You Saved Me Once

by Amelia E. S.

  “No.” I laugh.

  “It’ll be fun.” She says.

  “Yeah, having sex is so much fun. Highly-doubt he just wants to hold hands all night.” I mock.

  “I know you’re a virgin Alex.” She says.

  “Why does that matter?!” I ask.

  The butterflies that have been silent for months come back. I squeeze the wet paper towel in my hand for comfort. I can’t look at Rochelle anymore.

  Someone comes into the bathroom.

  “I’ll see you tonight.” I say.

  I leave the bathroom and walk home.

  Best Friends Forever

  There is some heavy, and dangerous history with Ms. Kristen’s, and her family. She’s more than just a neighbor. She’s a Bartley, was a Bartley, a long time ago.

  Ever since what happened, she’s never been the same, none of us have been. Everyone was affected by what happened between the Bartley’s and Richard’s, years ago. Since then, Ms. Kristen’s been addicted to alcohol, and “legal” boys. Of course, the neighborhood hates her, and mindlessly judges her for something she did in the past.

  She has no one to look out for her anymore, no one. I take it upon myself to make sure she’s not letting someone hurt her, again.

  I owe her that. I owe her more than that.

  When I pulled into my driveway, I noticed the car was still parked outside her house. It's mid-day. It must be serious.

  I should go over there. I want to see Ms. Kristen, hear her voice again, but I’m too scared to walk through the front door. I haven’t been over there in years, her house has lots of memories, and secrets. Bad ones.

  I go up to my room to look at Ms. Kristen. I do this often, because I’m too scared to do anything else. I do this often, when I miss him. From my window I can see her youngest son’s room, and the garage. It is open.

  The garage at Ms. Kristen’s is never open. That garage is from her past, her beautiful yet destructive past.

  It’s filled with children’s toys, and her husband’s 1963 baby blue classic he left behind. Everything that made Ms. Kristen’s into what she is today, is what’s in that garage. She’d never open it.

  Rochelle calls me. I pick up.

  Music screams through the other end of the phone. She started the party without me? I smile at my own accusations. It makes me feel better.

  “Hey Alex, don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry about that stuff earlier, with Jeff. He’s a good guy, you know?” She says.

  I pick at my shirt. Hearing her happy, makes me happy. Then it makes me sad.

  “I know Rochelle.” I mumble. My throat is sore. I’m going to cry.

  “You still coming over, right?” She asks me.

  She sounds sad now, I don’t want her to be sad.

  “Of course, I am.” I say.

  She’s quiet now, and the music increases. She doesn’t say anymore. I hang up.

  I look next-door and see Ms. Kristen in the garage. She’s drunk and sad, but Ms. Kristen still looks beautiful. She’s unbalanced and grabbing the memories in the garage. It’s bad.

  I watch for a while, because I’m afraid to call. I’m afraid to hear the rings, the anticipation pains. I call after a while and sit against the window to watch. I’m waiting, each ring I grow closer to her voice.

  I can see her phone lying on the garage floor, ringing. She picks her phone up and throws it at the fence. The sounds scare me, makes me jump. It hurts me more than you’d think.

  Jake enters my room.

  “Oh my god Jake! What the hell are you doing home?!” I yell.

  “Getting my gear.” He says. I wipe my face.

  “You okay?” He asked.

  There it is, those trigger words that I hate.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” I lie.

  “This is how you’re taking it?” He asks.

  “Hey, don’t do anything stupid.” He says.

  “I’m fine, I promise, Jake.” I lie again.

  “I need a ride to Rochelle’s party; can you take me after my game?” He asks.

  “Don’t worry about Ms. Kristen, she’s fine Alex. What is she, 43? Yeah, she’s too hot for you.” He laughs. I smile at his comment.

  “She is 43.” I laugh.

  “She’s done a lot for us Jake.” I say.

  “She’s fine Alex.” He says.

  He’s trying to convince me. I want to fight his words, but I give in after a while.

  “I don’t ever remember Rochelle inviting you.” I exhale.

  I say this, because I want to hear Jake talk more. I felt warmer with his terrible humor.

  “Ha, ha! So, is that a yes? I have to go, Dylan is here.” He says.

  “I’m supposed to be heading over to Rochelle’s in a few. I could head over to Rochelle’s once I pick you up.” I say.

  I want to tell him about Jeff, but he seems rushed.

  “That’ll work. Do you think you could give Emma a ride too?” Jake asks.

  Emma is his on, and off “totally not my girlfriend”, girlfriend.

  “If I say no?” I ask. He leaves the room.

  “Sure. Emma too.” I shout. He comes back into the room.

  “She’s totally not my girlfriend.” He laughs.

  “Totally.” I whisper.

  He leaves the room again. I hear his heavy cleats make it down the stairs. He shouts all the way from the living room.

  “She’s totally not Alex!”

  “Totally!” I shout back.

  ~~~~~

  I fell asleep at the window. It was now gloom, and dark outside. I’m definitely late to that damn party.

  I check my phone, there are texts and missed calls.

  Hey Alex, its Jeff. am I picking you up?

  – Jiff

  Alex where are you!

  - Roc

  Okay, I said I was sorry about the whole Jeff thing. But he really likes u. Like really. Give him a shot ☺

  - Roc

  I just want to say that I love uyy so sooo muoch!

  -Roc

  I smile at Rochelle’s text. Jake calls me.

  “Alex. Its Jake.” He says.

  “Why did you just introduce yourself?” I ask.

  “I’m calling from Emma’s phone, so I didn’t know.” Jake says.

  “No, I have Emma saved into my phone as Jakes Girlfriend, hey Emma!” I joke.

  Static pours through the phone.

  “I’m going to hang up now.” He says.

  “Come on Jake, what’s up? Why aren’t you playing in the game right now?” I ask.

  All of Ms. Kristen’s lights are on, I hear her screaming at someone inside.

  “Earth to Alex, Hello?! They canceled the game because of the storm.” He mumbles.

  “I’ll be there.” I say.

  I hang up the phone. Then I call the police.

  I let the line ring, I dread each ring, it brings back memories. An operator answers the phone. There’s static at first. Then there’s a voice, it’s a woman. The entire time I’m scrunching my hair.

  I stood there for a few moments, trying to calm myself down. I was overthinking, I was blowing this out of proportion. I should hang up.

  When Ms. Kristen gets into these moods, it’s bad. I’ve only seen her like this a few times, those being the worst times for her. For the Bartley’s and the Richards.

  Could this mystery boy, be from the past? My past?

  I look at the car next door. I’m now fighting back tears. I can’t think straight. I’m still on the phone with the operator. I should hang up.

  I get goosebumps at the thought, hoping it was just a thought, not the truth. It couldn’t be who I think it is, it can’t be.

  They were never coming back, they can’t come back.

  My phone chimes, it’s a text from an out of state number.

  I REALLY NEED YOU RIGHT NOW.

  WHO IS THIS?

  HAYES.

  Everything inside of me panics from the name. I hang up and throw my phone.<
br />
  It was him. It was Hayes.

  I’m now crying out loud uncontrollably. Everything comes back. The pulsing in my stomach, the pit. The cold gets colder, but I can finally breathe again.

  It felt like I was standing there forever. Time was slow, yet everything was happening so fast. Police sirens flash in my window. They park next door, at Ms. Kristen’s.

  I run outside, in the pouring rain. Ms. Kristen is in her doorway.

  “Are you the one that called it in?” The police officer asks. I nod.

  I watch the rain roll off of his hat. His voice is flat, heavy, mean.

  “Yes, but it was a mistake.” I cry.

  He ignores me and walks over to Ms. Kristen.

  I stand in the rain, trying to catch my breath as I wait for Hayes. I want to see him, I want him to see me. I don’t want him to hate me. He hates me now.

  He comes outside, but the rain’s heavy. I walk closer to their house. I’m scared to get too close.

  I see his curly hair, he’s wearing a green hoodie, and black shorts.

  “Hayes!” I yell. The rain masks my voice. I yell again.

  I watch the police put him in handcuffs, my hands are shaking now.

  The police and Hayes were about to pass me, I reach them first.

  I wanted to tell the police to stop. I wanted to ask him why he was doing this to Hayes. I wanted to hear Hayes, I wanted to apologize.

  When they got close enough, I did none of those things. My throat pulsed, I fought the tears when I looked into Hayes’s eyes. I stay silent. I feel too much to speak. Even though what just happened was my fault, I do nothing, again.

  The red and blue lights paint over me. I look at the sirens, instead. It hurts too much to watch him be placed in the car. I jump when the police slam the door. Only now can I cry aloud. Only now can I look at him.

  The rain washes away the tears. I want it to wash away more.

  When I look at Hayes, I cover my mouth, and squeeze my shaking hands. Hayes shoots me glances the entire time he sits in the car. I apologize multiple times, but he can’t hear me.

  I apologize again, for a secret. I say a secret, but he can’t hear me. The rain is loud.

  This brings back memories. When we were young, and he was leaving Versa. It feels the same, but it hurts more.

  I fight back the fear and walk to the police car, but I’m too late. Before I can get close, the car drives off. The exhaust is the only thing left behind.

  I stand in the rain, with drenched clothes, now coated in exhaust.

  I look at Ms. Kristen, she looks at me. She wipes her face before going inside her home. I don’t know how much I can take, before I break down.

  Seconds later my older brother Adam, pulls into our driveway. He slams his car door, I jump.

  I haven’t seen him in months. I needed a hug. I needed to feel better.

  “What the fuck did you just do Alex?” He shouts at me.

  I can’t breathe through the rain, I can’t catch my breath. The pit in my stomach is heavy. He doesn’t know? He can’t know, can he?

  “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Adam!” I cry.

  “You just called the cops on Hayes?” He shouts.

  “I didn’t know it was him, I’m sorry.” I cry again.

  “You just fucking called the cops on Hayes.” He says.

  Who is Hayes? Hayes, Hayes Bartley. Hayes is Ms. Kristen’s son. Hayes, is everything.

  I’m Sorry For Everything

  “A week-long of exams, and this is what I get to come home to.” Adam says.

  Adam is trying to stay calm.

  His sarcasm almost makes up for this fucked up situation. I knew his sarcasm was to hide that he was fucking pissed. He’s hurt, I can tell.

  “You said you watched him all day, and it took that long? If you even cared about them, why-why didn’t you go over there? Better yet, call Ms. Kristen, before it escalated?” He asks.

  “Come on Alex, you’ve known him almost your whole life, and you couldn’t recognize him?” Adam asks. I scrunch my hair.

  I can recognize Hayes anywhere, but I didn’t see Hayes. I didn’t know who was hurting Ms. Kristen, she’s been hurt before. That’s why I called the cops.

  I want to say this aloud, but I stay silent. I’m quiet, in fear I’ll say something, I’d regret. Instead, I pick at my wet hair, breathing through the minimal, cold air.

  “What’s going to happen to him?” My voice is low, it hurts now.

  “They’re probably going to hold him overnight since his mom will be too fucking drunk, to do anything.” I can hear the sadness in Adam’s voice.

  “I’ll go next door and talk to her.” I say.

  “Don’t Alex! Just, don’t!” He shouts.

  I get chills from his voice. I didn’t want him to be mad at me, yet I’d rather hear him scowl me. I’d prefer this, over silence, but that’s exactly what I get. Silence.

  Adam heads up to his room, I hear him drag his feet up the stairs. Then there’s silence, too much silence.

  I try to comfort myself, but it’s not working. I could feel the harsh butterflies in my stomach, the burning in my throat. I’m about to break down.

  I needed a distraction. I needed to numb this pit. The memories, the dark secrets are about to flood my mind.

  There’s an old text from Jake, he reminds me to pick him up. I didn’t want to do anything else wrong today, I know that’s impossible.

  I go to my car, drenching myself again. This time, the rain was heavy enough for me to get lost in it. I wanted to lose myself in this storm, forever.

  I start the car, and it turns off seconds later. The battery blew.

  I yell, stomping my feet. Every part of me is drenched, everything feels gross. Yet, I don’t move. I’m too sad to move. I sink into my seat and close my eyes. I take my keys and scribble on my pants. I’ll do this until the tears fall. The tears fall.

  Everything was coming back. The unwanted memories. Memories of the Richards. Memories of The Bartley’s. Memories of Hayes. The secrets, the dark secrets, and everything. I can’t stop them.

  This Summer

  I met the Bartley’s 13 years ago. The Richards were the “new” neighbors in this small town. At the time I had no clue why my mother decided to move so far from home, in a town we knew no one in.

  It was a widowed mom, and her 4 hyperactive kids who had an impulse to never sit still. We were a handful, but she knew how to handle us somehow.

  I imagine life before Versa was quite dark, though I’d not know. I was too young to remember those memories anyways. I remember the black dresses, and suits at my father’s wake though.

  He passed a year before we moved to Versa. By the time we got here, the town knew all about the widowed mother.

  That’s Versa for you.

  The Bartley’s, they were different. They welcomed us with open arms, they were our friends. More than that, they were our family. They had been living in Versa their entire lives.

  In fact, Ms. Kristen was raised, and grew up in the same house she lives in still to this day. She invested in the perfect family. A traveling husband, committed to work, and her two boys. All perfect.

  The oldest was Hayes Bartley. When I met him, I was only 4, and he was 7. He was like another older brother. Then their youngest was Timmy Bartley, he was only 2, he was perfect in every single way.

  Over the years, our relationship with the Bartley’s grew, so fast and strong. We all build relationships with one another, some more than others.

  One summer, when I was ten years old, Hayes confessed his deepest love for me.

  The confession was on a folded paper, with the cheesy “yes” and “no” check boxes. We were so young, yet he wanted me to be his girlfriend, forever.

  At the time he was still my “brother”, I thought it was gross.

  “How romantic! You should say yes!” Squealed Rochelle. Even back then she was a fan of romance.

  Hayes handed me the note in f
ront of everyone, and I read it aloud. I’d thought I had done something wrong. I thought “what did I do to deserve an embarrassing letter in front of everyone”.

  “A girlfriend?” I say to my mom.

  “I think it’s very cute Alex. But, he’s like your brother.” My mother says.

  I contemplated on the idea for a full, 2 hours.

  Then I’d go back outside, hiding the note behind my back. Hayes was there, with a handful of picked flowers from his mother’s garden.

  We quickly make a trade, without eye contact.

  I got the flowers, and he got the note. When he goes to look at it, I can see his face. He was destroyed.

  I said no.

  I was his first heart break that summer.

  If only I knew that was only the beginning for summer heartbreaks. This summer was going to be the worst.

  I was big on all-nighters, forts, tents, and movies. They were the best during summer nights.

  I only had Rochelle, and Hayes, they were my only friends. Sometimes, my friends had friends, and it was just me and my thoughts. Sometimes, I’d host all-nighters, alone. I called them “shut up thoughts I can’t sleep, so let’s draw and listen to the radio all night.” It was better than crying, I guess.

  How can you miss someone you barely knew? I missed him every night. Every night that summer I thought of my father.

  Most nights would turn into “dawn” mornings. Like always, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d sleep in my mother’s bed. I could always fall asleep in her arms. We’d look at polaroid’s from my dad’s book, as she played in my hair.

  I should’ve been more careful that day.

  The air was moist, the dryer was going off, downstairs. I call for my mom, she doesn’t respond back to me.

  The sun was coming up.

  I open her closed door, without knocking.

  As soon as I do, I feel the most painful pit in my stomach. It’s as if I’d lost my appetite, without even being hungry. It ached, it hurt. I’m mute now.

  The noises had stopped when I peeked inside. The mood was heavy, I could faint from the pressure.

  My mother calls after me, but the man closes the door.

  Mr. Bartley closes the door. Right in my face.

  It was a dream. These words kept mumbling, as I go back upstairs.