I Pretend I Don’t Mind

Chapter 3

Alexander and I sit down across from Sabrina and Tucker at the ice cream parlor near our school. Alexander shows me a picture on his phone of the tuxedo he is going to wear for prom.

“It’s really nice,” I tell him.

“I’m really stoked you’re going with me,” he responds, putting his phone away.

I blush. He’s stoked to go with me?

He holds my hand under the table.

Tucker and Sabrina are pretending to be normal with each other and to a stranger, they look just fine like a normal, happy cause couple. But I know better. I’ve spent so much time with them I can tell through their body language that they aren’t okay.

I don’t want to bring up any uncomfortable topics or press on the issues of their relationship in a public place but there’s definitely something wrong going on.

Alexander kisses me goodbye and heads home to prepare for the party he’s throwing tonight.

Tucker kisses Sabrina goodbye and says he’ll catch us later with an uncomfortable wave and an awkward departure.

Sabrina and I walk to her place together and she straightens my hair for me in front of her bedroom mirror.

Alexander’s party starts in a few hours. His parents are out of town and Tucker is supposed to meet us there.

“Do you think you and Alexander might start officially dating?” Sabrina asks me.

I shrug. “I’m not quite sure. I’m still not sure how I feel about going to prom with him.”

“Oh shut up,” Sabrina says, “You know you’re ecstatic.”

“Yeah. Well truthfully... I am. Hopefully his party tonight is fun.”

“It’s definitely been awhile since we’ve been to a party! Usually you, me, and Tucker just stay at home and watch DVD’s or just lay around.”

“Yeah, tonight it going to be different than usual.”

I watch Sabrina carefully straighten each piece of my hair through the mirror.

She has sadness in her eyes.

“How serious are you about going to Dukesmith?” I ask.

“I’m pretty serious. I love Tucker and I want to be with him of course, but we’ve been together practically every moment since elementary school. I’m ready to spread my wings, sort of. I don’t want to break up with him, I just think that the distance might serve us well.”

“Sometimes distance can ruin good relationships,” I tell her.

“But come on, Claire. It’s me and Tucker we’re talking about here. He and I have made it through thick and thin. This really shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I agree. He’s being a bit insecure but you’re also acting a bit too callous towards his emotions. This has been something you’ve thought about for a long time. For him, it’s a brand new shock. Give him time to digest everything. It’s hard for him, I can tell.”

“I’ll give him all the time he needs but he really cannot think it’s acceptable for him to try and stand in the way of my academic future.”

I agree with her and the two of us head to Alexander’s house for the party.

The house is full of people we recognize from our school around 11 o’clock at night, but it doesn’t gets really crowded until around midnight.

Tucker joins us and he does a good job of acting like he’s in a good mood even though I know deep down that he isn’t.

Sabrina and Tucker take some shots together and dance a bit.

After a while, they separate. Sabrina starts dancing with some girls she knows from the drama club and Tucker disappears from my sight.

Alexander and I talk near the kitchen. I can tell that pretty much everyone around us is starting to get tipsy and sloppy. It’s almost like he and I are the only ones here left with clear minds and authentic interest.

“Do you want to go up to my room?” he asks, his hand caressing my lower back.

“Sure,” I say, looking into his eyes, dazed in amazement at how handsome he is.

We make our way upstairs through the throngs of our drunk classmates and rowdy peers, avoiding stepping on any bottles or feet.

Alexander opens his bedroom door and then immediately slams it shut.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Uhm… nothing. Nothing. Let’s just go back downstairs.”

“Alexander, what’s wrong?” I ask again.

“It’s nothing! Let’s just go downstairs. My room is so messy right now.”

“I don’t care about your mess,” I tell him laughing.

I try to push past him but he blocks me.

“Alexander, move.” I say sternly.

He breathes deeply and then moves aside with his eyes closed.

I open his bedroom door and see Tucker laying there.

My best friend, Tucker.

With Mandy Gleason on top of him.

“Tucker?!” I shriek. I nearly lose my voice.

I slam the door shut and stare at Alexander.

“You!” I hiss, the word seething through my teeth.

“What?!” he asks, raising his hands defensively.

“You’re an asshole,” I say to him. “How dare you try to hide this from me! As if you’re condoning it!”

“Whoa, Claire--”

I shove past him and run downstairs to find Sabrina without any regard for who my body is slamming into.

Alexander chases close after me.

He reaches for my arm but I yank it away.

“Leave me alone!” I shout in his face, swiveling around to face him.

I spot Sabrina and speed over to her as if our lives are depending on it.

Alexander rushes towards me and stands in front of me, blocking me from Sabrina.

“Don’t do this,” he says to me, “It’s not your place.”

“Get the f**k out of my face, faggot,” I say pushing him with both hands as hard as I can manage. He stumbles backwards, probably a little bit shocked at my foul language as well as my brute physical force.

I grab Sabrina’s arm and yank her from what she’s doing, leaving Alexander in the non-literal dust.

“Claire!” Sabrina says drunkenly, smiling at me, “Have you seen Tucker?”

I pull her upstairs with me, every step feeling farther and farther away, the heaviness of Sabrina’s body being dragged behind me.

“Where are we going?” she whines from behind me.

I don’t respond, I just keep on pulling.

Finally, we reach the top and I and open Alexander’s bedroom door so that Sabrina can see for herself with her own two eyes.

What she sees is Tucker awkwardly dressing himself, pulling his pants up and struggling with his zipper. And a naked Mandy, sitting up straight and almost proudly on the edge of the bed.

Tucker looks up and sees us both standing in the doorway and immediately starts trying to patch a story together. His voice is shaky and his words sound like mumbo-jumbo.

I feel Sabrina’s body start to crumble beside me. She then runs downstairs.

I stare at Tucker, with disbelief and disgust. “You are despicable. I thought you weren’t like the rest but you’re just like anything else that has a penis.”

“Claire wait,” Tucker says, grabbing his shoes with his hands and meeting me in the doorway. “Let me go talk to her.”

“Actually, Tucker, what you should do is stay here and finish busting your disgusting nut. Leave Sabrina alone tonight. Seriously.”

I shut the door, once again leaving Tucker in the room with Mandy.

Alexander is standing in the staircase, looking up at me as I start to descending down the steps with the face of a woman scorned even though it hadn’t been my own heartbreak to experience.

“What?” I ask him, walking past.

The shortness in my tone is clear and obvious.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Just stay away from me, please.”

“But Claire--”

“Just leave me alone, f**k. You’re literally all the same. Trying to cover for him is just as bad as doing what he was doing. Don’t speak to me. Don’t even think about speaking to me.”

He tries to stop me but I glare at him, “Don’t block my path again, I’m done. f**k you.”

I stare at him flatly and blankly.

“Let’s talk about this.”

My face remains solemn, so that he can absorb the fact that he won’t be receiving a response from me.

He finally lets me pass him and I leave his house to find Sabrina sitting on the front curb, sobbing.

I sit with her there and let her alcoholic, mascara streaked tears ruin my blouse.

I want to find something perfect to say but I have no words. I know exactly what she’s feeling and it makes my heart break all over again.

For the first time in her life I can tell she feels hopeless.

Her hopelessness makes me feel hopeless.

Are girls just doomed to this forever?

Loving men and getting our hearts shattered?

Wanting to feel cared for and instead getting trampled over?

Wanting to be able to trust…

And instead losing all hope?

...

My mother knocks on my door, waking me up, the following morning.

“Claire?” she asks, peeking her head in.

“Yes, mother.”

“I’m going on a date tonight after work. I won’t be back until late. You should invite Tucker and Sabrina over so you don’t get too lonely.”

“Can you and I hang out instead?” I ask. “Things with my friends aren’t great right now.”

“I wish you would’ve asked earlier, sweetheart. I already made these plans.”

She gives me a tight lipped smile and then leaves, closing the door after herself.

I sit up on my bed and look at my phone notifications. Six texts.

1 from Tucker. It’s a paragraph of excuses and apologies and pleads for help.

Delete.

3 from Alexander. Three text messages of pure bullshit.

Delete, delete, delete.

1 from Mom: Cheer up, Dear. I’ll be back in a few hours.

Delete.

And then 1 from Sabrina. can you come over?

I text her back and say: yes.

I walk along the sidewalk towards her house with my hands in my pockets.

I’m trying to understand life. Why it’s going the way it’s going.

I suppose nothing ever has an explanation that truly makes any sense.

The only person who could make sense of all this is God.

I’ll never have the understanding required to explain anything of this life.

I stop at the store to buy Sabrina a bag of caramel popcorn, her favorite. I’ll probably buy myself a candy bar or two.

I enter the store and stop dead in my tracks.

I see my ex-boyfriend, Danny, buying swishers at the counter.

He sees me too.

Grand.

After last night’s horrific events, this is just about the last thing I need.

“Hey,” he says, nodding in my direction.

I look the other way.

“You don’t have to ignore me forever,” he says loudly, facing me.

“Can you kindly move?” I ask rudely, “I’m trying to buy something.”

“Claire...”

“What?” I hiss.

I don’t like the sound of my name coming out of his mouth.

It feels too bitterly nostalgic. I’ve wanted to hear my name come out of his mouth for so long and now it sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Though I’m annoyed and acting prickly towards him, I can still feel the ache in the center of my heart start to throb for him… just being in his vicinity of space.

It’s because I’m close enough to him that can smell his scent again, and I can see the freckles scattered across his nose. I can see how smooth his hair is and how his fingers anxiously twiddle with the swisher on the countertop.

He’s close enough to be able to reach over and touch me and the feeling of his hands all over my body and gently on my face and softly through my hair were feelings that were always so comfortable and familiar.

I could take two steps forward and collapse into his arms, my face warmly against his chest. For maybe a minute, everything would feel okay.

It takes everything within me to refrain myself from the desire and keep the situation under control. I stare at him with stony eyes because it’s too late to just pretend we aren’t both standing here in this situation.

“Please stop acting so cold,” he mumbles. “It’s been months.”

The nights we spent together start to flood into my head but I pretend I can’t feel them flooding. I feel myself softening for him.

But I can’t be weak.

I have this uncanny way of sabotaging myself and my own personal happiness every time I consider letting him back in.

Everything had been so perfectly aligned between us until I went on vacation with my mother and he went into Mandy Gleason’s pants.

“Months matter to you now?” I ask, “They didn’t seem to matter when you decided to f**k Mandy. I mean everybody f***s Mandy... You really couldn’t have chosen someone classier to cheat on me with?”

The words roll out of my mouth like balls of fire.

Words I’ve been holding inside for so long.

“Claire, if you were there you would’ve understood.”

“Well I’m glad I wasn’t. And no Danny, I don’t think I’ll never understand. Because I really cared for you and you f****d me over good. You f****d me over so badly that I’m damaged goods now. I will never be the same.”

I laugh and push past him.

Laughing because I think it’s funny that he thinks any words he says can make this okay. Laughing because if I don’t, I will surely start to unwillingly shed tears in front of him.

I hand the cashier a five dollar bill and tell him to keep the change. I take the caramel popcorn and turn to leave.

“I was drunk,” Danny tells me, before I reach the door. “I was extremely drunk. She was pushing herself onto me and--”

“Danny, what is your problem?” I ask. “I didn’t ask for a play by play; I don’t care about the details! Just do whatever you’ve been doing and keep living however you’ve been living, and don’t talk to me again.”

“Claire--”

“Stop saying my name!” I shout, swiveling away from him. I leave the store, and start speed walking down the sidewalk.

He doesn’t chase after me. He stays where he is and watches me walk away through the store glass. Like a little b***h.

I wipe away the tears that are starting to roll down my cheeks because the weakest part of me still wishes that he would chase me.

The one thing I always wanted from him was to chase me anyways, even if I told him not to. Not for dramatics and not for satisfaction. I wanted him to actually fight for me but he never cared enough for that.

The smartest and most bitter part of me knows he never will and never would.

I walk so fast to Sabrina’s house that by the time I get there, I’m covered in a sheet of sweat.

I pretend I didn’t cry during my entire walk to her house because right now, today is about her and what’s happened with Tucker. It’s not about me.

She lets me in and talks to me through the walls of the bathroom shower while I let cold water run over my body.

She leans against the bathroom wall and tells me how she can’t believe Tucker could be capable of something like that. She repeats everything I’ve already established on my own while I stand there nked in her shower and try to absorb her words. She repeats the same thing over and over in different ways and there’s absolutely nothing I can do but listen.

Tucker, I truly thought, was different.

And I’m rarely ever shocked.

But he shocked me.

I get dressed in some of Sabrina’s extra clothes and lay with her in her bed.

“I still love him. But we can’t be together anymore… what he did is unforgivable.”

I stroke her hair while she talks.

I feel my phone vibrating beside me.

I’m getting an incoming call from Alexander.

I press the reject button, and continue to stroke her hair while she repeats herself over and over. Sometimes all you need is someone who cares enough to sit there and just listen to you.

...

I see Alexander’s face pop up on the TV screen in the corner of the classroom to do his weekly news report for the school.

He looks handsome. But meek. Definitely a bit off.

I rest my head on the table to avoid looking at him and try to tune out his voice.

Not quite sure what I’m angry for anymore.

Maybe just looking for someone to blame.

If I’m guilty of that, I feel badly.

But I can’t help but be set in the fact that he was wrong.

I walk to work after school, arriving half an hour early.

I stare blankly at the fugly floral print wallpaper in the cafe.

It’s a tacky combination of purple, orange, and blue.

I start to count the petals on each flower.

I count how many flowers are blue and how many are orange.

Then I compare the length of each flower’s stem to the size of Danny’s p***s.

Then to the size of Alexander’s.

Harold waves his hand in front of my face.

“Stop daydreaming,” he scolds.

I tighten my apron around my waist and wipe some crumbs off of the counter.

I stand up straight and see the couple with tension entering the cafe.

My body stiffens with immediate perturbation.

It happened so quickly.

They were approaching the counter and she accidentally stepped on his shoe.

And then he swung.

Felt like my heart stopped

when I heard the slap of his hand against her face.

I climbed over the counter and took her and pulled her away from him. And he started yelling at me and then Harold started yelling at me.

I felt her shaking beside me, her entire body shaking.

I couldn’t tell if this was the first time.

The first time a man hits a woman seems like something that would happen in a private place.

Not in front of an audience.

I yelled at him to “GET OUT”

She started to go towards him again but I yelled at her to “STAY”

And nothing was making sense.

I knew I was shouting loudly but I couldn’t even hear my own voice,

over my thudding heartbeat.

Just angry. That he did that. As if it wasn’t a big deal at all. As if she deserved it.

He hit her in front of everyone and she pathetically broke free from me and followed after him as he left.

I turn to Harold. My shoulders drooping, because I feel defeated.

He stares at me with fury.

He starts to lecture me. His lips moving viciously fast but I can’t hear anything he’s saying either.

I take off my apron and put it down

and I leave.

I’m supposed to be working for two more hours but I leave anyways and I assume Harold understands that this means I quit.

I walk home.

Unsure of how to feel.

Just thinking.

Of the sound of his hand against her face.

And Tucker’s pale naked skin underneath Mandy’s sluttiness.

And all the men taking my mother out on dates, stealing her time from me.

And Martha’s husband leaving her.

And my father not trying or caring.

And Harold being an empty, soulless coward of a man.

And Danny cheating on me while I was out of town for one week.

And Alexander...

I feel so dizzy that I sit down on the curb

just to take a moment to breathe.

Disoriented.

How I feel.

This feeling of everything around me being completely out of my control.

And coming to terms with the fact that it will never be in my control.

School in the morning is the last place where I want to be.

I stand in the hallway in front of my locker.

Alone.

I’m usually never by myself.

I’m always standing comfortably between Sabrina and Tucker.

Sabrina is taking a few days off of school to gather herself and I’m no longer associating myself with Tucker, or speaking to him.

It feels weird. Being by myself.

I stare at the clock as it ticks along to get me through my first few classes, but at lunch time I decide to make a break for it.

Fuck the rest of my classes for the day.

I can’t handle listening to my teacher discuss Shakespeare’s Iambic Pentameter.

I walk home without making any stops.

I lay down on my bed and stare up at my spinning ceiling fan.

I pick up my phone and dial my dad’s number.

I don’t have his number saved in my phone, but it’s etched in my brain.

From all the times I’ve dialed it and then changed my mind and decided to hang up instead.

This time I let it ring until I hear his voice on the other end.

“Claire?” he asks.

“Dad?”

“Claire, what’s going on?”

“Why don’t you ever call me?” I ask him, dauntlessly.

“I do call you, Claire.”

“No you don’t, Dad,” I respond.

“I try to call but you make it very challenging.”

“You make it challenging,” I argue.

“Claire--”

“You dipped out

You are the one that left.

Not me.”

“Claire what’s this all about? What is going on?”

“Do you care about me at all?” I ask.

He’s silent. All he had to do was say “yes”. Even if it was a lie.

I know he cares and he knows he cares but since he’s done nothing to show it,

I know that he knows he can’t say “yes” comfortably without feeling like a liar.

“If I could slap you across the face I think I’d be happier,” I tell him, “Because it just doesn’t make any sense how sometimes I miss you and other times I don’t… I’ve been told that when you hold anger against someone, it’s like standing in a pit of flames and hoping the other person gets burned. I feel like I’m standing here getting scorched while you’re wherever you are not giving a f**k. For some reason I can’t let it go yet and I don’t want to forgive you yet.

and I know it’s hurting me

and it’s not affecting you at all

but I can’t stop.”

“Claire… Where is this coming from?”

The fact that he’s even asking me that is infuriating.

As if me being upset and feeling forgotten is something sudden and new.

Realistically I’ve been feeling this way for years.

“Do you love me?” I ask.

“Of course I do,” he says, sounding exasperated.

“No you don’t,” I say.

I hang up and throw my phone across the room.

It hits the wall and I have a feeling it’s probably cracked.

I don’t feel like caring about my phone.

I don’t feel like caring about anything.

I don’t feel like feeling anything.