Clouds In My Coffee (7 page)

I sigh and nod. He’s right. “I know,” I reply softly. “If I had it to do over again...”

I don’t finish the thought. It sounds so pathetic.

“What would you do?” he asks softly. He’s standing close to me now, looking at me with those soulful eyes, waiting for an answer.

“You know,” I reply, feeling like an idiot.

“Say it.”

Yeah, he’s making me squirm, and when I say it, will he throw it right back in my face? I figure if he does, I have it coming to me anyway. “I wouldn’t have broken things off with you.”

I can’t face him once the words are out. My eyes are downcast, as I brace myself for his response.

I feel his arms around me, pulling me up against his hard chest, his chin resting lightly on the top of my head, as he presses me against him, slowly rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I’ve missed you,” he replies softly. “I’ve missed the hell outta you.” He pulls back just a bit, his fingers tilting my chin upward and our eyes locking into a searching gaze.

“But what about Angie?” I ask.

“She’s not you,” he replies. “She’s just not you.”

His lips capture mine softly, but firmly, and my hands tangle in his dark hair, fisting his face even closer. His tongue is teasing mine and this feels so right. So natural. This is the way it’s supposed to be.

Our kiss is interrupted by the peeling sound of tires as a car engine revs up loudly. We look up in time to see Marshall’s new Z28 careening around the curve of the road towards us. He must’ve been stopped at the corner, watching us.

Erik shoves me behind him as the car nearly grazes me when he races by. At the end of the cul-de-sac, the sound of tires squealing can be heard as Marshall circles around, heading back our way.

“Get up on the porch,” Erik orders me. “I’ll deal with the mother fucker.”

I scurry away, turning back to make sure he doesn’t run Erik down during this pass by. Marshall brings his sports car to a screeching halt, barely waiting until he has put it in park before jumping out and lunging at Erik.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing here in my own front yard!

Marshall is tearing into Erik and, with his athletic build and stamina, I’m screaming for him to leave.

But Erik suddenly turns the tables, pushing Marshall off and then rolling over on top, straddling him, while his fists pummel our star quarterback’s All-American face, over and over again.

“Erik! Stop!”

That shrieking voice is coming from me. Everything appears as if it’s happening in slow motion. I never could’ve imagined Erik having such anger, such violence inside of him.

“You fucking asshole! You think you can push chicks around, huh? You’re a waste of humanity!”

Finally, Erik lifts himself off and gives Marshall one swift kick in the ribs, before staggering away towards me. “Come on,” he says, wiping some blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I want you inside, now.”

I hurry inside as Erik turns back around and addresses Marshall who’s picking himself up off the ground, “I don’t want to catch your sorry ass near her again, Rydell. You leave her alone. She’s not gonna be another one of your...
victims.
”

Marshall glances up at both of us as he brushes the dirt and leaves from the sleeves of his coveted varsity letter jacket. He gives us an evil glare. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with, Laughlin,” he says with a sneer. “But you’ll learn soon enough.”

Erik has already turned his back to him and follows me inside. I slam and lock the door. He quirks a brow at me.

“Are you scared of him?”

“No,” I say quickly, not wanting him to think that he isn’t capable of protecting me because he just proved otherwise outside.

“Well, maybe you should be,” he replies, going into the kitchen and grabbing a paper towel. He wets it at the sink, squeezing the excess water out of it and pats it against his bottom lip. “Mother fucker got me with his fucking class ring,” he says.

“Looks like maybe you got the best of him though,” I reply softly. “I never would’ve thought...”

And I don’t finish it because it wouldn’t come out right I realize.

“What?” he asks, “Never thought I could hold my own with some arrogant jock? I’m not a pussy, Cece.”

“I know that,” I reply quickly. “You’ve just always been more of a pacifist,” I clarify. “You know, peace-out and all that good stuff?”

“Yeah, well that son-of-a-bitch is another story.”

“Why did you say I should be scared?”

He tosses the paper towel into the trashcan and looks at me, his expression is serious. “Because of something Angie told me. I didn’t actually believe it until I saw him in action with you the other night.”

I sit on the sofa, pulling a leg up underneath me. “Are you talking about...sex?” I ask.

“No. I’m talking about more than that. I’m talking about forcing himself on a chick.”

My eyes widen, and I can feel my jaw drop with those words. “What? I mean...no, he’s never...”

“Look, I’m not trying to get into your mix, here. All I know is what Angie shared with me, and maybe it’s the truth, maybe it isn’t, but when I saw him tossing you around like a rag doll Sunday morning, it seemed like maybe you’re in over your head with him.”

I’m quiet for a moment. “It’s not that he hasn’t, uh...tried, it’s just that I didn’t let him get that far.”

“Yeah? Well I’m thinking now that maybe it was only a matter of time before he would’ve forced you to go that far.”

“Is that what Angie told you? She...uh, she didn’t
want
to do it? I mean, if that’s the case, why didn’t she report it?”

He sinks down on the sofa next to me, and runs a hand through his thick hair. “Well, she said they’d done it lots of times and it was consensual, you know?”

I nod and wait.

“And then I guess they got into some big ass argument last spring, and she broke things off.”

“She?” I interrupt.

“Yes,
she
broke things off. So, Rydell starts spreading shit about her, gets his jock friends to help and then goes to her house one evening and asks her if she’s tired of being on everyone’s shit list.”

Oh my God.

“She kinda lets her guard down, ya know? She doesn’t want things to be fucked up, so she tries to smooth things over. They take a drive...just to talk things out. He drives up to Mount Ogden—his family has a huge log cabin there. I guess that’s where he used to take her when they wanted to be alone. He tells her he just wants to talk, that’s all. She thinks things are going well, that he gets the picture and that they can still be friends.”

Erik stops talking for a moment, and I can tell the next part is going to be ugly.

“He starts coming on to her at the cabin. Says he wants to make love with her one last time. She tells him no, but he persists. Suddenly, she doesn’t have a choice. He forced himself on her.”

“Why didn’t she report it?” I ask, feeling a bit dubious.

“She said it was because he told her that no one would believe her. They’ve got money, status, prestige—what does Angie have, huh? Her dad works for the railroad and her mom is a checker at the grocery store. Get real.”

“I still would’ve reported it, I mean, if it had happened to me.”

Erik ignores my statement and continues, “Anyway, he acts like it’s no biggie afterwards, like they’re still together. When she threatens to tell her parents what he’s done if he doesn’t leave her alone, he laughs in her face. But he does leave her alone. He makes sure that everyone at school hears his version; that he broke up with her because she was a slut or something, and then makes sure she doesn’t make cheerleader, and then he moves on...to
you.
”

I swallow nervously, my skin goose bumps for some reason. “If all that’s true, why didn’t you warn me about him before now? Were you willing to have him do that to me?”

“Because I told you, I
wasn’t
sure it was the truth. People
do
say shit about each other when they break up. That’s human nature. And maybe part of me was like you—wondering why she
didn’t
report it. I guess I believe her now.”

I sink back against him, collecting my thoughts. “Do you think he’ll leave me alone?” I ask quietly.

“I’m not gonna lie, Cece. You need to watch yourself. I’ll be there as much as I can, but I can’t watch you every minute of every day.”

“I would expect Angie wouldn’t like that very much at all.”

“She and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

My heart skips a beat at the news.

I haven’t seen her around lately, but then again, Erik isn’t one to want a chick hanging around him like a noose. I know that much from my years of being his friend/girlfriend/whatever.

“I’m sorry,” I lie.

He grins and I admire his dimple. “You’re a liar, too.”

I snuggle against him, laughing. “I guess I’m not sorry. I do have a question though?”

“God, I know
what
it is already.”

“Well?”

He breathes a heavy sigh. “I’m a dude, Cece.”

“I guess that means you screwed her. Far-fucking-out, Erik.” I push away from him, feeling somehow betrayed even though I’m the one that made it what it is. I’m the one to blame that it wasn’t me.

I get off the sofa and go to the kitchen to grab a soda, asking Erik if he wants one. He declines and I can tell he’s pissed.

“Can we talk about this, please?”

“What’s there to talk about? Dudes have needs. I get it. I heard the same whining from Marshall.”

He stands up, thoroughly angry with me. It’s my own fault, I keep repeating in my head. “I’m sorry if you’re hurt by that, Cece, but come on; you were the one that ended things. Don’t you think I would’ve rather it had been
you?”

I look up at him and see that he’s being honest and sincere. I need to be the same. “I know that what you’re saying makes sense. And I know that I have only myself to blame for what you...did with Angie. I won’t lie, it does hurt, but it’s not your fault that it hurts. It’s mine. I own it.”

He pulls me to him, and brushes the hair out of my face so that he can really look at me. His eyes search mine. He sees them brimming, but I’m willing my tear ducts to not let them out.

My tear ducts win.

“Don’t cry, Cece,” he soothes. “Please?”

I nod, sniffling against him.

“Are we back together?” I ask meekly.

“I dunno. Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” I squeak out. “I love you, Erik.”

“I guess I never stopped loving you, Cece.”

Erik stays with me until Mom gets home and, let me tell you, she is none too pleased to see him with me.

“What’s this all about?” she asks, once he’s left to go home. She’s grabbing a beer from the fridge and lighting up a cigarette. This is her after-work mellow-out time.

“Mom, I think I need to talk to you. You need to know what happened.”

Later, in the comfort and privacy of my room, I pull my diary out of Pierre and begin scribbling:

October 22, 1973

Dear Diary,

You’re never gonna believe what happened this afternoon…

And then I write everything down—every last detail because something inside of me tells me that it’s the right thing to do.

Things have quieted down just a bit since late October. There have been a few occasions where I thought I’ve heard Marshall’s car go by late at night.

On my way out to my car after cheerleading practice, I can see that someone has put a black rose underneath the windshield wiper of my VW bug. My eyes lower to the front driver’s side tire. It’s flat. I go back inside the school and call Mom; she says she’ll send Erik to help me.

Imagine that?

He arrives quickly.

Within minutes.

“You know who did this, don’t you?” he asks, getting the spare out of the trunk. It’s early December and the winter chill and wet sleet have made it particularly nasty to be out, not to mention it’s now getting dark.

“I can’t prove it,” I reply, “and I’m sure no one saw anything. Not that they’d tell me since no one seems to be talking to me these days.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he replies. “What about Kim?”

“She’s the worst,” I reply, shaking my head. “We’ve been friends since fifth grade. I can’t believe it. She says Keith forbade her to associate with me. I guess the rest of the cheerleaders feel the same way.”