Coercion (27 page)

Michael glanced at her to see her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut and her breasts heaving with every gasping breath she took. She looked so at home, naked in the middle of his unmade bed, her hair spread across the pillow while he strived to make her come.

She reached down to tug him toward her again. “Now,” she commanded breathlessly.

He dove for the top drawer of his nightstand and fumbled for a condom amid a mess of quarters, rolling papers and dog-eared back issues of
Rolling Stone
. He found one and quickly rolled it on his cock while Valerie watched him, her eyes glittering with anticipation.

He moved over her, aching for entrance. “Are sure about this?”

Valerie stroked his face. “Absolutely.”

Michael could tell from the defiant look in her eyes she didn’t need or want him to say anything more. She urged him on by clasping her ankles around his waist and pressing her heels into the small of his back. His eyes closed as he pushed aside the circumstances bringing them to this point and slid inside her.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a moan at the moment of entry. One of her hands twisted in his hair and the other gripped the sheets, her fingers making star-shaped wrinkles in them. “You feel so good.”

He braced his forearms on either side of her head as he thrust inside her. Valerie pulled him closer to her so their bodies were crushed together, and moaned throaty, half-intelligible words of encouragement in his ear as he continued to rock against her, the base of his cock pressing against her clit.

Michael looked at her just as her eyes opened, and they stared at each other for a moment. His mouth opened slightly, wanting to say something but unable to find the words to say it.

She closed her eyes again, severing the connection, and her legs tightened around his waist. “I’m gonna come.”

In response, he bowed his head and pressed his lips against her neck, tasting the salt on her skin as his fingers dipped between their bodies to circle her clit. He slid his cock into her only a few more times before her fingernails bit into his shoulders and she let out a soft, strangled cry as she contracted around him. He followed just moments afterward in a few quick strokes.

They lay there in bed, waiting until their breathing returned to normal. Then Valerie smiled at him bashfully and nudged his ass with her heels. “You’re starting to crush me.”

“Sorry.” Michael rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his hand to look at her. After a few moments of just watching her, he said, “I never noticed you had a mole here.” He touched her eyebrow, where a little brown spot peeped from beneath the short hairs.

She nodded. “But it’s not a mole, it’s a freckle.”

“No way. It’s a mole.”

“It’s a freckle. I probably got it from the sun.”

“Oh, really?” He reached between her legs. “Then what were you doing in the sun to get the ‘freckle’ down here?”

“I don’t have a freckle there!” Her cheeks turned pink. “Do I?”

“Mmm-hmm. I noticed it today when I was going down on you.”

“Oh no!” She bit her lip. “Is it gross?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. Nothing about you is gross.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He hit her in the face with a pillow, causing her to giggle. “And don’t let any guy ever tell you different, because they’d be lying.”

She turned on her side and supported her head in her hand, mirroring Michael. “How do I know what you’re saying now isn’t a lie?”

“Haven’t I always been upfront with you?”

“Yeah. I guess you have.”

They were silent for a few minutes, facing toward each other but staring holes to the earth’s core right through the mattress.

Eventually, Valerie pushed herself off the bed and stood. “I should get going.” She stepped her long legs back into her panties. “My grandparents are coming in from Iowa tonight for the graduation tomorrow, and I need to help my mom clean the house. She wants it to be spotless.”

Michael sat up and watched her finish dressing. “Are they going to meet your new boyfriend Daniel Travolta?”

She laughed. “It’s Daniel
Travato
. You’re thinking of John Travolta.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “What I’m thinking of is a loser, that’s all I know.”

Valerie rolled her eyes and stepped into her platform shoes. “And we’re not boyfriend-girlfriend. We’re just friends who occasionally date.”

“Have you fucked yet?”

“Why do you always ask that? Jealous?” She lifted her hair out of the collar of her shirt and shook it loose around her shoulders.

“Why? Does that make you happy?”

Valerie gave him a small smile and another silence fell between them. She buried her hands in her pockets. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Oh.” Michael straightened, but he didn’t move. He opened his mouth, though nothing came out.

She turned to leave and hesitated. “I know it’s stupid, but I really wish something more could’ve developed between us. Now I see it’d be impossible. There’s nowhere to go from where we started.”

“I know.” He rubbed his suddenly throbbing forehead. “I’m sorry, Valerie.” His voice sounded like it had been sandpapered, and his lower lip trembled. Her name seemed foreign on his tongue, and he realized that was because he’d never said it, a fact only intensifying his guilt. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I never actually wanted any of this to happen. I don’t know what I wanted, really.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Well, I hope someday you figure it out.”

He swallowed hard. “Me too.”

Then she was gone, and watching the door close behind her was the most final event Michael had ever experienced.

He lay in bed a few moments afterward, feeling so tormented he couldn’t even move. He’d never been sure of what Valerie had meant to him, and the not knowing made his entire chest feel like lead. He felt somehow he had missed a critical piece of information, an opportunity, a way out.

Michael’s head was spinning when he finally sat up, and the panicked feeling came rushing back into his whole body in waves of pins and needles as he shuffled into the bathroom and stepped into the tub. He twisted the metal knob to the right and stood beneath the hot sting of the shower’s spray. His body throbbed with the sudden need to get out, do something, escape. He wondered if this was how his mother had felt right before she’d left, and was shocked that, for the first time, he felt sympathy for her instead of anger.

He stepped from the shower when the water finally turned cold and returned to his room, where he dressed slowly, options and ideas churning in his mind. He stood in front of his mirror for a moment and looked at his reflection like it was the last time he’d ever see himself. Then he slid his hands deep into the pocket of his coat and wrapped his fingers around the tattered, curled papers that were crushed and covered in bits of tobacco at the bottom. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. He almost didn’t recognize himself, and thought maybe that was a good thing.

When Michael went downstairs, his father was standing in the kitchen, clanking a spoon against the inside of his coffee mug as he stared out the window at nothing. Michael cleared his throat. “Dad?”

His father turned to him, startled. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you could give me a ride.”

“Something wrong with the truck?”

Michael shook his head. “I just...” He slid his trembling hands inside his jeans’ pockets. “I need you.”

His father set the coffee cup on the counter and picked up his car keys. “Let’s go.”

Saturday

May 10, 1975

The sunshine and warm weather that had lingered all week disappeared on Saturday, surprising everyone, including Channel 3’s weather team. Cold, pale light squeezed its way through the dark clouds as the rain fell steadily on Kenton College’s graduating class of 1975, standing on the school’s wet baseball field in damp black robes and flat, four-cornered hats. Onlookers sat on the cold metal bleachers, holding umbrellas and their graduation programs over their heads to protect their wilting hairstyles.

Frank Elvin, the dean, attempted to hand out the diplomas as fast as he could. “Richard Mariott,” he said into the microphone, barely waiting for the crowd to edge in a round of applause before he moved on to the next name. “Patricia McCrew, Dean Miller, Valerie Mercer...”

The list of graduates continued, but Michael took a moment to clap from his covert spot beneath a dripping maple tree on the hill. No one was around to hear him applaud, but he did anyway as fat raindrops left dark, temporary marks on his suede jacket. He wasn’t close enough to see Valerie’s face, but he knew she looked beautiful and, even from so far away, he could tell she was smiling. She gracefully made her way to the temporary stage, shook hands with the dean and resumed her seat on one of the many metal folding chairs set up for the graduating class.

Michael kept his eyes on her as the rest of the names were called and the students stood, turned their tassels to the right side and flung their wet hats in the air. The graduates then scattered across the field, eager to get out of the rain and find their families and friends. He lost sight of her in the frenzy.

“Baby!” Breeze ran up the hill to join him, emerging from what looked like the clouds’ wet beaded curtain. Her damp blond hair still managed to bounce around her shoulders as she joined him under the tree and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I did it! I’m done! Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Sure am.” He brushed his lips against hers.

She grinned. “Good. Because now I feel like celebrating.” She slid her hands in the back pockets of his jeans and pulled him closer, crushing his body against hers. He could feel the graceful, subtle curve of her small breasts beneath her robe. “With this—” She gave his ass a squeeze. “—and a keg.”

“No surprise there.”

Breeze giggled. “Have I told you yet you’re the best for coming to my graduation and cheering me on in the rain?”

“No.” Michael pressed his lips to her forehead. “Have I told you yet you owe me now?”

“Hey, I suffered too.” She swept her hair out of her face. “What a horrible day. Ruined by rain and speeches.” She smiled. “But Rooney’s idea was pretty fun. Did he tell you? Last night, he bought an old toilet for ten bucks, smashed it and gave everyone a piece of it to give to ol’ Elvin. The last guy to get his diploma handed him the handle.”

“That’s neat.” His eyes flitted to the recent graduates, looking like black dots speckled across the field. He couldn’t tell which one was Valerie.

Breeze pinched her robe and peeled it off her damp skin as they made their way toward the parking lot. “Did you think any more about joining me in New York? I need to know soon. Just think, we’ll have our own place together, and I’ll rack up so many frequent flier miles you’ll be able to join me on a few flights, during which we’ll join the Mile High Club.” She gave an excited giggle.

He took a deep breath and slowly took off his aviators. “Actually, I have.”

Her smile wavered. “Uh-oh. The glasses are coming off. This doesn’t seem good.”

Ignoring the rain, Michael stopped walking and turned to face her. “Breeze, I’m not going with you to New York.”

“What?” Her face crumpled with confusion and panic. “Why not?”

“It’s your dream. No matter what you say, it doesn’t include me.”

“Yes, it does!”

“Believe me, I thought a lot about this.” He took her hands in his and swung them between them to disguise how much he trembled. “It’s the right decision.”

“Well, what’re you going to do then?” Her voice rose, indignant and scared. “Just stay in Kenton and rot?”

“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut the same time he squeezed her hand. “I joined the army today.”

“You what?” Her voice came out of her like air rushing out of a deflating balloon. “How could you? Why?”

“You told me I needed to do something with my life, about my future, and you were right.”

“But the army!” She chewed on her lip.

“Come on, Breeze.” His gaze darted to her before falling back to their clasped hands, still swinging. “What else am I supposed to do? I’m not cut out for anything. I have no skills, no ambition. I don’t know what to do with myself.” He shrugged. “I figured this might give me an idea.”

“I know, I know, but does this mean...” He finally looked at her and saw tears fill her eyes and cling to her already wet eyelashes. “Are we breaking up? Really and truly?”

Michael’s chest tightened. “Breeze, I love you, and no matter what, I always will. Despite everything that’s happened, I hope you know that by now.”

Breeze pressed her lips together and nodded, accepting his response. “When do you leave?”

“I leave for San Diego in two weeks.”

Her hands left Michael’s and flew to her mouth. “Two weeks!” Her voice cracked as a sob burst from her. “I expected at least one last summer, Michael. I expected we’d have the rest of our lives.”

Michael swallowed hard and wrapped his arms around her small frame. “Maybe someday we will.” He stroked her back over the wet fabric of her graduation robe.

“If only I’d known...”

He drew away from her and kissed her softly. “Breeze, maybe we will,” he repeated, his lips lingering near hers.

Breeze closed her eyes in what he knew was an effort to stop crying. “Do you really believe that?”

He moved a wet strand of hair from off her forehead. “I want to.”

“Me too.” Her eyes shone with hope. “Isn’t there any chance of changing your mind? I feel like it’d be un-American not to try.”

He shook his head. “No. And I don’t think you really want that.”

“Yeah.” Breeze’s face clouded. “I think that’s what makes me saddest.” Her gaze traveled over his face. “Is it weird to be scared to think whatever happens will probably be all right?”

Michael briefly rubbed her wet cheek with his thumb and offered a frail smile, shaking his head.

She took a deep breath and gave him a brave grin. “Well, let’s go then. I only have two weeks to prove to you no woman can ever compare to me, so let’s start having some fun.”

Michael laughed. “I really feel sorry for all those poor bastards in New York who you’re going to turn inside out.” He pictured Breeze naked in a virginal-white room full of plush, gold-trimmed pillows and gauzy veils drifting from the ceiling, surrounded by the sprawled-out bodies of exhausted young men. For once, he didn’t feel sick at the thought. The idea actually amused him.