Mr. B. Urie

10

"You know how long it takes to sell a house and move, right? It took us a whole year, and by the end . . . Let's just say I was probably every teacher's worst nightmare and every webzine's wet dream."

"You were what?!" Brendon gapes at me like he's never heard that saying before.

"I was the eighth-grade whore, Brendon!" His mouth shoots open even farther than before, and I worry that his jaw might come unhinged.

"You mean, like, you dressed in slutty clothes and wore a shit ton of makeup, right?" He asks, running a hand through his hair. It sticks up in all directions, but he hardly notices in the midst of our conversation.

"Yeah, that and I slept with the whole grade. Guys, girls, anyone who wanted a good time . . ."

"You mean, you're not a virgin?" I squint at him, he must be out of his mind. Statistically, that's not abnormal.

"What? You thought I was a virgin? I'm seventeen, Brendon. Come on!" It seems like a laughable topic, but right now neither of us are laughing. "Let me ask you this: are you a virgin?"

"N-no, bu—"

"But what, Brendon? What the hell is the difference? You're twenty-two, I'm seventeen. When did you lose yours?"

"Not at thirteen!" He shouts, standing up now. I can feel tears starting to well up in my eyes, but I push them down. I refuse to cry about this, no matter how upsetting it is.

"Yeah, because your mother didn't die, and you weren't sick of feeling numb. It was the only thing that made me feel anything! After the accident, so many people came up to me and told me how sorry they were, and pitied me. I hated it, I fucking loathed it. So, I snapped. Everyone blamed it on my mom dying, and I let them. I was a monster, I'm not proud of what I did." Finally, my eyes betray me and tears pour out.

"Hey, it's okay," Brendon says, wiping my cheeks with his thumbs. Shaking my head, I look right into his deep brown eyes. I don't want pity, I never wanted it.

"But it's not, because in my stupidity I did something that didn't just harm me, but another person." I cry, pounding my fist into his chest in frustration.

"Babe, what did you do?" Brendon asks, his eyes softer than I've ever seen them. It looks as if his irises might melt down his face. He knows, but he's too afraid to guess. I would be too, it's such an awful thing to do.

"I was two or three months in, and my dad came home to me sobbing. He knew, right then and there. He knew and I couldn't bear it. 'Ariella, what are you going to do?'" I mimic my dad's voice, "'My thirteen-year-old, my baby, having a baby? You have to do something.' My dad said. I don't know if he even knew what he wanted me to do. I don't know if he even cared. He just wanted the problem gone . . . So, I . . . I, uh, took care of it."

"You . . . You had an abortion? At thirteen? Arie," Brendon cries with me now, hugging me to his chest tightly. This is not the reaction I was expecting, but it's the one I needed. I have been harbouring guilt for that child for far too long, and Brendon's arms around me are all I need. "You are . . . The bravest person I have ever met. You win in the horrible past contest, by far. I am so sorry."

*****

I wake up again in Brendon's arms and groan at the memory of what I told him last night. I was hoping to take that with me to the grave. Not even Taya knows; only my dad and I . . . And Brendon now, I guess. "Hey, shhh, don't worry." He mutters in my ear, stroking my hair gently.

"I need a shower, I feel so . . . Unclean." I shudder, sliding my bare legs out from under the covers. I'm wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt, and the air chills my arms and legs. Brendon stands with me, leading me to the bathroom, his hand in mine. He hands me a towel and brushes a stray piece of hair out of my eyes.

"You've been through so much, what if we take a day? I can call in for a family emergency and you can say that you're sick. We can watch movies, and I'll make you some tea and we don't need to leave the house. How does that sound?" His hand still lingers on my cheek and I place mine over top of it.

"That sounds perfect, Brendon. But what are you going to tell them?" He can't very well tell the truth, after all.

"I'll just tell them that my sister is having a crisis. It's happened before, and I'm the only one who knows how to calm her down." He smiles, planting a light kiss on my forehead. "I'll call now, you wait until after your shower."

As I turn around he pulls out his phone. I can't believe I'm skipping school, I haven't done this since I was thirteen. I close the door and fresh tears start to fall from my eyes. I don't even know why I'm crying, I'm just so overwhelmed by everything. I turn on the water and let out a wail. Apparently it's loud enough for Brendon to hear, because he knocks on the door.

"Hey, Arie, is everything alright in there?" He asks through the door. I don't know how to answer that question, because obviously everything is not alright. And I guess I take too long to come up with something because the door suddenly opens and there stands Brendon. "Come, stop your crying, it'll be alright. Just take my hand, hold it tight. I will protect you from all around you, I will be here, don't you cry." He sings, pulling me into a hug.

"This is kind of a weird request, but I can't be alone right now. Can you, like," I struggle with trying to word it carefully. I don't want him to think anything other than I need him to be around.

"I'll be right outside the door. If you need me, just call." He gives me a quick kiss and lets go of me.

"Thank you," I try to smile, although I'm sure it looks scary on my tear-stained face. I close the door again and find comfort in the fact that he is there.