Cramped Quarters - Love Under Lockdown

I wanted to say something clever or cool or sexy.

Oh Lord, please let me come off as sexy.

Not as the nervous, awkward kid that I was.

I was getting so sick of that part of myself and really hoped college might help. It was as if I thought that as soon as I set my foot on campus, I would magically change, like stepping through the portal into a fairyland. Of course things weren’t really that easy, though.

“You have a busy day today?” he asked, raising a handsome eyebrow at me.

“Just a few more classes. I have one in about ten minutes, actually.”

“Yeah, me too. I guess we should get going,” he said, standing up. “But we should meet up again sometime, and not just for boring note-taking purposes.”

I fought the urge to grab his hand. To pull him back down beside me, not wanting him to go yet. The little girl inside me was rearing her ugly head. I couldn’t act like a kid, I was supposed to be an adult, darn it. At least in the eyes of the law and society.

I still wasn’t old enough to drink legally but that didn’t matter as much as some people liked to make out, particularly considering that I wouldn’t even if it was allowed. I’d heard too many stories, most of them about family members on my dad’s side. Mom used to say that recovering from alcoholism was how he’d ‘caught religion.’ Like it was a cold.

So, instead of following my instincts, I purposefully gave him a casual smile and said, “Yeah, that’d be great. And thanks for the notes. I really appreciate them.”

“No problem,” he said with a charming wink.

I watched Augustus go, the gentle swing of his shoulders caused by his heavy-booted stride, even and long. It might have been something he had practiced. I imagined that a gait like that was something that would have to be learned over time, like a beauty show contestant learning to wave or to walk in cumbersome costumes.

I couldn’t shake the feeling. There was something about Augustus that stuck with me long after he was gone. It was more than the almost spectral familiarity which couldn’t possibly be real. If it was, I would remember where I’d seen him before. Unless it was in a past life, which I didn’t really believe in.

Though I did believe in God’s plan. That there was someone for everyone. This was where the idea of ‘soulmates’ originated. It was just possible that Augustus was mine.

The very idea made my heart gush and made my peach feel warm and damp. We would still need to be married before he could take my virginity, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have fun in the meantime.

I decided that if I was going to spend the rest of my life with him, I might as well get to know a bit more about him. He wasn’t around to ask, so I decided to do what everyone did when they needed to know something. I would Google him.

Back in my room, trying to find Augustus online, it wasn’t long before I realized I would need more information. Augustus was an odd enough name in and of itself, but I wasn’t going to be getting anywhere fast without a last name. I looked at the notes he had given me, but they only had the class information in them. Nothing about him. How enigmatic!

I felt my excitement rise as I continued the case. I knew Facebook was getting to be a dusty relic, but it was still worth a try. Not in the least because they showed locations along with the names and photos, helping to narrow things down.

There were only ten guys named Augustus in the state who had Facebook accounts. I started scrolling through the profiles, most of the guys in the photos looking like they were my dad’s age or even older. Finally, between six and nine, I saw him. His face was recognizable as it was unreadable. Augustus Graves.

The name hit like a brick right between my eyes, a deluge of memories nearly blowing me off my chair. Getting up onto shaky legs, I stumbled my way toward the bathroom, hoping I would make it in time.

After putting in a good bit of devotion at the porcelain shrine, I reached up with a shaky hand and flushed. The bathroom tiles were cold under my knees. My soft, empty retching turned quickly to sobs.

Deep and loud, they burst out of me like the puke had. The scars started to ache: the cross on my forearm and the smaller ones on my ass. Both punishments for ‘consorting with the enemy.’

All I’d really done was stumbled across some Black Metal on YouTube. Though Dad acted like I’d already turned to the dark side, and he needed to remind me of who I was. Or, at least, who he expected me to be.