Home is Where You Are

by Marie, Tessa

  “Katie.” I shake her arm trying to wake her.

  “Anna.” She lifts her head, her hair a, matted mess stuck to her forehead. Her eyes, smeared with black eyeliner and mascara, blink like she's unable to keep her eyes open longer than a few seconds. “Come on, we’re going home.” I bend down, placing her arm around my shoulder. Slowly, I stand. All her weight is on me and as thin as she is, she feels like she weighs four hundred pounds.

  We get into the hallway, and by some miracle I maneuver Katie around the passed-out girl. I see Dean across the apartment, his back to us, a guy talking to him. I can’t see their mouths, so I don’t know what they’re saying.

  “Katie, baby, where you going?” The blond guy, who I thought was passed out on the couch, stands and starts walking towards us. Looks like I’m finally going to meet Paul.

  “She’s leaving,” I say, ignoring his advances until he stumbles in front of us and blocks our path.

  “Not so fast,” he slurs, putting the hand not holding a beer can up at us. “Katie you don’t want to go, do you?” He moves closer and lifts Katie’s head to look at him. “You don’t, do you?” He takes Katie’s arm off me and pulls her into him.

  Katie’s head sways down, but she manages to hold it back up. “Baby, I’m tired I’m just going to go home and take a nap. I’ll be back.”

  Not if I have anything to say about it. Katie tries to free herself from Paul’s grip when he tightens his hold on her.

  “She said she’ll come back. Just let her go.” I slide my arm around Katie’s waist, and he yanks Katie and pushes me. Hard.

  I trip over a girl and fall flat on my ass. My head smacks the wall behind me and a burning, throbbing pain spreads through my skull. Katie squirms in Paul’s arms. The room spins, and I try to focus. I look to the doorway and notice Dean’s no longer there. I blink and try to push myself up from the floor when I see Dean with his hand wrapped around Paul’s neck.

  Paul’s eyes widen, but Dean doesn’t loosen his grip. When Paul finally let’s go of Katie, Dean slams him against the wall. I find the strength to run to Katie’s side and throw my arm around her.

  “If you ever touch her again, I will kill you,” Dean says through clenched teeth. He slams Paul against the wall one more time, his attention focused in a way that keeps Paul from fighting back. When out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees me and Katie moving towards the door, he releases his grip from Paul’s neck. After a warning glare, he comes to my side.

  Paul pushes himself off the wall and yells as we walk out the door. His words are slurred and all I can make out is, “Yo fuck you. You don’t know who you’re messing with.” Fear freezes me in place, and Katie sways to my side. Dean takes Katie’s arm from my shoulder and wraps it around his. Then rests his hand on my lower back and urges me to the door.

  Dean doesn’t look back. It doesn’t even seem to faze him.

  Because when you have nothing to lose, what is there to be scared of?

  I snapped. Seeing Anna on the floor with complete terror in her eyes provoked something deep within me. Something I haven’t felt in a very long time. Something I lost the day I lost my family.

  I felt the desire to protect.

  All the color in my knuckles drains from my death hold on the steering wheel. Anna brushes back Katie’s hair with her fingers while Katie rests on her lap. My grip loosens as I watch her in the rearview mirror. Katie’s lucky to have her. I wonder if she knows that. I’ve never had a friend who would drop everything to pick me up and take me away from a shitty situation. Then again I’ve never really had a friend.

  Anna rests her forehead in her free hand. She glances up, and I catch her eyes in the rearview, red around the rim, barely able to keep them open. A halfhearted smile forms on her face. The terror from earlier replaced with relief and exhaustion.

  I’m stunned at how badly I want to tuck her against my chest and erase it all with my lips. Let her sleep off her exhaustion safely in my arms while I watch her. Protect her.

  Anna’s driveway appears on the left, and I pull the car in slowly. She told me about the old man stalker next door. I don’t think her mom would be too pleased to know Anna came home with a guy again… and a girl who could barely hold herself up.

  I cut the engine and turn in the seat. Anna tries to wake Katie up, but the girl is completely passed out. I’d be worried if she wasn’t mumbling incoherently in her sleep.

  I walk to the passenger door and lean in. I position my arms around Katie’s waist and under her legs and ease her towards me.

  Anna gets out of the car, and I throw her the keys. The quicker we get in, the less of a chance Anna has of getting caught by the old man.

  “Where do you want me to put her?” I ask once inside.

  “My bedroom. Upstairs left-hand side.”

  I know which room it is. The last time here I noticed it. It was hard to miss the pink room and ballerina slippers. Anna doesn’t seem like the type that likes ballet. It’s more than just the ballerina slippers though, it’s a little juvenile and Anna is anything but.

  Katie is dead weight in my arms. She’s still mumbling. I ignore her and continue up the stairs. I set Katie securely in the bed and place a blanket over her. Damn, she’s going to feel like hell in the morning.

  I look around the room, pretending to look for a trash can in case Katie needs to upchuck, but really… I’m trying to figure out Anna. She’s more of an open book than I am, but still parts of her are closed off. She’s a puzzle, and I like putting the pieces together.

  My eyes scan across the perfume bottles on her dresser until they rest on a framed photo with the word Family in silver metal in the top center. Anna’s in a white frilly dress. She must be seven or eight. Her hair is wild like she ran laps around the pond in the background before she posed for the shot. She’s hugging the leg of the man, who I would imagine is her father, beside him must be her mom and brother. I feel like I am invading her privacy. So I step away from the picture, grab the trash can from the corner of the room and put it by Katie’s head, and then slowly close the door behind me. I take my time walking down the stairs, not wanting to seem overeager to get back to Anna.

  I find her on the couch, a steaming mug in her hand and one on the coffee table. She looks like she wants to crawl into a ball and make the whole night disappear.

  “Is she okay?” she asks, looking up from her mug.

  “She’ll feel like absolute shit in the morning, but she’ll be fine.” I sit beside her on the couch resisting the urge to take the mug out of her hand and feel her skin pressed against mine.

  She nods toward the other mug on the table. “I got you coffee. Milk and two sugars, right?”

  She remembered. “Right.” I take a sip and put it back down. “I’m curious. Why are you friends with her anyway? I mean, I’m not one to judge, but you guys are total opposites.” I’ve been trying to figure this out from the moment Anna told me about Katie.

  “We actually started out hating each other.” She bites her lip and lets out a stifled laugh.

  “Now that makes more sense. What changed?”

  “Back in eighth grade she needed a tutor and knew I was the best, so against her own will she came to me for help. I agreed because, well, let’s face it, that’s what I do. We used to get into these stupid bickering fights. A lot. One day we really threw-down. She was screaming at me. I was screaming at her. She called me a loser with no life, and I called her a whore with no class.”

  “This sounds like the perfect basis for a friendship.” After a very faint look of death from her, I say, “Sorry, please continue.”

  “Then she asked me why I am the way that I am, and I broke down. The tears poured out so fast I had no way of hiding them. All of a sudden, I started telling her everything. I never told anybody my life story before, not even my shrink and for some reason this girl I despised so much was the one person I was able to confide in. She pulled me into a hug and told me she didn’t mean to call me
a loser, and she was just jealous.

  “It’s funny because I was always jealous of how guys always seemed to be around her and how she had so many friends. I never thought in a million years she’d be jealous of me. So after that she kind of just stuck around, and we’ve been best friends ever since. She’s still the only person I can go to. The only person I trust.”

  “I have trust issues, too.”

  “With you it’s understandable.”

  She doesn’t know even a quarter of my story. Why is it understandable for me to have trust issues and not her? I need to know what happened to her. What made Katie finally see past the smart girl façade?

  “What about you then? What happened?”

  I’ve never wanted to talk about it with anyone else, but sitting here looking into Dean’s eyes, I want him to really know me. To understand me. I put my green tea on the table and cross my legs. The softness in his face makes the words fall out.

  “My dad died when I was in the fifth grade. He was a cop. Killed in the line of duty. It was a routine traffic stop, or it was supposed to be. The guy he pulled over for a broken taillight turned out to be a convict on the run. My mom buried herself in work. It started with her taking off for a day or two, but then it was weeks at a time. My brother resented her for it, spent most of his time with his friends, and as soon as he turned eighteen he took off too. The day my dad died I felt like I lost my entire family.”

  I swipe at the tears streaming down my cheeks. “I never felt so lonely. So I’d pretend my dad was still alive and he was just working a lot of overnight shifts. I pretended for so long, I actually started to believe it. It took almost a year for mom to notice me still setting a plate aside for Dad for dinner. She made me go to a shrink. Not that I could blame her, though, she really should’ve gone to see one herself.

  “Slowly, I started to accept he was gone. I held onto the memories though. He always talked about me going to an Ivy League school. He would say there was nobody smarter than me and I would make him proud one day. So, I decided to focus my attention on that. Once I get the acceptance letters, I’ll know I made him proud.”

  The tears stream faster, harder, and I choke on the rest of my words. This is why I don’t talk about it. It hurts too much.

  Dean lays his hand on my knee and the warmth in his touch gives me the strength to dissolve the tears.

  “I just want to make him proud.”

  Dean rubs soft soothing circles with his thumb above my knee. “Don’t you think he’d want you to do what makes you happy? What is it you want?”

  Nobody’s ever asked me that before. I’ve never even asked myself that before. “I don’t know. I’ve never wanted anything other than that.”

  “I don’t think you ever gave yourself the chance to want anything else.”

  All the time I’ve spent trying to get a perfect score. All the time wasted overanalyzing every situation. All the times I turned Katie down. I always wondered what it was like to be carefree, and maybe deep down, that is what I really want.

  “Did you want to take a shower?” I ask Dean, hoping he’ll accept, and I’ll have some time to myself. “Then after, you can tell me where you learned to drive.” I want him to know I want him to stay. I just need a minute.

  “You want to join me, Preppy?” His eyebrows rise, causing his forehead to wrinkle. I know it’s a joke but a small part of me wishes he was serious. Now I don’t want a minute alone. I want to be with him.

  “What if I said yes?” I say, closing the gap between us. I brush my hands through his hair then trail my finger down his jaw line. I drag my finger across his mouth wanting so badly to put my lips in its place.

  “Are you calling my bluff?” he asks then kisses my finger.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I know for a fact you would never.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because a girl with ballerina slippers on her walls…” He runs his hand down my arm. “Is not the type of girl that would be getting into a shower with a guy. A homeless guy for that matter.”

  “I don’t see you as the homeless guy.”

  “And I don’t see you as just some girl, which is why I’m going to go upstairs and shower. Alone.” He kisses me softly and then pulls away. “However, that doesn’t mean I won’t be thinking about you.” I know I’m blushing, not just by the rush of blood to my cheeks, but by the smirk on Dean’s face.

  Not having a snarky comment to come back with I blurt out, “The towels are in the linen closet in the hallway. I’ll shower when you’re done.” His smirk stays put the entire walk up the stairs.

  I lean my head back on the couch. A piercing pain shoots out in all directions, and I remember my not so graceful tumble back at Paul’s. I smacked my head pretty hard. I’m not really good with bumps and cuts and blood, so I reach around gently to the back of my head. Just as I suspected, an egg size lump. At my touch, it pulsates.

  Mom has a stash of pain meds in the kitchen cabinet. Not that I want anything too strong, but she also stores the Advil there. Two should do the trick.

  I wrap an ice pack in a towel before pressing it to the back of my head. When I hear the water turn on, I head for the stairs to check on Katie. Make sure she’s not choking on her own vomit.

  She’s mumbling. It’s like she’s half asleep, half awake, existing within the two worlds and having her own party.

  My house becomes a rehab center for her on the days when Mom is away. She parties, gets trashed, and then I help her recover. It’s a vicious cycle. One where I see no end.

  Katie’s feet stick out from underneath the blanket. Dean must have put it on her. Too bad when she’s like this, she tosses and turns. I slide her ridiculously high shoes off, pull her hair out of her face, securing it with a ponytail holder and take her layers of necklaces off. The last thing I need is for her to choke herself with one of them in her sleep.

  Once Katie is free of all potential harm, I try to decide on pajamas. I don’t own anything sexy so I’m going to have to go for cute. I pull out a pair of my favorite purple pajama pants adorned with colorful, playful owls that I got for Christmas from Barney and Stan last year. It has a matching button-up top, but it has the potential to make me look like a five-year-old. I grab a fitted tank top to wear. I’ll wear the matching top but leave it unbuttoned.

  Katie mumbles louder and I try to decipher what she’s actually saying, but it seems to be her own language.

  There’s a slight knock on the door. “I heard you come up the stairs. I’m done in the shower.” Dean eases the door open just enough so I can see his face.

  “Okay, I’m going to go in then. Go downstairs and rummage through the cabinets and freezer. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Oh, Dean?” I open the door and ease it slowly closed so not to wake Katie, even though I don’t think a stampede of elephants could wake her. “Can you put this in the freezer for me?” I turn from the door to hand him the ice pack, not expecting to see him shirtless. Again.

  Words start to come up, and then I go blank. I can’t take my eyes off of his perfectly sculpted chest. Far from scrawny, but not too overly worked out. Perfection.

  “I forgot about your head. Are you okay?” he asks, but I’m too busy staring at his chest to answer him. “Come here.” He waves his fingers and moves closer to me. Gently he moves my hair away as he examines the back of my head.

  “It’s not that bad,” I say when he runs his finger across it, causing me to wince in pain.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know. I’ll be fine. I’ll put the ice back on it after I get out of the shower.”

  “I’ll put it in the freezer so it’s ready for you.” His hand lingers on my neck. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Really, I’m fine.” It’s a bump on the head. It seems so miniscule compared to everything he deals with every day. />
  When I get out of the shower, I change into my pajamas. The tank top is short and reveals a little stomach, which I guess can be sexy. Maybe.

  Something delicious wafts up the stairs and my mouth waters. That is definitely not frozen food. I think about putting my hair up, but nix the idea when my stomach growls.

  I try to sneak up behind Dean but the creaking floor gives me away.

  “Cute pajamas,” he says, and heat rushes to my cheeks. He walks to the freezer and retrieves the ice pack. “Here.”

  “Thanks. What are you making? It smells amazing.”

  “Nothing really. You had a bag of chicken tenders in the freezer. I also found macaroni and cheese and frozen peas. I seasoned everything up a little bit and it should be done—” The timer beeps and he laughs. “Right now.”

  He reaches over, turns it off and takes the pan out of the oven. I stand back and watch how effortless he moves in a kitchen.

  “After you tell me about how you learned how to drive you are going to tell me where you learned to cook.”

  Dean makes up two plates, lights the candle Mom has on the table and dims the lights. “Romantic,” I say.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “Is that a warning?”

  “No. It’s a promise.”

  I blink away from his gaze and fork a piece of chicken into my mouth. My lids slide shut as I enjoy the food. “So where’d you learn to drive?” I ask.

  “I taught myself.”

  “I hit one mailbox and my mom refused to teach me. I had to take lessons. Seriously, you taught yourself?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Are you going to elaborate?”

  He runs his hands through his hair, takes a deep breath, his hands resting behind his head. Once he puts his arms down he begins.

  “I was in and out of foster homes since I was ten. Some weren’t bad. Others were, well, they were really bad. A majority of my foster parents looked at me as a paycheck. The last house I was in my foster dad was a drunk. He knew social workers wouldn’t come by the house after seven so he would start drinking at seven, be drunk by eight, and become an abusive asshole by nine. My foster mom worked nights and did drugs during the day. It was his job to feed us, but most of the time he forgot. I was the oldest, so I had to take care of the younger kids. I also took their beatings. I wouldn’t let him touch them.”