Calamity Jane

The drive back home is so awkward that when we pull up to a gas station to use the bathroom and get snacks, Yamilex jumps ship and rides the rest of the way with Taylor. Hector and I sit in complete silence for the greater portion of the two and a half hour drive. Any attempt to turn on the radio is futile, because he immediately turns it off, hoping to talk about what happened the night before.

As far as I am concerned, it was nothing. I don’t like Hector. It was the fever of the beach. It was the waves, the sand, and the smells – not him. Landon is in love with me. I can wait for two years. I don’t love him, but I will be safe with him. No one will love me like Landon does.

Satisfied with this, I ignore Hector, who watches me every second of every mile that we drive. I stare straight ahead, at traffic, determined not to meet his eyes. It’s so hard to not look at someone who is staring at you. I’ve never been able to do it before, but hopefully I can now. I silently curse myself when I realize that he’s offered me a place to stay. I can’t ignore him for eternity. I don’t want to stay with him, but I refuse to stay at my parent’s house any longer. Taylor would be willing to let me stay, but there isn’t any room for me besides on the couch. I have 18 years’ worth of belongings that will need to go somewhere. Hector is my only option now.

As if he’s reading my mind, Hector clears his throat and says, “If you don’t want to live with me, I get it.” He turns away, shakes his head, and mutters, “No one likes me. I’m used to it.”

My heart sinks and I feel really bad. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I can’t be with him. I’m not ready for this. Landon will be back for me.

In two years, a voice tells me. Two whole years.

Anything could happen before then. What if I let it play out? I’m not sure what I want to do, so I put those thoughts away.

“Do you have a suitable movie collection?” I ask abruptly, finally looking at him. I give him a small smile, and out of guilt, I place my right hand on his left hand. He laughs, removes his hand from under my hand, and then places it on top.

“I do have a few good movies… Probably not nearly as many as you though.”

“How many do you think I have?” I watch the road, smirking to myself.

He pauses, and lightly caresses my fingers. “Judging from your previous pale skin, your lack of social life, rocky family relationship and monotonous job, I would estimate that you have at least a thousand movies in your room.”

I laugh out loud and punch his arm playfully. “Well you’re wrong,” I say, glancing at him quickly, “I only have five hundred movies.”

He laughs at me and plays with a strand of my hair. “I have two rooms, one bathroom, a very nice kitchen, living room, and dining room. You can decorate your room however you want.”

I pump my fist in the air as if I’ve won a victory. “Thank you, Hector, this really means a lot.”

He grins. “The first thing we’re going to do is build a fort out of blankets in the living room. We’ll make smores and watch movies as long as we can stay away. I’m going to cook you three meals a day and fatten you up. We can travel places. It’ll be awesome.”

I try to smile or say something, but my throat goes dry.

He’s going to fatten you up, Calamity. He is now enemy number one. Abort.

“I… Don’t need fattening up,” I say quietly, “I’m fat enough now.”

He scoffs and says to me, “Pull over.”

“What?!” I say, looking around me. We’re in a high speed area, not too far from home now. About 30 miles. I’m tired and ready to get some rest. Why does he want to delay us now?

“Just do it,” he orders.

I sigh heavily and check around me to see if anyone is coming. There’s a small restaurant with a large parking lot that I pull off at. Hector impatiently moves the shifter into park, and turns the key off so that we’re sitting in complete silence. Sweat starts to drip down my shirt as soon as the air conditioning is off.

“What is it?” I ask, sighing loudly. I take off my seatbelt and turn towards him, growing more irritated every second. It’s hot, I’m tired, and hungry. I don’t like this.

He grabs my face and stares at me. After a few elongated sighs from me, he takes my arm, lifts my shirt sleeve up and holds it out straight. “Do you see what I see?” he asks.

I shrug. “What do you mean? I see a huge arm that probably weighs more than you so I have no idea how you’re able to pick it up.”

He huffs angrily and wraps his fingers around my upper arm, with plenty of room left. “That is not natural,” he whispers. He gives me a sad look. “You’re too skinny,” he tells me. “If you aren’t sick anymore, and your eating disorder is in the past, then please prove it. Because you look sick to me.”

He’s the enemy. Get rid of him.

“What do you know?” I angrily yank away my arm and turn away from him. I’m shaking.
“I know that you’re a very sad girl and I feel so sorry for you. I want to take the pain away. I want to see you laugh like you did when we were in the water.”

I blink back tears and mutter, “I’m not sad.”

“And I’m the Easter Bunny,” he retorts.

I scoff at this and start the car back up, pulling off without waiting for him to say anything else. Who does he think he is? I’m not sick. That was years ago. Yeah, maybe I was still skinny, but there’s nothing wrong with skinny. Why is everyone always bashing me about my weight? It’d be no different if I weighed a hundred more pounds. Then I’d be too fat. There’s never any winning and it fucking sucks.

He’s silent for the rest of the drive, and for that, I am thankful. When we finally get back into town, about forty-five minutes later, he speaks: “Are we getting your stuff tonight or do you want to go to my place and wait until tomorrow?”

I sigh heavily. I don’t want to see my parents and staying with him doesn’t sound great at the moment, either. But he’s not nearly as bad as my parents. “We can go to your place, I guess,” I finally say.

“Okay, well, pull over here and let me drive us to it then. I’m too tired to give directions.”

“Uhm, you told me it was close to Taylor’s,” I say, pulling over anyways. I’m tired myself. I don’t feel like arguing anymore.

We switch seats and he drives us to his place. It takes less than ten minutes and his place was only five minutes beyond his sister’s place. It’s surprisingly a very nice building. There are neatly trimmed bushes around each corner of the parking lot and vintage looking streetlamps on the sidewalk leading up to the entrance. I laugh, wondering what I expected. I knew little to nothing about this boy, really.

He parks and we get out. I follow him closely, shivering slightly. It’s not even cold. I suppose it’s the sudden change in temperature. He links arms with me, swirling my car keys in his free hand, and humming some unknown song. We walk into the entrance, into a nicely furnished room. There’s a dark red carpet. It’s extremely cool inside. He leads me to the right, where a staircase leads to different floors. When we climb this first flight of steps, he takes me to the elevator and pushes the button for the fourth floor.

His apartment is at the end of the hall. There are six apartments in all on the fourth floor. He releases my arm and pulls out his key. I glance around at the snack and drink machines, which are humming loudly. He chucks, opening the door and flicking on the lights. I let him enter first, staring widely at his apartment. It’s nice, very nice. The living room has a round table in the middle, shaped like the Yin and Yang symbols. It’s the same exact one from Fight Club. He notices me gawking at it and laughs.

“Awesome, right?”

I nod in response and glance around at everything. He has a large bookshelf full of books, movies, and CDs, a nice couch, a large television, and white carpet. “Not expecting this, right?” he asks, laughing. He throws down his bag and goes into the kitchen, digging around in the fridge. I walk down the short hallway. There are four doors.

He peaks around the corner, startling me. “The room to the right is the guest room,” he tells me, “unless of course, if you want to sleep in my room.”

I shake my head, laughing at him. “No thanks, I’m good.” He chuckles and opens the door to the room and turns on the light. It’s a simple room, with a bed, a closet, a dresser, and an elliptical machine. It’ll be perfect for me.

I throw my purse on the bed and fall onto it, yawning heavily. Hector barges in, singing some song I’ve never heard. He plops down on the bed beside me and gives me a huge grin. “Are we having a slumber party and talking about our feelings? Specifically about our conversation last night?”

I roll my eyes at him and push him away. “Nope!” I turn over and curl up on my side.

He chuckles softly and places a fleece blanket over me. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers.

I nod in reply to him. I'm asleep in moments.