The Only Honest Hypocrites
The next day when my alarm sounded, it also brought with it the annoying ding intended to alert me to a new voicemail. That sound continued long after the alarm died out and it had never before been so offensive to my ears as it was in that moment. My eyes didn’t want to open, but eventually I managed to pry my eyelids apart. At some point during the night, I had rolled over so that Zac and I were spooning, one of his legs snaking between mine to wrap around my bottom leg at the ankle. His hand rested on my hip, which I was surprised that he had been able to find under the endless sea of my shirt.
Carefully I rolled over and wiggled my way out of his grasp. As gently as I could, so as not to wake him since I knew he didn’t have class as early as I did, I scooted down the length of my bed, and slid off the end of it into the floor. I fumbled around the floor for my purse where I had left my phone the night before. In my struggle to find it, I decided that I should just stop using it as an alarm clock. An alarm clock that was actually attached to the wall would be much more practical than a mobile and easily lost phone.
Finally, I located my bag and pulled out the phone just as the voicemail alert began to ring out again. Flipping it open, I saw the alert for three new messages. All of them from Donovan. Inwardly, I groaned. Outwardly, I pressed the button that would play them all, even though I really didn’t want to hear any of it. The recording played, and then Donovan’s voice rang out.
“Hey Victoria, it’s me. Donovan. Just wanted to see how you were doing after rehearsal. It was kind of a rough night and I just wanted to check in.”
That was fairly innocent, I supposed. But I imagined it wouldn’t get better. I followed the key commands to hear the next message. A beep, and then Donovan’s voice again:
“Victoria, it’s me. Just calling again to say goodnight. But you’re probably already asleep. Oh well. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, I guess.”
At that, I actually rolled my eyes and let out a groan so loud I thought it might wake Zac and Justine both. I jabbed my finger at the “delete” button, even though it had done me no offense. I just needed to take out my frustration on something and I couldn’t play the drums. The phone beeped again and the last message played.
“Look, Victoria… we need to talk. Sorry if you’re asleep, but I really want to talk to you. It’s kind of important, okay? I’ll let you sleep now, though, but please call me tomorrow.”
I tossed the phone into the floor, then collapsed into a heap next to it. So he knew. I really didn’t want to talk to him about it. That had to be it, though. It had to be about Zac. I looked up at my bed and saw Zac still sleeping there, his head smushed against the pillow so that all I could see was a halo of blond hair. Quietly I picked myself up from the floor and gathered my things for a shower. Hopefully I could be showered and out of the room before Zac woke.
Twenty minutes later I returned to the room, my wet hair piled on top of my head in a towel and my robe pulled tight around my body. My shower shoes – a fancy name for a pair of cheap plastic sandals – squished with every step and I was certain that the noise would wake Zac. I was surprised, when I pulled the door open, to see him already awake and sitting in my desk chair, playing with my laptop. He wore a different outfit and his hair was wet.
“You showered?” I asked, self-consciously pulling my robe closer to me body, my arms wrapped around my chest like I was trying to give myself a hug. Stupid Zac, making me nervous. I was never nervous about my body.
He nodded and stood up. “I woke up halfway when your phone was going off and I left a couple minutes after you did. You know it doesn’t take me that long to shower.”
“I guess,” I replied, sitting down the shower basket I had been holding. That made me feel a little less awkward, but it didn’t completely alleviate the feeling.
He took a few steps toward me. “Did you have voicemail? What was all that racket?”
I bit my lip and looked down. I didn’t want to answer that. Why couldn’t Donovan and Zac both stay completely separate parts of my life and never muddle up each others’ interactions? Why did everything have to get all jumbled and stop making sense? It wasn’t fair. Hesitantly, I looked up at Zac and nodded. “Yeah… it was Donovan.”
He growled under his breath and I was taken aback. I knew it was a sound of anger, of rage and maybe even a little bit jealousy. But I couldn’t help hearing the raw sex appeal in it. Since when did Zac have sex appeal? Since the night I jumped in his lap and tried to have my way with him, I supposed. Still, it wasn’t a thought I cared to have. I shuddered as he took a few steps closer to me, and I hoped that he would think it was just the cold water lingering from my shower making me do so.
“What did he want? How many times did he call?” Zac asked, and this time I detected not only jealousy, but protectiveness.
I looked down, not wanting to meet his searing gaze. “Three times… I guess. He left that many voicemails, anyway. We must have been fast asleep then.”
“Jesus, what did he want?” Zac asked, placing a hand on my cheek and forcing me to raise my gaze to his.
“To talk… about things. He didn’t say what, but I think I can guess.”
Zac nodded and took the last step required to completely close the distance between us. His hair dripped onto my forehead and I giggled at the feeling. His voice soft and low, he said, “I think I can guess, too.”
“What do you suppose it is?”
“This,” he replied, touching his lips to mine. His hand ran around my head to cradle the back of it and pull off the towel I wore over my wet hair. I placed one hand on his back, trying to pull him closer to me even though I knew that was barely possible.
Zac’s left hand played at the trim on my robe, tracing a line across my chest, until he finally gained the nerve to slip his hand under the fabric and cup my breast in his hand. I moaned into his mouth at the feeling, opening my mouth wider against his and allowing his tongue further area to explore. My knees felt weak but I also felt energized, tingly and hot all over my body. I was a world of contradictions and feelings that didn’t make sense. A whirligig of swirling emotion in his arms.
Just as suddenly and gently as it had began, Zac pulled away from me. He cupped my face in his hands and placed on soft kiss on my forehead. Stepping back, he said, “Alright. Get yourself dressed and go explain that to your boyfriend.”
With those words he walked out of the room. No goodbye. And certainly not a smile as he left. I felt my knees trying to give way beneath me again, but I wouldn’t let myself collapse again. The swelling of tears in my eyes couldn’t be avoided, however. My eyes clouding over, I shuffled to the dresser and retrieved my underwear, then put together an outfit out of the first things I grabbed from my closet. Finally, when I could hold it together no longer, I collapsed into my desk chair and let myself cry. I didn’t sob, but I didn’t hold back either.
Justine’s alarm sounded as I sat there and she stumbled half-asleep from her bunk. Some days I wondered how she didn’t kill herself making that climb with her faculties only half-functional. She stopped when she reached the floor next to me and stared at me in confusion. I could almost see the myriad questions forming in her mind, and the gears turning as she tried to decide which would be the best to ask.
“Umm… Toria?”
I sniffled, wishing I could just hide underneath my hair. “Yes?”
“You’re not…crying?”
“I am.”
“Okay?”
“Not really. Please don’t ask.”
I wish she had let the subject drop there. Normally our short, half-spoken sentences and questions would have been sufficient, but it wasn’t often that she woke up to see me sobbing, either. So I wasn’t surprised when Justine plodded on.
“Zac spent the night.” Not a question. Not an accusation. Just a statement.
I nodded slowly. “Yes. He’s an asshole.”
“Is he?” Justine asked, hand on her hip. “I think he’s kind of sweet. I like him.”
“That’s the problem. I do too. And Donovan knows that,” I replied.
“So ditch the bitch and date Zac,” she said, shrugging the entire issue off.
I sighed. “It isn’t that simple, you know. I mean, a big part of this show is resting on whatever chemistry Donovan and I have. And we definitely have some, but it’s almost as volatile as our characters’. I’ve got to do everything I can just to hold this together enough to make it through the run of the show. Which means keeping Donovan happy. Or if not happy, at least satisfied. Dating Zac won’t really do that. Oh, and Zac may or may not be sleeping with some other theatre girl.”
“How do you know that? Oh – the one from the party?”
I nodded. “I haven’t asked him. I just don’t want to think about it.”
“You probably should. And figure out what – and who – you want. Do you have any idea what that might be?”
“That isn’t the point,” I replied, plucking a few tissues from my desk and dabbing at my eyes. I had to make myself presentable quickly and get to class. Thankfully I didn’t have class with Zac that day.
“No, but it’s my question,” Justine’s voice called out as she wandered over to our shared closet.
I stood up and reached for my towel where it had fallen in the floor. For a while, I dried my hair and ignored Justine. Finally, after she had turned back around to stare at me long enough to get on my nerves, I replied, “Well, I don’t have a good answer for it.”
“I think you should find one,” she said, shaking a clothes hanger at me.
She was right. If Zac thought I was always right, then he obviously hadn’t talked to Justine enough. She meant well. She always did. But she never held back. I knew she was right, but I would be damned if I would actually listen to her. Not yet. I had to keep things sailing along as smoothly as possible until the show was over. Then I could figure out what it was I really wanted, and go after that. But only then.
I made no attempt to contact Donovan that day. He didn’t call again, and I knew it was silly but I hoped that he would just drop the subject. I didn’t see Zac either, but I knew he was avoiding me. That didn’t surprise me at all. After my last class of the afternoon I saw my fears confirmed, walking toward me. Not Zac, but Donovan. He looked surprisingly cheerful given the sound of his voicemails. Although, none of them had been threatening. Just nagging. I guess that was why it bothered me so much; it implied a level of possessiveness in our relationship that I was just not comfortable with or aware that we had reached.
Donovan veered away from the group of friends he had been walking with and stepped into my path. There was no avoiding him. He gave me a small smile, one that I felt was mostly for show, and said, “Victoria, did you get my voicemails? I was worried.”
I tried not to cringe at his show of concern and replied, “I’m sorry, I went to bed kind of early and I didn’t hear my phone at all. I’m a pretty heavy sleeper.”
A lie. Absolutely a lie. Not the best way to start the sort of conversation I knew that he and I were about to have. But I just wanted to save my ass. I never claimed to be a good person.
“Well, we need to talk,” he said, lighting touching my arm and pulling me to the side of the hallway. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Those words were so cliché – “we need to talk.” Still, it made my stomach turn to hear it.
I leaned against the wall and stared down at my feet. “Okay, what’s up?”
He sighed. “It’s you and Zac. You two are too, too close. I just need to know the truth. What’s really going on between you guys?”
I looked up at him. His face was unnervingly emotionless and I tried to make mine the same. “Nothing is going on between us. Nothing. He’s my friend and we are very close, but it’s just a friendship.”
“Guys and girls can’t be friends like that,” Donovan replied with a chuckle.
I rolled my eyes. This was not an argument I wanted to have. “Yes, they can. If he didn’t have a penis, you wouldn’t have a problem with this, would you?”
“No, I wouldn’t assume you were trying to jump his bones if he were a she.”
“Then you’re pretty homophobic too, aren’t you? Maybe I like it both ways,” I replied. It wasn’t the best argument I could have made, and it was yet another lie, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Donovan, stony faced, replied, “Oh, do you? How does that matter at all?”
“That’s the point. It doesn’t. But no, I don’t,” I said. “And you shouldn’t just assume. Anyway, Zac and I are close because yes, it is possible for guys and girls to just to be friends. Is it possible for you not to be a jealous prick?”
“If we’re dating, of course I’m going to be jealous that he gets to be all over you too,” Donovan spat. “Doesn’t seem like it’s all that serious, though, if he’s with other girls too. On the other hand, sounds like you guys might be perfect for each other.”
So he did know. He had seen, or a friend with loose lips had seen. Either way, he knew about the parties. And maybe he knew about all our nights in each others arms, although I figured that was less likely.
“We’re dating?”
“You hadn’t noticed?” He replied, his eyes going wide.
I shrugged. “You didn’t ask, you just assumed it. I mean, we’ve gone out, but as far as I’m concerned, this isn’t official enough for you to care what I do when you aren’t around.”
“Well forgive me for assuming some level of faithfulness,” he said, backing away from me.
“Maybe you should stop assuming.”
“Maybe I will,” Donovan said. “Can we just make it official, then?”
“We can. Officially over.” I replied.
With that, I turned and walked away from him. What else could I say? I knew there was something between Donovan and I. I wasn’t dumb, after all. But to think we were dating? Exclusively? He was asking much more of me than I had to give. No, he was expecting it, without even asking at all. And that’s what bothered me, I realized. The utter sense of entitlement. Zac was beginning to develop one of those too, and I think that was the biggest reason for my hesitance to be with him. Both boys assumed that I owed them some allegiance, some amount of love that I hadn’t offered to either.
And that just really, really bugged me. I wasn’t giving anyone a damn thing until I was ready to. And especially not if they didn’t even ask. I didn’t look back to see how Donovan had taken what amounted to our break-up. I didn’t want to know. I groaned at the thought of that night’s rehearsal – it would either be great or absolutely hell.
Worse than that, I dreaded how smug Justine would be when she found out that she had, in fact, been right.