Chapter 9

For a guy that enjoyed having casual sex with several women a week if I was lucky, I wasn’t much of a partier. I was more into talking to people one-on-one, and seeing where things went from there. Even if I was looking for someone to share a bed with for the night, trying to put the moves on someone in any kind of public setting felt weirdly wrong. Almost disrespectful. It was super clear that a party wasn’t my type of atmosphere, even before I wound up going with Molly.

Well, ‘going with Molly.’ It didn’t really count as going with her, seeing as she had no idea I was there. One side of me knew that I couldn’t reveal myself. Even with the amount of time that had passed, I couldn’t just re-inject myself back into her life. But at the same time ... I had to protect her. Yes, I could protect her from myself, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other things she needed protection from too.

Probably most of those things co-existed together perfectly in the atmosphere of a party. When I got there, it was like I was hit in the face with a wall of everything. The sound, the people, the lack of space, everything. I had to shove my way through people to get to the less populated areas. Luckily for me, I wasn’t a partying type, so very few people recognized me, and fewer still made any kind of motion in my direction. Once or twice, a girl I had slept with locked eyes with me. The most any of them did was raise their eyebrows and smile a little.

That was a past life now. Ever since the winter, I couldn’t bring myself to resume my old lifestyle. I just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t just Holly I broke things off with – it was every one of them. Truth be told, there weren’t too many left. A weird truth I only myself realized about the casual sex world is that no one stays in it for too long, and if you have stayed there for long, you were usually the type that others would avoid. Some came and went because they got new boyfriends or girlfriends, some left because of a change of heart, some just left the area because they couldn’t get tied down to anything. But everyone left. I guess I was leaving too.

I needed a hobby or something. This new ground I had found wasn’t exactly an improvement. I went from sleeping around to following my own housemate when she left for a party. That said, at least I was thinking of her feelings for a change. If nothing else, this was me atoning for my past sins. It couldn’t cleanse a lifetime of sin, but perhaps it could cleanse the last few months.

That said, I wasn’t going to atone for anything by just being at the same party Molly attended, and it didn’t help matters that I couldn’t find her anywhere. I had checked the less populated areas first – the kitchen, the backyard, the basement, even the ‘introvert room,’ so named for the backwards-minded people who insisted on going to parties but also didn’t want to be around people. Frankly, as soon as I saw this party had one such room, I would have bet my last dime she’d be in that room. If I hadn’t made sure, I would have guessed she hadn’t even left the house to come here in the first place.

As time went on, the inevitable struck me. Molly wasn’t in the populated rooms, and I didn’t see her leave. Which meant either she vanished into thin air, or she was behind one of the closed doors. Private rooms. Which meant one type of thing was happening, and knowing Molly, I couldn’t be sure how comfortable she’d be with the fact it was happening.

I reduced myself to asking around, seeing if anyone even knew who Molly was. “Hey, have you seen Molly around? Molly Sharpton? I’m her ride home.” Little things that wouldn’t raise suspicion, at least not the suspicion of others. I had to admit, over time, I was getting pretty suspicious myself, and just decided to go for it. I listened at doors, and opened every door I could find. Most of the time I just found couples making out, people trying weed, or just people enjoying one-on-one ‘life chats.’

I don’t know what the fuck I was expecting when I would find Molly. I just knew that I was on autopilot. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting her to fall into my arms and forgive me for everything, but I also wasn’t expecting a reward. I just wanted to protect her. When I did end up fighting her, I got two very rude awakenings. Number one, she was on top of some guy, her top still on but clearly wearing very little else, under the covers so no one bursting in could see them, with her riding him for all she was worth. I had never seen Molly like that before, but it only took the microsecond before the guy she was riding saw me that I could see the bottles strewn across the place. I had never known Molly to drink, but clearly she had been drinking, a fair amount judging by her uncharacteristically sloppy and jagged movements.

Molly was having sex. Molly was having sex with someone other than me. Which was ... understandable, but it reminded me of my inferiority, how I fucked up, how easily replaceable I was. It would be a lie to also say I viewed Molly as the type to have sex with ... well, anyone. Which made what I did more suspect, sure, but it made me hate the guy she was riding all the more. How’d he do this, what lies did he tell her?

The second rude awakening came when I saw the guy’s face. Who else would it be? Captain Suave from first semester. Carson or whatever the fuck his name was. He never stopped trying. I backed off after it was clear that Molly didn’t want what was happening. That was the difference between us two, and now it looked like the heartless persistence had persevered. Even still, upon seeing me, as if I was the one in the wrong, Carson immediately snapped to attention and started waving me off. “Yo, shut the fucking door! Shut the door!” he repeated, using a hand to swat away at me from afar. “Babe, just stay where you are.” he told Molly. Molly froze, not daring to look forward, and in that moment, I realized how lucky I was that she wasn’t looking at me. If she saw me, saw what I was doing, she wouldn’t forgive me for still keeping this up. Carson wasn’t the villain. I just had an ability to move on.

Of course, I was realizing this while staying frozen like a dumbass. Eventually I regained myself as Carson and now Molly were telling me repeatedly to leave, with Molly not even knowing who I was. Like a zombie, I backed away a couple of steps and gingerly shut the door.

Who the fuck was Molly? I didn’t know anymore. Not shy, having sex with some guy (and it felt creepy to admit it, but I knew for a fact she considered herself single, without a partner) while high and possibly drunk. I had let her slip between my fingers like sand, and now it was clear I had lost her.

No, I couldn’t accept that. I was fighting this whole time. I had accepted Molly wasn’t mine to have. Nor anyone’s. So who the fuck was this guy? Clearly she still needed protecting if other guys were just going to swoop in and try to scoop her up. At least I was taking responsibility for my actions.

I stumbled over to a couch and sat down, sighing heavily. Like a movie, people were passing by me in fast-motion, their silhouettes becoming blurs as they all moved around me. I sat, motionless, looking at the floor, probably just looking like someone who had partied a bit too hard and was now taking it easy.

A few times someone would sit down next to me on the couch, for their own reasons. I gave them a quick glance before my gaze fell again to the floor, my mind in a flurry. At one point, I couldn’t quite remember when, I looked up at the person sitting down next to me and froze on the spot. Red hair. A distrusting but all-the-same concerned face. Molly.

She was evidently still under some sort of influence, but she wasn’t blackout drunk. She could still think coherently, or so it seemed. “What are you doing here?” she simply asked. I was amazed I could hear her small voice over the room.

I shrugged, wanting to disappear from this situation entirely. “Would you like the answer if I gave it to you?”

Her look of concern didn’t vanish. “Do you think you’re taking care of me?”

“No.” I answered honestly. “But I think I’m looking after you.”

“I don’t see the difference, Aaron.”

“One is a lot more selfish than the other.” I replied, chuckling in my honesty. “I’m not very good at giving you space.”

“I can see that.” she replied a little coldly.

“It’s my overthinking.” I tried to explain as plainly as possible. “If I hear you’re going out to a party, my mind immediately jumps to the worst-case scenario, and I’m worried. So this is a way of calming myself down. I know you hate me, but I couldn’t bear what would happen if something happened to you.”

“Please stop being so dramatic.” Molly huffed. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t like being around you. I have every reason to feel that way. I get you’re worried, but I want to be able to live my life. That means the opportunity for failure, or getting hurt. If you hurt me and now you want to make sure I never get hurt again, not only are you not letting me live my life, but the only hurt I’m going to feel is from you.” She chuckled, the first time I saw any kind of happy emotion from her since I caught her having sex. “If you want to think selfish, let me get hurt on my own terms. That way I won’t associate hurt with you and you alone.”

I nodded grimly, returning my gaze to the floor. “I get that. Like, realistically. Emotionally, I probably am not going to understand that for a while.”

“Well, write it down or something. I’m going to be way less patient with you next time.”

“There shouldn’t be a next time.” I rebutted, and returned my gaze to her. We half-smiled at each other. “Are you happy?”

“What?”

“Just, in general. These days. I never got the chance to ask you. Are you doing well, are you happy?”

“Of course I’m not.” It was her turn to break her gaze away from me. “I have moments, but yeah, no, I’m not.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” was all I could think to say.

“It’s not like I was happy when you had your way with me either.” she added, stinging me with the simplicity of her words.

“Yeah.” I croaked. “I’m sorry for that too.” Neither of us said anything for a while, even as we locked eyes again twice, the second time being much more awkward than the first. Internally, I was begging myself not to say anything stupid, but the silence in a sea of noise eventually got to me. “Can I ask a stupid, selfish question?”

“I guess.” she replied flatly.

“Did I actually mean a lot to you? I mean, I get the feelings weren’t mutual, but even just as a friend.”

“Aaron, that’s a stupid question.” she replied dismissively.

“I know. I already said that.” I shrugged.

“You’re just looking for validation.” she continued.

“I said that too. Selfish. I just need to hear it.”

“Why should I give that to you?” she asked me, her eyebrows lowered.

“There is no ‘should.’ You don’t have to. I’m asking. The option to not answer is there.”

She kept her angry gaze on me for a fair while, opening her mouth several times to speak then slowly closing it. Finally, she sighed. “Yes, of course you did.” she began. “You were just about the only guy I could trust. I trusted you even more than Chris, and that’s saying something. I guess one of the nice things about ... whatever the fuck happened ... and I guess it’s the only nice thing that happened, but Chris and I got a lot closer and he’s a terrific guy.”

“I’m glad.” I interjected supportively. “He seems like it.”

“Yeah. But anyways, you did mean a lot to me. I could actually believe you were different, or that you had my best interests at heart or something. Nope. How do you think it felt to learn I was violated like that? Even taking the actual violation out of the picture.”

“It felt like your whole world fell apart?” I guessed.

“Something like that. Betrayal. That hurt more than anything. You should have just told me after the first night. Even telling me you sexually assaulted me would have been better than finding out the hard way.”

“I did tell you.” I pointed out.

Molly gave me a ‘don’t you dare’ look, one I had never seen from her before. It sent chills down my spine. “I know that Chris made you. Do not try to take credit for that.”

“Sorry, I should have contextualized that.” I admitted.

“No. You were trying to make things seem better than they were. You were trying to make yourself look good. Do not do that with me.” she asserted herself.

“Okay, okay.” I backed down defensively.

“So now I’m looking for comfort any way I can. Yeah, I drink. I’m having sex with Carson now. I go to parties. I’m looking after myself in the way I want to. And now you’re trying to stop me?”

“Watch over you.” I clarified, still defensive. “I’m worried.”

“Well, stop worrying. I’m fine.”

“Good. Genuinely, that’s good. Again, it’s gonna take me a bit of time to stop being weird, but that’s on me. I’ll fix it in time.” Silence filled the air. “You seem less shy. Is anxiety less of a thing for you these days?”

“More than ever, it’s still here.” she clarified.

“Really? It seems like you handle your anxiety way better these days.”

“Thanks. It’s an act. I’ve just gotten better at acting.” she replied. “I’m just kind of scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of everything. I just need time to figure out who I am and get back on my feet. It’s not even just you, everything has been hitting me lately.”

“Yeah?” I asked, feeling concern build up again. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“I didn’t mean now, I just meant sometime.”

“I know, the answer is still no.” she replied.

“Gotcha.” I accepted defeat. “Well, for the record, thank you for having this conversation with me.”

She shrugged. “We’re still housemates. I’m under no obligation to forgive you, but we both know I’m probably too forgiving for my own good anyways.” I nodded in agreement. “Just please, please, if you have a moral bone left in you, don’t ever do what you did to me ever again.”

“If my word means anything to you, I promise.” I nodded.

“Thanks.” she stood up. “I left Carson in his room. I’m going to go find him. Please go home. It would mean a lot to me.” Without leaving me any room to reply, just like that, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd. I sighed and scratched my head, thinking about ... everything.

That was a turning point for Molly and I. After that moment, we were ... different. Honestly, I couldn’t articulate how. The tension between us wasn’t lifted, but it was recognized, and that gave us some kind of power over it. Now we could actually acknowledge each other’s presence in the house, even if at first we didn’t say more than a word to each other.

Over time, that word became small conversations, and from there, we were housemates. It’s not like things went back to how they were, but I couldn’t expect that to happen anyways. As the summer approached, both of us realized we were staying in the student house, and made a kind of silent agreement that we needed to become some kind of friends again or drive each other crazy. At one point, I went to her room and had a serious conversation with her about whether I should find a new place for the coming September. Molly shocked me by admitting I didn’t need to do that, and that the past should be left to the past.

Things didn’t heal though. We didn’t heal. This wasn’t like a bruise that became invisible, this wasn’t even like a cut that turned into a scar. It was like someone sawed off your leg and you learned to live with just the one. Things were still permanently different between us. Gone were our jovial conversations. Now we were ‘boring friends.’ The kind of housemates that shared conversations about nothing, and occasionally found themselves having a good time, but just out of coincidence. Besides, why would she need to connect with me? She had Carson.

Yup, Molly and Carson. Shortly after the party, they became an official thing, Facebook announcement and everything. I didn’t think the sleazeball had it in him to make the commitment. I barely saw him – Molly rarely brought him over. I wasn’t sure, but I honestly thought a big part of it was her knowing I still, somewhere, was crazy in love with her, and she took my feelings into account and didn’t want to bring him around. After all, when I did see him it would just remind me of my own inadequacy, how that led me to do what I did, how much of a monster I was, and how I didn’t deserve her even though this piece of laundry lint somehow got to be with her.

Chris and Jerome had to have known everything about us by the new school year. Both were surprised to see that I was still living with them when they came back in September. Both were staying to do their graduate studies in something or another. I really didn’t ask. I don’t think I even could have, at least in Chris’ case. At this point Chris clearly disliked me more than Molly did. When I spoke or hung out with them, he would become eerily quiet and lose his flamboyancy, and look in every direction but mine. I knew he had some frank discussions with Molly about me, and was the foremost advocate for giving me the boot. Realistically, she should have a long time ago. The ‘friendship’ I had with Molly was a corpse of the one we used to have, but the phrase ‘I didn’t deserve her’ was the understatement of the century. I was the luckiest guy in the world to still even be her friend.

She even got to talking to me again about her life. It was early October when she started, after it was clear Chris was dealing with some shit of his own. I tried to ask Chris about it, but understandably, he blew me off. From there on in, I kind of became Molly’s diary for a bit. It was clear she was holding some stuff in and Chris was unavailable for a while before she turned to me. Selfishly, I kind of enjoyed it – when she started opening up to me about her life, it was like old times. Still, I was more respectful to her feelings now, and I hoped that reflected in how I talked to her. I think it did, given she seemed appreciative of my time, even if I had to be available at a moment’s notice and it was all-too-clear if I ever tried to tell her about my life, she’d not care or change the subject. In anyone else, I’d have called that selfishness. In our unique case? Fair enough.

When she started, it was the small things – how she felt about a class or a person, or even a friend. In my trademark style, I’d talk back to her, and offer her perspectives outside of her own. Sometimes she’d quietly thank me and leave, other times she seemed to find my responses fascinating and ask me follow-up questions. The first time she gave me a shy half-smile and said, “I appreciate you,” before leaving, my heart became a mess of flutters. I was downright pathetic, but Molly was the kind of girl I felt okay feeling pathetic for, even if it was clear the feelings would never be mutual. I just liked feeling it for her at this point, she could be with someone else. I even found myself feeling okay about the fact that Carson was alive. I still felt inadequate, but they could do their thing.

There was a turning point for that, too. One day in late October I was writing up a paper when Molly burst into the room, breathing heavily, head shaking. Even her bursting into the room was unnatural – Molly always knocked. Always.

“I’m sorry.” she began flusteredly. “We need to talk. We just – we need to talk. Now.”

“Um ... yeah. Of course.” I replied, moving away from my computer and standing up. “Are you okay?”

Molly gave me a look. “Stupid question, right.” I admitted, then gestured to my bed. “Sit on the bed. I’ll take the chair.”

Molly didn’t need any further invitation. Ungraciously she plopped down on the bed, put her hands in her face and started sobbing. Realistically, this was actually probably ‘resuming sobbing.’

I sat there awkwardly. I may have tried to help her out emotionally but I was never good dealing with someone who was crying. “So, um, what’s wrong?”

“Carson.” she managed to say between sobs.

This was also uncharted territory. We never brought up Carson during these conversations. She didn’t, for sure, and I was given a stern look if I ever brought him up, even as a joke. “What did he do?”

Molly stopped sobbing and looked at the floor for the longest time. “I just don’t get it.”

I chuckled. “Neither do I, because I don’t know what the fuck is going on here.”

She looked up at me, clearly not amused. “He broke up with me.”

Internally, I chuckled again. That’s it? I thought. My outer self knew better, luckily. “Oh. I’m sorry, Molly.”

“I didn’t – he wasn’t – I didn’t think he was the type.” she barely got out.

“Molly, breathe.” I instructed her. “He isn’t the type to what?”

Molly took my instructions and breathed in and out a few times. “Carson broke up with me in public. Like, the cafeteria.”