We step out into the cool night. Apparently, high altitudes allow for hot days that turn chilly after sunset, and I shiver as we talk under the glow of the lights in the parking lot. With Sam following a few steps behind, I march past the other bands’ buses—they each have two—then the roadies’ buses. Of course, because we arrived so late, our bus is the last in the long line.
“So, what about me?” Sam asks.
I keep moving, don’t turn around to look at him. “What about you?”
“Why did you sleep with me?”
I nearly trip as my body seizes up from a mix of anger and embarrassment, but I force myself to keep my cool. I will not let Sam get to me.
“I told you never to bring that up again. It was a mistake. We both know it.” I reach for the little flap of a door handle. “Alcohol and heartbreak were to blame.” Fuck! The handle doesn’t move, which means the bus is locked. I give the door a quick rap with my knuckles.
Sam grabs my hand to stop my knocking and presses both of our hands against the fiberglass door as he leans forward, his body shadowing mine, so close I can feel his warmth. Although he’s behind me, I catch the scent of whiskey. “So you used me?” he says harshly. His mouth is inches from my ear.
“What are you talking about?” My voice breaks on the last word. I’m nervous about his closeness.
“You and Seth broke up, then you used me to get over him.”
“What?” I gasp and half turn, forcing him to step back a little. “No. It just happened. You know that. Or were you that wasted?”
He releases my hand and moves away. “I know you never considered me as anything more than a friend before that.”
I rap on the door again, and say over my shoulder, “You still can’t be pissed at me about that night.”
“Pissed? No. Aware of what kind of person you are, yes.”
“And what kind of person am I?” I ask, my teeth clenched.
“Self-centered. Bitchy. Stuck up.” His tone is laced with spite.
“Because you think I used you?” I bark, turning to face him. “You are a hypocrite. We go to the same college, asshole. How many coeds have you been with? Even I know some of the girls you’ve slept with.” My tone is spiteful too when I add, “Or shall we say used?”
He glares down at me, his lips tight. “They know what they’re getting into.”
“And you knew how I felt about Seth!” I roar, and start pounding on the door.
At last, the lock rattles from the inside and the door opens. Gary is already going back up the stairs as I step up into the bus. From the bit of interaction I’ve had with him, it has become apparent that he doesn’t consider socializing part of his job.
I turn around. “Good night, Sam,” I say snottily. Then I shut the door in his face.
Chapter 6
The sound of Gary’s faint snores fills the bus as he sleeps on one of the couches in the front room. Meanwhile, even though I set up my bed, brushed my teeth, and took a very quick shower, I can’t fall asleep. Since Sam opened his stupid mouth, my mind can’t stop straying to the past.
To Seth. That name was once elation and pain wrapped in one. I rarely let myself think of him. When I do, I remind myself that everyone has growing pains and difficult passages in life. That’s what Seth was for me, and remembering that fact helps me deal with the memories. He was the first boy who ever chased me, my second kiss—my first had been a sloppy affair after a freshman homecoming dance—and my first boyfriend. Though we went to different high schools, we spent hours texting and talking on the phone. I lived for Saturdays then. Thought about nothing but being with him.
I was euphoric that he wanted me. He was the lead singer of the Bottle Rockets, the popular band that played at all the parties that summer and autumn, and so girls hit on him all the time. When he’d first declared his love, I lived in a haze of teenage hormonal love for months. It was a change to be adored. At the start of high school, I’d been chubby, and the stigma had stayed. No boy in my school had ever shown any interest in me. Seth, on the other hand, treated me like a prize. Bought me flowers. Took me to dinner twice, and serenaded me once. Showed me how sensual kissing could be while being patient with me.
Then, after three months of bliss, everything changed. He became more persistent about sex. It didn’t feel right—I was still too self-conscious about my body—and I became more resistant. Then our conversations turned difficult. He started accusing me of talking behind his back, mocking him to our friends because he couldn’t get me to sleep with him. He even insinuated I was cheating on him, his tone so angry that it set my heart trembling. Still in love, I’d beg forgiveness even though his attacks were based on nothing. Round and round the cycle went for two months. Until the night the whole thing exploded and we broke up, and my choosing Sam’s shoulder to cry on turned out to be the final nail in the coffin, and the intro to six months of rumors and hurt.
I’ve always refused to think of that night. At first it was connected to my desire to bury the Seth breakup, because thinking about it hurt too much. Then, as I started putting the painful episode in the past, it seemed stupid to dredge it up and try to process the whole thing. But now it’s almost four years later and I can’t sleep because Sam’s accusation stings so badly. Did I use him? No. We were both drunk. We both let things go too far. And that’s it.
At least, I always believed so.
Clutching the blanket wrapped around me, I roll over miserably.
Maybe it’s time to face that night, reconsider it now that I’m older, and try to truly move the fuck on. I close my eyes and, for once, don’t block the memories. Instead, I allow my mind to dredge up every painful detail.
Jill was in the farmhouse, partying, and I was outside in the cold winter night, crying. I walked to her parked car, the gravel of the driveway crunching under my feet, then leaned against the side door and sobbed. The smell of cow patties hung in the cool air. The darkness and silence of the winter night was intensified by the lights and laughter coming from inside the house. The full, shining moon created eerie shadows in the apple orchard along one side of the driveway.
Seth was making me crazy. All week, he’d been texting me, calling me, telling me how he couldn’t wait for the weekend, and couldn’t wait to see me, yet within the first hour of my arrival at the party, he’d started slinging his accusations until we were in a full-blown shouting match in the kitchen. It had started with him saying I was a bitch who was holding out on him. At first, I’d tried to reason. But he’d kept it up, heaping on more abuse, not caring that everyone at the party could hear. Finally, something snapped. Instead of taking my usual approach, denying everything and dissolving into hopeless tears, anger rose up in me.
“Seth,” I’d said, “who the hell do you think I’m cheating on you with?”
“Half of the guys at your high school, you slut!” he’d screamed, his face twisted in an ugly sneer.
Something had gone dead in me then. I’d looked him in the eye. “It’s over, Seth,” I’d said. Then I’d run outside before I burst into tears.
I silently pleaded with the universe to send Jill outside. When Seth had started his verbal attack, she’d had been in the living room. Was it possible she hadn’t heard? Then I realized that she might have gone upstairs, hooking up with the guy from college she’d been watching for months. If that was the case, I was going to be out there forever.