Sometimes the F-word Gets Overused
All morning Saturday Hunter texts and calls me, and I ignore every damn one. He keeps calling the landline too, and I’m worried Jackson will notice. All I can think about is Hunter, his mouth, his lips, his eyes, his chest hard on mine, like we were a single movement when he held me and kissed me. I loved him kissing me. I loved getting surprised and exquisitely delighted by each move he made. Now it’s over. My fantasy dies as tears crash in on me, thrashing my luscious thoughts to shreds. A major killjoy.
I can’t stop crying. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I so don’t want to dry heave again. I grab the garbage can at my bedside and yack nothing but air into it. I set it back down and see another text from Hunter come in.
Hunter: Allandra … U there? Please text me back. Please. I wasn’t going to F and F U. I wasn’t going to do it with them. I swear. I just didn’t want them to know I wasn’t doing it. I’m so sorry. I know I’m an asshole. Please forgive me.
I delete it, just as I’ve deleted all the others. So, he was just going to let the whole high school and the world think he was going to “F and F” me? How is that harmless? Asshole.
There is a knock at my door.
“I made grilled cheese and tomato soup. Come out and eat,” Jackson bellows through the door.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat. You can’t hide out all day in there.” He tries to open my door, but I have it locked. “It’s noon and I haven’t seen you come out yet. You can’t not eat all day, Landra.”
“I know. I’m just not hungry now.” I pause and see I’m getting a text from Becca. “I promise I’ll eat it later. Stick it in the fridge, and I’ll warm it up.”
“OK, but I’m checking later to see if you ate it.” It’s silent, so I think he’s left until he says, “You doing OK?”
Tears are streaming down my face, and I cough to clear them from my voice. “Yes. Fine.”
“Your date with Hunter go OK last night?”
I can’t say anything. If I do, he’ll hear I’m crying.
“Landra?”
I drink some water from my glass on my bedside table. It’s warm, but it helps me talk. “Yes. It was OK.” Silence. Good. He left.
I read Becca’s text.
Becca: Just got done with helping my mom paint, sorry I didn’t text til now. So, how was it with Hunter last night?
Allandra: Awful. Horrific. The worst.
Becca: No, really?
I text back.
Allandra: Found out he just wanted to F and F me. But the liar said he wasn’t really going to do it to me, but I heard him say it.
Becca: Shit.
Allandra: I know.
Becca: U OK?
Allandra: No.
Becca: Did he hurt you?
Allandra: No.
Becca: Want me to come over?
Allandra: No.
I kinda want one of her hugs right now, though.
Becca: Can I do anything?
I text her back after a minute.
Allandra: No.
Becca: OMG. I’m so sorry. What a fucker.
Allandra: I know. But part of me still wants him. That’s messed up, right?
She texts back.
Becca: No, I get it. It doesn’t change how hot he is or how U were when you were with him, it just ruins it all.
Allandra: Right.
Becca: Hugs. I’ll come over or U can come here. Let me know.
Allandra: Thanks.
Becca: He doesn’t deserve U, my love. Call me if you want to talk.
I have nothing to say to that. I text her back.
Allandra: K. Tell Ginna for me plz? I can’t handle repeating all this.
Becca: Will do. XXXOOO love U my friend.
I sit and cry, and cry and sit. Lie down and cry, then do some sit-ups, followed by jumping jacks, followed by running in place until I feel like I’m going to faint. Then I lie down and fall asleep. I wake up to knocking on my door.
It’s Jackson. “You haven’t eaten it yet. Can I warm it all up for you?”
“No. I’m not hungry.” Why does he suddenly effing care so much? I don’t get it.
He just comes in. Crap, I didn’t lock it after I peed the last time. I stand up and walk over to him, fully intending to push him back out of my room.
“Landra, I talked to Becca, and she told me the full story about the other day, when you almost fainted at school.” He stops, tries to get a look at my downturned face. “You been crying?”
He stands in front of me, and he is so big, giant as a wall. I feel like a wisp of nothing at all, as if I’m only vapor for the world to consume. I look him in the eyes. I can’t even … “Becca told you about it? Why would she do that to me?” I frown.
“Landra, she’s really worried about you not eating.” Jackson puts his hands on my arms. I expect he might shake me. “And frankly I am too. I’m glad she told me.”
“That little snitch. She’s a traitor. I just can’t believe it,” I say, pulling myself from his grasp. I put my hands on my cheeks. “This is stupid. Really stupid.”
“She cares about you, a lot.” Jackson looks at the carpet, then back at me. “Landra, I think you need to go to a doctor.”
“What? That’s ridiculous! I eat. You’ve seen me eat.” I throw my arms down to my sides.
“But you don’t eat normal, Landra. You aren’t healthy, and you go through periods where I really don’t think you eat at all. I think you are anorexic, and you need help.”
“No. That’s so dumb. I eat. I eat all the time. You are making this bigger than it is, Jackson.”
“Oh yeah? Then why do you run on the treadmill, and then work out in your room too?” He sighs. “I barely see you eat, sis.” He hasn’t called me that in oodles of years.
“Yeah, well, why do you practice football for more than two hours a day, then come home and lift weights? Huh? Smart guy.” I glare right up into his eyes, not backing down a step.
“That’s different. I’m a football player. And, Landra, I eat. I eat mountains of food every day. That’s where we’re different. And I don’t almost pass out at school because I didn’t eat.”
“Whatever. There’s no difference between you and me.”
“Not true, Landra. Not even close.” He looks at his hands. “I should have done something about this a long time ago. I’m sorry. I just get so wrapped up in football, school, my friends, Jenna.”
I turn away.
Jackson says, “You need to work on this, Allandra.”
I go to my bed, lie down and pull the covers over my head as I hear Jackson shut my bedroom door. Grab my phone and send Becca a text.
Allandra: How could U?
Becca: ???
Allandra: How could u tell Jackson about the day when u gave me sushi rolls and I felt so sick? How could u betray me like that?
She texts back at lightning speed.
Becca: Ah. He told U. I was so worried about U that day, I had to enlist help to watch over U.
Allandra: u don’t need to watch over me. Back off, Becca.
Becca: I’m so sorry, my love. I’m just scared for u. really scared.
Allandra: Don’t call me that. I know you like boys AND girls, but back your effing love off my lawn. I don’t want it.
Oh, shit. I regret the text immediately. What did I do? I wish I could delete it, but it’s sent, already out in the air, and I can’t take it back. Ever. That was really, really mean of me. She doesn’t text back. Crap. Tears pop into my eyes. I can’t kill my friendship with her—I need her.
Allandra: OMG Becca, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean it.
Becca: Just because I like girls too doesn’t mean I automatically want to be with U like that ya know. You are my friend and I love you like a friend.
Allandra: I know. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I can’t do anything right. I’m just a screwup.
I gasp, more tears pouring out of my throbbing, aching eyes.
Becca: Stop. I forgive u. I will always forgive U. And you get my love whether you want it or not. I oughta bitch slap U the next time I see you.
She texts me a silly face emoji and an open hand, then one more word.
Becca: HA!
I laugh through my tears and then text back.
Allandra: I’d like to see U try, Bitch.
Becca: Ha! I’d mow you down like a pitbull over a fucking fluffy dandelion. No contest. Like zero.
She’s not wrong.
Allandra: Ha! That’s really funny!
She’s a gem, my dearest friend, and she’s got me laughing amid my flood of tears.
Allandra: But seriously … I’m so sorry. U forgive me for real?
Becca: Yeps.
Allandra: C U at the bus stop.
Becca: Will do, yes ma’am. This bitch is out.
I giggle. She makes me laugh so much, and I do love her even though she ratted me out to Jackson. Getting so fucking sick of being watched by everyone. Why is everyone turning into my food police?
I nap all afternoon I wake to a knocking sound on my window. It’s about dinner time, getting dark out now.
“Allandra, please, come out and talk to me.” I get up and lift the blinds to see Hunter standing outside my bedroom window with his hands together like he’s in prayer. I drop the blinds, and he knocks again.
Damn me for letting him see me.
Hunter is getting louder as he says, “Please. It’s not what you think. I don’t feel that way. I wasn’t … ”
“What the fuck are you doing here, you prick?” I hear Jackson yell. I run back to the window and lift the blinds just as Jackson is nearing Hunter.
Oh, shit. An alarm pings in my heart.
Jackson lunges at Hunter.
Hunter jumps back. “Hey, Jackson, I just want to talk to her.” He has his hands raised to his chest, palms up—the universal sign for I mean no harm.
“What did you do to my sister? Huh? She’s been crying her eyes out all day alone in her room. Didn’t I fucking warn you I’d cave your face in if you fucked with her?”
I shut my blinds because I can’t watch my brother beat up the boy who made me feel so amazingly wonderful yet so awful in a matter of just one week. I can hear every painful word they are saying through the glass, Jackson firing questions and Hunter denying. And I wish I couldn’t hear them at all. But I can’t resist. I pull the string to raise the blinds and see Jackson towering over Hunter as he shrinks from Jackson’s massive raised fist.
“Wait, Jackson, nothing happened.” It’s an odd scene of giant boys. Hunter is cowering, his body lowering toward the ground, arm raised. Hunter is big, but Jackson is way bigger.
Jackson stops, fist frozen in place. “If you did nothing, then why is my sister crying her eyes out? Huh? She won’t eat. She won’t come out of her room.” Jackson’s model-perfect face is mangled into a snarl like I’ve never seen before. He doesn’t even look like my brother. “What did ya fucking do to her?” Jackson’s arms are fat and thick as any professional NFL player’s, and I’m kind of scared for Hunter. I loosen the knob quickly to open the window. I open my mouth to yell at Jackson to stop.
Jackson’s swing launches, and his fist slams into Hunter’s beautiful face. He yells as the punch sends him to the ground. It’s the loudest sound I’ve ever heard in my life, and I’m terrified a neighbor will call the cops. I cringe and hug myself with a gasp. My hand flies to my mouth as Hunter’s head falls back on the grass.
Hunter is rolling on the ground moaning. As Jackson pulls his arm up, readying another punch, Hunter yells, “It was just stupid talk with the guys. You know how it fucking goes, Jackson. I didn’t mean it.” He’s actually crying.
I’m about to yell for him to stop, but the tears streaming down my face won’t let me.
“You fucker.” Jackson makes a disgusted snort-scoff sound. “Remember, I heard you and your immature friend fucks in the locker room? Remember our talk? You swore on your mama you had good intentions with Landra. I gave you one chance with her, and now you’ve fucked it up. You better not have … ” Jackson groans a battle cry and full-force kicks him in the gut. “Get out of here, you piece of trash. And learn some respect. Women aren’t humping posts, ya fuck.” Jackson throws his arms in the air and trudges toward the house, stomping his massive football-player legs through the leaves like Wreck-It Ralph. He turns back and says, “And mean what you say, because what you say matters. Jackass. Some of us have sisters.” He shakes his head as he walks, turns back toward Hunter, and says, “Grow up, ya dick.”
I hear the front door slam.
Hunter doesn’t move at all. I’m afraid he’s dead until he rolls to his side and tries to stand but falls. He tries again and falls to his knees. He barely manages to crawl to his car. I watch him, crying alone in my room, shivering, wishing Mom were here to hold me. I sink to the floor and make myself into a ball, sobbing so hard my body is shaking like the world is ending. Because it is.
I hear Jackson stomping around upstairs and yelling, letting off f-bombs so many times I lose track.
Then I hear Hunter’s strained yell from outside. “I’m not doing the ‘F and F’! I didn’t do it!” His yell sounds like he’s crying too.
I hear a door slam and a car peel out as that boy I loved kissing, snuggling at the football games, and walking alongside—the one I stare-stalked for weeks, the gorgeous boy-man who made my heart race faster than I ever thought it could without killing me—carries his battered and bloodied body away from me. Forever.