Patch Up (18 page)

I turn over and face her. She’s only visible thanks to the moon’s light. She looks exhausted and it’s not from her demanding studies. I know that I’m a source of her anguish. “I’m not sleeping. I thought you had a date,” I answer, my voice flat and devoid of any real interest. It’s not that I don’t care about Kate, but I’m not interested in anything. I’m too wrapped up in some kind of fog. It’s better than the intense moments of hatred I have toward myself. In general, it’s after a Psychology class in which I have to witness Duke completely ignoring me but not ignoring all the leggy girls walking by him.

She sighs and shrugs. She quickly strips off her clothes and puts on an oversized hoodie on which Chicago is written in black bold letters. Nostalgic for her hometown? I can’t blame her; being stuck with a roommate like me for her first year of college is not the best experience. “He was boring. Cute enough, but at one point, even looking at his face—or killer body—was boring, too. I didn’t know that guys in med school could be so annoying.”

“You’ll find someone else.” I turn on my back, my favorite position in bed; gaze lost on the ceiling hidden in the dark and arms stretched along my body.

I hear Kate climb into bed. Maybe I should talk to her more, but I don’t have anything to tell her. After all, my life can be summed up with two words; bed and classes. I don’t even spend as much time on my homework these days, and it’s been going on for two weeks.

“I saw Duke tonight.”

My attention snaps back to her, the fog deserting me. My heart starts beating louder and faster than it has in the last two weeks. My palms are all sweaty and I’m struggling to keep the anger I have with myself at bay. Angry not only because of what I did to push him away, but also because I’m still all over the place whenever I hear his name. Only yesterday I had the raging urge to punch a girl I don’t even know because she was gushing about how sexy he is and how she wanted to lick every inch of his body. I saw red and had to literally run away before I did something I would regret.

“And?” I probe nonchalantly, and for once I sound convincing.

“He was with some blonde girl. They were having a drink at the bar I went to,” she says quietly, apparently expecting a reaction.

In my head I picture a leggy, cute as a button blonde girl laughing and smiling coyly at Duke and I feel sick. I know I’m physically attracted to him, but I don’t want to have a relationship with him even if he were emotionally available. However, knowing that another girl can claim that he’s hers even for an hour or two, it’s more than I can say and that’s what hurts me the most.

“Good for him.” Not so convincing!

Kate sits up to focus on me and I don’t like it at all because right now my mask is slipping and she will see right through me. Duke is the only thing still reaching me through the fog surrounding me.

“You’re being ridiculous. If you care about him, go and see him, talk things out with him!” Her voice is not the soft whisper from earlier. It’s full of edge and she’s annoyed at me—frustrated, too—and I can’t blame her.

“I don’t know what you mean. It’s not like I’m in love with him.”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you’re in lust and you don’t know what to do about it,” she replies smugly. She’s almost scary right now with her messy hair and the look of determination on her face.

“I think you need some sleep,” I say, trying to laugh it off. Turning on my side, I face the wall. It’s safer.

“And you need to get laid.”

I sit straight up and switch on my lamp, blinking several times, my eyes hurting from the sudden brightness after being in the dark so long. I glare at her. “You didn’t just say that.”

She pushes back her covers, gets up, and comes to my bed. Without asking, she sits and puts one of her small delicate hands on my thin shoulder. “I did and it’s the truth.”

“So I need to get laid? That’s your answer for everything, right?”

“Not everything, but in your case it couldn’t hurt. It’s been months since the last time you had sex and it was with an abusive jerk. Duke is an amazing guy with whom you connected right away. I saw how you looked at him. It almost made me blush.”

I chuckle and push her playfully. “Shut up, Kate.” I feel the heat rising in my cheeks and her laughing at me doesn’t help.

“Are you afraid to have a one night stand with him or to have something more?” She’s serious again, obviously determined to get rid of the distance I put between us and help me.

“I’ve never had a one night stand, and it’s Duke we’re talking about.”

“Which means? He’s really, really hot and sweet and sexy and he’s got tattoos! He’s got the perfect bad-boy look going on without the bad attitude. I mean, if you weren’t here I’d have ripped his clothes off by now. And you two are already really close.”

I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. Nobody has ever talked like this with me before and this glimpse into Kate’s mind is ... well, it’s freaking me out to tell the truth. She’s far more open with her sexuality than I’ll ever be. I’m not a prude, I don’t think, but I can’t just say things like she does. Somehow, I’m envious of her openness. She’s so much stronger than me.

“I’d wager that you’ve got more luck with him than I do.” I finally find my voice, but it’s weak and a little sad. I don’t like to feel so sentimental all of a sudden. We’re talking about sex, not about commitment.

“Please, you’re delusional.” She shakes her head and her mouth quirks up. “You should have seen how bored he looked with that girl tonight. I’m not even sure he was listening to anything she was babbling on about. At one point his phone rang and he left her behind without so much as a couple of words and the money for the drinks.”

I lean against the wall and don’t try to hide my little smile at the thought of him leaving her behind in the bar. I know it doesn’t mean that he didn’t go to meet up with another girl, but it’s good nevertheless.

“It’s not only about me being horny, Kate.” I push away some locks that have fallen from the messy bun on top of my head. “I miss my friend and it’s all my own fault.”

She brings her legs to her chest and hugs them. Putting her chin on her knees, she looks at me with an indulgent smile. “You were hurt, Skye. I didn’t know about his girlfriend, but I don’t think you were that out of line. It has more to do with how you expressed it.”

I nod and punch my pillow. It’s better than the wall. “I know. I was being a real bitch and I knew it but I just ... couldn’t stop.”

“You don’t have to explain anything. I’m not judging you, but I lost my friend that day, too. I miss you,” she says in a soft voice. I hear the pain there and I feel guilty because I know I tend to push everybody away whenever I feel bad or down or in pain. I hate it when someone sees me like this and it seems easier to just cut them out. It may be easier at first, but when things get better there’s only a huge mess left behind.

“I’m sorry, Kate.” I can’t look at her. I just feel so ashamed now that the fog has lifted. She knows every awful thing about me and my life and yet she’s still here comforting me and telling me she misses me. I’m not sure I deserve someone like her, not when I feel so lost myself.

“Just don’t shut me out ever again and when you do have sweaty hot and crazy sex with Duke. I want all the details,” she says with mischievousness that makes me laugh a natural husky belly laugh that for once I’m not self-conscious of.

“You are crazy. It will never happen with Duke. If he even talks to me again, it’ll be a big improvement already.”

“But if you—”

“All right!” I cut her mid-sentence with a laugh. “If I sleep with him, I’ll tell you if he’s just as hot without his clothes.”

She squeals and bounces up and down while still sitting on my bed. And then, like these last two weeks never happened, she fills me in on her last three dates, two of which weren’t that bad, and about her latest argument with her father who thinks she’s here just partying and not really studying her ass off so she can join in his firm in a few years.

If this is what it feels like to have a real close girlfriend, then I’m not going to let her slip out of my life. I let Sean have the power to dictate my life by ruining every kind of relationship in my life just because I let him make me believe I’m not worthy. It’s their choice if they want to be friends with me and it must mean something. They are not idiots. It may be too late for Duke, but I won’t torture myself anymore.

*  *  *

The rest of the weekend was good between catching up with my homework and Kate and I devouring two huge pots of ice cream while talking about all the disastrous dates she has had since she started dating at fifteen.

But now it’s Monday and I’m waiting for the TAs and Dr. Dills to walk in. I’m fidgeting and do not feel so calm. I made the decision to go talk to Duke after the class is over to see where we stand and if I have any chance of getting my friend back.

I pretend to be engrossed in a text on my phone when in fact, I’m reading a text Kate sent me half an hour earlier as a pep talk to help me find it in myself to have enough confidence and confront Duke. I already read this text of course, but it’s better to read it again instead of looking like I’m waiting for him by the door.

After reading the same text—of only three lines—for the ninth time, I look up and gape. Duke is walking in. He barely nods to people calling his name or talking to him, and he makes his way to his desk in one corner and he sits. However, it’s not him walking in that made me freeze, it’s his bruised face that did that.

One of his eyes is barely open, too swollen to see anything. The deep purple there leaves nothing to the imagination. Someone punched him in the eye, and his mouth has a deep cut on his upper lip. God, what did he do over the weekend?

Just when I’m about to stand up to go down and ask him what happened, Dr. Dills walks in and almost throws a stack of papers at his TAs while beginning his lecture. It’s going to be a long class and my imagination is running wild. When I see him standing up with a cringe, bringing one of his big, strong hands to his right side, my concern deepens.

“Read chapter nineteen about Anna O., one of Freud’s most well-known patients. Research his other patients, too and don’t forget to use your brains,” Dills says and dismisses our class with an exaggerated wave that I don’t find half as amusing as he does.

I don’t waste another second and turn off my laptop, put it in my bag, and walk to Duke before he even has time to put his notes away. He looks up and his frown accentuates his bruises. We look at each other while the huge room becomes more and more quiet as the last students leave. He’s still on his seat and I’m still standing up in front of his desk. Neither of us break the silence.

My eyes travel to and from his bruised eye and lip and I shiver. It’s going to be a while before it fades. Looking at it is painful on too many levels for me to think about right now when I have to talk to him. But first, I need to know what happened because I know he’s not the kind of guy to get into a fight.

“What happened to you?” I ask, my voice echoing in the large empty room. I look away from him at the hundreds of empty seats and back at him when he doesn’t answer. I put my backpack down at my feet and cross my arms. I won’t leave him alone unless he spills everything now.

He stands up slowly, too slowly to be natural. He’s in a lot of pain obviously and I’m not talking about his face. He’s been beaten pretty badly by the look of it. Maybe someone stole his car, or maybe he was attacked for his wallet. I feel the color draining from my face.

“It’s none of your business,” he snaps and begins to put his notes in his backpack with shaky hands; from pain or anger, I don’t know.

I snort and the sound stops him in his tracks. His dark eyes are not at all welcoming and in that moment, I know I’m in for a new round of arguments instead of making up with him. It makes me sad, but I can’t ignore his bruises and the way he moves so cautiously like he’s got a rib or two cracked. “Like it wasn’t your business when you asked me what happened to me.”

He zips up his backpack but doesn’t move to take it. Instead, his cold glare freezes me to the core. “We were friends then.”

I laugh humorlessly, trying lamely to hide how easy it is to hurt me. He seems to know how to hit me where it hurts and go in for the kill. He’s skilled. “Not at first,” I retort haughtily and let my eyes wander to his ribs on his right side where his striped long-sleeved shirt hides them. “Do you have any cracked ribs?”

He shakes his head and cocks it to the side. “I don’t think so.”

“You didn’t go to the hospital? Are you nuts?” I exclaim. My voice growls loudly in the empty room, making me jump at my own outburst. I’m so not used to being so emotional. It’s even more unsettling after my zombie behavior of the last couple of weeks.

“It was useless. It doesn’t hurt when I breathe and ...” He runs a hand over his well-trimmed goatee and sighs. “I don’t even know why I’m answering you.”

“Show me your right side,” I order stubbornly, my chin high in the air, my eyes steady on his bruised face. My arms are still crossed over my chest with my hands swallowed by my long sleeves.

His eyebrows shoot up, easing the lines between his eyes. “You want me to take my shirt off?”

“You asked me to strip to my underwear once upon a time.”

“Because of your bruises and you make it sound ... I don’t know. Naughty?” His voice is not warm, but it’s slowly losing some of the coldness of the last minutes.