70
I woke in the morning facing him. The sun poured through the blinds and kissed his hair with light. His sleeping face was so serenely beautiful that I ached to touch it.
But I kept my hands by my side and just contented myself with watching him sleep.
Eventually his eyes fluttered open.
As soon as he saw me, he smiled groggily.
“…hey.”
“Hey,” I whispered.
“I kept my promise.”
“You did,” I agreed.
“I want a present for doing that.”
I looked at him warily. “…what?”
“A kiss.”
I winced.
I wanted to so badly… but I knew I shouldn’t.
He saw my look. “Just a little one. Just three seconds.”
“I have morning breath!” I protested.
“So do I. I don’t care.”
“But – ”
He didn’t wait for an answer, he just lunged.
I giggled and shrieked and rolled over on my back to get away from him.
He rolled on top of me and fought to kiss my mouth, both of us laughing, wrestling –
And then his lips found mine, and I stopped struggling.
And kissed him back.
His lips pressed so soft and warm against mine… so sensual… and I could feel my whole body giving in to him, relaxing under his weight –
And then he broke it off and rolled away to the side.
“That’s all you get,” he teased.
“AAAH!” I yelled, and threw the pillow at him as he laughed.
71
I brushed my teeth and showered in the empty women’s bathroom down the hall. The entire time, I fantasized about him pulling back the curtain and barging in on me, entirely naked, his cock already hard, taking me against my protests, pinning my hands to the tile wall, ravishing me under the hot water –
But he didn’t come in.
I finished the shower, toweled off, dressed, and blow-dried my hair alone.
When I got back, he borrowed my mouthwash and went downstairs to the boy’s bathroom. When he got back, his breath smelled like mint…
…but his body still smelled like what we had done the night before. It lingered on his clothes and his hands, just the barest memory of a scent.
It was a very difficult thing to ignore as we talked and packed and loaded up my car.
72
After I signed my release paperwork with the Residential Advisor, we drove out to the Krispy Kreme on Highway 78 and ate doughnuts and drank milk and held hands under the table as we sat next to each other, side by side.
We stalled for as long as we could. We talked about his plans for the future, though we never touched on mine, for obvious reasons. We joked and teased each other and told stories. Overall we stayed away from anything serious.
But there was one thing I had to know.
“I have a question,” I said.
He smiled. “Uh oh, this sounds like you really have something to say.”
“I kind of do.”
“Alright. Shoot.”
“When you told Shanna that first time… that you…”
His green eyes stared into mine. “That I was in love with you.”
The words took my breath away, and his gaze was so intense that I had to avert my eyes.
“Yeah. That.” It took me a few more seconds to work up the courage to look at him. “Why’d you say it?”
“Because it was true.”
“But why’d you say it then? Most guys wouldn’t do that. What am I saying – nobody would do that.”
“Yeah, I know. But… you’re amazing, Kaitlyn. You’re, just… beautiful, and smart, and funny, and sexy, and strong… you’re the whole package. And I knew exactly what you saw when you looked at me: a guy who sleeps around, who came back with your roommate for a sleazy one-night stand. You don’t have to deny it, I could see it in your eyes. I figured the only way I could ever convince you I was for real is if I just laid it on the line… just put myself out there and let you see me. All of me. And maybe then you’d believe I was telling the truth. I figured that was the only shot I had with you. And that’s why I told her.”
I looked away, overcome.
And then I leaned my body into him and rested my head against his chest.
He stroked my hair and hugged me tight, and I hugged him back.
We must have sat like that for twenty minutes, just holding each other, never saying a word.
73
But eventually there came a point where we both knew I had to leave.
We walked out to my car and stood facing each other. There was a horrible, nauseating sadness in my stomach. If I could have put off this moment forever, I would have.
“I can give you a ride back,” I offered as I opened the driver’s door.
He shook his head. “I’ll take the bus… or I’ll call Ryan.”
“You don’t have a cell phone.”
He pointed at a telephone booth next to the Krispy Kreme. “They have these awesome new telephones that take quarters and – bam! – you can talk to anybody.”
I recognized my own words being used against me. I gave him a look, then smiled as I pulled my phone out of my purse. “You want to use mine?”
He grinned, took it and dialed, and asked Ryan to come get him.
“…but take your time,” he said before he hung up.
He handed the phone back to me.
“…I guess this is it,” I whispered. I could feel myself perilously close to crying.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He took my hands in his.
“Stay with me,” he whispered, his green eyes gazing deep into mine.
My lips trembled. “I… I can’t…”
“Yes you can. If you really want to, you can. Stay with me. You can stay at Ryan’s house for a couple of weeks… I know they’ll let you stay there until I can find a second job, a better job. I’ll get a better place, you can live with me and go to school while Ryan and I do the band…”
I had to look away. Tears filled my eyes. “I… I’m supposed to go to Syracuse…”
“You can keep going here. You can go to journalism school here.”
“I already told them I’m leaving…”
“They’ll let you back in. Stay with me.”
I started crying. “I can’t.”
He took my face in his hands and looked at me so sweetly, it hurt. “If you walk away now, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”
“…if I don’t walk away now, I’m going to regret it, too.”
He tried again. “Then just stay with me one more week.”
I shook my head.
He tried to bargain. “Then three days… two days, even… just two more days…”
I shook my head every time.
“Then give me just one more night,” he pleaded. “I want to make love to you… give me that, at least…”
“I can’t,” I cried.
“It’s better to regret the things you did than the things you didn’t.”
I shook my head as the tears coursed down my cheeks. “Not if it hurts someone you love.”
“He’ll never know,” he whispered.
“I will.”
“Stay with me, Kaitlyn… please. Stay.”
I was bawling now, my body shaking and trembling.
He saw I wasn’t going to give in, and he relented. He smiled at me so sadly, so sweetly, and then he leaned over and softly pressed his lips to mine, kissing me through my tears.
He pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “Have a wonderful life. I love you.”
My heart broke when he said that.
“I love you too,” I sobbed – and then, afraid of what I might do if I stayed one second longer, I jumped in the car, cranked the key, and tore away.
I could barely see through my tears, but I saw him in my rearview mirror, watching me go, never turning away, until he receded into the distance and disappeared.
74
I know what you’re saying.
Why did you leave him?
Why didn’t you break up with Kevin?!
WHY?!
I’ve asked myself that every day for the last four years… but I always come back to the same answer.
On one hand was the only boyfriend I’d ever had. I’d lost my virginity to him. He was the only guy I’d ever gone all the way with… and until those last few days in Athens, he was the only one I’d ever kissed. He’d liked me back when I wasn’t pretty. We had three and a half years of history, and an entire future planned. We were going to go to college together, then we were going to go to New York City, and then to exotic countries, and write and get married and see the world.
On the other hand was the hottest guy I’d ever met. But I knew he was a womanizer. No matter what he said to me, no matter how much I wanted to believe him, there was this lingering fear that I was just another conquest. He had slept with dozens and dozens of women – used them up and then tossed them aside. Or at least never stayed with them. And that’s what I wanted: someone to stay with forever.
I was weighing a lifetime against one moment. Maybe not a moment; maybe a week, or a month. Maybe two or three… and then he would cheat on me. I was certain of it.
What’s one week or month against a lifetime with someone you love?
…or think you love?
I keep coming back to this interview I did once for the Syracuse student paper. I talked to a woman who ran a beautiful old house in the country that doubled as a wedding site and a reception hall, all in one.
She said that by her estimation, a third of the brides who had walked down the aisle in that house knew it was the wrong decision. She could see it in their faces that they knew they were making a mistake. Some even confided in her, because she was the only one they could tell. It wasn’t necessarily that there was another man, although occasionally that was the reason. Usually it was just that the person they were about to marry wasn’t the One. But it was happening now, and her parents had spent so much money, and 200 people were sitting there waiting as the music played –
Even more than that, those brides loved the men they were about to marry, even if they weren’t in love with them.
How could they walk out on them like that? How could they hurt them like that?
That’s essentially what my mom had done to my dad. Gutted him. Broken him. Hurt him so badly he never recovered.
I couldn’t do that to Kevin.
I couldn’t be my mother.
At yet, at the time, I was too young and inexperienced to see all the warning signs Kevin was throwing up like red flags. The insecurity… the petty jealousies… the anger and immaturity… the emotional manipulation…
But how could I see them? I’d only been with him. I didn’t know that’s not how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t realize that’s not how all men act.
I met a man who didn’t act like that, but, hey… he was a womanizer, right?
In retrospect, it’s funny that the womanizer was the more emotionally healthy of the two.
Not funny ‘ha ha’… but funny painful.
Or funny f*cked-up.
Even when Shanna spelled it out for me… well… you only hear what you’re ready to hear, or want to hear. Anything else gets marked down to ‘how can a girl who’s never had a real relationship know anything about mine?’
Everything about my relationship with Kevin looked good on paper.
But you don’t make a life out of how things look on paper.
My heart wanted something else… but I went with my head instead.
Sometimes that’s a good thing.
Not this time.
Kevin and I broke up anyway.
See?
Funny f*cked-up.
Actually, I broke up with him.
Like mother, like daughter.
Lying… destroying the people she was supposed to love most…
So go ahead, hate me for what I did.
You can’t hate me more than I hated myself at the time.
The really f*cked-up thing?
As much pain as it eventually caused me… I wouldn’t have traded that night with Derek for anything.
That probably should have been my first clue.
75
Kevin knew something was different from the minute he got back to Savannah. He asked me what was wrong. I told him I was just afraid. Going to a new school… growing up… it was suddenly real, not just a daydream anymore.
I’m not sure he entirely bought it, but he had me around him again – and he was getting sex at least every other day – so he let it slide.
But the guilt slowly drove me insane… so I told him two weeks before we left for Syracuse.
Sort of.
I told him I’d kissed Derek, and that I was sorry, it was stupid, I was drunk, I didn’t mean it, I loved him – Kevin, not Derek.
Kevin freaked out, of course, and immediately broke up with me.
This time, I was the one pleading. I left messages and texted him a thousand times and cried and said I knew I didn’t deserve him, but please oh please could he forgive me, please, just this once?
He eventually yielded, and we got back together just in time to leave for college.
And then the fun really started.
He played passive-aggressive mind games every time I left his sight. “Don’t cheat on me while I’m in the bathroom.” “Don’t kiss any strangers on your way across campus.”
I accepted it at first. A masochistic form of self-punishment. I told myself I deserved it.
And then he crossed the line one Friday night when he was drunk at a party and called me the C-word at the top of his voice in front of crowd of, oh, fifty or so people.
Yeah. That was a wake-up call.
A Damascus Road conversion, if you will.
In front of that very same crowd, I told him to go f*ck himself, and that I didn’t want to be with him anymore.
This time, he didn’t call and text and whine and beg.
No, he systematically poisoned all his friends against me.
People who had become my friends by default.
Which basically meant half the undergraduate journalism school thought I was a horrible slut who cheated on a really good guy… and I lost my entire social circle in one weekend.
It was a really, really shitty way to spend my first year at a new school.
I thought about transferring. Hell, I thought about going back to UGA… about going back to Derek…
But I’d never heard from him.
I mean, that was at least as much my fault as his. I had Ryan’s cell number; I could have contacted him and found out if Derek still wanted me back.
Unfortunately… I followed their band’s Facebook page.
In the seven months since I’d left, Inward Spiral blew up – at least as a cover band.
Which meant a lot of frat parties.
And apparently some gigs at the 40 Watt and the Georgia Theater.
There was picture after picture of show after show…
…and gorgeous girl after gorgeous girl hanging all over Derek.
Which made me want to cry and vomit and kill him, all at the same time.
Each one of those pictures actually hurt worse than my break-up with Kevin.
Derek had obviously moved on… and there was no way in hell I was ever going to contact him now.
I stopped going on the band’s Facebook page. It was just a little too much like ramming a needle into my heart, over and over again.
But eventually my wounds healed. I compartmentalized those two weeks with Derek, and turned them into a beautiful memory… nothing more.
And I began to realize all the petty little ways Kevin had controlled me. Worse, I began to realize that I had let myself be controlled. And manipulated. My self-pity and sadness curdled into anger, and that anger reignited my famous stubbornness, which made me say, Leave this place just because my ex-boyfriend is a petty a*shole? F*ck THAT SHIT.
And I moved on.
I made new friends outside the Journalism school. I got involved in intramural volleyball. And I met a guy in junior year who I ended up dating until the end of school.
The relationship was fine. He was nice and sweet and giving… but he wasn’t the One. By now I was a little more self-aware and knew not to drag things out, so I tried to have a gentle talk about how we had had a great time together, and would always be friends, but after graduation it might be best if we went our separate ways.
He called me a bitch, got in his car, and drove away. Never heard from him again.
Funny, I didn’t feel anything other than a little sad.
Same with Kevin. I was ten times more angry than hurt.
Both breakups were nothing compared to the first time I heard Derek’s new band on the radio.