Metamorphosis

"I really feel like football is the downfall of this school," Taylor stated with a mouth full of disdain and dressed lettuce. Christine and I nodded in agreement, feeling the urge of a debate fresh on my tongue.

Christine and Taylor were my two best girl friends, and every day in the cafeteria was treated like an auditorium in full swing starring the cast of The View. Our topics ranged from the power pyramid at our school to wondering why there was not a special interests group for students who had an obsession with knitting. The vocabulary and reasoning we implemented for our various arguments, however, was not as upscale as we envisioned it to be.

"If by 'downfall' you mean a dick-sucking contest between all the biggest fags on campus, then I totally agree."

That was Zach, another friend of mine who happened to be a guy and who happened to join in on our 'intelligent' conversations because he happened to be Ben's best friend. He also happened to be completely raunchy and with no tact whatsoever. We had all come to tolerate him, though, considering Ben was my boyfriend and he had two arms. One I could hold hands with and the other to bro fist Zach with wherever he went. Then Christine and Taylor would walk on my opposite side, linking arms and smiling like the sisters they acted. That was the dynamic of our complicated friendship. A solar system that revolved around one sun: me.

I met Taylor and Christine back in eighth grade, where we all had the same Art class. Neither of us had any interest in slathering paint on paper nor any fascination with some weirdo who cut his ear off for the prostitute he fell in love with, so only a few bold statements between the three of us were exchanged before we had bonded. We hated the same things and giggled over our similar celebrity crushes, just like any other middle school girl would. Then we grew up and stayed close ever since, jumping from multiple boyfriends and other shallow cliques that held no real water like ours had. Then I got with Ben and Zach was part of the package, considering they had been friends since their childhood. Even though I had no real taste for him, even as just a friend, Ben loved him like a brother so I had to play the sister-in-law.

Out of context, Zach winked at me, shameless and unaware of the consequences he could endure. I liked that in men, so I returned it with a sly smile. The others were off in their own world of tearing down everything and everyone associated with football, and in a way, I was in my own world too. Nothing mattered but my own hobby of a quest in seeking sexual approval in places where it could be considered taboo or sleazy. That was one of the elements that contributed to our social circle's foundation; I was not naive and humble enough to deny it. The niche the five of us and a few others shared was one that turned us into some low-key, exclusive set of royalty that the majority of the student body either detested or envied. Or the first was a direct link to the last. Just because we were bold enough to express ourselves and our opinions with charm immediately had us placed on a pedestal that we never wanted to step down from. There were too many benefits. I myself discovered that when I hung around Christine, Ben, Zach, Taylor, or select others, I was looked at differently. Even on my own I was stared at in a way that made me feel exposed and as though my actions could impact others. Infamous or recognized... more people saw me as leaning toward the former. Rumors made sure of that.

Josh enters the lunch room, a drink held in one hand as a burrito clenched in the other, and he looked around. Anyone else would say for certain that he was trying to find a spot to sit with his undesirable friends, but I could swipe those thoughts clean and say with confidence that he was searching for me. He had called three times before I had made it to school and texted once with "Where are you?"

I did not answer.

He probably assumed that I was embarrassed over what had happened the day before in his beat up car where he had been pounding me. Really though, I was anything but. I had gotten what I wanted and I needed to put some distance between us for things to smooth over. For him to put his initial feelings behind him. Besides our everlasting friendship, all that was between us was layers of sweat and the steady rhythm and beat of sex. That was enough for me but he would need more. I had to be the assertive one and ignore him for his own good or else our relationship would get messy, sticking with the most difficult of glue. He would hate me for it, but later, he would thank me. He had to.

Not that I missed him too much anyway. Sure, we had been good friends for over a decade of our lives, but reaching such a tremendous milestone had me appreciating it as much as I appreciated the air I breathed or the moments I woke up from a sleeping spell; I took it all for granted because those things were not going anywhere anytime soon. Josh would always be there for me no matter what I did, that was how it had always been. We could not stray too far from each other if we tried, with him being mates with my brother and all. We had intervals of privacy and separation from each other, and it just so happened that it was my turn.

I averted my attention back to Ben, my boyfriend, and smiled sweetly at him. He glanced at me and returned it, slipping his fingers between mine as he did. He was someone I had to pay the most attention to and secure the balance of our connection or else it would surely be lost forever. Even while my sexual impulses had to be kept under wraps from him, I still found myself growing quite fond of him. He did not treat me like a child that he had to guide like the other guys I was with in the past; he held me up as a trophy to show off. And while many women would frown upon such a shallow commitment, I found it a relief. We were our own people outside of our relationship and I was not attaching myself too closely. That would be too weak of a thing to do. But I liked being around him, and he felt the same, so it was enough for the both of us.

Soon, lunch was over. The bell had rang and everyone had risen from their seats like fresh zombies with a new thirst for blood. One quick glimpse at Josh had me chuckling to myself, for he looked from his spot and shook his head at the high ceiling, obviously cursing it to his friends' delight. The good friends of his that I should have known the names of but every time I tried to remember, it had slipped my mind. He was only sitting for two minutes with a fourth of his burrito in his stomach before the 30 minute lunch period was brought to a dissatisfying end.

While he appeared to be grunting and throwing down his food in a pissed off manner, I grabbed my things and left the remains of my meal on the table for the janitors to clean up. I never felt terrible about it considering leaving my trash left them employed and with a decent paycheck, so I continued my habit and my friends followed, strutting away from our table with excitement towards the thought of mingling with our other friends in class.

Ben wrapped his arm around my waist, and I smirked. I knew that Josh would be searching for me and the image of him seeing us together was somewhat tragic, but for me, it was a good play. He would be reminded that I was taken and that him and I had nothing except a memory of sex, alleviating the situation between us drastically. To make sure my plan was working, I glanced past my shoulder in his direction only to be met with his blue eyes that had saddened. I kept walking without a second thought.

The rest of the school day was a boring blur. I had novels worth of homework crammed into my book bag and Ben had to leave right after the final bell rang because he had wrestling practice. A crucial tournament was on its way and he and the rest of his team had to prepare their bodies to grasp the gold, something that was highly important to him that I stood on the sidelines for. I had never involved myself in between him and the other love of his life because I had my own loves to look after.

I drove down the street my house sat on, ignoring the brightly glowing highlights mother nature never ceased showing off. The beauty of the season was starting to feel over saturated to me, and all I wanted out of the weather was an outpouring of rain to drown it, petal by petal. To paint the sky black for at least twelve hours so I could breathe.
As I approached my house, imprinted in beige stucco and surrounded by more fake colored grass, I turned off my car and sped to the front door to lock myself in a more comfortable aura of artificial lighting. Once inside, my ears were met with the sporadic sounds of shooting, running, and blood curdling screams.

I jumped at the sight, then rolled my eyes as my brother Casey threw his controller down on the opposite side of our wrap around couch, cursing as the Call Of Duty menu popped up on the screen. "You goddamn cunt! If I see you again I'm slamming the butt of my gun into your throat!"

"You're not gonna do shit you idiot, now turn it down. My head is starting to throb," I mumbled in a monotone.

He glanced over in my direction and ignored my request, then insulted it by grabbing the remote to turn up the volume. I groaned in annoyance and marched up the stairs, stomping harder with every chuckle that arose from his mouth.

My brother and I had the kind of relationship that was presented itself as being enemies 75% of the time, and adoring best friends the other 25%. He was older than me, and ever since we were kids he never let me forget it. He then morphed into a parental guardian of sorts when we were young teens, taking care of me and providing in a housewife kind of way when my father was out working late winning bread for our family. I loved them both, but sometimes I felt like the only way to relieve myself from sibling related stress was to just punch Casey in the balls and be done with it. That was the mentality I had been branded by since living with two men, and it gave me a short fuse and an iron fist.

Across the staircase laid my messy chamber, no doubt smelling of dirty laundry and stale linen scented candles. I entered and immediately threw my bag onto the floor, my paperwork from all my classes spilling out because I had chucked it from the absolute wrong angle. Life had a slapstick way of showing it encompassed a sense of humor.
Falling flat onto my bed, I let my eyes close for a moment, and then flutter open again. I was tired and drained, almost on edge. I knew he would be coming over at any moment. In one breath I could be greeted by the sound of his voice conversing with my brother; in another sense his feet leading him up the stairs to approach me. I was not scared, I was just lazy and dreading a conflict. And right as the thought creeped up on me, the front door had shut and Casey cheered Josh's name, to whom laughed lightly.

I cursed my mind powers and tried to come up with a way to act like I had not spent one moment pondering over his arrival. I was detaching myself from the ordeal, no matter the cost. So I quickly reached for the remote as I heard him ask my brother if I was home, who of course said I was upstairs getting over my 'little headache'. My heart raced as I struggled to find the power button, and then I had the idea of hiding so that he would not find me, then move on to the next room to search, giving me enough time to climb out of my window and escape.
That was the headache talking.

He knocked on the door, and I was left trapped with no other alternatives. Unwillingly, I called him in. His fingers wrapped around the wood of the frame, and when our eyes met, mine dull and his full of hope, he smiled a tad and whispered, "Hey."

"Hey."

My reply was cold and devoid of emotion, but it did not wipe the happiness present on his features. Happiness because he was finally seeing me again, alone, without Ben or anyone else in his way. The last time that had occurred was the day before in his car, him hovering over me with ragged breathing. He came in completely and awkwardly shut the door behind him and gave me a shy wave with a laugh that was only comedic to him.
'Poor kid', my mind uttered.

I watched as he took a seat at the foot of my bed and began rubbing his hands together, ready to start a fire in my goddamn bedroom. He wanted to say something; he wanted to begin the unavoidable conversation over what happened a mere 24 hours before when I hit my orgasm. I wanted to ignore his pathetic attempt, so I did.

"So uh, how are you?"

I changed the channel.

"Are you okay?"

I turned up the volume, and at that he stumbled with his words, feeling overpowered by my lack of interest. His throat rose and fell as he swallowed and adjusted his hair, trying to become comfortable with me.

"I tried calling and texting, but you never answered. I was worried about you."

"Scoot over, I can't see the TV."

"Do you think you could turn that off for one second?"

His voice was frustrated, but below that layer, it was hostile. He was allowing his bitter anger over the day before to flare warningly. A preview for the wave of animosity I was sure to endure soon after. I did not take well to a tone like that towards me, no matter if he was in the right.

I shook my head and spat,
"Why don't you stop acting weird around me. You're acting like a little boy."

He blinked and let his jaw drop very slowly, halting his mental processing. He gaped at my harsh comment, trying to let the words he wanted to use spittle from of his out-of-order mouth. He really was the little boy I had claimed him to be, so vulnerable and scared and not even being able to say something to test out my dangerously adamant waters. I was not making it any easier for him by keeping a stern look of disapproval, and what he asked next had me highly annoyed.

"But. Was I...was I good enough to be your first?"

His presence of weakness had set me off, and I upstaged his immature behavior by slamming my fist on the bed and replying caustically, "Oh god, if I knew you'd be like this I would have never asked you in the first place."

I could not bring my mind to face the exhausting rants of Josh's feelings at the time, so I decided to take a step further and get up from my bed to move ten steps to my door, where I held it in my tight grip with strict intentions to slam it behind me. He was too alert however, and before the frame and the wood could collide, he stopped it with his hand. I growled in failure and pushed him away, stomping past him to climb dramatically back onto my sheets and watch television.

"I told you it was a bad idea because I knew how things would change between us."

"Oh please stop trying to be the voice of reason. Why did you even bring it up?"

He peered at me in confusion while almost whispering,
"What? Us having sex?"

He could not bring himself to say it at a normal volume, either for fear of Casey or my father hearing him, or because he was uncomfortable with the reality that it had taken place. That it was not a dream or fantasy. That made him less attractive to me; I wanted a man to scream from the rooftops, in victory, that he had sex with me without caring about who could be listening. I wanted Josh to be daring and bad. I wanted Josh to wake up and be the confident guy he always presented himself to be. Was it fake? Was it all a show until things finally went to the next level and he had to peel back his skin for someone to see?
Was he really as scared as he made himself out not to be?
Was he just an insecure child on the inside that had taken me 17 years to uncover?

I looked at him, unamused by his wasteful question. He then reiterated, "Don't you feel any different? Aren't you going through some type of huge change?"

I take myself back to how I felt the first time I had sex. I was numb, confused, and most of all, empty. I thought my body was dirty and could never been stripped clean. I made myself out to be a pariah that could not come in contact with anyone or else they would find out what I had done, as though they could smell it on me. I stared at Josh, who was staring at me like he was the one to make me feel that way again. Like he was the one to corrupt me and turn me into a woman. Who brought me to the next phase in my life from adolescent to adulthood. It was a foreign frame of mind, but I put on the show like it was my first time. Like a newly evaporating virgin.

"I just...feel dirty. Not something I really want to elaborate on."

He nods, completely understanding and once again buying into my bullshit.
I sat, waiting for him to say something masculine. Anything at all that would prove to me that his balls had not shriveled up and vanished into his crotch. Instead, I was slammed with the unsatisfying reality that the gender roles had been shaken up to the point that they had reversed and corroded on themselves. I was not the feminine Ivy and he was not the manly Josh. I had become stronger in my desires that only had eyes for sexual explorations and he was getting in touch with the estrogen inside. It was a culture shock. I was driven to wonder if our friendship had hit a dry patch, or more of a drought stricken wasteland that held no end in sight. We were just two people who had gotten used to the idea of the others company for so long that it had become second nature.

Perhaps our entire friendship was built to lead up to the moment where I would only use him to get laid, then I could toss him aside. The first time we met and became sidekicks was based on him being an asshole to me, then me returning the favor by sending him to the hospital. I respected our ability to be honest and sarcastic, but the new Josh who proved that he had deep feelings and was actually a softy had me cringing in disdain and disappointment. My perception of him was changing in an instant.

"Are you mad at me?"
He asked softly.

I laughed with a dry throat.

"You know what Josh," I said with an eye roll. "I told you not to take it seriously, and now what are you doing? You're a lovesick dog. Why can't you just move on and pretend it never happened?"

His eyes remain innocent and stroll into hurt territory. So pathetically powerless.
"Is that what you really want?"

"Of course it is."

"You're just going to use me like that and say it wasn't important or meaningful in any way?"

With the piling frustration falling on me, I managed to find a kind hay in the stack and nod my head with a solemn expression forced on my face to make him believe that the decision was hurting me as much as it was him. He did not appreciate it; he gawked at me like he would a ludicrous stranger, perplexed.

He thought he had me figured out the day before when he saw me as fragile and revealed.
Unfortunately and unknowingly to him I had been more disguised than I ever had before. I had used him, and he let me. And then he had the nerve to ask for more than a friendship in a cowardly and unclear way after I told him that it was not a choice placed on the table. I was meticulous and precise in my strategy to get what I wanted from Josh. I had been a step ahead of him the entire time, letting him convince himself that he was in first place and welcoming me into the realms of physical intimacy. The punchline was that he still had not caught on.

"You knew what you were getting yourself into and you still accepted my terms. You have no reason to be upset."

"It's kind of hard to say 'no' when you of all people put the moves on me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come off it, you know what I'm talking about."

My eyes blew their brains out in my skull, and I shook my head violently. His balls had dropped and his strength was restored in the slightest.

"Oh god, no. You can't be serious. You can't be admitting that you like me."

Josh sat silently, twiddling his thumbs. Another climax had arrived in our fucked up relationship and it was about to go downhill. His eyebrows softened as he glanced up at me, the scar on his forehead caused by me when we were younger gleaming in the light reflecting from my window.

"I've been trying to find a way to tell you, but I kept backing out because I thought you wouldn't feel the same. But then yesterday, well...I thought you did."

I was backed into a corner and I had to make a quick decision. Did I let him off easy or cut the ties right then and there? If I was too nice, he could gain hope later on that I would eventually realize my love for him and we would be together. Something that was never going to see the sun, prolonging the hurt. Or I could be cold and make myself out to be unforgivable and he would never want anything to do with me. For awhile at least until he would come back. Josh would always be there for me no matter what I did, that was how it had always been.

With a authoritative voice I said coolly,
"I just wanted to have sex with someone I could trust. Unfortunately you were the only one."

"Unfortunately? Really Ivy?"

"Jesus Christ, you weren't my first choice because I knew how you felt about me."

"Oh, so you knew I liked you and you still used me? Because you knew I wouldn't say no?"

I had been nodding too much as an answer to his questions, so I just shut my mouth and let him think what he wanted to think. And to my reluctant liking, he swallowed hard and blinked, completely shot down. He scratched the top of his head like a little boy who was told no, fishing for sympathy.

"I didn't mean for it to happen like that," I lied.
"I just wanted Ben to still like me."

That was Josh's final straw and stab in the heart. With a furious passion, he rose from his spot on the bed as though he were never there and took a few steps back to look at my entire body, trying to decipher the code I possessed that caused him to gain a crush on me. When he came up empty, he seethed,
"What a fucked up thing to do to me, Ivy."

And in a blink, he was at my door. The door that led out to the hallway out of my room, and ultimately, the door that would lead him out of my life for an unknown amount of time. He grasped the handle in the tight hold of his fingers and glared at them, his stance welding into place, unable to move. He was unfinished and I was watching with deer and headlights in my eyes.

His mouth opened and closed, until he finally finished with, "And the worst part is you don't give a shit."

The piercing blow of the door slamming shut would have been enough to send anyone over the edge. It would have anyone on the brink of a breakdown or over the cliff into an emotionally darkened abyss. The shock and guilt could swallow a person whole. When someone walks out on you for what feels permanent, it is a lot to handle. It is a crossroad that you have to choose which path to take. Splitting hairs and cutting your losses, or sticking it in your head for the rest of your life. It should be a mind-shattering event.

Instead I glued my eyes to the TV screen, snickering softly as a grandparent would to the shenanigans of their grandchild, and mumbled to myself,
"He'll forgive me and everything will be fine. Just like it always is."