Page 103 of The Cheerleader

She reaches up and cups my cheek, and the tenderness in her face and her movements collapse all the extraneous thoughts, desires, and defenses I have, bringing down everything, including my self-discipline and my self-control, until she holds my very soul in her hands.

“What do you want?” I ask because I will give it to her. Anything. Everything. The same way she wanted to give everything to me that first day we met, when I was too vulnerable to ignore her, too needy to forget her. Not even all the self-discipline or baggage of the years since that day could erase the hope she gave me.

“I want you. All of you. Heart and soul.” She looks at me like she’s unsure, as if she really doesn’t know how she affects me.

I laugh, almost derisively. But not. My voice is shaky when I speak. “You’ve always had me.” I don’t say more. I’m completely bare, completely empty of words and emotions because she has them all.

“You never talked about that day… when you were hurt and bleeding in the ditch. You never told me how you got there, what happened to you. Who did⁠—”

“Are you asking?” I hope to hell she’s not, because I’ll have to tell her. And I don’t want her to know. It’s Liz’s story to tell.

But if I have to choose between loyalty to Liz and everything I feel about Susie⁠—

“Only if you want to tell me. I would never force you if you don’t feel comfortable.”

I gulp down the spasm of emotion that makes me want to roar at the knowledge that she’s better than I give her credit for, better than I’ve imagined. That she’s not imaginary; she’s real and here.

I’ve never told anyone the truth about what happened that day…but suddenly I want Susie to know.

“I’d gone to Liz’s house that day. She called me.” My chest tightens, but I say the words without trouble. “I ran into her old man when I got there.”

Her eyes flare, and I see understanding, grateful that no more words are necessary. I kiss her compassionate eyes, one at a time, as her lashes flutter against my lips, sinking me in that fathomless understanding.

She opens her eyes. “I never met him. She never wanted me to meet her father.” There’s a crack of pain and remorse in her words. “She was protective of me… except for one night. She called; it was cold and dark in December, and Mom was going Christmas shopping. She agreed to pick up Liz on the way, but when she did, Liz said she hadn’t eaten and asked if we could be dropped off at the pizza place on Main Street. You know the one?”

Shit. I nod. My gut twists because I do know the one she means, but I keep my cool and listen.

“My mother was reluctant, but she dropped us off and said she’d be back in an hour. I followed Liz inside and then down some back stairs. I had no idea there was a bar next door. There was an entrance in the back of the building next to the pizza place, but I never knew about it. There were no signs. Did you⁠—”

“Yes.” The one word comes out in a rasp. I don’t say more. My chest is tight, and I’m taking shallow breaths, forcing myself to stay calm and patient, telling myself she and Liz are okay. This happened a long time ago.

“I tried to get her to go back to the pizza place the minute we walked into the bar because it smelled so strongly of stale beer and… something else bad.”

Sweat. The permanent stench of sweaty old men is imbedded in the place. I hold her tighter, trying not to picture them in that place at fourteen years old. I don’t want to hear it, but I need to know, to understand.

Brushing a strand of hair from her face, I take a deep breath and remain calm. “Go on.”

“Your hand is shaking. It’s okay⁠—”

I snatch my hand away from her face and slip it around her back. “I need to hear your story.” My words are measured, and I manage to keep the fear and urgency from overwhelming me.

“Good, because I need to tell it. I… I’ve never told anyone.”

I pull her in tighter and breathe her scent, overwhelmed with a different emotion, not fear. Though the intensity makes my heart stammer so hard maybe I should be afraid. Whatever I’m feeling is new to me, and so good I don’t want to let it go. I don’t want to let her go.

“There were men, old men, sitting at rickety tables drinking and at a small bar. I stuck to Liz, horrified, curious, and puzzled because she seemed to know the place. Then, as she walked by one leathery old man with a mean face, he grabbed her. I screamed and got everyone’s attention. The other men laughed. The bartender asked Liz what she was up to and said her old man wasn’t in here tonight. She knew the man who grabbed her and argued with him to leave her alone. No one did a thing, so I ran back to the pizza place and got the cook to help. He extricated Liz from the old man, who tossed his beer at us as we were leaving.”

She stops then and closes her eyes, putting a hand on her heart.

I hold her tighter, unable to speak, enduring the squeezing sensation in my chest as if my soul is being crushed.

She heaves a breath. “By the time my mother got back, we’d barely had a bite of pizza, and we took it with us. But even the smell of pizza didn’t stop my mom from smelling beer. She assumed it was Liz.”

“That’s why your parents sent you to private school.” I breathe in grateful relief. Her parents are the kind of people who protect and care for their child. I imagine they’re good to the bone, decent, and smart and happy. That’s where Susie comes from and why she is who she is. Why that one night with Liz was the worst experience of her life and the only one like it. Why I have no right being with her, spoiling her life with my miserable history.

“It’s the place her dad used to hang out. She was looking for him. I don’t know if she wanted to find him or get his attention by making him mad. Anger was the only kind of attention she got, but she always seemed to want it. I never understood that.”

She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t speculate. I never knew about the details of what went on in her house except that sometimes she was afraid and he’d… hit her.”