by Leanne Davis
“Both of you, stop.” I lift my gaze to address them. “Don’t let what I do, or have done, come between you. It’s already between all of us. Besides, it doesn’t matter what you two think. It only matters what Mom and Dad want me to do.”
“No, Missy, it actually has to be what you are willing to do,” Mom says softly with a tender gaze toward me.
“I think I need to learn what the hell is the matter with me.”
“What? Like you have some childhood trauma? God. You’re not Mom. You don’t have any basis for your screw–ups. Just lame excuses.” Emily insists.
“I know I don’t have a traumatic upbringing. I know I’m not Mom. Duh. I never suggested that I suffered like Mom did. Why would you even accuse me of saying something like that? I never said anything of a sort. For God’s sake, Emily, I don’t know what I need. I just know that I feel totally lost right now and that’s why I’m asking to go to a therapist. Nothing else has worked. Not one ultimatum. Not one boundary. Not one plan that any of you tried to set for me during the last five years. And with no more school and no job, who should I be accountable to? I wander. I float. I drift. I don’t know why.” Rising to my feet with my hands and jaw clenched tightly, I must admit that Emily’s smug, know–it–all attitude and perfectionism has gotten to me and set me off. “That’s the reason I’m asking to see someone. That’s the reason I’m asking for more time. And because I don’t know what the fuck else to do, you stupid, smug little brat.”
I know I went too far. I should not have snapped with Emily. I close my eyes, sucking in a short breath. Hot tears streak my cheeks and I don’t dare glance at Seth. I can only imagine how he must be cringing over my outburst right now. Over… us. I’ll think about that later. I can’t even acknowledge it now because I can’t handle it. My emotions are all over the map.
I slap my cheeks and take in a deep breath as I lower my voice. “I don’t know why I’m such a colossal fuck–up. I’d love to say it’s just an aftereffect of taking too many drugs. But I don’t take that many and haven’t taken enough to blame it on that or why it’s gone on for so long. Don’t you get it, my loving, supportive sister?” I really lay the sarcasm on thick. “I don’t know why I’m this way.”
My lungs gasp for oxygen as I expel the residual carbon dioxide in my diaphragm.
Mom gets up and walks over to us, wrapping me in her arms. She and Christina are so small that I sometimes feel like I’m hugging a little kid when I embrace them. But not this time. Mom has all the authority. She leans over Emily and takes her hand, squeezing it.
“Sometimes people can’t be strong and good even if it seems like they should be. Often, they are just fucked up, Emily. That’s why there isn’t an easy answer to your question.” She leans back so I can look into her eyes. “And yes, you can come home, Missy. I will help you find someone who might give you some direction.”
I sag into her embrace, relishing her kind words and unconditional support. I close my eyes and forget about Emily and Dad and Seth and everyone else who doesn’t understand what it’s like to feel weak and silly and incapable of stopping bad behavior, no matter how much everyone wills it.
Dad gets up and turns before slipping through the sliding door without a word. Not even a glance around the room. And without making a sound. Seth’s head whips around to watch him and then he turns back to me. I, too, am staring after Dad’s retreating figure. My heart nearly shatters and I feel as if my eyeballs could simply burst out of my eye sockets from the pressure of so many tears building up behind them. I press my lips together and again, drop my gaze from Seth’s and close my eyes hard to keep the flood of tears from flowing.
Mom, doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t mention Dad or what’s going on with him. Or why he won’t even look at me. Do I disgust him that much?
Christina, ever the one to ask the obvious, says “What the fuck is wrong with him, Mother?”
Jessie flinches and lets me go. “I don’t know. I can’t get him to talk to me anymore, okay, Christina? I don’t know.”
“Great, now I’ve ruined Dad. The one person in the world who is capable of dealing with anything and everything, and now I broke him.” My tone is hollow, dry, and bitter.
My head whips around as Emily’s gruff snort fills the room. “As if. You can’t break Dad, you idiot. He’s tough as steel. He’s just working through his guilt over throwing you out and then you almost died.”
“How can you be sure he feels anything?”
I meet her eyes and she sticks her tongue out at me. “I know Dad,” she adds with a sneer. “He just needs some time to work through his confusion over what he did and then what you did. He’ll get over it.”
I nod. “Yeah? I hope so.”
“He will,” Mom agrees, nodding her head.
I don’t know about that. I’m not convinced. And honestly? Mom’s voice isn’t as convincing as I think she means it to be.
“Do you want something to eat?” my mom asks after a brief silence. Because we are all puzzled by my father’s lack of reaction to this.
I shake my head no. “I’m going to take a shower and clean up. I’ll get something to eat after I come out. And then… maybe we could find a place for me to go.”
“Honey, I already have a doctor. You can see my therapist or another one in the clinic. That’s the easy part. Going there is the toughest.”
“I’ll go.” I clench my fingers tightly. I sense the incredulity that permeates the room. No one really believes me. My track record and inability to stick anything out for very long tells the whole story. I get it. I’m not offended. But this time, I intend to follow through on something. I swear. However, I know better than to say it again. I have already beaten the proverbial dead horse with all of my broken promises. Could that be the reason my own father hates me? The same reason everyone always doubts me and why I got kicked out of my parents’ home? No, it was because it’s time for me to figure out what to do with my life. I do not want to be like this anymore. I almost don’t care about the why now, if I could just learn how to not be the way I am.
I get on my feet and head towards my bedroom. The room buzzes into a low murmur as they, no doubt, discuss what the hell I actually meant. I’m sure they all wonder if I could follow one thing through after all the shocking things I’ve been up to, capped off by dangling over the town’s water tower, as high as a kite. No one in my family gets me.
I pull out clothes from my drawers and closet before addressing the nest that is my hair. I want to go out and see the dogs. I could use their company right about now more than anything else. A knock on my partially open door makes me turn towards it. Seth is standing there, staring inside, his head bent down until his gaze lands on mine. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I withhold the melodramatic sigh. I can’t even look at him. He comes in and sits on the edge of my bed where the comforter isn’t pulled off. As if he wants to avoid contact with my slept–in sheets. He clears his throat and stares around my room. I doubt he’s ever been in here before. Maybe it’s not what he expects. I don’t like change very much. My room is the same as I’ve had it for years. Stuffed animals still cluster on the end of my bed, which is centered under a window. Wild animal posters, of all varieties, cover my walls. There are pictures of me with girlfriends and boyfriends over the years. My room is usually messy and cluttered. That part I’m sure Seth expected.
I continue gathering my day’s outfit, exaggerating the process to appear busy. “So what happened… on the tower…” He stops and his voice falters. I tip my head up just enough to catch him in my line of sight. It is so rare to see the usually confident, always–sure Seth almost stumbling over himself. Sex seems to challenge Seth’s confidence, which kind of surprises me.
I sigh, clutching the clothes in my hands. “I was high, you read about the stuff I took, it makes… you know, people do that…” Now my voice falters. Okay, I had sex with Seth, someone who is, let’s face it, a nice, decent person, an
d unlike anyone I’ve ever had sex with before. I started sleeping around when I was seventeen. Probably older than most assume I was. My first was a guy I dated during my junior year. He wasn’t very nice to me and that seemed to start my pattern of choosing and chasing the wrong men. But Seth? His rigid sense of morality, and right and wrong, and his choice to abstain from swearing, drinking or sleeping around must make me a huge downgrade in sexual partners for him. I know his last girlfriend was crazy smart and planned to accomplish the same kinds of things Seth is in the process of mastering. Not a slutty girl who likes bad boys and has no plans for higher education, not after earning low grades and never having a work ethic no matter what job she takes. Yeah, I realize it all now as I stare at Seth. He is hunched forward and looks awkward as he sits on my bed. I’m sure he is thinking that he lowered his standards by sleeping with a partner like me. Meanwhile, he significantly raised the bar for me. I know what high regard he holds for my parents and my sisters. Even for Max. And Emily’s boyfriend, Harrison. I’m the only Hendricks girl for whom he lacks any degree of respect or admiration.
“What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. You know, for what I did.”
I can’t think of anything to say that would fix it. I feel the blood rushing to my face. I am embarrassed. Honestly, never before have I felt even a fleeting sense of embarrassment with regard to sex or the man I was doing it with or even how we were doing it. Anand could be sitting in front of me and I would have no inhibitions in standing there and talking dirty to him, while looking him right in the eye. I never blush or even twitch with embarrassment or self–consciousness.
But that was before. I didn’t give a flaming crap about what Anand or anyone that he hung out with thought of me.
But now I regret using such juvenile antics to garner Seth’s attention, even his negative attention, because I care what he thinks.
Now, my heart sinks and I stare at my bare feet. Quiet surrounds me. I hear my mattress creaking; he obviously shifted his weight. “Did you think I was someone else? You were pretty out of it.”
I whip my head up. “No. Of course not. I knew it was you.” I lick my lips. This is nothing if not excruciating to discuss. “I knew it was you, Seth. I’m just sorry. You were trying to help me and I… I did that.”
“We, Missy. We did that.”
I press my lips together. I’m not used to hearing a guy take the blame when I’ve specifically spared him from it. “I won’t tell anyone, Seth. We can just forget it happened.”
“I don’t think I can,” he replies in a low tone. A quiet, subdued, calm, pensive tone. He isn’t like any guy I’ve ever been with. “And we weren’t careful either. We…”
“I don’t usually fail on that part, Seth. I swear to you. That was way out of character. But I’ve been on birth control for several years now, so you don’t have to worry. You’ll have to trust me. I can understand it, if you find it hard to do.”
His shoulders visibly fall. “Birth control?” The optimistic tone in his voice is almost giddy with relief, which makes a small smile tug at my lips in observation.
“Yes. Honestly. See? We can forget we did it.”
“I still can’t.” He stretches out his left leg. The silence lingers again between us, only it’s more awkward and strange. We definitely don’t know how to participate in idle chit–chat. And after last night? There’s no way for me to begin. “Did you mean what you said out there?”
“Which part? The juvenile bickering at Emily or for making my father walk out?”
“Well, those too. But I was talking about the counseling.”
“Sure, I meant it. I haven’t forgotten that you found me only steps from the tower’s ledge.” I sigh and drop the bundle of clothes in my arms. “I’m not good at this, Seth. Being grateful or gracious or whatever. You witnessed how I am. But in all honesty and truth, I am very grateful that you came and… stopped me. You saved me, or whatever you want to call it.”
“Which was it? I did wonder about that. Was I stopping you from doing something desperate, or just saving you from your own bad judgment?”
“The second answer,” I reply immediately. “The second one. It was a stupid, terrible stunt. A dangerous act that could have ruined my life as well as my family’s. But there was honestly no intention or desire beforehand to actually hurt myself.”
He doesn’t immediately answer. I can see him tapping his fingers together from the corners of my eyes. “You scared me. I’ve been up on mountains and cliffs twenty times that high and nothing managed to scare me as much as seeing you standing on that ledge.”
I shut my eyes and a strange quiver flows through my body at the image of what I did. I flop down beside him, curling my legs up under me. “I’m sorry. For doing that to you. And involving you.”
He turns and stares at my forehead, my eyes, and my lips. “Why did you reach out to me? Why not anyone else? It seems like I’d be the last person you’d choose to call on for help.”
“Because I’m crazy, Seth. I do crazy, irrational, insane, impulsive things. Didn’t you get the gist of that from the conversation in there? Or from seeing me on the tower?”
My breath catches when I happen to glance up, trying to punctuate my point with a scowl and I find him staring right at me. His hazel eyes are really beautiful behind the frames of his dark glasses. They pierce my soul. He reaches forward, touching my chin, rubbing his fingers along my jaw and he slowly, as if he is testing it out first, cups the side of my face. “You’re more than that.”
I’m caught by his intent gaze. He’s looking right into my eyes. My tongue grows thick and sloppy. It feels natural for me to deny it, but instead, I just stare at him. I’m nearly shocked. He seems so convincing. Why? Why would he possibly think that? He witnessed my erratic behavior. He doesn’t like the way I flit around to different subjects whenever we talk. Or how I have a hard time just focusing on things that don’t fully interest me. I know I annoy the shit out of him. I’m well aware of that. But now? He’s staring at me so differently. As if… I’m some kind of rare, beautiful creature he’s never seen until now.
I gasp. I’ve never had this kind of reaction from anyone before, let alone a guy. I’m all breathless and my blood is racing. Am I blushing? I feel almost virginal as my stomach flops around as if… I’m nervous? No, not me. I don’t get it. His hands are warm, his fingers long and slender, and his touch is so soft and gentle. I want to curl up into his chest and feel safe, cared for… and normal.
What the hell? I don’t look to any guys for things like that. I like guys my age or thereabouts strictly for sexual favors and compliments; in short, for a good time. Nothing real or serious.
But with Seth, of all people, I don’t have that reaction. Not even a little. I touch the tip of my tongue to my lips, and I am not trying to be sexy, but my raw nerves are making me unsure of what to do or say. Finally I reply, “You know better than that, Seth. I’m not. I’m really, really not. Sex doesn’t change who or what I am.”
He keeps me in his vision. By a fraction of an inch, he barely shakes his head as if in denial. “You are the one who doesn’t know better.”
I stare into his eyes but don’t see even a trace of kidding or mocking. He can’t actually believe I have problems with my self–confidence? Sure, I have behavior problems, but not psychological problems. And he’s analyzing way too much from one sexual encounter. I don’t let my emotions alter me in any way, or how I react to a guy.
“I should, um, go shower now. I promised Mom I’d come out and call a counselor. I’ve got to try it and get better.”
He lets his hand fall from my face and I want to dive after it, seeking its warmth. He feels so clean. I don’t mean like he scrubs his nails or washes often. I mean, he’s clean as in decent, good, and nicer to me than I’ve ever been treated by a boy. And I never ask them to treat me better than they do. Now, I’m wondering if perhaps all that is the basis of my problems. Seeking out guys like Anand who think drugs
are an easy fix and the best way to spend time with me. The thing is, I agree with him. Nice guys who go to college and hang out easily with my dad are boring to me. I scoff at them, thinking what losers, nerds, and dorks they are. Just like I used to think Seth was. Up there studying or whatever his lame ass does all the time.
But this doesn’t fit any scenario I ever pictured for us. His hair falls over his forehead and my heart is beating crazy and erratic at the way his intense eyes are staring at me. Usually, I see his anger and annoyance directed at me. Not right now.
“You know, I’m still me. I’m still going to annoy the crap out of you,” I finally say in my feeble attempt to get us back to our usual place of bickering. The place where we are on equal footing and I understand us better. This? I really don’t understand.
“And I don’t act the way you want. I’m not exciting or young or ill–behaved. I’m still me.”
I don’t respond, and our gazes reveal our puzzlement as we both lower our eyebrows. I finally swallow and rise to my feet, seeking familiarity and a place where my entire life doesn’t feel so tilted. Even though it is.
I slip out, leaving Seth and the situation all weird and awkward and unsure. And really, isn’t that how I usually live my life and the level at which I function the best?
Chapter Eight
~Melissa~
I spend the afternoon with my mom and sisters. Max goes to work. Harrison comes by sometime after lunch and he and Emily disappear together. They have been dating since they were seventeen. She hasn’t dated anyone else. I’m sure my parents, especially Dad, love knowing that; it means Emily doesn’t sleep around, not like me. And as I well know, Dad doesn’t want anything or anybody to do what I do or be like me. Including me.
Anyway, my irrational anger at my little sister for doing everything so well and my envy for how everyone else approves and expects the best from her isn’t fair. I need to focus inside myself. On myself. And quit acting entirely for myself and my desires. I don’t want to be that girl. That crazy, stupid, impulsive girl who hangs off water towers because she’s too high to comprehend the danger of it.
