by Lya Lively
“You’re burning him,” My mother cried out, dropping to the ground beside me while the tears streamed down my face.
He waved her off like an insect that simply bothered him and nothing more. It was my fault; I should’ve stayed back in my room. “It was an accident,” I cried to his defense, hoping she wouldn’t kick him out again. Last time she kicked him out she threatened to call the police, and we didn’t see him for two entire months.
She sat in front of me, pushing her disheveled dishwater blonde mop back from her reddened face, looking into my eyes with such pain that it physically strained her body. Her once bright blue irises now looked dull as if the very light behind them had been snuffed out from years of abuse.
“No,” she whispered caressing my face, “none of this is your fault, sweetheart.”
Dad was about to say something, but she cut him off, “No,” she snapped, but her voice wavered from pain, fear and hesitation, “I think you need to go.” She refused to look him in the eye, but when he brought his hand up threateningly, she hid me behind her and moved her face away, shielding herself behind her wild hair as if it would soften a blow. He didn’t hit her, just laughed before grabbing his guitar and slinging it over his back before he disappeared.
I reached out to stop him, “Dad,” I choked out, but it was already too late. He was gone.
After the paralyzing pain of what had transpired subsided, my mother ran cool water over my burn until the stinging faded into a dull ache that would radiate in my chest for years to come. Cameron came over to where I sat on the couch and looked at my burn with his face contorted in pain as if he could physically feel the wound on his own flesh.
“Does it hurt?” He asked quietly, and it was hard to imagine that he was the older of the two of us. He didn’t only take after our mother in appearance, but also in her timid nature.
“Kinda,” I admitted, but I didn’t let the pain show.
He nodded before going over to our mom and rubbing her shoulders gently with his small hands. “I’m sorry about him,” he mumbled, his voice still cracked from him crying, and I couldn’t help but think of how weak he was. I never wanted to be like him... like any of them.
***
As much as I hated to admit it, I was my father and now, my anger and resentment putrefying in my heart until I was nothing but rage. I was the one who should have been apologizing. The idea turned my stomach.
I don’t deserve happiness.
I picked up my phone from my dresser that was vibrating against the wood, a message from Chloe lit up on the screen. I slid my thumb up and down the edge of the small LCD.
SIX
Hayden
I sank down on the small loveseat in the living room, picking at a loose thread from the seam of my jeans. The last place I wanted to be was in the common area of our apartment and having to look at Noah, but Cameron thought it would be good for me to show him that he didn’t bother me and I wouldn’t be scared away that easily. The truth was, I had nowhere left to run. I couldn’t pick up and leave every time someone hurt my feelings.
Kara showed up a little over an hour later while Noah and Cameron were on the sofa watching a boring superhero movie that I couldn’t force myself to enjoy. It had all the potential of being a box office hit, but I guess it wasn’t in the budget.
Noah hadn’t spoken a word to me since his temper tantrum, but his eyes had cut to me several times, and I did my best to ignore him, keeping my gaze plastered on the television. He couldn’t have just been mad about having a roommate; that kind of anger doesn’t just spark out of nowhere. Even a lighter takes a few clicks before you can get a good flame going. But it wasn’t my place to ask what his problem was.
“Hey, guys,” Kara sang cheerfully as she came in the door. The guys mumbled back their greetings, and her gaze fell to me with a sympathetic smile.
I waved to her awkwardly as I pushed from the couch and made my way into the kitchen to grab a few chips from the bag on the counter. “Hi.”
“Oh hey, girl, I’m glad you’re here. How long have they been watching those dumb superhero movies?” She asked, pointing at the television as she sneered.
“Too long,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“Well,” She said gleefully directing her attention back at me. “How would you like to go and hang out with some other females? The girls and I were about to go out, maybe doing a little bowling and grab a bite to eat.”
“I had some errands to run,” I lied, my smile becoming forced. “Isn’t it getting late though? For bowling I mean.” I didn’t want to be rude, but the idea of meeting more new people didn’t exactly sound like fun.
“No,” she checked her phone, “It’s only four-thirty, but we could do something else.”
I shot a glance over at the boys; Noah was staring back intently forcing my eyes to dart to the ground. Anything would be better than having to dodge his glare. “No, it’s whatever,” I replied, never feeling so alone.
***
“The loneliest moment in someone’s life,” I read carefully, feeling the words beneath my thumb as it stroked the page, “is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” F. Scott Fitzgerald was an undeniable genius when it came to his creation of The Great Gatsby.
I shut the book with a sigh while I refused to look up at my mirror. I almost found a sort of discomfort looking at my reflection.
“Hayden,” A voice called from deep inside the house from a floor below my bedroom where I sat. Instinctively I looked up; I caught my own eyes in the reflective glass.
“Yeah, mom?” I spoke just loudly enough to be heard, my mind distracted by my own face. It had the same oval shape as my mother's, framed evenly by long brown hair that spilled curls across my small chest; I even had the same pale lips and a small nose. Was it possible to receive the box but not its contents? For my sake, I hoped so.
“You need to get this laundry out of the dryer.”
“Okay, I’ll be down in a second.” I stood up slowly as if in a trance, I took graceful steps toward the dark mirror-dresser combo. It didn’t help that I wore her dress, the blue various-print down that hung just down to my knees, the one she had worn to prom with ruffles at the bottom. I hated it but topped with my pink scarf you almost couldn’t tell.
Pink. It fit my face nicely; if only my hair- “Not later, now.” She called up again, frustration growing in her tone.
“I’m coming,” I said quickly throwing the scarf onto my bed alongside the novel and shutting my bedroom door behind me.
Taking the steps two at a time I began a conversation with her, “So mom, what would you think about me dying my hair?” I grabbed an empty white laundry basket from the bottom of the steps and made my way to the laundry room.
“Dammit, Hayden. You’re not dying your hair, do you understand me?”
“Mom, I wasn’t saying that I’m planning on it, I was just wondering what you would think,” I explained.
She sighed heavily, her strawberry hair revealing brown roots “I don’t know. What were you thinking about doing? Highlights? You gave me no details to go off of.”
“I don’t know, I was thinking of maybe changing the color,” I said as I pulled slightly wrinkled clothing out of the dryer, dropping the pieces that didn’t need to be folded immediately into my basket and folding the rest. “Like maybe a blond or a red...?” My voice trailed off as I waited for a response.
I could feel her rolling her eyes as she sighed again. “I’ll tell you what; if you ever even consider dying your hair I will personally kill you.”
“Well,” I mumbled to myself, bleeding disappointment, “Thanks for putting thought in it to spare my feelings.”
***
“Ladies,” Cameron called from the living room startling me back into reality. I nearly squealed, yet again. “I don’t talk through your chick flicks, you don’t interrupt my man picks,” he sang. “Agreed?”
“You s
o talk through my chick flicks,” Kara shot back, annoyed.
“Yeah, and I don’t watch them. Therefore, your argument is invalid,” I replied, shaking off the memory of my mother.
He shushed us irritably and turned up the TV while Kara and I laughed.
“Good,” she continued, bringing her voice down to a whisper. “You’re going to love them,” She squealed.
SEVEN
Hayden
The first of several best friends I had the pleasure of meeting was Kimberly Anderson. She had an athletic build with long blonde hair that made her olive-tone skin pop. Dressed in all pink, she looked like a model for Barbie.
The other friend was Alesha Green. Her pixie cut hair was the same vibrant blue as her eyes, complimenting her dark complexion. She wore a vintage Superman T-shirt that I was instantly jealous of, even though I hated the movies because my father was always a fan. Both girls were a different physical representation of stunning and chic.
It was clear that they were party girls by the way they walked into a room with such astounding confidence and optimism, though they both looked like they attended very different types of gatherings.
The conversation turned to boys almost immediately, a topic I knew very little about.
“So, Hayden,” Kara began as the girls all directed their attention toward me, making me feel self-conscious. “What do you think about Noah?”
“He’s... different,” I stammered, thinking back to how I initially liked him when we met in the hall, but how quickly he’d showed me another side of himself, a much angrier side.
“Yeah,” Kimberly interjected, “but he’s totally hot, right?” she asked with a laugh, and I got the feeling she didn’t really need a response.
“Does he have anything else going for him besides his pretty face?”
“Oh yeah,” Alesha joined in, a sly smile spread across her lips, but her blue eyes stayed glued to the table. “Definitely more than just a pretty face. Have you seen his arms?”
Again, they all laughed. These are the type of girls that would have turned down Eric before getting to know him. Even after all of this time I was protective of the boy who used to eat alone at lunch. Of course, he wasn’t that little boy anymore, and he wasn’t exactly a victim. I got the feeling neither was Noah.
The longest a roommate has stuck around is three weeks. As the words replayed over in my head, I cringed inwardly. Maybe I didn’t want to get to know what was inside of that overly attractive head of his. It would be better to keep my distance.
A blonde-haired guy walked by, ramming his hip into the corner of our table while his eyes glued to the screen of his cell phone. The iced coffee in Kim’s hand splashed up her arm, causing her to squeal loudly. He apologized immediately, and even though she wore a scowl on her face, Kim accepted it as she blotted the mess with a few napkins left on the table. I glanced around to see if anyone was staring at us after her loud outburst, but everyone else seemed oblivious to anything going on around them. My eyes cut to the counter where I had met Drew, but behind the cash register stood an older woman with jet black hair and a nose ring.
To my left was a young couple, two guys, who looked like they were on their first date. The thinner of the two was unable to stop fidgeting, and his leg was jumping under the table so much I thought he was going to cause a sinkhole. But their mutual attraction was evident, and I hoped to feel the gravitational pull of someone else one day.
Next to them was a little girl waiting for her mom, at the counter ordering, whom she shot frequent glances at in between moments of watching the door for intruders. She looked about twelve, blonde hair, gold eyes and a large gap between her front teeth. Her mom was on her phone, arguing with someone on the other end of a custody battle.
There were other groups around us too, just conversing. Some were having intellectual battles about whether or not time travel was indeed possible. I wanted desperately to join in because one of them was so stupid it was unreal. Another group, farther away, was checking out a group that was also checking them out.
Looking around I saw all of these people, all waiting for something. The girl for her mom, the young couple for the other to make their first move, the girls for the guys and the guys for the girls, the mom for her husband to tell her he loves her, the nerds for a legit answer. Everyone was waiting, but nobody was making things happen, and that bothered me. I almost swore my father rolled over in his grave to yell at me, and then reality struck. A girl from one of the other tables threw her head back laughing, “Ugh, Sara! I’m gonna kill you!”
That’s when I felt it, the familiar tightening in my chest and twisting of worry in my gut. It felt like I had flown too close to a black hole and that it was sucking me in, leaving no traces of light behind in my absence. The past consumed me. The harder I try to forget the harder it pushes me back to remember. It’s like a rubber band. I keep tugging and tugging, testing my strength and my limits, and then I let go, and everything comes flooding back.
It’s that split second that I almost believe in the dream I’m creating for myself that the band brings me all the way back to where I started, stronger each time, more painful.
I’m not sure if I should be anticipating the fall or the break; because at any moment, I feel like I could do both.
***
“Hayden,” he whispered, enunciating each word slowly as he spoke, “your mom’s going to kill you this time.”
“So she says,” I replied, running my fingers through my long red hair. “I don’t even see what her problem was; all Aunt Karen did was take me to get my ears pierced. I was thirteen!”
He continued looking at me, not sure if he was disappointed in me or if he liked it too. “Yeah well, this time you’re really-,”
“Look, Eric,” I said grabbing his hands and staring into his eyes to show him I meant business. “I get it; she’s going to be pissed like she always is and yell like she always does; can’t you just, for once, be on my side?”
He stared at me for a moment before rolling his eyes and giving up his fight. “You look really pretty,” he conceded.
I smiled proudly at him, twirling, so my dress swayed at the bottom, “Doesn’t it?” I gushed.
I turned back to the mirror that hung on his wall, the one his grandma had given him when he was ten just before she got sick, beaming at my new image before my skin went pale.
“What’s wrong?” He asked from behind me while placing a hand on my shoulder.
I hesitated, taking in what I had done, “You don’t-,” I whispered. “You don’t think I look like her, do you?” From the red hair to the high cheekbones, her long eyelashes and short stature, I was undeniably becoming my mother.
He sucked in his lips, chewing on the insides of them; it was a nervous habit he picked up in fifth grade when his dog, Sheriff, passed away, and he didn’t want to talk about it. It was a sign that he didn’t want to say the wrong thing to make a situation worse. But this time, I just wanted it straight. “Maybe a little, why?” His voice shook from the confession.
I held the tips of my hair tight between my finger and thumb and stared at myself with a frown. “Do you think she’ll like it?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
“Hayden Ann Harlow, I think you’re beautiful, and nothing else should matter,” his voice cracked, muscles tensed beneath his t-shirt as he stiffened at his confession.
I stared silently at our reflections standing side-by-side through the small, oval mirror framed with a plainly decorated silver lining and gold trim. The glass was fogged and scratched in some places, from what I may never know, but it helped distract me from the few tears that did glide down my cheek. I let my eyes travel back to his worried expression and smiled, “Okay, Eric,” was all I could manage to say.
He forced a fake smile, his body relaxing again. “Alright, Hayden.”
Even with my own sadness I could never understand why he was so choked up at that moment, his voice cracking and expression pai
ned. I knew he cared for me and I for him, but it was still odd to me, even then, just how much he must have sacrificed for our friendship.
***
“Earth to Hayden.”
I looked up at them; all three of the girls stared back at me and caused me to shift in my seat. “Oh,” I could feel myself blushing, “Sorry, I kinda zoned out.” I rubbed my eyes, stifling a yawn.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Kara said back with a sympathetic smile. “You okay?” She mouthed.
I nodded uncomfortably, “So what’s everyone drinking?”
Noah
“Can you toss me a Happy Drink?” I called from the sofa to my brother who had his head inside of my fridge, rummaging for something to eat.
He hesitated a moment, holding the fridge door open, “Dude,” he said slowly. “I get it that things are tough right now, but I am not giving you alcohol,” he glanced over the top of the door. “Mom would kill both of us if she came over and you’re wasted.”
I just stared back at him for a good minute, “dumbass,” I said shaking my head. “They’re on the bottom shelf; it’s juice.”
He squinted at me in disbelief before checking, “Oh,” his slouched body said from behind the door. “Red or blue?”
I thought for a minute, “both.”
“Good choice,” he said closing the fridge door and coming back over to sit beside me. “So,” he started.
“Yeah?”
“What do you think about Hayden?” He asked casually while slurping his blue juice, a trail of liquid ran over his chin and left tiny blue splatters on his t-shirt.
I shook my head and turned back to the television, pretending to be deeply invested in the show that was one, even though I had no idea what was going on. “What about her? What is this show even about?”
“You know, like... what do you think?”
