We Are Us

Chapter 15 Worthington University

Fall Semester, Freshman Year

“Don’t you ever sleep?” Wren grumbles as she rolls over in the middle of the night, her question more of a complaint.

I can’t exactly blame her. It’s been a week since Tucker’s mistake.

“Sorry.” I utter the apology as the nightlight clipped to my headboard remains lit, as the tears silently streaming down my face remain unchecked, as my body remains rigid, sleep far beyond my grasp.

I no longer take comfort in unconsciousness. Not here, anyway. Not when I know Tucker is just down the hall.

My mouth is dry but I don’t allow myself a sip of water. If I could bring back the days of chamber pots beneath beds, I would.

Getting up to pee in the middle of the night means leaving this locked room. I’m not drunk, but my breasts are braless beneath an oversized T-shirt, my pink pajama pants are stamped with Hello Kitty’s smiling face, and my feet are bare. What if Tucker, or anyone else, thinks it’s an invitation?

The truth is, no matter what I wear, I feel exposed. Like my skin is an undressed, open wound.

I wipe my face on my comforter, laying with the tip of my nose tilted to the ceiling, resisting the Kleenex so that I don’t further piss off my roommate.

Wren tosses again, sighs. “Are you… okay?”

I almost want to laugh. Okay? Will I ever be okay again? But I say, “I’m fine.”

“You know, if you want to talk…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, and I’m not sure if she would have said I’m here to listen or there’s a student counseling service you could call.

“Thanks.” Since she’s obviously awake, I decide to blow my nose.

After a few minutes pass, she says, “It must have been scary, waking up in the hospital like that.”

My already tense muscles clench even tighter. “Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know. Just waking up after passing out, but in a new, strange place.”

“Has that… has that ever happened to you?”

“Waking up in a hospital, no. But passing out and not remembering where I am or how I got there, yeah.”

Is Wren saying… ? My breath is a heavy, choking mist inside my throat. “With Tucker?”

She releases a low laugh, unaware that my lungs are barely moving up and down in the dark, so still is my chest. “Sure. Whenever I try to keep up with him, I get in trouble. I should really know better by now.”

“Trouble? What do you mean?”

“Just the stupid shit we’ve pulled over the years. Last winter, we took the kayak at his parents’ lake house out in the middle of the night. I woke up in the bottom of the boat, completely hungover, with no memory of what we did with the oars and no way to get back to the house that didn’t involve swimming in fucking freezing water.”

“Oh.” No, Wren isn’t implying what I thought she was. Not even close.

“Yeah. I finally shoved Tucker overboard and made him swim back to the dock for an extra set of oars.” She sighs. “Tucker is a troublemaker. I honestly don’t know why I love him, but I do.”

“You love him?” Shame gnaws at me as I recall enjoying Tucker’s attention. Flirting with him. Kissing him.

If I’d been a better person, his mistake never would have happened.

His mistake is my fault.

“Of course. We’ve grown up together. He was the first guy I ever kissed. I can’t imagine my life without him.”

Wren could be me, talking about Gavin.

“I-I didn’t realize—”

“Wait, did something happen between you and Tucker? Before the hospital?”

“I—”

“Whatever, it’s fine if it did,” she says, although her voice has a layer of strain to it that wasn’t there before. “We haven’t hooked up since we both decided to come to Worth U. He wants to see other people and so do I.”

She makes a high-pitched sound that’s not a laugh. “I mean, we’ll pick back up eventually though. Our families have been pla

I cough. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“So,” Wren sounds wide awake now, “what did happen between you two?”

“Um, what did Tucker say?”

“Nothing. Just that he thinks you’re cool. And he felt bad that you got sick.”

I don’t even know how to respond.

“So, did you?”

“What?”

She huffs in a

“I don’t know.” My voice is quiet.

“What… what does that mean?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember? Nothing?”

I close my eyes, the face of the doctor and nurse projecting onto the blank walls of my eyelids.

We found evidence of sexual activity. A condom… inside your clothes. Does that sound right to you?

I’d like you to consent to a rape kit. It won’t take very long, it—

I blink my eyes open. “I don’t remember,” I say again, a little louder.

“Well, you can rule out sex then. If you had sex with Tucker, you’d remember it.”

“How do you know?” This time my voice is sharp, slicing through the still, stale air of our small room. I need to know what Wren knows, if there’s a possibility that nothing happened. Not even a mistake.

“Just that Tucker’s damn good at it. He’s not like other guys. He makes sure I come, every time. The few times I haven’t, he goes down on me until—”

I feel sick. “Okay, I get it.”

Wren laughs. “No need to be a prude about it. Sex isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed.” Not about sex itself. With Gavin, it was beautiful and tender and poignant. Sex was special. He made it special.

Pain claws at my heart, ripping my soul into shreds. What happened last week was the opposite of special. I don’t remember it, but I can’t forget it.

Why can’t I forget something I don’t even remember?

This is just one of the many questions that have been keeping me up at night. Why didn’t I go back to the library like I wanted to? Why did I act on the petty impulse to prove Wren wrong? Why didn’t I realize that Everclear is a grain alcohol twice as strong as vodka?

Why didn’t I go back to my room, alone?

How could I have been so stupid?

Questions that pulse inside my brain on an endless loop. So many, every night. I’ve started fantasizing about drilling a hole through my skull and pouring a gallon of bleach into my brain. Will I sleep then?

“Do you like him?” The question comes after at least twenty minutes, startling me. I thought Wren had fallen back asleep.

“No.”

“You liked him enough to go back to his room.”

“It was a mistake,” I say quickly, firmly.

Suddenly, her night light turns on and she bolts upright in her bed. “Wait. Do you think Tucker… Do you think he hurt you?”

I roll over so she won’t see my swollen eyes, my tear-stained cheeks. “I think it’s late. Go back to bed.”

She does the opposite, her feet hitting the floor and padding over to the light switch on the wall. “Ow.” I cover my face with my comforter at the sudden brightness. Small night lights clipped to headboards are one thing, but unforgiving fluorescent bulbs suspended from the ceiling are completely different.

Wren sits on my bed.

Wren never sits on my bed.

“This is serious.” She yanks at my blanket. “You’ve been different, ever since you came home from the hospital. Did you accuse Tucker of something when you were there?”