Always, Abby: Freshman Year

by M. Boothe

  I know that I want to leave here and find myself somewhere else. Even if that means I’m just mediocre in a different place, at least I’m not beaten down in this one.

  The teachers were pretty lenient today with work because guess what?

  IT’S HOMECOMING!

  The football team paraded around school most of the day wearing their jerseys, showing off. I don’t blame them, really. Football is one of the biggest pastimes here. It gives people something to do on Friday nights. All eyes on the players who, if they are lucky enough, have the talent to make it out of here. I’m sure they feel like celebrities.

  The school went all out with decorating and making announcements about who will be named king and queen during halftime. The girls go all out, too. Most of them wear weird, fancy suits and big hats. I heard one girl talking about her outfit during lunch and all I could think about was how it sounded like what an old lady would wear to church. I did see that one girl was protesting. She was nominated but didn’t want to be. Instead of telling them she was dropping out, she informed them she was making her own rules. It made me happy. Not a lot of people fight to be different.

  We had pizza during lunch today. And I mean real pizza delivered from somewhere. I actually like school food, but I was excited. I don’t really get to eat at restaurants too often. I’m very grateful for the food we do have. I’ve never actually starved, but I can usually count on one hand the number of times we go out to eat or even get pizza in a year. I think I was also the only teenager who’s never been to the movies with their family. I’ve gone a few times on field trips before, but that’s been it.

  It’s not even that it really bothered me. It was just a little embarrassing when somebody asks if I tried something, or watched something, and my answer is always no. I’m lucky that Dad, although he likes to ignore me most of the time, tries to get me out of the house occasionally. He manages to sneak me cash every now and then so that I can go and do things with Mason and his family or even after school stuff like the game tonight.

  I was really excited most of the day because I get to go with Dawson. He told me some of his friends were going to meet us there. I was a little surprised, because I don’t think they like me all that much even though they’re nice to me.

  It’s been a couple of weeks since we’ve talked about what happened, but I think he told them he needed to stop or at least slow down with what he’s doing. Every time they see us together, they’ll say hi or something small and then tell him they’ll talk to him later. I feel the implied “when you’re alone”. It’s like they’re mad at me. I asked him about it, and he said everything was fine. He said he was trying to take a step back from them because he’d promised me it wouldn’t become a secret between us.

  He said he wasn’t going to lose me.

  Do you ever think that people can crack when they hold so many contradictions within themselves? All of those pieces that make up who a person is, just bounce around hitting each other until one knocks too hard. Dawson was genuinely laid back about so many different things, but every time he mentioned us the intensity was almost touchable. He’d look at me, saying something crazy, and I could feel the words pushing on my skin, trying to break inside. Sometimes they were so thick that the barrier wouldn’t give and I’d feel them slide down my arms so I could hold them in my hands.

  I like carrying his promises, his declarations around with me. They make me feel not so alone.

  We were allowed to stay after school until the game started. They don’t let people do it for every game, but since this was homecoming, it was a special occasion. They had a projector set up in the auditorium for us to watch a movie. I can’t even tell you what movie was playing, because every time I tried to focus on what was happening, a hand would squeeze my thigh.

  I had been brutally honest with Dawson about how nervous I was with doing anything other than kissing. He agreed that he wasn’t ready for that either, but that it was hard to not kiss or touch me whenever he got the chance. Like right now.

  The seats we were sitting in were right underneath the sound booth. That meant that nobody was directly behind us, even though people were on either side. The people at our sides didn’t seem to care what was happening around them. Some were actually paying attention to the screen and others were just talking.

  Dawson was looking at me he was waiting on me to answer something. I was about to apologize when my eyes moved, and they made contact with Drew’s. He was sitting a few rows in front of us. I tried to smile but he looked away before I could. It felt like he was just staring at us, which kind of weirded me out. Dawson pulled my attention back to him and we spent the rest of the time laughing about hobbits and rings.

  I didn’t realize I had been counting down until we could go to the football field until we walked outside, and it felt like I could breathe. It may sound weird, but I swear a part of me belongs here. I don’t even really know what’s happening when the players do things. I just know that they do the things, and I can’t take my attention off of them. It could also be the atmosphere. The lights, the crowd, the smell from the concessions. It all adds to it.

  Dawson bought us some snacks to eat and we were sharing some popcorn when a couple of his friends showed up. They didn’t talk much to me, but I liked listening to them and Dawson. They were talking about trying to get a band together. I knew that Dawson played guitar, but I also learned that he wrote songs too. He’s never shown them to me. He told me most of them weren’t finished, and that he wanted them to be perfect before he sang them for me.

  It’s weird to think about, but I guess that’s how everybody does it. I just can’t imagine other celebrities or musicians sitting around at a football game, making decisions about their futures. I wanted that for them. I sat there in the stands watching the players chase the ball, listening to the bugs hit the lights and I wished that for them.

  I don’t know if anybody had ever looked at me and wanted me to succeed with whatever they saw me doing. I didn’t even necessarily want success in my life. I just wanted kindness. It’s okay if I didn’t make it to where I wanted to be. A lot of people don’t. I just didn’t want to be knocked out when I landed after trying.

  I looked at Dawson who was so happy, animated about learning to play a new song. I even saw Drew leaned back against the seats behind him, smiling, his eyes less intimidating, as he watched Dawson talk with his hands. That’s what he did. He never asked for it. He never went out of his way to do it. He just always stole the attention of those around him.

  The game seemed to move quickly. The girl who decided to break the rules wore a short schoolgirl skirt with flip flops. She didn’t win because she wasn’t a senior, but she definitely should have. The girl who did win was wearing some kind of hot pink suit. Her hat had feathers. We all laughed about that.

  Towards the end of the game Dawson asked if I wanted to walk around the track that borders the field. Most of the time students just walk around or cluster in groups to get closer to the game. Nine times out of ten the stands were only half full because people couldn’t seem to sit still.

  We said bye to everyone around us. I made eye contact with Drew and watched as the muscle in his jaw twitch. He seemed to always be tense about something.

  Dawson grabbed my hand as we made our way out of the stands. We started to walk toward where everyone else was walking, but he veered us to the side and then behind the stands of people. I had never been back there before. Even though there was a walkway that led down to the other side, nobody was walking back here. There weren’t even lights. We were just walking in the darkness, the sounds from the creek behind the school masking some of the noise from the game. I could hear the gurgling of the water like it was right next to us.

  I went to say something and Dawson nudged me up against the concrete wall that supports the stands. It was hard and cold against my back, and when I hit against it, a gasp popped out of my mouth. It didn’t get far, being eaten by an urgent set
of lips that were suddenly on mine.

  We had kissed before, but we had never kissed before. This felt crazed and hungry. He was leaning into me, his chest brushing mine, while his hands moved into my hair. He used the hold he had to angle my face so he could plunge into what was already a dangerously deep kiss. It felt like I was drowning in him. I could smell his peppermint candy, could taste it lingering on his tongue as he staked his claim. That’s exactly what he did. He claimed me in the shadows even though he made sparks of fire dance inside of me, lighting me ablaze.

  I could feel his warmth through the jacket he was wearing as my hands came up to touch his arms. I felt the muscles in them, straining and constricting with his movements.

  He broke the kiss almost as fast as he had started it. His eyes moved over my face. I remember bringing my fingers to my lips because they tingled. If I was being honest, I’d say my entire body was tingling. That was an entirely new development for me.

  He apologized for being rough but said he’d wanted to do that since the game had started. I started laughing. My laughing made him laugh. Then we both just laughed as we walked to the parking lot where his dad was going to pick us up.

  They just dropped me off a little while ago, and I’m lying in my bed wondering if it’s like this for everyone.

  Do you think so?

  Do you think that every time a person gets kissed their entire axis shifts, making them off balance? To be fair I think I’ve been dizzy my whole life but now, even though I’m rocking unleveled, it feels like there’s an anchor holding me to something so that I can’t go too far.

  Anyway, it’s still been a good day. Good days are few and far between for me. I’m going to tuck this one away inside, like the leaf in your pages, so that I can take it out and look at it when the day changes.

  Always,

  Abby

  October 31, 2003

  Dear Heart,

  Today is Halloween. It’s Friday, and everybody I know is out doing something with their friends or their family. I’m sure they’re having fun, getting candy or going to a party. I’m sitting in my room watching an old horror movie. Mom and Dad are yelling in the living room. Mom’s not really making any sense anymore. Her doctor wrote her a different prescription today and she’s stoned out of her head.

  The screaming in the living room is at least drowned out by the screaming and murdering I’m trying to listen to.

  I can remember one of my favorite Halloweens when I was little. I was maybe six or seven. I got to dress up as a witch. My grandma had given Mom money to buy a costume that year. My dress was black velvet, and it dragged the floor behind me. There were purple and orange beads sewn into it, making it sparkle in the streetlights while we walked from house to house. It came with a huge hat that stood at least two feet high, ending in a point, with shiny silver stars placed all around.

  I loved it so much. I tried to sleep in it. I felt so pretty. I wore it as often as I could, whenever I could. Out of all the costumes I can remember, that one had been my favorite.

  I also remember coming home from school and finding it shredded in the trash. Mom had dumped her ashtray on top of it, ashes caked into the velvet. When I asked her why, she said I was too old to play dress up every day. She said it was ugly, and she was tired of me wearing it. Dad sat in the living room, staring at a movie playing on the television. He didn’t say a word.

  I don’t need to go out tonight to see the monsters and ghouls.

  I live with them.

  Always,

  Abby

  November 27, 2003

  Dear Heart,

  I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve talked to you.

  I think maybe it’ll be better if I just fill you in when important things happen. That way you’re not waiting around for something stupid. You’ll get the popcorn AND the butter.

  Today was Thanksgiving. Do you know that it’s hard to celebrate a day when you’re not feeling very thankful?

  Mom has been on the warpath for the last week. Every single day she talked about how hard it was preparing for a huge dinner. I’ll admit that she does cook a lot. We save money practically all year to be able to afford a huge meal like today, and especially for Christmas. For Thanksgiving we usually have a turkey and every single side you can imagine. Then we have at least three or four different desserts. Unfortunately, holiday dinners aren’t a happy family affair in our home.

  Mom never lets anybody help cook. Then she complains that nobody respects the work that she’s done. By the time we sit down to eat, Dad and I are worn out from listening to her degrade us for not knowing how she likes things done. We just sit and eat, barely muttering a word to each other. After dinner, she yells about how nobody will help clean up.

  I gave up trying to help her when she threw a cup at me because I washed the dishes “out of order”. Today was particularly bad because it’s the end of the month and her doctor wouldn’t advance her any pills. He had done that once or twice before, but I honestly think he likes the control he has over people. He gets to play God in his ivory-painted office, handing out unneeded medication like his patients are starving.

  I want him to get in trouble so bad that it hurts sometimes. But nothing ever happens. She’s been getting her fix from him for almost four years now. Nothing’s ever happened to her where she needs pain medication, but that doesn’t stop her from hamming it up in his office.

  So today she’s twitchy with need and taking it out on Dad and me. My grandparents were supposed to come today, but they canceled. I’m pretty sure it was because they already knew the condition Mom would be in, and they didn’t want to see that. Which is also confusing since my grandma started this cycle to begin with. She has everyone fooled, too.

  After sitting around for a couple of hours, Dawson and his dad showed up to pick me up. Dad had told me I could go to their house that evening to eat with them. Mom was still mad about it. I don’t even know why. She either barely spoke one word to me, or she flat out berated me until I’d finally get tired and lock myself up in my room. This evening would be a nice break from that.

  She grabbed me before I could walk completely out of the door, her fingers pinching the skin under my arm. I yelped and winced, trying to pull away from her. All she had to say was not to let him come in. She had brightened some, making me think my second of pain had improved her mood.

  It was sickening.

  When I walked outside, Dawson was getting out of the front seat of his dad’s SUV. He looked at me and could tell something was wrong. When we got to his house, I barely made it a step outside of the car before he grabbed my wrist. Making sure his dad was out of earshot, he asked if I was okay. I never know what to say to him. I want to always be honest, but it’s hard when anything that happens outside of school and being with him is never okay.

  So, I told him what happened. I could hear his teeth grinding. To me, it wasn’t even that bad. She’d absolutely done worse before. He started to try to take my arm out of my hoodie, when I panicked. I didn’t know if there’d be a mark, but I didn’t want him to see it if there was.

  He stared at me for a second and told me he needed to see. When I got my arm out of the sleeve, there were two faint fingertip bruises. They were barely discolored, but he saw them.

  I can’t begin to explain the embarrassment I felt with him looking at my arm. I looked into his eyes and saw how angry he was for me. I told him it was okay, and he said, “It’s never fucking okay, Abby”. And I felt like that’s what I had been trying to tell him but couldn’t. Like I can say to you, Dear Heart, it’s never okay away from my safe places.

  He helped me tuck my arm away, and then wrapped his arm around me and we walked into his house. His family lived in a completely different atmosphere than mine. It was almost a balm for my hurts today. Everybody was pleasant and talkative. His mom let me help as much as I could even though I didn’t know how to cook anything. The food was perfect. The desserts were homemade. The laughs
were endless.

  It made me so sad, Dear Heart.

  I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and twenty minutes later, that’s where Dawson found me, curled into myself next to his bathtub. Even his bathroom seemed happier than me.

  He sat next to me, rubbing circles on my back, asking me what had happened. How do you explain to somebody who had never been where you’ve been, who had never seen what you’ve seen, that you’re jealous? He’d never understand that I was so envious of his family, his life. We could probably go a week in my family without hearing a single happy noise, but his entire house was like a laugh track on a sitcom. It just continually played, over and over. It was the kind of laughing that, if it went on for too long, would cause tears to roll down your face, and you’d have to catch your breath.

  How can I tell him that I wanted that? I wanted that so bad, and even though his family was so nice me, I hated them in that second for the things they probably took for granted. The tears on my face weren’t from an overflow of happiness. They were like the rotten juice leaking out of spoiled fruit. They were ugly and bitter. The breath that I would have to chase down was from the panic attacks I got at night because the stress was suffocating me.

  I’m sure he was confused when I just started blubbering about it all. He moved in front of me and got onto his knees. He took his time, using his fingers to wipe away the tears that were so used to leaving tracks down my face. He kissed my snotty nose and gripped me around my waist while he stood, bringing us both up to our feet.

  Then he said something that I think I’ll probably keep with me for a while. He said, “If you want it, we’re trying to give it to you. You just have to think you deserve to enjoy it”.

  Do you think sometimes people stay trapped in their cycles of despair because they don’t know how to handle any other feelings other than what they’ve experienced, what they’ve been given? If I’ve barely been happy my entire life, if I’ve been lost in the coldness until now, how is my little body supposed to hold all the warmth and love I can feel in this house?