And then she left me.
Jolene
I stood inside my apartment, heels pressed against the back of the door, my hand wrapped around the knob behind me. I heard Shelly moving around in her and Dad’s bedroom. I could tiptoe across the living room and slip into my room, and she might not think to check on me. I hadn’t been lying to Adam about Shelly acting strangely since that morning I’d eavesdropped on her call with my dad and then vomited way too much personal information on her until she’d cried like she was broken. She wasn’t acting broken now; she was acting determined, and avoiding each other had become a game I played by myself, one that had become so much harder since she’d started seeking me out.
There’d been more notes and texts from Dad lately, too, nearly every day, and they usually contained some bit of information from the day before, details I knew Shelly was feeding him. The one that had been waiting for me that day congratulated me on a zero-cavity dentist appointment the week before, and I didn’t want to know how Shelly had found that out. The rest was always the same: sorry...promise...excuses and lies. I still never saw him.
Sometimes I’d spot one of his shirts or jackets lying over a chair, or an empty beer bottle on the counter that I knew belonged to him, because Shelly didn’t drink. But Shelly must have cleaned before I got there. The apartment was spotless.
Ten minutes passed, twenty. I watched the hands on the clock tick past. I was sure if I went to my room and listened, I’d hear the soft murmur of Adam, Jeremy, and their dad all talking, laughing. By the sound of things, his mom’s voice might be joining the mix in the not-too-distant future, only they wouldn’t be at the apartment anymore. They’d be home. Together.
I squeezed my eyes shut and felt wetness on my eyelashes.
And then I was back in the hallway, wiping my eyes dry with my fingertips, not thinking about where I was going until I was knocking softly on his door.
Guy opened it after the second knock. “What happened to your friend?”
“He was the one who had to go, not me.”
“You sure about that?”
I nodded. “Can I come in?” And then I added, “Please.” I’d been saying that word a lot to Guy lately.
Slowly, so slowly, he moved to let me in. I jumped when the door clicked shut. “I don’t think your boyfriend liked me very much.”
“I told you he’s not—and he didn’t get to know you.”
“So you think he’d like me?” Guy moved behind me, and I could feel his body heat as he stood too close. “Would he like me like you like me?”
I turned to face him and put a little distance between us. “Why wouldn’t he?”
Guy answered with a flick of his eyebrows before taking a swig from his beer. It was a different brand from my dad’s. Guy noticed me looking. “You want one?”
“I’m sixteen.”
“I know how old you are, Jolene.”
I moved farther into Guy’s apartment, heading as I inevitably always did toward his movie collection. I trailed my fingers over the glossy cases. “You want to watch something?”
“Is that what you want?”
I frowned at him.
“It seems like we always do what you want.” He dropped onto the couch and crossed his feet on the coffee table. Adam’s empty Coke can was still on the corner.
“That’s not true.”
“No? So we can do what I want? Is that what you’re saying?”
I felt a chill chase across my skin. My back was to him as I looked over his shelves. “You can pick the movie.” He didn’t answer me for the longest time, and I felt brittle and naked in front of him. He knew so much about me, my situation. And I was telling him more than I meant to every time I came back and said that same word. “Please.”
He rattled off a title and I reached for it gratefully. It wasn’t one I’d ever heard of, but for once I didn’t care. I started the movie and settled into the far corner of the couch.
“Why are you sitting all the way over there?”
“Hmm?” I tried pretending that I was engrossed in the opening credits, but I was forced to look at him when he snatched the remote and paused the movie.
“I said, ‘why are you sitting all the way over there?’”
“I like the corner.”
“Really? Then why don’t you put your feet up?”
“Sure.” I curled my legs up sideways, but Guy grasped my ankles and pulled them across his lap.
“There, isn’t that better? You can stretch out now.”
“Yeah, that’s better. Thanks.” I reached for the remote in his hand, and he let me take it. As the movie started up again, I relaxed. It was a drama, but with one character who never failed to make me laugh in his scenes. Guy laughed at him, too, and at once it was easy between us again, just like I needed. It would have been better if Adam had been there, too, but at least I wasn’t alone.
I didn’t even mind when Guy started to rub my feet. I looked at him, and he didn’t seem to be aware that he was doing it. I jerked when he touched a ticklish spot. He apologized, but then he did it again.
“Stop.” I laughed. “I can’t pay attention to the movie.”
Guy held up his hands, and I turned back to the movie. The second I relaxed my guard, he grabbed my foot and started tickling me. I squealed and tried to twist away, but he yanked me down the couch as he moved his hands up to my waist, my shirt bunching up as he attacked my bare stomach. I was laughing to the point of pain by that time, but the laughter fogged my brain, clouding out the alarms that were screaming inside my head that this wasn’t okay, the same ones that had been hovering around the edges of my thoughts since I entered Guy’s apartment. A lot longer than that, if I was being honest with myself.
The fog started to thin when I realized that Guy had me flat on my back and he was on top of me, his weight pressing me down into the cushions. He was so much bigger than I was, so much heavier. Hot flickers of panic started to whip through me, and the laughter that he kept wringing out of me was touched with half-formed words that didn’t sound like the protests I needed them to be. Suddenly he stopped tickling me. His hands were still touching me, but he wasn’t laughing and he didn’t want laughter from me either, if he ever had. He smashed his mouth down on mine and his tongue thrust inside. His hands were grabbing and squeezing and everywhere. I couldn’t catch my breath.
If I screamed, he swallowed it.
If I kicked out, his thigh pinned my leg down.
If I bucked, he pressed me harder into the couch.