The Time Until (16 page)

Present Day

The music in The Sidetrack is too loud and the
place is too crowded.
 
The lights are
flashing in obnoxious ways and I think I might actually have a seizure from them.
 
Once again, my friends have left me at the
table in order to enjoy themselves on the dance floor.
 
Quentin and Arianna look annoyingly cute
dance together.
 
Ethan looks a little
uncomfortable dancing with the two girls he happened to be dancing near
him.
 
He keeps sneaking glances to the
woman at the bar in the back.

How the hell did I let my friends talk me into
coming here?

I don’t even like to dance.

The music can only provide a momentary distraction
from the murderous thoughts in my head.
 
Stanton was carted off to serve his ‘sentence’ — hah! —
and
all I wanted to do was beat his face into a bloody pulp.

I haven’t told anyone about what happened at the
hospital today.
 
I tell myself it’s
because I don’t want to get their hopes up — like mine were — but the truth is
most likely I just want it to be my and Sam’s little secret.
 
She probably has no idea she even did it and
I’m truthfully being delusional, but I want it to be something between us.
 
It’s something that binds us and connects us.

Maybe it’ll help her find her way back to me.

Wishful thinking.

“Hey, man, what the hell you doing moping back
here?” Quentin asks me as Arianna heads to the bar to get a drink.
 
Ethan walks up behind them, followed by the
two girls.
 
Ethan tries to shoo them away,
but can’t seem to get his point across to them — they obviously can’t take a
hint.
 
He gives me a shrug when he sees
me roll my eyes at them.

“I’m going to go talk to Lauren,” Ethan announces,
completely ignoring his unwanted entourage.
 
I wave my hand at him, giving my silent agreement.
 
He nearly bounces away like a five-year-old
at Disneyland.
 
I almost laugh aloud at
the image and how close it matches the reality.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Quentin
scolds.
 
Arianna walks up with two drinks
and hands one to him.
 
I look at my
half-drunk glass and debate with myself on where to start and how much to tell.

“I’m still a bit pissed about this morning,” I
acknowledge.
 
Quentin must have filled
Arianna in since she’s nodding her head.
 
Quentin just looks at me for a moment.
 
With a sigh, he finally breaks eye contact and takes a drink.

“Maybe tonight was a little too soon for you.”

Finally, he gets it.
 
I’m totally not ready for this kind of
partying.
 
Though getting out of the
house and hospital is a nice feeling, there are entirely too many people around
me right now.
 
It’s a bit
suffocating.
 
I nod my head at him.

“I think so,” I tell him, “I think I’m
gonna
go home for now.”

“Hold on, we’ll come with you.” Arianna starts to
gather up her purse and Quentin starts to head off to tell Ethan.
 
We took two cars since Arianna and Quentin
met Ethan and I here, but I still don’t want them to cut their night short for
me.
 
I was just going to go home and try
to calm myself down.

“You don’t have to leave if you guys still want to
stay,” I tell Arianna.
 
She smiles at me.

“Al,” she says sweetly, “you’re our friend; of
course we’re going to be there for you.”

That makes me feel all fuzzy and warm inside.
 
Quentin comes back
Ethanless
.
 
Ethan drove me here earlier so without him I
have to catch a ride with Quentin and Ari.
 
Not that it’s a bad thing if that happens, just a bit disappointing.

“Ethan says he’s going to walk Lauren to her car
and then meet us in the parking lot,” he explains looking a little upset.
 
I nod my head, knowing all about Lauren.
 
I hope things go well for him.
 
This information also makes me feel better
about leaving.
 
I have his keys so I’ll
just wait in the car for him to be gentlemanly.

“So that’s Lauren?” I ask trying to look over
Quentin’s shoulder.
 
She’s a definite
beauty, a little older than Ethan, maybe about three or four years older.
 
I smile to myself for them.

They look good together.

“Alright,” I finally ask, “ready to go?”

I follow Quentin and Arianna out of the club,
which means passing through the dance floor.
 
We’re about halfway through when someone grabs Ari by the arm and pulls
her to him.
 
He starts grinding and
bumping on her drunkenly.

He has a beer bottle in his hand.

Arianna tells him to leave her alone and even tries
to push him away.
 
He takes it the wrong
way and grabs her hands, suggestively guiding them down his body.
 
Ari looks disgusted.
 
Quentin goes to stop his disgusting display
when the drunk reaches around her and grabs her ass.
 
Arianna squeaks and reacts reflexively.

She puts her steel-toed boot into his groin with
full force.

The drunk drops to the floor and the commotion
stops the dancing in the immediate area.
 
I’m almost rolling on the ground laughing while Quentin has a ‘proud father’
grin across his face.
 
The drunk’s
friends help him up and glare at Ari.
 
She doesn’t even flinch.

“Keep your
drunk
ass
hands to yourself,” she yells.
 
The drunk
groans.

“You bitch!
 
After you obviously asked me to dance with you…” He groans again and
seems on the verge of passing out.

How the hell
is this guy
still allowed in the club?

“Hey!” Quentin takes a step in front of
Arianna.
 
I actually think it’s a little
late for heroics — since she obviously knows how to take care of herself — but
Arianna doesn’t seem upset about the action.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re feeling up.” The
drunk glares at Quentin.

“I don’t see
no
fucking
ring on her finger,” he goads.
“Makes her fair game.”

Arianna scoffs — or hiccups, not sure which.

“Why don’t we just forget this little incident
even happened?” I interject.

“I mean, we’re leaving anyway.”

I don’t know why, but the drunk looks at me and
just swings.
 
I haven’t had a drop of
alcohol all night, so I easily dodge the slow arc and speed of his fist.
 
What I can’t avoid is the drunk’s off center
tumble and flailing arms as he falls to the floor.
 
A lucky shot to me cheek with a random half
fist is enough to send my anger flaring again.

My vision turned white, but I’m mostly in
control.
 
I can stop myself from retaliating
against the drunk.
 
He’s flopping around
on the ground like a fish out of water.
 
It would be funny if I wasn’t angry.

“Let’s go,” I tell Arianna and Quentin. They nod
and follow me out of the club.

I march into the parking lot.
 
I’m full blown pissed at the world right now.

What the hell did I do to that guy to make him
swing at me like that?

I was drawing a blank.
 
I look over at Quentin and Arianna.
 
He’s trying to comfort her after what she
just went through.
 
I try to calm myself,
a few breaths and I’m slowly gaining control of my body again.

Great!
 
Now
my arm is starting to hurt.

“Where the hell did you learn to do that, Ari?” I
ask with a slight laugh as I reach into my pocket for my
Vicodin
.
 
A memory of the drunk dropping to the ground
like a sack of dirty clothes flashes in my mind.
 
I laugh again.
 
Laughing helps with the calming.
 
Arianna smiles evilly.

 
“Sam,” she
says matter-of-factly.
 
There is moment
of silence and then I burst out laughing.
 
I still feel out of it, but the laughter is a good distraction.

I pop a pill in my mouth and swallow.

“Yeah, that’s definitely something you could have
picked up from her.”

A pair of headlights blind me for a second as a
Honda Accord pulls into an empty space a few cars down from us.

We laugh together for few moments before I say my
goodbyes.
 
I give Quentin our traditional
handshake — a few bumps of the fist then a half hug with our connected hands
in-between.
 
I give Ari a friendly hug
and wait until I see them a good distance away before I allow myself drop the
façade I’ve had up all night.
 
I turn to
my car and fumble with the key for a bit, I can’t stop the angry tears fighting
to escape my eyes.
 
I grimace and growl
in frustration when I can’t stop my hands from shaking long enough to get the
key in the hole.

I hear footsteps behind me and I stop, it doesn’t
sound like Ethan’s normal shuffle step and so I start thinking it’s the drunk
and his buddies come back for a second chance.
 
What am I going to do if it is them?
 
I turn to face them and my eyes grow large at the person standing in
front of me.

She smiles when she sees my shocked face.

“So, why do you look like someone just drowned
your cat?”

4 Years Ago (Age 16):
 
August

I have no real feelings about having sex with Katelyn
for the first time.
 
I feel different,
like I’m about to do something wrong, but I choose to ignore that feeling.
 
This can’t be wrong, even if it’s not with
the one I want it to be.

That one is busy elsewhere.

We unceremoniously strip ourselves in
preparation.
 
There is no sexy strip
tease or playful banter.
 
There isn’t
even any sexy dirty talk or crazy sexually frustrating foreplay.
 
It’s just us standing with our backs turned
and stripping as fast as we can.
 
She
jumps into the bed as soon as she finishes before I can turn around so I can’t
see her in her underwear — for some reason I think the sight will be more
erotic than her in a bikini.

I climb into bed with her and position myself
over her.

“Are you sure?” I ask for the umpteenth
time.
 
Despite her willingness, I’m still
extremely nervous about this.

Katelyn nods her head — obviously, just as
nervous as I am — lying on her back on my bed with my covers up to her
neck.
 
This is the reason she came over
today.
 
When I finally suggested it, she
was so excited, now she looks like she’s about to pass out from fear.

Sex is a scary thing.

I want to have sex, but for some reason I can’t
seem to muster enough passion to get into this.
 
But I’m way too much of a guy to pass up something like this.

The feeling of wrongness is getting stronger.

I decide to break the nerves — and possibly
cover this indecent feeling — by starting with something we’ve done numerous
times before, kissing.
 
We’ve done this
so many times that we soon fall into our normal rhythm — fast and furious.
 
Our tongues start their game of tag as we
continue our routine.
 
I remember that
she likes it when I nip her ears and so I break our contact to kiss my way to
her ear slowly.
 
She realizes what I plan
to do and turns her head slightly to give me better access.

Kate groans deep in her chest as I start
sucking on her lobe.
 
Gently alternating
between sucking and biting causes her body to arch into mine.
 
My body acts on its own and traces her
half-naked body with my hand.
 
When the
blanket gets in the way of my exploration, I angrily throw it to the
floor.
 
I stop attacking her ear and prop
myself up to get a better look at her.

Underwear is nothing like a bikini.

There is nothing more erotic than a girl’s
unmentionables.
 
The
soft feel of the cotton — or silk in this case.
 
The sparse use of lace to
make them appear more arousing.
 
The gentle shape wrapping around private parts like a present
waiting to be opened.

The knowledge that only a
chosen few are allowed to see them.

All of these factors make underwear and
lingerie more seductive.

Sensual.

Kate obviously put some thought into her
wardrobe.
 
She’s wearing a red silk bra
with lace on top that doesn’t restrict the cleavage view.
 
Her panties are also silk and red.
 
They cover only the most minimum they are
required to, made mostly of strings.
 
I
definitely like what I see and my body reacts in kind.
 
A small impish smile spreads across my face.

“What?” she asks me playfully.
 
My eyes scan her body again, blatantly enough
for her to notice.
 
She starts to cover
herself slightly.

“My friends helped me,” she tells me shyly,
“they said it would help.”

I nod my head vigorously.

“Oh, it’s helping.
 
It’s helping a lot,” I say and attack her
mouth again.
 
She sighs and moans at the
same time into my mouth and arcs her body towards me again, trying to press as
much flesh as she can onto me.

My hand continues its trek across her body to
its final destination.
 
Gripping her
breast through the soft fabric, I lightly massage it in the cup of my hand.
 
Gradually, I pinch her nipple through the
silk and feel the smooth glide the fabric allows.
 
Kate responds with a loud cry and moan.

She tries to crush her body to mine, gritting
her teeth.

I’m only going through the motions though.
 
These are all things we’ve done before;
there’s nothing new here.
 
It feels good
to have her skin against mine, but it’s just a physical touch.
 
I’m excited and nervous.
 
I do have a reaction to Kate — physical and
feral — but I can’t seem to focus on her and her alone.

I keep thinking about Sam.

Kate reaches into my boxers and grabs me in her
tight grip.
 
Despite the pleasure my body
feels by her action, my mind starts to wonder deeper into my fantasies and
subconscious.
 
My body going into autopilot
and following the lead she’s setting.

Suddenly it’s not Kate in front of me.

It’s Sam.

Everything around us is glowing slightly and I
know somewhere in my mind that this is not real.
 
I don’t care.
 
She starts stroking me gently and I moan loudly at the touch.
 
Crushing our mouths together, I slide my hand
down Sam’s stomach to her core.
 
I
smoothly slip her panties off her hips and then grab the condom on the table by
the bed.

Following the instructions I learned in sex
ed
, I put the condom on and
position myself between her legs.
 
I
pause briefly and look at Kate.
 
I close
my eyes and my mind replaces Kate with Sam once again.
 
The improper feeling dissipates at her image.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, there is a
voice shouting at me to stop.

I’ve chosen to ignore it.

After a few missed approaches, one aborted
entrance — too low — I finally thrust forward.
 
Kate arches her back and screams in both pleasure and pain, my fantasy
gives way to reality.
 
I feel the
pressure of her and the pleasure it affords, but again I feel no joy at the
action.

I actually feel nothing but the lustful
emotions that sex creates.

Sex doesn’t take anywhere nearly as long as
porno makes it out to be.
 
After a few
minutes of bumping and grinding, moaning and crying, we both release — her more
times than I do.
 
Sweat glistens on our
spent bodies and I collapse on her chest in exhaustion, careful to keep enough
pressure on my arms so she can still breathe.

Sex is exhausting.

Kate giggles at me, obviously feeling more pleasure
and contentment than I am.
 
In fact, I
can’t feel anything but a slight satisfaction, relief, and exhaustion.
 
I return her smile out of courtesy.
 
My first time could have gone worse, but it
could have been better as well.

My thoughts move to Sam again.

I’ve given up trying to stop them; it doesn’t
work.

I finally catch my breath and get up.
 
Katelyn is still lying in the bed, lost in
the afterglow.
 
Removing the condom, I
wrap it in a bunch of toilet paper and carefully hide it in the trash can — under
a bunch of trash so casual parents looking in can’t see it.
 
With luck, they’ll miss it completely.
 
I turn, lock the bathroom door and sit on the
toilet seat.

I feel nothing, empty.

The satisfaction is gone and all that remains
is the voice in the back of my head yelling at me, “you idiot!”
 
Reliving the past few minutes in my head, I
start torturing myself with thoughts that Sam has been doing the same thing
with Caleb.
 
I actually imagine it
playing out in front of me like a perverted, torturous, soul-crushing
porno.
 
Knowing how it feels now makes
the fantasy feel all the more real.

My heart literally cracks down the middle.

Tears peak at my eyes but don’t fall.

I cover my face with my hands and try to breath
calming breathes.
 
It doesn’t help
much.
 
I wipe tears from my eyes before
they fall; I’m a total mess.

My first time definitely could have been better.

Present Day

“Katelyn?”
I ask her,
disbelieving my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

She laughs slightly at my reaction.

She looks great.
 
Time has definitely
be
kind to Katelyn
Price.
 
Her dress is tight and the heels
make her look taller than I know she really is.
 
She cut her hair, but it’s still long enough to come to her shoulder blades.

“I heard you were in an accident,” she answers.

“But, Ari and Quentin told me they hadn’t told you
yet.” She looks both confused and amused at the same time.

“You know I have friends here as well, right?” I
admit to myself that I hadn’t thought of that.
 
The accident has been all over the papers and news for days afterward,
our names included.

Comas in this town call for big news.

“Okay, I get that, but why are you
here
?” I point at the ground to indicate
I mean the exact spot we’re in now.

“Well, I stopped by your house to see how you were
doing and
Jenn
told me you were here,” she
explains.
 
I suddenly come to my senses
and realize that I’m grilling her for no reason.
 
I’m glad to see her.
 
Despite how we ended, I’m glad she’s here for
support.

I hope that’s the only reason she’s here.

“I’m so sorry about Sam, Alan, how are you holding
up?” She stares at my eye patch but makes no move to touch it.

“As well as can be expected.”
I adjust my patch a little since I’m still getting used to it. “It’s hard not
being able to drive or play soccer, but I’m trying not to think too much
abou
—”

“Hey, Jackass!” a loud, slurred voice interrupts
me from the bar behind Katelyn.
 
I,
surprisingly, recognize it almost instantly.
 
It’s the drunk and his friends, four strong.

Great, just what I need now.

I have no back up.
 
I know Ethan is on his way from somewhere around here, but Quentin and
Arianna are already in their car and leaving — I think.
 
I grab Kate’s wrist and pull her behind me,
if I’m going to get my ass handed to me then I’m going to at least make sure
it’s for a good reason.
 
I can already
see their leers rake across her body.

“What do you want now?” I ask them in the most
bored voice I can muster.
 
This
apparently agitates them.

“You got us kicked out of the bar!” the
drunk
shouts and I barely understand him.

“Sorry to hear that,” I say sarcastically, “how do
you figure I did that?”

“That bitch behind you kicked me in the balls and
the bouncers say we were causing a scene?
 
That’s bull!” He’s so drunk he can’t even tell the difference between
Arianna and Katelyn.
 
Plus, he called her
a bitch — mistaken identity or not — that makes me start to see red.
 
This guy has been pushing my buttons since
the dance floor and he continues to do so here in the parking lot.

“Still not seeing how this is our problem,” I
raise my eyebrow in curiosity.

“That bitch owes us a little time together,” he
conjectures.
 
My vision goes a little
redder with the second bitch.

I can feel the ball in my chest start to transform
into a chained beast.

“I don’t think that’ll be happening in this
lifetime.” That seems to piss them off.
 
I don’t care – they’re all pissing me off.

“Never a dull moment around you is there Mr.
Green,” Kate jokes behind me.
 
I turn
slightly to smile at her and realize – at the last moment – that was a
mistake.
 
The
drunk
rushes forward and takes a swing at me.
 
He manages to connect with my cheek on my blind side, but the alcohol in
his system saps the strength of the blow.
 
I shake my head to remove the pain and Katelyn gasps.

The drunk recovers quicker than expected and comes
at me again.
 
I’m ready this time and,
instinctively, dodge the blow.
 
I only
grasp how much of a bad idea that is when I notice out the corner of my eye
that Katelyn is right behind me.
 
She
moved to help me after I got hit and I didn’t think about that when I dodged.

The drunk’s fist smashes into her face and she
collapses to the ground.

My vision goes white.

I have to hold myself back, my body rebelling
against my brain.
 
The pain from holding
a rabid beast by a leash is immense and I can feel my muscles flexing,
straining against my minds control.
 
My
teeth are starting to hurt from clenching them together for so long and hard.
 
My brain is screaming at my arms and legs to
stay where they are, but they are straining against the restraints.