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EMMA
With only a little more than a month of classes to go, the first few weeks after spring break flew by. And now that Bianca had finally stopped harassing me, I felt a need to gain a bit of my independence back. I insisted on taking the bus home on Thursdays when Zach's classes ended a few hours before mine. Sometimes he'd wait for me by working out at the gym and other times he'd reluctantly let me go home alone.
Sure, the walk through campus spooked me a bit, but there were so many people around, nothing could possibly happen.
"What do you have on her anyway?" I asked one night as we were lying in bed. He'd just finished telling me that he'd seen her at the gym that day and she hadn't said hello.
"If I tell you, I'd have to kill you," he joked.
"Come on," I said, squeezing his arm.
In an instant he was on top of me, kissing and caressing.
"No, you don't get off that easy," I said between kisses.
"Why do you want to know anyway?"
"Because I'm curious."
He slipped his hand beneath my underwear and started his careful massage. "It's not important," he murmured.
"You're trying to distract me."
"Is it working?"
"Yes," I said, kissing him back.
In seconds we were naked, him inside me, pushing deeper and deeper. Sex with him was so natural, so right. Sometimes in class, my mind would wander off to us in bed, on the sofa, on the kitchen counter, or in the shower, and I'd tingle with anticipation. My body craved him all the time.
"Back to Bianca," I said, after he returned from disposing of the condom.
He groaned. "I hoped you'd forget."
"No," I said, welcoming him back into bed and finding my spot in his arms.
"This is all I'm going to tell you. I may have a video of her doing something that would be very embarrassing to both her and her family if it ever got distributed."
"A sex video? Is it with Jake?"
"I'm not saying what it is and Jake isn't in it. It's from before he came along."
"Is she doing drugs in it?"
"I'm not telling."
"How'd you get it?"
"I'm not telling."
I pondered this. "Have you had it for a while?"
"Yes, and she knows I have it. Why are we still talking about her anyway?"
He was right. Bianca wasn't worth my time. I ran a finger up and down his arm, sleep had no intention of coming. "I've wanted to ask you something for a really long time," I said.
"Oh, yeah? What's that?" he asked, kissing the top of my head.
"When did you know that you liked me?"
He chuckled. "When did you know that you liked me?"
"I asked first."
He caressed my back and didn't answer right away. I waited, growing a little nervous that he hadn't said anything yet. Was I not going to like his answer?"
"I'm not a hundred percent sure. Sometime between opening the door at Brett's cabin and sharing a piece of chocolate cake and a beer with you a few hours later."
I lifted my head and stared at his serene face. I was speechless. For once my mind wasn't analyzing and dissecting. "Really," I finally managed to say.
"Why do you think I kept coming around?"
"I thought you were being nice. Or worse, feeling sorry for me."
"Well, I am nice," he said and winked. "I also liked you a lot."
"Why didn't you—" I stopped myself. I knew the answer. Jake. "I didn't know right away mostly because I couldn't believe you'd like a girl like me. Sometimes I still don't believe it."
"Like a girl like you? Em, you're amazing. I'm a lucky guy to have you in my life."
I kissed him and wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I could. I never wanted to let him go.
#
HELEN AND I PLAYED our weekly Wednesday evening tennis match. She was getting better and even had me sweating for a while. I tried to keep the matches close because who'd play tennis with me if I beat them all the time?
In the locker room I could tell she had something to say. She couldn't stop fidgeting.
"So Marc came and talked to me before you got here," she said, playing with the laces of one of the tennis shoes she'd just taken off. "And we had a chat about you."
"Only good things, I hope," I said and laughed. Then it hit me. "Is he disqualifying us from our next tournament?"
"No, nothing like that. I know you're in school and don't live in the city, but he wants to ask you to be an instructor here, perhaps coach some kids he thinks have a little talent. He asked me to poke around for him. By far you're the best tennis player here."
I smiled at the compliment. "Really?"
"Come on, you can kick my butt in your sleep."
"I don't know if I have the time. Between school and my other job..."
She motioned for me to move closer, out of the earshot of other players. "Marc has some really affluent members here with kids, and they want those kids to learn tennis. They pay well, I'm sure much better than your coffee shop job...not that I'm disparaging it in any way, but wouldn't you love to play a little more tennis? Teach kids?"
"Not a bunch of rich kids."
"He has a summer program for low-income youth. You could teach that, too. Marc wants you all over this place. You're a pretty girl who happens to have a killer forehand and backhand that shames us all. And did I mention your serve? You're the perfect role model for everyone here. They all love you."
"I don't know. Can I think about it?"
"Of course you can. Can I tell Marc you might be interested?"
Her eyes were beaming, begging me to say yes. "Sure, but don't make any promises."
"One last thing. I have something for you," she said, handing me an envelope.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Take it. It's a gift for you. I wanted to thank you for being the best tournament partner a middle-aged woman could have."
I opened the envelope and pulled out the card. Helen had written a few kind words that nearly brought me to tears. "Thank you," I said, fighting the waterworks. "And what's this?" I asked, holding up a gift card that had also been inside the envelope.
"That's for you. Go buy yourself some nice things. You wouldn't accept my portion of the prize money, so I'm making you accept this gift card. You can't return gift cards. It's a rule."
I thought to argue with her, but realized I'd be wasting my time. "You're the best partner I've ever had, too."
I showered, dressed, and pulled out my phone to text Zach on my walk to the bus. It was an unseasonably warm March evening, and I tied my sweater around my waist, one of Genie's old/new sweaters.
Me: Marc wants me to coach at the club! Rich kids during the year and low-income youth in the summer. Helen asked me for him, and I think I might be interested. And she gave me a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar gift card. How sweet was that?
I was about to slip my phone into my pocket when I heard a crack, like a bat hitting a baseball. My phone flew out of my hand and through the air while my body hit the pavement with a thud. Only then did the blinding pain set it.
"I warned you, bitch." The voice was filled with rage.
Instinct kicked in as I tried to regain my bearings. I tried pushing myself up to my knees, but arms were all over me, pulling at my clothes and hair, using them to drag me off the sidewalk and into the bushes nearby. I panicked. If they got me to a secluded spot, I was doomed. I flailed my arms and legs, screaming at the top of my lungs as a foot connected with my chest knocking the wind out of me. There had to be at least three of them, all girls by the sounds of their voices. One was on ground, trying to pound my head with her fists, connecting a few times as I tried to shield my face with my hands.
"Get her in the head," one screamed. It had to be Bianca. "Fuck her up!"
One peppered blows while another kicked me in the chest and thighs. The last one tried to hold my legs down. I could taste the blood, the metallic tang of it filling my mouth. I coughed a few times, trying to scream, but only muffled sobs came out.
"Hey! Hey! What the hell?"
A male voice I didn't know. My attackers bolted, leaving me lying in the grass, partially hidden by the bushes. I started choking from the blood in my mouth, where it came from, I didn't know. I spit it out, relieved there was no more. My chest hurt so much I could barely breathe. I tried to stand but my head spun so much I fell back down.
"Are you hurt?" the man asked.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't even find breath. My vision was blurred by tears and searing pain. The man knelt down next to me and pulled out his phone, then dialed three numbers.
"We need an ambulance. A young woman has been attacked." He gave our location and then sat with me.
"My phone," I stammered.
"Who do you want me to call?" he asked, reaching for where it lay on the ground nearby. He was such a nice man, late thirties, his green eyes filled with compassion. That's when I saw his bag and the tennis racket sticking out. I suddenly felt safe with him.
"Zach. Call Zach." I managed to scroll to Zach’s number and then rested my cheek against the cool, coarse grass. My head felt like it was being hammered with pointy nails.
"Is this Zach? Hi, my name is Frank and I'm with ..." he turned to me.
"Emma," I mumbled.
"I'm with Emma and she was assaulted just outside the Taylor Tennis Club." He paused. Was Zach freaking out? A stabbing pain seared through my side. "Yes, I've already called an ambulance. They should be here shortly. Yes, you can talk to her."
Frank held the phone to my ear. I didn't think I had the energy to do it myself.
"Em, are you okay?" Yes, he was freaking out. His voice pitched and I could hear him restraining his rage.
"I think so. Don't get mad."
"I'm going to kill her!"
"No," I said as tears slipped down my cheeks.
"I'm leaving and I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Talk to Frank."
Frank took the phone back. "Zach, I hear the ambulance. You should just meet us at the hospital. I'll stay with her and let you know where they take her."
I closed my eyes and my mind drifted away.