Business as Usual (Off The Subject) (2 page)

“Not mine.” He shakes his head with a bitter laugh, picking at a loose tear in the leather on his steering wheel. “Not. Mine.”

I realize that Brandon will forever blame himself for this moment. His psyche might not ever recover from the stupid girl who freaked out when he fucked her. While the ultimate trigger for tonight’s debacle lies at
his
feet, it’s my responsibility to fix this mess I’ve made. Still, I’m not sure how. A tear falls down my cheek.

“Am I that revolting, Lexi?” Pain fills his words.

I shake my head, clamping down the anguish rising up inside. “No, Brandon. I swear to God—it’s not you. It’s me.” I swallow and grab the end of the belt of my wool coat, twisting it in my hand. “I’m just broken.”

“I don’t understand. Please help me understand,” he pleads.

How can I explain what I don’t really understand myself? I turn toward at him, surprised I have the courage to look him in the eye. “Brandon, I really, really like you. In fact, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

His eyes widen slightly.

“But I’m a mess. It’s pretty apparent that I have issues. Bigger issues than you should be stuck dealing with.”

He reaches for my hand and squeezes. “Lexi, I’m not the kind of guy to take off when there’s the first sign of trouble.”

“I know, and that’s why this is even harder.” I pause and take a breath. “I can’t give you what you need. I’m not sure I can ever give anyone…that.” I close my eyes as new tears fall. “I wish I could, but I’m just too…”

“Broken,” he finishes, sounding devastated.

“Yeah,” I whisper, dropping my gaze.

He gently tilts my chin up, and when I look into his eyes, they are determined. “I’m not breaking up with you over this.”

“I know.” I offer him a sad smile. “That’s why I’m breaking up with you.”

His mouth drops open.

Tears stream down my face. “That’s why I’m letting you go.” I open the car door and the cold air blasts my face. I suck in a breath of surprise and hurry across the parking lot, my heels clicking on the asphalt.

Brandon catches up to me in seconds, grabbing my elbow and trying to pull me to a halt. But I twist my arm out of his grasp and continue walking. I need to get away from him before I change my mind. I’m smart enough to know that Brandon McKenzie is probably as good as it gets. I’ll never find anyone more patient, understanding, or attentive than him. I reach into my purse and pull out my keys, ready to punch in the security code to enter the building.

But Brandon grabs both of my elbows and turns me toward him. “Lexi,
please
. Don’t do this. We can work through it.”

I look up into his kind brown eyes and I want to tell him everything. I want him to know that I haven’t always been this way. Contrary to what my brother Reed believes, I wasn’t a virgin when I graduated from high school. I’ve had sex before last spring without incident. But to tell Brandon what changed everything, to tell him about that night, would mean reliving the horror of it. Worse, I would be forced to see the horror and pity in his eyes, just as I do whenever Reed and Caroline look at me. I’m tired of being
Poor Lexi
. Still, if anyone will understand and help me, it’s Brandon. He could and would help me through this.

My lips part and the words are on the tip of my tongue:

I was raped
.

But I can’t do it. I’ve never spoken the words out loud, as preposterous as that seems. In my head and my heart, I know I didn’t do anything wrong and that it wasn’t my fault. It doesn’t matter. I’m carrying this life sentence around anyway. As I look into Brandon’s sweet eyes, which have become so dear to me, I realize again how unfair it would be to include him in my personal hell. He deserves better.

“Have a good life, Brandon.” I turn and punch the code then open the door, slipping through the opening as soon as it’s wide enough, leaving him stunned and silent on the sidewalk.

The door closes and he comes to his senses, banging on the glass door while I stand in front of the elevator, waiting for the doors to slide open.

“Lexi!” My name is muffled by the glass. His fist beats on it and I worry he’ll break the glass and hurt himself.

Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to look at him, grateful when the elevator doors slide open. I rush inside the empty car and spin around, pressing my back against the cool metal. And as the doors close, I feel as though my fate is sealed with them.

I will forever be alone.

Two months later

Lexi

“Ten minutes, Lexi,” the stage manager calls out. My stomach jitters with nerves even though this is only a dress rehearsal for a play with a two-night run. But I have to admit part of my anxiety has to do with the image in the mirror that looks nothing like me.

“Lexi. You look so…”

“Slutty?” My naturally blonde hair is covered by a jet-black wig and Caroline has applied enough makeup on my face to make me look like a streetwalker. I’m wearing a silver sequined shell with a black leather skirt and silver strappy heels.

Caroline snorts. “I was going for
not like yourself
, which Reed will probably find comforting in this situation.”

She has a point. If you look up the definition of overprotective big brother, you’ll find a picture of Reed. “Tell me again why I’m wearing a wig instead of just fixing up my normal hair.

She looks at my hair piece and adjusts it slightly. “Because it’s fun. You’ve been moping since your break up with Brandon. Maybe this will help shake things up a bit.”

I bite the inside of my lower lip to keep from confessing what really happened with Brandon. Caroline would never understand. As far as she knows, he got back with his ex-girlfriend from high school, who decided being a lesbian wasn’t for her after a brief affair with a girl from her chemistry class. It’s entirely true, except it happened
after
I broke up with him…

Nevertheless, she’s right. I’ve been miserable about it for two months, throwing myself into school and my work with the Middle Tennessee Children’s Charity, which is headquartered here in Hillsdale. The charity is why I’m here tonight, backstage at the community theatre. There’s a mutually beneficial partnership between my university, the charity, and the local community, and I’m the student liaison this semester. I helped set up this fundraiser—the production of a comedic play, with students and locals filling all the parts in the cast and crew. Caroline is a senior fashion design major, so she’s helping with the costumes.

While my friends are already aware of my proposed expansion of the charity’s summer camp program to include middle-school children, I haven’t told anyone about my plans to transform it from a glorified babysitting service into something special. The university has given me an independent study course for my work with the charity and I’ve used my time to model a program that will not only engage and challenge the middle-school kids, but possibly change their futures.

I’m not looking forward to my small acting role in the play, but when I look in the mirror, I like what I see. Caroline is forever saying that clothes can change how you feel about yourself. Turns out a wig can do the same thing. I love the way I look, but I’m worried it’ll be too much for my brother to take. “Which one of us is going to prepare Reed for my costume?”

Her lips twist as she tries to hide her conspiratorial grin. “Maybe it should be a surprise.”

I tilt my head to the side. Caroline has even covered my dirty blonde eyebrows with black mascara. I don’t look anything like a natural blonde. “Good idea. He might not even realize it’s me.”

She shakes her head with a laugh. “Trust me, he’ll figure it out. I suppose I should warn him or he’s liable to rush the stage when you walk out and throw his coat over you.”

“The sad thing is, I wouldn’t be at all shocked if he did.” There’s a hint of bitterness in my voice.

Caroline, who was packing up her makeup, pauses and meets my eyes in the mirror. “You know he loves you, Lexi.”

Guilt pricks at me. I’ve never, ever doubted Reed’s love for me. If not for his sacrifice, I would be stuck in Boston taking a year off to regroup from the “incident,” as my parents call it. When I called Reed in tears, telling him about their plan for me, he was quiet for a long moment, so long I thought we had been disconnected. Then he asked in a soft voice, “What do
you
want to do, Lexi?”

“I want to go back to school—” my voice broke “—I need to go back to school.”

“You will. I promise. I’ll fix this.”

He stormed into the house an hour later and got into a historic shouting match with our parents. He told them they needed to put what was good for their daughter before their worries about themselves. Reed’s a stubborn guy and he refused to back down, even when our father threatened to disown him. Hours later, my brother found me in my room, where I’d retreated from all the hysterics. He sat on the edge of my bed and told that me he’d worked it all out with them. That I’d go back to school in the fall and live with him in an apartment. Then he kissed my forehead and made me promise to call if I needed anything in the meantime.

“I’m here for you, Lexi,” he’d said. “I won’t let anything else happen to you.”

I didn’t discover the extent of Reed’s sacrifice until days later. He’d been accepted to Stanford University to do his Ph.D. under his idol Dr. Donald Knuth—his lifelong dream—and he gave it up for me. When I protested, he refused to listen. So instead of embarking on a sterling career, he became a grad student at Southern University, where he teaches beginning algebra and runs the math lab. When we moved, our parents made us use our maternal great-grandmother’s maiden name—Pendergraft—to avoid any family embarrassment, which means Reed also lost much of the reputation and credibility he had accumulated over his academic career. Yet he has never once acted hurt or angry over the choices he made for me.

It’s a debt I can never repay.

Caroline kisses my cheek. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”

I smile at her, grateful she’s in our lives. Caroline may be Reed’s fiancée, but she’s also a dear friend. I wouldn’t love her any more if she were my own sister. She loves me too, which is why she always intervenes on my behalf. “I’m sorry, Caroline,” I say. “I put you in this awkward situation. I know you and Reed fight over me.”

She laughs. “Did I tell you that our first fight was over you?”

Reed and Caroline first met at a party, and sparks flew the second they laid eyes on each other. Only Caroline was intent on getting a date with another guy that night. “I thought your first fight was over Dylan Humphrey.”

She smirks. “I mean our first fight as an actual couple. If you don’t count Reed blowing his gasket over me walking across the campus by myself after midnight.” She sobers a bit. “But after I found out why…” I sigh as worry wrinkles her brow. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned—”

“Lexi, we’re ready for you,” the stage manager says. “We’re about to start the party scene.”

I hop out of my chair and pull Caroline into a hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s the elephant in the room we all ignore.” I drop my arms and give her a sad smile. “But one of these days it’s going to sit on me if we keep doing that.”

I hear my cue and go onstage, staying to the background until it’s time for me to say my single line. We’re supposed to be at a party, so I pretend to talk to Sylvia, my friend and fellow business major, whom I roped into participating in my work with the charity. My role is simple. I’m supposed to be a vivacious, life-of-the-party girl, so my movements are all exaggerated. Rob, one of the Hillsdale actors, walks onstage with another girl and I spin toward him and deliver my one line.

“Why did I ever let him go?”

It’s not a difficult line to remember. I ask myself that question about Brandon almost every day. Sometimes I see him walking across campus hand-in-hand with his old girlfriend and my heart fills with a crushing ache. Of course, it’s not necessarily Brandon who makes me feel that way. It’s the wish to be normal—to have a boyfriend and a chance at a family someday. I fear that that most simple of wishes has been stolen from me.

We finish the scene and I walk off with Sylvia. Caroline is right where I left her, her sketchbook open. She looks up and grins. “You were great.”

“I was passable. But that’s okay. It’s for a good cause and it was nice of them to include me.”

She shakes her head and grins. “Give yourself more credit. That wig makes you sassy.” She winks. “I like it.”

She spins her sketchpad around. “I’ve come up with designs for T-shirts for the summer program. See what you think.”

She’s drawn a shirt with the charity’s logo for the girls and a toned-down version for the boys. “I know it would make things easier if they were unisex shirts, but I think the girls will be more inclined to wear them if they’re different.”

“Oh, Caroline! I love them!”

Sylvia wanders over. “Let me see.” She leans over and voices her approval. “You are definitely lucky to have this woman on your team.”

I release a nervous sigh. “Now, if we can just make enough money to fund the expansion of the program.”

“That was our best rehearsal yet,” Sylvia says as she hops onto the table in front of us and swings her legs, complete with her four-inch heels. “Maybe the play won’t suck.”

“Well, that’s good to know since our pre-show ticket sales are much higher than expected.” I have to admit the play wasn’t coming together very well last week. “We’re on track to fund almost a third of what I’m planning for the kids this summer.”

Her eyes widen. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“Well…we threw this together pretty fast.”

Sylvia shakes her head. “Girl, no one can say no to you. You’re like a force of nature. Once you have your sights on something, you make it happen.”

Caroline spins her notebook around and laughs. “Don’t I know it.”

My mouth parts. “Why would you say that?”

Sylvia shakes her head in disbelief. “How about the way you got the Monroe Foundation to help sponsor the Southern Fall Fashion Show just so you could get Reed and Caroline to work together?” She tilts her head toward my future sister-in-law, whose mouth tips up in a smirk. “All that effort just to get them to see how perfect they were for each other.”