I keep dancing and try to ignore their dry humping and utter obnoxiousness near me. If it weren’t for the fact that every few minutes I notice him watching me, I would think he was totally in to her. I’m not so convinced.
“Eww, is that my brother?” Jem finally notices the two lovebirds and scrunches her nose at them.
“It is just wrong to see one’s brother in such a state. I need to wash out my eyes.” She walks away, shaking her head in an aggravated gesture. Melody keeps dancing with anyone around her. I feel hands on my waist. I turn to see Nick, so I smile up at him. He is really tall, but we seem to have fun. We have danced before so we fall into a rhythm quickly—close, but not so close that it feels wrong.
I look over at Jett again, and he is fuming, furiously moving with his dance partner, who is completely eating it up. Clueless that one. I start dancing with Nick a little faster just to piss him off because it’s funny as hell. Payback’s a bee-see, isn’t it? After a few more dances with Nick, who is a really good dancer, I walk away, needing a break.
Water. Sweet holy mother of water.
As I grab a bottle out of the cooler and take a long swig, I feel fingers digging into my arm painfully.
“So you are just a little slut now, aren’t you? I knew you always were, but tonight I got my proof. Making out with one guy one minute, rubbing up against another the next. Typical.”
I whip around to see the sneer on Jett’s face.
W.T.Hell?
“Who do you think you are? Don’t talk to me! Don’t look at me! Don’t come near me!” Shocked by my outburst I suddenly freeze. Who is this girl who has suddenly body-snatched me? I never would have had the guts to say that to Jett’s face six months ago. Now it’s all I can do not to take a swing at his snarling face. “You’re one to talk, Jett. Really? After that show with Kendal, I feel like I should pay you for that. Or wash out my eyes.”
“Don’t tell me you actually like that guy. What’s his name, Reed? Are you kidding me with him? Do you actually think you love him?” He scoffs while we face off, toe to toe. “Whore,” he says under his breath.
“Don’t call me that! Yes, I do love him.” Suddenly calm, I continue, “He loves me, and it’s none of your damn business.” I turn to walk away when I hear him mutter something not worthy of repeating.
I’m pissed and need a distraction so I pour a beer from the keg. Grabbing the girls, I continue to dance while trying to ignore the nagging in my brain that says, “I shouldn’t be drinking.” I don’t care. I want to be free from everything—my mother, my ex, my own expectations of keeping everything together all the time, the feeling that I’m never going to be good enough for Reed. All of it.
I drink and dance it away.
Nick continues to linger while dancing with me, acting as a buffer between Jett and me. Thankfully, I notice Jett start making out with Kendal against a tree at some point. I can tell what is going to happen with that on a night like this. Not surprised. Good riddance to them both.
After a while, I need to take another breather so I head over for water and walk out of the tree line. There are some beautiful trails here that look over the water, so I make my way up to the face of a rock to get a better shot. My head is spinning a little, and I stumble before I finally sit on the boulder for the view. I hear twigs snapping behind me, and I look around to see Nick. I feel a jolt of fear before the alcohol dulls the feeling.
It’s just Nick. How many classes have I had with him? He lives next door for crying out loud! He is tall but never intimidating. He’s dated around, but no one has had a bad word to say about him.
What’s there to fear?
“Hey, I saw you escape. Thought you might want some company?” He settles down beside me, pressing his side to mine. I get a little uncomfortable because as much as I love to dance with people, I really do love Reed. We might not be officially together, but I’m his in my heart. When I look over at him, he looks hopeful. His blond hair is falling into his eyes, but I resist pushing it away because that might encourage him. I look straight ahead.
“Thanks. It was getting to be a bit much. I had a lot to drink, and it was all starting to spin a little.” I try to laugh to ease the tension.
“It is beautiful out here. I love the lake. Wanna get a closer look?”
I shrug as he stands, holding his hand out for me. I pretend not to see it as I walk past him toward the path. We lumber down the sand toward the lake’s edge, both stumbling from too much beer. He has to hold on to my arm several times as I stumble on the uneven path. I’ve definitely had too much to drink, and I bump into him on more than one occasion. He seems to be enjoying the contact, but I’m starting to get annoyed.
We stand at the edge of the beach, looking out on the lake in silence. He clears his voice. “So did you like my letters? The bracelet …”
That’s a beyond strange thing to say. I freeze a little. I’m confused as I look over at him; his face is impassive and unreadable. Letters? Bracelet? He can’t mean my charm bracelet, can he? I got that before I really knew him … on my front porch … across the street from him.
Suddenly nervous as the pieces fall together, I’m still rather confused as to why. “Wh-what do you mean?”
He suddenly looks annoyed. Gone is his easy smile as he takes a step closer, his movements deliberate. “The letters I have been writing you and leaving in your locker? Your purse? The windshield? I know you’ve gotten them.”
It takes my mind a moment to catch up. The only letters I have gotten were from Reed. Or at least I thought they were from Reed. Reed has also given me letters by leaving them in my books or on my car windshield. But there were none from Nick.
Or were they all from Nick? Letters with poems, letters with riddles, letters that describe everything that is beautiful about me. Letters filled with descriptions of my face and body and laugh—they now seem threatening. Were they all from Nick? I barely know Nick.
Nick has stepped so close I have to back up a little to look up at his face. He really is quite tall so it is hard to do drunk, and I sway a little. He touches my wrist, the one with the bracelet. “You mean to tell me I have been writing you letters all year, and you have had no idea they are from me? I find that hard to believe, Dannie … Stop playing games; it’s getting old fast.” He grips my wrist tightly, too tightly; it hurts.
“What games? What’s your problem?” I’m confused still, but I’m starting to realize that I do have a reason to feel fear now. I look around on the beach, noticing that we are completely alone and on the other side of the ridge from the party.
Anger flashes in his face. “What games? Really, Dannie? That dick head you used to date! Throwing him in my face … and that boy who follows you around like a lost puppy! I’m sick of it! Stop playing with me …”
I stare, stunned, before he continues more quietly, obviously trying to control his temper. “I notice you looking at me in class. I know you love the bracelet, the letters … This thing between us, it won’t go away. You made me who I am. What I am! I haven’t forgotten!” He leans in, breathing in my ear. “No one will stop this … Not that asshole you dated for too many years, not that boy. It’s okay. I forgive you for them. We will start over. Every couple has their rough patches … I understand.” He throws me down in the sand and sits on my legs, my arms still in his grip against my chest. I can’t breathe he is so heavy, but I squirm.
“Nick, what are you doing? What’s wrong with you?”
He hits me, and I freeze with terror.
“Don’t worry, my blue-eyed girl. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
I see his eyes, and something in them looks frightening, maybe even mad. Either way, my skin crawls. “We are meant to be together, Dannie. I have waited long enough; it’s time for us to be together, babe.” His lips are suddenly on me, drowning out my protest. I’m frozen; as much as I want to fight, there is something like a cage, a vice in my mind, and I can’t break free. Tears fall from my face freel
y as I start sobbing.
No. No. No. No. No.
God, please get me out of this. Help me …
As he struggles against me, lifting up my dress, he makes quick work of what he is doing, controlling and forceful, quite at odds with the strange words he repeats, telling me how much he loves me, how I need him, how this is my fault, that I made him do this, that I belong to him, I’m his …
No. No. No. No. No.
I burn while he whispers, “You’re mine, Dannie. You’re mine. We’ll always be together, baby …”
I fade him out. I can’t hear.
I disappear. Years of abuse have trained my mind to do one thing: crawl inside myself and disappear. I’m shaking uncontrollably while I hear someone loudly sobbing. I’m frozen, but I’m still burning. I can hear someone saying, “No,” over and over, but I feel nothing but empty.
I stare out into the night and try to think of nothing, try to be nothing. That’s what my mother taught me—to disappear.
When the fog lifts, I realize I’m alone again, not really knowing how much time has passed. He’s gone, but I’m afraid he will come back or that he might be close by. I tremble as I pull my dress back in place with shaking hands. I can’t see well because I can’t seem to stop the constant flow of tears. Loud sobs rack my body to the point of aching pain as I fall to my knees and hurl. I throw up until there is nothing left but dry heaves and sobbing. I see my bracelet from the corner of my sandy eyes and frantically tear it off my wrist. I throw it as far as I can as if it were burning me.
I stumble up the path back to the party, staying outside the tree line to get to my car without being seen. I start my car and drive away from the party. I drive without much conscious thought to Reed’s field before I crawl in the backseat of the car and cry myself to sleep, hoping never to wake up.
Unfortunately I do wake while the light is barely over the tree line. I take stock of my injuries. I feel hollow. I feel sore inside and out. I sit there thinking how I never really escaped, how I traded one nightmare just to walk right toward another.
I get home and try to slip in unnoticed. I avoid any mirrors before I make it to the shower. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see. I stand under the scorching water, watching my skin slowly turn pink. Water and tears mix together as I indulge one last cry over my mistakes that left me vulnerable. I should have known better. After the types of men I know are out there (namely Mark), I should have been more diligent in protecting myself. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so stupid. My fault.
I wash and wash and wash, but I don’t feel clean.
After putting myself together as best as I can, I lie on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling for a long time. I am going to have to face Jem sometime. Melody … Reed … Just thinking his name hurts, knowing what I am going to have to do. How am I going to pretend to be fine? I stare at my flashing phone before I finally find the courage to read my texts with shaking hands.
The girls’ messages repeat themselves. Clearly they had been looking for me at the bonfire. Not hard enough apparently … I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s not their fault; it’s mine. My fault.
where are you?
where did you go???!!!
helloooo???
call me asap! Im starting to get worried hon …
Then I open up a few from Reed, trying not to cry as I read them.
Good night, princess, hope you’re having fun with the girls:) Ms. Graduate!
Miss you
Morning … what time should I pick you up tonight??
Oh, Reed … I can’t deal with this. I just can’t.
My eyes are misted over, but I try to control myself. Trembling even more, I scroll through my missed call log, which shows both Jem’s and Melody’s numbers. Even Jett’s number shows up. Unfortunately there are also quite a few from a blocked number, which causes my stomach to lurch. I make it to the trash can in my room before I heave up what is left in my stomach.
I shouldn’t have gone to the party. I shouldn’t have started to go to parties. I shouldn’t have drunk … all the things I shouldn’t have done that could have prevented the hell I woke up in. I fist my hair hard, tugging until my scalp burns. Tears spring from my eyes again as I promise myself never again.
Never again will I put myself in a vulnerable position. Never again will I cry about this. Never again will I be a victim. Never again will I let anyone break me. Not my mother, not any man, not even me.
Never. Never. Never. My fault. My fault. My fault.
Suddenly I feel like a caged animal. I have to get out. I have to leave all this behind. But how? Lying on my bed for an unknowable amount of time, I form a plan. It somehow lets me feel somewhat normal for a moment, like if I check off these things from my list, I might be okay again. Might being farfetched, but it’s all I can do to help myself feel sane in this moment.
Now, I know what to do, but doing it is another thing completely. I have to protect myself—from Nick, from Sue, from Mark, from myself, because clearly I can’t even trust myself.
The memory of the letters crashes into my thoughts. I suddenly rip the shoe box from under my bed and open letter after letter, many of which I didn’t open after the situation with my mother’s letter. I didn’t have the heart to tell Reed to stop writing me letters, but come to think of it, we had never talked about them. I assumed they were from Reed. I close my eyes at the thought of how wrong I had been to assume.
I read furiously though the letters. They start out sweet, mostly poems or romantic quotes, but after a while, they sound obsessive and even angry—angry that I hadn’t reciprocated. They eventually go on to mention my relationship with Reed and how I was being disloyal. If I had read them the last few months, it would have been obvious that Reed hadn’t written them.
I sit there lost, lost in memories of previous encounters with Nick over the last few years. He hardly knew me. I didn’t realize he had even noticed me. I hang my head at how very wrong I was. But the thought of anyone knowing what happened is humiliating, and I don’t know if I can handle that at this point. I don’t think I can handle much right now. I feel shattered.
My dad would be heartbroken. Mama Bea would be heartbroken. What would I even say to explain how this happened—that I made a horrible judgment call? The cost was too much to be sure, and I just can’t handle the look I would see on their faces.
Disappointment … disgust …
I don’t feel strong enough to handle that. I feel ashamed, and I start to cry even as I think it, trying not to remember the night before. Stop! No, I can’t go there. I can’t even think about it right now.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think!
I’m not sure how long I sit telling myself not to think, but as time passes, I realize I can’t avoid people forever. I get up slowly and go downstairs, prepared to put on a face of calm composure. What is one more secret to hide? What is one more mask? I will do better, be better, and never allow myself to be vulnerable again. Never again.
I text the girls that I hadn’t felt good the night before so I went home and crashed. I text Reed to pick me up ASAP. I just need to get it over with so that I can move on as fast as I can from all of this. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. I throw my phone on the bed, not bothering to look at their responses as I make my way downstairs.
Walking into the kitchen is like walking into the Twilight Zone. Everything is normal even though everything has changed. I am still shaking slightly, praying for Mary not to notice as I grab a yogurt and only pretend to eat.
“Morning. How was your night?” my dad says as he is reading over the newspaper.
“Fine. Hey, Dad, do you think I could get a job for the summer?” Not skipping a beat, I say, “I don’t have a car so I was hoping you or Mary could bring me to look for jobs today?”
His eyebrows rise slightly.
“So soon? Don’t you want to take some time? You just finished school yesterday.”
“
No, I’d like to go today. Reed is coming over soon, but we won’t be long …” I cut myself off, knowing that my conversation with Reed might not take more than a few minutes, but I don’t want to tell my dad that. It’s not really anyone’s business anyway.
“Well, if you’re sure,” he says, questioning me again.
“Yep, I’m sure. Thanks.” Check off my list. The sooner I move out, the better. I need to get out of this place. This town. But I’m gonna need money to do it, and I will spend every second of my summer getting it. I am not going to rely on anyone anymore. Not even my dad.
I am starting to see the truth of that all too clearly.
I hear Reed’s truck faintly in the distance so I get up and make my way outside. I wait at the end of the driveway, feeling a deep sense of doom. I feel sick to my stomach, sick in my soul, but I have to go through with this. I have to get this done so I can focus on my plan—or so that I can crawl in a hole and die. That sounds like a better plan in fact …
I stand there while he parks in front of me, smiling though the window as I fail to calm my heart. I have to control myself or I’m going to be sick again. Don’t cry. Just do what needs to be done; then you can go back to your room to wallow. I hate myself for what I’m about to do.
“Hey, beautiful.” He comes around the front of his truck to open my door, holding a single white rose. Handing me the rose, he gives me a quick hug, which I barely reciprocate. He gives me a tilted head look, like he is trying to figure something out. Is it that obvious? Did what Nick do leave a mark on me as if to say defeated, tarnished, foul?
The Face You See Page 17
