Breaking All the Rules

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Breaking All the Rules Page 7

by Kristen Flowers


  That’s when I noticed the small duffel bag he was holding tightly in his hand.

  “Johnny, what’s… What happened?” I whispered, stealing glances up the stairs every other second.

  My heart was racing with fear, but I couldn’t just slam the door in his face, especially not when he looked like that. It was too dark to make out, but I was certain I saw bruises on his face. He gulped and looked down at his feet.

  “I, uh,” he choked out.

  I had never heard him like that before. It took every ounce of strength and self-control I had not to reach out and wrap my arms around him. I wanted to cradle his face between my hands and kiss him. I wanted to hear him out and do everything and anything to help him. But pushing down all those desires was the fear of the very real possibility that my parents would walk out at any second, see him, and completely lose their minds.

  “What happened, Johnny? It’s late and you have a… a…” I gulped and turned to look inside my house as I blinked tears away.

  “I know your parents, they don’t, well, like me much but I… Jenny, I have nowhere else to go. I have nowhere to go so I- I came h-here.”

  “What? What happened? What do you mean?”

  My head was spinning. I looked over at the staircase one last time before stepping onto the porch in front of him and closing the front door behind me, very slowly and very quietly I She reached out to place my hand on his chest, but he tensed the moment I reached out. I quickly pulled my hand back. I felt hurt, but tried to remind myself that it wasn’t personal.

  “I got kicked out. I, uh, got kicked out and I- I don’t have any- anywhere to turn so I know your parents, they, don’t- don’t like me but maybe they’ll, uh, I- I don’t know… M-Make an exception or something? Maybe they can help me because I don’t have anywhere to go other than the street. I just need to st- stay here a couple of weeks. I’ll figure things out and get on my feet and leave. It’s just, for now, I don’t have…”

  My heart broke hearing him struggling to keep in all the pain, frustration, and worry he was feeling. I hated that his only options were my closed-minded parents or be homeless. I gulped and placed my hand on my chest, trying to take in deep breaths. Still, no matter how scary it was to me, I had to go ask them– even if I knew, deep down, what the answer would be.

  “I’ll talk to them,” I blurted out before reaching forward and pulling him close to me.

  I gingerly placed my hands on his neck and pressed my lips to his. I shut my eyes. There was a nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Johnny, what happened?”

  “My father, that son of a-”

  “I know,” I whispered against the side of his neck, “I know.”

  I pressed my lips to his again and this time he was a bit more responsive. We shared a soft, kiss under the moonlight. We were both frightened and terrified, but it was a kiss that neither of us would ever forget.

  “But what happ-”

  “I couldn’t just stand by and watch him hurt my mom. I couldn’t do it.”

  “Oh, my go-”

  “So, I stepped up. I was just trying to pull him off her, but he was too far gone. That rage, it ate him up. So, he shoved me against the wall. I heard it crack and felt the pain in every bone of my body. But I knew, I just knew, that if I let him win right then and there my mom would get it worse. I don’t know how I did it, but I pushed him back and before I knew it, we were punching each other. We kicked each other and shoved each other and the next thing I knew… I’m out on the street.”

  “What? He kicked you out just like that?”

  Johnny fought back tears, “No She kicked me out. We stopped fighting for a second and I looked over at her. There was so much anger in her eyes. Not anger toward him, but toward me. She kicked me out even though I was trying to defend her.”

  I clenched my eyes shut as tears slid down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe how horrible his parents were. As overbearing and prejudiced as mine were, at least I had them. At least my parents cared in some way. Yet, here was Johnny, a kid in high school who had nowhere to go. He’d been kicked out of the house and it wasn’t even because he did anything bad. He mustered up the courage to stand up for his mom and all for what? She repaid him by putting her own son out on the streets. I wondered if either of his parents felt even an ounce of remorse.

  “Let me go ask my parents, Johnny. Let me tell them what happened. This- this isn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

  Johnny didn’t respond. I looked at him and pressed my lips to his cheek. He winced, and I knew that I hadn’t been imagining the bruise and blood. I turned around and went inside. It was time for me to gather my own courage. I rested my back against the door and thought of him standing on the other side. I thought of the sound of his voice and the way it felt to hear his story. I opened my eyes and looked straight up the staircase. I needed to march into my parents’ bedroom with confidence and respect.

  Maybe if I explained Johnny’s situation they could find some compassion in their hearts and let him stay. As I walked up the stairs, the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach grew stronger with each step. Deep down, I knew that no amount of compassion would move my parents to support Johnny. They had already wanted him out of my life and this would just reignite that horrible argument we already had, but I couldn’t just turn him away. I had to at least try.

  I took a deep breath before knocking on their bedroom door.

  Almost immediately, my father swung it open and looked at me with suspicion. I felt my stomach wrench and the sick feeling got worse.

  “Father, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you and mother.”

  “Why the both of us? Is it not enough to speak to me?”

  My eyes quickly fell to the floor as I tried to steady my rapid breathing. I felt like I was fighting a losing battle with my own body to keep my insides where they belonged. I nodded and decided to just speak with him first. If he decided to consult my mother, then so be it.

  “A friend of mine is in trouble. I know it is a lot to ask, but I humbly come to you and ask for compassion.”

  “Who is this friend?”

  I paused for a long second before mustering up the courage to speak, “J- Johnny.”

  “No!” He screamed, cutting his hand across the air.

  At once, my mother appeared behind him. I saw fury and disappointment in her eyes. I wanted to run away from them and hide. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg forgiveness for even bringing Johnny up, especially because they had expressly told me to stop seeing him. But I couldn’t do either of those things. I couldn’t give up so easily, not when the only other option Johnny had was… nothing.

  He really had nothing.

  Deep down I knew he would have never come to me for help, to my parents, if he didn’t truly need it.

  “I am so sorry, father, but he has nowhere to go. I do not want to leave him on the streets. His father-”

  “I am sure if he has nowhere to go it is nobody’s fault but his own,” my mother said with a sneer.

  I felt my entire body tense up. I knew there was no point in trying to get them to feel an ounce of compassion for anybody; let alone Johnny. Once they made up their mind, that was pretty much it.

  “Jenny,” my father said sternly, “If that young man is out there, I forbid you from letting him in. And I absolutely forbid you from ever speaking to him again. Do you understand?”

  “But, father-”

  My mother gasped, “You dare to go against your father’s word? Jenny, look around you. Think about your life. That is all thanks to your father’s hard work and now this… This is how you repay him? What have I done? What have I done?”

  I saw her lower lip tremble as she feigned silent tears. I knew the routine well, but I was rarely on the receiving end of it. Still, it was highly effective. I could have thrown up my heart right then and there. I looked down in shame and shook my head. With tears streaming down my face, I slowl
y walked back down the stairs. Even though I couldn’t see my parents, I knew they were listening closely. They had to make sure I turned away the first and only love of my life when he needed me the most. If I disobeyed my father, it would be too high of an offense to be forgiven.

  I couldn’t do it. As much as it broke my heart, I had to do what my parents expected and demanded of me.

  I wiped the tears from my face and took in a deep breath. I tried my best to harden my expression. If Johnny was going to buy this and leave me alone, I had to be convincing about the whole thing. My hand shook violently as I reached out for the doorknob. I knew what I would see on the other side of the door as soon as I opened it, but I also knew I couldn’t let it break me. Still, I turned the knob and slowly opened the door to catch a few final, small glimpses of Johnny before I had to turn him away and end things for good.

  “You can’t stay, Johnny,” the words came choking out, “And you shouldn’t… you can’t come around here anymore. Or me. This is done. This is over. I can’t see you anymore.”

  Johnny gave me a look of confusion and pain. As if his night hadn’t been bad enough, my words cut him like a knife. But he said nothing as he picked up his duffel bag from the ground and walked off in to the night, without a single glance back at me.

  Until the day he walked into my office, that was the last time I saw him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jenny

  The room was silent except for the sound of Johnny rhythmically tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. I had asked him how his day was, and he responded. He looked at my chest and my hips, but he wasn’t being nearly as forward and crude as he usually was. I wondered what was going on. I pulled his file closer to me and looked over the last notes I had written down. There wasn’t much in my notes, but that wasn’t entirely because he was a closed book. I didn’t pay proper attention to him during our previous session.

  I straightened up, determined to remain completely professional. I shut my eyes for a moment and when I opened them to look at him. I hardened myself.

  “Johnny, let’s try something different today,” I said quietly.

  His devious grin turned up again, “Oh, yeah? What’d you have in mind?”

  I was careful to sidestep his suggestive tone. I rested my chin on my hands and stared him straight in the eyes. For a second, I could tell he was taken aback, not only by my lack of response, but by my casualness. That was exactly what I was going for.

  “Ask me a question,” I told him.

  “About what?”

  “Anything. Think of this as a free pass. Ask me any question you want.”

  I knew this was a dangerous exercise, but a part of me felt it was key to getting him to open up. If I displayed some sort of vulnerability, then maybe he would open up to me little by little. This time, I didn’t want to make him feel like he was being analyzed. He looked at me suspiciously, but I didn’t waver. I maintained my composure and stared at him, waiting.

  “Really? I can ask you anything?”

  “Absolutely anything. Just remember, this question is your free pass.”

  “So, you’re telling me to choose wisely,” he said flatly.

  “I want you to draw your own conclusions this time, Johnny, so I will not tell you if that is what I am saying or not. I am just going to repeat that you can ask me anything.”

  “Literally anything?”

  “Yes,” I told him, making sure my voice didn’t quiver.

  There was any number of inappropriate questions he could ask me. It would be uncomfortable, sure, but I could handle it. What I was most nervous about was him asking me a question about the past– our past. That wouldn’t be so easy to navigate. Still, I was willing to brave those murky waters if it meant he would finally give therapy a real chance.

  He sat back and crossed his arms as he studied me carefully. His eyes wandered down to my chest like they always did, but I noticed his gaze didn’t linger for as long as it always did. He looked around the office as much as he could without moving his head. He was thinking. He was actually giving this some thought. He looked back at me and then down at his file sitting on the desk in front of me. That was when his eyes seemed to light up in an interesting way.

  “I have my question,” he said quietly.

  “Okay. Now you just need to actually ask me,” I responded with an encouraging smile.

  “Why weren’t you paying attention to me last week?”

  I felt like the wind was knocked out of me. Of all the things that crossed my mind, this was definitely not one of them. I didn’t even know he had noticed how lost I was last week. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My mind raced to come up with an appropriate answer. Still, from the look on his face, I could tell I did a poor job of masking my shock. I placed a hand flat on my stomach and took a deep breath.

  “I apologize,” I said quietly.

  “That’s not an answer to my question.”

  “You are absolutely correct. That is not an answer, but I still mean it. I apologize for not being fully professional last week. I should have-”

  “So, you weren’t professional with me, huh? Why not?”

  “I gave you a free pass on one question, Johnny.”

  “Fine. You still haven’t answered it.”

  “I had a lot on my mind and I did a poor job of sorting out my thoughts. I didn’t do what I am supposed to do, which is focus on what you are saying. The reason I was not paying as much attention as I should have, was that I let my disorganized thoughts get the best of me.”

  I technically wasn’t lying. I had been unable to keep my thoughts in check. However, the bigger problem was what I had been thinking about. I took the greatest issue with the lack of professionalism at every level. It wasn’t just that I hadn’t been paying attention during our session; it was that I was fighting inappropriate thoughts and feelings because of him. All of that was wrong on multiple levels and I was determined to make up for it. For a while, I had the feeling that he wouldn’t be satisfied with my answer until his facial expression relaxed and something seemed to dawn in his eyes.

  “So even you have trouble doing what you need to sometimes,” he finally whispered.

  “Yes, Johnny, that is something that happens to everyone.”

  “I never would’ve thought it happened to you. And I mean never,” he said.

  I knew he was referring to our past, but I pushed beyond it as best as I could, “And why is that?”

  “You’re always so tense and formal and just… You don’t seem like the type, is all.”

  “The type to what, Johnny?”

  “I don’t know. Get lost.”

  “You don’t think I’ve ever felt or been lost?”

  “Not really. No.”

  “And do you feel lost often?”

  Johnny glanced at me and then averted his eyes without a giving me a response. He started fidgeting with a small hole near the knee of his jeans. I had to resist the urge to scribble something in his file. We were finally getting somewhere. It felt like a huge triumph that I had coaxed even this much out of him. I wanted to find out more and get to the core of things, but I knew being pushy wasn’t the right way to go. Things had to progress as naturally as possible and Johnny needed a little extra coaxing in a way that I didn’t usually have to practice with my other clients.

  “Johnny?”

  He just shrugged. I knew I wouldn’t get a straight answer from him.

  “You said ‘even you’… Even I get lost in my thoughts. Even I give in. When was the last time you did, Johnny?”

  “Yesterday,” he admitted.

  He looked at me in poorly masked surprise. Maybe he hadn’t expected an answer to come so quickly and so easily, but it was out there. He groaned and looked away.

  “What happened yesterday, Johnny?”

  “I walked by a shop and I…”

  “Did you do something?”

  “I wanted to.”

 
; “But you did not?”

  “No,” he reluctantly admitted, still not making eye contact.

  “It seems you managed to keep your thoughts in check. That is a good thing.”

  “Well, I kept those but…” his voice trailed off as he looked at me.

 

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