Why did I agree to this? I can barely stomach the thought of Lee, let alone physically be in his presence. Yet, here I am, engulfed by the bucket seats of my boyfriend Isaac's Hyundai Tiberon. I silently contemplate if I should tuck and roll out of the car before reaching his brother Lee's house. His girlfriend Alyssa just left him, so he decided to invite us and their little brother Ethan to his place to drink. I, being sympathetic, said we should go despite Isaac's apprehension.
I look out the passenger seat window as the subwoofer in the trunk rattles the car, sending vibrations that can be felt deep within my sternum. I try to produce a story in my head as a distraction for what's to come; however, the tinted window coupled with the winter night fed nothing to my imagination. So instead, I loll my head to the left, focusing my attention on Isaac. It's not like we'd talk during this car ride, so I let my gaze rove his awkward face unabashedly for the first time in nine years.
The thing my eyes have always gravitated toward on his face was his aquiline nose; it was the most expansive set nose I had ever seen. I follow the large shape upward to his eyes, deep-seated and almond-shaped. Regardless of the dark car, I could still see the rich brown color with Piscean wateriness to them. Quickly shifting my gaze toward his chin that sported a goatee, desperate to hide the heaviness that settled underneath it due to his drinking. A small mouth sat with puckered lips; he didn't have a philtrum. Which, now that I think about it, has always bugged me.
There was a lot about Isaac that bugged me compared to when I first met him. When I look at his face now, crippling resentment burns in my chest; if I ever had heartburn, this is what I think it would feel like. I mean, here I sit, twenty-four years old, utterly dependent on him for transportation and employment—a depressed and miserable high school dropout. I guarantee Isaac views me as the same naïve girl whose mom was too preoccupied with her new boyfriend. She didn't give a damn what her youngest daughter was doing.
She gave up with me; she told me when she and my dad separated at fourteen, "I want to do something for myself for once; I've raised you, kids, now it's my turn to be selfish." Isaac's predatory instincts sniffed me out, knowing that I was a neglected, attention-starved child, the perfect prey. Taking advantage of my vulnerable state he groomed me into someone who suited him. The silver-tongued devil fed me lies to keep me complacent and reliant. He continually told me that getting my GED and going to college would be pointless.
I couldn't help but wish my parents hadn't been neglectful; maybe they could have stopped me from doing this irreversible damage. Because now look at me, three years away from being Charlotte Lucas: no money, no prospects, and frightened. I never wanted this life for myself; I wanted to graduate and go off to college. I dreamed of living independently in a dingy New York City apartment, figuring out who I was and what I wanted. I pictured having a group of eclectic people as my friends, all of us trying to navigate our way through life.
As my eyes continue boring holes into the side of his face, an adolescent belief I used to have pops into my head. Everyone has trees living inside them, which, now that I think about it, was a wise thought for such a young mind. When we're young, our parents and environment nurture our inner trees, and then at some point, we must begin to feed our trees. Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to provide for my tree; I killed my tree, trying to help his tree flourish.
The grinding sound of the gear shifter, followed by the jingling keys, alerts me that we're here. Isaac opens his door, not even glancing in my direction. As we make our way to the house, the familiar out-of-place feeling comes crawling back into my consciousness. Suddenly my clothes felt constricting; I involuntarily suck in my stomach, and I round my shoulders trying to appear smaller. Then, walking up to the white door and knocking, it swings open aggressively, displaying an already drunk Lee.
I thought to myself, "Great; he would be more obnoxious than usual," we file into the kitchen, where Lee begins to rattle off our choice of beverages. I didn't fail to notice they are all alcohol-related. I don’t drink; I despise the taste of it regardless of how fruity it is, meaning I'd never been drunk. However, I decide to take him up on his offer of Guinness. I make the offhand comment, "my Irish ancestors will be so disappointed it's taken me this long to try it" in the process.
Thus, opening the discussion of my heritage along with Isaac doubting my palate for it. Once we all had our refreshments, we stand around the dining room table between the kitchen and living room. Lee began to question why Isaac hadn't married me yet, stating "if she were my girl, her belly would be out to here.” He demonstrates a pregnant stomach with his hand. I was dumbfounded, my face morphing into that of a fish; I glance over at Isaac with wide eyes and mouth agape. I can physically feel the heat of anger rolling off him.
This furthered my surprise since Isaac was cowardly. He hated confrontation, especially with Lee, who unapologetically harassed me for simply existing since I met him. He has managed to fat shame me, degrade my lifestyle choices, and knighted me with the titles libtard and feminazi. Thankfully, Ethan suggests Isaac provide refills which shakes me from my daze. My eyes follow Isaac as he retreats into the kitchen, inevitably meeting Lee's who blocks their path.
I was smitten with Lee the first time I met him. He had naturally round hazelnut-colored eyes, a straight nose with a rounded tip, and full lips that followed. But what screamed at me was the long brown hair that used to touch his shoulders; I was a sucker for guys with long hair. Lee hadn't changed much, except natural weight gain that came with age and, due to his receding hairline, he cut his hair short. Quickly averting my sight from him, I head toward the massive black leather sectional that put the one Isaac and I had to shame.
I settle into the far right of the couch positioned next to the floor-to-ceiling length windows. Balancing my drink on the arm, I rest my head against the back cushion. Closing my eyes, music on the television lull me into memory from earlier today. I begin to picture the man I had seen at work. Frank, that was his name; I finally found it out after striking up a game with my boss Natalie. Isaac and I worked together at a warehouse, I was an assembler, and he was in the woodshop. I was talking to Natalie one day after she inquired about my interest in astrology.
After telling her I had a whole bookshelf dedicated to the topic, it prompted her to begin pointing to coworkers and have me guess their zodiac sign. Until he walked past us, the most physically beautiful man I had ever seen. I couldn't produce a single coherent thought. I just stared in complete awe, desperation crawling around on the inside of my stomach. Finally, I somehow managed to turn to Natalie and ask, "Who is he?" to which she monotonously replied, "that's Frank."
As he finally walked past me, I had a split second to devour his physiognomy. Instantly I gathered that he was tall, which compared to my stature, everyone was. He was lanky, dressed in medium-washed jeans and a short-sleeved button-up flannel patterned with black and dark grey checkers. A black beanie covered the top of his head, but I noticed a ponytail of dark brown hair that extended to the middle of his back. Shifting back toward his profile, I saw round bulging eyes. His nose resembled that of Greek God; it was straight with a pointed tip, symmetrical in every way. His cheeks and square jaw were concealed by dark coarse hair; his thin lips lay bare. His facial expression was impassive, which made the corners of my lips turn up slightly in a smirk.
My first thought was that this man looks as miserable as I feel; unfriendly, aloof, and most undoubtedly unapproachable. But then, just as quickly as he arrived, he, along with his steely gaze, was gone, leaving me with my work and a racing heartbeat. Instantly, the feeling that I recognized this person struck me.
I know it sounds bizarre as if I'm indulging in a fairytale. But after realizing that Isaac and I weren't right for each other, I knew there had to be someone out there who was. But how does anyone know? Is it possible that lightning would strike whoever they were, marring them with a special symbol? For instance, in The Hobbit, Gandalf marks Bilbo's door with the three runes for only the dwarves to see. I saw my rune in Frank; he was it.
"Do you know when his birthday is?" I inquired.
"No one knows Frank. He doesn't talk to anyone; no one knows anything about him. Try and guess it," Natalie challenged.
My eyebrows crease at the unexpected sensation of a weight covering my knee. I am startled out of my thoughts, remembering that I am in Lee’s house.
I pick my head up, my eyes snapping open, unsure of where to look first. Glancing down toward my knee is a hand, and trailing the length of the arm I come face to face with Lee. He sits directly in front of me on the ottoman, leaving no space between us. I look to my right; Ethan is sitting watching us, missing my panicked expression. Isaac is nowhere in sight.
My heart begins to palpitate at the slow incline of his hand; I try looking everywhere but his eyes. The avoidance doesn’t slow him down; he doesn’t stop until the tips of his fingers nudge the outer labia of my vagina. I choke on my spit, darting up out of the couch, faintly acknowledging the spilled drink. Before I know what I am doing, I shout, "Isaac!" I frantically search for him, and faintly hear Lee call "no, no, don't do that!" behind me.
Finally, I find him in one of the bedrooms; my brain pumping out thoughts so quickly I am sure it is going to short circuit. I can't do anything when I reach him, unable to utter a single word. He stares back at me as if waiting for me to confirm his suspicions that Lee messed up, but I can’t. I just kept remembering all the moments Isaac could have defended me before and failed, so I don’t tell him. Instead, I swallow the words and panic that follows them, squeaking out, "what are you doing?" Deafening silence follows until finally, he says, "we're leaving."
Lee found his way into the bathroom to throw up during that shared moment. While Isaac gets our coats from the kitchen, I stand in the living room with Ethan and his girlfriend, who suggests I take what transpired to the grave with me. "Lee is drunk and probably just confused you with a random girl at a bar," Ethan mutters nonchalantly. I reel back, gawking at Ethan as if he had just struck me. Did he just say that? I shake my head as if to try removing the proposal that was stated.
That's it, I thought; I need to get as far away from this family and Isaac as possible. I am going to make my move, follow my rune. As Isaac and I pile back into the car, I can't decipher if the chill was emitting from the bitter November night or Isaac. He doesn’t look at me nor speak to me the whole time. I silently revel in it; it allows me to begin to think of ways to break it to him. Tell him that I am unhappy, that I am leaving, and the most brutal admission that I don’t love him anymore.
Photo by Samantha Whitehead
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