logan; I don’t need her presence making everything worse.
She reluctantly tears her eyes off Logan and focuses back on me. “Actually, yes.”
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to expand on this.
“You know”—she lightly shakes the plastic cup she has in her hand, agitating the liquid inside—“I was wondering… Do you like coconut?”
“Coconut?”
“Yeah, coconut,” she repeats. “Magda, the chef, always sets aside a smoothie for me, but apparently today was coconut day, and alas, it’s not my favorite of the fruits. I’d hate to have to throw it out, so I thought maybe you’d like it.”
I’m stupid, sure, but not that stupid. This sudden courtesy is surely cloaking some sort of meanness. I’d not be surprised to discover that the drink had some sort of laxative or poison in it.
“And why did you think of me?”
“Well, I know your tastes run to the”—she throws another sharp sideways glance at Logan—“second rate.” I notice that he has that same tense frown on his face again.
“Sorry, coconut makes me…vomit,” I say, trying for a little zinger.
Shana curls her lip and exclaims, “Too bad. Guess I’ll just have to throw it out now,” she says, considering the cup.
“Don’t mention it. So, I don’t want to keep you a minute longer…” I gesture for her to walk over to the garbage and recycling bins at the entrance to the cafeteria.
But instead of leaving, she just stands there, completely immobile. “No, I don’t have to go that far. Luckily for me, there’s a true garbage dumpster right in front of me,” she says with a sinister grin.
In a flash, she pours the whitish liquid into my lap, leaving me petrified with shock.
“Oops. What a disaster.” She grins wickedly, holding the glass upside down over me with one hand while, with the other, she covers her mouth. Beneath her fingers, perfectly manicured and painted red, I can see her haughty smirk.
My heart is in my throat. I blink several times, unable to react while the cold juice drips between my legs, through the fabric of my jeans. I look at my stained clothes. I look at the students around us, giggling under their breath, trying not to be obvious. I look at Logan, visibly incensed. He remains motionless, though, as if something is preventing him from speaking, from defending me. I am humiliated.
“I’ll give you a little tip.” I am transfixed by Shana’s sharp voice. “The hand soap in the bathroom works wonders. If I were you, I’d go and clean myself up right away,” she says with a snobbish air. Then she backs away a few steps before letting the plastic cup fall to the ground and smiles coolly at me. Finally, she turns away, crosses to the cafeteria exit and disappears into the hallway.
I look down again at my now-soaked jeans, which give off the sweet smell of coconut.
“Vanessa, why…” Logan rests his forearms on the table and leans toward me. “Why did she do that?”
“Don’t…don’t say a single word.” I take a big breath and force myself to look up at Logan. “I’m going to the bathroom to clean these stains. When I come back, we’re going to pretend this never happened,” I pronounce implacably, with the blood still boiling in my veins. I don’t get why he didn’t say a single word in my defense. I get up slowly and leave, saying nothing else.
I don’t want to cry in front of everyone, but dammit, I really need to cry right now. All I want at this moment is to burrow under my comforter and hug one of my stuffed animals to my chest. Instead, I’m here in this bathroom rubbing soap into my overalls while tears blur my vision.
Why does everything go so wrong? Why do I have to pay such a steep price to get what I want?
I hear the clicking of a pair of heels on the floor and then the bathroom door opens.
“You know, I knew I’d find you in here, whining like some pathetic little girl,” says a sharp voice that I know all too well.
Standing in front of the rectangular mirror above the long row of sinks is Shana, in all her unbearable haughtiness.
“I assume there is something about me being so pathetic that just absolutely fascinates you, Shana. I have no other way to explain it.”
“What is it that you can’t explain?” she asks irritably, taking a tube of scarlet lipstick from the clutch she carries. It matches her hair.
I move closer to her until I’m standing right beside her. “Your obsession with me.”
She looks at me blankly in the mirror for a few seconds before she bursts out laughing. “Sweetie, I am not obsessed with you.”
“Then why do you keep tormenting me like this?”
“Because it’s fun.” She opens the lipstick and applies it to her mouth. “You’re perfect entertainment for these moments of downtime.” She presses her lips together and lightly rubs them. “And, to be honest, I needed to find a way to talk to you.” She pauses and turns to look directly at me. “In private.”
“And to do that, you just had to pour a smoothie on me, in front of everyone?”
“Well, I had to get you in here without asking you directly. Besides, let’s face it, I also wanted to have some fun.”
“Yeah, because you’re a bitch,” I spit, full of vitriol. She brings a hand to her heart and makes an exaggerated pout, pretending to be hurt.
“You really got me there,” she sneers.
My eyes narrow to two slits and, nerves completely shot, I snap at her, “Would you just tell me what your problem is? I mean, do you really think that bullying me will make him come back to you? Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe, just maybe, it’s not actually my fault that he doesn’t want you? That it probably would have happened just the same without me? That maybe having great legs and a tight ass sometimes isn’t enough, if all you have in your skull is sawdust?”
A sort of derisive, devilish laugh escapes her. I wonder whether it’s even possible to hurt this girl.
“You are truly delusional. How long do you think it’ll be before he comes back to me? Hmm? I’ve known Thomas since the day he set foot in this town. Sometimes he wanders, it’s true, but in the end, he always comes back to these ‘great legs.’ Because I give him something he can’t find anywhere else. And I’m not talking about sex, but about so much more.”
It’s as if my whole body has just been charged with an electric shock. My knees are shaking, my head is spinning endlessly.
“Quiet, Clark. It’s quiet that he needs,” she continues, in the face of my clear astonishment.
One word. Five letters. And I crumble like a leaf dry in autumn. Because I get it. I understand what she is saying. Thomas wants “quiet.” A quiet that I am unable to give him because I…I am constant noise.
My questions are noise.
My insecurities are noise.
My fears are noise.
Even my curiosity is noise.
And Thomas doesn’t like noise.
Thomas likes quiet.
“So enjoy it while you can, for as long as he lets you, because sooner or later, he will come back to me. He always comes back,” Shana concludes, without a hint of doubt.
It’s a hard admission to swallow, an admission that hurts. One that scares me. Should I be expecting her words to come true? Should I expect to have to watch him go back to her when things get bad? When he realizes he’s made a mistake? When whatever physical attraction he feels for me is gone? When he starts to see me as a burden, when he gets tired of me… Because, sooner or later, everyone gets tired of me. Will that be the moment… Will he go back to her? I swallow with some difficulty because there’s a knot clogging my throat. “So is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“No,” she says. Just for a moment, it seems like her eyes lose that little spark of hatred they usually always have when she looks at me.
“Then talk. I don’t have time to waste,” I snap impatiently.
“First, I want to make one thing clear: do not make the mistake of thinking that, just because I’m telling you this, things between you and me are going to be any different from now on. I detest you and will continue to do so.”
“I can assure you that the same is true for me.”
“Good. Having established that, I just want to tell you to open up your eyes and pay closer attention to the people around you.”
“Could you give me a little more clarity on that?”
“No. All I can do is tell you something my grandmother used to say a lot. And she was right.” She turns back to the mirror and talks to my reflection. “She used to say that, in this world, there are predators and there are prey. Predators are smart, perceptive, good at disguising their intentions and their emotions. But, beneath the mask, there’s something vile and ruthless. Prey, on the contrary, are docile creatures, defenseless, innocent. So innocent that they believe there’s good in the soul of the predator and let him get close. But the moment the prey finds herself in the predator’s clutches… Well, the prey is doomed, isn’t she?”
I frown at her, even more confused than before.
“I don’t understand what…”
Her cold, unforgiving voice overpowers mine. “I’ll give it to you straight: you are prey, Clark. And, if you’re not careful, you’re gonna end up in the hands of a predator and, at that point…you’ll be done for.”
She picks up her clutch from where it was resting on the sink shelf, turns her back on me and walks out. Leaving me bewildered and struggling in vain to make sense of her words.
As soon as I go back into the cafeteria, I feel a chill run through me from my head to my feet. It’s strange, because I’m not cold and the cafeteria is actually the warmest place in the entire university. I ignore my body’s unusual reaction and pluck up my courage before heading over to Logan.
He is still sitting at our table, wringing his hands with his shoulders tense and his head bowed.
When I’m a few steps away from him, he snaps to attention, standing up and putting his hands on my shoulders. “Oh my God, you’re back! I was starting to get worried. I thought you’d left.” He stares at me with wide eyes and I notice that he’s flushed.
“No, I just had a…visitor,” I say.
At this, Logan stiffens. “In the bathroom? What kind of visitor?” I look at him puzzled, and only then does he try to pull himself together. He smiles at me and sits back down. I do the same.
“Would you believe it if I told you Shana wanted to talk to me? As if humiliating me in front of everyone wasn’t enough for her. No, she had to sink the knife all the way in,” I tell him, thinking back to the one sentence that keeps echoing in my head with the force of a jackhammer: He always comes back.
“What did she want?” he asks with a strange hint of nervousness.
I am about to tell him about the ridiculous little story about “prey and the predator,” when, all of a sudden, the little voice in my head slams on the brakes. Whatever Shana was trying to say to me, she clearly didn’t want anyone else to hear. Though I can’t explain why, I decide to keep quiet, to abide by her wishes and not tell Logan anything.
“Nothing, she just wanted to spit more cruelty at me,” I lie.
“She didn’t tell you anything else?” he presses, shaking his leg under the table.
“What else was she supposed to tell me? Is there something I don’t know?” I ask.
“No, of course not. I’m just sorry that she treats you that way.” He smiles at me and continues. “But maybe we should stop talking about her. Let’s not give her importance that she doesn’t deserve. So, what did you want to tell me?” I give him a dubious look. “Before Shana came, it seemed like you were about to tell me something,” he explains.
Damn, my speech. I clear my throat and begin picking at the cuticles on my hands again, looking, from time to time, over at the paper wrapped roses to my right. I am here at the moment of truth, and though I hate the idea of doing it here with all my heart, I cannot wait any longer.
I let out a long sigh. “Logan, listen…I need to tell you something.”
The gentleness of his face only makes it harder.
“Tell me.”
“Well, I’m not…I’m not very good at this sort of thing, so I don’t really know where to start…”
I am interrupted again, this time by his phone ringing. And, suddenly, I can breathe again. Logan pulls the phone out of his pants pocket. He looks at the display, then frowns. He seems annoyed.
“Sorry, but I have to take this,” he tells me.
“Sure, go ahead,” I say. Will I be able to talk to him by the end of the day?
“Mike, I’m busy, what is it? Yes… Are you kidding? Can’t you call your brother? Oh, come on.” He rubs his forehead, irritated. “ All right, all right. Yeah, I know. I’m coming. Give me a minute to get there, I’m leaving campus now. Bye.” He ends the conversation and, with his eyes still on the phone, shakes his head slightly.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
“Not really. A friend’s car broke down just outside of the city, and he wants me to pick him up.” He puts his phone back in his pocket and gets up from his chair. “That’s okay with you, right?”
I instinctively get up along with him. “Sure, of course it is.”
“Okay, we can save this conversation to another time. Would you like to have dinner together tonight?”
I lower my eyes to the tray that had, until recently, held my dinner and then look back at Logan. Tackling this conversation privately would actually make my conscience feel more at ease. So I nod, because I really just want to put an end to this thing as soon as possible.
“I’ll make a reservation at the restaurant, pick you up in an hour?”
Restaurant? Absolutely not. Terrible place to dump someone. Although, to be fair, Logan and I are not technically together.
“Um, honestly, I’d actually prefer somewhere more private. If that’s okay with you. Besides, it’s already after eight o’clock. I don’t want to be out too late.” I shrug.
“Okay,” he says, still not entirely convinced, and slips on his jacket. “Let’s order a pizza at my place, then?”
This suggestion seems even more inappropriate than the last, but I don’t see any alternative.
“Okay,” I reply in a small voice. “I’ll wait for you right here.”
“Good. I’ll see you in a bit.” He grabs the roses from the table, walks over and puts them back in my hands. Then he lifts my chin with two fingers and, staring intently into my eyes, says, “I’m going to hold you to that—don’t run away.” He kisses me on the cheek, lingering a bit more than necessary.
And I get the strangest feeling in my stomach. Almost nauseating, as if every inch of my body is suddenly rejecting this small contact.
“I’m not running away,” I answer with a tiny smile.
Logan winks at me and leaves the cafeteria. I watch him walk away and only then do I realize that Thomas is here. He’s standing at the back of the cafeteria, with his arms folded, leaning back against the wall. He’s surrounded by a few guys from the team, but he’s staring at me, and the look he gives me makes my blood run cold. The full body shivers I had felt earlier are back and even more intense.
Oh, God. Thomas.
How long has he been standing there?