Becoming More Read online

  I haven’t spent as much time with Sander as I thought I would get with him, because our schedules are extremely different. He’s taking quite a few night classes, while most of my classes are over by 1pm. It’s made it nearly impossible to find time together to defuse the damage that was done in the first week as we moved into our dorms. We try to see each other at least every other day, but even those meetings have been troublesome and quick. Though I brace for another fight, I have no idea what trouble I would actually uncover tonight.

  When we were in high school, grades were always the foremost priority to Sander. He set his mind on Stone Oak, and he wanted a full scholarship.

  He got them both. He did beyond well on his SAT’s, and with his grades and GPA he was destined for greatness. His parents were proud when they heard the news, but they didn’t expect anything less from him. They were more than a little upset when they heard I would be attending the same school as Sander. They told us as much. “This girl will only get in the way.” I can recall it as though it were yesterday.

  Sander had proudly stood up for me, then. He explained calmly that he had been with me throughout all of high school and had managed to go above and beyond their standards for him. I enjoyed watching his mother flounder for a smart-ass remark and retort back with absolutely nothing.

  Tonight, the plan is to go over to his dorm room and stay the night. It’s Thursday, his last class is over at 9:00 pm. I figure he’s most likely busy this weekend with whatever party he has decided to go to as well as with catching up on his homework, so we should adapt accordingly.

  I’m relieved to have alone time with Sander. Bryan will most likely be out according to Sander, so I don’t need to worry about him. A big fraction of me is happy that Bryan won’t be there to get in the way, but another, much smaller, part of me was hoping he would so that I could prove to Sander that I was willing to try and get along with his roommate.

  Right now I’m making my way back to my dorm after having a quick dinner. Even though it’s quite the trudge across campus, I don’t mind. Though I prefer the night sky and the stars, being outdoors is always welcome. The sun is just now starting to set, and it peeks out over the tallest building on campus—the art building. The bright oranges and pinks flicker against the blueness of the sky. It looks like someone took a brush and dipped it into different watercolors and blended them into the atmosphere. It’s magical looking. It makes me miss home. I wouldn’t mind being back in our field, looking up at this perfect sky, but seeing it on my walk back to my dorm is fine as well.

  A commotion stirs around me as I walk. Once I’m finally able to tear my eyes away from the heavens, I look around me. Some students are rushing past me to make it to their next class; others are walking relatively slowly as I am, creating a traffic jam. To the side, there are students with blankets placed across the grass near the fountain in the center of campus and either reading or doing homework. Even with the hustle and bustle of people shuffling from one class to another, I still find the sight of the tall, blue ceiling of the world relaxing.

  By the time I make it to my dorm, Lauren is already home. She still has night classes to go to this evening. She smiles at me as I enter the room, and then she returns her attention back to her homework. This is strange behavior for Lauren. Usually she waits until the last minute to finish any of her work. She’s been like this since middle school.

  “What are you doing?” I wonder out loud.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” she says back and throws her pencil at me.

  I giggle at her and throw the pencil back to her, diving onto her bed, “I’m just a little shocked, I guess.”

  “Why?”

  “Are you actually asking me that?”

  Lauren rolls her eyes, “It’s due in an hour.”

  “Hah!” I laugh. “And you had the nerve to try and make me feel bad for my assumption?”

  “Shut it!” she whines. “Why don’t you help me? I’m trying to write out some ideas for this paper. I haven’t come up with much.”

  “Sure,” I say quickly and take the assignment from her hands so I can read the topic she’s supposed to be writing about. Before I get a chance to read it, she takes the paper from my hands and tosses it on the ground. She lies back on her bed and drags me backward with her.

  “I thought you wanted help?” I ask, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Screw it. I’m tired, and I miss you.” Lauren turns onto her side and rests her head on her arm. “Do you think you and Sander will make it through college?” she asks me.

  I take a deep breath, and then turn towards her. Her blonde bangs have grown out enough that they keep falling into her eyes. She has to push them out of her way every few seconds.

  “We have to,” I say and then fall back onto my back.

  “Why?” she asks. I look over at her, and curiosity is plain on her face. But that’s not all that’s on her face. The obvious expression is curiosity, but there’s something else. That unknown something makes her upper lip twitch slightly. Is it guilt? Why would she feel guilty? I assume it’s probably for asking me about Sander when she knows how upset I’ve been with him recently.

  “I love him, Lauren. He’s all I’ve wanted for four years now.”

  “Yeah but I don’t want the same things I wanted in high school,” she says a little too kindly. She’s bringing out the fake Lauren, and I don’t know why.

  “I’m sure you still want some things that you wanted in high school. You still want to be my best friend, right?”

  She rolls her eyes, “That’s not the same thing.”

  “Sure it is. You love me. I love you, and I also love Sander. I don’t want to lose him, Lauren. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure we work out.”

  “What if Sander doesn’t want to work it out?” she says with bated breath.

  I sit up quickly and glare down at her, “Lauren what are you saying? Do you know something that I don’t? Has he told you he doesn’t want to be with me!?” I say frantically.

  She sits up and grabs my shoulder, “It’s nothing like that. I was just wondering ‘what if.’”

  She’s lying to me. I don’t know what she’s hiding, but she’s hiding something bigger—and it’s scaring me.

  “Lauren…” I start, but she interrupts me.

  “No, Lilly. Seriously. It’s nothing. I was just wondering. Sander loves you,” she says with a frown.

  “What’s going on?” I beg. If something is going on with Sander, I have to know what it is. I need to know. She’s hiding something from me. I can feel it.

  “Damn it, Lilly! Nothing! Let it go!” Lauren yells and hurries off the bed. She grabs her books and laptop and throws them into her backpack and then runs out of the door in a hurry. She doesn’t look back at me. She says nothing else, and it leaves me with a frightful feeling. I’m being left out of something important, and I have no idea what it is. It either has to do with Lauren or Sander—but what is it?

  I start packing a bag for staying the night over at Sander’s. I’m moving through the motions as I let my mind take hold of me. Does Sander want to break up with me? Did his parents finally talk him out of being with me? Did he find out about the parties I’ve been going to? Does he know I was attracted to another guy? Is he tired of all the drama between us, and decided it would be best to just end it now—that we aren’t worth the effort any longer?

  My heart is pounding in overtime, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I clench my fist into my stomach, trying to breathe. It’s not working. I’m on the verge of an anxiety attack. My breath is coming rapidly now. My breaths are short, unproductive. I can hear each thump of my heart beating in my ears. My hands are shaking as I lift them to pull my hair into a ponytail.

  I grab my water bottle and chug a mouthful and start to calm down. If Sander wanted to break up with me he wouldn’t have agreed to me staying the night, would he? Oh god… What if when I go over there tonight, he breaks up with m
e, and then I have to walk all the way back to my dorm a broken wreck?

  No. Sander wouldn’t do that to me. He loves me. He wouldn’t hurt me like that. He wants to be with me. He has to want to be with me. We’re meant to be. We’ve had too many good times together. We’ve had so many laughs. We’ve enjoyed each other too much. He wants me too much. I want him too much.

  Repeating this over and over again calms me down. Now I tell myself that Lauren was just hormonal, or pissy, about some guy that doesn’t want to be with her. I remind myself to bother her more about it later. Maybe she’s really into a guy, and he’s not returning her affections.

  After hours of boredom, homework, and looking at the clock every five minutes, it’s nearly 9:00pm when I finally leave my room. As I walk over to Sander’s dorm building, I take out my phone and start to delete all my texts from Colton. I don’t want any unnecessary drama. If Sander were to see I’ve been texting another guy, it would just be another night of fighting—best if I just delete them all. We need a night where nothing gets in the way of our happiness. I turn my phone on silent, so that I won’t even know if Colton or Clarissa text me. No phone for me tonight—just Sander.

  Deep down I know I shouldn’t feel the need to delete these texts if I really wasn’t doing anything wrong. It’s a sign that I honestly know the way I feel about Colton is more than just simply “friendship.” However, I also understand that I am not willing to throw away what I have with Sander. It’s not even a question in my mind, not an option. Sander and I will work out. This funk that we are in won’t last, and I’ll realize that the only reason I found any attraction towards Colton was because I was missing the connection that I used to have with Sander. Once that connection returns to where it was before we came to college, I know everything will be better.

  Finally arriving at Sander’s dorm, I knock and wait outside until someone opens the lobby door for me to go up the stairs to his room. Music is pounding loudly enough that it shakes his door. I can hear the steady rattle of the doorknob jiggling with the beat of the bass. I knock a few times, but I know it’s in vain. It would be shocking if he could hear bombs going off over the music. Deciding that I’m tired of waiting I twist the knob and push the door open wide. My eyes struggle to make sense of what is in front of me; smoke fills the room. I take a deep breath and a sweet, earthy, yet foul smell fills my nostrils. I know that smell. Not because I have ever done it before or had any friends that did it around me, but I’ve smelled it at the larger concerts I’ve been too. It’s pot.

  “Sander,” I say loudly.

  I squint and look around. I see Sander and Bryan sitting on their futon couch. They are playing a video game. I always thought that if someone smoked, they would get extremely calm. But both Sander and Bryan are shaking. Their legs are bouncing up and down, their arms are barely able to hold onto the controllers. I watch Sander for a moment. He’s never done drugs before, at least not that I know of. His eyelids are half lowered, like he can’t hold them open any more than what they are.

  I walk over in front of the television and stare at Sander, “What. Are. You. Doing?” I question. I try to not breathe too heavily. I don’t want to suck in any more of the smoke than I have to.

  “Lilly?” Sander questions and tries to focus on me.

  There is no way he has only been smoking, I decide. He’s on something else too. He has to be. His eyes are red, his words slurring. He stands up and walks over to me slowly and clumsily.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” he says simply with a happy smile and then looks towards Bryan. “Yo, Bryan, pass Lilly the blunt.”

  Bryan laughs, “Come and get it, little bitch.”

  Sander laughs.

  What in the hell? “Sander I don’t want any of that. What are you on?”

  “Aw, baby girl, don’t be mad. It’s just some mary jane.” He winks at me. Though it looks more like a twitch.

  I back up to the door to get away from him. I don’t know this Sander. He’s always cared about his appearances. If his parents knew he was doing drugs, they would kill him. Not to mention the fact that he’s okay with another guy talking to and treating me the way Bryan does. Does he really think he can fool me? I wouldn’t be so worried if he was just high from marijuana. But something is off—way off.

  “I’m not stupid, Sander. You aren’t just high off of pot. What else are you on? Pills? Heroine? Coke? Tell me!” I scream.

  He marches over to me and puts his face up against mine. I can feel the tip of his nose graze mine. I look into his eyes. He’s having a hard time focusing on me, but I can see him clearly. What I see, I don’t like. I don’t know what drugs can do to someone, besides health-wise. I don’t know how it’s going to affect him mentally, how it’ll change him.

  He leans in and wraps his hand around my neck. His other hand reaches to my face and he parts my lips with his thumb. Out of nowhere, his lips are on mine. His tongue shoves into my mouth. I try to push him away, but he won’t budge.

  I try to make sense of what is going on around me, to me, but then I realize that I’m pushed completely against the door. Sander’s body is pressing hard against mine. His tongue is merciless. My hands are on his shoulders struggling to push him away over and over again. I try to clamp my lips shut, but he won’t allow it.

  I’m really beginning to freak out. My adrenaline rapidly accelerates my heart rate, fueling my anger and concern. I don’t know just how far Sander will take this before he stops.

  His left hand that was once at my chin is now reaching up my shirt. He reaches my right breast and starts to squeeze. On a normal day that would turn me on. Right now it frightens me. Bryan’s in here, and I hear him laughing. He won’t be of any help. I try once more to push him away, but still he relents. I can’t take anymore. I bite down on his tongue. The metallic taste of blood lingers in my mouth as he pulls away. He’s furious. I’ve never seen him so angry.

  He looks murderous. His eyes have come alive and he’s shaking like a leaf. For the first time in my life, I’m scared of Sander, truly worried about what he is going to do. Before I can move away or cover myself, his right hand that was holding the back of my neck turns and is now holding my neck in the front. He’s going to choke me. I have only a moment to think about that before I start feeling the pressure of his fingertips squeezing me.

  My eyes widen. I slap at his arms and try pulling at his fingers. I can’t breathe. No air is getting into my lungs. My eyes start to water. I try taking a deep breath through my nose. Nothing. He’s not going to stop. He’s going to kill me. He’s so high that he has no remorse or conscious thought of what he’s doing right now.

  He steps closer to me, and puts his lips up against mine. Not kissing. “Don’t you ever fucking do that shit again,” he says calmly. Too calm. Bloodcurdlingly calm.

  My eyes are starting to black out. Suddenly, I remember the ‘Defense Against Rape’ class I took in high school. With all the strength I can muster, I shove my knee up into his groin. He moans and releases my throat. I take a deep, refreshing breath. I should be gasping for air, but instead I turn around and whip open the door behind me, and run out. I run down the hall, down the stairs, and I don’t stop until I’m outside.

  Once I’m outside, I hide. I don’t know how long I’ll hide, but that’s not my concern. I’m afraid that Sander is going to come barreling out of those doors and find me. Once I find a hidden spot behind a tree where I’m sure he can’t find me, I fall to the ground, drinking in as much air as I can take into my lungs.

  There is a brisk chill in the air tonight. I know, because the hairs which are raised on the back of my neck are blowing in the wind, and I find myself shivering—from both the aftermath of my adrenaline rush and what feels like a much colder night than I remember. The entire campus seems too empty, because no one is mingling around outside. I’m pleased with the emptiness, because that means no one will see me crying underneath this tree. No one will see m
e clutching my throat with one hand and holding my waist with the other. Both my throat and my lungs ache.

  I reach into my purse and pull out my cell phone. Without thinking too much about it, I dial a number. It only rings once before his voice answers.

  “Lilly, what are you up to?” Colton says happily. I can hear the smile in his voice and feel slightly guilty for not being able to return his happiness.

  “Colton,” I choke out. My voice is rasped. It’s painful to say the word. The sound of my own voice and the memories of what just transpired makes me begin to cry harder.

  “Lilly? What’s wrong?” he says, alarmed.

  “Can you come get me?” I pause and try to clear my throat, “I’m so sorry. You’re probably busy. But please?”

  “Where are you?” he questions. I hear him telling someone that he has to go somewhere. A door closes behind him and his car door slams shut.

  “By Meyer’s Hall.” I look around back towards the dorm. No one is there. I guess Sander doesn’t even care that he hurt me. I wipe at my eyes.

  “I’ll be there in five minutes,” he says.

  I hang up before he can start asking questions. It hurts too much to speak, and right now I’m more worried that Sander will come outside and hear me and find me. I stand up, look around, and then run towards the parking lot so that Colton will be able to see me when he gets here, glancing behind me every few seconds.

  When Colton arrives he doesn’t even bother parking his car. He simply throws it into park on the side of the road nearest where I stand and jumps out of the driver’s side. He rushes towards me. I’ve already wiped the tears and most of the mascara from under my eyes. I can’t hide the puffiness or redness; it’s inevitable that he’ll notice. I just hope he doesn’t ask too many questions, though, that seems like a ridiculous thing to hope. I know he’s going to wonder why I called him. I’m asking myself the very same question. I tell myself it’s because Lauren is busy and doesn’t have a car anyway. Or it’s because I didn’t want to bother Clarissa. However, why would I be willing to drag Colton out of his house or wherever he was to pick me up from my boyfriend’s dorm?