Expect the Unexpected

Shea: Chapter 9

Shea: Chapter 9

            I've been crying all afternoon; I can't seem to get over what Anthony said to me last night in the car. The memory of what he said feels like a bad dream, but the pain that his words inflicted feels as real as a third degree burn. I was really drunk last night, but I still have vivid memories of everything that occurred.

            It all started when Julian joined me in the corner of Asia's kitchen. We started dancing, and he stuck his hand down my pants. I remember feeling nauseous; not because of the alcohol, but because of the fact that something that once felt so right, was starting to feel so wrong. I remember playfully pushing him away because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Julian and I have been sleeping together since freshman year. I've always said yes to him; how could I suddenly start to tell him no? When Julian lifted me up to take me upstairs, I buried my head in his chest; the room had started to spin. I remember feeling like I was going to disappear. I just needed for him to carry me to Asia's bedroom, and then I'd be able to tell him that we couldn't sleep together anymore. He'd understand; Julian always understands. He's persistent, and cocky, but he understands that no means no. Before we were able to ascend the staircase, Anthony barricaded it. He reached for me, and a sense of calm washed over my body. I remember thinking that he was my superman; he arrived just in time to rescue me from awkward situations, and from pushy ex-lovers. I struggled free of Julian, and reached for my knight in shining armor, but right before I fell into his embrace, something yanked me back. Julian started to bombard me with questions that I couldn't answer, and I became overwhelmed by this feeling of uncertainty. Who was Anthony in relation to me? I remember being yanked back and forth like the knotted rope in a competitive game of tug of war. My arms were starting to hurt, when Anthony shoved Julian. I remember watching Julian fall to the ground like a sack of bricks, as Anthony punched him over and over again. Blood spurted from Julian's nose and mouth as he laid there, unconscious.  Anthony's knuckles were bloody as pummeled Julian, and I started to cry; there was too much blood. I remember pulling Anthony off of Julian; the back of his hoody felt so soft, like soapsuds. Asia came over then, and said something to Anthony. When Anthony reached for me, I got scared; I thought that he was going to hurt me like he had hurt Julian. He couldn't seem to control himself.

            When Anthony called me a bitch in the car last night, I slapped him, hard. His face was already bleeding from the fight, but I made it worse. I wanted to hurt Anthony the way that he'd hurt me when he called me a bitch so I told Anthony that I loved Julian. But I wasn’t lying when I told him that; I do love Julian. I've been sleeping with him for 4 years, and it's been incredible. He's one of my closest friends. We're joined at the hip in school, and we've always supported each other. He understands the injustice of racism better than I do, and he's always the first person to stand up for equality. Julian protects me like a father, he cares about me like a brother, and he makes love to me like a lover. Although Julian's positive traits outweigh his negative ones, they still keep me from loving him the way that I love Anthony; yes, I love Anthony. I wish that I could have explained all of this to Anthony last night. If I had been sober, I would have told him that he could never replace Julian because Julian is my best friend. I would have told him that I love Julian, but I'm not in love with Julian. I would have told Anthony that I'm in love with him. I'll probably never get another chance to tell him any of this. He'll probably never speak to me again.

            I grab a tissue from the Kleenex box beside me on the couch, and I cover my face with it as I sob. I don't want my siblings to come downstairs and see me crying. I'm going to pretend that this skimpy tissue can hide the fact that I'm crying my heart out over a stupid, Italian, heartthrob. I'm sniffling and watching Westside Story, when I hear the front door open. My mom just left for work, but she's probably coming back to make sure that I'm ok. She already bought me some ice cream and cookies, and I feel guilty for causing her to worry about me.