Page 76 of Turn

Yes, I did need to go home. I needed to go home and I surely couldn’t get behind the wheel, not like this. And it was kind of cool of Parker to offer to get me home safely.

Parker was helping me into his car when I lurched away and vomited on the ground. Not a lot, and I avoided getting any on his car. I stared down at the puddle of brown liquid beside the front bumper.

“Sorry,” I gasped, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I still felt crappy but it seemed like my head cleared, just a little. I was now crouched in front of Parker’s car. I remembered this car from the night Parker stayed with me in the college parking lot while we waited for Uncle Conway and his tow truck to arrive. I didn’t recall noticing then that there was a decorative license plate in the front. The logo was giant red N and across it in white lettering was the word Huskers. My dad was a fan of college football and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew the autumn Saturday games he watched had something to do with the license plate on Parker’s car. I just couldn’t quite connect the dots.

“You’ll be okay, Cassie,” Parker said, helping me stand upright and guiding me to the comfortable passenger seat. “I’ve got you.”

I leaned into the seat and closed my eyes as I felt the car begin to move. I inhaled the scent of the leather seats and hoped I wouldn’t puke on them.

“Do you know where to go?” I asked Parker. The car had stopped and I opened my eyes to see we were just at a red light. Parker was staring straight ahead, one hand on the steering wheel tapping along to the radio music.

I recited my street address and Parker stopped tapping.

The look he gave me was rather odd and lasted for more than a beat. I had the impression that he was making a calculation, an assessment.

“You know how to get there, right?” I asked.

He nodded and turned his attention back to the road as the light turned green. “I’ll get you there,” he said.

I stared out the window as the familiar streets rolled by. We weren’t far from my house. I hated to think what my parents would say when I stumbled in smelling like vomit with the news I’d left my car parked on a side street a few blocks from ASU. Maybe they wouldn’t be awake and I could just ask Curtis to help me retrieve my car before it got towed away in the morning.

It was again becoming difficult to keep my eyes open. I still felt strange. As if I was being detached from the world one second at a time with nothing but a watercolor unreality left in its place.

I pinched my own thigh. I opened my eyes wide and willed my mind to turn back from the fuzzy cavern it was entering. My eyes closed anyway.

“We’re here,” said Parker’s voice and I knew the car had stopped but I couldn’t quite convince my limbs to move. My eyelids fluttered and saw the friendly lights of my front porch. Then they closed again and I felt myself sliding because it was the only thing I could do, slide against the nearest solid surface.

“Cassie?”

“Hmm?” I slid down further.

“Are you awake?”

Parker had asked me a question but answering was too much trouble.

Then we were moving again, slowly, and it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, to just drift and float. The car had stopped once more and I heard my name being spoken but I didn’t want to talk. Nothing mattered because I was comfortable. I was falling back and back some more, probably stretching out on my bed at home. I could sleep now.

Except I couldn’t sleep because there were hands on me.

Hands pushing my shirt up, snaking beneath my bra, a thick breathing in my ear, a voice whispering, “Fuck, you’re hot,” and it wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. A vital part of my mind snapped like a rubber band and I opened my eyes to see Parker Neely was leaning across the seat, which had somehow been moved to a reclining position. The hands on my body belonged to him and they weren’t welcome there. Everything crystallized in one terrible second and I knew I needed to grasp it and hold on.

“No!” The word was meant to be a scream but was more like a hoarse whisper. “NONONO!”

My fingers reached out and fumbled with the door handle, clawing to get out while Parker said my name in a confused, almost hurt way. But he’d always been a liar. He still was. I knew that now.

“I ordered you something I know you’ll like. Hardly has any alcohol in it, I swear.”

The door opened and hot summer air hit me in the face. I leaned out of the car, my purse falling to the pavement. I stuck my fingers in my throat and gagged. I had to get it all out, whatever he’d given me. His hand was on my arm, trying to pull me back into the car even as I retched and a layer of bilious liquid surged out of my stomach and onto the ground.

“Cassie, let me help you,” Parker begged with his two-faced concern and I wanted suddenly, desperately, to kill him. I kicked blindly, in the process falling out of the car completely and to the concrete. That was okay, that was good. My knee landed in my own vomit puddle but I was all right because I was out of the car now, crawling backwards, away from him, away from the guy who had handed me that drink.

“Trust me, trust me…”

“What did you put in it?” I tried to shout but the words were only a soft whimper.

“Cassie.” He’d bolted from the driver’s side now. “Cassie, stop. I said I’ll help you.”

“WHAT DID YOU PUT IN MY DRINK?” I screamed.

Things were still wavy and vague; the scrape of my skin against the concrete as I clumsily skidded away, the sight of the park swings moving gently in the hot wind. I recognized this place. We were at a park just down the street from my house. I’d played on those swings as a child. Then I focused on the sight of Parker Neely’s face where the expressions of guilt and anger warred with one another and yet were utterly unmistakable.

“CASSIE!”

That was another voice, not Parker’s voice, and there was another face, not Parker’s face, but the one I had been wishing for. The arms lifting me now would never hurt me. I clutched at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and letting out a low moan of relief because it was a miracle that he was here and because I knew with absolute conviction that this man wasn’t like the other one. None of the awful things he’d told me about himself mattered. I knew him. I understood him.

This was the man I could trust.

“Curtis,” I whispered with gratitude and sank against the safety of his body.

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