Because I Care

"He was pretty pissed off. He slapped me, and he kicked me out of his car, made me walk home. I was pretty stunned, but I walked home. I figured being dumped was the worst of it. But, the next day, I learned that there were worse things than being dumped and forced to walk home. I mentioned that Jimmy was a football player, right? Well, it turned out that the next day, at school, he and most of the other players on the team started spreading this rumor that I had... I had gone down on them all, on that same evening."

Andy's stomach sunk with the knowledge she'd just imparted.

She ended, "Well, I had my nickname that very same day, and the only way I could get away from it was to go to college far from this place, and Jimmy, and all the name-calling, and the rumors. I would've never come back if my mother hadn't gotten sick."

She shivered uncontrollably, huddled on the curb, betrayed, spurned, practically run out of town, and all before she'd even finished growing up. Andy paced, angry, furious, outraged, and unable to do a damn thing about it.

'So, why be angry?' the thought, completely rational, reasonable, crossed his mind, 'Sure, it has its place, but this isn't the place. She doesn't need angry, or furious, or outraged, even if it's justifiable, righteous even. She needs someone who isn't gonna call her that nickname, or start rumors. She needs someone who isn't just another Jimmy, or David.'

"Miss Hatch?" he crouched next to her.

"You now know the worst day of my life," she reverted back to that hollow, dead tone, "You might as well call me Cindi."

"Cindi... Okay. Come on, stand up."

"What's the point?"

"The point is that I'm asking you to stand up, Cindi. You may want to just give up, and sit there, waiting for it all to be over, but I won't let you. People like Jimmy or David, or most those assholes out there are not gonna win. If you give up, they've won."

She shook her head, "It doesn't matter, Andy... not anymore."

"It matters to me!" he snapped, "You matter to me."

She finally looked at him, surprised, and perhaps his words would come as a surprise, especially if they hadn't been spoken before like that.

"Yes, that's right, and I'm right here. And I'm asking you to stand up. Please?"

She started to get to her feet, and he held out a hand to help, which she grasped gratefully.

"Good," he said, "Now, grab your purse, and don't forget to lock your doors."

Glancing at him every few seconds, she did as he said, and stood there with her purse in her hands.

"We'll worry about getting your car fixed later. For now, come on. We've still got about six blocks to go."

"Where are we going?" she asked, uncertain.

"I'm asking you a favor. It's a tall order, especially considering the kind of shit you've been through, but I'm asking it anyway. Trust me."

She blinked, confused, stupefied, "What?"

"I know, it's monumental, something that's probably new to you," he smiled, "But... I'm still asking, because nobody else in this town deserves it, maybe I don't totally deserve it. Trust me."

She looked at him, trying to understand this boy... this young man, who had been brave enough to stay after class, who had been genuinely angry for her sake, and who had stayed to listen to her worst secret, the origin of her horrible, undeserved, untrue reputation, without being disgusted with her. His dark hair was in need of a cut, but his eyes... behind them was no malice, or malevolence that she could tell, just compassion, and hope behind those clear, dark brown eyes, no sneer, or revulsion on his lips, unlike everyone else's, only determination. He was taller than her five-foot-three, by about eight inches, but he didn't seem to tower over her. He was lean, but fit, could probably have tried out for a sport at the high school and made it.

"O-okay," she assented.

Heartened, he walked, and she walked beside him, the insipid neighborhood around them crawling by as they passed.

"It must've been hard coming back to this place," he turned to look at her.

"Unbearably hard," she agreed.

"That took some courage. I don't think I'd have been strong enough to do it, sick mother or not."

"You're stronger than me."

"Physically, yes, most likely... but after being treated the way you've been treated, no, that took some guts."

She shook her head, "One never knows until they're really tested. Even the bravest-acting men, when really tested, will run like cowards. The truly brave ones are usually the ones that can be hurt the most but still go on despite that."

"See? I believe you've just proven my point."

"But I was just ready to give up. I want to give up. I'm not strong enough, not for this."

"I'll bet that even the bravest are allowed to want that."

They finally reached his house, a two-story craftsman-style house, which was worn, but still in decent repair.

"Just my mother and I live here," he looked at it, "My father bailed a while back, but don't tell me you're sorry about that, it's been much better with him gone."

"Is your mother home?" Cindi asked, as if just coming to remember that, despite everything, he was still a student, and she his teacher.

"No, she's still at work over at the plant."

"I don't know if this is a very good idea."

"Have you decided not to trust me after all?" he asked mildly.

She glanced at him, began to argue about crossing lines, and saw his expression, the concern, and shook her head, "No, I trust you... okay."

He led her up the three concrete steps onto the small porch, and she waited nervously while he unlocked the front door. He opened it, flipped on the living room lights, and then stood aside while she went in.

The interior of the home had seen better days, but it was apparent that Andy and his mother took care of what they had. It was worn, but clean, pleasant, warm.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, letting her look around while he went into the kitchen, "We've got soda, water, juice..."

"Soda is fine," she studied the family pictures on the wall. They seemed one-sided, as if part of each picture had been cropped.

He returned from the kitchen with two cans of 7-Up, noticing her attention on the pictures, "We figured that it would look better around here if Stanley wasn't in the picture, so to speak. Well, I figured, my mother agreed. Here you go."

She accepted the offered can of soda and opened it, taking a drink, and then asked, "So, what did you invite me here for, Andy?"

"I'm still hearing some mistrust, but that's okay. I don't suppose it's just that easy to trust after so many reasons not to. I invited you here because I care. You can't be expected to go through this without someone in your corner, somebody to turn to. That's when you end up on the side of the road, hunched up on the curb, and just waiting for it all to end. Miss Hatch... Cindi... I'm not all that different from the rest of those kids. I can be kind of an asshole, too. Or I could. Do you know Franny Hockstetter? Kind of overweight, glasses, a pretty bad stutter?"

Cindi nodded, "I know her. Why?"

"Well, I'm about to tell you about the worst day of my life."

Andy indicated a spot on the couch, "Sit down, please."

Cindi did so, setting her purse down on the floor at her feet, and took another drink of her soda.

"Freshman year, I was a bit different. I became friends with a guy named Julian, along with a few of his friends. We'd hang out, cut up a little, and make fun of people. Well, with a girl like Franny, it was pretty easy. She didn't have much going for her, besides her own personal problems, her dad was, or still is, I don't know, an alcoholic. You see, I got to learn this particular bit of knowledge after the fact, but, when her dad drank, he got a bit... overly fond... of Franny."

"Oh god," Cindi covered her mouth in shock.

"Well put," Andy grimaced, "So, one day Julian gets this idea, 'Hey,' he says, 'Let's play a little prank on poor little Franny.' You see, a girl like that, she is desperate to have a friend, anyone she can confide in, but, geez, a boyfriend? Well, for her, that was like winning the damn lottery."

"No," Cindi shook her head disbelievingly, "Please say you didn't."

"Bear with me a little," he stared ahead grimly, "Let me get through it. I've had to hold onto this for over three years. Just let me get through it. So, Julian comes up with this plan, puts it together, and each of us gets a part. I got the hardest part. I was the one who was supposed to be her boyfriend. Lonny, what he's gonna do is start picking on Franny, and I'd be the valiant guy who would stick up for her. Fuck..."

Cindi looked at Andy, horrified, but silent, and he nodded, continuing, "Right, sorry about the language, but it's apt for this. And, according to plan, I come to her rescue, thwarting the bully, gaining her appreciation. She, being so desperate for a friend, is delighted that I, being such a..." he grit his teeth, "a hero... would want to be her friend. She jumps at the chance, and we hang out. You see, part of the plan was to gain her trust, to gain her friendship, and, wonder of wonders, to be her boyfriend. This is Julian's plan... but I could've backed out at any time, told her the truth, and stopped all of this before she could be hurt by it. I didn't. The second part of the plan was for me to lure her under the bleachers in the gym, on the promise of a kiss. She about pulled me, that's how eager she was for the experience..."

He scoffed, putting his drink down on the coffee table, took a few deep breaths, to steady his nerves, and then went on, "She was so happy, so grateful, she was about to get a few kisses under the bleachers with a guy who actually liked her, wanted to be her boyfriend. I still remember that, her smile, the way her eyes glittered like, 'somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming,' and all the while, Julian, Stanley, Nate, and Bo were getting some people together for a little surprise. I'm not trying to redeem myself, just being honest by saying that, at that point, I was feeling about half as shitty as I felt the next day, which is about a tenth as shitty as I've felt every day after, every minute. At that point, I was thinking about saying, 'Hey, you know what, how about we go somewhere else, too many people know about the bleachers in the gym.' I wish to god I had, because I think that would've meant my redemption. But then, what would the guys say? I'd be the laughing stock of the school, have to change my name, move away. I get her under the bleachers, with enough time for one kiss, enough time to think, 'you know, she's got really soft lips.' And then, lo and behold, there were about seventy kids, split up at both sides of the bleachers. They start laughing. I back away, ta-da, trap sprung, one poor, little Franny has been pranked. The look on her face as she realized that I was in on the whole... fucking...plan... and she was demolished. She didn't even have the strength to run away, crying... she just stood there, staring at me, not glaring, she had every damn right to glare at me, and I deserved that and much worse... no, just hurt, 'say it ain't so, Joe!' Nope, no such luck... she was still there when the joke was over... it wasn't over for her, though... no, it wasn't over at all. As Julian and the others and I walked off, I looked back, and she still stood there... it looked as if she'd been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat, and that was all my fault."

"Andy..." Cindi looked as if her anger would consume her, "How could you, of all people, how could you do something so awful?"

"Yeah, how could I?" he said quietly, "I could've stopped it at any time, or even stuck up for her under the bleachers, and shared in the humiliation. I could've told Julian to fuck off, could've done any number of things different. By the way, the next time you see Franny... take a look at her wrists. You'll notice a line on each wrist, going up her arm, because it's down the road, not across the street... that's where, that same night, while her father was passed out downstairs, drunk, she decided to open those veins and let the pain out. Her mother found her, luckily, or unluckily, if you asked her, called 9-1-1, and used hand towels to put pressure on the cuts. Franny was pretty weak, by then, I guess, or she would've fought her off.

"I learned about her attempt the next day. It was all over the school, how fat, stuttering Franny had tried to take a permanent vacation from life. But it was Julian's reaction, his response to the news, that finally broke through my stupidity. He said, 'It's too bad she sucked at killing herself as much she sucks at life.' I went to Principal Garley... he retired my sophomore year... and I told him of my part in the previous day's plan, also ratting out the other guys. He suspended me for a week, and the others for three weeks. I remember hearing him tell me I was suspended for a week, and I was stunned. I mean, I had destroyed a person, a girl who didn't deserve it, a girl who actually deserved good things, I had shattered her so badly that she had attempted suicide the same night... and a lousy fucking week? I knew I deserved worse than that, much worse. The guys were less than thrilled to find out that they'd been ratted on, but Garley never told them who did that."

Andy suddenly punched the top of the coffee table, making his soda and Cindi both jump. He sat back and looked at his hand, some skin missing, not much damage.

"D-did you ever try to reconcile with Franny?" she asked, but it seemed as if it was from a distance.

Andy smiled, but it was hollow, there was no warmth, no joy in it, and it chilled Cindi.

"Yeah... I tried to talk to her. Tried to tell her how sorry I was... the words stuck in my throat. All I could see was the pain, the hurt, that look that said it all... no anger, though... even after... if she had started slapping me, or kicking me, pulling at my hair, punching me, anything... I would've stood there and took it happily, as much as it took to make things right... but it was just that look, and I knew that there was nothing I could say, no word in the whole dictionary that could undo everything I'd done to her. You want to talk about strength, about bravery? The fucking definition of that word should have her picture next to it. After she got out of the hospital, do you know what she did? She went back to school. I remember thinking to myself, 'I don't even deserve to know a girl like Franny. If I had even an ounce of the courage it took her to come back after that, I would've taken her somewhere else, given her that kiss, and as many as she wanted after that, and I would consider myself fucking blessed to have the affection of that girl."

Cindi wiped her eyes, and Andy got up, grabbing a box of tissues to set down before her. She took a few and dabbed at her eyes.

"So, still feel it was right to trust me?" he looked down at the floor.

She looked at him, thinking about this, wondering if she did feel it was right. He suddenly looked older, worn, perhaps fitting in more with the living room of his home than she'd originally thought.

'He looks like he's seen the face of hell,' she thought, something her mother used to say when she'd seen someone who looked haunted.

"If you had been Julian," Cindi suddenly replied, "I would say I'd made a huge mistake in trusting you. Is... is this why you've decided to help me?"

"I've had a crush on you since the beginning of the year, before I even knew what others were saying about you," he answered, "I think you're beautiful, smart, a wonderful teacher, and brave. Helping you, being there for you, that can't undo what I've done. I know that. Still, if nothing else, you give me a chance to learn from my mistakes, to be that guy I could've been if I hadn't been so stupid. I know you're a teacher, and I'm a student, and there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. I'd never want to do anything that would get you in trouble..."

"I suppose that I could look at all this as some sort of trap," she looked around, "I mean, a lot of today, from your talking to me after class, all the way up to now, is sounding more and more like what happened that day, Andy."

"I've noticed the similarities, too. After all, David and I grew up together, so, for a while, we were friends."

She asked, "Is that what this is? Perhaps you're warning me, like you never did for Franny?"

"I told you, nothing that I do for you can undo what I did to Franny. It won't lift my guilt. And learning from my mistakes does not include recreating a prank I regret ever being a part of. This is no prank, no joke, no people waiting to jump out and laugh. I really want to help, to be someone you can count on, and it isn't for redemption, or to atone, but because I care. If you choose not to trust me, then I'll understand, let you call a cab, and I'll never say a word against you. In fact, I don't even know if I deserve your trust. I mean, look at what I've done. Believe me, I wouldn't ever hold it against you for not trusting me."

"I do believe you. And I still trust you. But... there's still..."

"You're not my teacher here," he looked at her, "Here, you're Cindi, the woman who had some car trouble and needed some help. At school, I'll work just as hard, pass your class, and that'll be there."

For the first time in a long time, she thought she felt something. At thirty-three, her personality was already set, head down, get through life, try not to be noticed, and get home safe. She'd resigned herself to the life of an old maid. But, that flutter in her stomach...

"You're young," she said quietly, "And I'm..."

"I'm eighteen," he declared, "And you're still that girl, the one whose choice in boyfriends was naïve, and that girl deserves to be loved, not shunned."

And, there went that flutter again... was it possible? And, if it was, could she actually act on it, throw away so many years of working on protecting herself from the world?

"I trust you," there it was, out of her mouth even before she realized she'd even said it.

He came to her, and she threw her arms around him, lines crossed, obliterated, and to hell with them, none of that mattered anyway, and he kissed her. He kissed her deeply, and she loved it, and she kissed him right back, and it was wonderful. And why wouldn't it be? They kissed some more, a few minutes of exhilaration. With him, it was finally having the woman in his arms that he'd been smitten with ever since she had introduced herself to his class. For her, well, wasn't it obvious by now?

"Are you sure we'll be alone here?" she whispered in his ear.

"Until eight-thirty," he assured her, and kissed her ear.

He picked her up, still kissing her, and made his way to his bedroom. Now that... well, something was happening, that's for sure, she had little time to notice his bedroom, let alone critique the state of it. She let him unbutton the gray-blue blouse she was wearing, and she shrugged it off. He reached behind her, undid her white bra, and set it with her blouse. He began kissing her neck, feeling her hands slide up and down his back underneath his shirt, and then her hands stopped, and she pulled away.

"What's on your back?" she asked.

So he turned around and took his shirt off. Up and down his back were dozens of scars, none more than a quarter of an inch wide, each scar going at least halfway across his back.

She reached out, tracing one of the scars, "Who did this to you?"

"I told you, it was a lot better when he left."

She leaned forward and kissed his back, "Do they hurt?"

"Not anymore... now, let me kiss your scars."

"I don't have any."

"Don't you?"

He turned and took her in his arms again, kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, and down to her breasts, which weren't big, but proportionate with her petite figure. He touched one, and she shivered.