Forgive Us Our Trespasses Read online

  And there it is. I look at Jen, and I see the exact moment when it clicks for her; she knows all about my family. I have to give her credit though; she recovers quickly. “Thank you, Mrs. Donavan. It’s good to see you all as well.”

  My past, my father’s death, my constant pity-party has followed me to college…great. I came here to get away from this exact scenario. When we moved to my mother’s hometown after my father was murdered, the uncomfortable feeling of having an entire town know what happened was suffocating. All I wanted to do was turn eighteen, go to college, and start over. I couldn’t keep seeing the sad stares and watching people try to tiptoe around my lack-of-a-father situation. Now here it is again, looking me straight in the face.

  My face feels warm and my ears are burning. This predicament has me completely turned inside out and completely let down, embarrassed that Jen and I will have to not only know each other, but live together.

  But then, Jen gives me a huge smile and takes my hand in hers, shaking it fiercely. “My mom kind of stole my thunder. So I’d like to start over. I’m Jen! Please tell me that you have cute shoes, because the closets look pint-sized and sharing is going to be a must. I don’t care what size you are; I will squeeze my feet into whatever you have.”

  Relief floods my face, and my laugh spills over my lips. “I’m Vivian. And you can borrow whatever you like, as long as you have awesome handbags that I can steal.”

  “Don’t you worry, Jen; I carried the entire Macy’s shoe department up here in duffel bags. You guys will be fashionably well-equipped,” Amanda chimes in.

  The tension that was choking me is completely gone, and we all get to work unpacking and finishing up. Jen and I decide to share the same room; the other two roommates haven’t shown up yet, and since we already get along, it would be better to be safe than sorry.

  Within the hour, everything is done, and I am itching to get my mom and little sister out. Jen and her mom go out to pick up a few things from Target for our room, and the others have not shown up, so it’s the perfect time to say our goodbyes. I know what’s coming; my mother won’t be able to contain the waterworks, but in no way do I regret my decision to come here.

  No longer able to contain herself, Mom belts out, “Baby girl, if you miss home, you can always transfer back and go to the community college for the spring semester.”

  “I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ll call every week, and I promise to drive home often.” I pull her into a hug and whisper into her ear, “You know I’ll miss you, and I love you, but I need to do this…for me. Please be okay with this.”

  “I am, Viv. I’ll just miss you so damn much,” she says as a tear escapes her eye. She wipes it away quickly; she’s trying to be strong for me, but her eyes are betraying her.

  Amanda finally looks up from her phone that she has been on all afternoon, texting her flavor of the month, no doubt. “Hey, what am I, the leftover kid?” she complains.

  “I’m glad that you can finally admit that, Manda. I was starting to feel guilty about being Mom’s favorite,” I shoot back in a teasing tone.

  Amanda crinkles her nose in insult, and rises from the couch that she has not moved from in hours. Her idea of helping has been to bark orders from her throne to all of us peons. Now that she is a senior in high school, apparently her coolness-level is off the charts. “Ha ha ha, Viv, that is just so funny. Besides, you and I both know that that coveted role belongs to Charlotte.”

  “That is absolutely not true, Amanda Marie! I love all my girls just the same, and you know that,” my mother’s clipped tone lets us know the teasing is officially over. Her nerves are shot, and her emotions are written all over her face. She certainly doesn’t want to be having this conversation, joking or otherwise.

  Yes, Charlotte, my older sister. She went the route my mother wishes I would. She’s three years older and went to a community college locally to get her Registered Nurse License. She graduates at the end of this year, and plans to stay there and work at the local hospital…well, until she gets married at least. Her dream is to get married, have kids, and be a stay-at-home mom. While I think that is great, Charlotte has more potential than any of us, is smarter than any of us, has more talented than any of us, and yet she doesn’t want to do anything with it. I really love her, but when I see her, all I can think is wasted talent. I don’t want that to be me.

  After my father died, she took on a pseudo-parent role in the household. While Amanda is the free-spirited sister, Charlotte is the mother hen, and well, I’m just trying to be normal, whatever that is.

  My mom’s voice breaks into my whirling thoughts, “Okay, it’s getting late, and it’s a long way home; we better get on the road Amanda.”

  I give my mom and Amanda one last hug and say my good-byes, promising a trip home as soon as possible. It’s a promise that I hope I really don’t have to keep. When they finally leave, I let out a heavy sigh and relax onto my perfectly made bed. This is my new home. Good, bad, or ugly, this is my new life, and I’ve never wanted anything more.

  Classes don’t start for another three days, so I’m not too worried that only one more of our roommates has moved in by Friday evening. We were told that kids would be moving in all weekend; I just insisted that I be there on the actual day that they let us in—yeah… I’m that girl.

  Jen and I clicked with Carly the minute she walked through the door Friday morning. Uber-nice is putting it lightly, but she is not at all fake. Ditzy, yes, but not in a let’s-save-mankind-and-drown-her kind of way. She has gorgeous light brown hair that is paper straight, and sapphire blue eyes. She has curves for days, which I’m sure attracts lots of male attention, but I get the feeling she is a tad self-conscious.

  Jen’s never said another word about my dad, and I’m totally okay with that. I came here to get away from the old me, the me who was swallowed up by her father’s death. I don’t know if Jen is uncomfortable with my past; or she just doesn’t judge me for it. Either way, I am thankful for her and the fresh start.

  Our Three Musketeers status is cemented pretty quickly. Once Carly is settled in, we go exploring, checking out the neighbors who we could find, the bookstore, and the dining hall—which, by the way, has the best and largest waffles known to man. I can feel myself drooling, and I can already feel my curves expanding at the sight of those huge disks of breakfast perfection; if I’m not careful, the ‘freshman fifteen’ would turn into the ‘freshman thirty’. I am on the short side…who am I kidding?...I’m a hobbit with shoes. So needless to say, any pound gained is definitely a pound seen. There is nowhere to hide it. Not to say I’m husky or big-boned or whatever the new politically correct term is, I’m just average. I’m not gorgeous like Amanda, I’m not super-tiny like Jen, nor am I full-figured. I am more the athletic build; I rock the 3Bs: b-cup and a bubble butt. Yep, I’m average, which means I’m not noticeable. I’m not beautiful, but not ugly, just average, and that’s okay by me.

  “I say we stay in tonight, hang out, and then tomorrow meet some people on campus after waffle time; hopefully my roommate will be here by then,” Carly says, hanging over the end of the couch, her long hair sweeping across the floor, as she, no doubt, is trying to digest the massive subs we just inhaled for dinner.

  I could not agree with her more, especially about the waffles. “Good idea, I don’t think I could even move at this point. Let’s just put PJs on and watch movies, or play a board game or something.”

  Slowly we all gather ourselves off the floor and couch to get ready for our chick-flick-o-Rama evening.

  We each take our turns in the bathroom, scrubbing the remains of the day off our faces and changing into our pajamas. In my most comfortable yoga pants and tank top, my long auburn hair piled high on top of my head, and wrapped in my favorite fleece blanket, I make it back out to the living area. We all come armed with our movie selections, Girls Just Want to Have Fun, Sixteen Candles, and Pride and Prejudice.

  We get settled and start the first movie; of course,
we all love a little Mr. Darcy time.

  “I don’t know; I think if I had the choice, I would want the Jane and Mr. Bingley love story,” Carly says, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Jen turns to her wide-eyed, mouth open and just stares at Carly.

  “WHAT!” Jen screeches once she gathers her voice. “Mr. Darcy is soooo worth swooning over. I would chop off my left arm just to have the chance to have a guy say those things to me.”

  “Why can’t it just be a quiet, comfortable relationship? Jane and Mr. Bingley were smitten, just not over the top.” Both look to me to settle the argument. Good call, guys. Yeah, ask me, the girl who has never been in love, the girl who hates what love can do to a person. I’m not sure if I’m even capable of that emotion; I’m too afraid of losing my heart to ever take the risk.

  Dodging the question, I get up to refill my soda and start another bag of popcorn for the next movie. When I get back, they are still waiting for my answer. Well shit…think, think, think. Act like a girl; what is the girly, touchy feeling thing to say? SHIT!

  Out of desperation, I finally blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Carly, while Jane and Charles were absolutely adorable, and it was evident that they cared for one another, I think what Jen is saying is that they lacked the fire that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth obviously had. I guess there is no right answer. They each had two different kinds of love; the real question is, what kind of love do you want?”

  Jen’s glazed-over look tells me immediately that I’m either half-crazy, or it went totally over her head. Yep, the girl with no heart strikes again.

  “Okay, so I have no idea what in the world you just said, but what I do know is that if you aren’t in my Lit class this semester, I’m so transferring to yours. You can definitely help with my literary impairment. I could never come up with something like that, and I have a feeling that my GPA will need every little bit of help it can get.”

  “Oh, my God, I am not cheating for you!” I shout, hitting her with a pillow.

  “Hey, I didn’t say cheat,” she says, grabbing the pillow from my hands and resting it behind her head. “But a little assistance never hurt anything. I swear you’re like a walking, talking style guide; it would be a shame to not put that brain to use to help others.”

  I can’t help but chuckle at her very thorough defense of what I consider bending, if not breaking, the rules. Despite my resistance, I know that I will probably help her out. Damn, I’ll probably end up writing some of her papers myself. I shake my head, “You are going to get me in so much trouble this year; I can already tell.”

  “I surely hope so; this is college. We are supposed to have fun!”

  “Just don’t get me arrested.” I have never been in any real trouble before, but I’m sure that phone call home would not go well. Knowing my mom, she’d let me sit in the cell all night to think about what I did, just like when I would get sent to my room as a kid for picking on Amanda. Then after letting me sweat it out, she’d drive up here and drag me home.

  “Anyway, so Carly, are you scared you got matched with a dud for a roommate? We can always make a special bed on the floor in our room if she turns out to be completely terrifying,” I tease.

  “Just for that, you can’t come dancing tomorrow night. I’ll invite all my new nice friends to The Suite. It should be packed because it’s the last Saturday before school; I thought we could all go.”

  “Oh, come on, I’m just teasing. I’m sure she won’t be too bad; you know, maybe she’ll be like a Tarantino gun slinger or something.”

  “It would be nice if we get along, but really, as long as she sticks to her side of the room and doesn’t borrow weird things like underwear or anything, I think we’ll be good.”

  “Seriously? Underwear, Carly?” I ask skeptically. I’m not sure I would be okay even looking at their underwear, let alone stealing it and then wearing it. That ranks up there with crazy lint-stealing guy who keeps girls’ dryer lint from the Laundromat in his pocket and smells it all day. I’m not sure he exists, but my mom sure warned me of such creatures when she explained college basement Laundromat safety on the drive here.

  “Well, you never know! My sister said that her roommate in college had no concept of personal space. She borrowed her B.O.B., and my sister found it under the girl’s pillow!”

  “Oh, my God! That is absolutely nasty!” Jen shouts with a body shiver to help enunciate her complete disdain. I smile, but I am clearly lost in the conversation.

  “What is a B.O.B.?” I ask casually. Jen looks at me like I’m insane and have escaped the state hospital.

  “You have got to be kidding me. It’s every girl’s trusty companion; you never leave home without it,” Jen defends.

  “You mean, like Chapstick or your Visa card?” Carly jokes, earning a dirty look from Jen, who apparently takes this particular topic seriously. I hide the bottom half of my face in my pillow to cover my growing smirk that would put me in the hot seat like Carly.

  “A B.O.B. is a battery operated boyfriend, also known as a vibrator.” Jen sits up straight like she is going to lecture us on something of grave importance. And from the sounds of it, she finds vibrators to be of the utmost significance. I haven’t lived in a cave my entire life. I have heard of pleasuring yourself; I’ve even tried it a time or two. When I had sex for the first time, I figured one or both of us were doing it totally wrong, and I’d needed to figure it out ASAP; yeah, it was him. In a town the size of mine, I didn’t want rumors of my abilities–good or bad–floating around. I initially had sex to see what the fuss was about, and as it turned out, there shouldn’t be such a fuss. I have never used a vibrator, but as I tune in and out of Jen’s lecture, I’m starting to think maybe she has a point; I’ve been missing out. Lit education for a little sex education doesn’t seem like a bad tradeoff. I zone back in for the last bit of her rambling to catch probably the most significant piece to her oration.

  “They have been saving girls from romantic dry spells since the late 1800s, and in the last decade orgasm engineers have managed to perfect the design of those wondrous little mechanical love sticks. No girl should go without. Don’t worry, Vivian, we will fix you up beautifully.”

  I nod and smile instead of verbally responding. All words have truly escaped me. What does one even say in response? ‘My favorite color is purple, so make sure it’s a big ole lavender thing.’ Yeah, I think not.

  Feeling proud of herself, Jen snuggles back into her blanket and pillow to finish our girls’ night. We start Girls Just Want to Have Fun, but none of us makes it through; we all fall asleep. Carly is on the couch, and Jen and I sprawl out across the floor.

  Brooks

  “Dude, the room is so far; why does the room have to be so far?” Will slurs as he stumbles into the dorm elevator.

  “Shut up, Will. We are almost there,” I say, holding him up against the wall of the elevator as the doors close. “I swear if you throw up in this elevator, I will leave you in it.”

  My roommate Will and I thoroughly enjoyed our Friday night. I’ve decided college is definitely the place for me. We started at a few dance clubs on College Avenue, but it didn’t take long to realize that Will has about as much rhythm as a three-legged dog, so his wingman status was demoted. We left and made our rounds at the house parties off campus, and from there, our night took off. The alcohol flowed, and no one cared that we were underage. Will was hilarious, which brought invites to more parties, and my looks brought the ladies. I know my strengths, and a pretty face happens to be one of them, so of course I play it up. It’s helped to get many girls in the past, and I look to increase those numbers here.

  We both had our fair share of drinks; I’m feeling the dizzy fuzzy feeling that lets me know I’ve reached my limit, but Will, on the other hand, is apparently having trouble handling his liquor. Helping his drunk ass is no easy feat; the boy is large–not tuba player in the band large either–I mean linebacker, rugby player large. I can hold my own, but Will�
��well…he’s scary. We got to know each other pretty quickly though, and he is just a big teddy bear. He really is just an all-around nice guy, the kind that all the girls would love to bring home to their mothers, and the kind that their fathers’ wouldn’t threaten and/or kill.

  Will’s definitely not like me. Maybe one day I’ll care about actually being with a girl long enough to want to know her last name, let alone meet her parents, but that time is not right now. I’m interested in one thing—pussy–any way I can get it. After tonight, I realize there is certainly an abundance of it for the taking, and Will is the perfect guy to help reel them in.

  The ding of the elevator signals our stop and the doors open, giving me a brief moment to muster my strength to carry Will down the hall to our room. We live on a co-ed floor, which is evident from all of the fluffy door decorations and white boards saying ‘I heart whoever’ on them. Having beautiful girls around all of the time is fantastic for collecting images for the spank bank, but I know better than to shit where I eat, so the girls on this floor are off limits. I may be a man-whore, but I’m not stupid. There is nothing worse than a crazy obsessed woman, who knows where you live.

  We stagger to our door, barely making it without falling. Thankfully, it’s unlocked, and we walk right in. It’s pitch black, so I drag Will as best as I can down the tiny hallway to our bedroom. The dorms are small, but I was adamant that I get the apartment-style dorm; we have more people in the rooms, but we get a living room and our own bathroom. There was just no way I was going to share some tiny living space with some other guy when I wanted to ‘entertain’.

  The door is already open, so with every bit of strength I have left, I heave Will onto his bed on his side of the room. Completely out of breath from lugging Goliath the fifty feet to our room and still feeling my buzz, I slip off my shoes and crawl into bed. I let the spin of the room and thoughts of young naive co-eds ready to experiment lull me to sleep. Yeah, this year is going to be epic.