Get Rocked

by Tabatha Vargo

  Dr. Jensen, my therapist, said soccer was the best thing for me. For so many years I used the sport as my release. She thought returning to the game was a nice way to start my healing process. So because of that, I ended up enrolling in Florida State. Well, that and the fact that Aunt Sarah and Sydney were quite possibly the pushiest women in the world. Sydney could be quite convincing with her sweet skillful manipulation.

  Turns out, running to Aunt Sarah and confessing everything was probably one of the best things I could’ve done. Asking for help wasn’t as easy as you’d think, and when I told her I was positive I was starting to have panic attacks, she was understanding and gentle when she suggested Dr. Jensen.

  “So how was class and practice yesterday?” Dr. J asked as she tapped her pen on her clipboard.

  She crossed her slender legs and directed her blue eyes at me. I’d often thought about how much I admired her blue eyes and fire-red hair. She was older but beautiful, and I liked the fact that she didn’t judge me. Whether or not that was because she was paid to listen to me, she never flinched, never judged, even when I told her every disgusting detail of my life. That was the hardest two weeks of my life.

  “It was okay.”

  She looked at me over the rim of her sleek black glasses. “As in you barely made it through your week or as in nothing exciting happened?”

  She lifted her coffee cup from the mahogany table beside her and took a sip.

  Her office wasn’t like those of the quack doctors you see on TV. It was a warm and inviting room with big comfy furniture and a bowl full of chocolate. The woman knew about depression. Nothing could crack a depressed face into a smile like chocolate.

  I snatched up a foil-wrapped piece, unwrapped the milky goodness, and popped it into my mouth.

  “As in it was good,” I said around a mouthful of heaven. “I let out a lot of steam on the field, and I’ve met quite a few new friends.”

  She scribbled on her paper. “Any panic attacks since last week’s session?”

  “Nope, none.”

  “That’s good.” She scribbled some more. “Any nightmares?”

  I tensed up. I hated talking about my nightmares.

  “Yes. I had the melting one a few times and the one with him in it.”

  I couldn’t even say the word dad anymore. I just referred to him as “him.” That had to be a sign that I was doing not-so-great.

  I also didn’t like to talk about his death. As far as Dr. Jensen knew, he had a mental breakdown. I told her the position he held was too much for him and that he took his own life. It was the only lie I told her, but in my mind, that’s exactly what he’d done. Every time he laid his dirty hands on me, he was preparing himself for death. Each touch was like a nail to his coffin, and the girl inside me was just waiting for the moment when she could finally break and destroy him.

  Seeing his hands on my little sister was all I needed. I could still remember the sound of the gun, the smell of his blood. That night would mark me for the rest of my days.

  Later that night, I sat on the phone with Zeke until I fell asleep. It was hard since I missed him so much and I wasn’t sure if it was the new medicine Dr. J put me on or what, but I was suddenly worried about him being around all the rocker chicks. I trusted him with my life, but I knew what kind of guy he was when I met him. Who’s to say that being in love had changed him? I could imagine it was hard for a guy like him to be faced day by day with women throwing themselves at him. He wasn’t used to denying himself anything.

  The thoughts of him sleeping with these wild girls made me sick to my stomach, but I had to trust I was doing the right thing.

  A few days later, I got a drunken phone call from Zeke in the middle of the night. It didn’t last long and then the phone went dead. That happening didn’t help bury the green-eyed monster that seemed to be following me around. And when I saw an MTV news update about one of their shows and saw a naked woman throw herself at him, that didn’t help much either.

  I hated it. I hated seeing the way girls hurled themselves at him. And while I could very clearly see he was nicely pushing them away, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened when there weren’t cameras on him. Did he take any girls back to his hotel room for a quickie?

  It wasn’t in Zeke’s nature to go without sex for long periods of time, and while I knew he meant it when he said he loved me, was it enough to make him withstand sex?

  The jealousy bug was taking a big bite out of my ass and it was making me crazy. I pulled out my phone and pulled up Zeke’s text messages.

  Me: I miss you.

  Zeke: I miss you more.

  It wasn’t long until the season started and we were on the bus to our first game. Luckily, our first game was with College of Charleston and I got to go back to South Carolina. That meant I could see Megan after the game and maybe squeeze in some time to visit my mother’s grave.

  In the locker room before the game, I suddenly started to feel a little lightheaded. Playing a game had never been a big deal for me, but earlier I’d stepped out and saw the crowd waiting to watch us play. I felt a little sick to my stomach at the thought of so many eyes on me.

  When it was time to play, I stood up and followed the girls. At the door, the chest pains started and I had to take a deep breath. The only problem was I couldn’t get any oxygen. Turning, I fell to the bench just inside the locker room. The shakes were starting and no matter how hard I tried to talk myself out of it, a panic attack was coming.

  I was just beginning to hyperventilate when Hope came back in for me.

  “You okay, Patience? You don’t look so good,” she said as she sat next to me.

  Her being there and asking me that question seemed to intensify my panic, and it wasn’t long until my entire body shook. I leaned my head between my legs and tried to breathe, but the fear of dying right there in the middle of the girl’s locker room was so intense. Heated tears sprang from my eyes and slid down my cheeks.

  Why was this happening to me? And why wasn’t I strong enough to make it stop? I felt like such a dumbass for sitting there shaking. I felt even dumber for crying about it. I hated being weak. I hated that I was letting these things get the best of me. I couldn’t fight him when I was growing up, just like I couldn’t fight myself and make these things stop.

  Far away I could hear Hope talking to me. I couldn’t make out her words, but even with numb fingers, I felt her warm hands as she placed a bottle of water into one of my hands and a pill into the other.

  I looked up into her face. Her understanding smile helped a little.

  “What… is-is… this?” I stuttered.

  I could barely hold the tiny oval pill in my palm.

  “It’s a valium. Chew it up and chase it with the water. It’ll help. I promise.”

  I didn’t know Hope all that well. We only really hung out on the field and a few times when I grabbed a quick lunch in between classes. But the fear of dying was only getting worse and at that point I’d do just about anything to make it stop.

  I tossed the pill into my mouth and started to chew. The sharp taste of the crushed-up pill rolled across my tongue and made my jaws lock. I quickly downed the water and put my head back between in legs as I waited for something to happen. Either I’d die from a massive heart attack since my heart seemed to want to be on the outside of my body, or the magic pill would kick in and things would be all right.

  Once the shakes started to calm, I could feel my heart and blood slow back to a normal speed. The circulation returned to my arms and legs, and I no longer felt the weight of numbed limbs pulling me down. The air felt fresher when I breathed it in, and the room stopped spinning.

  “Well, you certainly look better. You ready to go out there and kick some ass?” Hope asked.

  I appreciated the fact that she was pretending like nothing happened—like it was an everyday thing for someone to go into a full-blown panic attack around her.

  “Yeah. Just give me another minute
.” My throat ached, so I took another swig of the water.

  A few minutes later, we were quickly making our way to the field. It took me a bit to get into the game, but soon I was running up and down the field and making goals. We played hard and won by three points. I was still feeling the relaxation from the pill she’d given me before the game when I made my way back into the locker room. It was as if I’d swallowed magic.

  When I got out of the shower, I made it a point to walk by Hope on the way to my locker.

  “Thanks for earlier,” I said quietly.

  “Anytime. If you ever need another one, just let me know. We all have our moments and my mom keeps me stocked. I have a little something to help you stay alert to study, too, if you’re ever in need of that.”

  The thought of being medicated all the time didn’t fly with me. I knew there were people who took things to bring them down and things to give them pep in their step. Every time I’d been around Zeke’s friends, it was obvious they were all on something, but that wasn’t for me.

  “I appreciate it, but no thanks. Could we please keep the earlier episode between us, though?”

  She nodded her understanding and gave me a friendly smile. “Of course, Patience. If anyone understands these things, it’s me.”

  After I was cleaned up from the game, I met up with Megan. We stopped by my mother’s grave. Megan stayed in the car while I sat next to my mother’s headstone and talked to her as if she were there with me.

  It was the first time I’d visited since we buried her and it was hard. I cried and explained the situation while wishing she were still there with me. She’d have excellent advice. I missed our talks and regretted the fact that I didn’t open up to her. The fact that I didn’t get to say good-bye still stung, but not as bad as it had when it first happened.

  I left purple roses on her grave, her favorite. After a while, I pulled myself off the grass by her headstone, told her I loved her and missed her, and made my way back to Megan’s car.

  Megan said nothing when I got into the car with red eyes, and we didn’t talk until we pulled in the restaurant parking lot for dinner.

  She looked different. Her hair had grown out since the last time I saw her and she lost the multi-colored strands and was going all natural on me. The honey brown suited her nicely.

  She was already in her third semester at the University of South Carolina and looked to be doing pretty well for herself. It was as if we’d gone off and switched positions. I was a mess and she looked like she had her shit together, but I knew better than anyone that it was easy to put on an act.

  It was like old times. Things seemed to be going well for her and I was happy to see her smile, but once I brought up Zeke and the rest of the boys, there was a tiny crack in her façade.

  “It’s good that you and Zeke are doing this. I think y’all are good for each other. So Chet’s doing well?” She nervously played with her straw.

  It took a lot for her to ask about him.

  “He seems to be. When’s the last time you talked to him?” I asked.

  She took a draw from her sweet tea. “Right before they left,” she said sadly.

  I tried to stop my jaw from dropping, but I didn’t catch it in time. “You mean he hasn’t contacted you at all?”

  She shook her head no and her curling-ironed curls fell a little.

  “I’m so sorry, Megan. Here I am talking about meeting up with Zeke and things getting better between us and you’re still pining over Chet.”

  I felt like shit officially. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to still be hoping to hear from or see Zeke.

  “Oh what-the-hell-ever, I’m not pining over his punk ass. I was just asking how he was doing. Honestly, I couldn’t care less.” She called the waitress over and ordered a piece of cake.

  “You don’t have to pretend with me, Megs. Remember, I know all about pretending.”

  We spent the rest of dinner talking about Chet and how much she missed him. She told me about a nice guy she was kind of seeing up in Columbia. He was in her algebra class, but she couldn’t get past Chet and his silly ways. She even talked me into texting Zeke and seeing if he could talk Chet into calling her. I felt awful for her.

  Somehow, we ended up at The Pit—something about her needing to be somewhere that reminded her of Chet, but I was convinced she just wanted to choke down some drinks. I agreed. After panicking before my game, missing Zeke, and going to my mother’s grave, I was in need of something to drink myself.

  I ordered a beer at the bar and turned and listened to the band. The place looked exactly the same and it reminded me of when I first met Zeke. He was a total asshole then and it was hard to believe the sweet guy that kissed me through the phone every night was the same guy that was a complete prick all those months ago.

  I made sure the bartender gave us both unopened drinks, and Megan and I spent the rest of our night drowning ourselves in entirely too much alcohol and dancing to a band that wasn’t even close to being as good as Blow Hole.

  It was so loud that I’d missed all the phone calls from Zeke calling to tell me goodnight. It wasn’t until I followed Megan into the bathroom that I caught them. I dialed his number back and waited for him to answer.

  “Where have you been, babe? I was worried when you didn’t answer,” he said into the phone.

  “I’m fine, I promise!” I yelled.

  The music from outside the bathroom was still making its way past the grimy tiles that covered the walls. I plugged my ear so I could hear him speak.

  “What’s all that noise? Where are you?”

  “I’m with Megan at The Pit. There’s some crappy band on stage. They’re nothing compared to Blow Hole.” My loud voice echoed off of the bathroom walls, but I didn’t care.

  My phone decided at that exact moment to lose signal. I could hear broken pieces of what he said, but nothing made any sense. Finally the call was dropped and no matter how many times I tried to call him back, I couldn’t.

  Three beers later, I gave up and decided to call him when we left. My phone was almost dead and I couldn’t hear a damn thing anyway. I turned it off to save the battery and stuffed it in my back pocket.

  I’m not sure what was worse—knowing my snowflake was somewhere she had no business being, or being jealous of not being there with her.

  The truth was I missed The Pit. We’d been talking about going back and playing a gig there on our own time, but things were picking up for us and everything was happening so fast.

  More than anything, though, I felt fear. I knew what went down in the dark corners of The Pit, and I also knew I didn’t want Patience running around there alone. I hadn’t thought about the fact that the girls would go there when she told me she was going to Charleston to play a game. I wished I’d asked her not to go there alone.

  I spent the next three hours walking the floors. I tried to get high and kill some of my nerves, but it didn’t work. I called her phone over and over again until finally I just got her voicemail. I’d known this fear with Patience before. It seemed like I was constantly worried about her. She wasn’t ignorant, but she always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time. The Pit would always be the wrong place for her.

  When my phone finally rang, I couldn’t answer it fast enough.

  “Hey, Zekey. It’s Megan. I’m calling for Patience. She’s shitfaced, dude. She said she’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I could hear Patience talking in the background and she sounded muffled.

  “What’s she doing?”

  “She’s puking beside my car. No worries. She’s in good hands. I’m taking her back to the hotel she’s staying at and she’s leaving with her teammates in the morning to go back to Florida. I’ll make sure she calls you in the morning.”

  I ran my hands roughly through my hair.

  “Y’all had no business going to The Pit. You both know how dangerous that place can be!” I yelled into the phone.

  It
wasn’t my thing to yell at females, but I was so worried and pissed that I couldn’t help it.

  “Dude, she’s fine. She’ll call you in the morning.”

  And then the phone went quiet.

  It took everything in me not to trash my phone again. I wanted to throw it at the wall, but I couldn’t. It was killing me being this far away and not being able to be there for her. She was drunk and sick and who knew what else, and I was hours away stuck on a fucking bus, helplessly waiting for her to call me back.

  That night I couldn’t sleep for shit. Every hour my emotions changed. For an hour, I’d be so pissed that I could kick someone through the face, and the next hour I’d be so worried that I wanted scream. It fucking sucked.

  The sun peeked through the curtains, the bus in stop-and-go morning traffic, when my phone finally rang. Looking at the screen, a picture of a smiling Snowflake popped up. Pressing my finger against the screen, I answered.

  “Feeling better?” I said rudely into the phone.

  I hated being mean to her, but I hated that she kept me up all night worried, too.

  “Not really. I feel like I got hit by the bus I’m riding on. I’ll be back in Florida in about three hours.” Her voice was raspy and rough.

  She was definitely nursing a serious hangover and as bad as it sounds, I couldn’t help but think how much she deserved it.

  “Well, that’s what happens when you drink too much. You get sick and you feel like shit the next day. I hope it was worth it.” I sat up and threw my feet over the side of my bunk.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

  I shook my head in aggravation and took a deep breath. Long-distance relationships sucked so much ass.

  “What’s wrong with me? Are you seriously asking me that? You went to The Pit… alone. Every time you go to there something happens to you. I spent the entire fucking night worried about you.”