Anyway, this is one of my favorite ones, because I believe I've found my stride with Vance in this story. Earlier, I had trouble distinguishing him from Alice and getting into his thought process, but here I've very satisfied with the way I wrote him, especially with his and Laurence's interactions. Of course, I'm sure there are still things to rip apart.
One thing I'm uncertain of is whether I should start the story with a definition...I was considering doing this for Vance's stories, to emphasize his connection to words, but worry that it might be too schmaltzy or something.
Vicissitudes
9. Vance Again
Futility (n): 1. The quality or state of being futile; uselessness
2: a useless act or gesture
I do not very much like feeling useless; I doubt anyone does. For all of humanity, futility is the most dreaded word, the word that tastes of sour grapes, of stale liquor, of choking cigarette smoke, of hopes and dreams faded and long gone. Futility. The doctor, a fine sheen of sweat on his face beneath his scrubs, throwing his hands up in surrender and telling the family there is nothing he can do. The peacemaker, shaking his head, walking away form a world conference knowing that not a single one of the countries who signed the nonproliferation pact will honor it.
Futility is the ghost, the specter, of the young girl chasing a boy she loves but who refuses to even look at her. Futility is the struggle against a smirking devil, a devil who holds complete power and refuses to relinquish it. Futility is a child, chafing under his father’s restrictions, dreaming of one day standing up to that father and declaring that he—like his mother—is finally free.
And futility would be trying to convince Laurence Flannery to do anything.
I should have known even before I set off to find him. I would fail. How could I possibly succeed—against him? I have only once succeeded against him, and that was less my success than Tyler’s, and less his success than Laurence’s own failure.
Laurence has only failed once, though. He is a crafty man; he learns from his mistakes. I know that he swore, right after I left him forever, to never fail again. And so far, he hasn’t. He showed me this, I believe, my repeatedly drawing Dora Florence back to him, even after she swore each time to never so much as look at him again. But her efforts were futile. She came back to him, in the end.
He made his ownership of her complete, in the end, so complete that it hurt her more than anything—wrenched her heart from her chest—to discover that he’d gotten another girl. He made his ownership of me so complete that I kept a wide berth from him, so terrified I was that he would try—and succeed—to reclaim me. And he would, in time, make his ownership of Pearl Daniels as complete as ours.
I knew all this. Yet I still set off on my futile quest, marching like a solider to war, seeking out Laurence and determined to make him—
Make him what? Well, perhaps make him pay for what he did to Tyler. I think that was my main impetus for seeking him out that afternoon. I had known Tyler for almost three years and I’d never yet seen him—the stupid, smiling idiot, who freely displays all his emotions on his sleeves—come as close to crying as he did that day. I knew he was going to cry if I didn’t go stop Laurence. I knew I’d be at a complete loss to do anything if Tyler started weeping, so I decided to go nip the problem in the bud.
Foolery on my part. Futility on my part. I didn’t feel that my quest was so foolish, so futile, back then, though, when I was striding confidently across campus, seeking Laurence where I knew I would find him. I kept replaying the image of Tyler, his wide blue eyes desperate, begging me to help…
In two and a half years, Tyler had never begged me for anything. What could I do, then, but to listen?
I found Laurence exactly where I knew he would be. He was sitting in the back of his pickup truck, parked in front of his dorm building. His usual posse of minions was nowhere in sight. He held a lit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, and was taking long, slow draughts from it. Smoke curled in the air around his face—I had to resist the urge to cough.
“Hello, Laurence,” I said, making my voice as cold as possible. I couldn’t help it—when I faced him to speak, I inhaled a little bit of the smoke. My chest immediately tightened and my throat burned. I had to turn away from him to cough, not wanting him to see my weakness.
“Oh, hey there, Vance. What’s up?” said Laurence, not sounding interested in me in the slightest. He took another long draught from the cigarette.
“Nothing,” I said, when my coughing fit had subsided. I wiped my hand on the back of my mouth and turned to face him again. He smiled down at me, not seeming to care at all about the purplish bruises disfiguring his face.
“Liar. You’re here for something.” He laughed and waved a dismissive hand at the sky. The sun was setting, washing the sky in pink and orange and bloody red hues. In the fading golden light, his red hair burned like a flame. “Come on—come on up.”
I couldn’t refuse—he even chivalrously extended his hand to me, and helped me clamber into his pickup. Chivalry point number two—he extinguished his cigarette when I settled by his side.
“You’re very generous today,” I said. I even managed to smile at him—not a real smile, just a satisfied little twitching at the corners of my lips. He returned my smile with an equally fake smirk.
“I guess I’m just in a generous mood.”
“I suppose,” I said. I examined him closer, watching the way the bruises stood out against his skin. He smelled exactly as I remembered him—a combination of cigarette smoke, sweat, and faded leather. It wasn’t a bad scent, but not one I particularly liked. “How are you feeling?”
He turned to look me in the eye, looking startled for a moment, but that surprise became replaced by an amused smile. “Thanks for asking, Vannie boy. I feel great.”
“Even after your fight?” I indicated the swelling bruises on his face.
“Oh, these?” Laurence reached up and poked one of the bruises on his cheek. He didn’t seem to feel any pain at all. “Haa. These are piddling, kiddo. Tyler hits about as hard as a paper doll.”
“I’m relieved to see you’re as arrogant as ever. I suppose that means you’re all right,” I said.
“Oh?” Laurence raised his eyebrows, surprise shining in his hazel eyes. “You’re actually feeling concerned about me? That’s sweet, Vance. That’s so very fucking sweet.”
“Shut up,” I said, feeling my face color. No—this wouldn’t do. I had to keep control; I had to keep us on equal footing. It was crucial to my…
Plan? You couldn’t call it much of a plan. It was more several vague, half-baked thoughts I’d tossed back and forth in my mind. I wasn’t even sure how well they would work, but I figured I ought to at least give it a try.
Laurence then made it so much easier. He said, “Hey, wanna go for a ride?”
I nodded my assent.
So we went off, me sitting beside Laurence, him cheerfully breaking speed limits as he hurtled down the mostly-empty streets, away from the university, towards—my heart stopped in my throat when I realized where he was going. The hill. The hill I had gotten used to calling mine and Alice’s, the hill where we watched the stars from. I glanced out of the window, watching the inky blue darkness of night gradually claim the sky, watching the first stars peep out. The night was clear, cloudless. These would be perfect stargazing conditions.
“Stargazing?” I asked him when I realized, watching him out of half-closed eyes.
“You could say so,” he said, with a shrug. “I know you like watching the stars.”
“How very romantic of you,” I said.
“Oh, is this a date?” He turned to me, a devilish light twinkling in his eyes. “Hey—wake me up if this is a dream.”
“This is not a dream, nor is it a date,” I said in as cold and flat a voice as I could manage. But then, I allowed a little more warmth to slip into my voice and I said, “But I won’t deny…I have missed you.”
“Really!” He sounded delighted. “What—finally tired of boring stupid old Tyler? Took you a while.”
“Make no mistake. This doesn’t mean I like you,” I snapped, realizing what Laurence was misconstruing my statements as. “It does mean, though—” I lowered my voice, snaked my hand to rest, with an infinite gentleness, over his “—that there are certain aspects of our relationship…”
“Oh, hell, I am dreaming,” said Laurence, and he laughed out loud.
“Whatever keeps your boat afloat,” I said in reply, and squeezed his hand, hard. I was surprised by how strong his hand felt, how the muscles tensed, how the tendons stood out against his skin…and I realized how easily he could just swipe at me with that hand, and shatter me. In that moment, I became aware of how weak I was in comparison to him, how pathetic and thin and powerless my hand—my self—was.
I began to have my first misgivings, then.
But we proceeded to the hill without incident. Laurence pulled up beside the tree on the top of the hill, and then hopped out—and opened my door for me. More unnatural chivalry. Very strange, but I decided to appreciate Laurence’s politeness while it lasted.
By the time we’d arrived, the dark majesty of night had completely taken over, and the sky above us was an expanse of glittering stars, everywhere we could see. I craned my neck, drinking in the heavens above, trying to recognize the few stars I knew—
“Big Dipper,” said Laurence, slipping to my side and indicating a spot in the sky. I turned to frown at him.
“Ah. You’re not as ignorant as I thought,” I said. I let myself get close to him, closing in the distance between us, so that we were hip-to-hip. I shuddered, feeling his powerful—and familiar—warmth, and again I trembled very slightly inside, wondering if this was the right thing to do…but I thrust my doubts in the back of my mind and took his hand, and squeezed.
“Any idiot can name the Big Dipper. And Orion, for that matter. And there’s the North Star. Follow the fucking drinking gourd, you know.”
Perfect Laurence. Irreverent to the end.
The night was cool, and despite myself I was beginning to appreciate Laurence’s warmth—I hadn’t bothered throwing on a jacket before I left Tyler. Tyler. My insides clenched as I remembered why I’d come here in the first place. To persuade Laurence to…
I had to make my move, and soon.
“And those are the Pleiades—” he went on, still pointing at the sky. “But the fuck, I don’t know where any other stars are. I’m not a trainspotter—star-spotter, I guess. Hmm? What about you?”
He looked at me, then, a teasing smile playing in his hazel eyes. And I, for my part, returned the smile, making sure to make mine as teasing as his. I turned to face him, still squeezing his hand tightly in mine. We were close—so very close. He only had to reach in front of me, touch me, take me, make me his again—
I couldn’t deny it. My chest was constricting and my heart was slamming against my ribcage so violently I was sure he could hear it. I told myself, over and over again, that I was doing this for Tyler because I didn’t want to see him cry. That was all. I was going to debase myself for Tyler…
“But you know,” I said in a low, silky whisper, making my voice as sultry as I possibly could, “that I didn’t come here to stargaze.”
Really, now?” His smile widened, and he extended the hand not wrapped around mine and touched my face. Not roughly, but with almost—kindness, caressing my cheek in his strong fingers.
“Really, now.” I leaned forward, intent on planting on a gentle, teasing kiss on his mouth—but before I could Laurence removed his hand from my face and with lightning speed snatched a fistful of my hair, and jerked me up so we were eye to eye.
“The hell—” I sputtered, indignant. Laurence responded by tightening his grip, squeezing the strands of my hair in his fingers—my scalp was burning—I was sure he was going to pull all the hair off my head—I grit my teeth, trying not to let him see my pain—
I’d lost control already. How stupid of me, thinking I’d ever had it. No. After I left him, Laurence would never let anyone defy him again. Least of all me.
“I’m not a moron, Vancey Nancy,” hissed Laurence, his voice dark and dangerous. None of the teasing good nature was in his eyes anymore—they were burning in rage. “I know you don’t come without strings attached.”
“That’s not true,” I sputtered.
Laurence rewarded my lie by pulling, hard, on my hair. I bit on my tongue to prevent myself from screaming, ignoring the salty tang of blood in my mouth. I—would—not—give him the satisfaction of seeing me scream—
“Yes it is. Teasing, lying, cheating, flirt. You wouldn’t cheat on Tyler without a good reason. I want to hear it.”
“I—” Tears were rising in my eyes, blurring my vision. I blinked as hard as I could but knew I was going to have to shed them, soon. Wanting to avoid any further pain and humiliation, I decided to answer truthfully.
Laurence helped me along by giving a violent shake, jolting me from my scalp to the tips of my toes. “Tell me now, darling slut.”
“I—you and Pearl—”
He dropped me. I gasped as I hit the grass, unprepared for the loss of contact, and lay there in a dazed stupor, sucking in deep breaths like a man saved from drowning. I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding my breath when Laurence had been pulling on my hair.
“Oh, I get it.” His tone was quiet, rife with deep satisfaction. “Tyler put you up to this, didn’t he. What a loser. Can’t even do his own dirty work.”
“He—no! I did this. Because—I wanted to,” I choked as I pulled myself up to a sitting position. Grass was staining my jeans and the front of my shirt, but I didn’t care. “I did this for Tyler.”
“Oh, how sweet. Whoring yourself out for your boyfriend’s sake.” Laurence imbued the word with a heaping dose of bitter sarcasm. “What, did you expect me to stop seeing Pearl if I slept with you for one night?”
Hearing it put that way caused my face to burn from humiliation. How pathetic had I been, thinking this would work…? “Some…something…like that.”
“Dumbass. You really think it’s that simple?” His voice was heavy with disapproval. I shuddered, not wanting to face him, but slowly, I turned around anyhow. He was still leaning against his pickup, his arms folded, anger clouding his features.
“Well, I figured—” I began.
“Any idiot can tell that that isn’t an equal exchange. But it’s more than a matter of exchange,” said Laurence. “Hey—you’re taking Tyler’s stance, aren’t you? That I’m just a dirty old man lusting after poor innocent little Pearl?”
I glared at him as I picked myself up from the grass. I made sure to keep a respectable distance between us, in case he wanted to—coerce—me again. “This isn’t just for Tyler,” I said, a sudden idea floating into my mind. “It’s for her. I will not let you prey on an innocent victim again.”
Laurence’s response was to throw his head back and laugh, a deep, barking laugh ringing with wild amusement. I stood where I was, taken aback, not sure what to do or what to say. At length, Laurence’s wild laughter subsided, and he smirked at me, his eyes shining in amusement.
“You poor pathetic creature, Vance Hikari. You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Try me,” I snapped. “Justify your sickness.”
“It’s not sickness,” he said, shaking his head, amused. “It’s not like you and me. Or even me and Dora. Heaven forbid. It’s—different. She cares about me. She does.”
“Lies,” I said, my voice dull and flat. And I wasn’t just saying this because Tyler didn’t want to believe this—I was saying it because I didn’t. I didn’t want to believe that anyone could care about Laurence, or worse…
…that Laurence could care about anyone.
“Not lies,” said Laurence, still calm. “She cares. She’s not afraid of me, like you were, and she’s not in lust with me but not in love, like Dora was.”
No, no, no, no…my chest had constricted to the point where I was afraid I was going to suffer an asthma attack. I breathed as I had learned long ago: short and steady breaths, in a desperate attempt to calm down. But I couldn’t help but listen in fascinated horror to Laurence’s words, the words I did not want to hear—
Please don’t. Please, give me at least something to believe in. Please…
But he went on, his words cruel and cutting, slicing into my heart with each syllable, reminding me how futile my quest had been—“And it’s more than that. I care about Pearl. I really do.”
No. You don’t care about anyone. You only care about yourself. She’s just a toy, a minion, to you—
“It’s crazy. I mean, I didn’t even think I could care. I used to think—you know—that most people were just idiots. They were fun to play with but that was that. But Pearl…she’s starting to make me think a little differently.”
No. No. Don’t say this. Don’t continue. Don’t kill me more than you already have.
“I—I mean…I can really see myself spending the rest of my life with her, you know? She’s not…I haven’t even fucked her yet. I don’t like her that way. It’s more like…I mean, it’s so weird. I didn’t expect it to happen. But I like Pearl. I want to make sure she’s safe, she’s happy, she’s…I dunno. But hey—remember what I said when we were camping?”
Don’t! No more. No more, Laurence. You always were a sadist. You still are. You can’t care about anyone, you can’t care, you CAN’T—
“Well, I’ll tell you this. Pearl Daniels—she feels right.”
I swayed like a fragile blade of grass blown by the spring breeze, like a dandelion prepared to blow away with the slightest puff of breath. I felt—nothing. Nothing but a sort of devastating emptiness deep within, squeezing my insides…
With one fell stroke, Laurence Flannery had obliterated one of my most precious truths, one of the few truths I’d ever been able to trust, one that helped me place one foot in front of the other and slog through the days. For the longest time, I had believed that Laurence had not loved me because he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to love anyone.
And now, he was talking about loving Pearl Daniels.
“Go tell that to Tyler,” he said, opening the door of his pickup—preparing to leave. “Maybe that’ll convince him to stop trying to kill me, huh?”
“He won’t believe you.” I was shocked that I’d even been able to force the words out, as hoarse and broken as they sounded.
“That’s his problem, not mine. Hey, what’s the matter? Get in.”
I did get in—only because I needed a ride back to campus. I spent the rest of the ride in silence, glowering down at my grass-stained knees, feeling alternately anger and that desolate hollowness gnawing at the cavity of my chest. But above all—a sense of my own failure. Of the futility of my idiotic venture. What business did I have to interfere in Laurence’s relationships? Screw any vague noble impulse on behalf of Tyler. I’d come to Laurence because of me, because I—
Because what? Because I thought he loved me? No, that was nonsense. He couldn’t love. He didn’t love Pearl. He didn’t care about her. I had to cling on to that—that was the only truth I had left. But even as I told myself this, I knew it was fake. The words were pale, fragile, as easily blown away as a dandelion’s seeds.
As we drove home, Laurence rested the hand not steering the car on mine. I tried to jerk away, at first, but slowly I relented, and let him cover my hand with his larger, stronger one. Let him pretend that he cared on some level; I wouldn’t protest. I even leaned closer to him, almost rested my head on his shoulder. But it was a purely symbolic gesture. Useless. Futile.
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Wow...how horribly angsty. O_o
I'm a bit afraid that Laurence's feelings for Pearl come out of the left field, and I'm also worried that Vance and Laurence's innuendo isn't clear enough. But most of all...I realize I have an excess of dashes. Did I really used to use dashes that often in my writing? Aagh...
But I am happy that I've finally become satisfied with Vance's voice.
Can't promise anymore will come up, but if you do read these stories, please review, okay?
They're very dear to my heart, even if they're not my current project.
