I nod. “I know that. Shit, you have taken better care of yourself than I take care of myself. That’s not even a question. You’re just very stubborn sometimes,” I state.
“Sometimes?”
I chuckle. “Shit, Megs, you’ve always been stubborn. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.”
Shrugging she sets down the beer and walks over to me. “Why would you want to protect me?” she asks, her eyes searching mine from beneath dark lashes.
I’m about to confess that I love her, that I never stopped loving her, that I am in love with her when a crashing noise from outside has us both turning our heads.
“What was that?” I ask, stepping toward the door. She’s two paces behind me as I open it and look down the open walkway to the ground floor below. I don’t see anything, but I hear the distinct scraping of metal on metal. “Stay here.”
“No way. I’m not staying by myself,” she whispers as she shuts the door and follows me down the stairs. We walk out into the small parking area in front of our building. I see a hooded figure running down the street. Looking around, nothing strikes me as off until I hear Megan gasp. She doesn’t wait for me as she starts running.
“Megan!” I hiss as I take off after her.
She stops suddenly in front of her car and I come barreling up to her. Her hand is on her mouth and my eyes follow her gaze. Fuck.
The windshield is cracked like someone hit it with a bat and there are scratches down the sides of her car. The top of her hood is carved with the word “bitch” on it.
Looking back at her, I see the shock wear off and tears start to well in her eyes. She doesn’t speak as she pulls out her phone and hands it to me. “Call them.”
“Call who?”
She turns her head. The tears now stream down her face and I am suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to pummel whoever did this to her car. “The cops.”
I nod and dial the non-emergency police number that pops up on her phone. Why she has that on her phone, I don’t know, but I’m glad she does. I explain what has happened to the woman who answers. She tells us to wait somewhere safe and that she will send out a police car.
Hanging up, I look over at Megan. “Come on, let’s go wait inside. We can’t do anything out here and I’d rather we be safe than sorry.”
She nods and turns to walk to the apartment. She makes it two steps before a sob escapes her lips. I pull her against me and let her cry. “It’s OK. We’ll get your car fixed. I promise,” I murmur into her hair.
“I’m s-so s-stupid,” she stammers as she cries into my shirt. “I sh-should have j-just s-studied and n-not h-had fun t-this semester.”
I squeeze her more tightly and kiss the top of her head. “No. You are not going to deny yourself living your life because someone is an asshole. You can’t control everything, Meg. When will you get that through your thick skull? You can’t do it. And that’s OK. Don’t stop living because things don’t always go as planned. Because sometimes the things that don’t go as planned are the best things.”
She quiets after a moment, sniffling and pulling back from me. “Sorry…I…I’m a bit of a mess this weekend. I…” She trails off and I lean down and slowly kiss her lips. They are salty from tears and she tenses at first before relaxing against me.
I pull back after a moment. “Let’s get inside.”
She nods, not arguing for once, and takes my offered hand.
Megan
I’m still trembling as I sit on Clark’s sofa waiting for the police to show up. Clark’s gone into overdrive. He’s called my parents and explained. He’s called my insurance company and helped me start filing my claim. He’s brought me tea, my favorite one, Earl Grey, without me even reminding him of which tea flavor is my favorite. Under other circumstances, I’d ask why he even had that tea in his apartment, but I’m too overwhelmed at the moment.
I blow on the hot tea and there is a knock at the door. Clark jumps back up and answers it. It’s two police officers who ask us a few questions. We walk back out to the car with the officers and show them everything. They take photos and fill out a report.
“Have you had any issues with anyone lately?” the younger, shorter officer asks me.
I shake my head.
“Your sorority house,” Clark says quietly. The officer’s gaze travels to Clark.
I shrug. “My sorority house was vandalized yesterday, but I don’t know if this is related to that or not.”
“Did you file a police report?” the officer asks.
I nod. “With the campus police.”
The other officer nods and radios in to get the report from the sorority house.
“Anything else you can think of?” the officer asks me.
“No. I don’t think so,” I state as I look back at my car.
Clark wraps an arm around me. “What about Anthony?” he asks.
The officer looks back up at Clark. “Who’s Anthony?”
I sigh. “Just this jerk who tried to hook up with me the other night.”
“And have you had any contact with him since then?” the officer asks.
“He was lingering around the sorority house a few weeks ago. We got in a bit of a scuffle when he wouldn’t leave,” Clark says.
“And besides then?” the officer prods.
“Just when I saw him at a club a few weeks ago. I hadn’t seen him in years before that,” I explain.
The officer nods and scribbles down some more notes. “OK. Well, we’ll increase our patrol down this street and by the sorority house.” He glances at the sorority sticker on my car window next to my college sticker.
“I would try not to be out on your own until this gets resolved,” the officer suggests.
“OK,” I whisper. I hate that. I hate that someone did this to me. I hate that I feel…violated. It’s just a damn car, why do I feel like this?
“Here’s your copy for your records and the insurance company,” the officer says, handing me a form.
I nod. “Thanks,” I mutter.
“Your insurance company should be able to get the windshield replaced quickly, but it’s not drivable until you do. They can switch them out on site. I’d call first thing tomorrow,” the officer says before returning to his squad car.
We watch as they drive away.
“This sucks,” I huff, crossing my arms as my shock and sadness and self-pity turn to rage.
“We’ll get it fixed. Don’t worry,” Clark assures me as he guides me back inside.
He leads me to the sofa and hands me my now lukewarm tea. I take a sip of it.
“Why do you even have this tea?” I ask, remembering my earlier thought.
He sits down next to me with a cup of tea. “Your obsession with it might have worn off on me by the time we were thirteen.”
“What? Seriously? How did I not know this?”
He laughs. “I wasn’t exactly advertising it. Di likes it, so we had it in the house, and I’d drink it on occasion.” He’s quiet for a moment. “It made me think of you every time I had a cup.”
I smile slightly at the thought of Clark thinking about me. “You thought about me?” I ask, my voice filled with hope.