18 Original #2
The look of curiosity on his face was so intense that I didn’t feel I could leave him hanging.
“Look, it’s dumb,” I said, “but as a kid, literally anything could get under my skin. And I guess around that time everybody was into Disney movies and whatever. And so in Mulan , there’s this character Mushu.
That’s what I’ve been told, I really don’t know anything about it.
But this kid found out my middle name was Michelle and thought it would be funny to call me Mushu, and it caught on and the whole school started doing it. ”
From the look in his eyes, I could tell he was about to crack up laughing, and I warned him, “It’s not funny!”
“You shouldn’t get mad, Michelle. Mushu is a wonderful character…”
“Listen here, Jack. Call me Michelle one more time, and I’m going out there to sleep on the couch with your brother.”
“Sorry, Michelle.”
“Idiot,” I said. “By the way, I got you a present.”
He sat up on the edge of the bed. “Is it sexy underwear?”
“No, Jack. Good lord. Here.” I handed him a thin package wrapped in silvery paper. “I’ve felt bad about your birthday ever since it happened. I didn’t get you a present, and I left you hanging because of the Monty thing, and I don’t know… I wanted to make it up to you somehow. So here. Open it.”
He tore open the paper, excited as a little boy—after all my struggles to wrap it well. Then he held his gift up. He looked confused for a moment. His lips parted. “It this…?” He was so excited, he didn’t finish the phrase.
“I hope this is a good one, I kind of grabbed it at random,” I said. “Because you told me you liked Thor and all. I guess it’s the first of that series.”
As he sat there, frozen, I nudged him. “You do like it, don’t you?”
“W-w-where did you get this?”
Was he stuttering?
“I told you my brothers are into comics. I found it in my brother Spencer’s room. I don’t think he ever looks at them anymore. I just asked him for one of the rare ones, and that was one of the ones he showed me. He made me clean his car in exchange.”
Ross’s mouth hung open as he carefully turned the pages.
I added, “If it’s not the right one, I can try and get a different one from him.” I hoped it was all right, though. I’d hated cleaning that car, and I didn’t want to have to do any more favors.
“Of course I like it. This thing’s worth money, Jen. But that’s not the main thing. The main thing is you did that for me. It’s probably the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Clean their brother’s car? I’m assuming no one’s ever done anything romantic for you before, then?”
“Honestly, I don’t usually get many presents.
From my parents, maybe, but that’s different.
Like they gave me the car, obviously that was generous, and I use it a lot, but it’s not the same as when a person really knows you and picks out something small but perfect for you. For them, it’s just money, you know.”
“Jack! You should try to appreciate what life’s given you. I’d kill for a car. I got socks last Christmas. And they were ugly!”
“Yeah, but your family probably meant it. They wanted to do something sweet for you. My parents are just doing what they think is their duty, or else trying to keep up appearances, which is even worse.”
I hadn’t really thought about that—for me, a present was just a present—but I could see what he meant. He reached out and grabbed my hand and asked, “So, on another subject…are we kissing in public now? Because I have to admit, you caught me off guard.”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s our new thing. We kiss in public now, and I call you Jack. Get used to it.”
“Oh, I will.” He reached up and wrapped his arms around me and sat me on his lap. “Especially as I’m assuming this means I won’t have to hold back anymore when everyone’s around.”
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t feel like talking anymore. What I felt like was… Let’s just say something else.
I held his face in my hands and kissed him, and he kissed me back.
I liked his kisses—so different, so much deeper, than any I’d ever known.
And I knew then that despite all his joking around, he really had missed me.
His lips moved from the corner of my mouth to my throat and his hands climbed my back.
As they reached my bra, I felt a sharp pain—the same one as that morning.
He hadn’t even reached the bruise, but my body was protecting itself, remembering the pain.
I had wanted to hide it from him, but he could tell, obviously.
“What’s up?” he asked.
I didn’t know what to tell him. I hadn’t come up with an explanation for when he saw it.
“Sorry,” I lied. “I’m…on my period.”
He could tell I wasn’t being truthful with him. He always could. He was even worse than my sister in that way. I needed to practice, because I couldn’t have someone seeing straight through me twenty-four hours a day.
“Jen, what is it really?”
“Nothing. It’s stupid.” I tried to kiss him again, but he jerked backward, stopping me.
“Lift up your shirt. Let me see,” he said, narrowing his eyes. I made a joke: I said I’d gotten his face tattooed on me as a surprise, but it was still healing. He didn’t laugh, and when he tried to lift my hem and get a look himself, I stopped him. He stood up angrily.
Was I wrong for trying to hide it? I just didn’t want him to see. I didn’t want him to think of me as a victim, and I didn’t want to think about Monty or Nelle or any of that nonsense back home. Jack was too sweet to have to worry about all of that, too.
“It’s not your problem, all right,” I told him.
“Jen, you are my problem.”
How did he do it? How could he be so tender, even at a moment like this?
And how could I keep acting so stupid when he was so kind and gentle with me?
He asked me softly to show it to him, and though I hesitated, I had to admit to myself I couldn’t hide it forever.
I raised my shirt up to the level of my bra.
Just under my ribs was a blue and red spot.
It looked bigger and darker than it had before.
“Are you happy now?” I asked, angry and ashamed.
“Do I look happy?” he replied.
“It’s not such a big deal, Jack.” But the look he gave me back showed me how stupid I had been to say that. It hurt, that look. I’d never seen him with that expression on his face before. I wanted him to smile at me the way he always did. Even if I knew that couldn’t happen now.
“Someone hitting you isn’t that big a deal? And don’t try to tell me you just fell down or whatever. I saw your ex when he was here, and I saw the way you tried to hide this from me. I understand what’s going on.”
“I hit him, too.”
“What happened?”
“He tried to kiss me.”
Why did I feel I was always being interrogated? I had a knot in my throat again. I could see Jack was about to lose patience with me. He looked down and pursed his lips, and when he turned his face to me again, it was red with rage.
“How the hell can you go on defending him like that? He came here and destroyed Naya’s room, he hit you, God knows what else he’s done. There’s something wrong with him, Jen.”
I felt scared, but it wasn’t the fear I’d felt with Monty. I knew Jack’s anger wasn’t directed toward me, or not in the same way. That his anger was a form of care.
“Jack, we all screw up sometimes,” I said.
“Dammit, Jen, this is not you screwing up! This is abuse! There is no justification for it, period! It’s not right, and you sitting here trying to minimize it is like giving him a pass to do it again. Were you alone with him? Why didn’t you ask for help?”
“I can take care of myself!”
“No, you can’t. Not with him, at least. I know you act tough, I saw you hit that guy, but with Monty you turn into a submissive little girl.”
“Don’t call me submissive.”
“Don’t act like it, then. Your relationship with Monty was toxic. That’s the only word for it, and until you admit that, you’re never going to be able to move on.”
“Just let me live my own life, Jack.”
“I can’t. Not when you living your own life means letting some weirdo hurt you.”
“Maybe you’re just jealous!” I said. I should have stopped myself, but the words came out too fast. I felt my mouth go dry as I uttered them. When I saw the disappointment in his eyes, the anger, it hurt worse than any blow Monty could have given me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean that.”
But Jack interrupted me and said, “Yeah, I’m jealous, OK?
I am. I like you, you know? And that’s why I can’t stand this.
If it was different, if you had been with a guy who had made you happy, then maybe I could try to find a way to deal with this.
But you expecting me to just stand by and watch you let someone you don’t even like treat you this way…
it’s too much to ask. You don’t deserve to be treated that way.
Nobody does, but especially you. You deserve better. ”
“I know, Jack. That’s why I broke up with him. I’m not with him anymore. You and I agree, so there’s nothing to argue about.”
“What would you do if he came and knocked on the door right now crying and begged you to get back with him? Are you telling me you wouldn’t forgive him?”
“I wouldn’t, Jack.”
“Be honest, Jen. Imagine if instead of coming here on a rampage, he’d been all sweet and corny and asked you to get back with him. Are you telling me you wouldn’t?”
“I can’t say what I would have done a month ago. But I can tell you what I’d do now. And I know it, because he asked to get back with me, and I said no. I said no because I like you, not him.”
I had to look down as I said this. I was too shy to get it out otherwise.
And I’d never liked any guy the way I liked Jack.
I knew now: If this turns out bad, it’s going to hurt.
But it was worth it. I saw something strange in his eyes, something frantic, as if he were calculating, trying to see exactly where we were right now, what we were.
Something strange was happening inside him, and he looked like he was on the verge of tears as he asked, “Is that why he hit you? Because you told him you liked me?”
Poor Jack. He felt guilty. My heart was melting. It wasn’t his fault. It had nothing to do with him.
“Does it hurt?” he continued.
I shook my head. It did, but I could take it.
“It’s fine, Jack. I don’t need help. I don’t need you to do anything.
All I want to do is forget about it. I promised my dad if Monty shows back up, I’ll go to the police.
You’re right. Monty’s toxic. I guess I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it because I felt like that meant I was at fault, because I was so stupid for ever going out with him.
I shouldn’t have defended him. I’m sorry. ”
“It’s fine. I’m sorry for pressuring you, but I just needed you to open your eyes. Now tell me about where he hit you. Can I get you something? Some ice?”
“I told you it doesn’t hurt,” I said.
“And I’ve told you a million times now, you’re not good at lying. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
When he returned, he had a damp rag wrapped around some ice. He waited for me to take off my sweatshirt and held it to my side. I wasn’t embarrassed anymore—wasn’t afraid to let him see me, not my body and not who I was inside.
“Fuck, that’s cold!” I said.
“Yeah, Mushu. It’s ice.”
“That’s the first and last time you ever get to call me that, Jack.”
And just like that, everything returned to normal. I lay back, he lay beside me, and we looked up at the ceiling. Then he stretched out his arm and I curled up under it. He kissed my scalp. I thought about the first time we’d ever slept together in each other’s arms.
“You know,” he said, “the kids in your class must not have been very original. Mushu’s a pretty stupid nickname.”
“Have you got a better one?” I asked.
“Yeah. Girlfriend.”
What? Had he said it? Had he really said it? I could feel my brain yelling at me, Answer him ! But I couldn’t, and he continued, “I’m not sure what I expected, but I suppose it was something better than horrified silence.”
“Jack…”
“It’s OK! I don’t want to rush you, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. There’s time; we see each other every day. I know you just got out of a relationship, maybe it’s too soon, I think I just had this thought that I would say it and you’d…”
“Jack!” I interrupted him. I had been trying to for a few seconds, but he was so nervous he just kept talking. “Don’t be stupid,” I said. “Yes, you can call me your girlfriend.”
I climbed on top of him and kissed him, letting the rag fall onto the mattress. He held the back of my head, stroked my face, smiled.
“This is the third best thing that’s happened to me today,” he said.
“The third?!”
“Easy, Mushu. I aced my exam, I drank a beer earlier. Some things are hard to beat.”
“Jerk. I told you, don’t ever call me Mushu again.”
“I won’t.”
“You promise?” I asked him.
“Of course not.”