No Strings

CHAPTER 4--Stop Light; Go Light

"It's not like we're going to marry or anything," I said, laughing.

He turned to me in that moment and looked me square in the eyes. "We should--after we graduate high school. I want to travel abroad, you'll come with me, right?"

I felt a knot of emotions well up. He didn't get that I meant it as a joke.

"I want to go to Brazil. There are supposed to be a lot of pretty girls down there. And I'd like to go to Scotland. It's supposed to be beautiful. I want to teach there."

"That's cool."

He glared at me. "I wasn't finished."

"If you'll come with me it won't be so bad. We can go to the same college too."

I didn't want that, but I was afraid to speak.

"And then we'll have kids too. Three. You can stay home. Advertising can't be that bad. You can do it part time, right? But I'll have to talk to my parents. You will too, right?"

"A month..." I said.

"is plenty of time to know it's right, right Bess. I knew you would agree."

"I--I..." I didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was nice, but I didn't like him that much.

He leaned in to kiss me, I jerked back from him, but he followed after me. Panic filled my mind. I reached for the car door.

"This is normal, Bess," he said.

I shook my head, but he kissed me again and then yanked up my shirt. I pulled it from his hand.

I blushed and said, "No."

"But I want to touch you."

"No, I don't want to."

"You let me kiss you and we're getting married anyway... what does it matter?"

"I don't want to," I said blushing and pushing him away.

"You don't like me do you?"

"I do... but..."

"Fine. If you don't love me, then I will break up with you."

"It's not that..." I whispered.

"You hate me, don't you?"

I shook my head. He was nice. I wanted a boyfriend like my other classmates had.

He didn't say the incriminating words like they did on television, "Everyone does it baby." or even, "You know you want it." It couldn't be wrong.

"I--I don't think we should see each other anymore." I stammered the statement.

"You don't mean it," he said.

"I do," I replied.

He leaned over me, my body was against the steamed window. I was scared. He grabbed my wrist and pushed it against the pane. I screamed. With my free hand I tried to open the door, but it was awkward. It opened. I scrambled out of the car and ran. I ran away from him. He ran after me. He was some distance away from me. He was shouting, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

But I ran so hard that I tripped and I kept running. Somehow I felt free in that moment. I got up from the snowy sidewalk and I kept running. I didn't know where I was running to. My lungs gasped in the cold air. I hid in a nearby park. An hour passed before I felt safe to try to go home. I realized in my daze that I had my purse around my body, but I had no cash. I found my way to a gas station. I was not that far from home. I asked to use the phone. The person let me. I called my dad. I felt safer doing this. He picked me up and didn't ask any questions. When we arrived home my mom was standing in the doorway, frowning at me.

"Baby, what happened?" Dad asked.

I stood there. I cried inside. I couldn't cry in front of them.

"I think they broke up," was all that my mother could say.

I refused his phone calls. I refused to see him. I knew if I saw him I would want to go back to him. I couldn't handle going back to him. I swore never to get into that kind of relationship again. I swore that I would take a stand. The next guy would listen to me and my troubles. And I'd listen to him too.

A week later in the car, Dad asked, "What happened?"

I said, "I broke up with him." I stared out the window. The clumps of snow accumulated in patterns before meeting their death by the heat of the window.

"Oh," was the best he could say.

I didn't date for a long time after that. It was my fault after all that he'd said and done those things. I was the one that joked that we should marry. It was all my fault.