Eighteen
Eighteen
Once I realize that Vince is beyond my help, I am forced to call for backup.
Matt puts him over his shoulder and takes him back inside while I go to find Tiffany.
I tell her all about the predictable disaster that ensued between Thomas, Logan, and me, and only after saying goodbye to her do I finally go back upstairs.
Shut up within these four ink-colored walls, I do nothing but ruminate about Vince’s insinuations.
And though I was distressed at the beginning, after thinking through everything and reviewing all of Logan’s behavior toward me, I decide that it was all just based on stupid prejudices.
Caught in my spiraling thoughts, I realize only now that it’s three in the morning.
I’ve heard nothing from Thomas. Sitting up in bed, I start chewing my fingernails as I stare at the clock radio on the bedside table.
What if something’s happened to him?
He wasn’t thinking clearly when he got on his bike; he was blinded by anger. What if…? I don’t even want to think about it. Panic is just about to seize my brain when suddenly the bedroom door opens, and Thomas appears before me.
I leap to my feet. His forehead is beaded with sweat, and I can tell his heart is racing. “Where have you been?” I shout.
“Shh! Are you nuts? You’ll wake up the whole house.”
He closes the door behind him and leans back against it. He bows his head, narrows his eyes, and frowns. I can’t tell if he’s irritated or in pain. I do see that he can barely stand, and he’s got an unlit cigarette pressed between his lips.
I examine him carefully from head to toe. I fold my arms and ask, “Have you been drinking?”
He massages his temples and answers me with a nod. He rests his head back against the door and looks at me through his eyelashes, chin high. “Am I grounded?” he taunts.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say simply through gritted teeth. I swallow the lump of bitterness in my throat and try to keep a lid on the anger that threatens to explode out of me.
“I’ll bear that in mind for next time.” He gives me a wink as he fumbles in his jeans for his lighter.
He eventually finds it and lights the cigarette with a sneering, extremely punchable look on his face.
And I can feel my palms tingling from nerves.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.
“Where have you been?” I repeat more steadily.
He takes a drag from his cigarette and replies with a vague hand gesture. “Here and there.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Did you drive like this?”
He sighs, emitting a barely audible growl. “Knock it off. It’s late. My head’s killing me, and the last thing I need is to be asked a bunch of fucking questions. I’d like a little quiet.” He bends over to take off his shoes, tripping over his own feet.
So we have an argument, he vents all his anger at me in the worst possible way, then he goes and gets drunk. He stays out all night and now he’d “like a little quiet”? Like hell!
“And I would like an answer.”
“Fuck, I can’t stand you when you’re pushy like this. I was at ClubSeven, and no, I didn’t drive. Happy now?”
My heart stops momentarily. He left me here alone so he could go get drunk and cut loose at the same club where I just found him with Shana.
And even though I make an enormous effort not to let my imagination run away with me, I just can’t do it.
I swallow thickly as I feel the familiar burning sensation in my eyes.
I bite my lip to try to stop my trembling.
Don’t cry, Vanessa. Don’t you cry.
He gives me a long impassive look, saying nothing, just smoking. In fact, I can’t even really say for sure that he’s actually looking at me. He looks so…hazy.
“Was she there too?” I ask, regretting it even as it comes out of my mouth.
Thomas licks his lower lip with the tip of his tongue and then bites it. He appears to be thinking hard. “I’m fucking angry, and I’ve had a few too many. But I didn’t forget that I’m with you.”
I feel every joint in my body relax at once.
“Can we talk?” I whisper, approaching him slowly.
Thomas lets his arms fall loose to his sides. “For what purpose? You’re still gonna do what you want to do, right? You always do. All the time, you wanna know where I am, what I’m doing, and who I’m doing it with. But when it comes right down to it, I never get to know what you’re doing.”
I grimace. “You always know what I’m doing!”
“Bullshit. I know what you’re doing when you’re with me, but when you’re not, I don’t know anything.
At the club, you made up your mind about Shana and me after watching us for, what?
Five seconds? And then, without even giving me the chance to explain, you drew your own conclusions and decided that grinding on the first person who came along was the right thing to do.
You invite your little partner in crime over here, conveniently forget to tell me, and then when I get home, I catch him in bed with you.
And now I find out you’ve been seeing Logan and you’re hiding the fact that you’re going to tutor him.
” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray, takes off his sweatshirt (which reeks of alcohol and sweat), and tosses it onto the desk.
“I don’t know shit about what you do, much less why you do it.
What I do know is that if I did even one of those things, you would have pointed your little finger at me and called me a heartless bastard. ”
He goes over to the bed, and for a moment, I think he’s decided to put an end to this conversation by going to sleep. Instead, he grabs a pillow and heads back toward the door. I am even more agitated. “Where are you going?”
“Downstairs.”
Is he joking?
“What? I don’t want you to go downstairs, Thomas.
” I reach for him, grabbing his arm. “I’m sorry about everything.
About the misunderstanding with Alex and about dancing with that guy the other night.
It was a stupid, childish thing to do. I know, I get that.
But I’m sorry. And I’m extremely sorry about this whole thing with Logan too. I swear, I was going to tell you, but…”
“You were going to tell me? When were you going to tell me?”
“In the kitchen, right before your phone rang…I was just about to tell you!”
Thomas gives a sarcastic snort. “You were only going to tell me because you had no other options. You expect transparency, sincerity, and honesty from me, but where is any of that from you, huh?”
I stare fearfully at him, profoundly shocked by the truth of what he is saying.
I’ve been so angry at him all night. And now, I’m just angry at myself.
I’m just so stupid. A stupid, pathetic screwup who probably deserves to spend the night alone feeling sorry for herself.
Because the truth is, I always end up making the wrong call.
And it’s for that reason that, when he walks out the door, I let him.
***
Fresh off a night of bitterly weeping, I thrash restlessly in the bedclothes.
My phone has been ringing nonstop for I don’t know how long.
But this time, instead of stretching my arm out to the bedside table and rejecting the call, I grab the phone irritably.
An unknown number flashes on the display.
“What?” I answer in an unsteady voice, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
“Hey, finally! It’s about time,” an irritated and not-at-all-familiar voice exclaims. “You’re Clark the sophomore, right?”
“Um…yeah, that’s me. Who am I speaking with?”
“I’m Athena. I’ve been instructed to give you the keys to your new residence. And considering that this is also my Saturday and I don’t have time to waste, the sooner we can get together, the sooner I can get out of your hair. Tell me where you are so I can meet you.”
I press my hand to my forehead, staring bewildered out the window, absolutely stunned. Keys? Residence? What is she talking about?
“W-what?”
“Tell me where you are so I can meet you there. I’m not going to say it again; I don’t have all day. It’ll be a short meeting, trust me. Just long enough to sign some paperwork, get you the keys, and show you your new apartment.”
I get up and start pacing the room. Of course, I’m so dumb—my new residence! Only now do I remember the conversation I had with the dean and the rental contract he gave me.
“Right now I’m at a fraternity house, but—”
“Woah, woah, woah. I’m not setting foot in that den of brain-dead drunks.”
“I can come to you; that’s no problem. I have a session with my book club on campus at eleven. I apologize for the inconvenience; I didn’t know we were supposed to meet up today. If I had, I would have been more prepared,” I explain.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t notified until the last minute either,” she says, still slightly annoyed. “Either way, I’ll be waiting for you in front of Howell Hall in half an hour. Is that enough time for you?”
“Wait, I’m living in Howell?” I burst out in amazement.
It’s undoubtedly the best residence hall on campus, completely made up of full apartment-style suites instead of just shared rooms. It’s owned by a university benefactor, who rents the apartments to the university community by application only.
“Daddy made your dreams come true, eh?”
“Ah, no. I don’t actually have a—”
“Sure, fine, whatever,” she interrupts. “I’ll be waiting for you there in twenty minutes.”
“Wasn’t it half—”
Too late. She hung up.
Still in a daze, I put my hair up into a bun, go to the bathroom, and, after brushing my teeth, hop in the shower.
I put on a pair of high-waisted dark jeans and a turquoise cashmere sweater.
I head downstairs, hoping that Thomas will be more willing to talk this morning after sleeping on it.
I don’t want to leave the house before I clear the air with him.