The One Who Drives You Home
Cinnamon mocha with whipped cream
The last day of the week was torture. I met Gerard at the school steps that morning, and he gave me a look that said he wanted an explanation. However, instead of acknowledging him, I just continued straight on past him.
My lessons were awful. My friends caught on to my miserable mood more than once, questioning me on it. I waved them off, saying I didn't sleep well or that I was getting a cold (both of which were true).
As I was shuffling towards one of my classes, sniffling and generally feeling sorry for myself, I saw Dean smirking at me from across the hall. It took everything within my power to stop myself from drop kicking the little shit. An audible snarl emanated from my throat and Taylor, who had previously been immersed in sleepover plans, gave an alarmed yelp. I apologised quickly, giving her a graphic explanation of the phlegm clogging my airway. That was enough to throw her off the subject.
Despite the u-turn I had taken in the way I treated him, Gerard only tried to contact me three times. The first was a text, then a phone call (both ignored) and a final abusive text stating that he was right when he said I was just trying to mess with his head. Not being able to defend myself was killing me, as stubborn as I was, but I could feel Dean’s eyes on me even as I read the message.
In accordance with the rest of my day, cheer practise was terrible. A coughing fit halfway through the routine triggered a rant from Ebony.
“Evie, I know you've been in a crappy mood all day, but do you have to gross everyone out with your diseases? You better not be sick tomorrow, I don't want to catch anything at Taylor’s sleepover. And your pikes are sloppy.”
I tried to explain that I couldn't just not be sick, but my words were unable to penetrate that dense skull that Ebony possesses.
A wave of relief washed over me when I finally walked through my front door. I kicked my sodden shoes off before crawling up the stairs to my room. There, the tranquility I was expecting did not come. Instead, my feelings started eating away at me. I wanted to explain everything to Gerard, but his last, hurtful text kept my fingers hovering over the screen. What could I say to him now? ’Sorry Gerard, my popularity is more important than our friendship’? Even if I did text him, there’s no guarantee he would even read it.
My life was a mess. Ever since Gerard became part of it my life has just gone from bad to worse. But the weirdest part was I didn't blame him for it. If anything, he made me realise that there's more to life than cheerleading and being a bitch. He gave me a taste of what I'd wanted all along - the clean slate I thought about when I first joined Belleville High. And now I'd well and truly fucked that up. It wasn't like the other times, when we’d make up a few days later. No, this time, there was no making up. I couldn't risk it.
Then another thought struck me. I'd been so wrapped up in my own self pity that it didn't occur to me before.
What would they do to Gerard if everyone found out?
A different form of guilt washed over me - one that acknowledged that I'd doomed, not only myself, but Gerard as well.
My mental monologue ended with me curling into a ball, imagining all the different scenarios in which Dean let our secret slip. Each one was equally as ugly, and not one had a solution to the problem.
That night was another sleepless one. I tossed and turned and even cried. And no matter how I hard I tried, I couldn't think of a way out of my mess. As usual, my tattered teddy was there to catch my tears, but it didn’t stop them from coming.
***
I groaned as my mum burst into my room the next morning. My bleary eyes scowled at her before I rolled over and curled up under my covers.
“Good morning to you, Evelyn,” my mum chuckled (to which my response was another groan), “I came in to see if you wanted to come shopping in Newark.”
Shopping was one of my trigger words. If I was ever in a coma, someone would just need to say ’shopping’ and that would bring me back to consciousness with a bang.
I sat up quickly, suddenly alert. “Shopping?”
“Mmhm.”
“Of course I do!”
My mum laughed again and, as she turned to leave, said, “if you’re ready in...” she trailed off as she looked at her watch, “half an hour, I'll buy you a Starbucks.”
The resulting flurry of movement would have seemed inconceivable for someone as tired as I was, but yet there I was, rushing out of my room towards the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the banister as I did so.
Twenty eight minutes later, I was jumping the last few stairs to land in front of my mum who was waiting by the front door. My makeup was minimal and my hair was still partially wet, but I'd countered that by throwing it into a top knot. Checking her watch, my mum looked surprised that I'd actually managed to ready myself in under thirty minutes. I grinned and she shrugged, opening the door and hurrying to the car through the gale blowing around the house.
After a quarter of an hour in the car, I was stepping out into sunny Newark to commence our shopping trip. This place held so many memories for me; it was the first place I saw when I came to America; I spent three years of my life attending school there; and if it wasn't for Rutgers, we wouldn't even had made it to America.
I pulled my scarf up to cover my mouth (the sun may have been shining, but it was still freezing) and trotted after my mum in the direction of Starbucks.
The coffee shop was empty besides a few couples savouring the warmth of their drinks. We directed ourselves to the counter and began to stare at the menu.
“So...what d’ya want?” My mum asked.
I thought about it for a moment, letting out a long ’ummm...’, and then responded with, “cinnamon mocha with whipped cream please.” I grinned as she made a mental note of my order and then let my eyes wander around the shop as she repeated my request to the barista.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door open and instinctively turned to look at the newcomers. My heart dropped when I saw them. I quickly turned back towards my mum and hoped they hadn't seen me. Of all the Starbucks in Newark to come to...
My mother finished ordering, glancing at me as she waited for our drinks. Her gaze seemed to bounce of my head to the people standing behind me. I cringed as a look of recognition crossed her face.
“Gerard!” Damnit. “I didn't expect to see you again so soon! Here, let me get your drinks.” Are you fucking kidding me?
“Oh, hi Mrs McCullagh. No, you don't have too, I don't mi -”
“No, no. I insist. Why don't you kids go sit down and I'll bring them over?”
I wanted the whole world to swallow me up. I wasn't sure whether I was embarrassed, or nervous, or ashamed. Gerard’s words had hit me like bullets last night. I thought shopping would help me take my mind off it, but I guess karma’s a bitch. After a quick check to make sure Dean wasn't anywhere around, I reluctantly shuffled over to an unoccupied table and threw myself into a seat. Gerard and Mikey ordered their drinks, then followed suit, both sitting awkwardly with straight backs. None of us wanted to look at each other, so we took to staring at various objects. I chose to study the grain in the dark wood table.
After a minute or two, Mikey began to fidget, muttering something about helping my mum with the drinks. My mind was begging him not to go, but I kept my lips shut tightly. Once he was out of the way, I felt Gerard’s eyes fall on me. I tried my hardest to avoid his glare, but, painfully slowly, I brought my eyes up to meet his.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, no trace of emotion in his voice. I nervously played with my fingers, digging my nails into my skin while I thought of an excuse. When none came, I dropped my head and nodded.
“Are you going to tell me why?”
I should tell him the truth. It would be easier for everyone if I did, but what would he do? Would he confront Dean? Or would he see it from my point of view and stay silent? I could just lie; say that things are too complicated and we shouldn't see each other anymore. But would I be able to do that? I treasured whatever Gerard and I had - if I lied now, I'd ruin it for good.
Taking a deep breath, I said in a low voice, “Dean knows about us.”
“Dean Stainton?”
I nodded again, expecting Gerard to react, but he stayed silent while he pondered this new information.
“Is he going to tell Ebony?”
“No, but he’s watching us. We can't be seen together, or even look at each other.”
“Why would he keep a secret like this?” Gerard’s voice was still level. I expected him to freak out, much like I did.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he must want something in return, right?”
My eyes widened slightly. How did he figure that out? I definitely couldn't tell Gerard what Dean wanted; he'd been calm and composed up until now, but if he found out...
Instead of trying to make up a lie, I just shrugged, hoping that would be enough.
Gerard sighed, looking at me with - almost frustrated - eyes. “What are his terms, Evie?”
“There aren't any!”
“Don’t lie -”
“Sorry about that!” My mum cut in, carrying a wooden tray upon which our drinks sat, “they ran out of cinnamon, so they had to get another bottle from the store cupboard.”
Gerard eyed me dangerously as my mum handed out our drinks, but didn't say another word on the matter. I winced, knowing I would be in for it later.
My lessons were awful. My friends caught on to my miserable mood more than once, questioning me on it. I waved them off, saying I didn't sleep well or that I was getting a cold (both of which were true).
As I was shuffling towards one of my classes, sniffling and generally feeling sorry for myself, I saw Dean smirking at me from across the hall. It took everything within my power to stop myself from drop kicking the little shit. An audible snarl emanated from my throat and Taylor, who had previously been immersed in sleepover plans, gave an alarmed yelp. I apologised quickly, giving her a graphic explanation of the phlegm clogging my airway. That was enough to throw her off the subject.
Despite the u-turn I had taken in the way I treated him, Gerard only tried to contact me three times. The first was a text, then a phone call (both ignored) and a final abusive text stating that he was right when he said I was just trying to mess with his head. Not being able to defend myself was killing me, as stubborn as I was, but I could feel Dean’s eyes on me even as I read the message.
In accordance with the rest of my day, cheer practise was terrible. A coughing fit halfway through the routine triggered a rant from Ebony.
“Evie, I know you've been in a crappy mood all day, but do you have to gross everyone out with your diseases? You better not be sick tomorrow, I don't want to catch anything at Taylor’s sleepover. And your pikes are sloppy.”
I tried to explain that I couldn't just not be sick, but my words were unable to penetrate that dense skull that Ebony possesses.
A wave of relief washed over me when I finally walked through my front door. I kicked my sodden shoes off before crawling up the stairs to my room. There, the tranquility I was expecting did not come. Instead, my feelings started eating away at me. I wanted to explain everything to Gerard, but his last, hurtful text kept my fingers hovering over the screen. What could I say to him now? ’Sorry Gerard, my popularity is more important than our friendship’? Even if I did text him, there’s no guarantee he would even read it.
My life was a mess. Ever since Gerard became part of it my life has just gone from bad to worse. But the weirdest part was I didn't blame him for it. If anything, he made me realise that there's more to life than cheerleading and being a bitch. He gave me a taste of what I'd wanted all along - the clean slate I thought about when I first joined Belleville High. And now I'd well and truly fucked that up. It wasn't like the other times, when we’d make up a few days later. No, this time, there was no making up. I couldn't risk it.
Then another thought struck me. I'd been so wrapped up in my own self pity that it didn't occur to me before.
What would they do to Gerard if everyone found out?
A different form of guilt washed over me - one that acknowledged that I'd doomed, not only myself, but Gerard as well.
My mental monologue ended with me curling into a ball, imagining all the different scenarios in which Dean let our secret slip. Each one was equally as ugly, and not one had a solution to the problem.
That night was another sleepless one. I tossed and turned and even cried. And no matter how I hard I tried, I couldn't think of a way out of my mess. As usual, my tattered teddy was there to catch my tears, but it didn’t stop them from coming.
***
I groaned as my mum burst into my room the next morning. My bleary eyes scowled at her before I rolled over and curled up under my covers.
“Good morning to you, Evelyn,” my mum chuckled (to which my response was another groan), “I came in to see if you wanted to come shopping in Newark.”
Shopping was one of my trigger words. If I was ever in a coma, someone would just need to say ’shopping’ and that would bring me back to consciousness with a bang.
I sat up quickly, suddenly alert. “Shopping?”
“Mmhm.”
“Of course I do!”
My mum laughed again and, as she turned to leave, said, “if you’re ready in...” she trailed off as she looked at her watch, “half an hour, I'll buy you a Starbucks.”
The resulting flurry of movement would have seemed inconceivable for someone as tired as I was, but yet there I was, rushing out of my room towards the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the banister as I did so.
Twenty eight minutes later, I was jumping the last few stairs to land in front of my mum who was waiting by the front door. My makeup was minimal and my hair was still partially wet, but I'd countered that by throwing it into a top knot. Checking her watch, my mum looked surprised that I'd actually managed to ready myself in under thirty minutes. I grinned and she shrugged, opening the door and hurrying to the car through the gale blowing around the house.
After a quarter of an hour in the car, I was stepping out into sunny Newark to commence our shopping trip. This place held so many memories for me; it was the first place I saw when I came to America; I spent three years of my life attending school there; and if it wasn't for Rutgers, we wouldn't even had made it to America.
I pulled my scarf up to cover my mouth (the sun may have been shining, but it was still freezing) and trotted after my mum in the direction of Starbucks.
The coffee shop was empty besides a few couples savouring the warmth of their drinks. We directed ourselves to the counter and began to stare at the menu.
“So...what d’ya want?” My mum asked.
I thought about it for a moment, letting out a long ’ummm...’, and then responded with, “cinnamon mocha with whipped cream please.” I grinned as she made a mental note of my order and then let my eyes wander around the shop as she repeated my request to the barista.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door open and instinctively turned to look at the newcomers. My heart dropped when I saw them. I quickly turned back towards my mum and hoped they hadn't seen me. Of all the Starbucks in Newark to come to...
My mother finished ordering, glancing at me as she waited for our drinks. Her gaze seemed to bounce of my head to the people standing behind me. I cringed as a look of recognition crossed her face.
“Gerard!” Damnit. “I didn't expect to see you again so soon! Here, let me get your drinks.” Are you fucking kidding me?
“Oh, hi Mrs McCullagh. No, you don't have too, I don't mi -”
“No, no. I insist. Why don't you kids go sit down and I'll bring them over?”
I wanted the whole world to swallow me up. I wasn't sure whether I was embarrassed, or nervous, or ashamed. Gerard’s words had hit me like bullets last night. I thought shopping would help me take my mind off it, but I guess karma’s a bitch. After a quick check to make sure Dean wasn't anywhere around, I reluctantly shuffled over to an unoccupied table and threw myself into a seat. Gerard and Mikey ordered their drinks, then followed suit, both sitting awkwardly with straight backs. None of us wanted to look at each other, so we took to staring at various objects. I chose to study the grain in the dark wood table.
After a minute or two, Mikey began to fidget, muttering something about helping my mum with the drinks. My mind was begging him not to go, but I kept my lips shut tightly. Once he was out of the way, I felt Gerard’s eyes fall on me. I tried my hardest to avoid his glare, but, painfully slowly, I brought my eyes up to meet his.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, no trace of emotion in his voice. I nervously played with my fingers, digging my nails into my skin while I thought of an excuse. When none came, I dropped my head and nodded.
“Are you going to tell me why?”
I should tell him the truth. It would be easier for everyone if I did, but what would he do? Would he confront Dean? Or would he see it from my point of view and stay silent? I could just lie; say that things are too complicated and we shouldn't see each other anymore. But would I be able to do that? I treasured whatever Gerard and I had - if I lied now, I'd ruin it for good.
Taking a deep breath, I said in a low voice, “Dean knows about us.”
“Dean Stainton?”
I nodded again, expecting Gerard to react, but he stayed silent while he pondered this new information.
“Is he going to tell Ebony?”
“No, but he’s watching us. We can't be seen together, or even look at each other.”
“Why would he keep a secret like this?” Gerard’s voice was still level. I expected him to freak out, much like I did.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he must want something in return, right?”
My eyes widened slightly. How did he figure that out? I definitely couldn't tell Gerard what Dean wanted; he'd been calm and composed up until now, but if he found out...
Instead of trying to make up a lie, I just shrugged, hoping that would be enough.
Gerard sighed, looking at me with - almost frustrated - eyes. “What are his terms, Evie?”
“There aren't any!”
“Don’t lie -”
“Sorry about that!” My mum cut in, carrying a wooden tray upon which our drinks sat, “they ran out of cinnamon, so they had to get another bottle from the store cupboard.”
Gerard eyed me dangerously as my mum handed out our drinks, but didn't say another word on the matter. I winced, knowing I would be in for it later.
I read this a year ago and loved it. Thank you for writing more.
1/25/15