Flash Fiction Friday #17

click on the link above to read JJ's diabolical plot... this is my entry for this week's FFF assignment.

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So anyway, my boyfriend Pete is totally pissed about the fact that we lost him. What was I supposed to do? The inside wants out.

I huddle in the corner of the lounge. He doesn't really know which building is which on campus. I know he won't come looking for me.

I mull over the events of the last 24 hours. The concert, which we attended with one of my "new friends" and her boyfriend. As in "those new college friends of yours are giving you ideas I don't like." You know, crazy ideas like living on campus for my sophomore year, like a normal student.

The lead guitarist set him off, by making eyes at Suzy, then at me, then arching his back in mock ecstasy after she blew him a kiss. That was when I felt Pete's hand clench on my wrist, tugging me backward, closer to him. For a moment I was afraid we'd have to leave the concert. It's not every day you get up so close to the stage. So, I didn't fight him.

He fought with me, later. Calling me a whore, telling me I only wanted to move on campus so I could "slut around" with the boys from the private college. The fact that I wouldn't even have sex with HIM, that I was still a virgin even after we'd dated for five years, seemed to not deter him from the idea that once I moved on campus I'd be the ultimate party gal.

My mother was listening, of course, just inside the door of our house. I had grown used to my sister listening outside the door when I was on the phone, crying and trying to convince him that I DID love him, and that I didn't mean to make him angry. My sister monitored my phone calls, and my mother hung around doorways when he was dropping me off. When she'd had enough of him yelling at me last night, she'd pulled me in and ordered him: "Go home."

This morning I'd been about to leave to go pick up the city bus to the campus, when my father got home from work and told me Pete was parked about halfway down our block.

I was terrified. I knew he would punch me again. He'd only done it once before, this past summer. We'd had an argument (about college) and he pulled over to the side of the road, and told me "get out." So I did. Then he wanted me to get back in, and I wouldn't. He drove away. I sat on the side of the road, in tears. When he came back, I got in. He said "don't ever do that to me again," and punched me in the face.

My mother picked up her purse, and told me she'd drive me to campus. My father walked down the street, talked with Pete, and then I saw his car go past our house. My father came in and wouldn't say much, other than that he'd told Pete "When a girl wants to leave, sometimes you have to let go."

My mother got about halfway to campus and said "he's behind me." She sped up, made a few turns, and god help us she even went the wrong way down a one way street, but she got rid of him. Didn't matter much, he knew where I was headed.

I went to my first class today, but I sat in the back, unable to concentrate. I slipped over to the commuter's lounge, to pick up my mail, and sit here and chill for half an hour.

So anyway, he's pissed.

I know that he thinks it was my parents, trying to keep us apart, especially the way my mother was driving. (A one way street. Unbelievable that I had to have so much drama just trying to get to Calculus.) I know that he is even more furious then he was that summer day. How am I going to tell him that it is ME who wants us to part?

The answer comes to me as I am walking to my next class. I hear a horn blare. I look, and when I see him, I look into his eyes, and then I run. I don't look back. I just run, without hesitation, without any fear, as fast as I can go in the opposite direction.

I'm going to move on campus next fall.