by Gia Riley
Going through the motions of a shower, I rest under the hot spray of water. Each drop that hits me washes away a little of the hope I’ve been gathering the past few weeks. Hope that my life was finally headed in the right direction, to a place that would bring me happiness in a world I didn’t fear at every turn.
I’m cold when I pull the shower curtain open and stare at my pale skin in the mirror. From the outside I look like every other girl on campus—normal. But inside, that’s where the hatred resides. Glancing at the toilet, I want to give in again, but there’s nothing left to give.
Caged in by my thoughts, I turn on the TV, the noise helping the silence from being too overwhelming. The pajamas I dig out are wrinkled and thin, the blankets are scratchy, and the bed a little lumpy. But at least I have a bed to sleep in and a roof over my head.
I try to rest, but their confessions replay over and over in my mind. The weight of the truth is more powerful than any lie they’ve told me over the years. Not wanting to spiral completely out of control, I rifle through my suitcase for my journal. As fast as the words come to me, I jot them down.
I’m nothing. Lies. All lies. He never loved me. I’m not his. She lied. Cheaters. Lies. I’m a mistake. They never wanted me. Lies. He’s not my father. They didn’t want me. They don’t want me. They never wanted me. He knows I’m his. He doesn’t want me.
Tears begin mixing with the black ink leaving blotches on the pages. After writing the same variations of words over and over, I don’t feel any better. Instead of continuing, I launch the pen at the wall, followed shortly after by the journal. I curse my therapist for her worthless advice. It’s the first time my emotions have been too strong to finish an entry and it scares me.
Frantically chewing on my thumbnail, the world closes in around me. Experiencing a full blown panic attack, my tunnel vision competes with my rapidly beating heart. I try counting out loud to keep from passing out, even smacking my cheeks to stay present. Nothing works. Instead, I lie in the center of my bed, face down until my body stops shaking. It could be minutes, although it seems more like hours until I settle down. Teeth still chattering, I stretch my arms and legs, releasing the locked muscles. My body as equally exhausted as my mind, I fall into a restless sleep, waking often. Each time I open my eyes I pray I’m in Kipton’s bed, safe and sound. But I’m disappointed when the grungy hotel walls taunt me instead.
I’ll survive today, but I don’t want to do this again tomorrow.
Alone.
DAY TWO WAS MUCH LIKE the first with an overwhelming sense of loss for a family I’ve never had continually gnawing at my heart. My anxiety is at an all-time high, my mind in a constant state of confusion. It’s enough of a struggle to stay present in the moment let alone imagine a life without the only parent I’ve ever loved.
Instead of driving further south, I stayed in bed with the curtains drawn. There’s no money left for a decent meal and my stomach has stopped begging to be fed.
Kipton’s tried to call, but I always respond by text knowing I won’t be strong enough to hide the truth from him otherwise. He doesn’t need to be drawn into my pathetic existence. Not until I get things figured out and have a solid plan.
Since I can’t afford to spend a third day in this hotel, I have to check out before they kick me out. Finally showered, I don’t bother drying my hair. Instead, I toss into a messy bun, change into clean clothing, and turn my key in to the front desk.
Stuffing my bag back into the trunk of my car, I realize it’s the only home I have—the only thing that belongs to me besides the clothing in my bags.
The cars only running for a few minutes before the gas gauge lights up. “No.” Banging my palm against the steering wheel, I say goodbye to the little money I have left. My stomach is silent yet desperate for food. My thirst dying to be quenched. The vending machine snacks have run out and I’d do anything for one more Cheeto.
Desperate enough to try mom’s ATM card before leaving the gas station, I’m expecting it to willingly spit out a twenty. I’m shocked when the account has been closed. Him, he did this. I’m so angry I leave the card sticking out of the machine, hoping someone can make it work and drain the account. Asshole.
Slamming my car door, I kick up the dirt in the parking lot when I pull out. A cloud of dust that’s eerily similar to my mood follows me as I speed down the road. Each turn and mile blend into the next—my drive completed by muscle memory.
An hour later, I make it back to campus with nowhere to go. It’s only Wednesday and I’m not due at Kipton’s until Friday. He would want me to run to him, but I’m hesitant. As much as my wounded heart needs him, my pride is too ashamed to go to him. He has it all, and I have nothing. Eventually, I worry he’ll get tired of loving someone who’s unfixable; someone that holds him back from the happiness he deserves.
But as I sit here wondering where to go, I know Kipton and Cara are my only answers. Against my better judgment, I reluctantly dial Kipton’s number when I can’t come up with any other solution. Without money, my options are limited.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Hearing his voice fills me with relief. “Hi, Kipton.”
“What’s up? I’ve missed you. You’ve been so busy.” I hear another guy’s voice in the background giving him shit about me. Kipton covers the phone with his hand and tells him to shut his trap.
“I miss you too.” So much.
“Hang on, I’m having trouble hearing you over the TV and Eric.” A door closes and it’s much quieter. “I’m back. You sound sad, babe. Are you okay?”
I pause before answering, preparing a more cheerful tone of voice for my response. “Of course I am. But do you think I can come see you earlier?” Please say yes.
“Is it going that bad with your Mom?”
“It’s fine. I just miss you and Cara. It’s weird not seeing her crazy ass every day.”
He laughs and the sound alone is enough to know he’s where I need to be. “I’d tell you to come now, but I’m going to a game with my buddy Eric in a little while. I’ll be all kinds of jealous if I know you’re here and I’m not. How about first thing tomorrow morning? That soon enough?”
“Yeah. That works.” I lose my forced chipper voice as the reality sets in that I’m spending the night in my car. In the cold. Alone. It’s not his fault
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” Where am I going to go?
“Sophie, I’d cancel if I could, but it’s his birthday. You know I’d rather be with you.”
I want him to have fun with his friend, so I lie. “I’m not mad at all. Have fun with your friend and I’ll see you in the morning. Okay?”
“Okay, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you. Call me if you have trouble finding the house tomorrow.”
“I will.”
“Love you.”
“You too.” I hang up as the sadness makes it hard to speak. All I want is to be in his warm arms tonight. To lay my head on his chest and know I’m safe.
There’s a secluded parking lot behind the back entrance of the gym that I drive to. I’m able to stay out of view from the public until I come up with a better plan. Not wanting to waste any gas, I turn the car off and sit in silence. A couple hours of rustling leaves and everlasting silence. Every second feels like a minute, every minute an hour.
When a campus security guard comes to patrol the lot, I take off. But instead of searching for another lot to hide in, I drive to the wrestling house for the simple fact that it reminds me of Kipton’s warmth. Sitting outside his house makes me feel closer to him—closer to someone who loves me. Maybe the only one who has ever loved me.
It’s here I’m reminded of the crazy parties, the alcohol, and the night we spent together in the treehouse. My chilled body has me tempted to check the house for an open window, but I decide against trying to break in. The last thing I need is to be found trespassing. It’s bad enough I’m on the property at all.
Each time a car passe
s, I watch to make sure it keeps going. No one can see me sitting here, yet I feel like I’m on display for the whole world. In my rear view mirror I spot the treehouse and know that’s where I need to go for sleep.
Expecting it to be empty, I sigh in relief when I find a sleeping bag rolled up in the corner. I waste no time shaking it out and climbing inside. I’m not sure why it didn’t make it down with the rest of the things Kipton brought up, but I’m thankful regardless.
As the sun sets, I lose the light inch by inch. No longer illuminated, I huddle into the corner desperate for warmth. It doesn’t help. Too weak from not eating anything today, I struggle to stay awake. Dozing on and off, too afraid to let my body relax entirely, I focus on happier times—when I wasn’t scared of my own shadow.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I’m startled awake and fight to wake my foggy brain. My eyes struggle to separate the shadow from the night’s darkness. A hand touches mine and I scream. Wrapped inside the sleeping bag, I can’t escape. “Please don’t hurt me. Please,” I beg.
“It’s me, Sophie. I’m here.”
How did he know? “Kipton?”
“Yes, baby. It’s me.”
“Kipton,” I cry.
Clutching onto him, I fall into his lap, my legs still stuck inside the sleeping bag. But I don’t care because he holds me tightly, whispering words of comfort in my ear. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here, beautiful.”
I struggle to find my voice. It’s thick with emotion and clogs my throat. “How? How did you find me?”
He reaches his hand out to push a few messy pieces of hair out of my eyes. “Caleb called me. He saw your car sitting in the lot, but couldn’t find you. God, Sophie. I panicked and drove straight here. What’s going on? Why are you in the treehouse?”
“I got home and it all went to hell. Dean was there. He’s not my Dad, Kipton. He never was and that’s why he’s always hated me. But my mom didn’t divorce him like she said either. It’s all been one big lie. My entire life has been a sham. And now my Mom loves Dean more than she loves me.”
“That’s not true. She’s your Mom. She loves you.”
“No, Kipton. I don’t think she does. Not the way I thought anyway. I’ve held her back from her dreams; took away her happy marriage when I was born. She had an affair while married to Dean. Coach Evans, Kipton. He’s my Father.” I sob.
Kipton holds me in his arms, comforting my shaking body. Admitting it makes it that much more real. Hearing the words aloud rather than stuffed inside my tired brain, make it the spoken truth. “I’m so sorry, Sophie. I’m sorry you were alone.”
“He’s destroyed me all these years because I’m the proof she cheated. A constant reminder. I’d hate me too.”
“No, Sophie. You don’t deserve anyone’s hate.” I wish his words were true. “I knew something wasn’t right when you called me earlier.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Have you been here since you called me?”
“It all happened Monday. I was only at my house for a half hour before I left.”
Kipton pulls me away from his embrace, holding me in his outstretched arms. His eyes look angry, but he doesn’t raise his voice or show me any other emotion besides compassion. “Monday? But you were busy. With your Mom. You said-.”
“I lied.” I hang my head not wanting to see the anger morph into pity. “I was ashamed and embarrassed. I’m sorry I lied to you.”
He hugs me tight, kissing the top of my head over and over. “Where have you been?”
“In a hotel. But I ran out of money. I didn’t know where to go so I drove here. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Sophie. I can’t believe you’ve been all alone. Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”
I nod my head yes. “I had snacks on Monday night and Tuesday morning.”
“Sophie, it’s almost Thursday.”
“I know. I ate a few things from the vending machine, but Dean closed the bank account. I didn’t have a way to get more money out.”
“That asshole,” he grumbles. “Come on. Let’s go eat and then I’ll get you settled in my room.”
“But your family.”
“We can go back in the morning. Tonight, we’re staying here. They know why I left. Don’t worry about them.”
“Okay.” As long as I have him. I just want him.
“Come on, beautiful. I’ll help you down. Go slow, just like last time.” I let him pull me up and out of the sleeping bag. Before we go down, I roll it back up.
“Sophie, you don’t have to do that. Leave it.”
“You have no idea how glad I was you left it up here. Almost like you could predict the future. You always give me what I need—even when you’re not with me.”
“If I could predict the future, I would have never let you go home.”
“As much as it hurts, I’m glad I did. I found out the truth. I finally got the answers I’ve always been searching for.”
He nods his head. “True. But that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier.”
I hang my head. “The truth really hurts, Kipton.” I don’t want him to watch me cry, but a few tears leak from my eyes and fall onto the bare floor boards. The thirsty wood absorbs them before the wetness has a chance to spread.
“You have me, Sophie. I’ll be your family.”
SOPHIE CLUTCHES MY HAND THE entire ride. I use my left hand to turn and shift, not even caring about the inconvenience. She needs me, and I won’t let her down. My heart fucking broke when I found her inside the treehouse. That was after I put it through the most uncertain half hour of my life. Not knowing where she was scared the ever loving shit out of me. But I found her, and although worn down and starving, she’s in my arms again. Exactly where she belongs.
“Where are we going, Kipton?”
“The diner. Is that okay?”
“Yes, but I’m a mess. Maybe I should wait in the car.”
“You’ll still be the most beautiful girl in the place.” She tries to let go of my hand, embarrassed by my comment, but I grab it back before she moves it too far away from me. “I was scared tonight, Sophie.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. I was. I still am.” I need her to realize how much she means to me; to know that I’d be devastated if she gave up on herself or on us.
“Why?”
I find a place to park and turn the car off. This particular conversation will have to wait until I get some food inside her stomach. That’s my top priority right now. “Eat. And then we’ll talk.”
She follows me out of the car before I can make it around to open her door for her. I hate when she does that, but I don’t try to correct her.
We settle into a booth in the back of the restaurant—the one we had our first date in. “Do you know what you want?”
“You can order for me again. You did well last time we were here.”
I smile, happy she’s willing to trust me with something as silly as ordering food. After ordering breakfast for two, I put the straw in my orange juice and do the same for her.
“Thank you,” she whispers. Her voice is as tiny as her body—frail and fragile.
“About what I said in the car. About being scared.” She stops drinking, staring at me in confusion. This might make me sound like a punk, but she needs to be honest with me, and I need to always be honest with her. That’s the only way what we have will work. She has lived a life of secrets and I don’t want that for us.
“Why are you scared? You have everything, Kipton.”
“I have been very fortunate. But none of it means shit unless you’re with me, Sophie.” There’s too much distance between us, and I don’t want her to feel bombarded, so I get up and slide next to her on her side of the booth. She scoots over next to the window and angles her body to face me. Here’s goes nothing.
“I’m scared because I don’t want you to give up. You’ve made so much progress and are working hard to beat your depression. I c
ouldn’t be more proud of you. But I’m selfish, Sophie. I need you in my life and I can’t lose you. Please don’t stop fighting. I don’t ever want you to hurt yourself because you feel alone. I’m here. I will always be here. You make my life better.”
I notice the slight trembling of her hands and wait patiently for her to work through her anxiety. Her foot nervously taps the floor underneath the table. I only know because she’s making the bench bounce ever so slightly. Working up the courage one nervous second at a time, she confesses. “I’m scared too, Kipton.” Thank fuck. I’d be even more worried if she wasn’t.
She meets me in the middle, her head finding my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her and rub her arm softly. “What scares you the most?”
“I don’t want to be that girl anymore, but I hurt so bad inside, Kipton. It kills me over and over—every time I’m reminded that I was a mistake. Even the woman who gave birth to me finally had enough of me. How do I stop loving her after all these years?”
“You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.”
“It’s so frustrating because as much as I want to hate her, I can’t. And that pisses me off so bad. I want her to feel as shitty as I do.”
She takes a sip of her juice as our food arrives. Staring at the table, she doesn’t touch anything. I wait patiently before handing her a fork. She accepts, but I’m careful not to push her. I can tell she’s struggling with her thoughts. “Sophie.”
She takes a bite of her egg white omelet. “This is good.”
I’m not hungry, but I eat my omelet anyway so she doesn’t have to eat alone. A few more bites go into her mouth before her fork falls from her fingers and clatters against her plate. “Sorry.” Picking it back up, she continues to eat.
“Your Mom deserves to feel your anger. They both do. They can’t expect you to be anything other than devastated. But remember that family doesn’t have to be blood. I’ll be your family. My family will be your family. I’ve told my Mom all about you. She can’t wait to meet you. Cara hasn’t stopped talking about you either. That’s why she flipped out on you so bad, because she loves you.”
