I glanced at Ali, chewing on her bottom lip as she drove and thought of all the reasons I had for not wanting her to meet my family. That’s when I realized, the only real reason I kept her from meeting them was because I didn’t want her to see how screwed up they were and have it reflect on me in her eyes. I was ashamed of them, of my life, and if I were to be completely honest, ashamed of myself.
I was no good, especially not for Ali.
“All right, I can’t take the silence anymore. Spill. What’s wrong? Did your mom say something to you?” Ali asked as soon as we pulled into the empty parking lot and parked. She stared at me with those clear blue eyes of hers, studying me intently.
“No, nothing. You ready?” I asked, remaining tight lipped as I opened the door and stepped out. There was no way I was going to tell her anything my mom had said.
I waited until I heard her door open and close before I started towards the concrete steps. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and lit one. Ali walked beside me, matching my stride perfectly, while nervously chewing her bottom lip and chipping away the remnants of her pink nail polish.
We were almost to the bridge when Ali stepped in front of me, placing her hand firmly below my rib cage in a motion to stop me in my tracks. It did. My breath hissed out of me and I winced in pain.
“What? What’s wrong?” she demanded, her eyes growing wide.
My hand flung to my bruised rib, as though me touching it would make it feel any better. “Hurt, that’s all,” I insisted, taking in a deep breath. I straightened myself up as best I could, took a sharp drag off my cigarette, and stalked past her.
She hurried to step in front of me again, her eyebrows drawn together in concern.
“What hurt?” Before I could stop her, she’d lifted my shirt to see for herself. “Oh my God! Seth, what happened?”
I tugged myself free from her grasp and walked the few remaining feet to the bridge. I put my cigarette out and tucked the remaining half behind my ear before pulling my bowl and bag from my pocket and sitting down. Ali sat across from me, Indian style. I could feel her eyes staring at me while I broke up my weed and sifted through it, removing all the seeds and stems.
“What happened, Seth?” she repeated, this time in a calmer, softer tone.
I still didn’t answer. I didn’t even look up, I just prepped my bowl.
“Did your dad do that?” she asked in a hushed tone. I snorted in reply, unable to keep the corner of my mouth from turning up into a tiny smirk. What dad?
“Your mom?” she pressed further when I didn’t answer.
Ali was fishing, fishing for answers, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to give her any, because what would she think of me then, once she knew the truth?
I put the bowl to my lips and let the flame of my lighter kiss the green inside while I inhaled for as long as I possibly could. I held it out to her and tilted my head back, gazing up at the clear blue sky as I exhaled. I watched my massive cloud of smoke float through the air and curl around before disappearing.
“Okay…well, if you don’t want to tell me who did it, then at least tell me the truth about how it happened,” she said, handing the bowl back to me. I took it, but remained silent.
Ali glared at me, noticeably growing irritated. “Fine. I heard you got mugged, you got in a fight at some party, and something about a dirt bike accident.” She ticked each story off her fingers as she spoke.
I double hit the bowl without meeting her gaze.
“So…what’s the truth?”
My eyes shifted to hers and I wondered if I should tell her the truth or stick with one of those bad boy excuses that didn’t make me look like the total wuss I was when it came to my brother.
Ali’s eyes softened. “You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone. I promise…”
Her last two words made something inside me shift and my heart skip a beat. I believed her. “I got the shit beat out of me,” I said flatly, keeping my eyes glued to hers.
Sadness trickled into her features, and sympathy. I broke eye contact, regret for answering her hit me hard. I didn’t want her sympathy and I damn sure didn’t want her pity.
“By who?” she probed, sounding cautious.
I’d already made a mistake by answering the first time, if I answered this question it would only lead to more.
“Why do you care?” I asked, sounding harsher than I had intended.
She shrugged and handed the bowl back to me. “I just do.”
“My brother,” I muttered, wondering why I’d allowed those words to escape.
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
My eyes dropped to the wooden planks that made up the bridge. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Boy, was that the understatement of the year.
“So tell me.”
My stomach twisted into knots as a bad case of nerves tugged at my insides. “What do you want to know?” I asked, flipping my lighter around between my fingers nervously.
“Anything and everything,” she replied.
I ran my fingers through my hair. Where was I supposed to start? “Hmm…” I stalled and seconds ticked away far too fast.
“Umm…do you have any pets?” she wondered. I silently thanked her for not leaving me out to dry any longer, that and for not asking about my family right off the bat.
“Nope, you?”
She hit the bowl one long time and exhaled sharply as a sudden coughing fit overcame her. Ali shoved the bowl back into my hand while she struggled to breathe in between hacking. I dumped the ashes into the palm of my hand before sliding it back into my front pocket.
“Yeah,” she managed to choke out. “A huge golden retriever. His name is D-O-G,” she said with a goofy grin.
I chuckled. “What the hell kind of name is that?”
“My dad’s corny sense of humor kind. He was going to name him God because he thought it would be ridiculously funny to shout for him in a public place and see the looks on people’s faces when they saw a dog come running. But, my mom said it was disrespectful, even though we’ve never been a religious family. So, my dad flipped it and called him D-O-G instead.”
I laughed, amused. “That’s pretty fuckin’ clever.”
Ali grinned. “I know, right? But, it does make you think though, doesn’t it? Why is a dog called a dog? It’s just God spelled backwards.” She raised an eyebrow at me, as if daring me to continue on with the thought.
I shook my head and chuckled. “This could end up being a pretty deep topic.”
“Afraid of a little deep conversation, Seth?” she teased.
Was she flirting with me? I flashed her a crooked grin. “Maybe.”
“You’re cute, you know that?” she smirked.
My grin grew. Yep, she sure was. “So, I’ve been told.”
“Oh?” She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me, again.
A sudden desire to kiss her rippled through me. I leaned in. “Really…” I muttered, my eyes zeroing in on her lips.
She licked them, either subconsciously or in anticipation I wasn’t sure, but, it was all the invitation I needed. I closed in on the space remaining between us and pressed my lips against hers. Her arms wrapped around my neck, making my heart pound in my chest. I wanted her, I wanted her so freaking badly it hurt.
I kissed her more forcefully, parting her soft lips with my tongue, ignoring the stinging pain it caused in my bottom lip to do so, and pulled her into my lap. My fingers roamed across her lower back until I found access to the smooth skin underneath her shirt. I caressed her bare skin with my thumbs, inching my way around towards her front.
“No, wait,” she breathed, pulling away and gripping my hands, freezing them in place above her navel. “Let’s not get too carried away.”
I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, God, how I wanted to get carried away with her. I ran my fingers through my hair and opened my eyes as she shifted to sit beside me again instead of in my lap.
“Are you ma
d?” she asked, eyeing me.
I cleared my throat and straightened myself up, pulling my shirt down in front to hide just how carried away I’d been. “No, I’m not mad. It’s cool,” I reassured her.
“It’s not that I don’t want to…it’s just, I don’t want to do it here.”
My eyes skimmed over her face, she looked uncomfortable and embarrassed.
“It’s cool, I get it.” I said in a light tone, hoping to make her feel a little better.
I dug around in my pocket until I found my bowl and packed up another one, letting her have greens this time. She scooted closer beside me, allowing her leg to rest pressed against mine. We smoked in awkward silence.
“What’s your brother’s name?” she suddenly asked, passing the assed bowl to me.
I cringed and reached for the cigarette tucked behind my ear. I lit it before answering. “Calvin.”
“My brother’s name was Jacob,” she said softly and my mind focused on one word: was.
“Was?” I questioned.
“Yeah, he was three years younger than me,” she whispered, her gaze frozen on the wooden planks in front of her.
“What happened?” I wondered.
Ali drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. I’d always thought of Ali as seeming innocent, but this was the first time I thought of her as seeming fragile.
“Jacob had gone to spend the night at his friend Kyle’s house. He was eight-years-old, and it was the second time he’d ever spent the night at a non-relative’s house.” She paused, squeezing her eyes shut as if fighting back strong emotions threatening to overtake her.
I sat in silence, waiting for her to continue, unsure of what to say.
“Kyle’s mom had been driving them to pick up a pizza and rent a movie when a teenage girl ran a red light and hit the driver’s side; the side my brother had been sitting on. Jacob and Kyle’s mom were killed instantly and Kyle suffered from a concussion, a broken arm, and a few bumps and bruises. All because the driver of the other car, a sixteen-year-old girl named Colleen Amons, had been texting while driving.” Her eyes shifted to mine, pain and torment reflected in them and it tore at the edges of my heart.
“Things changed after that. It was like my parents and I lived in utter silence for two years after the accident, unable to stop mourning the death of my little brother. My dad became withdrawn, but at the same time, firm and strict with me. My mother began writing and that’s when we started moving around from place to place. She always says it’s because she needs new energies around her to keep the creative energies flowing…but sometimes I wonder if it’s just her way of running from herself and the reality of losing her son.” Ali drew in a shuddering breath. “Sorry, guess this is one of those deep conversations you don’t like, huh?” She smiled at me weakly and I couldn’t bring myself to flash her even the faintest of smiles in return.
Seeing her so wounded and grief-stricken as old pain cut through her again killed me. I never imagined her having been through something so horrible. I was stunned.
My stomach knotted while she continued to stare at me, blinking back tears with her lips quivering. I struggled to come up with something comforting to say. Anything. But all I could think of was a simple sorry.
Once I opened my mouth to speak, the I’m sorry wasn’t what came from my lips. Instead, my mouth opened and everything I never wanted Ali to know about my life spilled out.
I told her about my dad and how he’d walked away when I was only three. I told her about my mom and how she’d tried to make ends meet for my brother and I, but it had taken a toll on her and she’d turned to alcohol as a coping method. I told her how Mom lost her job two months ago because they’d gotten sick of her coming into work smelling of booze. And how her drinking has gotten worse since then. I told her about Calvin and how he couldn’t hold a job besides dealing drugs.
And then, I told her the truth about how I’d gotten beaten up.
The only parts of my life I kept secret were the things my mom said to me earlier and everything about crystal meth. Ali already knew I smoked pot and popped pills, two things that must seem fairly harmless in her eyes or else she wouldn’t have done them, and that was all she needed to know about me.
After spilling my guts, I hesitated in bringing my eyes to hers, afraid of what I might see in them. Once I finally found the courage, they were wide and worried, thoughtful and sympathetic. In that moment, her sympathy didn’t bother me.
Ali didn’t speak and neither did I. We held each other’s stare, truly seeing each other for the first time.
Ali wasn’t just some girl living a peaches and cream life with parents who had a little bit of money. Ali was more than that, deeper than that, and she had the scars on her heart, on her soul, to prove it.
And I wasn’t just some bad boy who was nothing but a punk kid looking for trouble. I was raised around trouble and because of it, I was troubled to the very core.
It was 9:40 p.m. when Ali dropped me off at my house, apparently she had a curfew of ten p.m. on school nights, something I knew little about.
I kissed her goodnight and watched her pull away before stepping inside to a silent house with every light on. I sauntered down the worn carpeted hall towards my room and closed the door behind me. I flopped down across my bed and smoked another bowl before drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Three weeks went by. Ali and I spent as much time together as we could, between school and her curfews. Everything seemed to be going great, until the moment her parents decided they wanted to meet the boy whom she’d been spending all her time with. Me.
I stood in front of my dresser, staring at my reflection in the mirror intently. My lip had healed, my bruises had faded away, I looked normal again.
I pulled on my nicest pair of khaki cargo shorts and a green plaid button up shirt from the back of my closet I hardly ever wore. I wore it tonight, though, only because I felt it was important I looked decent.
I took two puffs off my bowl to mellow me out and calm my nerves before I left, grabbed the cigarette I’d stolen from Calvin’s pack when he hadn’t been looking, and started out the door towards Ali’s house for my judgment day; that’s what it felt like, anyway.
Once Ali's house came into view, my palms began to sweat; I was scared shitless of what would happen in the moments to come.
I started up the steps, my heart banging in my chest. Her parents were going to hate me, I was sure of it. They’d take one look at me and be able to see the blood flowing beneath my skin heavily tainted with my various weaknesses…especially her dad.
I knocked and stood perfectly still, holding my breath as though it were my very last, wishing I could fast-forward and press play only when this whole thing was over with and I was on my way back home.
The door creaked open and Ali stood in front of me, her bright blue eyes meeting mine, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She wore a bubble gum pink t-shirt and a short denim skirt. I exhaled, relieved at the sight of her, and a crooked grin stretched across my face. I silently prayed this wouldn’t be the last time I got to hang out with her.
“Hey. Come on in,” she insisted with a smile.
“Thanks.”
Thrusting my hands into my pockets, I stepped across the threshold. My mother’s words echoed through my mind mocking me as I trailed through the white tiled foyer behind Ali. You’re tainted with your own addiction…she’ll realize sooner or later what a worthless piece of crap you are...She’ll get sick of you and move on.
I clenched my jaw tight, my hands balled into fists inside my pockets. What if she was right? What if her parents took one look at me and saw exactly how worthless I actually was…how long would it take before they convinced her of the same?
We rounded a corner and stepped into a large living room. Ali’s mom and dad sat on an over-stuffed couch watching TV. It muted the second we came to a stop and the fisherman reeling in the
catch of his life grew eerily silent on the screen. My throat tightened, my heart thudded with so much force inside my chest I swore it could be heard by everyone’s ears in the silence of the room.
“Mom, Dad, this is Seth. Seth, this is my mom and dad.” Ali introduced us all with a nervous smile.
I could feel her parents’ eyes on me, sizing me up. I half expected them both to shout out, leave and stay the hell away from our clean, uncorrupted daughter! And, I would have, too. Because the thought of me never being good enough for her had crossed my mind a million times, and now, it resonated in the depths, pulsating with every pound of my heart.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” I said, somehow managing to push down all my nervous fear, not letting it leak into my words.
“Nice to finally meet you, too,” Ali’s mom said with a smile.
Seconds seemed to drag on while I waited for her father to speak. His eyes remained fixated on me, boring into me. The steady, intimidating eyes of a cop. I thought of all the impurities floating through my blood, all the things I’d smoked, snorted, and popped. Was he able to see all of that? From the way he stared at me and the seriousness of his features, it seemed possible.
“So, you’re the boy my daughter has been spending so much time with, huh?” he asked point blank.
My throat went dry, and I had to swallow hard to be able to speak again. “Yes, sir.” Sir? I’d never said sir to anyone in my life before.
“Treat her well and respect my curfews…understood?” he questioned, his eyes cutting through me like knives.
“Yes, sir. Understood.” I replied clearly, nodding my head more than necessary. I was nervous as shit under his penetrating stare. It made me feel two inches tall and more paranoid than a crack head with a gram in his shoe and a cop blue lighting him for no apparent reason.
“Good,” he muttered. He shifted his attention back towards the TV and with a click of his thumb, restarted my heart as the overjoyed sounds of extreme delight swam through the room once more from a redneck fisherman describing his catch.
Shattered Soul Page 8
