D for Dylan - 17. Chapter Seventeen

The last time Helen caught me jerking off, I was at the tender age of 12. For the entire next year, this mortifying event served as the single most humiliating and traumatizing memory of my childhood life. Even to this day, nightmarish flashbacks of her disembodied head popping into my room out of the darkness of the doorway in the middle of the night haunted me randomly wherever I went.

Six years later, Helen Moore decided to replenish my piggy bank of traumatic memories by walking in my room unannounced, early in the morning, as I was violently choking my snake.

“Dylan, here’s your shirt from last night…” she puffed, barging in without a knock, “Should I iron it for you or… OH MY GOD!”

“MOM GET OUT!” I yelled, throwing blanket over myself.

I must’ve been staring into the ceiling for the next 10 minutes, waiting for the color of my face to go through all the shades of red. I also seriously thought of skipping school - the weather was disgusting - cold rain was pouring in since last night, and I could only imagine how messy it was out on the streets.

I took a deep breath and bent my hips, trying to smother my erection away. Somehow, the most humiliating part of my ill-mannered mother catching me masturbating, was the fact that both this morning and six years ago, I was jerking off thinking of Liam Henderson.

That motherfucker.

The inflammatory memories from last night flooded my mind and ruined my sleep, leaving me pent up, frustrated and tired by morning. Each time I thought of why I reacted this way, I arrived at the conclusion that I simply had no other choice. The layout was unfair from the start - Liam was unreasonably handsome, beyond any justification, to a point where it made no sense - why the fuck would one person even need all of these traits at once? People were going around dreaming about a straight nose, a round ass or a pair decently shaped eyebrows, hoping modestly for a single tiny zest to make them feel just a little prettier.

Meanwhile, Liam Henderson won a fucking jackpot in this lottery. His face was attractive enough to make one cream their pants by simply looking at him, but he just fucking had to go ahead and show me everything last night, didn’t he? Even under razor sharp droplets of icy cold shower, the craving I felt for him and his gorgeous body was still pulsating somewhere deep inside my lower belly.

The moment I orgasmed all over the wet tiles of the shower cabin, post-nut clarity caused me such humiliation that I was left to deal with a slow-burning migraine for the rest of the day, as a punishment.

“Promise me it won’t be awkward between us, I’m in no mood for drama.” mom threw my way, sitting at the kitchen table and chewing on apple, as I ran downstairs.

“I promise.” I said, stealing a banana from wicker basket on the table. “See you tonight!”

I needed to clear my thoughts. The gloomy weather created a minefield outside. Cold, pouring rain slapped me across the face with gushes of lateral wind, as I jumped over rivers of mud, slushing down the streets and pooling across sidewalks. I must’ve looked like a Hollywood celebrity, slouched over and wearing an oversized hoodie, hiding my face. My umbrella was on its dying breath, I barely held onto it as annoying suburban wind tested my patience. I was glad I went out in advance, but when I saw how many people were waiting at the bus stop, my hopes of getting to school on time have deflated like a farting balloon.

I slowed my pace and a particularly harsh blow of wind turned my old umbrella inside out, breaking the very last spokes holding it in shape.

“Great.” I groaned out loud.

There was no room to cram under the canopy of the crowded bus stop, and at that point, the universe has made it perfectly clear, that it was fucking with me for giving into lewd thoughts about the guy I was supposed to hate. I threw my broken umbrella in the trash, cocooned myself tighter into my hoodie and walked past the bust stop, accepting my punishment.

“Hey! Dylan!” came suddenly from across the street, as black Chevy Camaro pulled up on the roadside.

‘You gotta be fucking kidding me’ I thought, sensing my twitching eyebrow.

I ignored him and kept on walking, hoping it was an innocent hallucination, but the fucking hallucination kept trailing along the side of the road, infuriating drivers stuck behind it.

“Dylan, get in!” he screamed.

“I’m good!” I hissed, lifting my arm in a friendly neighborhood gesture.

The honking of the cars stuck in traffic got louder, and I felt like I was sandwiched between a rock and a hard place. Another gush of rainy wind almost knocked me off my feet, which didn’t help my confidence.

“Come on, let me give you a ride!” he insisted.

I was already drenched wet, my hoodie was completely soaked through. As much as I wanted to ignore that motherfucker, walking in the cold rain was awful. I groaned contritely and stepped off the sidewalk, hopping over the puddles towards his car.

He cranked up the heat and pulled a spare sweatshirt from the rear passenger seat.

“Here, you can change into this one.” he handed it over, as I pulled off my ruined hoodie.

“Thank you, I’m good.” I refused, shaking.

He grabbed my hands and started rubbing them, trying to get me warm.

“What are you doing?” I frowned.

“I used to do it all the time, did you forget?” he asked, leaning over the shift stick to blow on my hands. “You never put on winter gloves when it was cold. I warmed your hands like this.”

I looked away. He continued to rub my palms and blow his warm breath on my icy cold fingers.

“You were always so bad in the cold...” he recalled with a chuckle. “I had to make sure you were dressed up before we went out in the snow…”

“Liam, why are you here?” I asked, cautiously pulling my hands out of his weirdly intimate embrace.

“Did you get warm?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and completely ignoring my question.

“Yes, thank you.”

He smiled, set on the ignition and took off. I buckled up and put my hoodie on the floor between my legs.

“Just throw it in the back, I’ll wash it for you.” he offered, glancing at me.

“I’ll take care of it.” I said.

He had “Never felt so alone” by Labrinth playing off his expensive 9-speaker Bose audio system. That song felt very introspective, in a way. A blend of soulful pop with electronic music gave off emotional depth, highlighting the atmosphere of a rainy day. Maps on CarPlay were giving us 20 minutes in route with a few traffic jams scattered along the way. I looked out of the window and relaxed, somewhat relieved that I won’t have to spend an hour jumping over puddles in the rain. The stormy downpour showered the windows, everything outside looked gray and lifeless, people running around in muted colors, trying to find shelter.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

A moment of silence was unexpected, because my answer should’ve been immediate and obvious.

“No.” I said, surprising myself. “I’m mad at myself, I should’ve seen it coming.”

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have done that last night. It’s was stupid...”

“Save it.” I cut off.

He noticed that I was still shivering and cranked up the heater.

“So what, are you stalking me now?” I asked.

“I was just driving by.”

“In the opposite part of town?” I yawned.

“It’s a free country.” he hushed.

I nodded a few times, not knowing what else to say. The smell of his cologne was so strong that it almost inebriated me. I hated how much I still loved it.

“I broke up with Jess.” his voice rippled through the song, as he made a sharp turn towards the highway.

“I am so sorry.” I faked as compassionately as I could.

“You are?”

“No, I don’t care.” I gave up, unable to hide my disinterest.

The time in route increased to 25 minutes and I rolled my eyes. I should’ve stayed on the street.

“She won’t lay a finger on Sarah, I promise.” he said. “She told me about your conversation. I’m sorry if she scared you, but don’t take her seriously.”

“I’m not scared of her.” I said. “If she tries something stupid, she’s gonna be the one crawling under the table.”

“Still…” he said. “I feel like it’s my fault.”

“You feel like it’s your fault?” I asked, glancing at him with contempt.

He grasped the arch of the steering wheel a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry.” he repeated.

“You do remember what she did to Veronica, right?” I asked.

“Veronica?” he echoed, squinting at me questioningly.

“The girl you briefly dated after Trish.” I reminded.

“Veronica Chen?”.

“Yes.”

“Oh yeah, what about her?”

“Liam are you serious?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“What do you mean? I remember her, she was a nice girl.” he argued.

“Do you know what happened to her?” I asked.

“Well… we dated for a few weeks, then I found out she was sleeping around and…” he said.

“Yeah, so you dumped her, she dropped out of school and killed herself.” I finished, gritting my teeth.

I barely held off the urge to sack him across the face, but didn’t want to cause a mass-causality car crash on the highway.

“Some things about you still fucking shock me, you know?..” I seethed in anger. “They shouldn’t, but they do.”

“What things? Dylan, what do you mean?” he asked, rapidly shifting his gaze between my face and the road.

“She wasn’t sleeping around, you idiot. She never cheated on you.” I stressed. “Anyways, I’m not gonna tell you. You won’t fucking hear it from me.”

“Dylan?”

“Just ask around and you’ll find out what actually happened.” I said. “Maybe then you’ll understand why I should be taking Jessica seriously.”

“Jessica?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows at me. “What does she have to do with it?!”

“Fuck off, Liam.”

“Dylan, tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me! What did she do?!” he snapped.

I was slowly starting to hyperventilate.

“Is this something that happens to you?” I asked, tenting the seatbelt to turn and face him. “You get so violently in love with someone that you lose your mind?”

“What? No!” he proclaimed, confused by that assumption.

“Really? Because it sure as hell looks that way.” I said.

“That’s not true. Besides, I’ve never loved anyone before…” he spoke, lowering his voice, as if sounding ashamed. “Not until you.”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“And you never got obsessed?”

“No!”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“Let’s take a fucking trip down the memory lane, then?” I offered, rubbing my hands together.

“Go for it.” he dared.

“Three years ago you started dating Trish. You got so fucking obsessed with her that you betrayed our friendship, and when she told you she didn’t like me, you started beating me for her amusement.”

The muscles in his jaw tensed up. He took an uneven, erratic-sounding breath and gave me a pleading look.

“Did that happen?” I asked him to confirm.

He nodded, hesitantly.

“I can’t hear you, Liam.”

“Yes…” he whispered, barely audibly. “Dylan, I was wrong... If only I could go back and fix it…”

“You can’t.” I pointed out the obvious. “What you can do, is start recognizing patterns of your fucked up behavior.”

He didn’t find what to say.

“Forget Trish, let’s look at Jess for example. You got so fucking into her, that you turned a blind eye to all the vicious shit she’s done behind your back. You spent six months clashing horns with your own teammates over her. One wrong look from either of them and you’d be beating the shit out of someone. You broke Colin’s nose because he asked her what time it was!” I reminded him, actively gesticulating.

He was focused on the road, but I saw the gears slowly turning in his head.

“You’re a mentally unstable mess, Liam, especially when you obsess over someone. But once that crush is gone, the objects of your passion all end up like me 3 years ago.” I said.

I could see the corners of his eyebrows twitching.

“You got bored of Trish and didn’t give a flying fuck when she went broke after her dad died.” I continued. “You got brainwashed into thinking that Veronica was a slut and dumped her - you didn’t care that she went and shot herself in the face, you just immediately moved on to your next trophy...”

He was still silent. The rain poured harder, forcing wipers to go insane on the windshield.

“Now you’re suddenly in love with me, and look what you just did to Jessica last night.” I concluded.

I was supposed to stay calm and avoid confrontation today, but the fucker got me too worked up.

“Do you see the pattern I’m talking about?” I asked.

He chewed on his lips and refused to look at me, leaving my question without an answer.

“For the love of God, I can’t wrap my fucking mind around what’s going on in your head, Liam. There was a time when I would’ve died for you. You were such a great kid - smart, kind, loyal…” I gasped, delving into my memories. “I trusted that Liam with my life. What the fuck happened to him?”

“He got lost.” he uttered.

“He’s still lost.”

“Not anymore.” he spoke softly, not daring to look me in the eye.

GPS still gave us 15 minutes in route. It got so hot in the car that I brought down the window, slightly.

“You said something last night…” Liam exhaled, after taking in full lungs of air. “You said you wanted me to know what it feels like, to lose what I love the most.”

I covered my eyes and pressed my thumb into the temple.

“Were you talking about me?..” he asked.

“Yes.” I sighed, shivering.

“You loved me.”

“Yeah.” I confessed.

He let out a big sigh.

“How did you…” he said, pausing, thinking about his choice of words. “How did you get over me?”

“It took me a few years.” I said.

“Years?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Even after everything you did to me… it didn’t go away overnight.” I candidly admitted, watching the vapor from my breath fogging up on the glass. “It dies slowly, when it’s real.”

A pregnant pause that followed, gave me a much needed breather. Liam wasn’t saying anything. Just driving. Blurred gray colors of the streets turned the city into impressionist painting, which mellowed me out.

When I turned back his way, he quickly wiped his cheek, and I pretended like I didn’t notice.

“I won’t get over you.” he whispered.

It didn’t sound like a statement. More like a crushing realization. His eyes were glistening. He snuffled, and wiped his face once more, smearing another tear across his cheek.

“You won’t have a choice.” I sighed, feeling my back pressing itself into the leather.

“I’ll keep fighting for you.” he said. “I won’t give up.”

“I think you should start fighting for you.” I said, prompting him to give me a surprisingly vulnerable look. “Go see someone. A therapist.”

He looked away.

“I can give you a phone number of mine.” I offered. “She’s in her 60’s, she’s very sweet.”

“I’ll tell you about Jake.” he said suddenly, rushing to change the subject.

“You don’t have to.” I declined, sitting up straight.

“No, I do. Listen… Four years ago, he was at this party downtown-”

“Stop.” I said, raising my hand and cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“What?” he asked. “Why not?”

“I’ve done enough shitty things to him already.” I said, lowering my head in shame. “Things he didn’t deserve…”

“Dylan, he’s not who you-”

“I don’t care.” I cut him off again. “We’re in a relationship and he deserves a chance to explain it to me himself. I owe him that much.”

He wasn’t happy with what I said, but it wasn’t up for him to decide.

“Promise me we’d talk.” he said. “After he tells you.”

“Why?”

“Because if you’re gonna stay with him, it means he didn’t tell you everything.”

His last sentence gave me chills. I looked outside. The estimated time of arrival was 3 minutes and I started to recognize the school neighborhood.

“I know you don’t trust me...” he uttered, sadly. “But please do me a favor, okay?”

“What favor?”

“Don’t provoke him.” he warned. “And if something goes wrong, call me.”

I picked up my drenching wet hoodie and unbuckled my seatbelt, as he parked.

“Okay.” I said.

“Thank you.” he said.

I shut the door of his Camaro and jogged over to the school building, trying to avoid puddles. Walking past the metal detector at the entrance, I collected a few curious looks from our classmates, who were clearly surprised to see me stepping out of Liam’s car. As discomfort and embarrassment settled in my stomach, I braced myself for what promised to be a very difficult day.