Page 5 of Deprivation

As I make it over to the front door, my stomach growls. I’m trying to watch my budget, but wish I’d stopped at Luigi’s to pick up a pizza on the way. I creep in quietly so as not to wake Paul, as he’s been asleep on his couch when I’ve called many evenings of late.

The TV is on, illuminating the hallway as I enter the den. Suddenly, heavy breathing stops me in my tracks.Oh, heck, is he watching porn?We’re not at a place in our relationship where I feel comfortable walking in on him jerking off. Paul was my first, and while sex hasn’t lived up to the hype I’ve heard about, he seems confident in his abilities, and I’m confident it’s better than being alone.Have I been a complete disappointment in the sack?God, did he have to resort to porn to make up for what I wasn’t giving him?

“Fuck, Paul, don’t stop!”

Wait, what?Do they make personalized porn now?

Stepping farther into the hallway, I peer around the door frame to see Paul’s flabby, naked ass pistoning up and down on top of a red-haired, flush faced girl. Her hair is matted to her face, covered in sweat. When the reality of the situation finally hits me, my eyes widen, and my hands fly to my mouth in horror, causing my purse and all of its contents to land on the floor with a thud.

“What the fuck, Kat?”

Chapter Three

Twelve Years Earlier

Kat

“What the heck, Paul?” I shout.He’s yelling at me? “Who is this girl?” I sputter in protest, backing away from the two of them, trying to regain my composure.

“It’s none of your fucking business who she is or anyone else I fuck,” he spits. Standing to his full height, pulling on his pants, he continues his rant. “Come on, little girl, did you think I wouldn’t get bored with you after all this time? You were a nice ride while it lasted, but get a grip, Kat.”

The girl with the red-haired mop sitting atop her pink, sweaty, freckled face leans on her elbows and laughs incredulously.

“Most girls would’ve gotten the hint when I kept saying I was tired and would bail,” he utters.

Are you kidding me? What an asshole.How could he have been this much of an asshole and I couldn’t see it?As much as I hate myself for letting him see the affect he’s having on me, I feel tears start to trickle down my face.

“Fuck, Kat! You want to know who this is? This is Stacy. She’s my girlfriend. She goes to Rutgers University, and we decided until we could live in the same zip-code we’d be open to seeing other people.” The ridiculous redhead just shrugs her shoulders and looks at me with complete disdain.

“Girlfriend?” I choke out, mouth suddenly feeling dry. More tears fall. I’ve never felt so humiliated and after the number of times I’ve been laughed at by the ‘mean girls’ at school, that’s saying a lot. It suddenly dawns on me, I’m like the second-string quarterback just subbing until the main player can return to the field. Or am I third string? He said, “oranyoneelseI fuck.”Oh, God. I immediately taste bile in my mouth. I’m so naïve. I’m on birth control, but never considered we needed condoms. I always thought we were in a committed relationship. My gut tightens, and I quickly run toward the door, flinging it open in just enough time to wretch into the bushes.Boy, I’m glad I skipped Luigi’s now.

I feel my bag land a few feet from me with a crash, its contents thrown about the yard. Managing to keep the remaining stomach acid from regurgitating, I start to crawl about the ground in search of the various items which have scattered amongst the tall grass.God, this place needs a better lawn service.I grab a tampon from the ground and gaze up to see Paul and Strawberry Shortcake mocking me.

“And please, don’t call me, I’ll call you… not!” He laughs and kicks my purse so it flies a few more feet, decorating the neighbor’s yard with confetti, pharmacology flip card confetti. The tears turn to sobs, and I place my head in my hands to stifle the pure humiliation I feel. Wiping away tears, I return to crawling about and gathering my things.At least the porch lights are off. Maybe I can go unnoticed until I can pick up all of this-

“Hey, you okay?” I hear shouted from across the parking lot. Before I can answer the one soul who seems to actually care that I might be in distress, I notice he’s surrounded by a crowd of people holding red solo cups as if they are headed to a party. “And this is why you don’t do drugs, ladies and gentleman,” he pronounces, drawing guffaws from the crowd like a standup comedian. Cue the waterworks.

After trying to compose myself, I drive the twenty minutes to my family home. Arriving to my residence, I tiptoe in the front door and up the stairs so as not to attract any attention. I can only imagine the fright my swollen face will cause my parents. It certainly wouldn’t elicit any affection beyond a flat pat on the shoulder and a, “There, there, it’ll be okay.”I don’t need to relive the night’s events for that.

“Is that you, Kat?” Mom asks as I hit the second step toward my room.

“Yeah, Mom. It’s been a long day and I have to work early tomorrow, so I’m just going to bed.”

“Okay, good night.”

Well, that was easy. Part of me wants to call Olivia, but I’ve experienced enough disgrace for one night, and don’t want to risk hearing any “I told you so’s.” I walk briskly to the bathroom, needing to brush the awful taste of vomit from my mouth and wash the stench of regret from my body. After disrobing and climbing into the shower, I stand under the blistering hot water and begin to feel the tears build again.Heck, how are there any left?I scrub my skin raw with the loofah hanging from the shower caddy, but it feels like I can’t get the filth off of me.And to think I went to senior prom with that dickhead! Those are some memories I’m going to cherish.

I drag my weary body from the steam-filled bath, wrap myself in a towel, and manage to make it into my room before I hear Rachel come up the steps with a friend in tow. There’s no way I need to highlight my devastation in front of Miss Perfect and her friend. She’s never been rejected, nor would she ever fall prey to someone with the assholery of Paul. I’m sure it’d make for great sleepover conversation. ‘Poor Kat. She doesn’t have much luck with boys.’ I dry off, put on sleep clothes and climb into bed, covering my head with my pillow.Please, sleep, take me quickly. I don’t want to keep replaying this awful night in my head.

* * *

Morning presents itself fitting of my mood, downcast with heavy rain showers. I put on my clothes and make my way to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth before heading downstairs for a cup of coffee. I’m going to need it. I tossed and turned for much of the night, but thankfully I managed to fall asleep at some point. Scheduled for the early shift at the drug store, I don’t have time for breakfast. Figures, since there’s a feast fit for a king, scratch that, princess spread on the table in front of Rachel and her latest sleepover buddy. After I pour a cup of coffee into a travel mug, I grab a pancake from the top of the stack sitting in the center of the table. Ignoring Rachel’s eye rolls, I give quick goodbyes to Mom and Dad without making eye contact and swiftly head to the door.Who am I kidding? If Rachel is holding court at the table, they probably never noticed I made an entrance, much less an exit. I look for an umbrella to take with me to work and come up short. “Mom, is there a spare umbrella I can use?”

“Oh, Kat, I thought you had one in your car. We’ll need the one in the closet when we take Rachel’s friend home. Just use a plastic grocery bag.”Really Mom?

I pile my hair on top of my head in a tight bun and decide to make a dash for the car, minus the grocery bag. Of course, the key gets stuck in the lock, so I become completely drenched in my efforts to gain entry. I lean over the front passenger seat and find my old, beat up umbrella and place it into my purse so I can retrieve it quickly once I arrive at work. Driving the short distance to the drug store, I have the air blasting in the hope it’ll dry my hair and clothes. I don’t want to resemble a ‘wet Kat.’ As I park the car and look at myself in the rear-view mirror, I realize no amount of makeup in the world is going to help the way I look today. I can’t blame this on the weather. I’m wearing last night’s mortification like a glove. Might as well just face the day and get it over with.Swinging the car door wide, I attempt to open my umbrella, but only half of the tattered thing deploys. Reaching up, I try to hold the other side over my head long enough to jog to the front entrance. As I shake the rain from the useless excuse of a parasol, I notice Olivia is standing under the storefront awning, awaiting the manager’s arrival.

“Man, Kat, rough morning?”

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