Take Me With You

by Melyssa Winchester

  The drawings before, they’ve been animals. The first one being a phoenix, the next one a pure white dove flying in the sky and the last one, the one taped directly beside my bed is of the bluffs, the restaurant we sat at when I told him my deepest darkest secrets, complete with two animated people sitting in chairs at a table outside.

  His attention to detail is unmatched and while the people don’t exactly look like actual people do, it’s as close to perfect as it gets, at least for me.

  This though, it’s different from everything he’s drawn before because this time, it’s not an animal, a location or any other random thing he pulls from his mind.

  This time it’s me.

  “How did you do this?”

  “Do you remember the other day when I was waiting for my mom to pick me up and you were waiting to see Dr. T?”

  “Yeah. You were drawing me the entire time?”

  Instead of answering me he blushes and almost like it’s contagious, my cheeks flush watching him.

  “I was actually sketching you, but yeah. Same thing.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have posed or something.”

  “If I told you that I wanted to sketch you, it would have ruined everything. You wouldn’t have let me and then it wouldn’t be as natural as it is.”

  He’s got a point. If he did mention that he wanted to draw me, or as he says, sketch me I wouldn’t have done it. It would have been too embarrassing. There are so many beautiful things in the world that he could be spending his time focusing on, putting focus on me seems wrong.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Not as much as the real thing.”

  Sliding the sketchbook back in his bag and putting it back on the floor, he leans over until his lips are brushing against mine. Because we’re in public, this kiss, it won’t be as intense as the ones he gives me when we’re completely alone, but it means just as much.

  “Mmm.” He moans when he’s finally back in his seat. “Bubble gum.”

  The first time we kissed after our movie night, the first night in my daily storm watch, he asked me how I always managed to smell like bubble gum. Thinking he was joking, I blew it off, but being as persistent as he is, he didn’t let it go until I told him.

  Knowing how much he likes it, I didn’t want to show him. I didn’t want anything to break the illusion and the joy he seems to experience every time he’s near me, but show him I did.

  Bubble gum flavored Chapstick. My big secret is something that cost me less than a dollar.

  “I’m starting to think I’m not the only one that needs help with addiction.”

  “You might be right. I should look into it. How common do you think bubble gum addiction is?”

  “I take it back, I think it’s a lost cause. You’re the only one.”

  He grins and his cheeks go red and my head threatens to explode from the happiness it brings me.

  Rose calls my name, signaling my turn in what we’ve started calling the hot seat, but before I can stand to go, he reaches across, stopping me. Thinking that he’s going to lean over and kiss me again, I scoot closer, but he stands instead.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going with you.”

  “What?”

  “You forgot didn’t you?”

  Pulling his phone from his pocket, swiping across the screen a few times until he finds what he’s looking for, he passes it to me and I’m met with my own words from the night before.

  Will you come in with me for my appt tomorrow?

  I blush the minute I see the words because I remember sending the text, but it completely slipped my mind.

  “Do you still want me to come in with you?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t remember.”

  He leans his forehead down until it’s resting comfortably against mine and he runs his lips across my nose before backing away and tapping it with his finger.

  “Nothing to be sorry for, I just wanted to be sure you didn’t change your mind and wanted to go in alone.”

  “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

  ~*~*~

  He hasn’t let me go through an appointment alone since. It’s not exactly right, him coming in with me, since our sessions are supposed to be private, but Dr. T doesn’t push it. He knows how hard admitting everything has been for me and he also knows how I feel about Eric, so he allows it.

  If the way he’s been in the sessions is any indication, I think he might even support it.

  Opening the drawer beside my bed, I reach inside, pushing things aside looking for it.

  This drawer, there was a time where the only time it got opened was when I needed relief from the nightmares. It had a singular purpose and would never be used for anything other than making the pain stop.

  Moving my hand around inside until it makes contact with exactly what I’m looking for, I pull it out and just like every other night since he gave it to me, place it over my heart.

  This is exactly what I need right now. His sketch of me, the one that he said he drew so that I could see what he sees when he looks at me, it’s going to be the thing that gets me through the rest of this night and into my first day back tomorrow.

  It’s more than just a picture to me. It’s a constant reminder that I’m the one that controls my life and what will happen to me in the future. It’s a reminder that I’m not as alone as I think and that there’s one person in the world that cares, even when like right now, we’re not together.

  It’s the real me, the one that no matter what I walk into tomorrow, I’ve got to let the rest of the world see.

  Amy left school almost a month ago and she’s so angry she won’t ever be coming back, but there’s someone better coming in her place.

  Amelia.

  Me.

  Eric

  Four hours.

  Two hundred and forty minutes.

  That’s how much sleep I got last night with all of the thoughts running through my head.

  Two hours.

  One hundred and twenty minutes.

  The time it took me to put together what I’m about to put into motion now.

  Most of that time was spent looking up her address because despite being with her for the past few weeks, where we lived has just never come up. Meeting randomly all over town along with the time we spend at Dr. T’s office, it’s just always been more than enough.

  Well, maybe not more than enough because when I’m with her it kind of seems like there isn’t enough time at all before we’re apart again, but there’s just never been a need to push for anything else.

  After talking to my mom when she woke up at six, explaining to her what I wanted to do, she just smiled, went back into her room and didn’t come out until she was dressed with car keys in hand.

  I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull this off the way I wanted to, but it seems like my mom’s made a few connections since we moved here in the fall and the one area I was afraid would crash and burn, she makes happen effortlessly, explaining on the way to the car that she pulled in a favor and got me what I needed. Flowers.

  So here I am now, standing outside Amelia’s house, the first time I’ve been this close without her knowing about it and my heart is in overdrive. There’s no sign of life inside, which is not surprising considering it’s only been forty five minutes since I asked my mom for her help, but I don’t need anyone to be awake for what I’m about to do next.

  Walking up the driveway until I meet the stone path that leads to her door, I put the items I’m carrying down on the top stair, making sure that the paper is secure underneath the heavier item, not backing up until I could be sure it wouldn’t blow away the minute I turned my back.

  Heading back to the car, my mom smiling at me through the window, I slide myself in and immediately pull the seatbelt across my lap until I hear the click.

  “You’re a pretty amazing kid, you know that?”

  “Only because I’ve got a pretty awesome M
om.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smile, but more than that, I see the wetness building up in the corner of her eyes and where any other time it would worry me, thinking that I said something wrong and made her cry, this time I know it’s because she’s happy.

  “What you’re doing for this girl, it’s a really nice thing.”

  “I just hope she sees it that way.”

  “Oh honey, how could she not? She’s going to love you almost as much as I do when she sees what you’ve done.”

  Is that why I’m doing this? Did I put all of this together because I love her and I want her to love me the same way? No, it can’t be that. I’m not entirely sure what love feels like, but I’m pretty sure it takes a whole lot longer to experience than just a few weeks. I’m just doing this because I want her to know that I’m thinking about her. It’s that simple.

  “No one can love me as much as you. It’s impossible.”

  The first tear falls down her face, but as she wipes it away, I hear her laugh which just confirms I was right earlier. These are happy tears. What I’m doing for Amelia, she thinks it’s sweet.

  “I think you might be right about that. When did you become so smart?”

  It silly and cheesy, but because I know it’s going to make her even happier, I don’t even think it through, I just say the first thing that pops in my head.

  “The day the doctor gave me to you.”

  “Alright,” she says through her now flowing tears. “Enough of the mushy stuff.”

  “You started it, Mom.”

  “I still can’t believe it.” she says, completely changing the subject and now I’m curious what she means. What is it that’s so hard for her to believe?

  “Can’t believe what?”

  “How far you’ve come. Eric, when I found you last fall, the empty bottle of pills on the floor, I thought for sure I lost you. That our time together was over and I was going to say goodbye to you. I know I haven’t always been the best mom or even the strongest, but I never want to face this world without you in it. I don’t even want to imagine a world where you aren’t a part of it.”

  We’ve never really talked about this before. We’ve glazed over it, her admitting that she felt like a failure, not seeing the signs in me before I came home that day and took her pills, but that’s as far as it’s gone. Hearing her tell me what losing me would mean, it hurts. I never want to make her feel like that ever again.

  She thinks she’s been a bad mom, but the truth is, she’s been the best mom. No one could have done it any better than her. It’s not like the doctor passed her an instruction manual when he diagnosed me. She had to learn the same way the rest of us do. By trying the only way she knew how.

  “Mom, are you and Dad gonna split up?”

  Way to go Eric, bring up the worst topic ever.

  ‘Why would you think that?”

  “I’ve heard you guys fighting.”

  The way her face sinks in, I can tell that she doesn’t like what I said. Knowing about them fighting, she doesn’t wanna know that because she thought that it was her secret. The thing with secrets though, they always find a way to come out in the end. She wasn’t going to be able to keep this from me forever.

  “No; we’re not going to split up.”

  ‘Why not?”

  “Because despite what you’ve heard, your father is a work in progress and I don’t like to walk away from a task until it’s complete.”

  This is why she’s my mom and the only one that could ever be my mom. Her answer, it’s the exact one I needed to hear in order to understand. I’m not sure if she realizes it or not, but any other answer to this question wouldn’t have worked on me. This answer though, it makes everything crystal clear.

  She’s exactly like me.

  “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “Everything.”

  “You gonna explain what you mean by that?”

  “For always being honest with me, even when it would easier to lie. Accepting me even though I’m pretty sure this isn’t what you signed on for when you had me. For jumping in the car at six in the morning because I needed to do this before she wakes up. Never giving up on me when I’ve given up on myself. Mostly, thanks for being the best mom in the world.”

  “Everything.” She says, her voice barely audible, what I’ve said getting to her a lot more than she thought it would.

  “Every single thing, Mom.”

  “Do me a favor would you?”

  “Anything.”

  “No matter how hard things get, how much the world and some of the people in it try and drag you down, break you…don’t let it. Don’t ever change.”

  “Deal.”

  Turning the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life, she throws me one final look before motioning with her head toward the house that we’re still sitting in front of.

  “Let’s go home.”

  Amelia

  Waking up to the sound of my alarm after a few weeks of not having to worry about it at all, getting up whenever I felt like it or when the nightmares would leave me alone long enough to actually get some sleep, it feels like I’ve been transported back in time.

  Groaning just like it’s any other day, I sit up in bed after hearing it go off for what feels like the hundredth time. Reaching across and hitting the power button, I throw myself back down onto the bed, wanting to enjoy a few more minutes of peace before I really do have to get up.

  It’s too bad my mom doesn’t feel the same. I hear her call my name, even though I can tell by how muffled it sounds coming through the door that she’s doing it from downstairs. Unsure of why she’s calling up to me when she knows I’ve still got an hour before I have to be ready to leave, I slide from the bed slowly, stretching out completely the minute I’m on my feet.

  Hearing my name again, I make my way downstairs as quickly as I can, not sure what’s going to be waiting for me when I reach the bottom, but more than a little eager to get her to stop calling out to me.

  “What’s going on?” I ask once I find her in the living room. Looking beside her, I see the flowers first and moving closer, I see that underneath them, there’s two pieces of paper.

  Did she really just wake me up because someone dropped off flowers for her?

  “Care to explain this?” she asks and following her hand, I see she’s pointing at the very things I was just wondering about.

  “I can’t because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “These were on the front step this morning. A note with your name underneath. It’s only when I brought them in that I saw the picture as well.”

  I see her lips moving after the word picture, but I can’t make out a word of it because there’s only one person that would bring me a picture.

  All of this, it’s from Eric.

  Heart melting activated.

  Moving over to the sofa and snatching up the papers first, holding them securely under my arm, I reach out for the flowers but not before my mom reaches out at the same time, her arm coming to rest on top of mine.

  “What is going on, Amy?”

  “Nothing. I dared Tim to send me flowers. I guess he did it.”

  Not willing to give her anything more than that, I pick the flowers up, noticing the minute they’re in my hands that they’re a mixture of a bunch of different types, some that I don’t even know the name of. Turning away from her, I make my way back up the stairs until I’m safely back into my room with the door locked behind me.

  There’s no way I want her interrupting now.

  Placing the flowers down onto the bed, I slip the papers out from under my arm and seeing the sketch first, I put the note down with the flowers and give it my full attention.

  It’s a sky, but not an ordinary one. It’s one that’s completely lit up by a bunch of lightning strikes. Running my fingers over each of the strikes, I feel the paper raised under my fingers and wonder how he managed to make that ha
ppen. It’s like this picture, it’s real. The lightning is literally popping off the page.

  It’s the most beautiful picture I’ve ever seen.

  Not wanting to let it go, but wanting to read what he wrote me, I place it as gently as possible down onto the bed, even more carefully than I did with the flowers and I pick up the note.

  Amelia

  I thought that by now we would have had a storm so that what I told you that night at the movies, you’d be able to see what I meant. We haven’t, which means I’m going to draw one as best I can and hopefully make you see what I was trying to say.

  If it works the way I want it to, the lightning is going to be raised on the paper. The reason I want it to do that is because I want you to know that what I’m about to say next is as real as the grooves and lifts in the paper. The same goes for the ripples on the page, the ones that mean thunder.

  Lightning, when it happens, it lights up the sky. Every single strike can take the darkest sky and turn it bright in just a couple of seconds. Thunder, it’s so loud sometimes that it blocks out all other sound until all you can hear is it. If you look at the picture, you’ll see all of this.

  You’re my perfect storm.

  You’re the lightning that makes my sky brighter every single time we’re together and you’re thunder because whenever we’re together and you kiss me, laugh at my corny jokes or smile, it makes my heart beat so loud and so fast that it’s the only sound I can hear. It’s the only sound I want to hear.

  Even though it’s not the real thing, I hope it’s enough to make things clear. You wanted to know. Now you know.

  See you at school <3

  PS: I never asked what your favorite flower was, so I just ordered one of each type they had. I hope your favorite is somewhere in there. I wanted you to wake up today to something as beautiful as you are.

  PPS: Nothing will ever be as beautiful as you are.

  I have no idea what I was so worried about last night. There’s no way after what I just read, what he’s shown me that this day can be anything other than perfect. He wouldn’t allow it to be and doing all of this for me, making sure I woke up to it just proves it.