Have Me Forever by Ally Blythe

4

Eli

I’m not proud of it. It’s imperative I put that on record, even if only in my mind. I’ve been actively avoiding the Baker household for over a month now. Ang told me he’s been there more than usual, and she hates spending time with him, so it took little convincing to go on dates elsewhere.

Once with Tom and Vi, and once to a party on campus. So, is it actually avoiding Mr. Baker if Ang doesn’t want to be at home either?

Besides, we only have five weeks of the spring semester left, which means I’ve been buried in projects, papers, and exams. If I’m not doing schoolwork, I want to spend time with Ang, not her dad. Not even if I looked forward to the days we would catch up as I waited for Ang to get back from one thing or another. Like that time two months ago, well before the event that never happened. I sat in the living room, waiting for Angel to get ready, as per usual. Mr. Baker walked in, clearly staring at the TV. When he saw me, he said the customary hello, but kept walking toward his room.

“Don’t leave on my account.” I picked up the remote and tossed it to him as he stood on the other side of the couch.

He caught it, but hesitated for a minute, glancing at the TV again. Taking a seat at the other end of the couch, he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not going to want to watch what I’m putting on.”

I furrowed my brows. “Why not?”

“Well, I thought I was home alone.” He twisted away from me, his thumb rubbing against the power button. Okay. That sounded… unusual. My mind short circuited, attempting to find a response. He whispered, “I have a secret obsession with Avatar: The Last Airbender…”

And I had a dirty, disturbed mind. “Oh, I love that show. Toph is my favorite.”

“Really? Angel always makes fun of me for watching it. Says I’m too old.”

I snort. That did sound like something she would say. “Well, I don’t mind. It’s for all ages. Besides, you’re not old.”

He smiled warmly. “I don’t know about that, but thanks. I’m guessing you watch it because of Miguel?”

My eyebrows popped up, stunned he remembered something so innocuous. “Yeah, actually. Good memory.”

He settled himself against the couch, shifting a few times. He put one arm up, using it as a headrest, his bicep bulging as his shirt rode up, revealing a strip of skin. “You look surprised.”

I startled and cleared my throat as my eyes flicked back to his face. I swallowed a few times to wet my dry mouth. “Well, I didn’t realize you remembered any of my siblings’ names.”

“Of course I do. You said you think your mom has him follow you around to spy on you, so you’ve spent a lot of time figuring out the best ways to distract him. Watching TV works. Building Legos does not. Ice cream definitely works.” He said it matter-of-factly, like he was checking off a list. I supposed he was, in a way. A list of distractions from personal family drama.

My mouth gaped as I tried to remember when I told him that. I knew Ang wouldn’t have told him because I didn’t talk to her about that stuff. The one time I did, she told me I was being too sensitive, and at least I had a mom who cared.

“Uh, yeah. That’s right.”

He opened the streaming service and moved around in the episode guide until he found what he was looking for. He clicked on it before tossing the remote to the side. It was the episode where Toph was introduced in the show.

Why am I thinking about Mr. Baker? Again. What I should focus on is my surprise for Ang.

Her last class lets out soon, and I want to make us dinner, even at the risk of running into him. Thinking about seeing him still has me on edge. I shiver, and squarely attribute it to the negative reaction side, because that’s where it belongs. The surprise. Focus on the surprise. On our second date, I made her a homemade carbonara with garlic bread and salad, and I got groceries to make it for her tonight. I also got a few candles and a bottle of wine, purchased by one of our upperclassmen friends, Danny. I feel like I’ve neglected our relationship, and I never want her to think she isn’t important to me.

I drive to the house and park in the driveway, noting Mr. Baker’s car is gone, which is a good sign. Ang deserves to be comfortable tonight, and she always gets prickly when I do stuff like this at her place and he’s home.

I grab the food from the back seat and let myself in with the spare key hidden in a potted plant on the porch. Once I place everything on the counter, I open the cabinet where Mr. Baker keeps his cutting boards. I grab it, a faint crying noise cutting through the quiet. I pause, listening for it again, but shrug and turn back to the task at hand. Must have been something outside.

I pick my favorite blade, which happens to be Mr. Baker’s favorite knife, gifted to him by his best friend Tony. I grab the prosciutto, but decide I’d like some music playing while I cook.

At the front of the house, I sort through his stack of vinyl, hearing the weird noise again, only this time, it’s louder. I go to the window and peek out, looking for an animal, or even a kid, but I don’t see anything. Maybe someone left a TV on upstairs? I jog up the steps, and sure enough, the noise gets louder as I land at the top.

“Fuck,” Ang calls out, her voice throaty, wild sounding. A deep groan follows her cry. Bile rises as my stomach churns, warning me not to go into her room. My feet don’t get the signal, guiding me forward, though I already know what I’ll see. I push the door open, watching Ang on her hands and knees, head bowed back as Tom drives into her from behind. “Tom. Fuck.” She sounds breathless, turned on. More into it than she’s ever sounded with me. He slaps her ass and adjusts his grip around her hair. And I can’t turn away.

He catches me first, a twisted grin curling his lips as he continues to pound into her. Mocking me. Where I should feel rage, there’s only emptiness.

Her eyes flutter open, locking on mine, her mouth widening into a horrified O. “Eli. Shit.” She pulls from Tom’s grasp, attempting to scramble off the bed.

My name snaps me out of the trance, pulling me out of the room and down the stairs. She calls out to me, yelling she’s sorry, that we’ve been drifting apart for a while, but I can’t hear any of it. I race to the kitchen, grab my keys, and hightail it to the front door, jumping out of the way when it swings open. In walks Mr. Baker, apologizing when he knocks into me, unaware of the shitshow unfolding before him.

Ang races down the stairs wearing a robe, her hair mussed from where Tom had his fingers in it, stuttering to a halt at her father’s appearance. His face pinches, looking between us, probably assuming we hooked up. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Eli. Good to see you. Angel told me about your parents grounding you all of last month. She said she was worried you’d have to move home and she wouldn’t see you as much.” I look at her, his words like jagged needles aimed at my heart. Was she worried… or excited at the prospect of getting to screw Tom without the risk of getting caught?

I stand there, speechless, feeling like the biggest idiot. He’s not done. He turns to Angel, saying, “Anyway, I should, uh, probably let you two get back to…” He winces, obviously uncomfortable.

“Dad, shut the fuck up,” Ang cries out.

He gives Angel a look, before turning back to me. “I’m interrupting something. I’ll take my leave.”

“No, Mr. Baker, I’m leaving.” If I can get my legs to work. ¡A la verga! I’m frozen to the spot, darting my gaze from Angel to Mr. Baker.

Tears pour down her cheeks and my body jerks like it wants to go to her. She might be right. We have drifted apart, and her tears still get to me, but they also make my stomach heave. How did we get here?

She attempts to reason with me again. “Babe, please don’t go. Not like this. Let’s talk.”

I look at her father, his expression growing more concerned. I force myself to turn away. He’s not the one I need to focus on right now. I shouldn’t care what he thinks about all of this. It’s not like that fucking day at the pool meant anything to him, if he even saw something. I’m nothing to him, just like I’m nothing to Angel.

Tom strolls to the top of the stairs, looking smug, and it hits me all over again. Me chingué. I am so incredibly, irrevocably screwed. Where am I supposed to go? I can’t live in the same room as him and I refuse to go home.

“Eli, buddy,” he calls out, before spotting Mr. Baker at the bottom of the stairs. His entire demeanor changes as his gaze darts to Angel, then me, wondering if I’ve ratted him out. I can’t help the laugh that breaks out—stuttering, cold, robotic. It was bad enough seeing it myself, but now Mr. Baker’s witness to my absolute humiliation. Fucking perfect.

I see the pity written on his face as I storm to the door ignoring Ang’s pleas and Tom’s sputtering. My hand’s on the knob when I hear Mr. Baker call my name. I pause at the gritty sound, but I refuse to turn. What could he possibly have to say to me?

***

I’m wallowing. I know it, I see it, I smell it. As I sniff my shirt, I wince. If wallowing was a scent, this would be it. Tom’s been AWOL as I’ve nursed my wounds, thank God. I turned my phone off after Angel’s tenth call, and Tom’s sorry-not-sorry text. That got a laugh out of me. How was I so blind? All the small touches when they were together, how she hung on his every word, not making time to see me—it all made sense. I was the dumb fuck who hadn’t realized it.

The one saving grace in all of this is that Tom hasn’t come back to the dorm once. It makes me wonder where he could be. His side of the room is still messy, clothes everywhere, but his gaming system is gone. He’s somewhere he felt comfortable enough to stay long term if he took it with him.

It hits me then. He’s at Violet’s, in her off-campus apartment. He wouldn’t, right? After getting caught, he wouldn’t go back to acting like everything was normal? I don’t want to think about it, how twisted that would be. How uncaring he would have to be to play Violet like that. Don’t have to think about it too hard, though. I have to tell her.

I turn my phone back on and call after call streams in from Angel. Apologetic at first, but angry at the end. I laugh at the last one, where she’s blaming me, telling me how angry her father is. Like I’m the one who caused all this. Fuck that. Fuck her.

And one from Tom, threatening to beat the shit out of me if I tell Violet, which gives me my answer. Lucky for me, he taped her work schedule at the bookstore’s coffee shop to his desk. I don’t want him answering her phone, or being anywhere near her when I tell her the news, so catching her at work is the best bet. Despite what my ex-best friend and ex-girlfriend think, Vi has the right to know. I check the time, and she’s going to end her shift in twenty minutes. I race to the showers, not wanting to smell like a rotting heap of garbage.

I make it to the shop with five minutes to spare, and I glance through the window, looking for Tom or Ang. Thankfully, I don’t see either. It’s been over a week, so they probably think if I was going to tell her, I already would have.

“Hey, Vi,” I call out to her as she comes around the corner. She has a bright smile, the almost-hidden freckles on her nose scrunching under the open expression.

It slips off her face as she takes me in, replaced by concern. “Hey, you okay? You don’t look so good.” I shift uncomfortably, trying to comb through the unruly black mass that is my hair. It never looks nice on a good day, so I can’t imagine what it must look like now. Apparently a shower isn’t enough to fix ten days’ worth of vegetating.

“Um. No, not really. Do you have a second to talk somewhere a little more private?” She assesses me, her look more concerned by the second. She must realize something’s up because she nods her head and pulls me through the employee-only entrance.

She turns to face me, placing a palm against my forehead, my brows furrowing at the motion. “Tom told me you were pretty sick. You should probably be resting, Eli.” She pulls her hand away, then feels her own forehead. “At least you don’t have a fever.”

That pulls a smile from me. The first one in days. “Violet, I’m not sick. I, uh, I don’t know how to say this. I’m not good with softening blows, so I think it’d be best to just come out and say it.”

A line forms on her forehead, and she waves her hand, motioning for me to continue. “Okayyy.”

I clasp my hands together, then pull out my phone with their texts and calls, shoving it at her as I blurt everything out. “Tom and Angel are sleeping together. The other night, I went over there, and they were in bed together. I… I thought you had the right to know. I’d want to know if I were in your shoes.” She scrolls through the messages, blood draining from her face. She stumbles back a few steps, so I guide her to the nearest seat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you, right?”

She shakes her head once, twice. Then, like a dam breaking, tears burst forth, running black from her mascara. “No, no, you don’t need to apologize, Eli. God… when did you find out? He… We… This morning we…” A hiccup rocks her body as more tears pour down her face. I pull her into a hug.

We sit there for a while, until she runs out of tears. When she catches her breath, we notice a buzzing sound. “It… it’s m-m-my ph-phone.” The tears pick up again, turning her voice raw and unsteady. I snatch her purse up, pulling out the phone, and sure enough, it’s Tom.

I turn the phone toward her. “You want me to answer it?” She nods her head yes, then clutches my hand. “Tom.”

“You little fucker. I’m going to kill you. I told you I’d kick your ass if you told her.” He continues to scream down the line as I pull the phone away from my ear. It makes Vi cry harder, so I release her hand and pull her into my side, wishing I could take away her pain.

“You need to be out of her house before she gets home. If you’re not, we’re calling the cops.” I don’t know if they’ll actually do anything, but it sounds serious enough. I hang up before he can respond, then turn the phone to do-not-disturb. She watches me, eyes wide, in awe. “Sorry, I should have let you make that decision…”

For a moment, she seems unsure, her gaze darting around the small space. Eventually, she straightens her shoulders and tips her head up high. “No, that’s what I want. Fuck him. Uh, th-thank you. Will you come back with me? If he’s not gone… um, I don’t want to see him.”

I’m glad she asked, because I don’t want her going back alone with Tom making those threats. “Of course. I’ll be right by your side.” I slip my hand from her shoulder, grabbing a tissue from the box to hand to her. She thanks me, wiping her cheeks. It’s a far cry from her normally flawless makeup, but it cleans the streaks. “I’ll drive. We can come back for your car later.”

She nods.

We pull up outside of her apartment building and I walk her to the door, entering before her. A key sits on her countertop along with a note. I ignore it, knowing the note is none of my business, even if it is from the pendejo.

I check every room to make sure he’s gone, then give her the all clear. “Thanks, Eli. For everything.” She hugs me again, small, infrequent sobs still stuttering through her.

I rub my neck after she lets go. “You don’t need to thank me, Vi. I did nothing worthy of a thank you. I mean, I made you cry.” To show I’m joking, I twist my face up, but it falls flat.

She looks around her apartment, looking a bit lost. “Hey. I mean this in the most platonic way possible, but… do you want to stay the night?”

I sigh. I want that. It’s been miserable all on my own. Alone in the dorm with my thoughts, it isn’t great, but the alternative is going home, which is worse. Plus, I’ve figured out my parents’ pattern. They’ll track my phone tonight to make sure I’m on campus, ready for all the tests I told them I had coming up to avoid going home. “I can stay for a while, but I can’t stay the night. I’m sorry. It’s my parents. They track my phone.”

“Oh, no. I get it. No worries. Maybe I can convince my sister to come and stay with me.” She shifts on her feet, dropping her gaze. “Can I call you? We’re still friends, right?” The words shatter me. I can hear the pain and uncertainty lacing her words, and I know once I leave here all of those emotions will threaten to overwhelm me again. It’s like staring in a mirror. When everything crashes, you don’t know what’s up or down, or who to trust, including yourself.

I pull her into a tight hug, my cheek resting on the top of her head. “We will always be friends. You call or text whenever you need me, okay? We’ll get through this together.”

She takes a long, shuddering breath, then pulls away. A small, wobbly smile crosses her face. “Yeah. You too, Eli.”