He starts to get up and leave when two police officers walk into the room. My heart drops. Oh, fuck.
Apparently, they've already talked. They're shaking hands. Later I learned they got a story from each one of us, and they all matched perfectly, even mine. We had consensual sex, and he accidently tore me. I didn't go to the hospital before it got worse because I was afraid Ms. Gar would be mad.
I spend three nights in the hospital. Janie decided to stay with me. Ms. Gar was here yesterday. She knows what happened, and she’s not too happy. I can’t quite read her emotions. Her eyes display anger, but her body language displays disappointment. I don’t know how she’ll ever trust us again.
I spend the next two weeks on a padded seat under my butt. The infection that I had is gone, and I'm almost like new. The antibiotics and pain killers helped so much. Ward has, so far, respected my wishes to leave me alone. I really focus on my school work. When they took the stitches out, I realize that more people have looked at my crotch than I care to count. I haven't even had kids yet.
I fall into a normal pattern, but his smell burns in the back of my mind. School, work, smoke, bed, Ward, school, work. I catch a glimpse of his shirts in my closet sometimes. I haven't given them back to him yet. They bring back a flood of memories, and feelings.
Janie and Jessica have been truly amazing as my friends. The whole time I was sick, they brought me food, snacks, water, everything. I didn't even ask. They even helped me shower. It was kind of weird being naked in front of two other girls, but I couldn't do it without them, and I'm grateful for their help.
Hannah has become increasingly jealous. She's moved downstairs to where the infants used to sleep. She sleeps in a toddler bed. We've tried to talk to her, but she doesn't want to listen. The night that everything happened, Janie and Jessica were talking to Hannah online. Hannah was posting personal stuff about them, so everyone would see it. So, Jessica gave her a little taste of her own medicine. It was all deleted, of course.
I see him around. I can tell it's hard for him to ignore me. He gives me a weak smile sometimes. I have to trust my head with this one. But I'm miserable. No. I can't fall back. I can't get hurt again. I don't know if he's still doing drugs or not. He's becoming more reclusive than ever. Am I a fool? Am I a jerk? Am I heartless and insensitive for backing away, instead of helping him? Who am I kidding? I miss him. How can you miss someone that you can see every day? He's not himself. Even Janie noticed.
I finally save enough cash to get my own cell phone. Janie and I text each other, even if we're in the same room sometimes. It feels good to be connected to the outside world again. I got a text from Janie one night when I was at work.
Janie: hey. im going to forward some messages
Me: okay.
Janie:
FWD::
WARD:: janie. i miss her. i dont know what to do
JANIE:: try and talkto her. i think you should tell her the truth about your drugs. she might understand everything better
WARD:: that will probably scare her even more. she told me to leave her alone. im going to listen.
JANIE:: it's my only advice
WARD:: i hate this. i feel more alone than before.
JANIE:: not to be mean. but you kind of did this to urself.
WARD:: i know.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why do I feel so crummy? I feel like I took a toy from a small child, and smashed it to pieces in front of them. I have to talk to him. I have to tell him I still care for him. I don't want him to hurt me, though. I have to tell him I'll be there for him if he needs help. I really want to help him. He even told me he 'probably' needed help, right? I don't know how. I don't know how much of me it'll take, but I can't go on like this. I thought this would be the solution in my sick state-of-mind, but it's not. I think hard while I walk home from work. I at least want a friendship with-
I'm in his doorway about to tell him how I feel. I have it jumbling around in my head. He looks at me, I look at him. And the girl that's under him looks at me too.
My eyes immediately peel over themselves, trying to take in this image. I quickly turn, put my hand to my eyes like I didn't see them, and run to the shower room. As soon as I shut the shower room door, I lock it. I put my hands over my mouth in terror. Why am I afraid?
I try and stay quiet as he pounds on the door. "Hay, please!"
"Just go away, I'm okay," I lie miserably, I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I'm shocked.
"What? No, please, I can explain," He pleads.
"No need to explain. I promise," I say. He's not mine. Is he? I can't act like he is. But I feel so horrible. I can't let him see that I feel this way. I told him to leave me alone. What did I expect? For him to hang on, and keep dragging himself over me? I can't help but feel a tinge of jealousy that he was with someone else. But why did he write that to Janie? Maybe I should listen? I'm so confused.
He's not mine. He was never mine. He's not mine. He was never mine. I have to keep reminding myself.
"Damn it," He says, smacking the door. This makes me jump.
I don't talk. Maybe if I don't talk, he'll go away. It's five-year-old logic. If they can't hear or see me, I don't exist? I want to hear his voice so bad. I can't look into those eyes. I can't bend to his will.
There're a few minutes of silence. I decide to peek out. As soon as I unlock the door, there's a loud click from the bolt. Shit. I slowly open it, there he is. In his boxers. Hanging over the banister, with his back to me, he watches in shame as the girl leaves. I try and tip toe behind him, but the slamming shower door gives away my position.
"Hayden, please," He whips around. I quicken my pace down the stairs.
"That's what I don't understand, Ward," I say, turning around on the stairs. I finally look into those eyes. They make me go weak at the knees.
"What?" He asks.
"You can beg, you can plead, you can flirt, you can yell, and you can laugh," I count on my fingers in his face, "But apologizing is just TOO much for you, isn't it?" I can't believe my words, "That emotion just doesn't exist for you, does it? Do you even feel remorse when you do something wrong?" I've stunned him into silence. I don't even care he was in bed with someone else. I don't care. What am I talking about? I care a little. I think.
"Yes." He finally says.
"Then," I put my hands in the air, to show my frustration, "UGH!" I scoff and storm down the stairs. Apparently, my scoff was extremely loud.
Ms. Gar comes from around the corner, "I have lost total control of this house! I need everyone to the dining room, NOW!" She screams at me, and I give a dirty look to Ward.
"Put some fucking clothes on! Jesus Christ!" I yell in the same tone he did to me the first time we met. I angrily stomp down the stairs.
The whole house heard Ms. Gar's voice. Since it was ten-thirty at night, everyone showed up in their pajamas, with sleep hanging in their eyes. I'm the only one in a yellow dress, with a name tag that displays, "HAYDEN GREENE."
"Alright," Ms. Gar shouts in the small room, her angry voice echoes through the house. Her Long pink nightgown flows when she walks. "Everyone here knows all too well that this place has gotten out of control. We are a team, and we work together. Hayden and Ward, get a grip. Hannah, get over yourself," She takes a deep breath before she gets too out of control.
"Thank you!" Jessica exclaims, making Ms. Gar close her eyes and exhale loudly.
"Everyone sit," when no one takes a chair, she screams, "SIT!"
Everyone plays musical chairs, and we all stumble over each other trying to sit down. Ward and I end up across from each other. Hannah and Jessica sit next to each other at the far end, and Janie sits next to Ms. Gar at the head of the table. "Okay," Ms. Gar starts, "We are going to have a group therapy session, and we haven't done this in a while, so let me explain, especially to Hayden who's never done this before. I will also add that, if you refuse to participate, your privileges will be stripped away for a month. Do I make myself
clear?" She says, slightly aggravated. We all nod. Except for Ward, who does nothing. "Good, let me explain. I will go around the table. The topic is your life, how long you've been in the foster system, and your struggles, and confessions, nothing is off limits. No judgments. No arguing," She looks at Hannah when she says this. "Janie, you first."
"Janie Walton. Seventeen years old," She starts, setting the tone for the rest of us. She's been through quite a few of these. "I've been in the foster care system my whole life. I don't know who, or where, my parents are. I've been through three foster homes. I've been here ten years. My first house was broken up when I was six in Miami. They failed an inspection with the state. In my second home, I was sexually abused by a male nanny. I was seven. After, I came here." She sounds rehearsed.
"Good, thanks for sharing, Jessica, your turn."
Jessica sighs, "Jessica Hampton, sixteen. I've been in the system for five years now, my single mother was murdered in a crack house in Jacksonville. This is the only place I've been. My struggles are my regrets, mostly. I didn't get to know my mother better before she died. I didn't get to help her like I wanted to. Shoot, I was only eleven. But, yeah." She shrugs her shoulders and leans back in her chair.
"Hannah?"
"Hannah Jaso, sixteen," She pauses. She doesn't like this at all, but she's forced to participate. I don't think she likes sharing things like this, "I've been in the system for three years. My parents were killed in a car accident. My grandparents couldn't, and wouldn't take me in. This is the second place I've been. I was tortured for five days at the other place. I still bear the scars on my stomach," she pauses for a minute, contemplating saying the next sentence, "Those scars were because of a child that I bore from my rapist." Everyone looks up at her, shocked, Except for Jessica. She knows. She's never shared this before. "My baby is two now. She's in foster care on the west coast. California, I think. Her name is Jennifer." She's close to crying and stops.
"Okay," Ms. Gar says, shocked. How did she not know this? Or was she just shocked because she’s obviously shared more than before?
"Ward?" She looks to him, but he sits with his arms crossed. No one expecting him to talk at all, I think.
A few moments pass and he look straight at me as he talked. Like, he wasn't speaking to anyone but me. Everyone looks up from their laps at him.
"Ward Jenkins. Seventeen," His words are slow and direct. "That's not even my real name. My name is Avery Allen Jenkins. When I was young, teachers and other kids used to point at me, and call me Ward, because I was a ward of the state. I guess that just caught on, and I went with it because I heard it so much; not realizing it was a cruel nickname. People assumed my name was Edward because they thought Ward was its short. I have been unwanted since I was seven. My drunken father thought his entire family had to die, except me. He killed himself in front of me. He shot my twin sister, and she died in my arms. Her name was Annabelle Lee. I was in one foster home before this. It was just me with one man. For three months, he strapped me to a chair in a hot attic, forcing me to clean it when I wasn't in the chair. If I didn't do something right, he would force me to say I was sorry." Oh, shit. His jaw clenched, "If I didn't say I was sorry, he'd brutally beat me. From that day on, I've never apologized for my actions." He stops. We're all in silence. Even Ms. Gar. I'm left. I don't know what to say. My eyes get watery, and a tear catches in my throat.
"Hayden?" She looks to me.
I start my story like a zombie, "Hayden Greene. Seventeen. I don't have stories like all of you have. I've been here a month. My father died in the Middle East, and my mother committed suicide a year later. I don't quite know why I feel guilty now. I suppose it's because it feels like I don't deserve to be here. I don't- I don't know who I am anymore, or what my purpose is." I look to Ward. Or Avery. Whoever he is. I look down at my fingers, and the tears flow over my eyelids; blurring my vision. "I'm sorry if I've offended everyone with my lack of struggle. I don't mean to. We're all alike in that we've been through some trauma. Some more than others. Some longer than others. I have to tell you, I was judged the moment I walked in here. I could feel it. Some of you have screamed it in my face," I look to Ward, "but I still carried on. I carry on because I've learned that you have to look forward, not backward. You are what you make of your life. You can't keep blaming your bad situations and decisions on your past. Nobody has the option to shape your future, except you." I'm talking indirectly to him. He knows it.
"Amen," Ms. Gar says. I think I stole the words from her mouth. My eyes are still moist. I look away and get up. I run out the front door, slamming it shut behind me. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know if anyone is following me. Janie does. Her pretty face peeps behind the brick wall that I've hidden behind.
"You want me to leave you alone?" She asks.
"No," I say, "I need a friend."
"I didn't know you felt that way," She admits.
"I didn't know either. I guess I knew it inside," I grab my pack of smokes from my front apron pocket, hand one to Janie, and light it up. I take a seat on the brick flowerbed cascading the house. Janie sits next to me. "Did I offend anyone?"
"No. Well, maybe Ms. Gar for storming off, but I think she understands," She sucks on the butt.
"Oh, okay. I didn't know how everyone here can keep going after what they've been through. Including you. You were raped?" I ask.
"Yeah, it took years to admit it to anyone. When I finally did, it was too late to prove anything. Last I've heard, he's still a nanny. Nasty bastard."
"And Ward. Did you know all of that?" I ask.
"Most of it. I didn't know his real name was Avery. He's been through so much, Hay."
"I know, Janie. What do I do?" I beg.
"You've sparked something in him. He's never worn his emotions on his sleeve like that. The only emotion he's ever portrayed was anger to everyone," She flicks the burning filter away. I can smell the plastic.
"Why me?" I ask. Before she takes this the wrong way, I rebuttal, "What about me has him so smitten?"
She laughs, and I'm not sure why "Smitten? Did you really just use the word smitten? You're so fucking cute," She says.
I'm still sucking on a quarter length cigarette when I lose the drag in a swift exhale, "What?" I'm giggling.
After she finishes laughing, she says, "Sometimes, people can sense certain things in others. I think your ability to read people intensifies when you've been hurt too many times, or so bad that it feels like a lot of times. In the same way that they say people who lose one of their senses, their other senses are increased," She thinks I don't understand because she wiggles her eyebrows in confusion. It maybe sounded too difficult, but I do. I understand completely.
"Yeah, I guess. I'm going to try something with him, but I'll keep my guard up." I say.
"I got your back, I'll look out for you," She looks at me with huge green eyes, and smiles.
"Me too," Jessica steps from around the dark corner, making us jump.
"Me three," and unexpected face comes from behind her. It's Hannah. "Hayden, I'm so sorry I haven't been nice to you," She looks down in embarrassment.
It feels good to hear those words. I'm sorry. Even though they don't come from the person I want them to come from, I'll take it.
"It's okay, Hannah. I'm sorry I got feisty with you that night, I guess I got what I deserved."
"You did not deserve that. At all. No one deserves that. I guess my jealousy and envy got the best of me. I need to work on that," She says.
Ms. Gar comes outside with us. Hannah looks shocked because I still have a cigarette in between my fingers. She doesn't know Ms. Gar caught us already. "My therapy session worked, obviously. I'm glad everyone shared tonight. But, we all better get to bed. It's nearly midnight. I'm going to have everyone get back on a regular cleaning schedule. And Hannah, I want you back upstairs, please?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Hannah looks down guiltily.
ELEVEN
October is almost ove
r. I've talked to Ward a few times, but through text messages. This is my barrier that I want to keep up for a little bit. We mostly ask each other how each other are. We're only ten feet apart, and I hear him chuckle every time I write something that he thinks is hilarious. I don't try and be funny. Maybe he's elated that I'm talking to him.
Sunday night I am studying for a test. All day, I've heard the strumming of a guitar from down the hall; as my face was scanning an English textbook. I figure it's Ward's stereo. He's probably listening to a live instrumental CD or something. I can't hear it through my earphones that well.
I get a text close to nine O'clock.
Ward: need your help.
Me: What's wrong?
Ward: just come here please?
I take the earphones out of my ears and throw back my blanket. The hallway is much quieter now. I turn the corner to Ward's doorway. A flood of mixed emotions comes crashing into my stomach. Seeing his face for the first time in days starts a title wave of feelings. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, at the foot. He has a dark guitar across his lap. He's been the one playing.
"I want to hear what you think," He says. He pats the couch in front of him, that's closer to the bed than before.
"Of what?" I ask stupidly.
"My cooking, Hayden," He says sarcastically while pointing to his guitar.
I roll my eyes, laugh a little, and walk to sit down. I made sure I was covered up, so it wouldn't conjure any particular feelings in him. I'm wearing a large black yoga shirt, that hangs off my left shoulder, a pair of light wash jeans, and my hair is in a curly mess atop my head. I cross my legs in front of me, and my arms lay comfortably in my lap.
He's wearing a red polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts with flip flops. He's never looked this bright before. His black spiky hair is perfectly messy. A purpose kind of messy, like my bun.
Hot & Cold: Toxic Love Page 9
