FIFTEEN
Holding Up The Fort
Eric bought me enough clothes to last the weekend, and I suspect that he wanted me to stay at his for the rest of the week, and the weekend, but since leaving his apartment to go to school a couple of days ago, I'd cooped myself up at Nahla's house, who, as always, didn't ask any questions. I had gone to Eric's classes, but I hadn't looked him in the eye and I was first out of the door so he couldn't trap me at the end. It wasn't like I was avoiding him. Well, OK, I was. But I wasn't avoiding him because I slept with him, or didn't want to talk to him or anything, but because I just needed some time to myself to rid the guilt.
On the way to school, when I left Eric's house, I knew that one way or another, whether I saw Eric for myself or Brogan, I knew that I would end up hurting Eric. I just didn't want to do that to him. But I wanted to enjoy myself. Now I'd gotten a taste of the life I was missing – a life filled with want, and lust and maybe even love – I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to just do what Brogan wanted me to do all the time. I didn't want to be controlled and forced into things. Eric never forced me to do anything. I really liked that about him. He was a great guy; I didn't want to ruin him with my complicated life.
As if that wasn't enough already, he was also my teacher. If nothing else ruined his life, if people ever found out, that certainly would stain his relationship. Although he was rich, he didn't need the money from this teaching job, he needed his reputation. What if people found out he'd slept with a student and stopped going to his gallery? What if people took it upon themselves to voice their opinions of the matter? What if something happened to him because of me?
Now it was Saturday night and I'd managed to avoid both Brogan and Eric for a few days. I knew I had to go back to Brogan at some point, but when he'd attacked my head, something about me changed. The pull that often came with the panic wasn't as strong anymore. I was still scared to death of what Brogan would do. But there was only so much one person could take, I knew that. I didn't know what he'd do to me if he found out that I'd trashed his room. It seemed that he'd pushed my limits when he expanded his.
"Are you going to come to church with me tomorrow?" Nahla asked. She was painting her nails, a deep red. Her feet were propped up on the desk. We'd quickly got over the fight we'd had about Jacen and the prom thing – well, for now at least. We hated to fight, even though we knew this particular one wasn't over yet. It had just been placed on the back burner because we'd agreed to just spend some quality time together. We didn't want to complicate that.
"I think I'll go running while you're in church, if that's alright."
Nahla shrugged. "You have a key," she replied. "I didn't expect you to go, anyway."
I thought about the key in my bag next to the key to my own house. I was glad to have it. I knew I was welcome at Nahla's any time, but I didn't want to impose. I knew I'd have to go home sooner or later. I also knew that the longer I left it before I went home, the worse it would get.
Eric's offered, the annoying voice in my head said. Yes, Eric had offered to take me in, we'd been over that, but I couldn't stay with him. He was my teacher. Now he was my teacher that I'd slept with. If it had been innocent, that was one thing, but it wasn't innocent, and it was so easy for us to get caught. I couldn't risk it, and he shouldn't think that we could, either. For both of our sakes, word that we'd slept together couldn't get out. I feared that if I didn't graduate, or get into to college, Brogan would sink his teeth in so deep; I'd be dead before I found another way to leave.
"So, what do you think of the new art teacher?" Nahla asked, turning in her office chair. "He's cute, right?"
"Totally." I replied, because it would have been unnatural for me to say no. He was a cute guy; I could admit that he was cute, couldn't I? It would be more suspicious if I didn't, right? "I do miss Mrs Winters, though."
"You just miss her regime. You like having Mr Tobias around."
Sometimes I forget Eric's last name. Sometimes I forget that he was a teacher, and I had to refer to him as Mr Tobias. I didn't like it. Mainly because Brogan called him Tobias, but also because it reminded me, plain and simply, that he was my teacher. I didn't have to say it in class, because I never asked him to come over, never asked for his advice. I tried to distance myself from him as much as I could. And because Nahla, Chloe or Troy didn't really care about art the same way I did, Eric didn't have many excuses to come over to our table, either. "I guess," I tried to shrug off.
"I can't believe he's been here for a week already."
A week! Only a week had gone by? I had slept with Eric in under a week. I had stayed at my teacher's house twice! How had only a week gone by, yet my life had spiralled out of my control and got so much more complicated? If only Eric hadn't bumped into me at the start of the week, I wouldn't be in this situation. Would I? Eric said so himself, he saw me, he noticed that Brogan was violent, and mean. Would he have intervened at school instead? Would we be where we were now? Part of me thought that just because he caught me from falling, we got so much closer. But, who knew? I didn't like to think of the what if's, but life would have been different if Eric hadn't bumped into me. But maybe it wouldn't have. He'd already noticed me. Maybe we'd still be in the same situation. We'll never know. If people found out, not only would they say that I was a slut for sleeping with my teacher, but I was easy. I wasn't easy. "Me neither," I muttered, feeling the skin on the back of my neck grow hot. I didn't want this one, selfish act defying who I was for the rest of my life. I didn't want this ruining my life. Eric was saving me from Brogan, but he wasn't saving me from myself. I cared about what people thought of me – that's why I didn't tell anyone about Brogan. I was too stubborn and proud to admit to help, because I didn't want people to pity me, I didn't want them to worry, or be sad, or try and help me to make themselves feel better. That wasn't who I was; not before my parents died, or after.
"You already knew him, though, didn't you?" Nahla. Nahla Puth didn't like to beat around the bush. Nahla, who'd flashed me smiles and sent me knowing looks at the start of the week when I found out Eric was my teacher. Nahla, who had watched me go out to talk to Eric in the corridor had nodded her head, telling me I had to finish my conversation with my teacher when I'd looked back in through the glass in the door. Nahla, who knew very little about my life but who knew me. Nahla, my best friend.
I swallowed, trying to keep my tone even. "What makes you think that?"
"He had to stop himself from saying your name." Nahla answered. She must have seen my puzzled look, because she elaborated. "When we were late, because we stopped to talk to Jacen in the corridor."
"He did the register. We were the only ones missing. He guessed that."
"He shouldn't have known which one was you. He said your name as he looked at you, Darcy."
"It was a coincidence."
Suddenly, Nahla looked hurt, as if she knew I was lying. I didn't want to lie to her, I just couldn't tell the truth. My life depended on it. My lies were always because my life depended on privacy. I couldn't keep the guilt at bay. She knew I was lying, and by the look on her face, for a moment, I thought she knew I'd lied to her often. "We both know that's not true," Nahla said after a moment. "I saw it on your face just as much. You know Mr Tobias from somewhere, don't you?"
I wanted to stop her talking right there. I hated how she called him Mr Tobias. It made my skin crawl. I hated the reminder of who he was. If he could have saved me from my brother, my life would have been easier. But he's my teacher, and saving me from my brother could ruin my life. I can't win. Not when he's a teacher. Not when it's illegal and dangerous. People won't see it the same way. People won't understand. People, most of all, won't care. It's wrong, in their eyes, no matter what either of us would say to change their minds. That's why I'm avoiding Eric. I can only stop myself if I'm not around him. My mind is screaming at myself to avoid Eric, but another part, a part of me that hates being scared, and beaten, and lives in fears, wants to drive forward and see Eric again for Brogan's sake. Then a small part, a part I'm only just starting to explore is telling me that Eric is everything I'm looking for, everything I needed and everything I didn't know I needed. "I've seen him before."
"He knew your name." Nahla deadpanned, looking at me with accusing eyes.
"Yes, we spoke. Once."
"Once." Nahla sounded sceptical.
"It was only recently, actually. In a parking lot. I left your house, I was going home—"
"Hold up." Nahla's voice raised a couple of octaves. She raised her hands. "You left my house? You met our teacher in a parking lot, leaving my house?"
"Monday morning." I said quickly, wanting this conversation to be over quickly. My eyes scanned the exit. Part of me was screaming to leave, to go home, but then I thought rationally. I could just get this uncomfortable conversation over with quickly, lie to Nahla and then move on; or I could go home and hide from Nahla but face Brogan, and his anger, and try and explain my absence. I could go home, or I could stay here. You could go to Eric's, that annoying voice in my head said again, but I would not answer to that voice now. No, I would not run. I had to stop running. But, I also had to go home at some point; sooner or later. "I was running home—"
"Because your brother had a business trip." Nahla said. "I remember. You stayed at mine. Where does Mr Tobias fit in with this?"
"I ran out in front of his car by accident. He stopped to make sure I was OK." I missed out the part where Eric was the owner of the art gallery I always frequented. I missed out the fact that that wasn't the first time I spoke to him. I missed out a lot, and I felt especially bad when I lied to Nahla, but I couldn't tell her the truth. I knew I was a bad friend, and I was starting to believe that I was a bad person. One day, I knew that I owed it to Nahla to tell her the truth, but right now wasn't the time.
"That's so weird." Nahla replied, but her voice sounded dethatched, like she was disappointed, like she didn't believe me but wanted to, for my sake, for the sake of our friendship.
~~
I thought I was safe at Nahla's house: safe from Brogan because he wouldn't turn up at my best friend's house. He was a well-respected young business entrepreneur. Turning up in his old, dark car in scruffy jeans and black jacket wouldn't scream business, so he'd never been over before. We'd concocted that lie together. Lie to people, that's what Brogan always told me to do. People ask less questions when everything looks perfect. I thought I was safe from Eric, too, because he didn't know where Nahla lived and even if he found her file he wouldn't be able to turn up at her house to collect me because he was our teacher.
But I wasn't safe.
One of them had found me.
And when I heard his voice floating up the stairwell, I knew I had probably made the biggest mistake of my life by hiding here. I ran away from a lot of things, but before recently, I'd never run away from my brother. I didn't have the guts to, to start with. I was never quick enough. And I always had to go home in the end anyway, so I'd never really tried. Not like this. I'd hardly been home all week, and even when I had been home, I had left again, rushing out after Brogan attacked me so I didn't have to stay, and then rushing out again when Eric turned up, trying to come in, trying to talk to me after he said he wasn't looking out for me because of pity, but attraction, lust.
There was some yelling, and shouting and I swear that Brogan kicked Nahla's front door. Luckily, it was just the two of us. The rest of the Puth family were out, but not for much longer. I hoped my brother didn't make too much of a scene. I would have gone down, rushed passed Nahla and gone home with Brogan if he hadn't kicked up a fuss, but because he was shouting, I couldn't get my feet to move. Fear had paralyzed me to the spot, and I knew that every second I hid up here I was making it worse for myself, but I couldn't brace myself for the confrontation – not in front of my best friend. If I waited just a little longer, I could say goodbye to Nahla, I could leave, and then quietly go home and accept the beating. Nahla didn't need to see Brogan and I interact. She'd she me wince, or flinch, or she'd see the burning rage in Brogan's eyes. She'd know, in a second, so I just couldn't face him.
After some time, Brogan stopped screaming and kicking and said quietly, lowly, dangerously sharply, "Darcy will come home tonight. Tell her that, will you?"
I think Nahla slammed the door in his face then, because I heard a wham and then Nahla was barrelling up the stairs, frowning hard, searching her headroom for me now I'd rushed over to her bed, sheepish and ashamed. "For someone who goes on a hell of a lot of business trips, he doesn't know how to talk to people, like, at all. What an ass."
"Why didn't you let him in?" I questioned. It wasn't like I wanted Brogan to come in, but it would have been accepted of Nahla to let my brother in when he was regarding my whereabouts, especially considering I was here.
"He sounded angry." Nahla replied, flicking her dark hair over her shoulders. I noticed that she was breathing heavier than normal, trying to calm herself down. "Angry at you." She continued, looking at me accusingly. "I'd ask you to tell me what's going on – why are you hiding here half the week? – but I know you aren't going to tell me if I ask you nicely."
She was right. I didn't want to tell her. But she deserved to know. I wasn't ready to give up that secret to her: the secret of my brother, but I was willing to compromise, and I knew Nahla would be willing to too.
"If I tell you something you want to know, will you drop this and forget it? My brother is just stressed. He'll be fine."
"I just covered for you from your brother who I always thought was a smart intelligent man, but he surely doesn't look like it now. So, yes, tell me something I want to know Darcy, because I'm kind of pissed off here."
"Er—Mr Tobias, he uh, he owns the art gallery you pick me up from. That's how I know him. I knew him before I ran out in front of his car."
Nahla's face softened. "Why didn't you just say that before?"
"Because—" I shrugged lamely. Because that's still not the whole truth, I thought. "It looks wrong, doesn't it? Admitting you know a teacher before they're your teacher. People get the wrong ideas."
"They will if you lie to them." Nahla said, and I knew that was a little jibe at me.
"I know." I murmured. I'd quickly come to the realisation that you're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't and I just had to live with that. I was a liar, plain and simple. But the truth of the matter is: some people had to lie just to stay alive.