Page 73 of Resist Me

“Well, I can’t guarantee it’s what he wants, but you’d be good for him. He had sex with you and while West can be impulsive and an idiot, he’s not reckless.”

Thinking back on the night he had Jessi in his room, I realized what she meant. He could have still slept with her. It would’ve just been sex. West thought about things more deeply than he let on and he cared about things intensely.

“When we were eight, something happened.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” I interrupted.

“He won’t. At least, not all of it, because he’d never tell someone my story. But without it, you can’t fully understand West.”

“I don’t know if I deserve this from you.”

She reached out to put her hand over mine. “After we were born, my dad went to group counseling. He made a friend there. James also lost his wife in childbirth, but his baby died with her. They became really close. Best friends, you might say. When we were eight, he… started hurting me. I’m sure you can figure that out.”

I swallowed hard and stared at the floor. Was there any correct way to respond to that?

“It went on for a few months until just before we turned nine, and when my dad found out, shit obviously hit the fan. James went to prison, I went into therapy for a bit, and in a perfect world, we would have started to heal as a family. This isn’t a Disney movie, though, so that’s not what happened. Our dad shut down. He couldn’t really address it and he definitely couldn’t move past it. Me and West had to be there for each other.

“When Dad started drinking more, things got worse. He lashed out at West, blamed him for not saying anything and for letting me get hurt, but West didn’t understand what was happening back then. He knew James would be alone with me and I’d be upset after, but we were eight, you know? I guess if Dad didn’t blame someone else, he’d have to blame himself.”

“Maybe he should,” I noted.

“There’s only one person I blame, but it doesn’t really matter. You can’t reason someone out of the pit my dad fell into. He broke and our entire lives turned upside down, beyond what happened with… him. Dad doesn’t drink all the time, but he’s an asshole without it and he’s worse when he does drink. He took everything out on West while he treated me like a fragile doll. The things he’s said to him, Linc… It’s horrible.”

I tried to imagine what that would do to a kid. It was hard to, but I thought some parts of West made a little bit more sense now. In the music room, Willow mentioned West’s need for acceptance. I wasn’t going to make excuses for how he’d acted all year, but I could at least understand it to a degree. It was heartbreaking for everybody involved.

“Neither of you deserved that,” I said. “I wish I had something better to say, but I’ll never be able to understand what both of you went through.”

She slapped her hands on her thighs before she slid off the counter. “No, but when West is acting like a little asshole, maybe you can see it for what it is. And I think that’s enough.”

“Thank you.” I grabbed her hand and offered her the most genuine smile I could muster. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do with this right now, but I appreciate that you trusted me enough to share that with me.”

She grinned as if we hadn’t just talked about some of the most fucked up shit. “That’s why I know you’ll be good for him. You’re a beautiful soul, Linc.”

As she strode from the kitchen, she started singing Beautiful Soul. I simultaneously cringed and laughed at the display.

They were both crazy.

*****

Once again, I was playing my mom’s song instead of La Campanella. After I left West’s place a few hours ago, I’d been stuck in my head. Every time I thought about it, I felt less worthy of knowing what I did about his past. What was I going to do with it? Visions of running after him and pouring out my heart crept into my mind, but I wasn’t ready for something like that. I liked West, but I wasn’t in love with him, so it seemed very dramatic.

It was crazy that Willow barely knew me and thought this meant something. I didn’t know what exactly she saw in me and she wasn’t keen on being specific about it. So, here I was, playing piano mindlessly, alone in my apartment on a Saturday night.

I didn’t know how many times I ran through the song. It flowed in such a way that I could start it over without skipping a beat.

A sound made me stop abruptly. I wasn’t sure if I’d actually heard it, so I started playing again, but then I heard the distinct knock.

Getting to my feet, I maneuvered around the instrument in the small space. I looked out the peephole, then quickly opened the door.

“I don’t need you to do pest control at my apartment,” West said before I could even open my mouth.

“Uh…”

He pushed past me, welcoming himself into my home without invitation. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I didn’t ask you for anything.”

I leaned back against the door, content to just watch him pace and rage. He didn’t seem to know what he was doing here, so I’d let him reason it out.

“How’d you get here?” I asked.

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