by Russo, Jessa
First of all, she’d obviously been eavesdropping on my conversation with Mick if she knew I was ditching. Second of all, I wished I could believe her that ditching one day of school and hiding out for the weekend would make all of the rumors go away. If anything, I was probably making them worse by not facing them head-on today.
I took a quick shower, all the while completely buzzing with excitement I wasn’t supposed to feel. I was going to spend the day with Mick. Any girl would be happy about that, but I wasn’t supposed to be dating. Not Mick. Not anyone. But I couldn’t ignore the anticipation. And frankly, I only had myself to blame. I’d gotten into this mess the first time I smiled at him Friday night, continued digging myself deeper into it when I went out alone with him after the warehouse party, and had just solidified my utter inability to stay away from him by agreeing to ditch school to hang out with him. Ugh. I might as well enjoy it.
And my mom was right; why shouldn’t I spend time with someone that made me feel like I mattered? Someone other than my family.
My excitement faded when I got out of the shower and faced the mirror. After wiping it down and trying to get rid of some of the moisture on the glass, my reflection was slightly distorted, and my eyes were unmistakably gray. Could my mom really not see it? Was she choosing not to see it?
I leaned in closer and wiped the mirror again, this time with the towel and not just my hand. I examined my eyes, seeing an even darker ring around my pupil than had been there the last time I looked. My skin seemed to move, as if it was shimmering across the surface. It wouldn’t be much longer before someone else could see the changes too. In fact, maybe I shouldn’t even go anywhere with Mick today.
Then I remembered I still hadn’t called the optometrist. Duh! I really needed to remember to do that. I’d call on Monday for sure.
I blinked as my reflection flashed in and out of existence.
Merde! I’m losing my effing mind. Before I knew it, I’d be back in the psychologist’s chair, telling him about my feelings. Or, more likely ignoring him and staring at the wall, which was what I’d found myself doing all those months ago.
I blinked again, and sure enough, my reflection flashed in and out a few more times. It was as if I faded in and out, but when I was gone, a gray statue stood in my place.
A gray statue of me.
Tears welled in my eyes.
A pounding on the bathroom door was accompanied by my brother’s voice, startling me out of my thoughts.
“Holl!”
I looked at myself one last time, and nothing happened. I shook my head. Impossible. I’d imagined it. Nothing had happened.
Nothing.
Maybe I needed some sleep.
Or some medication.
The scars on my wrists throbbed, and I wondered if I really was losing it. I wasn’t in that dark place, like I’d been a few months ago. I wasn’t. I didn’t want to hurt myself. I didn’t want to die.
I stared into my own eyes in the mirror.
I’m not a danger to myself.
I am not seeing things.
People don’t fade in and out like ghosts.
This isn’t happening.
I am fine. Everything is fine.
“Dude!” I jumped as Cam’s fist hit the door again, “How long are you going to be in there? Your boyfriend is waiting downstairs!”
Horrified, I swung the door open and glared at my brother. “Keep it down, Cam!” I quickly averted my stare, turning away from him to gather my stuff from the counter, making sure not to give him too much time to look into my eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“What’s the matter, Holl?” Shoot, did he know something was wrong?, “Scared he might hear me?” Cam’s voice became louder with every word, sending my heart racing. “Wouldn’t want lover-boy to—”
“Dammit! What do you want? The bathroom? Fine! I’m done. Just shut your mouth!”
Cam smiled a satisfied smile and moved aside so I could step past him.
“So, Mom says you’re ditching today, huh? Want me to come with you?”
My anger faded, replaced by the love I had for my brute of a little brother. Cam was many things, and often annoying was at the top of that list, but I couldn’t ask for a more loving sibling. He’d cared for me so much in these last few months. His constant concern, though at times a bit much to deal with, had been my comfort. Even when I gave in to the darkness, convincing myself that I wanted to leave this life, even though deep down I knew I didn’t, he never gave up on me. He’d been the one to help me realize what a mistake I’d almost made.
“No, Cam, don’t ditch. There’s no reason for you to avoid school. You have classes you can’t miss if you want to stay on the water polo team. Plus, you have Rosemarie now. Wouldn’t want to leave her alone with Sana; someone could get hurt.”
“Yeah, my ex.”
We both laughed, but I was the next to speak. “Seriously, though. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to see if things will die down over the weekend.”
We both knew they wouldn’t.
Cam grabbed me before I could get too far away. He pulled me into a headlock and kissed the top of my head while I tried squirming out of his grip. “I’m glad you’re going to give Mick a chance, Holl. He’s a pretty cool dude. And he likes you.” He released his hold on my neck, then gave me a soft push toward my room. “Of course, that could have changed in the three hours you’ve left him downstairs waiting for you.”
“Please! It’s only been, like, ten minutes.”
“Whatever. I’m just glad I was here to offer him some coffee. You’re a terrible hostess, sis.”
Oh geez. I hadn’t offered him a drink! I’d been too preoccupied with my pajama debacle and hadn’t even thought of it.
“Thanks, little brother. I owe you.”
“You do. And if you call me little one more time, I’ll owe you.”
“Touché,” I said as I closed the door to my room.
“Oh, and Holland? P.S.”
I opened the door a hair and peeked back at him. “P.S. what, Cam?”
“P.S. Dad’s downstairs with your boyfriend now. Bon jour!” Cam said, mocking my occasional slip into my favorite language, complete with high-pitched tone.
My eyes widened as Cam laughed and closed the bathroom door. Gah! I thought Dad left for work already!
I dressed in jeans and a light brown cowl-neck sweater, as quickly as humanly possible, and I avoided looking at my face in the mirrored closet doors. I didn’t want to see it lurking there, sucking the life out of my eyes, and I didn’t want to chance anymore hallucinations of statues, or lightning flashes of my reflection. I hoped no one else looked too closely at me today, and I guessed that ditching school and leaving my house were my best options for that. At least Mick didn’t really know what my eyes should look like normally, so I was safe in that regard.
I’d pretend I was normal for as long as I could. At least until ignoring it was no longer an option.
Mick
I’d shocked Holland by showing up at her house unexpectedly this morning, but she’d shocked me when she accepted my invitation to skip school and go out with me today. I figured she’d turn me down, seeing as she’d become so distant during our last not-date. Though my showing up at her made it slightly difficult for her to ignore me completely, I still expected her to say no.
Once inside, the home was even more amazing. Her parents were obviously well off. I shoved my hands in my pockets, feeling out of place around their extravagant furnishings and probably-priceless art.
When Cam came downstairs, I was examining what looked like a painting that should be hanging in the Louvre, not in someone’s house in Dove Canyon. The woman depicted in the painting had a striking resemblance to Holland, and was about the same age. My stomach turned slightly as I realized that this painting may be of a very distant relative, and most likely just months before she changed, lost in the memories of this family forever. They would never know the truth about
what happened to her, or why she disappeared from their lives.
I wondered how the Briggs family coped with so many disappearances over the years, but I knew they’d concocted a story long ago, something to pass on from generation to generation. A story that pegged the women of the Briggs family with mental health issues, illnesses better left unspoken of…
Just like they’d say of Holland if I failed.
“Yo! Mick! What’s up?”
Cam high-fived me, then gave me a hug. The gesture was…unexpected. I’d expect him to be a bit wary of me after all Holland went through these past few months.
“Is your sister here?” He asked as he looked past me toward the front door.
Ah. He wasn’t wary of me because he wasn’t focused on me.
“Nah, man, Ro’s headed to school. I came to see how Holland is doing.”
“Oh. Yeah, not so good, bro.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead of trying to form words, I followed Cam’s movements around the kitchen.
“Have a seat. Coffee?” He held out a mug.
“Sounds good. Thanks, man.”
“No problem.” Cam set the coffee down in front of me at the breakfast island, and pushed over a silver platter, complete with a carafe of heavy cream, a small bowl of sugar cubes, and two matching silver carafes with little lids. They looked like miniature teapots.
“Those are my mom’s weaknesses. Coffee-mate.” Cam curled his lip. “Hazelnut in one, and French Vanilla in the other. She mixes them together—she’s made her coffee the same way as long as I can remember. Don’t know how she uses that stuff. My sister’s the same way.”
Cam drank his coffee without adding anything, then turned to leave. “Gotta split. Be good to my sister today, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
With that, he was gone, and I was left alone. I added some Hazelnut creamer to my coffee.
A few minutes later, Cam and Holland’s father came in and sat down across from me at the island. He was all business; neatly tailored black suit, blue striped button-up shirt with cutaway white collar, and a navy and red polka dot tie. He could have stepped out of Forbes magazine, or even GQ.
As he peered at me from across the table, I realized he must think I’m some punk kid. I sure didn’t dress the part of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and this guy definitely did. I pulled the beanie from my head, then stuffed it into a pocket in my jacket.
He cleared his throat and I immediately felt like I was back in school, a Professor glaring at me for one thing or another, and it took all I had in me to remember I was not in school, and this man had every right to analyze me.
“Sir. Good morning.” I stood and extended a hand across the table. “I’m Mick, Mick Stevenson.”
“Jonathan Briggs, Cameron and Holland’s father.”
“It’s nice to meet you, sir. May I call you John?”
“No.”
I sat back down when he did, and awkward silence ensued.
“So…” I said, needing to fill the dead air.
“So. What are your intentions with my daughter, Mick?”
“Come again, sir?”
“My daughter. Your intentions. What do you intend to do with my daughter?”
Perspiration beaded on my forehead and underarms, and I hoped Mr. Briggs wouldn’t catch it. Under normal circumstances, I’d say this was way too early to meet Holland’s dad, and have this kind of conversation with him. Then again, this wasn’t a normal girl, and these were definitely not normal circumstances.
I intend to save your daughter’s life, sir. How can you be so blind to what’s happening to her? But I couldn’t very well tell him any of that. He’d probably kick my ass.
“Well, Mr. Briggs, I think your daughter’s going through a lot right now, and I’d like to be the one—”
“What my daughter is going through right now is A) none of your business, and B) has been going on for months. I don’t expect you to pretend to understand if you’ve just met her, and I definitely don’t appreciate you waltzing in here, expecting to be the one to fix everything for her. It is presumptuous of you to even think that.”
“No, sir, I’m not saying I want to fix it for her—”
“Good. Then what do you want with my daughter?”
“I just want to get to know her, sir. Nothing more.”
“Nothing more, hmm?” He raised his eyebrows so high they were almost in his perfectly styled brown hair. He stared at me with eyes as blue as his daughter’s used to be, long and hard, as if trying to see if he could wait me out.
Holland raced into the room, a wide, clearly forced smile stretching her lips. My shoulders relaxed at the sight of her. Just minutes ago, she’d been a disheveled mess of bedhead and pajamas—not that I was complaining—and now, a mere ten minutes later, she was a complete knockout.
Holland
“Hi, Daddy! Why aren’t you at work?” I leaned over and kissed my dad’s scruffy cheek, then smiled at Mick and mouthed the words I’m sorry.
“Hi, Holly-berry. I was at work, but I had to run home for some papers I’d forgotten. And luckily I did. I was just getting to know your friend Mick here.”
Getting to know him, my ass. I could tell by the set of Mick’s shoulders, and the glint in my dad’s eyes that he’d given Mick the old Briggs’ Third Degree. I’d only ever seen it once before—when Rod and I began seeing each other as more than just friends. My dad reamed him a new one, acting like he hadn’t also known Rod and his family for Rod’s entire life.
I knew without a doubt that Dad just gave Mick the same treatment.
My dad’s cell phone buzzed, and when he glanced up at me, then Mick, then back at his phone, I knew he was needed at the office, but torn because he wanted to interrogate Mick a little while longer.
“Well, we’ll leave you to your business, Dad! Have a good day!”
I grabbed Mick’s hand and pulled him from the table, not waiting for my dad to argue. When he didn’t say another word, I realized I’d been right about the phone call, and it’d been the perfect distraction. As we exited the front door, Dad answered his phone and told whomever it was—I’d bet my left boob, his secretary was on the line—that he was on his way back to the office.
Saved by Lucille. I’d have to thank her next time I saw her.
Once we were outside, I let go of Mick’s hand and crossed my arms, rubbing them for warmth. The air was brisk even for February.
“Do you want to run back in and grab a jacket?” Mick raised one eyebrow.
“Nah, I’m okay. We’re not going anywhere outdoorsy, right?”
“Nope. I figured breakfast and a movie. Like dinner and a movie, only better.”
“Better, huh? Why’s that?”
“Pancakes.” He answered as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. He walked me to his truck with one hand on my lower back, then opened the door for me. After a few unsuccessful attempts at turning the key in the ignition, the old F-250 growled to life, bringing a smile to my face.
No wonder he didn’t hate Penny. His car was an old beast as well.
I patted the dashboard. “This could be Penny’s new boyfriend.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. What a lame thing to say!
Mick tilted his head sideways and glanced over at me, a smile pulling at his mouth.
I shook my head, my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and looked out the window. Moron.
“So, um, your dad seems nice.” Mick navigated the truck toward the end of my street.
“Ha!” I turned to face him. “What did he say to you—the old intentions talk?”
“Exactly. How’d you know?” He paused and waited for me to answer, looking at me as we waited for the gate to open and let us out of my neighborhood. Mick held my gaze intently.
I shook myself out of his stare, then pulled down the visor to look in the mirror. Had the gray spread further? I looked the same as I had in the bathroom, so I pushed the v
isor back up and pointed in front of us. The gate sat open, waiting for us to exit. “I just know my dad,” I said.
Mick pulled out of Dove Canyon and turned left, heading toward Foothill Ranch.
“So?” I asked.
“So, what?”
“So, what are your intentions with me?” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my lips when Mick blushed. I’d totally shocked him with my question.
“Oh, um, I—”
“Oh my gosh, Mick, relax. I’m totally kidding.”
After breakfast, where Mick happily indulged in the biggest stack of pancakes I’d ever seen—he wasn’t kidding about having a thing for that fluffy goodness—we pulled up to the movie theater around eleven forty-five, perfect time for the noon showing of the latest Nicholas Cage movie. We opted for the blood and guts B-movie over the token romantic chick flick, an anti-Valentine’s day comedy, and the kid’s glittering fairy movie because, well, none of those sounded quite as cheesetastic as Nicolas Cage.
With everything going on, I was in the mood for heavy cheese.
“I wonder if Nic Cage will be Nic Cage in this.”
“What?” Mick turned to me with that one eyebrow raised again. “As opposed to whom, exactly?”
“Well, you know what I mean. He’s always so Nicholas Cage.” I shrugged. “It’s like, even when he’s acting he’s still Nicholas Cage, you know?”
“Okay, examples?”
I grabbed the popcorn Mick handed me and headed for the butter station. “Well, let’s see. Name a Nicholas Cage movie where he wasn’t just completely Nicholas Cage.”
“Hmm,” Mick said as he doused his popcorn in cheddar-flavored powder.
Eeew. Cheddar powder? What was I even doing out with someone who ruined popcorn like that?
“Okay, I’ve got one,” he said as he turned to me. “Face Off. That was a good role for him, and a classic movie.”
“That was a good role for him because he didn’t have to stray too far from being Nicholas Cage.”
“Okay, how about Con Air?”
“Same character. Same everything. Different story.”
