Breaking Down Sydney (Sydney West #2)

by Brittney Coon

  “Details?” She wanted me to tell her I found “the one” and that my anti-love spell was broken, that one day she would have grandchildren. The details she wanted to hear were that Jason and I had kissed and fallen in love.

  “Jason was cool, but I don’t think it will work out.” The lie hurt my heart, but there was no way I could tell her the truth. She’d be all over me, wanting to know more. I couldn’t tell her I was a tramp when I first skipped off to California and one of my summer boys wanted to stick around.

  She sighed. All the hope that had been filling her eyes leaked away, like water spilling out of a broken glass. “Oh Sydney, I wish you’d be more like…never mind.”

  “More like who, Mother?” My tone was sharper than usual. I knew where she was going, and it caused anger to prickle my skin.

  She wanted to compare me to Amy, her best friend’s daughter. Amy was perfect in my mom’s eyes. She was only a few months older than me and had a job working at a local grocery store as a cashier. It was the kind of job that gave Amy the potential of climbing the corporate ladder and maybe moving up to be a store manager one day. Big whoop. Did I also mention Amy found a man to marry and was expecting a baby? I hated to be compared to such a square, to such a cliché! She was doing what society expected of her—settling down in life, accepting the little things life offered instead of taking risks for huge rewards.

  Mom shook her head, erasing the words never spoken. The anger was still inside me, pumping through my veins, but I wasn’t going to pursue the issue. How could I explain to my simpleminded mother what I wanted in the world? I wanted my name to be remembered after my death. I wanted high school students to curse my name because they’ll be forced to learn about me in their history books. To be a legend, to be immortal…that was what I wanted.

  Some would claim that’s what kids are for. They keep your family line alive, but they’re not you. Kids are their own person, though most parents don’t see that for a while. I wanted something to claim as mine and only mine. To be honest, I still didn’t know what that was yet, but I was looking for it. That’s what college is for, to find yourself.

  Instead of pouring my soul to Mom and having her look at me like I was an alien, I stood up and asked if she’d like more tea. She nodded and handed me her cup. As I poured my own tea, I was tempted to pour in some whiskey to make the day slide by easier. Instead I resisted and took in the pity in my mom’s eyes when I sat back down.

  She took her tea and sipped it. “Are you going to visit your father? Remember I said he’s not doing—”

  “I’m not going to visit him,” I replied coldly. I fell for that once, when he was first diagnosed. I walked into his room and he was pale and frail. He had just received a blood transfusion, and it hadn’t reached his face yet. Looking at him so sickly and thin reminded me of my great-grandma before she died. It was terrifying to see him look like a ninety-year-old when he was in his late-forties. I guess it was due to the meth and alcohol he abused all those damn years.

  One would think sorrow or pity would fill me as I stared at my father lying in a hospital bed. They would think I’d want to be with him and take care of him despite the past.

  I hated him the moment I laid my eyes upon his sickly body for everything he did to me and my mom, and that feeling made me loathe myself, which only fueled my hatred for him. It was a toxic cycle I found myself in whenever I thought about my father. As I stood at the foot of his bed, I thought about him screaming at my mom and pushing her into walls. I saw him breaking glasses, punching holes into the walls, and shattering my mom’s vase—my favorite vase.

  As they argued and fought, my sole mission was to save things, to keep the debris to a minimum. Mom would shout at me to go to my room. She didn’t want me to witness the violence. I didn’t listen. I’d hide stuff in my room because they never went in there. And if they were in my way, I’d stash things in the fridge. Even now, thinking back to the past makes my eyes sting.

  Hatred turns the best person into a hideous monster. It’s like a disease that kills and can only spew mean and, at times, damaging words. Hate takes away what makes a person a person, making them indistinguishable to those who are close. I didn’t want that to happen to me. If I avoided my father, the hatred was suppressed. All I wanted was to feel nothing toward him. He was a sperm donor. That was the extent of his parenting efforts.

  My mom lifted her hand as if to touch me, to soothe me. It hung in the air by an invisible thread, then fell back into her lap. She stared down at her pink polished nails, like something important had appeared there.

  “I don’t want you to have regrets when he…” She trailed off, not wanting to say the word.

  Dies. My father is going to die.

  My legs burned. They felt like they’d been hanging on the edge of the couch forever, not just a half hour. The urge to stand and run came over me, like a piece of cactus digging into my skin.

  “You know, I need to get back to the dorm. I still have to unpack, and Amelia needs my help with her broken heart.” I got to my feet as I finished saying the words, wishing to fly out the door and into the twilight.

  Her face fell. She reminded me of a broken china doll. I wished she could understand me, but it was never meant to be. She was always going to want me to do things I wasn’t prepared to do with my life.

  “I love you.” I stood next to her chair, waiting for her to stand and hug me. Her hugs were often more like she was hanging onto me like a lifeboat. It was ironic how many people thought I could save them when I was drifting out to sea myself.

  Slowly she gathered herself to stand before me and said good-bye. She snaked her arms around my waist and a breath was forced out of me as she squeezed.

  “I love you too. Don’t be a stranger.” Her voice was stern. She pulled me back so I could see her steel blue eyes and know she was serious.

  “I won’t, I promise.” She released me, and I was out the door before she could cry on my shoulder.

  I do love my mom, but the sorrow in her eyes killed me. She hated my father too and probably wished him dead during the last few years of their marriage. To have her wish come true must sting. That proved another quote I lived by.

  Be careful what you wish for because it might come true.

  Chapter Three

  When I returned to the dorm, Amelia was gone. She texted me earlier about having dinner with her family and spending the night. I hoped they were able to cheer her up somehow. I felt bad for lying to my mom, but I had to get out of her house. My father was someone I didn’t want to think about right now.

  The building seemed empty. Everyone had to have wandered down to the local clubs and bars that claimed to ID, but never did. Out of boredom, I checked my e-mail and found nothing interesting. I clicked over to my social networking page on Facespace and read some of my so-called friends’ statuses.

  Some people’s lives should be turned into TV dramas, I swear. One girl who I used to be BFFs with in elementary school posted a new picture of her two-month-old baby. It still amazed me girls I knew were having kids. Sometimes I wondered if there was something wrong with me, but it could be the other way around. There could be something wrong with them. After all, who doesn’t want to live life while they’re young? Raising a family doesn’t sound like something fun to do when you have so many years ahead of you to wait for things like that.

  I shook my head at a photo of a baby boy covered in chocolate cake. Thank God I never got pregnant from all the times I’ve had sex.

  After scrolling for a while and laughing at a picture of a cat hanging onto a tree with its claws with the message ‘Hang in there’ written under it, I decided to abandon Facespace. That was until a little ding came from my computer, causing me to jump.

  Someone messaged me. I sighed. It was probably Robby. That boy was obsessed with me because I wouldn’t date him. It wasn’t my fault assholes covered in acne and thick, greasy hair weren’t my cup of tea.

  Instead I
saw the name Jason. My heart did a flip and leaped into my throat at the sight of his name.

  Jason: Hey Syd. I already miss u! How are things going on your end?

  I licked my lips and tried to remember how to type. Before replying I said a quick prayer that he wouldn’t ask to webchat. My heart may stop, or I’d act like a fool, if we spoke face-to-face.

  Me: Slow. Had to help Amelia, she’s super depressed. We unloaded all our boxes into the dorm, but still need to unpack. How are u? I miss u too.

  It felt strange to type I miss you too. It was the truth, but I never actually missed someone. Sure, I missed my mom when I’d go to camp in Girl Scouts, but not gut-wrenching-I-could-die pain. I didn’t have it as bad as Amelia, but it was still there, awaiting the moment to take over me with grief.

  Jason: Just been catching some waves with Hunter. The ocean doesn’t seem to hold much since you’ve left. The beauty isn’t there anymore.

  My heart pinged. The ocean wasn’t beautiful without me? God, I was getting soft.

  Me: How’s Hunter doing? Amelia’s been a mess since we left.

  Jason: He walks around like a zombie. Guess the love bug infected them.

  Me: Yeah, they have it bad.

  I think it might’ve infected me as well, but I didn’t have a severe case.

  Me: What do u miss about me?

  It was a lame, childish question. A part of me was curious. I wanted to know how infected he was with the love bug.

  Jason: What do I miss? So much…the way your lips curved into a smile when I kissed u. The taste of your skin. Your blonde hair all over…Should I go on?

  A smile curled my lips so much my cheeks burned. It might have seemed like frivolous details, but I remembered Jason the same way. How his lips matched mine. How his skin was warm and tasted like salt and mint. My soul ached because of the distance. Seeing his words and not hearing his voice was torture. Why was winter break so far away?

  Me: No need, but I don’t dare to stop someone from complimenting me ;)

  Jason: Words can’t describe your beauty. God, I wish I could kiss u now.

  Me: Just stare at my profile picture. Maybe kiss your screen? lol.

  Jason: It’s not the same! I’ll end up with a smudge & no satisfaction.

  I laughed. Jason was hilarious. I could see him pouting at his screen, wishing the picture of me was the real version.

  Me: Smh. What should I do with u?

  Jason: Fly over here & do whatever u wish with me.

  Me: You’re a naughty boy. If only I had air miles to burn, I’d come teach u a lesson.

  Jason: What would u do?

  Me: Let’s just say a whip, handcuffs, and whipped cream would be involved.

  Jason: Damn…

  Me: I could go into detail if you’d like…

  Jason: My heart couldn’t take it. I’ll just dream of u and take care of the throbbing below the waist myself.

  Me: You’re always in my dreams and they are always wet.

  Jason: I fucking miss u!

  My heartbeat was in my throat. Just talking to Jason made me a bundle of nerves and livewires.

  Me: We must not let the demon love bug brainwash us! Do u want to be a zombie like Hunter? Be strong and don’t let him bite u!

  Jason: I don’t want to go out that way. What a mess. Don’t u be depressed about me either. We’ll see each other soon.

  Me: U call, what, 4 months soon? That’s 1/3 of a damn year!

  I bit my lip in frustration. Of course when I found a guy who could be mine, there had to be a lot of distance between us.

  Jason: Stop biting your lip.

  I gaped at the screen.

  Me: How did u know I was?

  Jason: I know u…and look at it this way…we can IM each other, a lot. Thank God for that.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. He knew me? That was kind of scary.

  Me: True. I couldn’t wait around for a letter. How did people do that?

  Jason: No idea. Plus we can also…*cough*…u know.

  A wicked grin stole my lips.

  Me: I can always send u a picture of me with only my bra and panties on…

  Jason: I was thinking more of sexting, but I’ll take whatever u provide.

  Me: You’ll have to wait. We have months. I’m not giving up the goods when this long distance thing has just started. What would I use to drag u along?

  Jason: You’re bad. I have to go, don’t get into trouble. It will take me a while to come save u.

  Me: Don’t worry I plan on being an introvert and organizing my part of the dorm. Amelia has gone to visit her family.

  Jason: Have fun with that. I love u.

  He loved me? I remembered that was one of the last few words I muttered to him. I had to. I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance to again, and I needed him to know I felt the same way about him as he did for me. But to sign off on it made the words seem more tangible, like we were in a real relationship. Could we last the test of time?

  Me: I love u 2. Night!

  I signed out and stared at the wallpaper of the sun sinking into the ocean on my desktop.

  What is happening to me? When did I get all mushy?

  “All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.” Andre Breton’s words drifted from my lips. What if love was what I’ve been yearning for, what I’ve been seeking? It was such a naïve idea, to fall in love. There are countless tales about it. I didn’t want my life to be yet another love story. How could that make me immortal? To follow in Juliet’s footsteps and die because I was denied my love? No, I couldn’t die like that, not for love.

  If not for love, then for what?

  There I go again, living off my damn quotes. Could that be some kind of condition? What if I had some fatal disease and one of the signs was living off of quotes? What a preposterous thought. Of course I wasn’t ill. I was tired. Talking to Jason took whatever energy I had left.

  Questions filled my head like a dam bursting. Love. How could a simple four-letter word cause such agony? So much has been lost for it: lives, trust, war, the possibilities were endless.

  Sleep was an old friend of mine, one who tried to evade me as I lay in bed. I was missing something. I didn’t know what it was. I never had trouble sleeping before. I just lay down and found a comfortable spot. Usually I was gone like the sun after it has been swallowed by the horizon. There was never a reason to take sleeping pills or have a soothing machine lull me to dreamland. What could be wrong?

  I rolled over and saw something sticking out of my duffle bag. It was dim in the room, and I couldn’t make out what it was. I squinted, but still couldn’t make out what the thing was. It bothered me that I didn’t know. Giving up, I rolled onto my back and tried to forget, but it was gnawing at my stomach. After letting out a sigh, I reached up and turned on the light under my headboard.

  Weak yellow light pooled on my pillows but didn’t vanquish the shadows as much as I’d wanted it to. The thing hanging out of my bag had more definition and more of an outline with the extra light. I could make out floppy ears and a long nose. My heart pinged when I remembered what it was, my Scooby-Doo stuffed animal Jason stole for me at the fair. I haven’t slept without it since he gave it to me. I got out of bed and snatched him.

  I lay back down, hugging him close to my chest. For half a second, I felt like a little girl needing her stuffed animal to sleep. That feeling disappeared when the aroma of Jason consumed me. With my eyes tightly closed, I could imagine lying in the circle of his arms. I clicked the light back off and the darkness helped my imagination. I fell asleep clinging onto Scooby-Doo and wishing I was holding onto Jason instead.

  Chapter Four

  The morning burned away as I organized my side of the dorm. The wooden bookcase held all my favorite novels, and my desk was already littered with paperwork. As for the twin-sized bed, it was covered with my favorite tiger blanket and Scooby-Doo was tucked underneath, along with a pillow.

&nb
sp; The walls were bare, for the most part. All that was on my side of the room was a poster of Emilie Autumn. I had to represent my favorite artist. I didn’t have any other poster or picture to put up. I didn’t need photos to distract me. Secretly I made my favorite picture of Jason my background on my cell phone. He was wearing his black swim trunks and was bare-chested. The sunlight danced off the water drops clinging to his bronzed chest. It was the best picture of him I had, one I’d stare at when the lecture in class got too dreadful, though I’d never admit to it.

  Around one o’clock, Amelia came back. She smiled at me while unpacking her side of the room, but her eyes still held a heavy sadness. My friend was an art freak and had covered the wall with posters of famous works. Amelia could stare at a painting for hours, admiring countless things about it. To me it was just a picture, and most of the time I didn’t understand what the art was portraying, let alone what it meant.

  “How’s your family doing?”

  “Fine. My little brother is on the soccer team and my mom planted some roses and they’re pretty.” She straightened a picture on the wall of what looked like red spots.