forty-three
one week later
"And scene!" Professor Thornton announces. The auditorium erupts in claps and chants of excitement as we finish the last scene of rehearsals. With the play happening in two days, this would be our final reading of the script as a whole before show time.
Everyone was completely off-book, but to solidify Professor Thornton's perfectionism, he insisted the last rehearsal be with the script. I shut my copy of The Scarlet Letter and make my way down the stage in pursuit of my belongings to make a break for the exit. It had been a week since I falsely admitted being in a relationship with Wyatt to Trevor and since then, we'd been adamantly dodging each other's presence except when we obviously couldn't. The last time he and I were alone was that night I went over to his house and we argued.
"If you want to leave, Go. But know that I would prefer it if you stayed. Please. It was insensitive and childish of me to say those things to you. I'm sorry." Only I didn't want to leave. I wanted more from him. More for us, but his lack of acknowledgment stung a hell of a lot more than this meaningless argument we were having.
"I'll stay under one condition..." Trevor remains silent, but closes the front door and grabs a hold of my hand to guide us back toward the living room. Once were seated, he let go of my hand and nodded for me to continue. "Tell me how you feel about me. And not how my body makes you feel. I want to know if you think there's anything between us. Anything more than just sex."
"Dude! Stop!" Someone yells in a fit of laughter, breaking me from my trance of remembrance.
My attention finds its way to the stage on a pair of rowdy castmates—Gavin and Philip—who plays Roger Chillingworth. I roll my eyes at their immaturity and grab ahold of my things to leave. Once I'm able to glance down at my phone, there's a text from my brother asking to meet up once rehearsals are over which I reply to with a yes.
I scan the auditorium for Professor first, who is huddled in the corner with a group of students assigned to the technical aspects of the play. No doubt finalizing the last few loose ends before we were to put on the show. Next, I scan for Wyatt who is nowhere to be found, but I shrug off his absence fully aware of his extracurricular activities with his fraternity who were hosting a mixer later tonight.
As I continue towards the auditorium's exit, Gavin and Philip continue to rough house even after Professor Thornton shouts in advisement against it. I shake my head and turn my neck to proceed forward but the door doesn't hold my attention much longer as a loud thud echoes throughout the room.
"Shit!!" Gavin hollers in an agonizing gasp of breath. His body is out of sight, but it isn't hard to tell where he's landed as Philip's mouth hangs agape while he hovers over the edge of the stage focused on the level below it meant for band accompaniment. Within seconds, Trevor and Philip race down the steps to assist with whatever injuries he might have sustained. "I'm okay," he says, as they help him up, but his body nearly collapses from the pressure he applies to his feet.
"Looks like it's your ankle that's not," says Trevor with a disappointing sigh. "Which translates to we're down an understudy already. Get him to the Health Center, Philip. Without any more injuries, please."
Trevor's disposition isn't hard to miss as he facepalms his hand and then glances into the distance, only our eyes gravitate toward one another.
"What do you gain from me saying something we both know won't matter in the end? Even more so now that you're already in a relationship with someone else. Whether or not there's anything between us, there's nothing more that can happen so why waste time with hypothetical scenarios?"
"And now it's you avoiding my questions. I need to know the truth, Trevor. That's what I'll gain. The truth and peace of mind. Can't you at least give me that?"
Once I've pulled myself back to focus, he turns toward the group of students he'd put on pause to assist with the stupidity of Gavin and Philip, leaving me to my own devices. There's no reason to linger around any longer, so I leave and make my way to Chris's dorm. When I arrived he was already standing outside the resident's hall waiting for me. He gets in with a plop and sighs.
"Where's your boyfriend?"
Boyfriend.
Wyatt, he's referring to. After we met up last week to discuss the discretion of my nickname—which I had to play off as a reason to reminisce about our mother, I let it slip that Wyatt and I were going on a date. He wasn't wrong to call him that. Not when Wyatt and I had gone on our date a day later and he officially asked me to be his girlfriend. I saw no reason to say anything other than yes especially after the conversation with Trevor. I liked Wyatt and there was no doubt that my feelings for him could matriculate into love.
"Hosting his fraternity's mixer for rush week. He told me I could invite you if you wanted to come."
"As if I'd turn down the opportunity to watch freshman get humiliated." I roll my eyes and pull off. "Speaking of being humiliated, Meghan asked me if I knew anyone named Drea today. Said Emma's been talking nonstop about a tea party she had with someone Trevor is friends with." I'm at a loss for words, truly. "I hadn't thought much about it, so I told her no. It wasn't until I finally took the time and pieced it all together. You bringing up how mom and I only called you that and how you wanted to keep it that way."
Christian turns to look at me and without saying anything more, I already know he's concluded what it all means. The campus rumors about the Professor and me. Why Meghan was always on edge whenever it came to me being around. Instead of trying to convince him otherwise, I say nothing because there's nothing that needs to be said. He knows. If not the extent of how far our involvement had gone, he knew there was some level of truth of something going on between me and Trevor and I'd run out of opportunities to convince him otherwise.
A lump lodged in my throat refuses to subside even as I swallow a gulp of pride. My brother knew. Apart from his confession, nothing else is said our entire way to the frat house and once he does speak, it's to thank me for the ride before he unbuckles his seatbelt.
"Christian, wait," he stops and turns to look at me with disgust. "You're still not gonna say anything right?"
His expression says everything his words didn't need to. As if.
"You expect me not to say anything after putting me in the position to lie to my girlfriend? I've always known your feelings towards her, but to put your selfish needs above ours and our unborn child is beyond me. Thanks to you, my family might be broken before it's even begun. You're a selfish liar. You knew what you were doing with your teacher and you used me as a scapegoat for your sloppiness," Chris doesn't let me finish. Instead, he opens the car door and slams it on his way out.
Shit. Everyone is gonna know now.
It's hard to maintain my composure as I wrestle myself out of the car and into the frat house in search of my brother. As expected, the only way through the crowd is to force my way between the cluster of bodies. By now the smell of marijuana no longer bothered me, I'd never gotten accustomed to the stench, but it didn't make me want to gag—not when our residency hall reeked of it consistently. To no avail of spotting my brother, I shimmy my way into the kitchen for a bit of liquid courage. Christian was right to say everything he had said to me and only now that he'd blatantly called me out on my recklessness, I finally understood the weight of the consequences.
Instead of trying to mix a concoction for myself as Wyatt had done for me, I scoop two spoonfuls of spiked punch into my solo cup and continue to scan the room for Chris but my eyes caught another familiar face. Wyatt is perched against the wall with his usual on-the-prowl gaze until his attention finds me. His eyes crinkle as a smile takes over his face before he pushes himself toward the kitchen. It's impossible to overlook the stench of alcohol on his breath as he pulls me in for a hug, but knowing the interesting night he had ahead of him, who could blame him?
"I've been waiting to see your pretty little face," he slurs in whispers against my ear. "I have something to show you upstairs." Wyatt doesn't allow me to object before he's pulling me along.
Had he given me the choice to object, I'd have told him finding my brother was more important than whatever was waiting for me upstairs. But going along was better than the risk of exposing myself trying to explain the riff between Chris and me, so I willingly follow him up and toward the last door at the end of the hall.
His room is much tidier than I'd imagined it would be. The bed was made with every corner tucked tightly underneath the mattress as if he'd been in the service and the scent of freshly washed linen hung in the air which was a relief from being downstairs. He instructs me to sit on the bed as he rummages through his drawers in search of whatever was important enough for him to step away from a party he planned.
On the desk pushed in a nook in the corner of the room sat a single black framed photo of Wyatt and a woman that couldn't in the least bit be confused as anyone other than his mother. The resemblance was uncanny. Further plastered around are accolades of nearly every extracurricular you could think of. Woodshop, pottery, mechanics, engineering, theater. His talents seemed to be endless. It takes him a moment, but once he finally finds what he'd been searching for, a yelp of excitement falls from his lips as he sits beside me on the bed. In his hand was a small white gift box tied in a pink ribbon. Inside is a golden chain bracelet with an A dangling from its center.
"Let me," he says, pulling it from the box as I stare at it in awe. It was beautiful. Way too polished to be anything other than authentic gold. "Figured it was appropriate with you playing Hester Prynn. And conveniently the first letter of your name."
I wanted to tell him I couldn't accept it, that I didn't deserve it, but as its coolness rests against my skin once Wyatt secured it around my wrist, I'd already fallen in love with it.
"Wyatt..."
He waved me off, knowing what I'd say next would be in protest against the lavish gifts he was intent on giving me. Instead, he pulls me closer. His hand caresses my cheek and he leans in to kiss me, but our lips don't touch before the door to his room swings open and Leonardo and the rest of a group of guys demand his presence downstairs and pull him away to continue with initiation. On his way out, he promises to find me later before he disappears out the door.
I leave his room shortly after and make my way back downstairs. The crowd appeared to have doubled in size and the bass of the music sent vibrations through the floor and walls. If I hadn't been inside the house, I may have called the student center to report the noise myself so I head to the backyard where the party continues. Luckily tonight's weather isn't as chilly as it had been a week ago. I'd swapped my enormous winter coat for a thick jacket, scarf, hat, and gloves. I half expected Taylor to be close by considering she and Leo had been inseparable since they met each other in the dining hall a few months ago. After sending her a text asking where she was and her response hadn't been at this party, I pulled myself from the corner of the backyard and started for the pavement leading towards the front of the fraternity.
That's when I see Christian and Meghan standing beneath a large oak tree. Meghan paces with her fingers clamped between her teeth—nibbling away at her nails. My brother is quivering but it's hard to distinguish whether it had been their conversation or his lack of proper appeal. Nonetheless, I slowed my breathing to listen even though I'm well aware of the conversation they were having based strictly on their body language.
Chris vigorously shakes his head as Meghan continues to throw accusations his way. "I swear I had no idea, babe. You have to believe me," he pleads loud enough for his words to travel to me. I couldn't stand seeing him this way—desperate for her approval and her attention, but who was I to judge when I had done similar things with my teacher? I watch as Chris takes a few steps in Meghan's direction to console her, but when he reaches for her hand, she refuses and continues to pace in the opposite direction of him.
"I asked one thing of you," she pants, audibly attempting to hold back the quiver in her voice. "Don't lie to me and you couldn't even manage that."
Christian shakes his head before allowing it to completely drop to his shoulders in defeat. It took every shred of composure to refrain from racing to his aid and owning up to my lies, but how could I without completely implicating myself and destroying Trevor's future as an educator? They continue to bicker but it isn't loud enough for me to hear them anymore so I don't see the point in lingering around to watch my brother's relationship crash and burn. I never wanted anyone to get hurt. Especially not my brother and my unborn nephew. Or Trevor.
Oh shit! Trevor. Without wasting more time snooping, I race to my car, and I pull my phone from my pocket to let him know what was going on.
She knows.
Wyatt would have some drawn-out apology waiting on his phone once he realized I hadn't stuck around for whatever else he had planned. It takes me less time to get to his apartment this time which isn't something I prided myself on with the roads still scattered with the remnant of snow. Instead of parking near his apartment, I park my car a block away and walk the remaining distance. Better to be safe than sorry had someone else decides to make a surprise visit. His car is ajar in loo of my arrival, so once I make it up the steps, I enter without a knock. He stands in the kitchen with one elbow pressed onto the island and the other violently pushes the hair that has fallen from his head to the back.
Trevor shoots up once he sees me and before I can make it to him, he races my way, shuts and locks the door before pulling me to the back and into his room. Silence plagues us, holding our tongues captive to our mistakes. I want to speak—at least to express how sorry I was for leading him into this losing battle with myself, but I can't. Not when I knew where both of our faiths lay after Meghan went to the dean with her newfound information and I couldn't blame her. With nearly all of our interactions ending in disputes, the way I'd been held responsible for the demise of her former best friend, my situationship with her ex-husband. Besides my brother being her child's father, nothing was preventing her from ratting me out. Trevor and I knew that. It's why we fought to avoid this situation in the first place.
"The truth? You want the truth? Well, here it is. The cold, hard, unfiltered truth—I picture a version of my future with you in it. Asking your father for your hand in marriage. Us in a big house in the countryside chasing our children around our farm. Getting lost in all the undiscovered terrain of your body—but that's not life. It's a fantasy. One that's far from where we are now. It's a fantasy that's too far to see, so I find no point in entertaining it any longer. As hard as it is to hear. You and I have to be done. No more showing up at my apartment. No more sneaking off to my office or off campus trying to live in this fantasy world that we've created."
If I had any sense at all I wouldn't have pestered him for the truth. I'd have been content with all the unsaid things floating around our illicit relationship if it only meant that I could have him a little while longer.
"We have to end whatever this is before someone finds out and both of our futures crumble. With that being said, from now on and until this is all behind us, we only speak unless it's necessary."