She was mean.
I didn’t like mean people.
Why did my chest hurt?
“Please, just talk to me, Flynn!”
I didn’t want to talk to Ellie.
But she was looking sad and I didn’t like her to be sad, like I was sad.
I had to go to the cafeteria and eat my lunch before Stu took it. I was hungry. Mom had packed me chicken salad. It was my favorite.
“I’m sorry! Can I come over?” she asked.
I liked her coming to my house. It made me happy. She wasn’t mean when she was at my house.
“There’s the freak! Freaky Flynn!” Dania yelled and Ellie laughed. She looked at me and her face looked funny.
I got mad.
“You can’t come over! I hate you!” I yelled to Ellie and turned around and ran down the hallway.
I was sad when I went home. I didn’t eat any banana bread and Mom said she was worried about me.
I told her about Ellie and she got upset. She said she was going to call the school and make them do something.
I told her not to.
I didn’t want Ellie to get into trouble.
I told Ellie I hated her but I didn’t hate her.
She still made my stomach feel funny but now she made me sad all the time.
She never laughed anymore.
Mom said she wanted to call the principal. That maybe he could help me. That he’d make sure Stu and Dania and Ellie couldn’t be mean to me anymore.
I liked the sound of that.
I didn’t want Ellie to get into trouble but I didn’t want them being mean to me either.
I said okay. And Mom smiled. She said she’d handle it.
Mom was yelling at me to get up. She was shaking me and I hit her to make her stop.
“Flynn! We have to get out of the house!” she yelled.
I opened my eyes and my room was full of smoke. I started coughing and my eyes stung. It smelled bad. Like when Mom would burn the pot roast.
“Hurry up, Flynn! The house is on fire!” she yelled, shaking me again.
I didn’t like her shaking me but I was scared. The house was on fire. The smoke was bad. I couldn’t breathe.
I coughed and coughed and coughed.
Mom pushed open my door and the smoke was worse in the hallway.
I started crying.
“Where’s Marty?” I yelled but Mom kept telling me to go down the stairs and get outside.
Where was my dog? Where was Marty?
I cried harder and yelled at Mom to find Marty.
She was crying too. We ran out of the house. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes burned. Mom hugged me and I let her.
“Mom, go get Marty!” I yelled but she kept saying she couldn’t.
The firemen came and started spraying stuff at my house. I yelled at them to get my dog. I was getting really angry that no one was listening to me.
“Where’s my dog?” I screamed and Mom tried to hug me again. I pushed her and she fell.
One of the firemen tried to pull me back and I tried to hit him.
“You need to calm down, young man. And don’t hit your mother,” he said. He was scary with his helmet on.
“He has Asperger’s. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing,” my mom said to the firefighter. He looked at me. I didn’t want him to look at me.
I knew what I was doing. I was mad. I wanted to hit them for not getting my dog.
Mom was crying, telling me it would be okay.
I just wanted my dog.
Someone told Mom that it looked like the fire had been set on purpose. Mom started crying harder.
No one ever got my dog.
Mom said he had gone to heaven with my dad. That they’d play together now.
I didn’t want my dad to have Marty in heaven! I wanted him here!
I yelled and got angry but I didn’t hit her. I didn’t want the fireman to yell at me again.
Marty was dead.
My house had been burned down.
I cried all night until Mom took me to a hotel.
-Ellie-
We weren’t touching anymore. But I could still feel the heat of Flynn’s skin on mine. I was staring at the ceiling while Flynn slept beside me. We had kept the door to the balcony open a crack and I could still hear the thundering waves. A chilly fall breeze filtered into the room, making me cold.
I shivered and pulled the blanket up around my shoulders. Murphy’s light snores echoed in tune with Flynn’s heavy breathing.
My mind and heart were reeling and I couldn’t sleep. Making love to Flynn had been incredible. Afterwards Flynn didn’t know what to do. The aftermath was a lot more awkward than the actual act had been. He had been shy and uncomfortable, not meeting my eyes.
“Did you like it?” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip. I had pulled the sheet up to cover my naked breasts and Flynn fidgeted, his arm still wrapped around me but his fingers were flexing in and out as though he wanted to pull away.
“Of course I did. Did you?” I asked him, feeling suddenly insecure. Oh god, what if it sucked? What if I sucked? And I knew, without a doubt, that Flynn would tell me. If he announced that I was a lousy lay, I think I’d lose it.
Flynn had peeked up at me through the strands of dark hair that had fallen in his face. “I want to do it again,” he said softly, smiling. The sickening sense of dread evaporated in an instant and I laughed. A happy and contented sound.
We hadn’t had sex again but there was lots more kissing and touching. Flynn was particularly fond of my stomach and of course my breasts. He spent a lot of time and attention to those areas. And I for one wasn’t complaining.
“Don’t do this with anyone else. Ever,” he said as he kissed the mole on my hipbone. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked down at the top of his head. His breath was warm on my skin and I felt the wet slide of his tongue.
“What do you mean?” I asked huskily, already losing myself to him again.
Flynn stopped and looked up at me, his green eyes blazing into mine. “I want you to only do that with me. Okay?” he posed it as a question but it was spoken as a command.
“You don’t want me with anyone else?” I asked, grinning.
Flynn shook his head vehemently. “No! People that love each other don’t do that with anyone else.”
I almost choked.
Flynn Hendrick had just told me that he loved me.
Flynn loved me!
“Then will you come with me if I go away to school?” I asked gently, wanting to smack myself for bringing up such a contentious subject when we were both feeling languid and peaceful.
But Flynn didn’t get upset this time. He came back up the bed to rest his head on the pillow by my side. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. It makes me mad. You get sad. It doesn’t feel good. I want to feel good with you. Not angry.” He frowned at me, as if to scold me for my inconsideration.
His refusal to answer me bugged me but I tried to ignore it. We had resumed our touching and kissing and loving each other. And I pushed aside the nagging voice in my head that warned this would all disappear.
Afterwards Flynn had gotten dressed again and settled beneath the sheets, promptly falling asleep. Leaving me to my racing thoughts and pounding heart.
Flynn loved me.
That simple yet profound statement bounced around in my overly crowded head.
The realization that my feelings were reciprocated filled me with such a bright, shiny happiness that it blinded me.
But there was a darkness that hovered at the edges of my joy and the more I tried to pretend it wasn’t there, the larger it grew. Until it had eclipsed the sun of Flynn’s love.
Because there it was. My old friend…guilt and shame.
Flynn loved me. But would he still love me if I told him the truth? Would he still want to touch me once I was honest with him about what I had done all those years ago?
I felt sick and my head ached.
I couldn’t let another day pass without him knowing.
He deserved to know who it was he was giving his heart to.
I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Flynn’s soft breathing and feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. What kind of person kept such a huge secret from the person they claimed to love?
Selfish coward party of one!
Flynn made a noise and rolled over. His eyes fluttered open and I could see him peering at me in the dark.
“Why are you still awake?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.
“I’m not tired,” I lied. Because I was exhausted. It felt it deep in my bones. But it wasn’t a tiredness rest could cure.
Flynn folded his hand underneath his face and continued to look at me. For once I didn’t like his attention. Not when I was feeling so shitty about myself.
The truth was sitting dangerously on the tip of my tongue, demanding that I let it out. Before I let this go any further, I had to come clean.
I couldn’t let him continue to love a person he didn’t really know.
“I need to tell you something,” I said.
Flynn yawned. “What is it?” he asked innocently.
I took a deep breath and rolled onto my side to face him. The only light came from the street lamp outside the hotel. It filtered into our room, illuminating the bed. I folded my hand beneath my face, mirroring his position. We weren’t touching and as much as I wanted to reach out for him, I couldn’t.
“We never talk much about the way things were between us in high school,” I began.
Flynn shook his head. “I don’t like talking about that,” he interrupted.
“I know you don’t,” I whispered. “But we need to,” I insisted.
“Why?” he asked, sounding angry. And I didn’t blame him. Who wanted to talk about a past that hurt so badly? Who wanted to relive a shared history that we had worked so hard to put behind us?
“Because there are some things you need to know,” I said, swallowing thickly.
Flynn was quiet. He didn’t ask any questions but he didn’t shut me down either. It gave me the chance to get myself together and think about how I was going to approach this. It would have to be like ripping off a Band-Aid. Quickly and painfully.
“After your birthday, when Stu and Dania were so mean to you, I felt horrible. But I was sick and tired of feeling horrible. You made me feel all this stuff. I felt guilty. I had never cared what other people thought of me. Not until you,” I began, my voice already wavering.
Get through this, Ellie. I told myself.
“If you felt horrible, why did you make fun of me? You were worse than the others. Because you were supposed to be my friend.” His words weren’t an accusation, just honest.
“I know. I think I was worse because I cared more, if that makes any sense,” I tried to explain.
Flynn started chewing on his bottom lip. I knew talking about this had the potential to set him off. I was taking a huge risk. For both of us.
Was it selfish of me to need to cleanse my guilt at the expense of Flynn’s happiness? Confessions could be catastrophic. And I had no doubt mine would do just that.
“It doesn’t make any sense. If you were my friend, you wouldn’t have called me names. You wouldn’t have laughed when Dania and Stu hit me and teased me. If you liked me, you should have stuck up for me. That’s what people who care do.”
His black and white description hurt. But only because it was the truth. And I hated that he believed I hadn’t cared for him at all. I wish I could make him see how much I truly did care, even if it hadn’t looked like it. I had been a screwed up girl back then. I was still screwed up. I was just better able to analyze myself than I had been when I was younger. And I wasn’t explaining myself very well at all.
“We were friends, Flynn. I was just weak. And I thought it was easier to go along with Dania and Stu and Shane then to stand up to them. I didn’t want them to think I was a loser.”
“And you would have been a loser if you were friends with me,” Flynn stated and I winced.
“No, I was the loser, Flynn. I was the stupid one. Not you. You were my friend and I treated you like garbage.” My self-loathing dripped out of me. I couldn’t contain it.
I took another deep breath and carried on before I lost my nerve. “And I was mad all the time. I was mad at myself for treating you like that and then I’d get mad at you because you made me care about being mean to you in the first place. I stupidly thought it would be easier if I could turn off my feelings and forget you ever existed. Dania and Stu were getting suspicious of our relationship. They were teasing me all the time. They told everyone I was a freak lover. People were laughing at me. No one would talk to me. And it was only getting worse. And that made me even angrier. At you. Because in my mind, none of it would have happened if you hadn’t moved to Wellsburg. If I hadn’t been drawn to you. In my head, it was all your fault.”
I chanced a look at Flynn and I couldn’t see him very well in the inky blackness. Only his nose and chin were visible in the streetlight. He wasn’t moving. I could barely tell if he was breathing.
I wanted to touch him so bad. I wanted to hold him and make this horrible confession easier for me to stomach.
But I didn’t deserve easier. I deserved for it to be painful and difficult and for it to scrape me raw.
“And I knew the only way to get rid of you, to get rid of these feelings I had for you, was to treat you like everyone else did. I wanted to show Dania and Stu and the rest of them that I didn’t care about you. I wanted to convince myself that you didn’t matter. So I told Stu and Dania to come with me one night out to your house.”
I felt my nausea rise in my throat. I thought I was going to be sick.
“We had been drinking and Stu brought a box of fireworks. I suggested we light a couple and throw them into your yard. I wanted to scare you. Because you hate loud noises.”
Flynn had to know where this was going. I wish he would say something. But he remained resolutely quiet. Not giving any indication that he was even hearing me. But I could see that he was still awake and he was still watching me.
So I kept going.
“We crept up your yard and hid behind one of your outbuildings. Dania, Stu, and I each took a firecracker and lit it and then we threw them toward your house. I realized instantly that we had made a horrible mistake. Stu’s had gone out once it hit the wet grass. Dania’s hit the side of your house and made a pop before it died. But mine…well mine rolled into the open window leading into your basement. I saw it go off and the next thing I knew flames and smoke were everywhere. There was a huge bang. I heard something explode in your house and then I was running. Dania and Stu were screaming at me to get the hell out of there. They kept going, through the woods, and back toward the road, where Stu had parked his car. But I couldn’t leave. I wanted to help you. I really did. But I didn’t know what to do. The fire was spreading so fast. And then the fire department and the police showed up so I hid in the trees.”
That night, six years ago, came flooding back, debilitating me. I remembered watching from the trees as I saw Flynn and his mother rush out into the yard. I had been so relieved that they had made it out and then the strangest thing had happened. I had become angry. Rage coursed through my body as I watched his house smolder and burn.
Because I had fucked up. I had ruined my life. And for what? And for who?
It was because of Flynn. I had allowed my irrational emotions to be ruled by a boy who didn’t understand the devastation he had created just by caring about me.
And when the police found me hiding in the woods and questioned what I was doing there, my stupid mouth started running away from me before I could stop it.
After that, life as I knew it had been over.
All because I had something to prove. Because I wanted to forget how much I had cared about Flynn Hendrick.
So I
had started hating him. It had been easier than remembering how much I loved him.
Because I had loved him. Even then.
“I was the one who set fire to your house and killed Marty. It was me, Flynn. I ruined your life. I ruined my life. It’s all my fault.” My chest was heaving up and down and I was having a hard time catching my breath. Now that the truth was out there I expected to feel better.
I didn’t.
Because Flynn wasn’t saying anything.
He continued to lay there, with his hand beneath his cheek, regarding me with steady, unreadable eyes.
I couldn’t look at him any more, so I got up out of bed and went to close the sliding door. I looked out at the beach where we had walked only hours before. I had ruined everything.
I was empty and lonely.
And still he said nothing.
His silence was worse than his anger.
I almost wished he’d flip out and throw things. I wanted him to call me names and yell.
That I could deal with. I knew how to handle those sorts of reactions.
But he was doing absolutely nothing!
And I had no idea what I should do.
My phone started ringing, startling me. I looked over at Flynn and he had finally sat up, his hair sticking up all over his head. He didn’t look distressed. He didn’t look angry. I couldn’t tell what the hell he was feeling.
I didn’t want to answer the phone. I wanted to figure out what was going on between us. That was my priority.
But the incessant ringing was jarring.
“Answer it,” Flynn said, pointing to where it lay on the desk.
Not wanting to make the situation worse by refusing, I picked it up and looked down, surprised to see Reggie’s number flashing across the screen.
“Hello?” I said after answering.
“Oh thank god you answered!” Reggie let out in a rush.
“What is it, Reggie?” I asked, not bothering to hide my annoyance. I glanced at Flynn and he was still watching me. He never stared at me this long before and to have him do it now, after everything I had just told him, was extremely disconcerting.
“Where are you?” she asked and I realized she sounded panicky.
“Um…in Virginia, remember?”
Reclaiming the Sand Page 27
