There's a single occurrence of the "f" word, so according to the MPAA this needs must be an "R".
Again, more Vicissitudes for your enjoyment. Again, if you're not one for gay or bisexual relationships, please don't read this.
This is the story from Vance's perspective, and it...well...I had to write three drafts before I was halfway satisfied *bashes forehead on desk* So yeah, this might seem a little more forced and awkward than the previous one. I don't know why, but Vance's voice is so very difficult to do.
Vicissitudes
2. Vance
I suppose I always had a choice. For instance, I could have said “No.” So many times, that one word would have spared me a world of pain and humiliation—if only I’d had the guts to say it. Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly poetic, I almost want to say that that word, no, could have altered the entire course of my life.
I could have said “No, I don’t want to,” to Laurence when he asked me to go to the Homecoming dance with him—and I would have been spared two and a half years of being used and abused. I could have said “No, I’d rather not,” to Tyler when he asked me to live with him and become his—and I wouldn’t be mired in my current troubles. And I could have said “No, take me with you!” to Mother…
And I could have said “No, I’m busy this weekend” when Ludwig Florence, unofficial “school florist” and guru to half the campus, invited me to go camping with him, his sister Rhodora, Tyler, and Laurence.
Camping, of all things. I have never been one for the outdoors, and even less for physical activity. I certainly don’t see anything entertaining in sharing tents with mosquitoes and hiking through muddy forest paths all day long. I can’t agree with Thoreau. To me, beauty isn’t huddling in a shack watching birds and fishies in a lake. Give me a good book and a quiet, ventilated, well-lit room any day.
But I couldn’t well refuse Ludwig…I’ve never been able to refuse him, actually. In fact, I don’t know anyone who has flat out refused one of Ludwig Florence’s requests. You just can’t. Perhaps it’s the way he phrases his requests, like questions, saying “please” or “it’s all right of you don’t want to…” Then it makes you feel awful inside about saying no to him, not when he’s asking in such plaintive terms. Or maybe it’s the way he smiles, so knowingly, his face serene, as if he already knows you’re going to go and you’d be a fool not to. How can you refuse such a smile?
Funny enough, it was Alice who convinced me to go, even though she hates Tyler and Laurence above all. She told me, “Just think—we’ll be miles away from any city. The stars are bound to be beautiful.”
I had to grudgingly concede that she had a point. Alice usually does.
So that was how I ended up on a week-long sojourn in the woods, away from any library or lecture hall or anything that could be mistaken for civilization. At least the campground had flush toilets and showers. I wouldn’t have been able to stand it if it didn’t. I don’t know what to do if it weren’t for small blessings.
Another small blessing—Laurence. I’m surprised to even consider him a blessing, given that whenever he sees me he harasses me and tries to get me to return to him. As if. I’ve given up far too much to ever return to Laurence again. Leaving Laurence is one of only few things I’ve ever done that I can actually be proud of.
Much to my surprise, though, Laurence mostly left me alone during the trip (excepting a single instance at the beginning…). That was because he was too busy making out with Dora. Yes, Rhodora Florence, Ludwig’s younger sister who had broken up with Laurence about five times already over the past year. Or perhaps six. Anyhow, they’d apparently gotten back together again for the sixth or seventh time, and were too busy eating each other’s faces to notice anything else during the first few days of the trip. I didn’t know whether to puke or laugh. Probably a combination of the two.
In any event, it meant Laurence avoided me, so there you go. Never look a gift horse in the mouth.
The trip was surprisingly uneventful—aside from a few memorable conversations with Alice and Tyler—until the end. The last night we spent camping, Laurence found me when I was outside, stargazing. Alice, as usual, was right—the night sky out here was only faintly smudged by light pollution. Every star was a distinct pinprick of light on the inky night. The Milky Way, like a bridge to the cosmos, arced high above me.
“Hey.” I heard Laurence before I saw him.
“Yes?” I tried to sound as bored and detached as possible, but I couldn’t help but stiffen when I heard his voice. I’ve never been able to avoid seeing Laurence, but ever since I left him two and a half years ago, I’ve always tried my hardest to keep from engaging in a direct conversation with him. I no longer feel anything for Laurence but contempt, but…that doesn’t stop a small, primal part of me from fearing that like he did all those years ago, he will drawn me in, entice me with false-friendly words, and before I know it I—
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Laurence continued. I recognized that tone all too well—it was the same tone he’d always used when speaking to me. Condescending, smug, self-assured. Well, he was in good form.
“Sure,” I said in a noncommittal grunt. Then, I summoned the courage to turn around and cast him a sidelong glance, my eyes half-closed. “Why are you even talking to me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just thought I wanted to have a nice heart-to-heart with my ex, especially considering that we haven’t spoken in what, two years.” He was smirking, his hands in his pockets, hazel eyes shining even in the dark of the night.
“Two and a half.” I corrected him before I could stop myself. “Go away. I do not wish to speak to you.”
“Gee, that’s harsh. And direct, too,” said Laurence, barely sounding
perturbed. “You’d have never said that back when we were together.”
“We are not ‘together’ anymore, so this means nothing.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Laurence laughed—a low, darkly-amused chuckle that caused hairs to stand up on the back of my neck. I’d heard that laugh too often in my nightmares. “Sooo…how’re things coming along without me? Miss me much?”
“Not at all, thank you very much,” I said through gritted teeth. “And you seem to be handling life without me very well yourself.”
“That’s not true.” A hurt tone slipped into Laurence’s voice, but it was a playful tone. He could never feel hurt for real. “I think about you every day, Vance.”
My response was to unleash a derisive snort.
Laurence must have taken issue with my reply because when he spoke, there was an edge to his words, like he was irritated. “Don’t be that way, Vannie boy. I’m sure you’re happy enough that you’re ‘free’—”
“Free”? Was I really? Am I really? Oh, when Tyler first came along and persuaded me to leave Laurence, I truly did think I was free. I thought I’d been liberated, saved from a life of numb and hopeless despair with Laurence. The instant I left him, I made sure to purge myself of all his influences—I pierced my ears, cut and dyed my hair for the first time, and threw out my entire wardrobe in favor of a look laden with belts, chains, and eyeliner. I thought, with the blithe foolishness of a newly freed country, that if I could change my image enough, I could leave it all behind forever. The new me was a confident, bold young man who didn’t care what anyone else thought. The new me was not the boy Laurence had tormented for so long. Even for a short time, I believed I could be reborn into someone bolder, stronger, better.
Alice, unlike me, was realistic enough to see that chains and hair dye were not going to change my situation. Even as I blithely changed my outward appearance, Alice reminded me that my life would not be happily ever after.
One afternoon, when we were in the library perusing dusty old history tomes, she turned to me, her dark eyes sharp and accusing, and said, “You’re just like a South American country.”
“Really?” I frowned at her out of half-closed eyes. “And how’s that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her voice airy, falsely cheerful. “Only that you’re constantly passing from dictator to dictator.”
I had nothing to say to that, because it was the truth. Tyler took me to Laurence, with promises of freedom and liberation. Liberation from oppression, freedom to pursue my own happiness! He gave those promises, like any good dictator would, but in the end they were all just a bunch of hot air. Lies. He spun his own web of oppression over me, a crushing web I couldn't escape. I didn't even realize it was there until it was too late, because it crept slowly on me. One little thing, piled up after another.
It started simply enough, with Tyler mandating a curfew, then dividing all my free time into carefully portioned chunks of hours, most of which were, go figure, to be spent with him. At first, he justified it by saying he was doing it all to protect me, that I was too innocent and not ready to know the world yet…
Innocent? Ha. I’d lost all my innocence the day I first spoke to Laurence Flannery.
“Do you love Tyler?” Laurence said to me, that final night at our campground. The night had grown darker—even the last fickle embers in our campfire had died down—and Laurence had drawn up a folding chair opposite me. To my surprise, it wasn’t difficult talking to him. As the night wore on Laurence had dropped his cocky and condescending bluster, and had become quieter, more serious, more—attentive.
“No.” I answered first without thinking, then, feeling my face burn red, added, “Well—I don’t know.”
“Oh, really? Did you say ‘I don’t know’ just to be politically correct?” A teasing light danced across Laurence’s hazel eyes.
“No,” I said, feeling irritated. “It…it’s complicated. I…”
It’s true. I didn’t love Tyler at first. I was grateful to him for saving me from Laurence, but I soon came to realize that life with Tyler was little different from life with Laurence. Over time, I discovered that Tyler didn’t love me—that he wasn’t even oppressing me out of “love”. Tyler, idiot that he is, only cares about the basest, most superficial of things. To him, I’m a trophy, a prize hard-won, to be admired for my appearances and intellect. But not my self. I doubt, in those early days, that Tyler even knew anything about my personality. He was too busy walking around with his arm around me, crowing about his triumph over Laurence. I can’t say I blamed him much, but still. Couldn’t Tyler recognize that what he had done—was doing—to me was just as awful?
But I’m not denying that I feel something about him. And he feels something about me. Believe it or not, Tyler has convinced himself he’s in love with me. He’s not, obviously; it doesn’t take a genius to see that. But I know I could get Albert Einstein to point out the evidence to the contrary and Tyler would still insist on “loving” me. He’s always been stubborn. I don’t know what to say to Tyler. How can I tell him that no, I don’t love him, and he should stop being delusional and face the real world, a world where ours is not a relationship of love but of need?
The ironic thing is that less than a year ago, I would have been able to tell him this and believe it. I would have been able to say those words in his face, and smirk when he took an offended step backwards. Now…I can’t.
Because even if I don’t share Tyler’s love, I can still appreciate the way his face lights up when he speaks of our being lovers, of the way he smiles at me and the way he hugs me, not crushingly, but with a wary tenderness. I can even accept his hand in mine, and follow his lead, content in his presence. He’s trying his best, in his own awkward way, and who am I to mock his efforts?
There was no way I could convey any of this to Laurence, though. Eventually he grew tired of waiting for my answer, and plunged on into his next question.
“What about Alice?”
I almost knocked my seat over in my shock.
“What?” I couldn’t help the way the word came out, tore from my throat, strained and high-pitched and disbelieving. “What are you—”
“What?” Laurence looked bored, disinterested. He rested one hand on his chin and gazed at me, expectant. “That is her name, right? Your annoying childhood friend. It was either Alice or Alyssa or something like that. And her lasts name’s Prague or Moscow. Can’t remember.”
“Yes, her name is Alice Berlin,” I said quickly. “But I don’t see what she has to do with this.”
“That’s funny, because I do.” Laurence was smirking now, a quiet, self-satisfied smirk that did not extend to his eyes. “Huh? You’ve seen the way she looks at you. Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
“Don’t you—” I felt hot, suffocated, unable to force my words out. “It isn’t like that—”
And it isn’t. The relationship I have with Alice is something else entirely. Something almost sacred, beyond both friendship and romantic love. It’s unfair to compare any relationship I might have in the future with the one I have with Alice. What I have with Alice is special; it is the deepest kind of friendship possible.
But even as I tried to put this in words, an unbidden memory rose within me—a memory of Alice. Of Alice resting her hands on my shoulders, her eyes desperate, her wavy dark hair matted and sweat-soaked. She was speaking, words I could no longer remember, but I remember she was trying to appeal to my conscience and common sense, begging me to leave Tyler before he destroyed me…
I wasn’t focused on her words, though. I was remembering her eyes, the way they glistened with moisture, the way they burned with longing…
Laurence must have noticed my reaction, because when he spoke he sounded delighted, in the most visceral way. “See? I told you. She’s got a fucking crush on you, I’m telling you.”
I ignored Laurence’s profanity and instead fixed him with as ferocious a glower as I could summon. It was the first time that night that I’d looked at Laurence in the face, instead of staring at the sky or my lap. I was surprised by how little he’d changed since he first spoke to me in the cafeteria five years ago. Sure, he was taller, and a little more muscular, but overall he was the same. His hair was ginger-red as always, close-cropped, his hazel eyes still shining with deep amusement, his features still arrogant and proud. And—he was handsome. I couldn’t deny it. I could see, in that moment, why Dora would be attracted to Laurence. Handsome, athletic, and intelligent as he was, on the surface he must have appeared every girl’s dream lover.
It was with Dora on my mind that I asked Laurence my next question, ignoring his previous slandering of Alice. “You and Dora…”
“Huh?” Laurence stiffened, straightening ever-so-slightly, his eyes flashing sharp and alert. He looked like a predator that had sensed a rival in its territory, and was now tensing to fight. “What about us?”
“You got together again,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” said Laurence, leaving the isn’t it obvious you idiot unsaid. “Hey, don’t get any ideas—”
“If you think I’m jealous of her, don’t worry,” I said, fighting the bizarre urge to laugh. Me, jealous of anyone who came close to Laurence? No, I wouldn’t be jealous. Hell, I would encourage them! If it meant less of Laurence’s attention was focused on me…
“Haaaa…well, she’s just a fun diversion,” said Laurence, glancing to the side. “A fun little detour until I find something a little more…real.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed, a short, derisive half-bark, half-snort. “I can’t believe you. You, Laurence Flannery, believing in true love?”
“It’s not true love,” said Laurence, annoyed. “It’s…” He cast his eyes skyward for a moment, before meeting my eyes again. I jolted back, my heart leaping into my throat. I’d never—never—seen Laurence so serious before.
“It’s more like…just finding someone who feels right,” said Laurence, his voice so quiet I had to strain to hear it, even against the infinite silence of the night.
I had nothing to say to this. I still do not.
Even now, months after our excursion to the forest ended, I still can’t help but mull over Laurence’s words. Finding someone who feels “right”…I’m hesitant to agree with anything Laurence says, but I can’t deny something about those words appeals to me. It seems as good a definition of love as any, after all.
And so, according to Laurence’s definition, have I found love? I don’t know. There are times, many times, when I feel put out with Tyler, the blonde idiot. Sometimes they’re small irritations, such as when he forgets it’s his turn to do the laundry, and other times they’re more major issues, such as his controlling nature. But then there are also times when…I feel there could be worse things than being with Tyler Daniels. Sometimes I’m content just lying by his side, letting him run his hands through my hair and whisper nonsense in my ear. Nonsense mostly concerning that little band of his, which I’m convinced will never get off the ground but he’s convinced otherwise. Most of the time I’m irritated at Tyler for being so obsessed with his band…
But these times, few and far between as they are, I feel everything is all right in the world, and I can almost regain a sliver—just a sliver—of my old optimism. I allow myself to hope, envision a happier future in which Tyler and I have a genuine relationship, based on mutual trust and sacrifice.
Then morning comes and Tyler invariably does something stupid that makes me wonder why I even bother putting up with him in the first place. But c’est la vie.
And where does Alice fit in the picture? Laurence was convinced Alice had a crush on me and I…I can’t deny it. I might not be so keen when it comes to other peoples’ emotions, but I’ve been with Alice so long that I understand, on an innate level, what she feels. I don’t have to look at her to see the longing burning in her eyes when she pleads for me to leave Tyler. I know what she wants.
But for the sake of our friendship—for her own sake—I’ve held back from giving her my reply. I have enough courtesy to wait for her to spring the question before I answer her, even though in my heart I already know what my answer will be.
Because of this I pray that Alice never asks the question. No matter how detached I might act, I am not one to play with my best friend’s heart. So I will hold this wolf by its ears, and remain in silence, and hope that Alice does too. She will. She’s an intelligent young woman.
It’s strange. Prior to our little excursion to the mountains, I’d never given such in-depth thought to my life and relationships. Sure, I thought about them, and often…but mostly in a sardonic, Let-whatever-happens-happen-see-if-I-give-a-damn way. I don’t want to think of that trip as a life-changing experience…that’d be too tacky, and it isn’t true, anyway. My life is more or less the same. I’m still Tyler’s, and Laurence is still alternately breaking up and making up with Dora at more or less a regular pace, and Alice still entreats me to leave Tyler.
But I can’t stop thinking about Laurence’s words back then, when we both sat facing each other in the dead of the night, the stars burning coldly above us. Someone who feels “right”. I’m still struggling to puzzle out what it means, how it applies to my own life, or whether it applies at all. I’m thinking, now, though. Thinking about things I’ve previously more-or-less accepted as unchangeable truth, not to be questioned.
Maybe, in that way, it’s a good thing I didn’t say “no” this time. Maybe it’s a good thing I went on this trip, as irritated as I was by the idea, and my own inability to refuse that stupid florist. I wouldn’t go so far to say I emerged a better person, but would I have been lacking something if I hadn’t gone?
I think I would have. And so at least this time, I am glad that I made the right choice.
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Yeah...again, I'm skittish because I've never done a romance before. And I kind of worry that Ludwig and Dora are tacked on...they are important characters, and will play a bigger role in later stories, but for now...I needed to introduce them. Yeah. *frets frets*
Fire at will, men!
