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Meg
I went into the bedroom and began pulling clothes from drawers and the closet, shoving them into a duffel bag. I had two hours until Cory would be home, and I planned to be gone by then.
In the living room, I gathered my school notebooks from the dining room table and took a quick glance around, trying to think of what I might be forgetting. I loaded a shopping bag with a couple of rolls of toilet paper from the hall closet, loaf of bread and peanut butter from the pantry, then grabbed a butter knife from the drawer.
Through the window, I saw my car parked in the driveway, could already feel the cold seeping into my bones, the tension in my shoulders as I hunched into myself to stay warm.
Once again, I was being chased from my home. Five years ago, it was Ron Ashton who came in with promises that ended up being lies. This is just how financing works.
And now it was happening again. Another man taking what he wanted while the rest of us scrambled to accommodate him. I remembered what Ron had said to my mother when she’d confronted him. When she realized she had no legal recourse to fix it. There are winners and losers in life, Rosie. You’re the loser here. Take the loss and be smarter next time.
Then I saw Kristen’s eyes meeting mine in the mirror. It’s the Girl Code. We have to look out for each other because no one else will.
Slowly, I retraced my steps, putting things back where they’d been. My notebooks back onto the table, my clothes back into their drawers, the food back into the pantry.
Thanks to Kristen’s girl code, I was going to have to stick around and make Cory pay.
***
You might think it would have been impossible to stay after discovering what Cory had done. I admit, the first week was hard. But every time I thought about leaving, every time I suppressed a grimace when he reached out for me, I kept my mind far into the future, on what the landscape of his life would look like when I was done.
After a while, it got easier. I played the role he wanted me to play. Reminded myself I’d done harder things. I can admit now, I was good at it. The pretending and manipulation slipped over me like a second skin. Maybe you judge me for staying. For holding him close instead of casting him out. But if you take a look at where Cory is now, I think it’s pretty obvious that holding your enemy close makes it much easier to slip the knife into their back.
***
It’s amazing how much heavy lifting a printed Craigslist ad can do, if you leave it in the right place. For sale—2006 MacBook Pro—$500 obo.
“What’s this?” Cory asked, carrying it into the kitchen, where I’d been cooking dinner, nursing a glass of wine, waiting for him.
I flipped the pork chops in the pan and said, “I can’t work in the computer lab indefinitely. I’m going to need my own machine.”
Cory set the ad on the counter and said, “But a used one? What you’ll save in the short term will cost you more in the long run. Invest in a good machine now and it’ll last for years.”
I gave him an exasperated look. “Wouldn’t it be nice if I had a spare $3,000 sitting around?” I said. “This is how people in the real world get the things they need.” When he didn’t answer, I said, “I suppose my friend Liam could probably find one for me off the market.”
“I’m assuming that means stolen.”
I shrugged and took another sip of wine.
“I’m not going to let you do that,” he said.
“Let me?” I set my glass down. “I appreciate your advice, but I’ve been on my own for a long time. I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
I left the room before any more solutions could be suggested, leaving used and stolen as the only options in play. Over the last two months, I’d discovered that Cory craved being the problem solver. The wise sage who fixed the messes I often created for that purpose—the overdrawn bank account, a snafu with the city college admissions office, a grade dispute with an unreasonable professor—his tone always slightly condescending and smug. Satisfied that I was exactly who he believed me to be—young, naive, and wholly dependent on him. Cory loved being the hero. All I had to do was give him the space to be one.
***
Three days later, Cory came home with a brand-new MacBook Pro. “You shouldn’t have done this,” I said, admiring the box. The delight on my face was entirely legitimate, mostly because of how easy it was to get there.
Cory slid another bag toward me and said, “And a case to put it in. Consider it an early holiday gift.”
I pulled out a padded leather case with a long strap that could be worn across the body and a zippered pouch for the cord.
I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. “My whole life, I’ve had to scrounge and piece together the basics. And now…” I trailed off, absorbing the possibilities ahead of me. “You’ve given me my future.” It wasn’t a lie.
He tilted my chin up so he was gazing into my eyes. “I’m sure you can think of a way to thank me.”
He was reaching for his belt buckle when the doorbell rang. “Damn. I forgot, Nate and I made plans tonight.” He adjusted himself and crossed the room to open the door.
