For no reason, my eyes fill with tears. I blink several times to make them disappear. It’s not a time to cry, it’s not about me or about how much it hurts to be next to him after he left me. It’s not about me. It’s about him.
“What are you doing here?” he asks me, his voice raspy as if he hasn’t spoken in hours.
He doesn’t look at me. His eyes are fixed on the scripts on the stone in front of him. His face is pale, even with his naturally tanned complexion. His eyes are hollow, and the dark rings tell me he probably didn’t sleep much all week.
I read the scripts on the tomb and the lump in my throat feels worse. Underground, there’s someone many people loved. Right here, there’s someone whose death ruined many lives. Just in a blink of an eye.
Juliet Trenton
March 4th 1991 - April 17th 2009
We will always love you, miss you, and think about you.
“I wanted to see how you are,” I say in a broken voice that makes me blush. I shouldn’t lose it like that. It’s not helping.
“Or you want to gloat at seeing that in fact I’m more messed up than I told you?” He sounds so harsh. I shake my head and hold my ground. He’s doing exactly what I did with him. He’s trying to drive me away because he’s too broken to face or interact with anybody, but he seems to forget who he’s talking to. I’m not a student easily thrown off.
“Don’t worry; I’m not here to compare scores.” I look away from the tomb and glance at the view of Seattle. “Kate told me you didn’t seem to be feeling so well, and I knew where you’d be so ...”
“So you thought coming here was a good idea?” He laughs harshly, the muscles in his square jaw contracting and relaxing. “Leave me alone, Skye.”
Maybe I should leave but I don’t. It’s probably not the best way to help him, nor am I the best person to help him since I can’t even overlook my own past, but I can’t turn away and let him drown in his sorrow. It’s hard to witness and it’s killing me inside. It hurts to see him hurt like that. He doesn’t look like the Duke I met just weeks ago, the annoying TA who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Now it’s my turn to not take no for an answer.
“Come and grab a coffee with me.”
He finally looks at me and his eyes freeze me. If I hadn’t have been prepared, I would have taken a couple of steps away from him. He’s angry and ready to snap but I don’t show how much he’s frightening me. I can play at this game. I was able to hide from Sean how much I hurt or was afraid when he beat me, so it’s not Duke’s dark eyes that’ll drive me away. Moreover, even if I’m afraid, I know he won’t hit me. He’s not that kind of guy.
“Because you think I want to have some coffee with you?” he sneers, looking me up and down with a disgusted expression on his face. I shudder. “You have nothing to do here. Leave. Me. The. Hell. Alone.”
Swallowing is difficult all of a sudden. He’s not the guy I met. He’s consumed by his pain and his anger. His face—which is usually handsome—is only made of hard lines and hollow planes in this cemetery. The tomb of his girlfriend is weighing much more between us than I thought it would. After all, I know nothing about losing someone you love because of death. I don’t know how she died.
“You didn’t give up when I tried to drive you away,” I reply in a hushed voice, aware that we’re not alone here even if nobody is listening or close enough to hear what we’re saying. But having this kind of talk in the open and not behind four walls is unsettling and makes me quite uneasy.
“A waste of my time.”
I gulp loudly. A punch in my stomach wouldn’t be less painful. A waste of his time. A waste. I’m a waste of everybody’s time. After all, I’m a nobody, someone who is nothing to anyone except for my parents. Sean’s mean words come back in my head. Idiot. Dependent. Whore. Ridiculous. Ugly. Boring. A nobody. Nobody wants you. Nobody would miss you. Not sexy.
Tears are welling up in my eyes, making my vision blur. Duke’s face disappears behind my tears and it’s for the best. The whole world is disappearing behind my tears. I turn around, not saying a word, and walk away, letting my tears fall on my cold cheeks. I’m so freezing that I don’t even feel them fall. Not seeing where I’m walking, I almost trip on a tombstone. I put both hands on the icy marble and a sob escapes me. Shaking my head, I dry my eyes, bite the inside of my right cheek and frown. Not now. I have to go back to my dorm. I have homework to do. Homework, classes, and that’s all. That’s what I really need.
* * *
Back in my Psychology class after a weekend that I hope to never live again. After I come back from the cemetery, I launch myself in to my homework to just forget everything else around me, barely speaking to Kate. I’m pretty sure my swollen and red eyes spoke volumes about what happened with Duke. She didn’t pressure me or anything and let me deal with it in my own way, which meant that I closed up once again.
I’m invisible amongst the other students in the room which is already full. The TAs are talking next to the teacher’s desk. Despite my better judgment, my eyes look for Duke. He’s with the other TAs but he’s not participating in the conversation. He’s looking at the students, his dark eyes roaming from the top of the room and slowly making their way to the bottom. In my gut I know he’s searching for me.
I frown and busy myself on my laptop, reading my notes for the fifth time from the last Psychology class. I almost know this lecture word for word, but it’s better than dwelling on Duke after what happened. The only time, since I don’t even remember when, I want to help someone because I care, but I was kicked to the curb. It’s enough for me. I’m not a masochist and I don’t want to be hurt by someone again. He needs to pull his shit together, but I won’t be here to assist him.
Dr. Dills walks in the room, barely watching where he’s walking. His eyes are glued to his trendy phone, typing an email or a text. Then he exchanges a few words with his TAs and gives them a pile of sheets. It’s our first essay of the second semester. Oh God.
I clench my hands on my lap, my breathing going crazy. My palms are sweaty as the TAs begin to give the papers to the students. Some are satisfied by their grade, others are defeated and me I’m completely freaking out. I need a good grade. It’s not that my GPA is suffering or anything, not at all, but Psychology is my thing. I want it to be my thing.
I’m so focused on the other TAs calling out names, careful to not miss mine, that I don’t even realize that someone is standing next to me.
“Well done.”
I jump in my seat, bumping into the girl next to me who glares at me. I want to roll my eyes at her; it’s not like I hurt her or anything. I look up and see Duke with my paper in his big hand. On the paper a little A is visible in red. I exhale, feeling all the tension in my body leaving at once, leaving me exhausted and spent.
With the tips of my thin fingers, I take the paper and put it on the keyboard of my laptop, not spending a second more of my attention on Duke. He humphs and resumes his task, walking away.
I almost snort. If he thought I’d be at his feet or that I’d acknowledge him, he’s highly mistaken. He ruined the little bit of myself I was about to get back and that’s all I can think about now. It’s not because he’s in pain that he can say those kind of things when he knows how it’d hurt me and even crush me. But it’s also my fault; I gave him the power to hurt me.
As soon as the lecture is over, Dr. Dills packs up his things and almost runs from the classroom. Maybe he’s got a meeting or something, but it’s weird to watch a very composed and serious man like him in such a frenzy to leave. I shake my head and turn off my MacBook. I glance again at my paper and smile to myself. My work is paying off and it’s the most satisfying thing in my life right now.
I stand up, wrapping myself in my scarf and leather jacket. With a sigh and a frown at the noise of the conversations of the other students who are too animated for me, I walk toward the exit.
Someone grabs my shoulder. I whimper and jump away, my heart beating in my che
st so fast it is hurting me. I can’t breathe and dark spots appear in my vision.
“It’s me, calm down,” Duke says in a soothing tone that really irritates me.
With gritted teeth I face him, arms crossed over my chest, eyes boring a hole in his face. The rings under his eyes give away how tired he is, but I don’t even care if he can’t sleep. “Don’t touch me.”
He nods and holds up his hands in a surrender gesture that helps me to calm down enough that my heartbeats are back to a half normal rhythm. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”
I glance at the flow of students leaving the room. For once, I want to be in a crowd. “What do you want?”
He fishes his cigarettes from his jacket pocket and plays with one between his long fingers. It’s easier for me to look at his fingers than at his expressive eyes that make my insides do funny things.
“I read your paper. It’s really good.”
I snort and shake my head. Unbelievable. He wants to talk about my paper. “Listen, go talk Psychology with someone else. Class is over and I’ve got things to do.” The last part is a lie, but he doesn’t have to know this.
“Like what? Homework?”
“Leave me alone, Duke,” I reply, my eyes locking with his. I groan in my mind. I know this light in his eyes. He’s stubborn.
“I want to apologize for my behavior Saturday,” he says. His sincerity embraces me, but not enough for me to forget the hurt of his words and how it awakened things I am trying so hard to keep in the past.
“It doesn’t matter.”
He steps closer to me, a hand almost touching my forearm but I jump away, my breath catching again in my throat. I can’t let him touch me. Not again. My guard is back up and much stronger than ever. I’ve learned from my mistake.
“It matters,” he says in a pleading tone that I don’t recognize in his deep voice. He curses under his breath and tugs at his wild black hair. “When I shut my eyes, I see your face so openly hurt because of me and it’s killing me.”
I close my eyes for a few seconds, reining in my fear and pain. I don’t understand why he can still get to me even now; yet, here he is, making me weak for some reason.
“I don’t care, Duke.” I push away some of my frizzy hair and sigh. Tugging on my long sleeves nervously, my fingers tense. “I can’t do this.”
“What? What can’t you do?” he asks me. The hand in his hair freezes, and the cigarette in the other falls on the ground without him even noticing.
“This! This thing with you!” I adjust my backpack on my shoulder and glance to the exit, but his huge body is blocking my departure.
“Forgive me, Skye. I can explain—”
“Stop!” I cut him off angrily. “I don’t want to hear anything more. It’s not about forgiveness; it’s about me looking out for me. I don’t want to be hurt again, Duke, and that’s all. Go back to your life and forget about me.”
He tugs again on his hair and runs the same hand down over his goatee. “You don’t even want to listen to me?”
“No.” I take a good look at him, my heart hollow from the exhaustion visible on his face to his hunched shoulders that are usually so straight and strong. “Good-bye, Duke.”
I sidestep him and walk away, not turning back to him. It hurts to leave, but it’s for the best. I don’t need him in my life and he certainly doesn’t need me in his. After all, I’m nothing and I can’t bring any value to his life. I couldn’t even reach him in the cemetery when he needed to share his pain and confide in someone. It’s for the best.
Chapter Six
“Why not? A coffee sounds good to me,” Kate says with a sweet little laugh that draws the guy’s eyes to her ruby lips, shining under the artificial lights of the underground laundry room, and the little freckle at the corner of her mouth that seems to drive them all crazy.
“Let’s meet up in ten minutes?” His crooked smile is not something I’d trust, but it seems to work on Kate who agrees enthusiastically as the guy leaves the room with his freshly cleaned clothes.
For the last ten minutes I was invisible and it’s relaxing. When Kate and this guy began to talk and flirt a little, I fell silent and focused on my mountain of dirty clothes. I had to make two trips to bring it all downstairs to the laundry. I still don’t understand why I always wait until I don’t even have any clean socks before doing my laundry. I hate this domestic task, but if I did it more often, it wouldn’t be such a hardship.
As Kate grabs the last of her clean clothes and puts them in her basket, her moves are lighter. She’s such a flirt. I shake my head and enjoy the calm. Nobody is here beside us, and in a couple of minutes I’ll have the place for myself to do my second round of laundry.
“Will you be okay staying here alone?” Kate asks, suddenly unsure of herself.
I roll my eyes and wave her away. “I don’t need a babysitter, Kate,” I reply in a clipped voice, the same voice I have had since my confrontation with Duke three days ago. Once again, I want to put some distance between us. Even if I can see the hurt in her green eyes, I don’t want to put myself in the position where she can hurt me whether she means to or not.
She nods and leaves without a word. I think she’s letting me go. It’s for the best. A girl like her with her bubbly personality should have friends that are not wallowing in their own issues. I can’t be the friend she needs or wants, and that’s a fact.
While my second round of laundry is in the machine, I fold my clean clothes and laugh bitterly at them. Boring black and white cotton underwear, jeans that are from my first year in high school and of course, my oversized sweaters. I roll up the sleeves of the black sweater I’m wearing. I remember exactly when I bought it. It was after the first time Sean beat me. I wanted something comfortable, something not form fitting, something in which I could disappear completely.
“Finally alone?”
I jerk and turn around fast. My hands clench immediately. It’s a nightmare. I’m alone, here, with him! Why did I let Kate go? What is he doing here? Oh my God! The muscle in his jaw is jumping.
“What are you doing here?” I ask in a calm voice that doesn’t reflect at all how I’m feeling right now. My heart is beating so fast that it’s painful to just breathe. A gigantic lump forms in my throat and my eyes sting, but I won’t cry … no matter what. Tears make him worse.
“You’re not happy to see me?” he asks me and snickers as he strides toward me. His blue eyes are so cold that it sends a chill down my spine.
I don’t move. I stay put, knowing perfectly well where this is going to go. It’ll always be the same, even now that he’s moved on. “I don’t see why you’re here, that’s all.”
He’s towering over me, just a few inches from me. I can feel his breath against my face, smell the faint scent of beer on his breath. He’s not drunk, though. I can see each and every hair of his sandy beard from the day. I can even see the little freckles of silver in his eyes that used to drive me crazy when I first met him.
“You’re afraid because your pet is not here to protect you?” he whispers in my ear, his voice creepy. He’s enjoying my fear and he’s basking in the power he has over me. It’s crazy; he’s crazy. And I’m crazier to just stay put like this without a word, without even trying to leave the laundry room. Once again I’m just letting him run the show.
And this thought makes me angry. I’m not about to just keep my mouth shut and be the fragile Skye so enamored that she didn’t do or say anything to this abusive guy. I lock my eyes with his, my chin up. “It’s none of your business, Sean.”
Without even seeing it coming, he slaps me hard. I turn my head, my frizzy hair hiding me from his view, from the angry mask on his face that could look so soft and sweet otherwise. How looks can be deceiving.
My cheek is hot from the pain, stinging enough to bring tears in my eyes. None of them fall; instead I bite the inside of my lower lip. My whole body tenses like it used to. I switch off my emotions and wait. I know this physical pain; I know
this feeling of shutting down. It’s always the same, even after all these months.
He grabs my shoulders, his fingers clench on them. I’ll probably have bruises there tomorrow. He shakes me and pushes me violently against the wall behind me. The force of the impact vibrates in to my lungs. My left hip is killing me, but I don’t make a sound. My eyes are glued to the concrete ground. I don’t even look at his shoes.
“You think you can defy me? You think you’re better than me? You think that you’re so smart? Let me refresh your memory.”
Suddenly he punches my arms, my stomach, kicks my legs, and when I’m on the ground—gasping from the pain, my arms crossed over my chest—he laughs. And just like that he leaves the laundry room. His steps sound brisk and he’s even whistling. Yeah, I remember perfectly well how much my body can hurt. I remember where I’ve come from and where I’m still stuck.
Patch Up Page 8
