“No, do you mind waiting for me though?”
“Sure.”
I approached the doors and wondered for a second if I’d made the right decision. Maybe she wouldn’t even see me. But I had to right this one, since I couldn’t make things right with my dad.
I asked for Candie at the front desk. They made me empty out my pockets and I walked through a metal detector. Then I put my shoes in a bin and was escorted to her room. Quite frankly, I was surprised that they let me see her, but the nurse explained that they encourage visitors since suicide attempters need to know their friends and family still care about them.
I didn’t know if I’d still call myself her friend. Especially after I learned what she had done to Dallas. But this couldn’t be ignored.
I rubbed my head. This was complicated.
Candie was sitting in a recliner, reading a book. I slipped through the door and closed it behind me.
“If I could feel anything right now, I’d be pretty pissed to see you,” she barely looked up from her book.
I sat in a hard chair across from her.
“They got you pretty doped up, huh?”
“I guess. You know, I don’t really want to see you right now. Why don’t you just leave?”
“I don’t want to leave. I want to talk to you. What’d you do?”
She sniffed, dog-eared her book, and set it down.
“I swallowed a bottle of Vicodin.”
“Where’d you find that?”
“Zane’s mom has chronic pain. He’s pretty angry at me for stealing it. He broke up with me yesterday.”
“I’m sorry.”
She snorted. “No, you’re not. You think I deserve it for sleeping with him while you two were together.”
“Well, you’re right. I’m not sorry you broke up—he was an ass—but I am sorry he hurt you.”
“Whatever.”
She rolled her eyes, opened her book again, and completely ignored me.
I wasn’t one to reflect on why things happened, but in that moment I did. I wondered if I’d experienced some of those things with my dad so that I would be able to help Candie through this now. Was this God’s or Karma’s way of putting purpose into my misery?
I watched her as she read. She looked horrible. Her black and pink hair was stringy and she wore no makeup. Her baby blue eyes darted across the page. She slammed the book shut and I jumped.
“I’m so fucked up.”
I shrugged. “We all are.”
“No, you don’t get it. As close as we were, you and I never really talked about boys much. Mostly because you made it so plainly clear that you disapproved. Do you know how hard it is to have a best friend who judges you like that? I couldn’t tell you anything.”
Ouch.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t willing to listen then, but I am now. I promise, no judging.”
“Right.” She tapped her foot on the floor and crossed her arms. “Maybe you should go now.”
“No, I don’t think I’m ready to.”
She fiddled with the edge of her shirt.
“You know, for the last few years I’ve blamed Dallas for what he did to me. But now I think I should be blaming someone else.”
I didn’t tell her that she should really own up to her own behavior. Maybe this was progress. Again, I waited. It felt so familiar, I almost expected to see my dad sitting across from me.
“Two years before I met Dallas, my dad left my mom and me. Disappeared. The last fight was a big one and I heard the whole thing. He screamed at mom, ‘If you fucked me, I wouldn’t have to find others.’ From that day on, I gave boys whatever they wanted so they wouldn’t leave me. But most of them did anyway. They weren’t looking for a relationship, they just wanted sex. Zane was probably my first real boyfriend in two years.”
I gave her a fake grin. “He left me for the same reason your Dad left your mom.”
She looked down at her lap. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Better things happened because of it. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch.”
She laughed.
“I stole your boyfriend and you are apologizing for being a bitch? If you’d done that to me and ended up in the hospital, I wouldn’t be sitting across from you.”
“Yes, you would. Do you remember when my dad died? You spent your entire summer sitting on my bedroom floor. You didn’t have to do that.”
She rubbed the bridge of her nose and then twirled her hair.
“Do you remember, two weeks after he died you helped me go through my closet, makeup, and nail polish, and burn anything that had any red in it?
She grinned. “Yeah, I do. A week later, while you were sleeping, I found a red sock under your bed. I took it home and threw it away so you didn’t have to see it. Why did we do that, anyway? You never told me.”
“Red was Dad’s favorite color. I still don’t wear it.”
She nodded and looked out the window.
“Can we talk about Dallas?” I asked. This was the trick to us being friends. I wasn’t willing to give up Dallas for her.
She rolled her eyes. “What about him?”
“He’s my boyfriend and you are my best friend. I’m not sure how to reconcile that.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” She stared at me as if I was supposed to magically come up with a solution.
Time to wrap this up. This conversation had been good for me. I doubted Candie and I would ever be good friends again. We’d probably stay Facebook friends, and in a few years we might get together and have drinks or something, but the day-to-day friendship was obviously over. Really, it had ended the day she slept with Zane.
I was glad she was still alive though, and getting help.
“Candie, I love you. I wish you the best. If you ever need anything, call me. Get better.”
I stood to leave.
She picked up her book again. Without looking at me, she said, “Thanks for coming to see me. It means a lot.”
I stood against the wall outside her room. She was so different from the Candie I knew. Her callousness, the complete and utter lack of emotion. It scared the hell out of me, because I could have been in her spot. Easily.
The real family curse had nothing to do with hiccups. It had to do with the debilitating depression that settled upon us all. That was something my mother never understood. She thought my dad was a little crazy for killing himself, but she’d never admit that it was depression. In her mind, depression didn’t exist.
I had really hoped I’d escaped that part of the family curse. But being here in Minneapolis, being happy, taught me that for the past two years I’d been depressed. Depression sucked. I wondered how much longer I could have taken it before I would’ve succumbed to the same temptations Candie did. How long would I have to wait before it cycled around again? Because depression doesn’t just go away.
Grant looked up from his phone when I got in the car.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” I said, honestly.
He patted my knee. “Sorry, kiddo.”
“Did you ever see my dad go through this?”
He let out a deep sigh.
“No, your Dad moved out of the house when I was eight. He was always lively when he visited. You know how he could put on a show. There were times when we didn’t see him for months. I think that’s when the depression had its grip on him. I don’t think anyone knew that he would kill himself.”
Wrong. Someone did.
“I knew.”
He turned to me.
“How?”
“When I was twelve, I found him in the garage with the car running. There was a small hose leading from the exhaust pipe to the car window. He begged me not to say anything to anyone. He promised me he would get help. He reminded me of all the things he kept secret from my mother, like the R-rated movies we watched, my summer boyfriend, and the small glasses of beer he let me have. He said if I told on him, he’d have to tell on me. So
I kept my mouth shut. It’s my fault he died.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. I’d never told anyone that before. I tried not to think about it either. But seeing Candie like that and knowing what she’d almost done, I had to talk about this, had to get it out in the open. I never, ever, wanted this to be my fate.
It felt good to get it out. The guilt that had lived in my stomach suddenly disappeared. Grant grasped my hand.
“Savannah, look at me.”
His eyes were bright, alive, and full of anger.
Oh, no. He’s going to kick me out, because I could’ve saved his brother but didn’t.
“What your father did to you was horrible. Awful. He never should’ve burdened you with that. He was a master manipulator. To threaten telling on you was low. It is not your fault that he’s dead. Even if he had gotten help at that time, he’d probably still be dead today.”
Grant wasn’t mad. In fact, he seemed to think it was my dad’s fault.
“I could’ve stopped him the second time. On the coaster, I was looking in the other direction. How did I not see him unbuckle his seatbelt, and stand up in the car when we crested the top of the hill? I only saw him at the last moment. He looked at me just before he leapt and said, ‘love you.’ Then he was gone. Why didn’t I grab his shirt, or foot, or something? He had brought me along because he’d wanted me to stop him.”
“No, that’s not why. Think about this for a second. If you had grabbed his foot, do you really think you could’ve held on? Even if you had, do you really think he would’ve lived? I don’t know why he brought you with him, but it was probably a purely selfish move. I loved my brother. I wish he were alive right now just so I could beat the shit out of him. He should have never put you in that position. You were just a kid, still are. Everything was always about him. He never thought much about how his actions impacted the people he loved. It’s not your fault.”
My head suddenly felt like it would float away. Grant just told me the words I’d been waiting to hear since my dad died. It’s not my fault. I repeated it in my head over and over again. Could it be true? I looked at Grant. His mouth was still twisted in an angry sneer, but I knew that wasn’t meant for me.
I reached over and gave him an awkward hug. “Thank you.” I didn’t need to say anything else. He’d just saved my sanity.
He started the car.
“There are secrets your Dad made me keep, too. We’ll need to talk about those, but not right now. I think we’ve had enough drama for one night.”
IN THE MORNING, I found Grant and my mother deep in discussion at the kitchen table.
“She has commitments here. We wanted her to learn responsibility, remember? If she walks out on the job without giving me at least two weeks, she’s not being very responsible.”
Mom frowned.
“But family comes first. Her family needs her,” she said, looking at me. Grant wouldn’t win this one on his own.
“Grant’s family too. He needs me here. Why can’t you just hire another teenage girl? I’ve got a list of names.”
“Because Teddy misses you. I miss you. Please, come home. We could really use you.”
I started to say something but Grant looked at me and shook his head.
“Look, part of the reason why you sent Savannah up here was because she was having a hard time doing the right thing in Albert Lea. It sounds like she was sullen and withdrawn, hanging with a rough crowd, and being belligerent. We had a rough start, but once she decided to change she’s been amazing. She’s a hard worker admired by her superiors. She’s made good friends who do the right thing. Can’t you see that maybe this is better for her? What if she moves back home and falls right back into the old behavior? What if Albert Lea just isn’t the right place for her?”
Mom looked at me, her eyes narrowed.
“When you put it that way, you make it sound like she should never come home, that she should stay here forever.”
“I don’t know about forever, but for a while. Maybe a year. She’s thriving. Don’t you think we should nourish that?”
Mom covered her mouth.
“That’s nonsense. We need her. She can’t stay here.”
Grant’s mouth twisted into that angry grimace again. I almost laughed at the fact that in less than twelve hours he’d been pissed at both of my parents.
“You would put your own needs above your daughter’s? Did you ever stop to think that maybe she needs to be here?”
“She’s my daughter. She knows full well that she needs to be with us, taking care of Teddy. Not here, playing grown up. Everything she has is in Albert Lea, it would be stupid for her to stay here.”
“Mom,” I interrupted, “I want to stay here. Please.”
“You mean you are actually considering staying here for the year?” She grasped the edge of the table like it would float away. “This is absurd. We have to leave, and I can see that you need to finish out the summer here, but we’ll be back on August fifteenth. We won’t have much time so make sure you are packed when we get here.”
“Mom, I’m not coming home.”
“Yes, you are.”
Grant’s phone rang and he excused himself to his bedroom. I suppose he’d done all he could at that point. This was my fight now.
“I’m eighteen. I can make my own decisions. I’m not coming home.”
“What about Teddy?”
“Teddy will be fine. I’ll call him once a week and come to visit once a month. This is the best place for me. I’m happy. I’m finally healing. Let me be.”
She huffed as she shoved Teddy’s toys into a bag.
“I’ve never met someone so unbelievably selfish. You haven’t changed at all, you just changed the way you show it. You’re still selfish, just like your father. I need you and all you can think about is yourself.”
I did not want to be like my dad in this respect. I wondered if I really was being selfish. Probably, but then again, so was she. Things would be so different if we both thought of each other instead. The argument would still be there, but reversed. I’d be pushing to go home and she’d be pushing for me to stay. I smiled at the irony.
“You think this is funny? You think hurting me is amusing?” Her voice cracked and climbed up a few decibels. “I can’t believe you’d do this to your own mother, abandon her like this and then laugh in her face.”
I rolled my eyes. Her manipulation game was strong.
“Mom, I’m not laughing at you. I only smiled, because I was thinking about something else.”
“Probably that Dallas boy. You’d abandon your own family for a boy.”
Yep, manipulation was turned up to a ten.
“I don’t have to listen to this. I’m going to take Teddy to the car.”
She rounded the table and snatched him before I could pick him up.
“Oh no you don’t. You’re never touching my boy again. You stay here forever, you stupid little bitch. I never want to see or hear from you again.”
It would have been better if she’d slapped me.
For the first time all weekend, Dave spoke up. He looked directly at me.
“She doesn’t mean that. She’s just upset. Trust me, halfway home she’ll be bawling in the car because she said these things. You’ll get a thousand apologetic texts from her. We’ll be leaving now.”
He was right. I knew he was right, but it still hurt.
I didn’t watch them leave. I went back to my room where I could cry in private.
After my shower, I texted Dallas.
Success. I’m staying here. But mom threw a fit.
Can you get here a few minutes early? I need to talk to you about something.
Is everything OK?
Maybe. Just come early.
Crap. Not Dallas, too. I didn’t want to let him draw it out so I only arrived fifteen minutes early.
Julia was the only one in the office.
“Where’s Dallas?” I asked.
“He’s out doing
surveys in the park. I have no idea where.”
“Of course. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
She shrugged. “We’ve all done stupid things when drunk. Please don’t be too mad at him.”
“What did he do?”
She frowned. I knew she was trying to decide whether or not she should tell me.
“He’ll tell you.”
It must be bad. Maybe I should tell Grant that I had a headache and couldn’t work tonight. In light of recent events, he’d probably be okay with that.
I looked at Julia.
“In my mind it’s probably a thousand times worse than it actually is. Tell me, please.”
The phone rang.
“I have to answer that.”
I left the office and went to the locker room. What the hell did Dallas do at that party? I clocked in a bit early and headed into the park, hoping to meet him. He was nowhere to be seen.
Angelica sent me to entrance person, which sucked because it was an isolated position. I couldn’t talk to anyone. From there I was sent to exit loader. Becca grinned at me like she had some secret, but she didn’t say anything. Again, I was away from everyone.
An hour later, I was standing in the Fast Lane and Becca was doing entrance loader. She looked at me and smiled. The skin around her eye was black and blue. I briefly wondered what happened, but focused on my own problems instead. Something had happened at the party last night. Becca would tell me, especially if she thought it would hurt me.
I waited for her to come back from loading.
“What happened last night?” I asked.
She grinned slyly at me. “I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”
“Come on, I know Dallas did something stupid but I don’t know what it is.”
“Oh, it wasn’t stupid.”
She waited until just before she had to go load the next train.
“We made love last night.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks.
She was lying, she had to be.
As soon as she was back, I grilled her.
“I think I misheard you. Did you say you’d slept with Dallas?”
“I did.” She sighed and a dreamy smile spread on her lips. “He was wonderful, course you already know that. I can see why you tried to keep him all to yourself.”
Bittersweet Page 17
