In an Instant

by Adrienne Torrisi

  I can tell he is getting frustrated, which only makes me laugh harder.

  As he holds me up, his blue eyes lock with mine, and then he leans in to kiss me. It’s an incredible kiss.

  “What was that for?” I ask, excited and ready to go right here on the bench next to my front door.

  “It’s the only way I can get you to be quiet,” he says with a smile as he leans back in to kiss me again.

  “Whatever it takes,” I say through our kiss.

  Without even realizing it, he somehow inserts my key into the lock and miraculously opens the door.

  “We’re in.” He pulls back, revealing the open door.

  “That was a dirty trick. You’re sneaky,” I say as I stumble into him.

  He gives me a sly smile, causing me to laugh again.

  “My hero,” I say more loudly than I intended and throw myself forward, forcing him to catch me.

  “D, come on. You don’t want to wake up your mom,” he says, trying to help me find my footing.

  “Too late,” my mom says as we turn the corner. She is standing in the dark in her bathrobe.

  “Have you been standing there this entire time, listening to us?” I can’t hide my anger.

  She cocks her head as if she can’t believe I’m using this tone with her, especially in front of Marcus, and then she starts to walk toward us. “Hello, Marcus. Thank you for getting her home safely. I’ve got it from here.”

  Marcus’s eyes lock with mine. He knows there is nothing else he can do. There is no way to save me now.

  “You okay?” he whispers.

  I nod. “Go,” I whisper back with a smile so he doesn’t worry.

  As soon as he closes the door, I turn toward my mother, already feeling sobriety washing over me.

  “Don’t bother. I’m going,” I say with my hand up as I walk toward the sliding glass door that leads to our backyard.

  “Get back here.” My mom grips my arm as I try to walk by.

  “Why?” I don’t even give her the courtesy of turning around. I hate her. I hate this exchange. It’s always the same. She pretends to care since she thinks she is supposed to, but as soon as someone more interesting with male genitalia comes around, she forgets I exist.

  I’m done with her, her games, and her fair-weather parenting. I’m done with everything: all of the missed dance recitals when I was kid, the false promises of dinner being on the table, and coming home to an empty house—all of it. A parent should be there through good and bad, not just when it’s convenient.

  If I think she’s bad, my dad has her beat in the parents-not-giving-a-damn contest, so I guess I will have to take what I can get when I get it. Instead of saying any of this to her, instead of showing her just how much her absence hurts, I go through our usual routine of screaming at each other.

  I finally turn toward her and go for the jugular. “What, was no one better available tonight?”

  Then I feel the back of her hand slam into the side of my face. “You little bitch.”

  I just give her a smile. Success. That’s my free pass out of here, and it works like a charm.

  I’m finally in my sanctuary away from home, the only real thing my father ever gave me—my tree house. My dad built it with his own two hands. I still see the blood, sweat, and I would like to think love that went into every piece of plywood that makes up this six-foot by six-foot box in the sky.

  It has been my salvation, my escape, my sanity since I was six. Whenever things get too hard or I need to shut the rest of the world out, this is where I come. As I got older, it became more of my hangover cure. This is where I come to sleep it off. I have a small battery-operated fridge stocked with water, a jumbo sized bottle of Advil, and a full-size mattress that takes up almost the entire floor space. It’s everything you need for a full-fledged hangover antidote.

  Getting up here is a challenge sometimes when I’m wasted, but anger was my trajectory tonight. Honestly, almost every night.

  Just as I pull my springtime flower sheets that I have had since I was a kid over my head to drown out the rest of the world, I hear a knock from underneath me. I ignore it and cocoon myself farther into my soft sheets, feeling the cool cotton envelope my skin.

  “Dani? Are you in there? Actually, I know you’re in there. Can I come in?”

  I knew it was Jake before I even heard his voice. For almost our entire lives, our backyards have kissed each other’s, one fence separating his backyard from mine. This tree house was as much mine as his growing up. We both would come here to get away from whatever it was we needed to escape. This was where we first practiced kissing in the fourth grade, where he came when he first discovered his dad wasn’t as faithful as he’d vowed he would be to his mom in the seventh grade, and where he first admitted he liked my best friend Mel in the tenth grade. What’s spoken in the tree house stays in the tree house; that’s our rule.

  Jake and I have always been close. It has been a protective, older brother kind of close, even though we are the same age. Where he went, I went. As kids, we were inseparable, which was a definite perk when I discovered boys since I always had Jake’s friends surrounding me. His best friends have always been his teammates, so I had the top choice of boys to pick from. For a long time, it was “Hands off Dani.” Thankfully, his friends didn’t follow that rule, and neither did I. What Jake didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him was our motto.

  My name is Daniella, although almost everyone calls me D. Jake, on the other hand, has always called me Dani. He was the only one at first, and now a few other people use it.

  The night he told me he liked my best friend Mel, everything changed between us. No longer would I let him protect me or set “rules” for me with his friends. I may have gone a little overboard, but I didn’t care. Deep down, I think I wanted him to see what he was missing. I know that now.

  Then Marcus came along. He was different. He cared about me, not just about getting me into bed for the night. It was what I needed—to be wanted, cared for, loved for once—and I love him for it. I’m just not sure I’m actually in love with him. Sometimes, I think I am.

  The makeshift floorboard door pushes open.

  “Can I come in?”

  I pull the sheets even farther over me as I turn so my back is to him. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

  My head is starting to feel the effects of what I put into my body tonight, and the slow, steady throb is starting. I know this is going to be a full jackhammer pounding soon, so I pop two Advil, unsure if I even took any before.

  The side of my bed dips down from the weight of his body, and he gives a deep sigh. The tree house is small for his six-foot-three frame, so it’s funny to see him try to fold his body into this tight space now.

  I don’t have to look to know his head is buried in his hands as his elbows rest on his knees, his fingers running through his messy, dark brown hair. I know Jake so well, and he’s pretty predictable.

  “It’s over.” He finally speaks. This isn’t what I expected him to say, so I perk up a little. Still, I’m cautious not to let him know, and since I’m currently under the sheets, I can easily mask it.

  “What’s over?” I try hard to sound as uninterested as possible.

  “Me and Mel.”

  This is not at all where I thought this was going. They seemed perfect tonight, every night.

  “You guys seemed fine earlier.” I’m not taking this bait, if it is bait. I learned a long time ago not to take sides.

  Then I feel him lean over my body, his face so close to mine I feel his breath through the thin layer of cotton separating us. “I know, but she doesn’t understand me. She doesn’t get me like you do.

  “My parents got into a major fight tonight. I mean, major. My dad packed his bags and walked out. I came home in the middle of it. I think it’s for real this time, Dani. I left. I needed to get out of there. I went to Mel’s, but she just doesn’t get it. She was all positive and sugary, ‘I’m sure it will work o
ut tomorrow once they sleep on it,’ glass is half-full kind of shit. I’m done. She doesn’t understand me. Not everyone’s life is perfect. Not everyone’s mom and dad like each other. Not every mom wakes up and makes fucking pancakes for their kid every morning. But she doesn’t get it, and she never will.”

  I’m suddenly grateful to my sheets for masking my true feelings. I have never allowed them to surface because I can’t. I have buried them so deep I didn’t even know they were still there. But feeling him so close to me, so vulnerable, those feelings are bubbling up like a volcanic explosion. I’m trying to push them back down. I need to push them back down. So instead, I say nothing.

  “I’ve tried for a long time to fool myself into thinking we could work, but we’re so different I don’t think we could ever relate to each other. And I used to think it didn’t matter, but it does. I used to think I didn’t care, but I do.”

  I feel him pull away, and I know he has gone back to his usual head-buried-in-his-hands stance. I instantly miss his warmth. I hear his heavy breathing and know he’s trying to be discreet with his emotions, but I also know they are winning. And I know what I have to do.

  “Hey, I get it.” I throw the sheet off then gently run my hands over his heaving back. “I know. Do you think Marcus can relate?” I give a small chuckle to myself. “But maybe that is why we all work together—because they don’t get it, and we can escape it all with them. Maybe they make us better … everything better.”

  He turns, his light hazel eyes meeting mine, and my stomach reacts with a flip. I push that deep down, too. He is your best friend’s boyfriend, and your boyfriend is his best friend.

  A small smile breaks onto his lips, just enough to reveal his dimples. “Maybe you’re right.” He runs his hand over my leg, and I try to stop the automatic reaction my body has from his touch. Chills run through me, showering my skin with goose bumps as the warmth from his hand seeps into me.

  I remove his hand. “I know I’m right.” I try to give him a genuine smile.

  “I guess Mel and I are good together.” He lies down with his arms crossed behind his head while I lie down to match him so we are both staring up at the plywood ceiling above us.

  “Can I ask you something?” His voice finally cuts through the silence as he brings his hands down to his sides.

  “Sure.”

  “Do you really love Marcus?” I feel his fingers slip through mine, and I honestly don’t know what to do or say, so I intertwine my fingers with his and gently squeeze his hand.

  Touching him makes me realize how much I want him and how wrong this is. What do I say?

  “Do you really love Mel?”

  He gives me a deep chuckle. “Not fair. I asked you first.”

  I take a deep breath. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I think I do.”

  He squeezes my hand more tightly. “I know what you mean.” His words don’t really say much, but it’s the meaning between them that grips my heart like a vice. I’m not sure it will ever let go.

  “Why can’t things be easy, like when we were kids? We’d just come here to leave everything else behind. No boyfriends or girlfriends. No cares in the world, really.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I wish the same thing. It was special. It’s always special with him, and I hate myself for even thinking that.

  “Well, you fell in love with Mel, and the rest is history.” I want to say you ruined it that night. It was you. But I don’t. I can’t. After all, I don’t know how he will react, and I couldn’t bear a life without him, Mel, or Marcus in it, and I could lose all of them if my true feelings were ever revealed.

  He gives another quick, deep laugh mixed with a sigh, but he doesn’t say anything else.

  The Advil is working, but not fast enough. The low pounding in my brain surfaces, and I know a full-fledged hangover is on its way. I close my eyes to try to convince myself I’m fine both physically and mentally when I know neither of those are true.

  I hear Jake’s soft, steady breathing. It’s so gentle, just like him. There is nothing about him that looks like a kid, but I know deep down he is still that nine-year-old boy I fell in love with long ago, with a heart so big it could fill the entire world. Deep down, I know I fell in love with him that night in fourth grade and then again the night tears were streaming down his cheeks in seventh when he fully opened up to me about all of his deepest fears. No one else knows that incredibly vulnerable side of him. He only lets me in that deep and always has. I’m grateful for that yet hate that it’s Mel he gives his heart to publicly.

  I close my eyes with that thought, content and complete because Jake is next to me.

  Chapter Three

  Present

  “Shit, D, you’re bleeding,” Mel says.

  I didn’t feel it before, but with her words, I feel wetness trickle down my forehead. My eyes automatically go to the celling of the car below us where there is a puddle of blood pooling right under me.

  I look back at Mel, needing to stay calm for her sake. “It seems like I am.” I give her a smile and suppress the fear beginning to bubble up.

  Mel doesn’t look good.

  “Mel, are you okay?” I think I ask it, but I’m not sure.

  I start to feel light-headed, like my head is floating but also in a blender. Everything is getting mixed around. Then a peaceful feeling washes over me, and I let myself fall into an abyss of darkness.

  I hear screams—Hanna and Em’s. Then I hear Cam’s voice shouting at them to stop.

  “We need to find Jake,” he barks as an order.

  I wish he didn’t say that, because Mel will hear. I hate that I heard, but I already know.

  Then there is just peaceful darkness again. It’s not scary. I know I’m safe here. This is where I need to be, so I decide to stay. However, voices keep pulling me back to the surface. Now they are voices I don’t recognize.

  “He’s going into V-fib,” I hear someone shout. “Charge the paddles.”

  It’s eerily quiet, which I take as a good sign as I embrace the dark warmth that is covering me like a blanket.

  Suddenly, I’m standing outside of the car. I see Cam, Dax, and Nate huddled over Jake as paramedics work on him. There are flashing lights illuminating the black sky. The lights continue to spin, unaware of the drama happening right below them. The paramedics are frantic, and the girls are hysterical. Marcus and Mel aren’t here, and I don’t think I really am, either.

  There is a horrible crunching metal sound, so I turn toward it. They are cutting up Cam’s car. They must be trying to get us out. I know with every fiber of my being I’m still in that car, yet somehow, I am out here, seeing everything. I don’t question it, though. I know I’m supposed to be here, supposed to see this.

  Why can’t I see Marcus? I can see everything but him. The look on Cam’s face when he saw Marc and called for Jake in the backseat is seared into my memory, but I can’t absorb what any of it means. I am surrounded by chaos, yet I’m calm. I am not sure how, but I am. It’s as if I’m watching a movie, and none of this is really happening to me. This isn’t real. It can’t be.

  I turn back and lock my eyes on Jake. I can’t pull them away now even if I tried.

  There is a large tube jammed down his throat, connected to a big bulb-like thing that one of the paramedics is squeezing while the other one is pounding on his chest.

  “Come on, Jake!” the one breathing for him shouts.

  Dax looks like he’s about to lose his shit. Both girls are holding on to him with their faces buried in his shirt. They are afraid to look, while I can’t look away.

  Jake is always the leader, always the one in control, so to see him lying there, clinging to life, so helpless, isn’t possible. This cannot be happening. We were just together, just holding hands.

  Cam is pacing, pulling at his hair like he does when he is stressed. Then he kneels down next to Jake so he is up by his head while the paramedics work feverishly.

  “Fight, Jake! You need
to fight, dammit! Fight!” he yells. It’s earth shattering to hear him so desperate.

  Just as quickly, I am pulled away. I’m not sure by what, but I feel hands press on my neck, unfamiliar hands.

  Someone yells, “We’re gonna need another ambulance.”

  Then I hear someone else say, “He’s in bad shape.”

  Who? Jake? Marcus? Who is in bad shape? Why can’t I see them anymore?

  And then there is silence again. Warm, inviting silence. I choose to go there. No stress, no worries about anyone. It’s calm, peaceful.

  Chapter Four

  Three months ago – December

  I shove my books into my locker, grateful that it is Friday. We have cheer practice, but I know Coach will go easy on us since we have a game tonight.

  “Hey, D.” I hear as hands flip under my skirt, hands I don’t recognize. Hands that are now caressing my butt, touching my underwear.

  I clench my fist and start to shout, “What the hel—” as I turn around. But before I can get the words out, there is a blur of motion, and the guy who was touching me is slammed against the lockers behind us.

  Jake is holding him up by the collar of his shirt. The noise his body makes when it slams into the lockers is a deafening, bone crunching sound.

  “What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Jake tightens his grip on Joel’s shirt.

  “Sorry, man, I was just saying hi.” Joel is dangling at least a foot off the ground as Jake continues to press him against the lockers.

  “Next time, say it with your mouth and not with your hands,” Jake retorts, tightening his grip even more.

  “Dude, that’s a little tight.” Joel coughs as he gasps for air.

  “Good. Remember how this feels, because if I see you touch her again, I will do much worse.” Jake pushes him harder into the metal lockers and raises him up higher for extra emphasis. Then, as soon as he lets go, Joel collapses to floor, gasping for air. “She has a boyfriend, asshole!” Jake shouts in his face as Joel tries to regulate his breathing.