The Rocky Road Pact

Chapter 36: I Can't Go for That (No Can Do)

My face was flushed and my blood boiled. Who was he to lock the door?

"I don't want to listen, I want to get out of here." He stood, blocking the door. "Brandon, move. Now!" I tried to shove him out of the way, but for a skinny guy, he was strong. I began to feel pinpricks of fear. 

"Not until you hear me out. Then, you can leave."

You don't decide when I leave, I thought. I needed to stay calm. I'd get out of that room, one way or another. He took my hand and tried to lead me to the bed but I snatched it away and sat in a chair by the door. 

"I'm not going to hurt you Cass. I just need you to see things from my side."

"What side? I've been your girlfriend for years, I chased you, I pleaded with you to love me and you just kept me hanging by a string. I've had enough, I'm done. We were too young to get so serious right away, I don't know why I did that," I said, shaking my head. What was wrong with me? I saw things so clearly now. The best thing about Brandon I realized in that moment wasn't his looks (mediocre), his personality (bland as tap water) or his sense of humour (nonexistent). 

It was the safety of having a boyfriend. Not having to go through the emotional highs and lows of your friends who were all trying to find what you had, who all said things like you were so lucky and they wished they were you. That was much better than what they used to say to me as a kid when I had sleepovers or parties. Why is your mom so mean to you? 

Or worse. Why does your mom drink so much? That question, with its companions shame and embarrassment, was the one I hated the most. Their moms made rice crispy squares and took them shopping for back to school clothes and out to lunch. Mom would do those things sometimes but only if there was some kind of audience. Appearances were everything, after all.

Even when I got into the ivy league school, she couldn't fake being happy for me. "I had dreams too you know," she said. "I could have gone to college. Until you came along."

As if it was my fault. I didn't ask to be born.

I saw Brandon then for what he really was. An escape. The best thing about him was that car he had, when he picked me up on nights when my Mom was being particularly harsh, the safety of peace and quiet closing in on me when I slammed the door and we drove off into the night. 

I didn't love Brandon. He could have been anybody. 

"And if I don't turn things around, work hard in school, my parents will cut me off of my allowance. Are you even listening to me?"

"Uh huh," I lied. "But what does dating me have to do with it? You really want me, Brandon. You never did. We sort of clung on to each other through high school; everyone's favourite couple. But we were a life preserver for each other. I know what you saved me from. What was I saving you from?"

He looked like he was going to cry. For a moment, I thought he might tell me, and then he looked away. I suddenly realized something I should have known from the start. I did go to the bed then and sat next to him. I took his hand. 

"It's not going to happen, Brandon. I'm going to go my way, and you go yours." I squeezed his hand. "But I do wish you the best. We had some good times, didn't we?" I remembered the excitement of that first kiss so long ago on the junior high dance floor, the disco lights spraying tiny fireworks in the dark. He squeezed my hand back.

"The room is paid for. Why don't you enjoy it? Have some wine, relax." He gathered up his stuff and headed for the door. "I did love you, Cass. Just not in that way."

I didn't love Brandon. I never did. But I was fond of him, especially now that I understood everything. I blew him a kiss and he was gone. 

I sighed, looking around the room. It was beautiful, Brandon's staged seduction a wonderful sham. Flowers everywhere, the bottle of champagne. I was a few months shy of being legally allowed to drink but what the hell. I poured myself a glass, feeling very grown up. I drew a bath and poured in the expensive bubble stuff the hotel provided. 

It was a strange night, an important one. I felt like I'd just passed the finish line, crossed some important milestone in my life but I didn't know what. I just felt more sure of myself, for the first time in years. I knew who I was. I was Cass. And I didn't need anything from any man.  My whole life stretched out before me. Not the meticulous road map I had carefully crafted over the years. But still a plan, as uneasy as I was with it.

I should have been glad to have been going to university in the fall, but it still felt like a letdown. Not really for me, but I wasn't really sure what was yet. But for the first time in my life, I was confident I would figure everything out. I was capable and I would carve out a life for myself that was peaceful, beautiful based on what I wanted, not what I thought I needed. 

All this self reflection made me hungry. As soon as I got out of the bath and wrapped myself in the fancy bathrobe and put my hair in a towel, I decided to order room service. Realizing I hadn't eaten all day, I ordered a lot of food — a club sandwich and fries, a caesar salad and slab of chocolate cake for dessert. After all I was celebrating my liberation.

I had just finished blow drying my hair when a knock came to the door. I opened it and stepped back.

Tommy stood there, wincing in pain. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his neck. "Ow," he said, wobbling on his feet. "I turned my ankle falling out of your tree."

"My tree? What the hell happened."

"I'll tell you the whole thing," he said, limping past me into the room. My heart swelled to see him, to know he was okay. 

He mumbled something under his breath; something I couldn't quite make out. Sounded like "well, almost everything."