What Brings Me to You (7 page)

              "I got in," she whispered into my chest.      

              "Huh?"

              "I'll show you, c'mon." She pulled my wrist gently up the stairs. We passed several bedrooms. I couldn't tell which ones belonged to her brothers but I knew right away which one belonged to her parents. It was enormous. There were upgraded windows on almost every wall and the dramatic floors to  ceiling  curtains were open so the light poured in. It was also cold. Grand, Spartan furnishings that didn't seem to go with the rest of the house; it seemed detached. We turned the corner and she led up another, almost hidden staircase into her room.

              Her room was not a room at all, it was a cell. There was one window but it was small and high near the ceiling. There was no closet, which meant this 
was
  a closet and never       intended       for anyone to actually sleep here. She didn't even have a bed frame; just a twin mattress on a box spring on the floor pushed up against the wall. Her clothes were all folded neatly in two bright blue bins that looked like recycling bins. She had one pair of shoes; worn out Cons besides the black flip-flops she was still wearing. She'd made a makeshift desk with books she'd read as legs and a scrap of plywood for the top. She used a banged up folding chair as her desk chair and as a nightstand. On it she had an iPod, but no charger, and just the timepiece without the band to a cheap stopwatch.

              She saw me fingering the iPod, "I found it on the beach. Must've belonged to someone cool; has some great tunes on it. Well, had, I can't play it now."

              "Do you need a charger?" Her eyes lit up like I'd offered her the moon and stars on Christmas day.

              "Do you have a spare?"

              "Yeah, I've got a bunch."

              "Oh, Teddy, Thank you!" She flung her arms around my neck so tightly I nearly fell over but I didn't let go. I couldn't. The length of her body pressed up against mine, breathing in her peaches and cream scent, in her sad bedroom was almost more than I could stand. I dipped my forehead down to touch hers and we stood there, eyes closed, breathing the same rhythm.

              "Where did you get in?"

              "Huh?" She asked, slightly out of breath.

              "You said you got in? Where?"

              "Oh, everywhere."

              "What?"

              "Everywhere I applied," she broke contact and instantly I missed her touch. She took two steps to her "desk", picked up a pile of papers and unceremoniously handed them to me.

              "I thumbed through the papers while she rattled them off: "Yale, NYU, Boston, UCLA...everywhere."

              "Charley, this is amazing!"

              "Yeah."

              "Where are you going?"

              "USF."

              “You mean the University of South Florida?”

              “Yes”

              “The state school across town?”

              “Yes, that’s the one. Why are you looking at me like that?”

              “WHY?”

              "Paul won't pay for me to go anywhere, and it's not like grants and fellowships grow on trees. USF is the only place that'd give me a full ride, including housing."

              "I don't understand."             

              "Look, Adam went to Westpoint, and Caleb is got his doctorate in Judaic Studies at Stony Brook. There was no college fund for me. Hell, there was barely a grocery fund for me."

              "So...then...why..." I didn't want to ask the question but I was compelled. I was trying to stop it from coming out but she knew.

              "So why did bother to apply?"

              "Yes."

              "So I would know. So I would at least have that. I worked so hard in school. At first because, well, I thought, used to think, there was a way into their lives. I thought I could do it. Make them proud; make them see me. When that didn’t work I realized school was my escape from all this. Now it’s just to spite them. I guess I just wanted to prove to Paul or my mother or myself, that I could do it. Even though I don't get to go, I have these," and she pointed to the stack of letters in my hands. "I'll have this forever, the satisfaction of knowing."

              "Knowing what?"

              "That I'm wanted somewhere," My heart broke all over again for her. I was so pissed at her shitty parents I nearly threw the stack of letters.

              "So your future has to suffer because this guy, 
Paul
  is an ass?"

              "What are you talking about? USF is a great school!"

              "It's no Yale," my need to fix this for her seemed to spring from nowhere. I was thinking of every possibility. There was no way she wasn't going to Ivy, not on my watch. What about your real dad?"

              "What about him?" She literally scoffed.

              "Couldn't he help?

              She laughed derisively, "Are you kidding? Even if he wanted to, which he made very clear when he found out my mother was having his baby he didn't, I doubt he'd have any money to help me."

              "Bastard."

              "No, that's me, remember."

              "That's not funny.  Have you ever met him?"

              "No. Saw him a couple times. He plays the trumpet at this jazz place downtown called the Sinatra Bar. That's how he and my mother met. He dresses like a vagrant. I know he's broke."

              "I just don't understand. You're surrounded by all this and you live in a prison cell."

              "Teddy, it could be a lot worse, believe me."

              "How? How could this be worse?" I crumpled onto the edge of her bed in a heap, sitting with my head in my hands.

              "Until a few moments ago it was." She gently sat down next to me. Her voice sounded so young, so vulnerable. I just wanted to take her in my arms and make everything better for her. To save her. "No one, I mean, no one in the world knew this. I was all alone. Now, I have someone to talk to. A...a friend. I've never had a friend before."

When I turned to look at her, her big brown eyes were brimming with tears. All the sadness, strength, and vulnerability I'd seen in them since the first day we met seemed to be bubbling over. I held her tiny, delicate face in my hands and brushed the tears away with my thumbs as they fell. When there were too many, I started to kiss them away gently. The warm, salty liquid hydrated my lips until I was giving her chaste, salty-wet kisses all over her face, her neck, her shoulders. When I reached her collar bone with my lips she let out the tiniest sigh. Like it was what she'd been waiting for -for me to kiss her, to claim her. She wrenched my head from her chest and forced me to look into her eyes. She wasn't crying anymore. There was something else; passion, lust, 
love
?

              "Don't hurt me," she whispered. "Please. Don't hurt me."

CHAPTER FIVE

Charley

              I told you, you were my first, babe. I didn't lie. We barely got to second base that afternoon. He was very sweet with me; gentle even. He kept his hands on my face or my lower back and his eyes locked on mine between kisses. I'd never felt wanted that way, and Teddy made me feel wanted, beautiful.   
Please, don't hurt me,
is all I could think. It played on a loop in my mind over and over while he kissed my nose, my cheeks, behind my ears.
Please don't hurt me
    while I let my hand explore his face, his chest, his biceps with abandon
.
    I slipped my hand under his tee shirt to run my fingers along his taut stomach. In one swift move he whipped off his shirt and I saw his body for the hundredth time, but it was different now because it was in my bed, underneath my hands. His pink and cream skin contrasted so beautifully with my brown hand. I placed my lips in the divide between his pecks and I heard him make a sound that could only be described as pure desire. He used his knuckles under my chin to lift my head so we were eye to eye and he touched his mouth to mine again, grazing his    tongue    over my bottom lip. I shivered at the light touch; at the sweet taste of him. Instinctively, I opened my mouth for more, and he carefully eased his tongue inside letting it glide over my lip and onto my own. I breathed in quickly through my nose. The sensation was so different than I ever thought it’d be. I mean, honestly, when you think about kissing
like that
, on a purely physical plane, it’s kind of gross. Except with Teddy it wasn’t. It was phenomenal: his hands sweetly on either side of my face, holding me steady; his deep, soft moans vibrating against the back of my throat; his sweet lips whispering against mine. I closed my eyes and focused on the feel of his hands running from my hair down to my neck and shoulders.
God
, I thought,
I could do this forever.
When his hand grazed my breast I flinched slightly from surprise, but he bolted up to his feet as if he'd been shot.

              "Oh god, I'm sorry.
Fuck
!" and he ran his hands through his deliciously mussed up hair, letting them rest, interlocked at the back of his head.    He began pacing my room.

              "Teddy?" I sat up, too. I missed his warmth on my face, my hands. I wanted him back.

              "I'm...I'm sorry Charley, I shouldn't have done that."

              "It's okay, Teddy. It's okay, come here," and I opened my arms to him as seductively as I could. He grinned something magnetic and I knew what he was thinking but he wiped it away before it got the best of him and continued pacing.

              "No, I can't. We can't. It's just wrong...I mean, not wrong, it's just not right, not like this. Not with me."

              "Teddy, what are you talking about?" I was genuinely confused but the only thing that I could read was he wasn't into me.    Y
ou're ugly, you're brown, nobody wants you. He doesn't look at you like that, Charley. God, you're stupid.
Adam’s voice. The nasty, biting voice I’d hear in my head was screaming at me. The words were coming hard and fast and even closing my eyes and counting to ten didn't work. Things started not to feel connected, like one of those old movies where you can really only see a frame at a time. My breathing was becoming labored to the point that I could no longer control or hide it. I hugged my knees and held my ears to block out the sound of the voice chastising me in my mind.   
You're ugly!
He cried
. You’re damaged! No one wants you! No one will ever want you! He doesn't want you! He doesn't care about you like that!
   
You’re going to be lousy in bed, anyway!
Teddy’s voice was the only thing that snapped me out of it, and even then, just barely.

              "Charley. Charley! Are you okay?" I felt his breath close, his arms encircled my hips, he was kneeling, literally kneeling before me.

              "Yes."   
He doesn't care about you, ugly.
    I was crying again, but put of embarrassment and fear.    I just wanted to disappear into the mattress like water
. How could you be so stupid, Charley? "
No, of course I'm not okay. What's wrong, Teddy? I thought...I thought you wanted this?"
I thought you wanted
    me
?

              "I do...God," and he ran his hands through his hair again, a frustrated tic I supposed, "I want this more than you know, but it's not right."

              "Why?"

              "Because you deserve...I don't deserve you."

              "Is this because of the girl?"

              "Who?"

              "The girl, what was it? Lisa? Lacey?"

              "No."

              "Your jaw is clenching, I know you're lying."

              "Okay, Jesus,"' he let out a frustrated growl and continued to pace. "Yes, partly. But that's irrelevant now."

              "I don't think so. Who is she, really?"

              "It's not important."

              "You said you were friends 'sometimes', once."

              "Yeah, so?"

              "So she's a fuck-buddy, then? Just tell the truth."

              "Sometimes."

              "Wow. That's really evolved of you. Who initiates it?

              "I think that's enough, don't you?"

              "No! You're here, in my bed, listening to all my secrets, kissing me and comforting me and then just stop out of nowhere because you have a causal relationship with some               chick?" I was beginning to lose it. I was shrieking and panting but I couldn't get a grip.

              "Charley, please."

              "No, I see it all so clearly now. You'd forgo something real with me because I'm ugly so you can hang on to something physical with her because she's hot."

              "Charley. It's not like that; would you calm down and listen to me for a second?" He was getting frantic, too, but I had him beat.

              "Don't FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! What the hell did you think I meant when I said, 'don't hurt me'?" Goddamnit, Teddy! I thought you were smart. I    didn't  think I'd have to spell out the whole sordid thing for you to get it. Don't you see? Every man in my life has treated me like shit! Every. Single. One. Did you need another 'case study' to help you understand that?"

              "No, Charley, I don't have to know, you don't have to do this..."

              "Well, you obviously didn't    get it so maybe you do need a visual. C'mon," I didn't want to. He was right he didn't need to know, but now that I'd started, I couldn’t stop. I led him down the narrow staircase and three doors down to an empty bedroom, talking the whole way: "
Caleb?
Called me "mutt" my entire life. He'd make barking noises when he'd see me; I doubt he even knows my name." I burst in the bedroom and flipped on the light. The room was just like I remembered, he hadn't really changed it since he was fourteen; posters of Carmen Electra from her Baywatch days over the navy and yellow-clad four poster, GI Joes all over the top of the bookcase. I hadn't stepped foot in here since he went off to Westpoint. I swore I never would, but I needed Teddy to see. To feel.   

              "Adam had his own brand of brotherly affection." I was spitting venom and Teddy's face blanched. "Don't look so shocked,   
Gunther,
" It was a low blow to use his name as a weapon against him, but I didn't care, I was on a roll. "Look in the top drawer," I commanded.

              "No." his hands were balled into fists and he was shaking. I didn't care. I wanted him to hurt just like he'd hurt me.       

              "Too scared even to open a drawer? 'Fraid the boogie man will jump out at you?" Part of me wanted to laugh at how ridiculous I was being taunting him like that. I'd never allowed myself to get worked up, to be angry about it, not like this, anyway. It was liberating. "Okay, I'll do it then." pulling open the drawer, inhaling the stale, musty, wood odor I almost vomited. There was a moment when I'd felt the flat envelope under my finger that I recoiled. I could've ended it. A split second where I could've stopped because I knew this was something from which my relationship with Teddy would not recover.
Relationship
?   
Listen to yourself! He doesn't want you, he threw you away the second he got a taste.
I didn't stop. Because I wanted to control how it ended with him
.
I shouldn't have let him get close and I was going to make sure this time he ran away screaming
.       

              "Here!" The envelope hit his chest and all he did was stare at me; the fear in his eyes was like he was being hunted. Maybe he was. I   
was
    preying on is emotions. Deep inside I knew the punishment didn't fit the crime but I wanted this. I wanted him to hurt.

              "Open it," I commanded but he just stood there. Impatiently, I wrenched it from his hands careful not to tear it as I turned up the flap, then, dumped the contents out onto the floor. I knew what the pictures were. I didn't have to look. Instead, I trained my eyes on his face. At first he didn't want to look and we were locked in a staring battle but I knew I could outlast him. When he looked away the disgust registered immediately.

              The pictures were old, but no less disturbing. "Yea," I sneered, I mean   
actually
    sneered,    "made me go down on him from the time I was nine until I was twelve years old and that’s only because he left. He lured me in here with food. Contrary to what Paul told the counselors at my school who thought I was anorexic, they never fucking fed me around here. I ate at school, but when the weekend came I needed to scrounge around like a fucking mouse for scraps left behind. Adam fed me and then he’d knock me around and tell me I'd be a lousy lay. Kept these lovely mementos to torment me. Threatened to tell Paul and have me kicked out. I was too young and too afraid to realize that these could only hurt him," which was only partially true. I realized his threats to tell Paul were just empty threats, but I still didn't want him or mother or anyone finding out. The all-consuming shame kept me quiet about it. That and knowing Paul, he’d find a way to take it out on me or my mother and she didn’t deserve to be punished for my stupidity anymore than I deserved to be punished for hers. So I carried the secret around for years. Teddy was the first person I ever said the words to out loud. Had I not been having a level ten nuclear meltdown at the time, I could’ve appreciated it for the enormous step that it was.

              "Charley, I'm sorry, I didn't know." He was looking at the floor, but not at the photos, running his fingers through his sun bleached hair. He was very contrite, I could have forgiven him, I should have, but something inside me hardened. I was kicking myself for letting him in, against my better judgment. I'd just said the F word and it was like he had no idea how much it meant to me. Rather, I had no idea how little I actually meant to him. He was a bastard just like the rest of them, and I wanted him, no, needed him gone. I should never have let him in.       
Stupid, stupid, stupid.

              "Charley --" He was pleading. I'd never thought a man would beg me for anything, but no matter, the damage had been done. I lowered my voice the way I'd heard Paul do right before he would slap my mother: "Just get out."

              "Charley --" and he made a step toward me like he was going to touch me. I countered by stepping backward, my hands in front of me like a shield. I couldn’t allow him to touch me. Not in Adam’s room. Not after that revelation.

              "I said get out. I don’t want to see you again."

              "I...I'm sorry."

              "I don't care."

              "I just…you don’t really know…You asked…I didn’t want to hurt you and I just...."

              "Leave, Teddy."

              "I don't deserve you."

              "What about what I want? Does that matter to anyone?" I directed it to Teddy, but said it almost to no one; I just put it out into the universe.

              "Things will be better this way."

              "Just go." I was seething. My skin was flushed all over, a ringing in my ears. He didn't fight me anymore. Just turned and showed himself out, shirtless. I stood in the middle of the bedroom until I heard his car take off down the road. Carefully, I returned the photos to the envelope and the envelope to the drawer. I thought seriously about torching them, but I knew if Adam ever found they were gone I'd pay for it somehow. That’s how deep the fear went, that I feared repercussions even though he was a continent away.. I padded back to my "prison cell" as Teddy called it and the thought made me tear up. I lay in my bed in the fetal position when I felt his tee shirt balled underneath my pillow, the physical evidence of his presence and his lingering smell on my sheets cut me so deeply. I wanted to hate him, but couldn't and that made me hate myself for what I’d just done. I was exactly what I never wanted to be, a monster. Like Adam. Like Paul. I cried, all night, in spite of myself.