Easy (13 page)

Benji tucked a
finger under my chin. “Um. I’m getting the distinct feeling there’s been some
fraternizing
going on.” He sighed at the look on my face. “Look, if you never attended a
tutoring session, and neither of his alter egos
told
you he was the same
guy, how were you supposed to know, exactly?”

The tension in my
shoulders deflated. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m
right. Now what?”

My jaw locked. “No
idea. But one thing’s for sure—I’m not telling him I know.”

Benji shook his
head, one arm around my shoulders as we merged back into the stream of
students. “When I registered for econ, I had no idea that I’d be in for this
level of reality-show drama. It’s like a big fat
bonus
.”

***

Erin:  I signed us up for a self-defense class

Me:  What??

Erin:  Put on by the campus
po-po. Saturdays 9-noon, starts this week, skips the weekend after Thanksgiving,
then 2 more.

Me:  Okay.

Erin:  We get to beat the
shit outta guys in those big puffy suits!!! I’ve always wanted to really kick
the crap outta some guy’s nuts. Now I can do it guilt-free!

Me:  You’re a sick girl.

Erin:  Guilty as charged. :)

***

On Friday, I didn’t look in Landon/Lucas’s
direction once. Not one single time. It had been a week since our
university-prohibited makeout. Was that the pull for him? That I was forbidden
fruit? I’d show him forbidden.

When we were packing up, Benji looked over my shoulder, his eyebrows rising into the dark
curls falling over his forehead.

“Hey, Jackie.”

Kennedy hadn’t
spoken to me in over a month, the last words between us involving a trite
cliché and the very textbook I was currently holding. I pulled a steadying
breath through my nose and turned. “Kennedy.” I waited, sure he had some reason
to approach me, though I had no idea what it was.

“Are you heading home
for Thanksgiving? If so, we should carpool. You know, make that four-hour drive
a little less monotonous.”

“You want us to
drive home…
together
?”

He shrugged and
flicked his head to the side with a faintly dimpled smile. Kennedy tossing his
hair out of his eyes was an arresting sight, and he damn well knew it. At the
moment, though, it kind of pissed me off.

Benji cleared his throat and touched my elbow. “See ya Monday,
Jacqueline
.”

I smiled at him. “Have a good weekend,
Benjamin
.”

He winked at me and bumped by Kennedy without apology.

“What’s his deal?” my ex scowled.

“What do you
really want, Kennedy?” I shifted my backpack and stared up at him, conflicted
by my contradictory desires in that moment. I wanted to punch him in the face.
I wanted to fall into his arms and wake up from the nightmare of him casting me
aside.

“I’d like for us
to be friends at the end of this. You mean a lot to me.” The gentleness in his
eyes was almost a physical caress. I’d known him so well, and for so long.

This speech was unanticipated—too
much, too soon. My eyes teared up. “I don’t know if I can ever do that,
Kennedy. And I don’t want to drive home with you next week. Excuse me.” I edged
around him and started up the aisle to the door.

“Jackie—”

“It’s
Jacqueline
,” I said without turning, leaving him behind.

***

Landon,

I’m
sending this a little early, though of course I don’t imagine you’re sitting
around on a Friday night waiting for economics projects to pour in. But I’m
going to be busy tomorrow morning, so I thought I’d go ahead and send it.

Thank you again for looking it over before I turn it in.

JW

Jacqueline,

As
a matter of fact, you’ve distracted/saved me (temporarily, at least) from an
infuriating search for a bug somewhere within hundreds of lines of code that doesn’t
quite work. I’d
much
rather look over your econ project. I’ll have it
back to you by Sunday evening, if not sooner.

LM

I stared at the L
of his signature, picturing him as the guy I knew he was—Lucas. As Landon, his
flirting had been subtle; as Lucas, it was overt. What game was he playing? I
had no way of knowing if this situation was a first for him, or if he frequently
stepped outside of those tutor-student boundaries. The night we met, that
horrible night, he’d known who I was. He’d called me Jackie, the name he must
have heard Kennedy call me. When I first emailed him for economics help, he
must have known, too, but he gave me no hint.

According to the university’s
website, restrictions on socializing were to protect—or prevent—students from trading
sexual favors for grades, or the appearance of such a thing. But Landon was
helping me learn the material, and I was doing the work. When it came to my
grade in Dr. Heller’s class, there was nothing improper going on. He knew it. I
knew it.

But even consensual
fraternization, as Benji called it, was theoretically against the rules.

I could get Landon
Maxfield in serious trouble. When he came to my room, I thought he was just
another student in the class, and he’d continued that deception.

He’d kissed me, touched
me, and I’d let him. I’d wanted him to.

I shut my laptop
and stared at my phone. We’d made out a week ago. Here, in my room. And hadn’t
texted me once since then. I wanted to know why.

Me:  Did I do something wrong?

I waited several
minutes, looking at photos on my phone—many of which included Kennedy. I
wondered if it was weakness that made it tough to delete them, or if I just
wanted to keep the evidence that we’d seemed in love—that we’d looked in love,
even while it was all ending.

Lucas:  No. Been busy. What’s up?

Me:  I guess you haven’t had time to redo the sketches.

Lucas:  Actually, I did one of them. I’d like you to see it.

Me:  I’d like to see it. Is it tacked to your wall?

Lucas:  Yes.

Lucas:  Listen, I’m out right now, ttyl?

Me:  Sure

According to his
email, he was working on what sounded like a huge CSE project, and according to
his text, he was out partying. I had no idea which was true. I’d believe he was
blowing me off… except for this:
I’d like you to see it
. I reread the
text, opened my laptop and reread his email, but felt no closer to figuring him
out.

***

Erin came storming into our room at
1:00 am, on her cell. “You know what? I think you don’t respect my opinion
about a
lot
of things.”

Luckily, I was awake,
watching online video clips of self-defense classes. Despite Erin’s eagerness
for nut-kicking and my own need to learn this stuff, the last thing I wanted to
do in the morning was get up and go punch and kick some guy in a puffy suit. I
couldn’t see how that would correlate into getting away from someone like Buck.
If I’d have been able to break his grip on me either night, let alone kick him,
I would have.

The door shut
behind my clearly furious roommate as she flung her bag onto her bed, kicking
off her heeled pumps. “Well,
I
can’t be with someone who’s decided to
stand behind a fucking
rapist
.”

Oh, God. I closed
out of YouTube and pushed my laptop off my lap.

“Yes, Chaz, that’s
what I really think.” She unbuttoned her white blouse so forcefully, I was sure
she would rip off a button or two. “
Fine
. Think whatever you want. I’m
done.” Punching her phone, she growled at it and tossed it on her bed before
turning to me, yanking her shirt off. “Well. I guess
that’s
over.”

My mouth agape, I
sat, speechless, while she shoved her black skirt down over her hips and kicked
it in the general direction of the laundry hamper. She slipped bracelets from
her arms and removed her earrings, dropping them on a desk littered with
jewelry, tarot cards, gum packets and paperback novels.

“Erin, did you
just—break up with Chaz? Over
me
?”

She pulled on a
t-shirt that fell to mid-thigh and clearly belonged to Chaz. Scowling, she
ripped it back over her head, wadded it up and hurled it. “No. I broke up with
Chaz because he’s a fucking twat-headed jackass.”

“But—”

“Jacqueline.” She
held up one palm like a traffic cop signaling
stop
. “Don’t say it. I
broke up with Chaz because he proved what’s important to him. ‘Bros before hos.’
Well fuck that. I won’t come second to a bunch of his dumbass friends, and I
certainly won’t come second to some dickhead who’s a walking affront to all
women. Besides… it was never gonna be a permanent thing, right? Who does that
in college anyway?”

She spun around
and rummaged through the top drawer of our tiny built-in wardrobe, ostensibly
searching for a non-previously-Chaz-owned t-shirt. I heard one muffled sniff
and knew she was crying. Damn Chaz. Damn Buck. Damn Lucas/Landon/whoever the hell
he was.

***

The campus “Self-Defense for Women”
classes were held in one of the classrooms on the first floor of the activities
building. We found the room and I tossed my coffee cup in the hallway trash
can, Erin yawning after a sleepless night—which I knew because her restless
fidgeting and sniffling had kept me awake. Around 4:00 am, she’d crawled into
bed with me, curling into spoon position against me as I swept the hair back
from her face. Mercifully, she’d fallen asleep almost immediately, and I’d
followed suit.

“Hey. Isn’t
that—?” Erin spoke without moving her lips, like a ventriloquist. Clad in black
sweat pants and a black t-shirt, Lucas stood at the front of the room with two
older men.

“
Yes
,” I
hissed as we took our seats and I stared down at the packet of course material,
the cover of which depicted a man attacking a woman who was poised to defend
herself. “Erin, I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes you
can
,”
she countered, so quickly that she must have been anticipating my response.

“Good morning,
ladies.” The smaller, older guy began, silencing any further protest from me. “I’m
Ralph Watts, the Assistant Chief of Police on campus. This feeble-looking guy
to my left is Sergeant Don, and the ugly one is Lucas, one of our parking
enforcement officers.” Everyone chuckled, as Don and Lucas were far from feeble
or ugly. “We’re pleased that you’ve given up a Saturday mornings to increase your
knowledge of personal safety.”

I snuck a look at
Erin when she nudged me with her knee. “Parking enforcement officer? Jesus, how
many jobs does he
have
?” she mumbled from the side of her mouth.

“No shit,” I mumbled
back. She didn’t even know about the tutoring job.

“Could be hot…”
she whispered. “Especially if there’s a uniform. Or handcuffs.”

I sighed.

Glancing around
the semi-circle of folding chairs, I noted that there were only about a dozen
of us—a mix of students, professors and administrative staff. The oldest was a
white-headed black woman who had to be the age of my grandmother. I told myself
that if she could come in here to learn how to kick potential rapist ass, so
could I.

Even if Lucas was
standing across the room, alternately staring at me and avoiding my eyes
completely.

The first hour and
a half, basic self-defense principles were discussed. Ralph told us that ninety
percent of self-defense involves reducing the risk of attack in the first place.
“In an ideal world, we could all go about our business without fear of being
assaulted. Unfortunately, that ideal is not representative of reality.”

My face heating, I
recalled Lucas admonishing me for walking across the dark parking lot behind
the frat house texting, instead of paying attention to my surroundings. I circled
“90%” in blue ink until I’d obscured the words on either side. But then I
remembered the last thing he’d said that night:
It wasn’t your fault
.

We were encouraged
to propose safety prevention suggestions, and write them all down—locking
doors, walking or exercising with a friend, wearing shoes that don’t hinder
running. Erin’s suggestion of “Avoid assholes” was popular.

“Three things are
necessary for an assault: an assailant, a victim, and opportunity. Remove
opportunity
and you take a huge leap in reducing the likelihood of the assault.” Ralph
clapped his hands together once. “Alrighty, let’s take a short break, and when
we come back, it’s time to do some of the butt-kicking you ladies signed up to
inflict on Don and Lucas.”

Chapter 11

“Many of you are probably convinced
that without a weapon, you have no hope against an aggressive male.” Ralph
spoke from the opposite side of a set of mats on which Don and Lucas faced each
other. The rest of us spread out along the outer edge of the mats, prepared to
watch whatever they were about to do. Lucas still hadn’t acknowledged my
presence.

“The truth is, you
have several weapons at your disposal, and we’re gonna show you how to utilize
them to your best advantage. Big, mean Don here will be the assailant, and Lucas,
with all that pretty hair, will be the intended victim.”

Giggling erupted
from several girls standing near Lucas as he pinned his lips together in
good-natured irritation and raked his dark hair back out of his face.

“Your weapons are
your hands, feet, knees and elbows, and your head—and I don’t just mean what’s
inside it, although that comes into play. Your forehead and the back of your
head, when they come into contact with susceptible areas on your assailant, can
leave him seeing stars.” Using Don as an example, he pointed out the obvious
vulnerable spots (“
Yes
,” Erin hissed when he indicated the groin), and
then the less obvious places, like the top of the foot and the forearm.