THE RATLIFFE HOUSE - Chapter Four
THE RATLIFFE HOUSE - Chapter Four
I spent the money from my week at Barker’s to buy the last few things I needed for my trip and to make an extra payment on my credit cards. The semester rolled by and six weeks later I was packing up my suitcase. I timed everything just right so I wouldn’t have to spend more than a couple of days at home. I’d barely heard anything from Trish the last few weeks but figured she was just super busy with getting ready for her internship or something. Still, when she hadn’t offered to come say goodbye or anything, I was looking for an excuse to go see her.
My opportunity arrived when I found a sweater she’d let me borrow buried in the bottom of my dresser. I saw her live on Instant Messenger and asked if I could swing by on my way home. When she said yes, I finished packing up, turned over my dorm key to the RA, and dragged the final remains of my junior year out to my car.
Trish knew the drive from Evanston to Hyde Park took almost an hour, so I was surprised that when I knocked on her apartment door, no one answered. Wasn’t she expecting me by now? I knocked again and, after a minute, tried the handle. The door gave way. Cautiously, poked my head in.
“Trish?” I called.
“Yeah,” came her muffled reply from somewhere down the hallway. I closed the door behind me and wandered to her room. Trish was sitting on her bed, her back to me, holding something in her hand. Her room, usually neat and organized, was a whirlwind of open suitcases, papers, and rumpled sheets.
“You okay?” I asked, coming around the bed.
Even though her head was drooping and her bobbed black hair hung in her face, I could see she’d been crying. Glancing down, I noticed a silver wrapper in her hand that looked like a condom packet.
“Nope,” Trish whispered. She sniffed, but didn’t say anything else.
I sat down beside her. “What’s going on?”
She coughed. “I was cleaning out my desk and found this.” She stared at the condom in her hand.
“Um, okay.”
She avoided my eyes, staring at the ceiling instead. “I guess I never told you about Brian.”
I shook my head.
“He was this guy from the student paper. We used to hang out a lot, see each other at parties and stuff. So one night, around Valentine’s Day, we decided we’d be friends … with benefits.”
She looked at me to see if I understood. I nodded.
“I thought I was so smart.” She sniffed, as though indignant with herself. “That it was a great idea. I didn’t have time for a real relationship. This was the perfect arrangement. We’d both get what we wanted. We had a schedule, y’know … when we’d meet up. And I started to look forward to it. Like, a lot. And then one day, right around spring break, he told me he was ending it. That he’d met someone.” Her voice trembled and tears started running down her face again.
“I said it was fine—that’s what we’d agreed to. Whenever one of us wanted to stop, we would stop. But I didn’t want to! And then I found out who the other girl was, this little blonde freshman who could barely string three words together. She’d just started at the paper in the spring.”
She turned toward me, her black eyes full of pain. “I had to see them together all the time. At every editorial meeting, at every review, all over campus. I wanted to wring her tiny neck with my bare hands!” She clenched her fists. “I wanted to punch him in the face and scream! And every day I looked in the mirror and asked myself, ‘Why not me?’ Why wasn’t I good enough for him? Am I too Asian? Too smart? Too ugly? Do I wear the wrong clothes? I don’t know, Lucy! I just couldn’t … I couldn’t figure it out!”
Trish started sobbing uncontrollably, and I did the only thing I knew. I put my arm around her and let her cry, watching as she squeezed and crushed the silver wrapper in her hand. Finally, she calmed down a little, and I grabbed some tissues for her from the bathroom. She wiped her face and threw the wet tissues and the condom in the trash can by her desk. “Thanks,” she said to me with a sad smile.
“Yeah, no problem,” I said. “Hey listen, at least you don’t have to see him this summer, right?”
She gave a rueful look. “Yeah.”
“And I mean, I’m sure there’s other guys out there who aren’t like that. Maybe you’ll meet someone … nicer.”
Her back stiffened. When she spoke, her voice was cold. “No, I don’t think so. Not for me, anyway. I’m done with men.”
I felt helpless to do anything else, so I suggested we go off campus and get something to eat. We went to our favorite pizza place, and I even got her to laugh and tell me what she was excited about for her internship. When I dropped her off she seemed in a better mood, and I wasn’t as worried. Still, I couldn’t get the image of that condom out of my mind. It had never occurred to me that my best friend would turn sex into a business deal. She was so pretty, and fun, and smart. Was “friends with benefits” really all she thought she had to offer?
“I’m done with men.” That reminded me of what my mom always told me as a teenager. “Boys only want one thing.” I knew the one thing was supposed to be sex, but I didn’t understand why they didn’t want love too. Or didn’t care about women’s feelings. I guess I just didn’t understand. Besides, it’s not like boys were the only ones who wanted sex.
I turned the car onto the overpass heading toward home. I guessed Mom and Frank were in love, but I had no clue what my mom saw in Frank. She was still pretty for her age, and she took good care of herself. She was successful and smart, the big-time boss lady at her office. Did that mean Frank only wanted one thing from her? Or her from him? Yuck. Last thing I wanted to think about was my mom’s sex life.
I made a mental note to go to bed early so I didn’t have to spend much time with them together. Two more days and they’d be dropping me off at the airport. And I guess if there was going to be any summer romance for me this year, I’d better make sure it didn’t turn out like Trish’s relationship. If you could even call it one.
