Not Enough

by Mia Hoddell

  “I’m still sorry. You shouldn’t have to rescue me.” She’s staring at the pavement, refusing to meet my gaze and twisting her hands in front of her. She seems so fragile in that second, like the weight of the whole world is resting on her back, causing her shoulders to hunch and her head to hang. Knowing her, she’s probably thinking about all of the other times I’ve picked her up because she wasn’t enjoying herself. Not once have I minded.

  “Stripes, look at me,” I say as gently as possible, but she doesn’t respond to my words. Rather than force her to look at me, I crouch down so I’m almost kneeling and gaze up at her, taking her hands in mine to still them. “You have nothing to be sorry about, you hear me?” I squeeze her hands. “I’ll always be there for you, no matter what. You don’t need to worry about putting me out. Please never think that … because something happening to you is thousands of times worse than a cancelled date. Okay?”

  Another tear trickles from her eye, and releasing one of her hands, I brush it away with my thumb while moving to stand. Her head follows me until we are facing each other, my hand lingering on her jaw. I think it’s instinct and a need for comfort that causes her to lean her face into it.

  “Are you ready to head home?”

  Neve nods and I wrap my arm loosely around her shoulders, placing a kiss on the top of her head while keeping her close to me. When we reach my car, I walk her to the passenger’s side, but pause before opening it.

  “What about Cece?” I ask, but Neve only snorts. She seems to have calmed on the walk over, the shock wearing off.

  “Leave her, I’m through with her. If something happens then it’s her own fault.” The venom in Neve’s words stuns me, my eyebrows arching in surprise and question, needing her to explain further. However, she doesn’t say any more. Turning she opens the car door, and slides into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll explain on the drive home,” she murmurs reluctantly when I don’t move or allow her to close the door.

  Knowing it’s the best I’m going to get, I walk round to the driver’s side. Starting the engine, I fire up the heat since Neve looks cold, but I don’t press for answers just yet. My mind is still trying to figure out what Neve’s latest revelation will mean for her. Slowly she’s been cutting everyone off, and Cece was the last female friend she had. A part of me is worried that she’s isolating herself, but the majority has agreed with her so far. Everyone she’s left behind was for a good reason. Nobody else sees it, but Neve is better off without them, and I’m sure when I hear the explanation about Cece—which no doubt involves the guy from earlier—I will side with Neve again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Neve

  The minutes of silence drag on while I collect my thoughts. The heater has thawed my frozen fingers, enabling them to work again, and I pick at the bottom of my dress to avoid meeting eyes with Blake. I’m still embarrassed about the situation, but I’m thankful he came. It may not have been totally necessary, seeing as I would have been safe in the taxi, yet Blake’s presence is reassuring. I may not be acting like I’m thankful or happy he’s around, but inside I feel calmer.

  We drive down the darkened country lanes, and Blake’s face is only dimly illuminated by the glow from the dashboard. When I summon the nerve to glance across, he looks relatively composed, but I can tell he’s waiting for me to speak. I would have told him by now, yet I don’t know what to say. It’s easy to see he’s worried about me. The sidelong glances he probably thinks I haven’t noticed are enough of a clue.

  How can I reassure him when I can’t even reassure myself?

  Sitting here, all I can think of is that slowly I am losing everyone around me. Not all of it is my doing, but how can I not partly blame myself? There has to be a linking factor that is driving people away, and all my mind can come up with is me. Every friend I’ve ever had I’ve lost contact with. Some I were happy to let go; we were too different to work it out and only friends due to the fact there were only fourteen people in my class—the joys of country schools. However, some of them I tried to remain friends with. Over and over I messaged them to ask them to meet up. Regardless, there’s only so long I can keep trying before I get the message. Constant ‘nos’ or a lack of replies aren’t hard to figure out that they want nothing to do with me … I only wish I knew for certain why.

  When I see them all come back for the holidays and ‘forget’ to invite me to meet up, when they ignore my messages, and when they start unfriending me on Facebook I can’t help but take the hint. What I did to them is still unknown, but allowing myself to think about them only brings me down. Cece’s been added to that list by throwing my friendship back in my face and I’m sure I’ll be better off without her.

  If I had to guess why people leave, I’d say it’s because I’m too different. I don’t like the things they do, and I’m too wrapped up in trying to make a career for myself as a graphic designer. It’s true that I didn’t hang out with them as much throughout college. I was focused on my grades and the last thing I thought they’d do was abandon me for that.

  Nevertheless, the truth of the matter is they did, and now I only have Blake left. It’s a strange feeling to know that. It manifests the thought I’m not good enough, or that there’s something wrong with me. It’s like all of my friendships have an expiration date, and after about six years that’s it. I can’t help but worry Blake will figure out I’m not worth it, too … even though he’s stuck around for twenty already.

  I sigh heavily and Blake turns to glance at me. I know he’s going to break the silence now since I’ve been sighing too much for him to ignore.

  “Stripes? Do you feel like talking yet?”

  Without realising it, my mouth tilts up at the corners in response to Blake’s nickname for me. He’s using it to try and ease the tension, and I should hate it—I normally do—but it’s comforting in a strange way.

  He chuckles. “I knew you actually liked Stripes.”

  “I don’t, it’s an annoying name that should have been left behind in primary school.”

  “Nah, it’s a cute name and it suits you.”

  “How does it suit me? I’m not stripey.” I screw my nose up, remembering the day he gave me the nickname. Even today I don’t know how it stuck, yet Blake’s the only one who’s allowed to get away with using it.

  “No, but you were when I invented it.”

  The tension seeps from my body as he continues to distract me. My shoulders are falling, relaxing into the cushioned seats, and I lean my head back. The darkness that’s been clouding my mind is beginning to lift. “It wasn’t my fault I fell over and covered myself in mud.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Positive. I’m still planning on proving you were the one to trip me.”

  He snickers. “Well good luck with that,” he pauses and deliberately glances across at me, “Stripes.”

  I try to appear irritated, but a laugh breaks free. I don’t even realise we’ve pulled into my driveway. Blake kills the engine, immersing us in darkness seeing as my mum hasn’t switched the porch light on. Typical.

  “You feel like watching a movie?” I ask before thinking. “Sorry, you probably want to get back to your date or have better things to do.” I ramble while moving to open the door. Blake’s hand encircles my wrist gently, stopping me from going any further.

  “Will you stop apologising? If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

  “Sorry …”

  He lets out an exasperated sound. “What did I just say?”

  “All right, all right. I’ll stop.” I accept his statement grudgingly because I feel bad for dampening the mood he worked so hard to lift.

  “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  I nod, but I don’t know why I’m agreeing with him. It hasn’t crossed my mind until now, but Mum won’t be in bed yet, and the fact I’m home early will probably set her off. I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s my mum for you. She wants me to party and drink, thinking it’ll
make me normal. She doesn’t understand that it’s my idea of hell. When I go out, she expects me to be out all night. I’ve never really figured out why; I think it’s because everyone else does it. To me, I’d have thought as a parent she’d rather her kid didn’t come home pissed at five in the morning. However, like I just said, my mum isn’t normal. In fact I’m pretty sure she has a split personality. That isn’t a medical diagnosis, just my opinion based on the fact she can be nice to everyone but me. Her mood can change with the click of her fingers; one minute she’s angry at me and the next her false happiness shines through because she sees or hears from a friend.

  Sighing, I step from the car and pull out my keys. As if sensing my thoughts, Blake is suddenly next to me. He drapes his arm across my shoulders and rests his cheek on my head.

  “It’ll be fine, just remember my offer still stands. You don’t have to put up with any of this,” he says as we walk up on to the porch. He squeezes me once and then releases his grip so I can unlock the door. The keys rattle and jingle as they knock against the metal lock, and I push it open gently, hoping Mum is upstairs and we can creep by unnoticed.

  As per usual though, luck is never on my side. Bent over, I have one hand against the wall to help me keep my balance and I’m tugging on the heel of my shoe when I hear her voice. “I thought you were staying out all night.”

  “Change of plans. We’re going to watch a movie instead.”

  “Honestly, Neve, sometimes I worry about you,” she says, sounding weary.

  I bite my tongue to stop myself from speaking the spiteful retort forming in my mind. She may say she worries, but it’s not for any of the reasons a person would dream up. The only thing she’s worried about is that I don’t look normal and she can’t understand how I can be quite happy on my own.

  “You don’t even look like you’ve been to a club, and I thought it was Cece you left with. What’s Blake doing here?”

  “Listen, Mum, I’ve had a bad night and Blake helped me out. All I want to do is curl up and watch a movie with a friend. Please can we go upstairs without an argument?” I cringe as soon as I finish speaking, knowing I’ve said the wrong thing.

  “We’re not arguing. I’m trying to show my concern, and once again you’re being ungrateful. Am I not allowed to be concerned about my daughter? Am I not allowed to take an interest in your well-being?”

  “Yes, of course you are. Please just let us go watch a movie.” I don’t want to argue, but once Mum starts she’s impossible to stop until she gets everything off her chest. It doesn’t matter whether I stay quiet or fight back, it’s like she’s on a collision course; you can see it coming and can do nothing to save yourself except prepare your mind and accept it.

  “It’s not healthy, Neve. This behaviour … it isn’t right. You should be out having fun, not cooped up in your room doing nothing.”

  I pause, my foot on the first step of the stairs. Blake stumbles at my abrupt halt, his hand landing on my back and his feet shuffling to avoid bowling us both over. Turning, I face my mum. I will probably regret it as soon as I’ve called her on what she’s just said, but I can’t let it go. Telling me I do nothing when I’m working constantly to try and start up a business is one of the few things I can’t tolerate. She’s called me every name under the sun and I’ve taken it, but for some reason this one statement always riles me. The familiar anger burns through my body as I look upon her with disgust.

  “I do nothing? Is that what you really think of me? Today I’ve sent out a hundred emails, created ten spread sheets, added the final designs to my website, gone out with Blake, and that was all before going out with Cece! How is that doing nothing?”

  “You know I don’t mean it like that. Why do you always twist my words? I know you’re doing work, but you’re just wasting your life up there. You should be experiencing things.”

  “What do you really mean then, Mum?”

  “You’re not experiencing anything. You’re not seeing anything other than your computer screen and that’s not healthy. You need human interaction … to socialise. People your age experience new things all the time, but you don’t.” Resentment is starting to build in her eyes, her voice rising with every sentence that spills from her mouth.

  “What am I meant to be experiencing in this shitty little town? I’ve lived here for twenty-one years and nothing has changed in that time span.”

  “Go sit in a coffee shop or something, I don’t care as long as you’re around people. It’s better than being alone.”

  “For you maybe, I’m quite happy with my own company,” I murmur with an eye roll.

  “It’s not the right way to live—”

  “What is the right way then? To come home drunk every night with a different guy? Or how about the next time I go out and a guy tries to take advantage of me before attempting to pull me out of the club against my will, I let him? Is that what you’d rather me do?” I choke on the words, fighting back the tears that are creeping up my eyes. It’s not because of the memory, it’s the fact I know that’s what she’d rather me do.

  What I don’t expect is for her face to drop momentarily in shock, her eyes clearing of the anger they held only moments ago. It’s only a flicker of emotion before her face twists with annoyance once more.

  “Do you honestly think I’d wish that upon you?”

  I shrug, fed up of the conversation, and begin to shut down. I’ve said my piece, anything else will only drag the conversation around in a circle. Mum will argue until she knocks herself out from lack of oxygen, even if her words don’t make sense. Not fighting back ends it quicker. You let her run her course and save yourself the hassle. It’s a lesson I’ve taken years to learn, but now I’m the master of shutting down and she hates it.

  “Do you, Neve? Is that what you think of me?” Her pitch is rising as she becomes more irate.

  “Why can’t you just accept I’m happy how I am and leave it at that?” I keep my voice at a normal level, not wanting to provoke her. Okay, maybe I’m not a master just yet, but in my defence the night’s events have weakened me.

  “Because it’s not right!” she screams at me. As I watch her face redden and her eyes darken, something inside of me breaks. With Blake still standing at my shoulder I feel I have the courage to end this and be strong enough to walk away.

  “Don’t hold back, Mum, you aren’t hurting me or anything.”

  “I’m your parent, Neve, I’m going to say things you don’t like. If you don’t hate me then I’m not doing my job. I’m not going to walk around on eggshells and censor myself because you’re being oversensitive. You should know I love you, so be smart enough to determine what I mean when I say certain things.”

  I’ve had numerous confrontations with her over whether my attitude and personality are correct. Each time she batters my emotions into making me think I’ve done something wrong … that it’s my fault. Deep down I know it’s not, but when a person hears something enough it’s hard not to believe. I take a deep breath, holding it in to stop myself blurting out the first response that comes to mind. It also helps control the shaking that’s beginning.

  “Okay,” I say through exhaling and begin to climb the stairs. The wave of emotions building inside of me is painfully constricting around my heart. I’m losing the battle with my tears. The pressure inside of me builds with the growing list of names she’s called me that won’t stop repeating inside my mind.

  Quickening my steps, I ignore her rant behind me and keep moving, not wanting her to see me cry.

  “That’s it, run away again, Neve! That solves all of your problems, doesn’t it? I can’t discuss anything with you.”

  I reach my room and burst through the door, the wood slamming against the wall with a crash. Blake is close on my heels, but I ignore him, reaching under my bed for a suitcase, which I throw on to the mattress.

  “You meant what you said, didn’t you?” My throat is dry, making the words hoarse. I watch him in hope, my eyes p
leading with him not to claim it was all a big joke.

  “Of course I meant it, but are you sure you want to leave like this? I can stay the night if you’re worried about her, and then see if you feel the same when you wake up. I don’t want you making a rash decision.”

  Perplexed, I gaze at him. “I thought you wanted me out of here? You were the one telling me I needed to leave.”

  “I know.” He reaches up to rub his jaw and his eyes look strained. “I only wanted to make sure this is what you want.”

  “It’s what I need, Blake. I can’t deal with her constant scrutiny or her judgemental comments that attack who I am any longer. There was no reason for her to say all of that.” I throw my hand at the door angrily then pause, stopping myself from saying more. “Can you help me pack so we can get out of here?”

  He nods, wordlessly moving over to a drawer that is full of my tops while I head for my wardrobe. Neither of us bothers with folding as we chuck items at the case. I know it’ll cause more work for me when I reach Blake’s, but for now all I’m focused on is getting out of the house as quickly as possible.

  This moment is everything I knew it would be. I’d created numerous situations over the years while waiting to finally be old enough to strike out on my own, and all were like this. For years I’ve dreamed of freedom and how I would revel in telling Mum I wouldn’t be coming back in a calm manner. I had hundreds of scripts locked away, all planning in great detail what I would say, how she’d respond, and had even gone as far as scripting her facial expressions.

  I assumed my decision would arrive in the middle of an argument that would trigger something in my mind, waking me up to the reality I didn’t have to put up with her anymore. Yet I wanted it to be rational. I wanted to cut Mum with words like she has me, stay calm, and leave.

  It was always an unrealistic expectation.