27. Laura
27
LAURA
T he week before the symposium was busy with preparations. Each day also passed with blinding slowness that consisted of the same trial of headaches, heartaches, and dismay that suffocated me after I left Jason’s room.
That was twice that I’d run from his bedroom. Twice that I’d taken off to escape from his frat house.
And it was the last time that I’d seen him.
It wasn’t for a lack of his trying, though.
All week long, as I buckled down to get ready for the symposium, he attempted to infiltrate my life.
He called me nonstop. A long list of texts waited for me, all unread. Emails popped up to clutter my inbox. If I stayed on my phone at all, I’d be stuck acknowledging the growing count of voicemails that he’d left me too.
Ignoring him digitally was the easier route of cutting all ties with him.
When he tried to reach me in person, I struggled to maintain my composure. He followed me on campus. He showed up at my classes. Those were infinitely trickier to deal with, but I didn’t falter. I didn’t fall and surrender. Keeping my head high, I ignored him, literally pretending he wasn’t there.
He even showed up at the house, stalking me at my home and knocking on the door to get a chance to talk to me.
That was what he begged for, just one more opportunity to talk to me.
How ironic. It really was. When I woke up in his bedroom, that was all he seemed ready to do. To talk and blast me with complete honesty.
Now, I never wanted to hear from him again.
Kristin wasn’t safe, either. He’d taken to approaching her and trying to get to me through my friend. Fortunately, she was on my team. She didn’t try to set me up to speak with him, and she didn’t give him any indication that she’d try to convince me to meet him, just one more time.
But she did act as a means of communication I didn’t want.
“I don’t know,” she said the day before the symposium would start.
I glanced at her as we walked toward the parking lot. It wasn’t the same route we normally went, the simplest and most direct way toward our cars. I’d had to change up my path and routine to avoid Jason seeking me out.
“He seems really sorry.”
I rolled my eyes and faced forward.
Instead of going home and fuming after Jason told me why he targeted me, I went to her place and spilled it all. Going all the way back to the beginning, when I first met him through the tutoring sessions, I laid it all out. I didn’t leave any details out, sharing with her how we butted heads, then merged into sort of getting along, and then how we had sex. It wasn’t a word-for-word account, but I made sure she got the point that Jason and I had dived into a secret relationship. Last but not least, I told her about how it all ended, too, when he explained the reason he'd targeted me to bully.
“I’m not siding with him,” she added, “but he seems like he genuinely wants to make amends.”
“No. There’s no coming back from this.”
“I’m just pointing out that from what he said to me, it looks like he’s really fallen for you.”
I pressed my lips together as hard as I could, bottling in a scream of frustration at the idea that the one man I trusted and cared for could’ve fallen for me after using me as collateral damage like that.
“And he seems to want to make things right.”
“No.”
“You won’t talk to him at all?” she asked with a cringe.
“No.” I shook my head. “Not a chance in hell. I trusted him, Kris. I believed that no matter what motivation he had to hurt me, the feelings he had for me would be stronger.”
“Maybe they are?—”
“No. They can’t be when he wouldn’t give it up. Not even when he saw that I couldn’t be collateral damage. Not like that!” I stopped to vent at her. I wasn’t mad at her, but it was cathartic to talk to her about this and use her as a sounding board. “I could never be a source of collateral damage where my father is concerned. He’d have to care about me. He’d have to be upset that I was being bullied. I never told him what Jason did. I didn’t bring up the issue of my being bullied to him because I damn well knew he would not care. That’s how little importance I have.”
She frowned, seeming caught between wanting to hug me or let me say my piece.
“I know that. And when he realized that my father wasn’t reacting to what he was doing to me, that should’ve been a clue that his revenge plans weren’t working the way he might’ve wanted them to.”
I turned to walk again, only to stop and face her, not finished. “I’m done with him. I have to be done with him because despite knowing that he wanted to hurt my dad through me, I’m still so fucked up over him that I am madder that he told me at all. I’m still this hurt and enraged that he had to ruin this happiness and thrill with him. If he’d never opened his mouth at all, I wouldn’t have to feel robbed of what I had with him.”
She cringed. “That is a little messed up.”
“A little?” I shook my head. “It’s all very messed up. But it’s also done. I can’t trust myself with him. I can’t lower my guard anymore. Not with him.”
“I get it,” she said, shaking her head as we walked again. “I’d think the same and be just as defensive.”
“I do have him to thank for showing me one thing that I’ve been very late to accept in life,” I confessed. “I can thank him for being the biggest push for me to fight for what I want. I fought for him. I fought to accept him and let him in when I knew I shouldn’t. I fought against my resistance because deep down, he was what I wanted.”
She nodded, shoving her hand in her pocket.
“I have him to thank for showing me how to fight for what I want, not what someone else tells me. I knew it was stupid to trust my bully, but I took a leap of faith to do so, and that lesson has changed me.”
“Good,” she cheered. “Good.”
“It’s dumb, but this whole experience with him has taught me to fight for what I want in the future, too.”
She grinned. “You’re going to switch majors?”
I opened and closed my mouth, still hesitant. With the turmoil of what Jason said and how I’d ended it with him, I knew better than to make important decisions. I was emotional—mad and hurt and disappointed. But if and when I took the step to change my major, I should make that choice based on logic and with a clear head.
My head was not clear right now.
“Not yet. I’m going to take the first step, though. Tomorrow, I’m presenting about the cancer drug trials at the symposium, like I want to, like my dad warned me not to.”
She clapped my back and applauded me, giddy and loud about it. “You go, girl.”
Losing Jason had given me a boldness, a confidence that I would ride with. I refused to go to the symposium and present about those lame clinical studies like my dad wanted me to.
“I am thankful that Jason motivated me to go for what I want. That’s a good lesson learned. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to repeat my mistake of blindly trusting him again and letting him matter. Not when he couldn’t even try to make it right.”
“How could he, though?” she asked. “It’s not like he can rewind time and undo all that he said and did.”
I knew that. But I wasn’t sure what else would trip me back into wanting him close enough where he could further hurt me.
“I don’t know. All I do know is that there has been no time to even think about talking to him or hearing him out again. If he wants to make amends, I’m not available with the symposium tomorrow.”
When I got up the next morning, I dressed and mentally rehearsed for what would end up being the first day in a new direction. After this, when my father saw that I could impress with material I wanted to share, he’d either have to accept my decision or further oppress me.
And then I could try again to fight for what I wanted.
I arrived at the large conference room and tuned out all the noise. I didn’t let the size of the audience distract me. I focused on being as cool and collected as possible, in the zone until it was my time to step out on the stage.
As I approached the podium, breathing as steadily as I could like I’d coached myself from public speaking courses, I let the sea of faces merge as a blank entity. I almost succeeded. I nearly accomplished the simple step of making the audience a vague recipient of my attention.
Spotting Ethan in the back irritated me.
Seeing my family, including Mai, near the side, intimidated me.
But finding Jason’s face in the crowd was nearly my undoing.
He sat there, serious and sad, staring so intensely at me among so many others.
Ignore him.
Just focus on the speech.
He’s not important.
Pretend he’s not even here.
Letting that mantra of avoidance embolden me, I took my place at the podium and tapped the button on the clicker to move my presentation up on the projector. I’d emailed the file a couple of days ago, and I drew in one last fortifying breath as I waited for the title slide to show behind me.
A collective gasp sounded, alarming me before I could even introduce myself.
What?
What’s wrong?
I frowned, keeping my panic at bay as I turned to face the massive screen hanging down from the ceiling.
Behind me, shining on the canvas dropping low, was not the slideshow presentation I’d spent so much time perfecting.
The title of my review of the cancer drug trials wasn’t up there.
Instead, something so horribly cruel was there for the enormous audience to read. An alternative file had been put in my place for the judging panel to consider.
The Review of the Second-Best’s Regrets.
The illustration of a medical sign wasn’t in the corner. A large photo of me in a promiscuous pose was waiting instead.
Oh, fuck.
I froze, realizing the bullying wasn’t over yet.
Everything before this was child’s play.
This was what it’d take to ruin my life.