The Story of a Man, A Woman, and the Corpses of 1000 Evil Students

I didn’t sleep soundly that night. I kept waking up in a cold sweat, confused when the ambient lighting from my computer wasn’t lighting up Jessica’s living room. Then I remembered I wasn’t in Jessica’s living room. Jessica had been talking to my ex boyfriend behind my back for some sick reason. I was-I was back in bed with Gerard.

He was draped across me and I felt my heart swell with love, tears pricking at my eyes. I was beyond happy to be back with him but the guilt from leaving him was overwhelming. I checked to make sure he was breathing normally then rolled over onto my side, careful not to untangle myself from his embrace.

The next morning, I tried not to wake him when I got up. The weight of the situation bore down on me as I automatically crossed the kitchen to plug in the coffee machine. It felt good to be back at his apartment. I was watching the brown liquid drip into the glass carafe, my eyes probably glossed over as I was entrapped in my thoughts. We had a serious problem, all of our relationship problems aside. He couldn’t keep doing this. I didn’t know if he would go to therapy even though he’d pushed me to do the same. Maybe I could go with him?

I was jolted from my grocery list of things to worry about by the feeling of arms wrapping around my torso. Gerard pulled me back against his body, burying his face in my neck. I reached up behind me to tousle his hair, resulting in a low purring from him. “I love you.”

Was it okay to say things like that already? I didn’t care. I was going to say it back. “I love you.” I spun around in his embrace and was met with weary eyes still half shut. I rose onto my tiptoes to press my lips against him, the cool sensation of mint tingling my lips. He had gotten up and brushed his teeth already, and I hadn’t even noticed because I had been staring at the coffee pot with a burning intensity, apparently.

“What are we going to do?” Gerard whispered. I didn’t have time to answer because it seemed he changed his mind on wanting to hear the answer; he brought his mouth back down to mine, open, with such intensity I had to take a few staggered steps until I was backed up against his refrigerator. His tongue swirled in my mouth and my head spun, taken by surprise with this impromptu makeout session. He thought he was going to get out of talking about it with sex.
He was right, in a way. Because I had missed him way too much to let a second longer go by with both of us fully clothed. I reached my hand down into his sweatpants, watching his eyes flick up to mine. “Now that’s just playing dirty,” he murmured.

“Who ever said I played any other way?”

We were both in bed, skin against skin, panting and sweating. Kitchen sex wasn’t as great as it had been hyped up to be so of course we ended back up in the bedroom. Gerard was cradling me, slowly running his fingers through the strands of my hair. I could feel his anxiety. Now that he had gone through with that distraction, we had to actually talk. I took a deep breath in to start doing just that, but he cut me off.

“I’m sorry.” His words hung in the air and I filled the emptiness with a long, low sigh.

“I know.” The truth was, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t really know the first steps I was supposed to take.

“You are my world.” I heard him take in a long, shaky breath. “And if you want to move to San Francisco, I’ll move with you. I can apply to some of the colleges around there. Or anywhere you want to go, really. Wherever you are, I want to be.”

We stayed like that for a while, mostly with him running his fingers through my hair and murmuring sweet nothings into my ear. I felt like I had an idea where he was headed with his previous comments, but I didn’t want to press it any further because the fluttering in my chest was threatening to suffocate me in the best way possible.

“Gerard, do you want to move to San Francisco?” I murmured as we cuddled, both of us perching precariously on the edge of a mid-morning siesta.

“As you wish,” he giggled. “It’s from the Princess-”

“I fucking know the Princess Bride.”

“Will you be my Princess Buttercup?” Gerard asked, his blinks getting longer and slower as he yawned.

“Only if you’ll be my Westley. Or my Dread Pirate Roberts, whichever you would prefer.”

“I’m more of a Westley, I think.”

“And I’m more of a Fezzik.”


I woke up and Gerard was gone. His note said he’d gone out to grab groceries since he’d been neglecting them for days. I took this opportunity to clean up his apartment the best I could. I began with compiling all of the canvases scattered around again, placing them in his studio and trying to not linger on the way he drew my cheekbones or the shattered stars in my irises. I did a twice-over with the bleach in the bathroom and resolved to get another shower curtain the next time I was out.

I was finishing with the dishes leaving rust marks in the sink when Gerard came in through the front door, arms heavy with grocery bags. His face lit up when he saw me, as if he was relieved I was still there and hadn’t fled. How could I ever leave him again? How could I have ever left him in the first place?

I must have been more out of my mind than I thought.

“You still have a few hours of light left in the day. You know, you could call one of those therapists that I’ve seen before and they might have some referrals for you,” I began broaching the subject he’d been actively avoiding all day.

“Okay. If you want me to, I will,” he agreed, giving my shoulders a quick squeeze with a free hand before going to unload the groceries from their bags. “So do you have any job offers in San Francisco?”

“I’m in a secondary interview with a photography magazine firm down there. I’m really hoping I get it. And I could start over the summer, they don’t mind waiting until I graduate. It would be so perfect,” I began to uncontrollably gush about it. Gerard looked across the kitchen at me, a satisfied, proud smirk on his lips.

“I’m so happy for you. And I can’t believe I’m standing in my kitchen with you again.”

“You are. Get used to it. Because I’m here to stay. If you’ll have me,” I added quickly, my words sounding stale and outdated. Gerard tossed his head back with a laugh.

“You’re adorable and it breaks my heart.”

I wondered what he meant with those words but didn’t want to press into the matter more. He’d already agreed to going to therapy so that was leaps and bounds ahead of any progress I was wanting to accomplish that day.

From FRANK, 2:44 PM
Hey, how’s he doing?
I had hoped that Frank would talk to Gerard directly, but I’d serve as a messenger for a little while.

To FRANK, 2:46 PM
He’s fine. Went out to get groceries while I cleaned. Talking about therapy.
From FRANK, 2:47 PM
Good, just be sure he actually goes.

To FRANK, 2:48 PM
I know you’re mad with him but I think he gets it by now.
Frank didn’t text me back for a few minutes and I began to worry that I had been out of line in assuming anything about their relationship.

From FRANK, 2:56 PM
Just making sure.
He was probably biting back on something he wanted to say. I left my phone on the counter and went about putting away the groceries Gerard had brought back.

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d want to go out to dinner tonight?” He leaned against the back of the couch and gazed at me from across the kitchen. He was getting more color back in his cheeks and that warmed my heart. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile, mischievous smile.

“Oh dear, Gerard, are you asking me out on a date?” I batted my eyelashes as I crossed my arms across my chest.

“Oh dear, Charlotte, I think I am. Even though you slept with me last night. And this morning. And a few minutes from now,” Gerard cast his eyes up at the ceiling as he couldn’t repress his smile.

“Damn. Missed me that much, did you?” I crossed the kitchen to wrap my arms around his neck and plant a swift kiss on his lips. “But what kind of lady would I be if I slept with you before our dinner tonight?” I watched him visibly deflate.

“Fuck. I guess you’re right. Let’s go to dinner now, then,” he grabbed my hand and turned towards the door.

“You’re funny. But we’re not done cleaning the apartment.”



You don’t always see the curveballs life throws at you. No matter how much you try to expect the unexpected, you can’t win every time. I was beginning to realize this after telling it to myself for years and years. Gerard was staring at my wearily over our candlelit dinner at the Italian restaurant downtown while I was on the phone with my mother. I felt my eyes involuntarily widen, my mouth drop open, my breathing slow to a halt. Gerard perked up when he saw this, frowning and seeming to ask me wordlessly what was wrong.

It was all I could do to not drop my phone into my spaghetti after she told me she was going to be in town in a few hours. I thought I was going to throw up.

“Charlotte? Charlie, are you still there?” My mom’s voiced echoed from my phone. I did not want to see her. Not after the few days I had been through. Not after what she had done to our family and, more importantly, my dad. I was fuming; electricity was surging through my veins and I was in danger of cracking the stem of the glass of wine perched in my other hand. Gerard was simply watching all of this unfold from across the table, his face etched with concern.

“Yes. Sorry, mom, I’m out at dinner with my boyfriend right now,” I said numbly. “I…” my voice trailed off as I watched Gerard’s eyes widen as he brought up his hand to his neck to make a swift cutting motion. What the fuck? I glanced over my shoulder to see who he was making that gesture to, but when I turned back around with a questioning glance to him he simply shrugged it off.

“Well, I’m going to be there soon so get your guest room ready!” Her voice chirped.

“Mom. We don’t have a guest room. We live in a one bedroom apartment.” Fuck. I was so angry. “There’s plenty of hotels downtown, and we only live ten minutes away. Tell me again why you didn’t call ahead?” I wasn’t doing a good job of hiding the irritation in my voice and I knew it; I couldn’t be bothered at this point.

“Charlotte. Where are we going to stay? We have been planning on surprising you-”

“Excuse me, we? Who is ‘we’?” I snapped, interrupting her. Gerard had gotten up and excused himself to the bathroom while my face grow warmer.

“Carl is coming.”

I took a deep breath, resting my thumb and index finger against the bridge of my nose. I was going to fucking kill something.

“Mom, I need to get back to dinner. Make yourself a hotel reservation at the Lilac Inn downtown. They have good rates. Let me know when you get in and I will come get you.”

“I wanted to surprise you for your graduation!” She exclaimed, a false happiness in her voice. Somewhere deep in my chest something shattered and I was on the verge of tears.

“Mom. My graduation isn’t for another two months,” I said softly. I couldn’t be mad at her; she was obviously losing her mind.

“Oh. I know that. We just, wanted to say hi. I’ll let you know when we land. Love you baby.” She hung up and tears hung at the corners of my eyelids, off my eyelashes. I looked down at the pasta on my plate; suddenly, the idea of food was abominable. I wasn’t sure if my mom was high, drunk, or on a steady mental decline. I had never been able to tell with her.

She was the main subject of my rants in therapy.

Gerard sat back down across the table from me, his fists clenched. “I’m sorry about that. It was my mom. Her and her boyfriend have decided to surprise us with their presence for a week.”

“Ooh, when?” Gerard forced a smile, visibly uncomfortable by this news. I reached for his hands across the table, trying to fish them open so I could interlace our fingers, but his hands wouldn’t budge.

“Tonight.” I wiggled my fingers into his palm, watching his face blanch, devoid of all color. “What’s in your...hand,” my voice trailed off into a broken whisper as my fingertip brushes the unmistakable feel of velvet. “Gerard, what is in your hand.” It was more of a demand than a question. I watched his eyes dart to somebody behind me, then back on me, his gaze softening. He stood up, withdrawing his hands from mine, and I couldn’t breathe all over again.

It was as if I had tunnel vision. Nothing else mattered but the look on his face as he walked around the table to where I was sitting, resting his left hand on my knee as he sunk to his own. My bottom lip trembled dangerously and I forced a swallow down my throat, which had suddenly become dry. He nervously flicked his crimson hair out of his eyes and looked up at me, his mouth opening and shutting several times.

“Charlotte Payn, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Maybe that’s a cliche thing to say, but after this past week, I have never been more certain of something in my entire life. You make me laugh when I feel like crying, and you hold me when I think I’m dying. You’re out of this world beautiful, and you’re one of the most talented photographers I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching and I thank Frank everyday for taking over that class so I could smoke with you on that drainage pipe. Charlotte, I’m not going to tell you what’s in my hand. Partly because you already know, but mostly because I’m going to show you.”

After he finished talking and with silent tears streaming down my face, he popped open the small, ebony velvet box he held precariously between his slender fingers. A black diamond engagement ring nestled in red satin gleamed up at me.

“Charlie, will you be my wife?”

Notes