Resentment, page 20
“But why do you want me to help you?”
Because I fucking like you...
“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask. “You have the best grade in the class and I’m pretty sure that being a smart ass, which you clearly are, requires quite a few brain cells, so I figure there’s no one better to ask.”
“Maybe, but I’m not interested.”
JESUS! “I’ll pay you.”
She stares at me for a while, as if she’s trying to gage if I’m being real or not. “Is that how you normally get what you want?”
“No, that’s not my normal method, but I figured you wouldn’t go for that, so I’m not going to go down that road with you.” I can’t help but smile.
“My services don’t come cheap,” she says. “They’re very expensive.”
“Honestly, I’d be disappointed if they weren’t.”
“Then in that case, I’m sure you can’t afford me.”
“Try me.” I’ve prepared for this. No number she says can be too high. I crank the engine and drive, heading toward her neighborhood again.
“Twenty dollars an hour.” She finally gives a figure.
“Deal.” I’d predicted she’d ask for fifty.
“Deal? Just like that?”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s a lot of money.”
“I’m sure you’ll be worth every penny.”
“Fine. We’ll start in a couple weeks.”
I drive straight into her subdivision and look over at her, still playing dumb like her house isn’t 5632. “I’m not letting you out of the car until you tell me which of these houses is yours. I need to make sure you get home safely.”
“So, now you’re a gentleman?”
“Only for some girls.” I wink at her, but she rolls her eyes.
“5632...Down a few more houses and on your left.”
I speed up and pull right in front of her mailbox.
“Thanks for the ride.” With her cheeks an even deeper shade of red, she practically jumps out of the car and hastily grabs her bag.
“Wait a minute,” I say. “I need your phone number...For tutoring purposes of course.”
I give her my phone and she stares at it before returning it to me, then she rushes away as if she can’t get away from me fast enough. I scroll down my contacts, looking for her name in my list of M’s but I don’t find it.
I slowly scroll through my entire list, looking for what she might’ve saved it under, and then I see it under the F’s: For Tutoring Purposes of Course.
Smiling, I send her a quick text that I know will set the tone for the start of our relationship:
This is Dean. Here’s my number, you can save it under “For ANY Purposes Of Course...”
Chapter 34
DEAN
Ten years ago...
Small Town, USA
2004
Within weeks of having tutoring sessions with Mia, I’m convinced that pursuing her may be the worst thing I’ve ever done. Not because I don’t think it won’t work out, but because me and this girl have way more in common than I initially thought.
We both have a deep desire to get the hell out of Small Town (She wants to go to Western Peak and I want to go to Harvard), we both have a high affinity for literature (She actually loves Macbeth as much as me) and we both have fucked up parents. Although she’s told me that she and her mom don’t get along, I haven’t offered much about my dad yet. Even if I do eventually tell her that we don’t get along, that he’s a liar and a manipulator, I doubt I’ll ever tell her about the drunken abuse that comes from his fists way too often.
I’ll play them off like typical injuries of the field if she ever asks, but I’ve hidden that fact for so long from everyone, that I’ll do my best not to give her the opportunity to; I just want to be around someone who sees past the fake “Dean Collins” façade, someone who makes me feel normal for the rest of the year, and Mia completes my normal.
I’m not sure if she’s figured out that my need for her tutoring is a ruse, but if she’s onto me, she hasn’t let it show. She’s actually become less difficult and if I’m not mistaken, she looks forward to our time together as much as I do...
***
Within months of having tutoring sessions with Mia, we no longer call them “tutoring sessions”. She’s finally let her guard down completely and we’re dating and it’s beyond serious. At least, to me.
She attends all of my games without me having to ask, she talks to me at all hours of the night—about the things I don’t share with anyone else, and she becomes the one and only person I can actually trust.
Through late night kisses, early morning rides to school, and secret swims at the country club, I fall in love with this girl. I become the first guy she’s ever made love to, and she becomes my first love in life.
When we’re together, I don’t see anyone else. I don’t think about anything else. She’s it for me.
I fall, hard. Harder with each day that passes, and I contemplate rethinking my future plans in regard with my recent acceptance into Harvard. I want to join her at Western Peak.
Well, until she starts to show me that she’s just like everyone else...
Chapter 35
DEAN
Sixteen weeks before prom.
At the start of the second semester, the playoff season for football is in full-swing, and I’m halfway hoping that we get eliminated in the first round so I don’t have to deal with half of my dad’s shit for the rest of the year.
Unfortunately, Mia can’t come to the first playoff game; she’s busy with last minute portfolio work for Western Peak which I more than understand. She’s texted me good luck before the game several times, and she’s promised that I can come over later to tell her about it.
Before the team takes the field, I step back into the restroom and wrap another layer of meshed bandage around my ribs. Last night, my dad pushed me into the garage door after coming home late from hanging out with Mia.
I was too tired to fight back, and he was too drunk to stop hitting me.
Wincing, I count to ten and vow to ignore it for the rest of the game. To smile at his side whenever the recruiters come to the locker room and ask for the two of us to stand side by side as they ask me their usual questions.
As the coaches begin to make their last minute motivational speeches, I notice my phone blinking through my bag. Unzipping the bag, I stare at the phone and try to rationalize the text message.
MIA: Just wishing you good luck one last time for tonight’s game! :-) I just finished my second piece for Western Peak and will finish the other two next week. I’m going to get some ice and heating pads and I’ll have them ready for you when you get here later. I love you... :-)
I don’t doubt that her wishing me luck is genuine, and her endless offers of taking care of me are always heartfelt, but I’m wondering why she wouldn’t just come to the game if she was free.
Why she uses the same excuse for the rest of them, and is an entire hour late for the championship game.
Despite the fact that she kisses me at the fifty-yard line when our team wins, the kiss feels bittersweet.
Ten weeks before prom.
I’m going to miss school today, and I’m going to miss her birthday.
I can’t show up looking like this.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I trace my fingers along the gash on the side of my face. The result of my father finding out that I’m not playing football in college. That I’ll be attending school for academics and have plenty of real scholarship offers on the table that come with no risks of broken bones or heightened expectations.
All of a sudden the door to my bedroom opens, and the asshole himself appears.
As soon as his eyes meet mine, he staggers backward, as if he doesn’t remember doing this shit hours ago.
“Son, I’m—”
“You’re not. You never are. Just stop.”
He nods slowly and steps back. “I called this doctor I know from the country club...Told him you got into a brawl and um...” He turns away from me, unable to face his own damage. “He’ll be over in an hour to patch you up. He says he’ll even write you a pass for another week off from school.”
“Yay,” I say dryly. “Another missed week for child abuse.”
“If it’s fucking child abuse,” he says, quickly snapping. “Why haven’t you turned me in? Huh? Why haven’t you fucking turned me in? It’s because you hurt me back sometimes, too. It’s because you’ve broken some of my bones here or there, too.”
“I haven’t turned you in because I pity you,” I say honestly. “And because you have no one else who’d bail you out.”
His face goes white and he looks as if someone just slapped him across the face. The beer bottle in his hand drops into my trashcan, but as he leaves my room, I know he’s heading downstairs to grab another.
Looking at my mangled reflection once more, I shake my head in disbelief but I immediately text Mia.
DEAN: Happy Birthday, Mia. Did you get my flowers this morning?
MIA: I did :-) Thank you. Are we still going out tonight?
DEAN: No, I’m sorry. I can’t come.
MIA: Why not?
DEAN: I just can’t come. I want you to call and tell me all about it later though.
MIA: Dean...You’re the only person (outside of Autumn) that I actually want to see tonight...why can’t you come?
DEAN: It’s hard to explain.
MIA: Okay...Well, can you explain why you haven’t been to school in a week? Why you’re not letting me come over to see you?
DEAN: No. That’s hard to explain too.
MIA: Okay.
DEAN: Okay.
DEAN: Enjoy your birthday, Mia. I really do mean that.
MIA: Totally shows.
I wait for her to text me something else, to act like the girl I fell in love with just months ago and say that she’s coming over regardless so I can finally tell someone about what really goes on in the shadows, but she never does.
I miss another week of school, we sporadically text here or there, and when I return to classes, we see each other and everything seems to be okay again. Everything seems cool, except the thin layer of resentment that’s beginning to build up in my chest.
I try to prevent it from spreading, but as the weeks pass, it only gets worse.
Four weeks before prom.
The final draft of Central high’s yearbook is revealed on a Friday and to my surprise (not really) I’m deemed “Mr. Popular” again. What’s a complete surprise though is the newly crowned “Miss Popular”: Mia Gray.
I had no idea she’d actually taken me up on my bet to run until I see the spread, but as she rushes over to me during lunch and hugs me, I tell her congratulations.
I tell her I want to go somewhere private to celebrate—just us, but I really need to talk to her about my dad. I need to ask for her advice about whether I should finally turn him in, or whether I should just request to do summer session at Harvard so I can move out early.
She doesn’t even give my private invitation much thought at all. She wants to hang out with the rest of the superlatives, and even though I’m happy that she’s finally enjoying her time in high school, it only makes me want to withdraw more. It only makes me feel like she’s putting me on the backburner for something I told her was superficial, something she never seemed to want before.
Two weeks before prom.
Today is the last day I’ll talk to Mia.
Today is the last day I’ll let her make me feel this way.
She hasn’t called to tell me happy birthday, hasn’t texted to ask why I’ve missed the fourth day of school in a row, and as the country club doctor attends to another set of wounds, I realize that I resent her. That I’m going to make her feel exactly how she’s made me feel...
Chapter 36
MIA
Present day.
“Where do you want these?” Autumn asks holding up a box labeled “art supplies.”
“Next to my easels over there,” I say, pointing towards the dining room. I bring in the last box from the hall and take a moment to look around my new home. It’s nowhere near as extravagant as Eric’s place but since he’s paying for it, I can’t complained. Right after that argument with Dean in the rain that night, I immediately called Autumn. I told her I was pulling a Bff trump card and I needed her to come to Portland ASAP. No questions asked. Still reeling, the second I arrived home, I started packing my things and I called a twenty four hour mover service. I also called Eric, voice trembling, and told him I was moving out.
“Moving out?” He said. “Where the hell are you going?”
“To a hotel for a couple of days but I’m having all of my stuff put into storage, because I just can’t live here anymore.”
“Mia, you’re not making any sense.”
“I’m making perfect sense. I just wanted to let you know.”
“You don’t have enough money to live anywhere in this city alone.” He’d sounded irritated. “You don’t have a car of your own, your job pays you in shit, and you—“ He paused. “How much do you need?”
I told him that I had no interest in taking his money, but he insisted and made it clear that he could more than afford it. In the middle of the movers coming to get my stuff, he managed to contact one of his non-disclosure clients and she’d agreed to meet me at a small condo on the other side of the waterfront. Keys and all. No questions asked.
I’ve’ managed to hold back my tears for two days, but I’m probably going to make it through today without crying. I can only hold so much more inside, especially with everything around me reminding me of what situation brought me here.
“Mia? Hello?” Autumn waves a glass in front of my face.
“Sorry.” I grab the glass and add it with the others in the cabinet.
“Are you okay? I was calling your name for a long time,” She says looking worried.
“I’m fine.” I offer a half-smile.
“Mia, you’re not fine, I don’t expect you to be fine right now.”
“Good, because I finally admit that I’m not.”
“You’re not going to talk about it today are you?”
“No.”
“Okay, well we won’t talk about it today then.” She uses the hem of her t-shirt to wipe my face.
“How about Friday?”
“Friday I can probably do.”
Just like that, an emotional conversation that would undoubtedly lead to a mental breakdown, has been avoided. That’s what I love about Autumn, she knows me so well, she’s well aware that talking about it isn’t going to make it any better right now. I still need time to process everything, and unfortunately that ‘everything’ includes what happened ten years ago all over again as well.
She helps me unpack the first set of boxes in my living room and she doesn’t ask me any questions or turn on any music. We work around each other in utter silence, and every now and then, she walks up to me and pulls me into her arms for a hug.
Later that night, she buys a vintage bottle of white wine, and sets two sleeping bags against my bare bedroom floor. As I lay down for a nap, she decides to takes on the task of going through all my personal items, and removing all traces of Dean before phase two unpacking tomorrow.
Once she’s done, I’m not yet ready to turn in for the night, so we go to the store and buy paint for an accent wall where my bed will eventually go. We paint the wall an emerald green, but then I remember that particular color reminds me of Dean’s eyes, so we repaint the wall beige. Beige ends up being fucking boring so we go back over it with the green again. It doesn’t looks as green this time, or at least that’s what I plan on telling myself.
Chapter 37
MIA
The next morning Autumn wakes me up with hot coffee and a bag of toasted bagels from the café across the street.
“So,” she says, handing me a packet of cream cheese. “What do you want to do today since the rest of your furniture won’t be here until later?”
“I want to convince you to stay for another week. No, wait, you’ve only been here two days so far. Can you make it three weeks?”
“I would if I could.” She smiles. “But I don’t have a lenient boss and I’m pretty sure my fiancé won’t appreciate that.”
“I can’t believe you and Jacob lasted all this time. That’s amazing.”
“Yeah, we’re so not going there today. Answer my question, what do you want to do today?”
“I was thinking about going up to the roof and standing at the edge. Then jumping.”
“Okay. Dramatic much?”
“Sorry.”
“You know what, I have the perfect pick me up,” she says, walking over to the corner and retrieving her laptop. She gets back into her sleeping bag and motions for me to do the same.
“Online shopping?”
“Better, online dating.”
“You’re not serious right now?”
“I’m completely serious, you know what they say: The best way to get over a guy is to get under another.”
“Yeah...I’m pretty sure that only applies after some significant time has passed.”
“Some significant time has passed, this is day three.”
“Could you please be serious for five seconds?”
“I am being serious. Everyone does it, Mia. It’s time for you to join the rest of the world.”
“I’ll pass. Thank you.”
“Like hell you will.” She places the laptop down in front of me. “Let’s create your profile.”
I shake my head at her and take a big gulp of my coffee.
“Okay, what are you looking for?”
“Peace of mind, freedom from assholes.”
“No,” she says, typing. “You’re looking for guys between the age of 26 to 34, friendship, short-term dating, and casual sex.”
“Wait, what?” I nearly choke “Autumn! I’m not looking for casual sex.”
“Yes, you are. Some great sex might be just the thing you need.”
“I’m not screwing a guy I meet online.”
