The Fifth Circle (10 page)

Reality suddenly seemed too overwhelming: the fight with my dad, the conversation between my mom and Susan, the unprotected sex. I needed an escape. Should I call my mom and ask her to bring my backpack when she brought my clothes? My vampire book was in there and I had to have some way to entertain myself while Sean played his game. 

“Did you like it?”
Sean whispered in my ear, bringing my attention back to the present. “I mean, I thought it was so much better without anything in between us. It was so much more intense. Maybe you could take the pill or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said. No way was I going to go to my family doctor. I guessed I could call a clinic, but that seemed like a lot of work.
He’d probably just forget about the rush of unprotected sex and go back to using a condom the next time.

“What do you mean maybe?” he asked, caressing one breast. “You don’t want to get pregnant do you?”

“Of course not,” I said.

“One day, though, right?”

“I guess.”

“You don’t want to have children? Don’t you think our kids will be beautiful?” he pressed.

“Yeah. You know, I just think we should finish college before we even think about all this…”

“But what if you are
pregnant now? I mean, it’s possible. We just had unprotected sex. What if you were pregnant? Would you want to keep it?” he asked.

Something in his voice told me I must be very careful with my answer. If I said I didn’t want to have a child with him, he would take it as a personal rejection. If I seemed too anxious to bear his offspring, he might be gung-ho to begin procreating right away.

“Sean, you have no idea how often I dream about marrying you and having a family. I just want us to get good jobs and buy a nice house first. I want everything to be perfect when we start having kids.”

He
relaxed and snuggled against me. I’d done well. My answer, though not entirely truthful, was perfectly executed. He would feel secure in his belief that I fantasized about a life with him and would hopefully refrain from future mention of reproducing while we were still in high school. I breathed a sigh of relief and dozed off in his arms.

***

“Shit!” he screamed, startling me. I counted to ten and reminded myself his tirade was not directed at me. While I snuggled in his bed, reading the newest installment in my favorite vampire series, Sean sat at his computer, ranting and railing at his game.

“Motherfucker,” he hissed.

For a second, I thought about rising from the bed, standing by his side in a show of support, and rubbing the tension from his shoulders. My experiences with my father had taught me much, and I quickly decided against such rash behavior. When my dad got in one of his moods, Mom and I gave him a wide berth. We wouldn’t dream of approaching him if one of his teams lost, and I would certainly refrain from approaching Sean in his enraged state.

I tried to concentrate on my book, but it was impossible. “I think I’ll see if your mom needs help with anything,” I said in a near whisper.

“Whatever,” he grumbled as I eased from the room.

Susan
was at the kitchen table with a stack of bills in front of her. “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “Do you want anything to drink? Make yourself at home.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for letting me stay here. If I start to get on your nerves, just tell me, and I can go home.” I felt uncomfor
table staying the whole weekend…sleeping in her son’s bed, eating her food, becoming a general burden.

“
You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, honey. I enjoy having you. I just hope my son doesn’t drive you crazy. He’s hard to deal with sometimes, isn’t he?” she asked, lowering her voice.

“
He isn’t too bad. Guys are just difficult…you know.”

“You’ve been a good friend to him, Alex. Sean has a lot of potential
—most people just don’t see it. Maybe you can encourage him to get serious about his school work. I’d like to see him go to college,” she said.

“I’ll do what I can, but you know how stubborn he is.”
Not just stubborn—difficult.

“I know. What’s
he doing right now?”

“He’s just messing around on the computer,” I
said, hoping she wouldn’t ask me what type of game he was playing. But, I think she knew. She just didn’t care as long as he seemed fairly normal. In other words, if I was around, she didn’t worry about him. It had become my job to keep him in line. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No. Tell Sean to take you somewhere. You kids should get out of the house for a while, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Let me go see what he wants to do.” I headed back down the hallway. Sean was still seated at the computer desk, but his expression had relaxed a bit. I eased back into the room and sat at the edge of the bed until the tension left his shoulders and he seemed ready to speak with me.

“Sorry I
bit your head off, Alex. This game’s pretty intense. My quad-mates are giving me shit about not logging enough hours. Once I start working…” he trailed off, agitated.

I
walked over to him and placed my hand on his shoulder. He pulled me down onto his lap.

“You don’t have to work, you know. If it’s too stressful, why don’t you wait until after graduation?”
I couldn’t possibly see how Sean could handle a job and school at the same time.

“It’s for our future. I want to take care of you,” he
said.

“I love you.” I kissed his forehead and hoped my weight wasn’t crushing his legs. I tried to stand, but he held me tight.

“I love you too. We should go out and see a movie or something. You know…celebrate my last weekend as a free man.”

The idea of going out did not appeal to me, but at Sean’s insistence,
I dressed in one of the ill-fitting outfits my mom had brought over. I shivered in the night air as we eased onto his front porch and out to his truck, slouching down low in the seat in order to avoid detection. If my dad happened to glance out the window and see me with Sean, he’d find out my mom lied to him about my whereabouts and there would be hell to pay for both of us.

As if reading my mind, Sean said, “He’s probably passed out drunk, Alex. Don’t worry
. I’ll protect you.”

I appreciated his sentiment, but Sean couldn’t protect me from my father. No one could.

***

I was
nine when my teacher sent me to the school nurse because of the blood. All the kids laughed when I stood up to sharpen my pencil, and at first, I couldn’t figure out why. The spot was on the back of my pants where I couldn’t see it, but everyone else could. When I eased back behind my desk, my face crimson with embarrassment and confusion, Mrs. Wilcox approached me, pressed a canary yellow slip of paper into my hand, and told me to take it to the clinic.

“Better take your book bag just in case,” she said softly as I stood up from my molded plastic seat. The vicious titters followed me out the door and into the hallway, only ceasing when Mrs. Wilcox shut the classroom door firmly.

My tennis shoes squeaked as I made my way across the scuffed tiled floors toward the nurse’s office. I dared a glance at the crumpled paper clutched in my sweaty palm, but the only word that almost made sense was “period.” I wondered what that had to do with me.

Mrs.
Sanderson read the note carefully and when she looked up into my face, I saw compassion there. It was an expression I’d never seen before—not on the face of an adult. Only Sean, the shrimpy kid who always got made fun of, the boy who I could tell anything to, looked at me that way. I felt my mouth screw up into a bow as I cried. When I started, I couldn’t stop. Heaving and choking, I lowered my head to my lap and sobbed as the nurse rubbed my slender back.

“It’s
okay, sweetie,” she said. “It’s just part of growing up. Do you want me to call your mom?”

I stared at her in confusion. My face felt tight and swollen and my eyes burned. I shook my head. I didn’t understand why I was in trouble, or what she was talking about when she spoke of growing up.

“Do you know what a period is?” she asked gently. I bobbed my head up and down. Of course I knew. My mom told me and so did Claire. Claire had her period, but what did that have to do with me?

“I can give you a pad to wear, but we’ll have to call your mom or dad to bring you a fresh pair of jeans and panties.”

Why? Wait—was that why all the kids were laughing? Did I bleed on myself without knowing?

“I’m having my…” I began to cry all over again. Claire was thirteen when she had hers. I wasn’t supposed to start yet. I’d seen the blood the night before, but it wasn’t supposed to be my period. I thought it was because he hurt me
—so did he. The blood made him promise not to do it that way again.

“Do you want me to call your mom?” Mrs.
Sanderson asked.

“He told me not to tell,” I blurted without thinking.

“Who, sweetie?” Her face twisted in confusion, but not suspicion, because even in a world where secret horrors are splashed across TV and lamented over on talk shows, most people don’t see it when it really happens. Not school nurses, not moms, not aunts even when you tell them. People don’t want to see it—so they don’t.

Chapter
10- Sean

The portal of the future shall be closed

(Canto X, line 108)

By the end of the first week of December, I never wanted to see another pizza again.
I hated that I reeked of marinara sauce and garlic all the time, and that I fell into bed exhausted and sexually frustrated every night. My moods began a rapid descent similar to the anger and depression I’d felt following the death of Stryder. I couldn’t understand why I felt so desolate, so hollow. With Alex, life was supposed to be perfect. Work was the cause of all my troubles.

Things had gone to shit between me and my quad-mates
on OwlBane. Even with school and work, I still managed to log at least four hours each weekday and more on weekends, but apparently, that wasn’t good enough for them. The latest message from the quad leader said I was on probation until I could prove my dedication to the unit. Whatever. Let him try to find a new quad member. Maybe I’d try to find a new quad. Or, better yet—a new game. It was bullshit because I was the best player in the quad, but I guessed they were pissed because I couldn’t stick to their ‘schedule.’ It was all because I had to stay late at work one time. One time.

My job was screwing things up in other areas of my life too. I could already feel me and Alex beginning to grow apart.
I only saw her for maybe fifteen minutes in the morning before school and during our thirty-minute lunch break. After school, I was lucky if I saw her for a couple of hours. Work started at five, so after school we had a little bit of time together, but not enough.

After donning the vestments of fast-food fashion, I smothered Alex in kisses, forced her to promise me she would wait up for my phone call later, and fired up the old pick-up
truck. Once at work, I half-heartedly smeared sauce on pizza crusts while wishing I could be anywhere but in that hot, greasy kitchen. I always called Alex during break times and she always answered.

One time she didn’t.

It was only a week before Christmas, and school was out for Winter Break. I didn’t mind going to work when I could sleep in the next day. It made my thirty hour work week somewhat more tolerable. I was actually in a good mood for once when I got to work, but it didn’t take long before my holiday spirit was smashed under the big-ass work boots of Jake Clark.

Jake was a typical S
aint Edmunds success story. A football player in high school, Jake coasted through school without really doing anything at all. His skills on the field were remarkable enough to endear him to teachers, coaches, and fellow students, but not quite impressive enough to earn him a scholarship to a decent school. He bumped around Saint Louis Community College for a semester, failed all his classes, knocked-up his longtime girlfriend, and started working for his dad’s business. Jake, a sullen drunk like his dad, helped drive the family business into the ground. His girlfriend, then pregnant with his second child, begged a friend to give Jake a job, and the rest was history.

“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you to use a measuring cup?” he complained.

I hated the way he stood over me holding his height and his title over my head. I chose to ignore him and continued to sprinkle cheese over the sauce with my plastic glove-clad fingers.

“Sean, are you listening?”

“Yeah. Whatever.” I grabbed the measuring cup, scooped an overflowing helping of cheese, and flung it onto the pizza crust. Why wouldn’t Jake piss off and leave me alone? Didn’t he have personal phone calls to make or some weed to smoke behind the building? That’s what he usually did when he was on duty and the store manager wasn’t there.

“Dude, your attitude sucks.”
He began building boxes and stacking them in the corner. “When you’re done there, why don’t you change the trash? I’ll take over for you in prep.”