11 Not the Memories. Not the Desire.
11
Not the Memories. Not the Desire.
With the passing of time, I learned that life is just a sequence of moments. Just that. Some mean nothing, others change everything. Life is unpredictable, and the fact that we were both there just then showed it. It was a mere coincidence, but it wound up becoming a turning point.
I stood there staring, trying to process what had just happened. My thoughts changed color, shape, tenor. I had imagined that conversation taking place many different ways, in many different places, but the reality had been utterly unexpected.
I had built four years of my life around something that had never existed. I’d put up a wall of resentment and disappointment, adding bricks to it day after day. Calling it a misunderstanding was too trivial, because part of who I was now was because of what happened that morning in Trey’s room. A buildup of circumstances that had led to disaster.
There was no way to get distance, a perspective on his reality and mine. They were so mixed up that it was impossible to say where one began and the other ended. But there was a crack, and feelings were seeping through it, feelings I’d been carrying around for years and that were getting heavier with each passing day.
Feelings I didn’t know how to deal with.
Didn’t know how to face.
And that I couldn’t just keep bottled up.
He’d left the door open, and the wind was blowing in the rain. I hurried over to shut it. I looked out the window, consumed by worry. Where the hell did he think he was going in that weather?
So many hours passed that I lost track of time. My nerves kept getting more frayed. This situation was ridiculous. I had come to that house to find myself, and now I felt more lost than ever.
I buttoned up my sweater and listened to the crackle of the dying fire before going to the kitchen for more candles. When I returned, Trey was in the doorway, wet and shaking. The shadows under his eyes were so dark, I couldn’t see the bright amber glow of his irises. I crossed my arms, first relieved that he’d made it back, then angry that he’d left in the first place.
“Have you lost your mind? How could you do such a thing in this weather? Where the hell were you?” I shouted.
“I’m sorry.”
“You had me worried!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You already said that.”
“I’m so…”
I almost smiled. Almost.
The floor creaked as I walked over to him. My mind was still occupied with the bad memories, which were clear as day and all too real. Even learning the truth hadn’t made them go away. I took a deep breath. I didn’t want the emotions bubbling up under my facade of calm to betray me.
“Come here, you need to dry off or you’ll catch pneumonia.”
I took his hand and forced him to follow me to the fireplace. He kneeled down while I went upstairs for towels. I went into his room for dry clothes, too. He needed them. On the bed, I found pants and a shirt.
Downstairs, he was trying to warm up in front of the fire. I crouched down beside him, uncomfortable in the silence, wanting some kind of reaction on his part.
“Here, let’s take this off,” I whispered, sliding my fingers under his T-shirt and pulling it over his head.
He hesitated for a moment, then let me. With the wet fabric tossed aside, I couldn’t help but notice his tanned skin, the firmness of every inch of his torso, his beautiful hands with those long, masculine fingers. Touching him was a warm pleasure, and I instantly regretted how quickly he’d broken down my barriers.
I dried his hair with the towel as best I could, then ran it over his neck, his shoulders, his stomach. Then I stopped. He was watching me, and his breath was speeding up.
It was hard for me to look back at him, but I did. I even tried to smile, timidly.
“Maybe you should do the rest. I’ll turn around while you take off your pants and put these dry clothes on.”
I stood and walked away, feeling an unwanted warmth in my chest. Memories of the first and only time I’d touched him tugged at my heart. Our secret caresses. It was all I could think about just then.
“Done.”
Finally.
I turned around. The space between us seemed blocked by all the things we couldn’t say. There was a fragility in his expression, and something that hinted at feverish thoughts. He shook his head, kicked his damp clothes aside, and sat on the sofa, sinking his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry you lost your mother,” I said.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t know she… I mean, I never heard you mention her, and…”
“I can’t talk about that, sorry.” He cut me off gently.
They should make maps of people so you don’t get lost in them. Each person should be born with an instruction manual that tells other people how to deal with them. Everything would be much easier that way.
“Where’d you go?” I asked.
“For a walk.”
“A walk?”
“You dropped a bomb on me, okay? And I…” He leaned back and pursed his lips. “I don’t know how to take it, Harper. And when I don’t know how to deal with something, I turn distant.”
He squinted and bit his lip, and I sensed he was on the verge of giggling.
“What’s so funny? I can’t believe you’re laughing at a time like this.”
“I can promise you, I find this situation anything but funny… Still, though. You’ve spent four years hating me, and here you are worried about me.”
Whatever. He’d caught me. My heart was foolish. I was foolish. And I could turn on a dime. I sat down next to him to be closer to the fire. The wood was smoldering. Soon there would be nothing but embers.
“I’m not a bad person. And you didn’t even know what happened that night.”
“Don’t try and justify what I did.” He cut me off.
“Fine. You’re a douchebag, and for all I care, you can go outside and stand there till a lightning bolt splits you in half. Feel better now?”
He chuckled and I turned away to keep from letting his eyes hypnotize me. No matter how many times I’d reproached him in my mind, no matter how thin the line was between love and hate, no matter how many times I’d jumped back and forth over it, torn between attraction and contempt, I couldn’t help what I was feeling now. I laughed along with him.
“I need you to tell me,” he said, gazing at me intently.
“What?”
“What happened that night. Everything.”
I nodded, even though what I was thinking was no .
I had never talked about that with anyone. I had kept it to myself like a humiliating secret, and it was so shameful that just the memory of it brought blood into my cheeks. For some stupid reason, I’d convinced myself that if I just ignored it, if I never shared it with anyone, it would disappear, and it would be like it never happened.
But it didn’t.
I never managed to leave it behind.
Not the memories.
Not the desire.
For him.
October 31. Halloween. Four years earlier.
The news had opened up a hole inside me. He was going to America. MIT had let him into its architecture program, and he hadn’t hesitated to say yes to finishing his degree there. I wasn’t happy for him. I couldn’t be. It meant that for the next three years, there would be hundreds of miles between us.
I wouldn’t see him anymore, even if I hadn’t seen him often before then, and the thought of it killed me. Those brief moments when we crossed paths had meant everything to me.
I was a girl and I acted like it: dramatic, silly, immature. I couldn’t accept an unrequited love. I was as invisible to him as all the girls he slept with. Even more. And they had gotten something I could only dream of: knowing what his lips tasted like. Even knowing he’d gotten around didn’t stop me from hoping pathetically that something would happen between us one day, too.
And one day he noticed me.
One day, he actually looked at me.
That day, I would be brave, for both of us.
That day, I would become his entire world.
That day ended up being a catastrophe.
Hoyt and Scott had organized a farewell gathering for Trey in their dorm in Vancouver. It would take place on October 31, three days before his departure, and that would be my one chance to see him. I used all my savings to buy a plane ticket.
Once my morning classes were over, I caught a plane to Vancouver. Hoyt was waiting for me at the airport. When I arrived, we went straight to his place.
I was excited, but also nervous. I’d never been to a college party before. I’d never been to any party since I’d turned eighteen. Really, this was my first party, period, because I’d never been the kind of popular girl with friends who got invited to everything. More like the opposite.
So maybe, just maybe, my expectations were too high.
And that made my downfall hurt that much more.
I didn’t usually wear makeup apart from a little mascara and lipstick, and even that was just once in a while. But that night, I did myself up. Eye shadow, blush, lip liner, everything to accentuate the sexy angel costume I’d bought that morning at a shop in Queen West. At first, I worried it was excessive. Maybe a little too provocative. But that was what I was going for, wasn’t it? To get Trey’s attention. And to do that, I needed to look like the grown woman I thought I was.
I smiled when I saw myself in the mirror. My thin white dress gripped my body and showed off what I might flatteringly call my curves. I donned the little wings and tried to gather my courage. I was getting more and more nervous with each minute that passed.
I walked outside and down the stairs, clutching the handrail tightly. Some guys were gawking at me. That helped my confidence a bit. One of them walked over to the bottom step and looked up. He didn’t have time to say hi, though, because my brother came up behind him and pushed him out of the way.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“A costume.”
“That’s not a costume. That’s… You look like a model from one of those…you know, that shop with the chicks in their underwear. The, uh, dammit…”
“Victoria’s Secret?” I guessed, trying to help with his confusion.
“Yeah, that one. Now go upstairs and change.”
“No can do,” I replied.
“You’re my little sister, and I’m not going to let all those animals see you like this.”
“By ‘those animals,’ I presume you mean your friends? Do they know what you think of them?”
“Harper,” Hoyt hissed.
“Hoyt,” I said back, not blinking.
“What’s going on?”
I tensed up as I heard his voice, and when our eyes met, my knees trembled.
“Hey, Harper.”
“Hey, Trey,” I whispered, cheeks burning.
He was dressed as Peter Pan. And he was adorable.
“Say something, dude! Tell her she can’t go dressed like that with all the morons that are going to be there,” my brother ordered him.
Trey looked me up and down with an impassive expression, and I felt disappointment spread through my body. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t indifference.
“Don’t be a jerk. Let the girl be. Everyone knows she’s your sister. Nobody’s going to dare bother her,” he said.
That word stuck in my chest like a sharpened dagger. Girl. I hated it. It sounded so patronizing, so disrespectful, so… I wished I could turn invisible just then.
My brother wasn’t convinced, but he finally agreed, and soon he’d walked off, following a brown-haired girl in a pink bikini with a mouse tail pinned to her rear end. Apparently he couldn’t focus on two things at once.
“Have fun. I’ll be here if you need anything,” Trey said before turning toward a fairy in a push-up bra who came over with two glasses, handing him one just before they took off.
As for me, I stood alone in a corner watching everyone drink, dance, and hook up.
Luckily, Hayley and Scott showed up not long afterward and rescued me from that increasingly uncomfortable situation. I knew some of their friends, and I was able to have fun with them without it turning into an effort.
A few hours later, the party was at its peak. The room was full of people, bodies twisting under the faint light to the rhythm of music that sounded like a bombardment. I caught sight of Trey dancing with a girl in a nurse costume who seemed determined to give him a thorough physical examination. She was stunning, and I felt insignificant alongside her. Really, there was no one there I could compete with.
But he looked away from her, and our eyes met. There was something in his expression I couldn’t put a finger on. I turned around, ashamed that he’d caught me staring, and tried to focus on the people there around me. But I couldn’t follow the thread of the conversation. My mind kept turning back to one thing. Him.
I regretted being there, regretted being stubborn, regretted my absurd determination to cross the country just to be at that party. Sure, I wanted to see him one last time, but the price was too high, and I could only stand to suffer so much.
Had I really believed he’d notice me?
I tried to ignore him the rest of the night, but I couldn’t. Every time I heard his voice, his laugh, or saw him dance, I turned.
Unrequited love is a disease that has no cure, and the only treatment is disappointment. Waking from the dream, realizing it wasn’t as beautiful as you’d imagined.
But Trey would never disappoint me.
He’d never get the chance to.
I wouldn’t let him.
Or so I thought.
It was late when I found him walking out of the bathroom, stumbling, glassy-eyed. After years of observation, I knew instantly something was wrong. He hurried upstairs and even pushed aside a friend who tried to tell him something.
I don’t know what made me follow him and knock at his door. I don’t know what made me go inside when he shouted that he wanted to be left alone. I don’t know what made me shut the door when he looked up from his bed. But what I do know is what I felt when I looked back.
“Hey,” I whispered.
His disgusted expression softened. “Are you okay? Do you need me to find Hoyt?”
“No. I just saw you come up here, and…I wanted to make sure you were all right. Are you?”
I leaned against the doorframe, aware that he was watching me.
He sighed and tried to force a smile. “I’m fine. Thanks for caring.”
I knew he was lying. His face was a kaleidoscope of emotions, none of them good.
“Sure. I guess I should go back downstairs.”
“No worries.”
I grabbed the knob. And inside I felt a tingle, as I always did when I heard his voice or saw his face or his perfect smile. There was a string that united us, and I felt it tense, making it impossible to separate.
In the middle of these chaotic thoughts, I heard him ask me, “Are you having fun? At the party, I mean. It’s different from high school, right?”
“Sure,” I said over my shoulder. “It’s not bad. But I’m getting tired, and if I hear five more minutes of techno, I think I’m going to lose it. My ears are killing me.”
He laughed, sounding more lively now.
“I know how you feel.” After a pause, he continued. “You can stay here and hang out with me for a while if you like.”
Without thinking, I replied, “Sure.”
He waved me over, and I walked slowly to the bed, sitting timidly on the very edge. I looked around at his things: his shelves full of books and comics, the flat-screen TV on his dresser, the video-game console and cartridges. There were drawing materials and a speaker playing music on his desk. Everything was clean and orderly, everything smelled good—citrusy, but also masculine. Next to the closet were suitcases and boxes, reminding me that he was leaving in a few days. The thought of it was painful to me, and I tried to ignore it.
“You must be excited that you got into MIT,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a big opportunity.” He sat up on his pillow. “What about you—college, all that adult stuff?”
He was slurring and looked a little tipsy. I knew he’d been drinking. I now wondered how much. Not that it was any of my business. Anyway, he seemed relaxed now. The wrinkles were gone from his forehead, and he was more interested in me than whatever had caused him to run away from the party earlier.
I’d made him smile. That meant a lot to me just then.
I told him a bit about my new life in Toronto, my classes, and how happy I was to be newly independent. I told him about my little apartment and my neighbors. The older woman on the first floor who spent all day staring through her peephole. The piano teacher on the second floor who listened to blues until after midnight. The big family on the top floor whose children ran back and forth like crazy all weekend and had put any maternal instincts I might have thought I had on hiatus.
He grinned as he listened, especially when I laughed, and I couldn’t stop doing it, just as I couldn’t stop myself from talking. We had never talked that long and had never spent that much time alone. We’d never been just us, the people we really were, together.
It was like a dream.
My fantasies taking shape.
And I didn’t want to wake up.
“What about your friends?” he asked.
“I’ve made a couple, but I don’t have time to go out, really. I signed up for too many classes.”
“Any boyfriends?” I was surprised this would interest him. “You can tell me. I won’t say a word to Hoyt.”
I blushed. For some reason, I wanted to impress him, to act older and more experienced, but some things are impossible to fake. I’d never been with a guy. And it was mostly his fault. Compared to him, most guys weren’t good enough to give them an opportunity. My mind and heart had always belonged to him. His least gesture fed my dreams and fantasies for months on end, and all I wanted was to stop being invisible to him. That hope was the only thing that kept me afloat.
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“You must have gone out with someone, though.”
“Yeah, I mean, I’ve been out a few times.”
I looked away so he wouldn’t see I was lying and adjusted my hair. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain—it was caught on my earring. I tried to pull my hair loose, but it kept getting more tangled.
“Is something wrong?” Trey asked.
“My hair’s wrapped around my earring and I can’t get it loose.”
“Here, let me help.”
He sat up and grabbed my ear before I could say anything. I tried to ignore the heat I felt when he was so close. Tried not to notice his tongue as he bit down on it in concentration.
“I can’t do it like this. It’s really caught up in there and I can barely see. Come on, get up.”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the lamp, where he bent over, squeezing my earlobe. After a few tries, I felt the hair come loose from the hasp. When I looked up, I saw him smiling with satisfaction.
We were so close that I could feel his breath warming my cheek. He looked at my lips for a few tense moments that I wished would last forever.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured.
Now all the sounds and music on the other side of the door seemed to recede. I grinned. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t believe this was happening. My heart was pounding, my nerves were raw.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’ve just never said anything like that to me. You’ve never noticed the way I look before.”
“Believe me, I’ve noticed the way you look many times. You’re gorgeous.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“A lot, but not so much that I don’t know what I’m saying.”
I could see he was watching my lips as I talked.
“You honestly think I’m pretty?”
“You’re pretty, you’re perfect, I’m crazy about you. Tonight, especially.” He reached out and ran a finger across my cheek. “And you’re especially adorable when you blush. If I didn’t think it was wrong, I’d give you that kiss I’ve been holding back all night.”
I felt fireworks go off inside me, felt the burning of hope, of anticipation. And nothing else mattered to me just then. He wanted to kiss me, and I wanted him to kiss me. I refused to think about anything else, even to notice that feeling in the pit of my stomach warning me that I was letting my desire get the better of me, that there was something else I needed to pay attention to.
“Then do it,” I murmured.
He smiled wearily and shook his head, then leaned his forehead toward mine and rested his hand on my waist.
“Don’t say that.”
“I want you to.”
“It wouldn’t be right.”
“Says who? It’s just a kiss.”
“Just a kiss,” he repeated softly.
“Just one little bitty kiss.”
I felt his lips on my forehead, his hot breath tickling me, and I started to melt. He ran his other hand down my back, moved downward, kissed me on the cheek. On the ear. Traced out a path down my jawline. I closed my eyes, absorbing all of it: the gentleness, the wariness, the perfection of that instant.
I didn’t care if it was right or wrong.
He stopped on my lips. He was going to kiss me. He really was. I had to grab onto that stupid lace-up shirt he was wearing to keep from falling over as I waited for it to happen.
His mouth brushed against mine, just a bit. And then it came: he took the leap, and he was there next to me, floating in the abyss. He clutched the back of my neck and covered my lips with his. There was no hesitation, only determination. He held me as though he was scared to let me go.
He tasted like alcohol, tobacco, and something sweet. And in an instant, he became my favorite flavor.
I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck. He pressed into me stubbornly. There was no turning back. I had dreamed of this so many times, and I wouldn’t let anything stop me from getting what I wanted now that it was finally happening. Not my insecurities, not my fears. Not my utter lack of experience.
Because I was just a girl, and love is complicated. And there’s no instruction manual to help you understand it.
His caresses became bolder, his hands reaching parts of me no one had ever touched before. I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t, and I didn’t want to. There are risks that are worth it. I pulled him closer. Closer, and closer still. I convinced myself that what we were doing was real.
There are gaps in my mind. I don’t know how we went from standing up to lying in bed. I tried to memorize each second of it, but he distracted me with his soft fingers and the little noises escaping his throat. And the way he gazed at me, as though he’d never seen anything like me in his life. His hands exploring every inch of my body tenderly; the hunger, the emotion in his kisses.
I trembled when his naked body covered mine. From desire. From lust.
I could see a question in his eyes. Without speaking, I answered yes. He looked at me for an eternity, and I saw an infinity reflected in him, everything, even those shadows that had caused my heart to pause.
But then our mouths touched, and I let myself go.
I wanted to give everything to him, and he accepted. Timid, delicate, contained. Our bodies joined. It was perfect, absolute, complete, profound. And I cried. The pain I felt made it so real. I had given up before, years ago, when I was innocent and a dreamer and gave him that first piece of my heart. Now I was offering him the last, with open arms. Now I was entirely his.
We lay there, saying nothing, his hand on my belly, his head on my arm. Then he fell asleep. The party was still going on downstairs.
I wondered if my brother and sister were looking for me. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to stare at his face, so relaxed, hear his measured breaths, watch his eyes shifting beneath his eyelids. Imagine he was dreaming of me.
The sun started to rise, and the walls brightened. I woke with a powerful urge to go to the bathroom. I got up noiselessly and looked for my clothes. I was getting dressed when Trey moaned. He sounded like he was in agony. He sat up, trying not to fall over, leaning against his pillows.
That’s when he saw me.
His eyes were bloodshot as he looked me over, and I felt so uncomfortable I had to cover up. Even before his lips moved, I knew everything he was going to say—knew his questions, his doubts, the terror that had overtaken him.
He jumped up and ran toward me.
Then the shouts began. The words that were hard as fists. The unbearable cruelty of his coldness. After everything I had given him.
That wasn’t Trey. That wasn’t the guy I knew, the guy I had slept with. Or maybe it was him, more than ever.
What the hell do you think you’re doing here?
Get the fuck out of here.
You’re just a little girl. Don’t you understand what could happen?
Are you trying to get me in trouble?
Don’t ever come near me again.
And I could do nothing. I couldn’t even react as he grabbed my arm and threw me out of his room.