Dec 28, 2008

        I’m back home after spending the night at Scott’s. I slept in until 11 or so, and by the time I woke up Scott had already been awake for a while doing chores around his house. We had coffee together and he made me a light lunch of eggs and toast before I walked back to my house.

        I made my own coffee and I’m sitting in my room having a cigarette with the window open. I should probably drive out to the highway and call my parents, but I really don’t feel like it today. Things are weighing too heavily on my mind, and I think I need to think and write for a while before I talk to anyone.

I need to recount my history with Roxanne, not just for whoever might read this, but for myself. I need to prepare myself for my side of that conversation with Scott, because I think it’ll come soon, especially after the direction things went last night.

        Roxanne and I go way back. She lived in a little house off a long driveway off of Highway 72, kind of like I did. We rode the same bus, so when I was seven years old she began kindergarten and we were the first children to be picked up and last to be dropped off since we lived so far out of town.

        Roxanne was a tiny, bony girl for her age with greasy golden blonde hair and large, heavily lidded blue eyes. Through most of her childhood her parents had her wear her hair in a boyish bowl cut. Her clothes were always old, worn out and sometimes she smelled bad. When I was little I didn’t think much of it because my own hygiene wasn’t very good until I was older.

        Our parents know each other also. When my dad was home in Lake of the Woods he worked as a freelance mechanic, and Roxanne’s dad, Larry Thompson, owned a little gas station in town called Leapin’ Larry’s, and the logo depicted a Walleye leaping with a lure in its mouth. Sometimes my dad would work on Larry’s trucks, but he always told me and my mom that Larry was a loser drunk who never paid on time.

        The first few years Roxanne and I rode the bus together we would play together. Our busdriver’s name was Ralph and he was a kindly old man who let us climb all over the seats and throw candy at each other without reprimand.

One day after my dad and I watched the Red Green Show together for the first time, I showed Roxanne how to tell cars behind the bus to “Get Stuffed!” We held up our middle fingers and laughed as people in the cars would hold up their middle fingers back to us. When Ralph saw what we were doing he laughed heartily and told us that the middle finger was very bad, and that it meant “Get fucked!” At the time Roxanne and I didn’t know what the difference was, so we would do it more sneakily so Ralph wouldn’t see.

Another day Roxanne brought a lighter onto the bus and we burned holes in the seats in the back. Since teenagers also did this and most seats had marks, Ralph didn’t realize it was us and we never got in trouble for it. We colored in our coloring books and I taught her how to spell swear words and we would draw cocks and boobs on the characters from The Lion King, The Little Mermaid, and many other innocent subjects.

Sometimes we would do actual kid things like play Sonic the Hedgehog on my Sega Gamegear together, but usually we were up to no good. I think we both learned a bit too much from our parents and we would share this knowledge with each other.

Things got scary when a 17 year old mentally disabled boy named Nick started riding our bus. I was ten then, and Roxanne was eight. Nick would always want to sit in my seat, and at first I didn’t mind since by the time he got on the bus we were almost to school and most of the seats were taken. One day, he sat in my seat, two seats behind Ralph and the seat across from Roxanne, and he asked me if I would be his girlfriend. I said no, that I was too young for boys his age, but that didn’t deter him. I felt him close in on me, attempting to kiss me, and I made myself as small as I could in the corner of my seat.

“Ralph! Nick is trying to kiss Christine!” I heard Roxanne cry.

“Nick! Knock it off and find another seat, right now!” Ralph’s gruff voice sounded as I began to slide to the floor to evade Nick’s advances.

Nick’s face got very close to mine even though I was crumpled up on the floor with my hands over my eyes. “Come on, be my girlfriend!” he exclaimed.

Suddenly I heard a thud and Nick exclaimed. “Ow!”

“Roxanne, stop that!” Ralph’s voice said.

Another thud. “He’s still in her seat!” Roxanne yelled before I heard another thud.

“Ow!” Nick cried and sat up. “She’s hitting me!”

Tears formed in my eyes and I flattened myself under the seat, waiting for the ordeal to end. I heard another thud and a high pitched squeal. It was Roxanne.

I felt the bus slow down as Ralph’s voice sounded. “Knock it off, both of you! Nick, get to the back of the bus, now!”

Nick didn’t immediately move. Ralph had to stop the bus and pull him from my seat. Luckily we weren't far from school and once we were there Roxanne and I had to tell some teachers and staff what happened and Nick never rode our bus again.

The next day I remember thanking Roxanne for defending me. She just smiled and asked if I had any candy, so I gave her the Snickers bar I’d brought in my backpack.

Things carried on the same way for a couple of years, us playing together while Ralph ignored our bad behavior, until I was twelve. Ralph decided to retire and we got a new bus driver, Lance Russel. Lance immediately made me feel uneasy. He smelled like body odor and was skinny with a red face and scraggly short hair and beard.

Normally I was the first one on the bus since I was the farthest away, but when Lance started driving, Roxanne would be on the bus by the time I got on. When I asked her why, she said it was so Lance wouldn’t have to take a left on the highway coming out from her driveway. I didn’t think much of it at first.

Roxanne and I always sat in the second row back when Ralph drove the bus, and we continued at first when Lance began driving. Ralph never engaged in our everyday conversations unless we asked him a question or he told us not to do something, but Lance would listen in and engage with us in a way that I would think now was creepy, but I didn’t know any better back then. We would just look at each other and roll our eyes.

We tried to circumvent Lance’s invasiveness by selecting seats closer to the back of the bus, but he told us we had to sit in the front since we were the only ones there for so long and he had to keep an eye on us. We became quieter and we didn’t play as much, knowing he was watching and listening. I started bringing a discman on the bus and listening to music by myself instead of playing with Roxanne. She didn’t have anything like that so she would just end up staring out the window.

I remember one day my discman had died and I had to listen to the radio with Roxanne and Lance. Roxanne by The Police came on and Lance was slurring the lyrics while leering in the mirror at Roxanne. She frowned, covered her face, and put her head down.

“That’s fucking creepy,” I said and sneered at Lance in the mirror. “You’d better stop or she’ll tell her parents.”

“Oh, yeah? Larry and Annie are good friends of mine, little girl. How about I tell your parents about how much you misbehave every day?”

I glared at him but didn’t say anything. I was always in trouble with my mom, and I didn’t need any more burdens at home. She was constantly upset with me about something and would punish me by making me clean the entire house or do hours of back breaking yard work while she terrorized me, so I didn’t want her involved.

He spat on the floor and laughed. “That’s what I thought.”

Roxanne and I exchanged pained looks and I shook my head before staring out the window.

The next day as I got on the bus and went to sit in my seat across from Roxanne, Lance stopped me.

“No. You’re too old now to sit in the front. Go sit in the back,” he said.

I hesitated and looked at Roxanne. She appealed to me with her eyes, like she didn’t want to be left alone with him at the front of the bus.

“I don’t wanna sit in the back,” I said and plopped down in my usual spot.

He sighed, something rattling in his lungs. He always reeked like cigarettes. “I’m not moving this damned bus ‘til you do as I say, little girl.”

I looked out the window. My dad was long gone to work and my mom was the only one in the house. I knew she would yell at me if I didn’t comply.

“Whatever, weirdo,” I said, and with a slight sense of relief grabbed my bag and made my way towards the back of the bus, careful not to make eye contact with Roxanne.

For a while I began taking snacks and candy on the bus and discarding my trash on the floor. Everything I didn’t want I would throw on the floor. I would stick chewed up gum under the seats, drop candy I didn’t want on the ground, and discard the wrappers.

One spring day on the way home from school I dropped a sucker I no longer wanted on the floor. I was thirteen and had just gotten my first period a few months before. My mom didn’t buy me any bras even though I was quickly developing, and now looking back at pictures of me then, I see how vulgar and confusing I looked. I didn’t have a jacket on that day, just a tight tee-shirt and jeans, and as I got up to get out of the bus to go home Lance approached me.

“What?” I asked, just wanting to get off the bus. Roxanne had her place in the front and she was staring back at us.

Lance pointed at the floor. “You’ve been throwing garbage on the floor every day for a long time. I’m sick of picking it up.”

I shrugged. “That wasn’t me. That’s the highschoolers,” I said, my heart speeding up.

He got close to my face, his cigarette breath making me want to gag, and I recoiled. “I’m not stupid. I watch you. Now, pick this shit up,” he said and pointed to some candy wrappers and a sucker I’d discarded.

I backed up to bend over and pick up the trash and he stepped closer to me so when I was low to the ground I could see his feet. He made a motion to step on one of my fingers as I picked up the sucker and laughed when I pulled my hand back.

“Pick it up! Now!” he growled.

I glared at him. “Don’t step on me, then!” I gingerly plucked the sticky, fuzzy sucker from the floor.

“You shouldn’t be wasting food,” he said. “There’s kids starving in Africa.”

I stood, my eyes widening and anger flaring. “Fucking send it to them, then! Let me off,” I cried and tried to shimmy by him.

He got so close to me that he was pressed up against me. “No,” he said in a low voice. “Eat it. Now.”

I backed away from him into one of the seats. “What? No! It’s trash! Let me go or I’ll tell my…” I trailed off, thinking about how it would go if I tried to tell my parents what happened. My mom would ask me what I’d done wrong, and my dad would maybe make a half-hearted attempt to defend me before leaving the room, and I’d be left with my mom and whatever bizarre and insufferable punishment she would concoct for me.

“You’ll what now?” he asked as though he knew my predicament. Maybe he did. My mom knew him and sometimes drank with him at the muni.

I made eye contact with him and sneered as I put the sucker in my mouth. It was gritty and fuzzy and I wanted to gag but I made it a point to not look pained. I bit down on it hard and crunched the sticky cherry sugar between my teeth before pulling the stick from my mouth and clenching my fist around it.

He laughed nastily. “I know what you are, little girl. Get out, and no more trash on the floor or I’ll give you something to suck on!”

I practically ran off the bus as Roxanne looked at me with wide eyes. I avoided her gaze and ran into my house to rinse out my mouth.

From that day forward I tried very hard to tune out everything around me when I was on the bus. I would listen to music and do homework, or sleep. To this day I’m not sure exactly what went on in the front of the bus between Roxanne and Lance, but I knew it couldn’t be good.

Meanwhile at school Roxanne suddenly became popular with kids in my own grade, and I was still very unpopular. I had a couple of friends who were similarly shunned for being weird and awkward, but none of us had any social capital to speak of. When I was in eighth grade and she was in sixth grade she would be among the crowd next to my locker, and often they wouldn’t disperse until I asked a teacher to make them move. They would all make fun of me then, her included.

I was very eager to get my driver’s license, and once I passed my test when I was 16 my dad got me a ‘98 Dodge Intrepid he’d fixed up for my birthday. I persuaded my parents to let me drive to school, saying truthfully that I’d be going in early for help with homework, and I no longer needed to take the bus.

A few weeks after this new and refreshing development, I was at home doing homework when my mom came into my room carrying the newly cordless phone. “Christine, Roxanne Thompson is on the phone. She wants to ask you something,” she said and smiled sweetly as she handed me the phone and left my room.

“Roxanne?” I asked, annoyed. “What do you want?”

The line was silent for a few seconds. “I heard you got your driver’s license,” Roxanne’s voice said, small and weak.

I felt a guilty sense of triumph. “Yeah,” I said. “So what?”

She was silent for a few moments again. “Could you bring me to school with you, by chance? Even if it’s just some days…”

I frowned, thinking of the times she’d joined in with the kids who had teased me before and between my classes. “Really? Why would I do that?”

Silence for a few seconds. “Lance…” she said softly.

I shrugged. “That’s not my problem. I go in early and stay late lots of days. Get fucked, Roxy,” I said, referring to the name bestowed upon her by the popular kids, and hung up, my heart racing.

I brought the phone back downstairs as my dad was making dinner and my mom was watching TV in the living room.

“What did Roxanne want?” my mom asked.

I shrugged. “She wanted me to give her rides to school, but I can’t ‘cause I go in at different times than her.”

My dad laughed and shook his head. “Larry still owes me money, that cock-sucker. I never get gas at that place. White trash, and that Annie is a puss bag!”

My mom smirked and shook her head before taking a long drink of her rum and coke. “Christine, don’t you need to clean your bathroom?”

I gritted my teeth. “Yeah, I was gonna do it after dinner.”

She looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “Do it now! It’s a disaster and your room is a mess. Once you’re done you can eat.”

I stomped my way up the stairs, almost slipping on the steps, and I did what I was told, and such was my life through high school until I moved out two weeks after I turned 18.

The rift between Roxanne and I escalated when I was in tenth grade. My mom finally got me deodorant and bras, as well as normal looking clothes when we would go shopping in Fargo. I thought I was finally looking pretty, doing well in school, and my friends were no longer the shunned losers but the nerdy people who took band seriously, were in the advanced math and English classes, and played golf.

I’d also been talking to Scott by that time. He would be at the school early when I’d go in for help with trigonometry and English, and I would chat with him between my working sessions with my teachers and class beginning. The problem of the popular kids, including Roxanne, crowding my locker had never subsided, and Scott would often be the person I’d ask for help clearing them away, and by that time I was too exhausted to feel embarrassed about it.

One day I opened my locker and a little folded up note fell to the floor. I opened it up and it was from a boy I liked, Jacob Murray, saying he liked me and wanted me to meet him next to his locker. Looking back I should have known it was a setup. He’d never talked to me except in physical science class, where he asked for help with assignments.

I approached him at his locker carrying two frosted cookies, one for each of us, at the time he suggested in the note, and he looked confused. “Christine, I never wrote you any note,” he said and grimaced.

There was a crowd of kids around the locker who broke out into laughter, and Roxanne was one of them. When I looked around, embarrassed, a boy raised his eyebrows and pointed to Roxanne.

I quickly approached her. “Did you write this fucking note?” I asked and flung it at her.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she asked, incredulous, but holding back laughter.
        I sneered and shoved the frosted cookies in her face. “White trash bitch!” I exclaimed. “Maybe your dad should pay his fucking bills for my dad fixing his shitty ass truck! Or is your puss bag mom eating all the money?”

The kids around gasped and laughed at what I said. I wasn’t sure if they were siding with me or her, but I assumed I was alone in the confrontation.

She wiped away the frosting and gave me a venomous look. “Sorry you’re ugly and no one likes you!” she cried.

A guy named Jay Johnson shook his head and laughed. “Terrible comeback, Roxy.”

I raised an eyebrow and looked at her, ignoring Jay. “Ugly? I’d rather be ugly than be the school whore!” The kids standing around us began murmuring and exclaiming, and I started to walk away before Scott intervened.

“What’s going on here?” he asked. He was wearing the sweater vest and black slacks I always remembered.

Tears welled in my eyes. “She’s harassing me! She wrote me a fake note–”

He shook his head and pointed at both of us. “My office. Now.”

I picked the note up from the ground and hurried after him, and I glared back at Roxanne as she followed, wiping frosting from her face.

We had a short meeting where Roxanne and I described everything that had happened, and I was surprised that she admitted to writing the note.

“It was a joke,” she said. “I didn’t know she’d get so mad about it.”

Scott sighed. “Look, it wasn’t nice of you to write this note, Roxanne. But Christine, you’re the one who made it physical, throwing those cookies. And your insults were very vulgar. You’re too old to be behaving like this.”

My eyes widened as I looked at him and I gestured wildly. “She was messing with me and Jacob! That’s harassment! It’s not like I hurt her!”

Scott shook his head. “This isn’t the way to handle it. The fact is you got physical. Roxanne, you can go.”

She looked at me with a combination of smugness and hurt in her eyes as she left the office.

I put my face into my hands. “You can’t be serious! She’s been harassing me for years. Isn’t there something to be said for like…psychological damage?”

Scott sighed. “She’s in eighth grade, Christine. There’s no excuse for what you’ve done. Look, I’m not gonna make a huge deal of this but I’m gonna have to suspend you for a day.”

I laughed, incredulous. “Really? And nothing for her?”

He sighed. “It was just a note. You escalated and made the situation violent. I’m gonna call your parents and let them know.”

I put my head down on his desk as he called my house. I knew my mom would answer. Tears dripped from my eyes onto the wood as he explained the situation and asked if my mom  could pick me up.

When he hung up I wiped the tears from my face. “You have no idea how miserable things are gonna be for me now,” I whispered.

“Christine, accountability is an important lesson. There’s no excuse for shoving cookies in someone’s face. Sometimes you have to be the better person. This will pass, but I hope you learn from it.”

When my mom picked me up that day it was indeed miserable. The whole house had to be cleaned as she berated me, and she kept me up most the night talking about how awful of a person I was as she drank more rum and cokes. She told me in her slurred voice how terrible a person I was, and how awful it was that I never helped Roxanne, despite who her parents were. I think I maybe slept for three hours through the day I was dismissed from school and the following day that I was suspended. I don’t wanna think about that right now. I’m shaking.

After that Roxanne and I avoided each other. Kids didn’t crowd my locker as much, but as word of the story spread I also lost friends from my advanced classes and band. I was more isolated than ever, but I was so engrossed in reading and my studies that it didn’t make much of a difference to me.

Over Christmas break that year I got very sick with chicken pox for the second time. Every inch of my body had at least one pock, and I was so nauseated that I couldn’t function for a month and a half. My mom was extra attentive to me and we bonded as she helped me take showers and we watched reality shows together. I missed two weeks of school after break because it was so bad, and I had to do my homework independently at home to keep up, which I succeeded at.

By the time I was well enough to return to school I felt like a monster. I still had deep welts and scabs all over my face and body. I remember the first day I was about to drive back to school, I was crying in front of the bathroom mirror and my mom heard me.

“Christine, the spots will heal. You’re still my beautiful girl,” she said and smiled in the mirror.

“I look like a freak,” I sobbed. “I’ll never be the same again,” I said and broke down, crumpling myself on the bathroom floor.

She crouched down next to me and took me in her arms. “It’s alright, baby girl. We’ll fix it. You need to go back to school though, okay?”

I couldn’t even wipe my tears away because of the deep scabs on my face. “It hurts so much,” I whispered.

“I know, baby. But you gotta go to class,” she said softly and kissed my forehead.

I wanted to ask her why she was being so nice to me, but I knew I just needed to appreciate it while it lasted. It never lasted long. I nodded and forced myself to collect my stuff and put my jacket on and drive to school.

I was exhausted when I arrived and went to my locker. Kids cleared the way for me, probably not wanting to contract my disease. I went along my day in a stupor, and as I was collecting my books and things from my locker to leave I saw Roxanne. She gave me a small smile like she felt sorry for me and my gut reaction was to smile back.

My mom gave me the horrific advice to cover up my pox marks by tanning, and she bought me credits at the tanning salon in town. At the time I thought it was so relaxing to go to the salon after school and lay down in the hot, bright light for 20 minutes. While the darkening of my skin lessened the look of the scabs, I saw that the pox marks were getting darker. I truly looked freakish.

I poured myself into reading my books and writing fanfiction online, posting it when I was at school with an internet connection since we didn’t have it at home. I had one friend, Deanna, that read the same Redwall books I did and also wrote fanfiction. We were both losers and we both played golf. She didn’t seem to care about my altered appearance and we would hang out before and after school in the computer lab and talk about our reading and writing.

One morning we were in the computer lab and she was reading a Redwall fanfiction story I was working on. She grimaced. “Christine…why does Bluefen’s character even like Swartt when he treats her like that? It’s not even romantic. This is scary.”

I frowned. “Have you even read The Outcast of Redwall? He was never nice to her since it was an arranged marriage. I was just expanding on it, from her point of view.”

She shook her head. “I don’t like reading this. You’ll get more reviews if you don’t write this kinda stuff anymore.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Not everyone can get tons of reviews unless you’re writing about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy fucking.”

Deanna laughed just as Roxanne sat down at one of the computers next to us.

“What’re you guys talking about?” she asked.

I sighed and looked at Deanna. She knew my past strife with Roxanne.

“You’d have to read books to get it, Roxy,” Deanna said.

“Yeah?” Roxanne asked. “What books?” Her sincerity with the question softened me.

I sighed and fished in my backpack. “Here. This is one of my favorites. I’m writing a fanfic about it.” I tossed my copy of The Outcast of Redwall towards her.

She took the book and ran her fingers over the cover. “This looks interesting,” she said. “So you write your own stories about it? Is that what a fanfic is?”

I wanted to laugh at her for not knowing what a fanfic was, but I couldn’t bring myself to be cruel to her. She seemed so small and curious. I felt guilt for the past all at once.

“Yeah, that’s what a fanfic is. It’s when you read the book and you wish something else could have happened, so you write it yourself,” I said. “You can keep it if you want.”

Roxanne smiled to herself but quickly pursed her lips before she looked at me. “Thanks, Christine. Hey…are you alright? I know you had the chicken pox…”

I tried to cover my face with my hair, which I’d grown long. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just…still healing.”

Deanna looked from Roxanne to me, uneasy. I gently nodded to her that Roxanne was being alright to me. I was grateful for Deanna's consideration of my feelings. She was the only real friend I had then.

“Roxy, if you wanna ever write a fanfic I’d review it for you,” I ventured to say. “It’s kinda fun if you’d ever wanna try it.”

She smiled in a sneaky way, and I recognized it from our days on the bus. “Okay. I’ll read this and write a fanfic if you’d wanna read it.”

I grinned. “I’d love to read it. Also, it can be dirty!”

Deanna laughed. “Dirty is like…a requirement to get reviews these days!”

The three of us laughed together and I felt like it was the old times with Roxanne, where we’d color vulgar things in our coloring books and flip people off. Roxanne pressed the book to her chest. “I have to go meet Jacob by his locker,” she said and hurried away.

My enthusiasm dropped as I realized she was talking about Jacob Murray, the guy she’d pretended to write the note from. “Trashy bitch,” I murmured.

Deanna sighed and shook her head. “You really are two faced, you know that?”

I inhaled a deep breath. “You don’t know…you know what, fuck it,” I said and gathered up my things and went out to my car. Sometimes between breaks or before class I would recline my car seat and lay down, listening to music. I had “The Unknown” playing by Crossfade as I stared up at the beige roof. I felt hurt and numb at the same time. I wished I had something to put my feelings into besides my sense of academic superiority. I kicked my feet and hit my steering wheel as tears formed in my eyes.

Knocks sounded at my window and I jumped, covering my face.

“Christine, are you alright?” Scott mouthed outside the window.

I turned down the music, took the keys out of the ignition, and got out of my car. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just about to go to Trigonometry,” I said, looking down at the ground.

Scott followed me as I walked towards the entrance to the school. “Christine?” he asked, as though my name were a question.

I shot a venomous glance at him, remembering how he’d suspended me and let Roxanne go. “Scott?” I asked, mocking him.

“Are you okay?” he asked as I opened the door.

I sneered as I pushed the door closed behind me. “No. Leave me alone,” I said as the door latched shut and I jogged to my class.

Roxanne and I didn’t interact directly much after that, as though she sensed my coldness with the revelation that she was with the guy I had liked and who she’d written the fake note from. They broke up after a few months, but I held onto my resentment. I don’t know if she ever read the book I gave her. It wasn’t until the end of my junior year of high school that we began hanging out with the same people thanks to Paul’s friend, Tyler.

I was feeling extra nihilistic when the juniors and seniors went on a field trip to the Mall  of America. Deanna was with me, and I felt reckless, and each trash can we walked by, I made sure to give an explicit compliment to.

“Oh baby, I like that smell,” I said and blew a kiss to one trash can. Deanna cracked up laughing. “Oh, don’t you want me inside you?” I asked the next trash can as I made a show to lean into it.

Tyler had noticed and was apparently impressed by my immature behavior. “Hey Christine, I’m trash. What about me?” he’d said just as I was leaning towards another garbage can.

I blushed. Tyler was never someone I expected to pay attention to me. He was tall, wiry, and one of the smart stoner kids a year older than me. Kids called him the Keebler Elf but I didn’t see it. “Um…you’re like…Tyler, right?” I asked, my face red hot.

He chuckled. “Yeah, and you’re Christine Moreau?”

I cringed at my whole name. “Yeah. Sorry. I was about to move onto the Auntie Annie’s trash…”

He smiled. “You’re funny. We should hang out sometime.”

Somehow a couple weeks later Tyler and I ended up making out in the parking lot of the bowling alley, then we were boyfriend and girlfriend. The problem was I couldn’t have sex until I left my house. My mom always said she would know, and she would not approve, until I was an adult and on some sort of birth control that she didn’t want to help me get.

Tyler had slept with other girls before me and I was a virgin, and it was always a problem when we’d end up at parties, drunk and making out, and I’d have to refuse him because I knew my mom would yell at me if I had sex. He was always confused. Why did it matter? He didn’t understand that she would always know, no matter how hard I tried to hide it.

He was going away to Michigan Tech for Architecture when he graduated, so I understood that our relationship was temporary. I told him he could sleep with other girls, and that all I wanted was to spend the summer between my junior and senior year with him. We had a lot of fun, but I think Roxanne was one of the girls he hooked up with. I didn’t blame either of them.

I lost my virginity to Tyler the week before he left for college. The experience was underwhelming, but I was just glad to get it over with. He never understood why I said his name, and looked at me like something was wrong with me. We were in his room while he was packing up and his mom was about to come home in twenty minutes so it wasn’t the most romantic mood, and when he had a cigarette afterward and asked me how it was, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t feel any different.

Paul was one of Tyler’s best friends, and at the end of parties I would always end up talking to him about how heartbroken I would be when Tyler left. The night of Tyler’s graduation party I ended up making out with Paul under the bridge by Peace Park. Tyler found out about it the next day but he didn’t blame me.

Tyler and Paul were in the same graduating class, 2005, and Paul went to NDSU and Tyler went to Michigan. They were my only friends besides Deanna, who was not so into me now that I’d been messing with boys.

I was lovesick for both of them and despite signing up for advanced placement and college in the schools classes, things began to degrade for me. I’d been accepted to NDSU, Bemidji State, Moorhead State, and Saint Cloud, but I’d pretty much made my mind up to go to NDSU since Paul was going there. I’d taken my ACT hungover and gotten a 26 and between that and my 3.7 GPA the state colleges were more than happy with me, even though I wasn’t happy with myself.

When my senior year started my parents were confused when I barely refused to get out of bed on the weekends except when I was working. Paul came home often but Tyler messaged me less and less. My mom started buying me liquor so I could drink alone in my room and wait for Paul’s calls, and I was grateful for that. Paul and I started our relationship unintentionally, and I felt agony every night that he told me he was partying with his college classmates and I was stuck home alone, but the alcohol helped.

Many weekend nights of my senior year I would end up passing out on the floor of my room. I worked at the Subway in town and was assigned the weekend opening shifts, and some days I would get there so late there would be no bread because I’d gotten there too late to proof it.

Sometimes during the weekdays I’d close and Roxanne and her friends would come to my Subway at the end of the night. I would lock the doors and make them subs and let them drink inside, and sometimes they would give me alcohol to mix with the pop. We acted like friends and I liked that. I would give her anything she wanted. I was so lonely.

I moved out of my parents’ house two weeks after I turned 18. My mom was insane and my dad was a coward. The first thing I did was drive to Bemidji to activate my own cell phone. I had to drop out of golf and quit Subway so I could work the night shift at Solvay pharmaceuticals after school, four to midnight. I begged one of Tyler’s friends to let me sleep on the floor of his apartment that five other people lived in. He let me, as long as I’d pay two-hundred dollars a month.

That was when Scott and my teachers decided to have a meeting about me. I was sleeping every morning in class and failing my exams. One morning that spring Scott called me into his office to have a discussion. I was tired and hungover, and I hadn’t showered, brushed my teeth, or hair that day. I was wearing a tee-shirt, basketball shorts, and old sneakers.

“Christine, what’s going on?” Scott asked, sitting in his nice, organized office.

I stared at him, his face askew due to my dizziness. “What do you mean?”

***

        I took a break after writing and took a little walk outside. It’s gray and cold today, around 10 degrees and cloudy. I walked to the end of my driveway, about a mile. On my way back I saw Angel sauntering along the road towards the barn. When I first went outside it looked like the cat had eaten some of the leftovers I’d set out, but I hadn’t seen it since the night Scott was here.

        I paused and it stood before me and we stared at each other. I didn’t say anything. I figured it would run away so I didn’t have any expectations. After a minute or so of neither of us moving, I stepped forward carefully. Angel didn’t move. I was able to get close enough that I could reach out and touch it, so I crouched carefully and extended my hand.

        Angel took a defensive stance and I didn’t move. After a few moments it sniffed my finger briefly. I moved my hand in an attempt to stroke its head and it dashed away towards the barn and disappeared inside. I frowned but figured I had made progress.

        I lit a cigarette and walked towards the barn. It’d been years since I’d ventured inside–it was derelict and hadn’t been used for its actual function since my mom was in high school. I’d play in it sometimes as a child, knocking down swallow nests by spraying water from the garden hose at them, or climbing around on old hay bales. The wood had been old and gray since I could remember and one of the last times I went inside I was so unsettled by the sound of the wind blowing through the cracks in the wood that I ran out thinking it would collapse at any moment.

        Cautiously I stepped inside. I was instantly struck by the smell of acrid meat and it only took a moment to see the source. I shrieked as I saw a corpse on the ground, a ribcage exposed and nearly picked clean, but still with some flesh on it. I quickly calmed down as I realized it was a deer corpse, but I wondered why it was so unceremoniously laying on the ground in the barn.

        I heard commotion from the opposite end of the barn, and saw a white flash emerge from a little straw structure with two sides and a roof that was a pallet with more straw on top. Angel disappeared out of a crack between the wood of one of the walls to run out to the back yard.

        I puffed my cigarette as my heart settled down. I’d had too much coffee and I was too on edge for these surprises, but I was touched that my dad had apparently thought a little bit about this lone cat that lived in the barn to build it a straw shed to keep it warm and leave a deer carcass for food. I wished Angel would come back, but I felt bad for infiltrating its space. I looked around at the light that poured in between the gaps in the planks of wood. There was no wind and without Angel it was dead quiet. I felt uneasy with the corpse of the deer and quickly walked back outside.

        As I stood outside and finished my cigarette I looked around and felt suffocated by the silence of my surroundings. Although I could get in my car and drive, my isolation felt unescapable. I couldn’t go into town without someone recognizing me, and even going to the highway with my car was risky because someone from town could see me, know who I am, and call my dad.

        I went into the house and called Scott. He answered after a few rings.

        “Hello?” he said, his voice nearly inaudible.

I was giddy to hear his voice, to hear some sign of life aside from the sound of my own breathing and Angel’s elusive appearances. “Hello!” I said loudly so he could hear me.

“Ah, Christine! I was wondering when you’d call. I was worried you’d forgotten about me,” he said jovially.

I laughed. “You’re so stupid! How could I forget about you? I was just…doing some chores and I took a walk.” I paused for a moment. It takes a long time for me to write these entries sometimes. Should I tell him about it? I don’t think he would like me writing about him like this, and he isn’t aware of the purpose yet. No. I have to keep it to myself.

“You know, I went into the barn, and I saw my dad made Angel a little shelter! He also left some food out,” I said.

“Oh yeah? That was good of him. I figured he would have thought about it.” He paused for a moment. “Do you wanna see me tonight? I miss you.”

I smiled. “Yes I wanna see you! I’m so lonely already. I don’t think I could have stayed here this whole break if you weren’t here…so, do you wanna come here or should I go there?”

He paused. “Well, I was defrosting some walleye. If you come over we can have a fish fry.”

“That sounds so good! It’s been too long since I’ve been to a fish fry,” I laughed. “What time do you want me?”

He laughed. “I want you right now, but come over whenever you’re ready. You alright walking over or should I come get you?”

“I can walk over. I’m gonna shower quick then I’ll head that way,” I said.

A moment of silence passed. “Wish I could shower with you,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. Showering together had sort of become tradition, even though I didn’t do my full showers with all the steps when he was there. “Do you want me to do it there? It takes a little longer for me like…usually.” I chuckled. “Do you really wanna watch me like…wash my face and shave my legs and all the other stuff?”

“Yes. I love watching everything you do, but it’s up to you,” he said.

I smiled, blushed, and shook my head. “Alright. I’ll get my stuff together and come now then.”

“I’m a lucky man, Christine. I can’t wait to see you.”

I’m gonna pack my bigger bag of stuff and walk over there. I’ll bring this journal again. I think the insomnia excuse has been working, so I should get time to write at the end of the night after he falls asleep.

***

        Once again it’s 2 am and I’m kind of drunk right now. Things have changed a lot and I feel like I've finally made the decision about my future. Scott is asleep and I told him I had insomnia again, and I chose his copy of Lunar Park to keep next to me this time as I’m writing by the stove light finishing a glass of whiskey water. He has highlights and little notes in the margins for this book too. Even as an English major I don’t often have the patience to mark up the books I read recreationally. I love that he does that. I really do think I love him despite everything we talked about tonight. It makes me feel sick.

        Once I arrived with my things we showered together and Scott seemed genuinely interested in the meticulous steps of my hygiene routine, which surprised me given Paul’s annoyance with how long everything takes. Once I’d completed everything and before we got dressed Scott pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “You smell so good and you’re so soft,” he murmured as he ran his hands over my body. “I don’t wanna get you dirty again, but–”

        I sighed. “I don’t care. You’re clean and I’m clean, so nothing to get dirty about. I want you, Scott,” I whispered with a smile.

He offered his arms to me like a cradle and smiled. “I can carry you,” he said.

I shook my head and grimaced. “Oh, no, no. Not up those stairs!”

“You don’t trust me?” he asked with a mock pout.

I wrung my hands, thinking about the narrow wooden stairs with smooth paint on them. I’d felt myself slip on them with my socks on before. “Why do you like carrying me around all the time?” I asked. I started to feel like he liked making me nervous, like it was a game and I didn’t know what the goal was. I thought about just marching up the stairs ahead of him, but I hesitated, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

He grimaced then smiled and shrugged. “I dunno. It’s alright, Christine. I was just being silly. I won’t do it anymore.”

I put my arms around him and lifted one of my legs so he could pick me up. “Well, I trust you. Please don’t kill us,” I said, smiling weakly.

He kissed me and hefted me into his arms. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

He walked us from the bathroom to the stairway and I tucked myself into him, making myself small, as he ascended the steps. He breathed deeply and evenly as each step squeaked beneath his feet. I held my breath the whole time, and once we were at the top I sighed in relief.

He walked into his room and set me down on his bed. “You alright?” he asked.

I was shaking from being so tensed up. “Yeah, I’m fine. You are really strong,” I said as I wiped sweat from my face.

He laid down next to me and stared up at the ceiling. For a few moments we just laid there, naked and not speaking as I let my heart slow down.

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I just have this…thing. The um…exertion does something for me. I dunno.”

I narrowed my eyes and laughed, incredulous. “What does it…do?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid. It’s sort of like…when I suggest something difficult and you’re afraid I can’t do it. I like showing you I can.”

“I think you like scaring me then making me feel better. It’s kinda weird but that’s okay,” I said vacantly. I was disappointed that he possessed the machismo mentality I had disliked in so many boys, and men for that matter, from Lake of the Woods. For a moment I asked myself what I was doing.

He rolled onto his side and looked at me. “I’m sorry, Christine. I didn’t think of it like that but you’re right. I won’t do stuff like that anymore.” He paused and caressed my hair. “I uh…haven’t been feeling very good about myself for the past year. I’m alone almost all the time and I think I’ve been losing touch with how to interact with people.” He looked away from me, over his shoulder at the window that faced the West field. “But mostly women, I mean…you especially. I keep asking myself why you wanna spend time with me. I don’t know what it is about me now that could possibly impress you, but I keep trying. Probably in dumb ways.”

His vulnerability softened me. It wasn’t machismo as much as insecurity, though admitting those thoughts showed bravery. This was what I’d asked him for last night. I ran my hand through his hair and he looked back at me with glossy eyes.

I smiled, trying to lighten things between us. “Well, you’ve been so good to me. Making me food, buying me booze, listening to me. You don’t have to act like…I dunno, some savior or something. This isn’t a Disney princess movie. I’m just here for a little while and I like being around you.”

I pressed my lips to his and he pulled me closer to him. His mouth tasted minty, as he had just brushed his teeth, and his lips were soft. His skin felt smooth and warm. He was passive as I kissed him, unusually tentative, and I thought maybe he wanted to see what I’d do.

I deepened the kiss and shifted my weight so I was partially laying on him, one of my legs over his. My hands were in his still damp hair and I caressed the sides of his face. I broke away from him for a moment and just looked at him as I traced the features of his face with my fingers–his thick, dark eyebrows, the Grecian curve of his nose, his exaggerated cupid’s bow to the side of his lips.

He wasn’t traditionally handsome, not really, but his features individually were so beautiful and all together were so unique that, at that moment, I could have honestly said he was the most attractive man in the world. I felt the ache inside me but it wasn’t just sex I was thinking about; it was a primordial sort of longing for something I’d never allow myself to have. I tried to transpose my face onto his and imagine how our features together could look on a person, and I imagined someone intelligent, resilient, strong.

“What…what’re you thinking about?” he asked softly, his voice wavering, as though he knew I was considering something heavy.

I thought about yesterday when he’d asked me that, and how I’d lied and he knew. “I was just thinking that like…if I was gonna have kids, which I’m not gonna, I’d want them to have your genes. I think they would be smart, strong people,” I said uneasily and paused. “Sorry. I guess sex kinda makes me think about that stuff even if it doesn’t matter.” I laughed nervously.

He smiled his uneven, dimpled smile. “Wow,” he said. “That’s such a…deep compliment, I think?”

My face felt hot. “Sorry if that’s creepy.”

He pressed his lips to mine and kissed me deeply. “No, not creepy, Christine. That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”

I ran my finger over where the waistband of his sweatpants would be and he smiled and shuddered. “Can we?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

I straddled him and eased him inside me. He felt hot and hard, and he sighed and looked up at me weakly, and I didn’t break eye contact. I moved slowly at first as he massaged me with his thumb and held onto my waist with his other hand. I shuddered as the warm electricity made its way through me and I moved faster.

He took a deep breath. “Easy,” he whispered as his eyes rolled back and his eyelashes fluttered.

I slowed down, trembling as I got closer to the brink. It felt like we were in the same state at the same time and that thought brought me even closer. The primal part of my brain wanted us to come at the same time, and for him to come inside me, but I knew it was a perilous time of month to do that, and I’d never had a man finish in me without a condom before. Was this how so many people had kids they didn’t actually want? I’d never felt this deep sense of recklessness with Paul. We normally wore condoms, but a couple of times when we’d run out of them he’d pulled out like Scott and I had been doing.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The sound of his breathing sent me over the edge and I gasped his name and my vision became blurred before I braced myself so I didn’t collapse on him. He shoved me to the side, seemingly more suddenly than he’d intended, and groaned.

I pressed my legs together as the wave continued through me and it took me a few seconds to collect myself and see clearly. I wiped tears from my eyes.

“God, Christine,” Scott whispered. “You don’t know how good that is.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I do,” I said. “I think I almost passed out.”

He caught his breath. “I can’t last with you,” he said and looked at me, shaking his head.

I laughed. “I can’t either,” I said and kissed him.

He grabbed some tissues from the nightstand and cleaned up his stomach.

“I need those for my collection!” I exclaimed as I playfully gestured to grab the soiled tissues.

He laughed and kept them away from me before tossing them in a little trash can next to the bed. “You’re kinda screwed up, you know that?”

I smiled and kissed his cheek. “You like it, though.”

We laid together for a while, my head on his shoulder, and I listened to his breathing. I ran my hand over his chest and I wanted to feel his heartbeat. I moved my hand to his neck so I could feel his pulse.

He laughed. “I’m alive,” he said softly.

My face felt hot. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what my hands do sometimes.”

“It’s alright, Christine. I love you,” he said.

Hearing him say that gave me chills of excitement and fear at once. What were we doing? I supposed it didn’t really matter because I liked it and I didn’t want to stop. I kissed his neck then his ear. “I love you too,” I said. “You’re so easy to be with.”

“So are you,” he said.

“You’re like…a really good lover,” I said. “You know how to do things the other guys I’ve slept with don’t, but I’ve never heard about you having a girlfriend or anything.” I blushed and grimaced, hoping I wasn’t being offensive.

He sighed. “Well, I’m a private person. I’ve had plenty of girlfriends, but it’s more difficult living here. There aren’t many women who are single in this town, let alone ones I get along with.”

I ran one of my hands over his chest. “When’s the last time you had a girlfriend?”

“A couple years ago I was kinda seeing a woman I’d gone to college with, but she lives in Brainerd and the distance made it too difficult and neither of us were in a position to move. Before that, when I was teaching in Warroad I was with someone for almost three years…it didn’t work out.”

I swirled one of the little hairs on his chest around my finger. “What was she like? Why didn’t it work?”

He paused and stroked my hair. “Well…I met her at a career fair that we hosted at the high school. She was representing Digikey, a company out of Thief River Falls. She’s a software engineer there. She had an interest in encouraging girls to get into programming. We chatted for a while and I asked if she wanted to get a drink with me that night. I got her number and we met up often and got along well, but once again the distance made it difficult. I really liked–loved her, but it just didn’t work out. I applied for teaching positions in Thief River and couldn’t get anything, and there was nothing for her to do in Warroad.”

I felt a pang of irrational envy. “I’m sorry. That really sucks. What was her name?” I asked.

“Stephanie Plateau,” he said, and I thought his voice sounded pained.

“That’s a really pretty name,” I said. “What’d she look like?”

He sighed. “She had wavy dark hair and brown eyes. Tan and curvy but athletic. You remind me of her.”

“Is that a good thing?” I asked, trying to imagine how Scott must have seen her at the career fair talking to high school girls.

He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. She was pretty in an understated way. I think she cheated on me towards the end.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Really? With who? How did you find out?”

“I’m not sure, really…but I suspect it was one of her coworkers. They sometimes went to conferences across the country together. They went to one in Chicago and one of the nights she said she was gonna call me after a dinner with some of her colleagues and some vendors. She didn’t talk to me at all until the next afternoon, and things were never the same after that. We didn’t see each other again. She broke up with me over the phone a week later and a month or so after that I saw on her Facebook that she was in a relationship with the guy.” He paused and kissed my forehead. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”

I had the intrusive thought that if I got out of this, decided to go on, I wanted to be like Stephanie Plateau. She sounded smart, self interested, and the man she left Scott for must have been a good catch. For the first time since I’d been back in Lake of the Woods I wish I’d had internet access so I could log onto Facebook and find her.

“I’ve been thinking of switching my major to Computer Science. What if I wanted to talk to her about her job? Since she’s interested in bringing women into the industry?” I smiled a little to myself.

Scott shifted, seemingly uncomfortable. “I dunno about that…I haven’t talked to her in a long time. I dunno. Maybe.”

“She sounds really cool. Aside from the cheating part. No one should ever cheat on you, Scott,” I said and kissed his neck.

We laid in silence for a while and eventually fell asleep. I dreamt about sex with Scott, that he came inside me and I wondered what I’d do if I got pregnant. I woke up, simultaneously relieved and disappointed that it had been just a dream, and it was dark outside. I kissed Scott and he kissed me back a few times until he woke up.

“What time is it?” he asked as his eyelids fluttered open.

I looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “It’s 5:13,” I said.

“I should start on dinner,” he said as he sat up and stretched. “You want something to wear?”

I nodded. “I like wearing your clothes.”

He kissed me. “Can I tell you something kinda creepy?”

I laughed. “Sure.”

He got up and rifled through his closet. “After you left this morning I laid down for a little bit, and the pillow you used last night smelled like your hair. It got me so hard, I couldn’t help it. I got off thinking about you on my desk last night.” He tossed me a tee-shirt and some sweatpants.

I blushed and smiled. “That was really hot. I hope it wasn’t too weird. I was pretty messed up when I wanted you to wear your school clothes.”

He shrugged as he pulled on a pair of boxers. “It’s alright. I get it. I just wanna make you happy.”

I pulled on his sweatpants and tee-shirt. “You do make me happy, Scott. I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

He leaned down and kissed me. “I’m the luckiest man in the world, Christine.” He pulled on a tee-shirt and sweatpants and it almost seemed to me that we were wearing matching uniforms.

We went downstairs and he fried up the walleye with baked beans and coleslaw, a classic combination my dad would often make after his ice fishing trips. Instead of wine we drank whiskey. Scott had his over ice while I had mine with ice water.

“Where did this fish come from?” I asked as we ate.

Scott shrugged. “A guy from Cenex gave it to me. An ex student. I haven’t been out myself in a long time.” He frowned before he took a bite of beans.

“Oh? Do I know him?” I asked casually as I cut up a walleye filet.

“Jacob Murray. He’s a guide at Northland Resort now and works at Cenex part time.”

I smirked and took a bite of the fish. “Ah. Yeah I remember him. I used to have the biggest crush on him. Do you remember when…” I trailed off, thinking about the cookie altercation with Roxanne. I wasn’t sure how to approach our mutual memories with her yet.

Scott smiled ruefully. “Yeah, the note supposedly from him that Roxanne left in your locker. I’ve thought about that a lot and I don’t think I handled it as well as I could have.”

I paused from eating and took a long drink of my whiskey water. “Yeah? How so?”

He pushed his coleslaw around his plate. “Well, I think I shouldn’t have solely punished you. It’s just that she was younger and…” he trailed off and shook his head. “You just seemed like the one who should have known better. But I think I could have given her detention or something. I dunno.”

I squeezed his shoulder. “It’s alright. I should have known better. I had anger issues when I was in highschool, mostly because of my mom.” I took a bite of beans. “You know, Roxanne and I were on good terms the year before I graduated. We even kissed at a party,” I said and shook my head. “She was the first girl I kissed.”

Scott was quiet and continued pushing the coleslaw around. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear more or if I should stop talking about her. I decided to continue as though it was a normal conversation remembering a former classmate. “Yeah, she would come to parties at the house I was staying at my senior year. We did ecstasy one night and talked about our creepy bus driver, Lance. He was always really gross to us, but mostly her. I don’t think I was his type–”

“Christine, please,” Scott said and set his fork down. He took a drink of whiskey.

I shrugged, feeling a bit reckless from the whiskey. “What? I was just talking. I knew her way longer than you did.”

He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I know.”

“We can talk about her,” I said softly. “I’m not judging anything and I miss her a lot. I wish I'd been better to her.”

He took in a deep breath. “I wish I’d been better to her too.” He wiped his eyes with his hand. “I’m sorry, Christine.”

I stood, hugged him, and kissed his forehead. “You don’t have to be sorry, Scott. I think…I feel…you probably made her feel a lot better and less alone. This is a very lonely place to grow up.”

He put his arms around me and leaned his head into my chest. “You both deserved so much better.”

I stroked his hair. “You made it better, at least for me. I’m sure you did for her too. I knew some of the guys from Warroad she was messing with, and they really were no good. Luckily I was with Paul so I didn’t get sucked into that, but they were real assholes. I’m sure you were–”

“Christine,” he said and looked at me. “I know what you’re saying, but please stop. You don’t know what happened.”

I sighed, trying not to feel distressed. “Will you ever tell me? I’m the last person who’d ever judge you.” I paused and took a long drink. “You know, even if the stuff Annie said was true, I wouldn’t feel any different about you, because I wish it could have happened for me, like when I was still in school. Maybe if I’d have had then what I’ve had in the past few days I’d have wasted a lot less time with someone like Paul.”

Scott broke from me and put his head in his hands. “God, Christine. Listen to yourself.”

I took another long drink, feeling a bit indignant. “Well, it’s true. I’m not trying to ignore things. That’s the way it was, the way it is.”

He faced me and put his hands on my shoulders. “It wouldn’t have been like this if you were still in school, alright? It’s all different now. Don’t think about it like that. As far as Roxanne, it sounds like you already know, so what else do I have to say?”

I felt suddenly crushed. I’d suspected that the allegations were true, but hearing him confirm them made me feel sick, despite how I’d been trying to comfort him and justify it in my head.

“So…so…you did?” I asked weakly and backed away from him.

He appealed to me with his eyes. “I made a mistake, alright? I hate myself for it.”

I didn’t know what to say. I drained the glass of whiskey water and gestured for Scott to refill it for me. His eyes were wide but he nodded and went to the kitchen to refill my drink and I retook my place on my stool.

Just then I felt the decision had been made for me. The finality was there all at once. The weak thread that had been connecting me with the will to live snapped. I felt like every man I’d ever met was probably like this. My dad’s initial interest in my mom started when he was 26 and she was 16. Paul had ended our relationship for good because of a girl still in high school. I was only 20 years old and already being passed over for teenagers.

Why was I so surprised though? Wasn’t this what I was expecting? Perhaps some small part of me had been holding out hope that he’d been falsely accused and there was some misunderstanding after all. I stared at my hands and I felt distant, separated from my body. Scott set the glass of whiskey water before me.

“Christine?” His voice broke through my devastation and brought me back to myself.

I shook my head. “Yeah. Yeah, no. It’s okay. It’s fine. I expected this.” I took a long drink from my glass, my hand shaking.

He sat down on his stool and sipped his drink. “Jesus, you told me you’d understand. I’m so sorry.”

I stared ahead of me, focusing on the towel draped on the stove handle. It was checkered navy blue and white. For some reason it made me feel sad, imagining his mom wiping off the counter with it, unknowing that her son would turn out this way. “How…like…what happened?” I asked, already revolted but I wanted to know the details. I took another long drink.

He shook his head and sipped his drink. “It’s probably not like you’re imagining.”

I blinked and tears rolled over my face. I wiped them away with the palms of my hands. “I wanna know,” I whispered as I unabashedly continued to wipe my eyes. I was getting drunk from how quickly I’d been drinking the whiskey but I wanted to annihilate myself so I took a long drink.

“Christine…” he tried to touch my shoulder but I scooted away from him.

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped. “I wanna have a cigarette while you tell me.”

He sighed and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Alright. Yeah. A cigarette sounds good and I’ll tell you.”

We got dressed and stepped outside. The night was still but it was bitterly cold, the temperature plunging from the day before to just below zero. I felt the tears on my eyelashes and snot in my nose freeze, but I lit cigarettes for Scott and I and took a long drag.

Scott inhaled from his cigarette and coughed. “God, sorry. I’m nervous.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please just tell me already. It’s not like I’m gonna go to the authorities or anything. I just wanna know for myself.”

He shivered and hugged himself. “Ah, where to start…well, she hadn’t been doing very well for a while. Missing school, failing classes. We talked about it a lot and I tried to help her…but Larry and Annie weren’t very cooperative with some of the plans we’d tried to make for Roxanne to get additional help before or after school. She hadn’t gotten her license yet and she couldn’t get consistent rides to school outside of the bus.”

I took a long drag from my cigarette. “Was Lance still driving her bus?” I asked weakly.

Scott shook his head. “We fired him after you graduated. Because of things Roxanne told me.” He puffed on his cigarette. “I told her since I lived out here that if she really needed a ride she could call me, so I gave her my cell number.” He paused. “It was meant to be for emergency situations only.”

I wiped a frosty tear from my face. “Yeah? So what, she called you for a sex emergency one day?”

Scott scoffed. “Christ, Christine. No, it wasn’t like that. She called me one night from a party she was at in Warroad saying she couldn’t find another ride home. I decided to help her out. She seemed scared.”

I narrowed my eyes and stared into the dark field in front of us. “So like…you drove from here all the way to Warroad to get her or what? Your cell phone doesn’t even work out here, does it?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to another and shivered. “No, it doesn’t. She looked up my landline number and yes, I drove to Warroad. I was worried and she said her parents weren’t answering.”  He puffed his cigarette.

I was getting a bit annoyed at his halting description of what had happened. “Okay, then what? You went to get her and then?”

“She gave me the address to a house in town. I didn’t know the people who lived there, but it looked like there were lots of kids. I’m not sure where the adults were or if they were just partying with them. I texted her when I got there and I parked a couple blocks away. It didn’t seem like a good idea to have anyone recognize my car…I know how bad that sounds now.” He paused and went to take a drag from his cigarette but the ember had gone out. I lit it again for him and gestured for him to continue.

“She got into the passenger’s seat and she didn’t seem like she was very drunk or on drugs. She said she’d had a couple beers, and that the guy who said he’d give her a ride home passed out and some of the others there were scaring her. We didn’t talk very much except for some small talk here and there. When we got close to her parent’s driveway she started crying and told me she was scared because her parents had been fighting earlier and they weren’t expecting her home. She’d told them she was staying over at a friend’s and would be back the next day after school.” He paused and took a long drag from his cigarette.

“You brought her here, didn’t you?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do at the moment. I didn’t mean to, but she made it sound like it could be dangerous for her to go home.”

I frowned and puffed my cigarette. “Isn’t that what like…CPS is for?”

He shook his head and sighed. “They’d already visited her house earlier in the year and didn’t see any immediate problems. They aren’t miracle workers, Christine, especially if she lied to them, which I suspect she did.”

I took the last drag of my cigarette and tossed it on the ground. “Let’s go in. I’m cold.”

We went inside and took off our jackets and hats. I looked around the room. “So where’d you guys do it? Was it like…impulsive and on the couch? Or did you guys go to your room? Or maybe your desk?” I was feeling vindictive. Was I just disgusted with him, or was I envious of Roxanne? Maybe both? At that moment it was hard to tell.

Scott sat down at the counter and took a long drink. “I don’t owe you details like that if you’re gonna talk to me that way. Does it even matter? Is it gonna change how you see me? You can leave anytime you want, you know. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”

I sighed and sat next to him and took a sip of my drink. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna go unless you want me to. It’s just like…I dunno…can’t you understand why it matters to me? Like how it happened?”

He drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Do you think I forced her into doing something she didn’t wanna do?”

I shrugged. “No, but like…minors can’t consent, Scott. Didn’t they teach you that in teacher school?”

He pursed his lips and straightened his fingers over the countertop. “Alright then. If that's the way you’re looking at it, why does it matter how it happened?” he asked, his voice tense.

I looked at him and shrugged. “I guess I just wanna know who started it.”

He scoffed and rattled the ice in his drink before taking a sip. “It was really similar to how it started with us the other day, if you must know.”

I nodded and sighed. “So she made the first move?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I was too weak to do the right thing. I’m not blaming her at all. I should have been better. I just…didn’t wanna disappoint her when it felt like so many people in her life always let her down. I know…I knew right away afterwards, that I’d let her down too, in the worst way.” He wiped his eyes and took another drink.

I tapped my foot on the floor and found myself tearing up too. “So like…what’d you do next? What was in the messages Annie found?” I sniffed and wiped my nose with my hand.

Scott got up and got a box of tissues from an end table in the living room and set it between us. “Well, the next morning I took her to school. I dropped her off a block away…I know how it sounds, Christine. Things continued as normal for a week or so. That was just before…” he trailed off and drained his whiskey before taking both our glasses and refilling them.

“Thanks,” I said and took a sip of my fresh drink. “So, that was just before she…”

He nodded. “Yeah. Um…this is the part I really struggle with, and you’re the first person I’ve been able to really talk about this with, so bear with me.” His voice wavered and he took a tissue from the box and dabbed his eyes.

I took a tissue and wiped off my eyes as well. “What happened?” I asked weakly.

He took a deep breath. “Well, she messaged me again one night. It was a similar situation. She was at a party in Warroad, with the same guy as before, and she told me he’d gotten way too drunk again and she wanted to leave. This time I told her I couldn’t help her. I didn’t want anything to happen again…I felt like maybe she was trying to force a repeat of the week before. She referenced the situation in one of the messages to me, and that’s what Annie saw. I just told her I couldn’t help her, and that’s when she ended up taking the guy’s car when she’d been drinking. She attempted to drive herself home and that’s when the accident happened.”  

My mouth hung open as I digested his words. “So like…you talked to her the night she passed?” I blinked and tears fell heavily on the counter. I pressed my eyes into the tissue.

“Yeah. I think I was the last person she talked to.”

I sobbed and grabbed more tissues from the box. “Jesus Christ, Scott. That’s fucking awful.”

“Yeah. That’s what I’ve been living with for the past year. I should have…I dunno. I should have brought her home. I shouldn’t have let things escalate the first time. Everyday I wish I could go back.”

I balled up my tissues and looked at him. His face was in his hands. “I dunno what to say,” I said. Part of me wanted to slap him for being so stupid and part of me wanted to hold him and tell him it wasn’t his fault.

He shrugged. “You don’t have to say anything, Christine. I’m so sorry.”

I stared at my shaking hands. I didn’t know what to do. How could we come back from this? I felt helpless and hopeless, and more resolved than ever that it was about time to end things. I felt so uncomfortable with this world, all the people I cared about. Everyone I knew was so deeply screwed up, especially me, and even if I could isolate myself from everyone else I could never get away from myself. I felt itchy in a way I could never scratch.

“Ever since I heard about what happened I’ve been wishing I could be in her place,” I heard myself say.

“Please don’t say that,” Scott said weakly.

I scoffed and shook my head. “Whether I say it or not, I’m thinking it.” Both of us were silent for a long time. I looked at our abandoned food. “I’m sorry I didn’t eat more.”

Scott blinked quickly. “Um, no it’s alright. Do you want me to warm up your plate?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, that’s alright. I’m not hungry. Thank you, though. What I had was really good. Should we clean up?”

He stood and took our plates into the kitchen and I followed him. Without speaking we cleaned up and put the leftover food in the fridge as we normally did after every meal.

Once we were done we took our drinks into the living room and sat on the couch. We both stared in front of us and sipped our drinks. I felt dizzy from drinking so much and barely touching my food.

“So…do you still love me?” Scott asked, breaking the silence.

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the coffee table in front of us. “Um…I don’t know if I love anything,” I said vacantly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What do you wanna do now?”  

I thought about the question for a while. What did I want? I took a long sip from my drink and set it on the coffee table before facing him. I took his face in my hand and pressed my lips to his. He hesitated before kissing me back, tentative.

“Christine…” he whispered.

“I just…I don’t wanna think right now. Can you fuck me?” I asked softly as I planted kisses on his neck and the side of his face.

His breathing wavered. “Uh, yeah. I can try if that’s what you want.”

We just kissed for a long time and I ran my hands all over his body. I felt between his legs and he was hard. I stood and pulled his shirt over my head and kicked off my sweatpants. He looked at me as though he’d just woke up from a dream and followed suit, tossing his clothes in the little pile where mine were.

He sat down on the couch and I straddled him, kissing him deeply. I guided him inside me, and I was surprisingly wet. I wondered if sadness and stress turned me on or I was just ovulating.

He sighed and looked up at me, and I thought he looked like he was in pain. “Is this alright?” I asked.

He nodded quickly. I gripped the back of the couch as I moved slowly, pushing him deep into me. “You feel so good,” I whispered, my voice wavering.

“You have no idea,” he murmured as he stared up at me, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly ajar.

I kissed him and he deepened it. I hurried my pace but between the warm electricity and alcohol running through me, I lost coordination. Scott readjusted us and held my waist with his hands as he took control. I pressed my lips to his but I was at the brink and couldn’t focus so he kissed me while my mouth was stupidly agape.

“I love you,” he panted between kisses, and I felt the world contract and expand around me and for a few seconds I was blind as I gasped his name.

He stopped and held me close to him as I trembled and caught my breath. “You alright?” he asked.

I wiped tears from my eyes. “I think I died,” I whispered.

He smiled a little and I felt his fingers on my neck, taking my pulse. “You feel alive to me,” he said.

“That’s too bad,” I said and began moving again.

“Easy,” he whispered and his eyes rolled up and he blinked quickly.

I slowed down for a few moments, but I really wanted him to come so I gradually sped up. It wasn’t long before he pushed me to the side and groaned. I kissed the side of his face and his lips as he caught his breath. “I still love you,” I whispered and kissed the tears from under his eyes.

After a few moments of collecting ourselves I got up and got a couple tissues from the box he’d set on the counter and handed them to him to clean himself up.

“Thank you,” he said. “Do you…still wanna stay over?” he asked.

I laughed and nodded as I pulled on a pair of his sweatpants and pulled on one of his tee-shirts. I knelt on the floor and kissed him again. “Wanna go again in a little bit?”

He smiled. “I’m all yours, as many times as you want me.”

We went up to his room and had sex a few more times through the night as we sobered up. After taking a shower together he fell asleep and I came down here to write this entry and have one more drink before I try to go to sleep.

I’m really tired and I don’t know what I wanna do. I think I’ve made my decision to end things, and I think he sort of understands that I’m thinking about it, but I don’t think he knows that I really mean it. Should I tell him? Should I cut things off now so I can do it in peace like I’d originally planned? I don’t know yet. I need rest. It’s very late. I’m gonna go lay down with him now.