by Xavier Neal
His jaw tries to help words escape yet, nothing. Silence. Pure speechlessness. I am beginning to enjoy that happening from people entirely too much.
“Or can you just not believe that I have more nuts than you because I did it dead in your face rather than behind your back like a punk bitch?” Blaze opens his mouth once more to retaliate, but the last smidgen of liquid courage remains. “I’m done. We’re done.”
Carmen nods her head my direction, the cigarette smell causing me to gag. “Still reigning champ of the night...”
“Wow,” Katherine sighs. “I don't...How could you...There's no way...I don't...I just don't see you doing that, Presley.”
“Not my finest hour,” I mumble, feeling shitty now, like I should've then. Soberly reliving the way you dragged three people through the mud because your pride was hurt, is one of the more painful experiences in life. “Maybe they deserved what I said. Maybe they didn't. What I know is that I shouldn't have said it. That's not the kind of person I was. That's not the kind of person I ever wanted to be. Even if I did feel all those things, or even if all those things were true, no one deserves their mistakes laid out for an audience then used like a weapon of mass destruction to destroy their reputation, their self-esteem, their self-worth. I know that there's a possibility that maybe the wounds didn't cut deep, but I know there's an even bigger possibility that they did. Actively hurting people isn't me. Wasn't me.”
“You accused Ryder of being two different people, but maybe he wasn't alone.” My shoulders slump. “Maybe you lashed out so hard when you found out about Ryder and Blaze living double lives, because you didn't want the attention on you for doing the same thing. You were being two different people. You were being the girl everyone was expecting and the lost girl you didn't want anyone to see. You were already pushing your honesty morals with the constant lying to sneak around and that party, that moment was a breaking point. Not only were you living a lie, you were no better than the people you were so livid at. You weren't the saint you were trying to make yourself out to be.”
Resting my chin on my folded arms that are wrapped around my knees, I shut my eyes. How are things truly any different now? No, I don't sneak around behind Xander's back having an affair with someone, but I stand in front of his co-workers and mine with the facade that Xander is someone he is not. That I am someone I'm not. That we are a couple in love when we're not. The united front doesn't make the lie we're living any less true. My eyes squeeze tighter at the realization that maybe I haven't grown up as much as I thought. Maybe I am still that woman everyone is expecting me to be and that lost girl who is wondering why she's let so much of her life pass her by.
Ryder
-“You were my family when it felt like I had no one else.”-
Finally to the point where the burn in my lungs out-weighs the bitterness in my brain, I collapse onto one of the patio chairs in the rec yard. Rubbing my chest I look out at the manicured foliage, the effort put into keeping it looking perfect, a mockery to the imperfect people inside the place it protects. I hate it here. I hate that constant self-decimation is the only activity here next to running, that gives me the illusion I've made progress against my body's proclaimed war on drugs. And fuck, I hate running.
“Good run?”
Doc's voice forces my face around. “Define good.”
He sits down in the chair across from me. “You don't like to run.”
“I hate it.” His eyebrows rise. “I've never fucking cared for it. Between drug stints when I'd swing that pendulum back towards 'healthy', I would go to the gym and bust my ass. Do a bit of everything. Cardio. Weights. Sometimes a class. Physically keeping myself occupied helped me fight the incomprehensible need to do something destructive.”
“You used working out as ammunition against your vices.”
My hand runs across my sweat soaked forehead. “It worked.”
“I've seen your files. Most of your time in here is spent there or in your room.”
With a small shrug, I lean all the way back.
“It also says you used to work for a couple dealerships around town as a mechanic.”
The more constructive memories are not the ones I cling to. I don't deserve them. I don't deserve the absolution that comes with them.
“You like cars.”
“I liked fixing them.”
“Do you see yourself returning to them when you get out?”
I don't answer. Not only am I not sure what the hell I can or should do when I get out, I'm not sold on the idea of getting out yet. Doc has raised some intriguing perspectives, Noah's unexpected visit rattled foundations I'm accustomed to standing on, but none of it erases this loathing inside for the deviant demon I became. It still lightly slumbers.
“Is your enjoyment of cars a family oriented trait?”
My eyebrows furrow. “No.”
“Your brother-”
“Noah is like my father. Sportsmen. Beer. Football. My mom much like my sister, hates the idea of the things that make you sweat because they can ruin your hair.”
“So a random interest?”
Reluctantly I reply, “That year we've been discussing? It had some different tones to it. I began to change in unexpected ways. I needed to make some cash. Believe it or not an expensive drug habit, a girlfriend, and a secret girlfriend, can't completely be kept on the allowance my parents transferred into my account weekly.”
“You didn't have to work?”
“The only job I was supposed to have besides trying to acquire an STD from the chicks who constantly lost at beer pong, was to graduate with grades high enough to get me into college.”
“And did you?”
“I graduated.” With a slow shake of my head I sigh, “Barely.”
The pause from Doc is brief. “We've discussed your hatred towards your father. You've explained to me how he ruined your relationship with Blue Dream. What about Bambi?”
Flatly I ask, “What about Bambi?”
“You've mentioned how family is important to you. Bambi met them. Their opinion of Blue Dream mattered enough for you to walk away from her. Their disapproval of Bambi must've spoken volumes.”
His conclusion makes my face twitch. He offers me a candy smoke. “Do you just, walk around with these in your pocket?”
His hard face remains emotionless. “I was on my way to your appointment. The one you intended on skipping today.”
I look away. I had every intent on not going up there. The constant chaos of recalling the magnanimous amount of forgiveness Presley graced me with and the constant heartache I put her through is beginning to weigh on me even heavier than before. I needed a day away. A day to rebury the demons I'm not ready to face.
“Take it,” he demands. I do. “Talk.”
Raising the chalky flavor to my tongue that hates its presence I start, “When my family finally met Bambi, I was already at a breaking point. My old friends were pissed off about my horrendous behavior. I was doing more than blowing them off. I was actively talking shit about them. Alienating myself from the person I was when I was with Pres. I lied to myself claiming it was to keep up appearances, but truth was, I hated being around them because they reminded me of how shitty of a human being I was quickly becoming. Between them and the never ending judgment from Bambi's friends, I was beginning to feel like a waif...”
“You’re cheating on me!” Bambi shrieks at the top of her lungs like a poodle. She does so many things at that volume it's excruciatingly painful, not to mention can kill a buzz like very few other things.
I roll my eyes. “I'm having Sunday dinner with my family like I do twice a month when Noah comes home from college.”
“Then bring me.” Instinctively my face frowns. “What? Are you ashamed of me?”
In so many ways. “No. I just...I don't think it's a good idea. We've barely been dating-”
“It's almost Christmas time! We've been dating for months!”
God, it has been months.
More months than I ever thought she'd last. More months than I wanted her to last. Rubbing my temple, I struggle to find a legit reason to make her get out of my car and walk inside her own house.
“I'm meeting your family,” she declares, digging into her purse. When she pulls out a makeup compact she squeaks once more. “I'm so excited!”
Barely audible, I whisper as I back of her driveway, “That makes one of us.”
The drive back to my house is uncomfortable. My high has worn off and the fact that bringing her home for one of these dinners is not only something I have no desire to do, but basically pisses all over something I had been keeping sacred. Presley belonged at these meals. She was shining. She was glowing. She was hard to resist wanting to be around. Even though my dad didn't want us together for whatever ludicrous logic he conjured up while wasted on beer, he could still see what a great person she was. I'd still use the word great now, but something is changing. I like to think she's just playing the role she's found herself in, but getting drunk and calling me out on bullshit in front of an audience was fucked up. Almost as fucked up as the text that was passed around of Bambi's face on a deer with the comment underneath 'What Coke Can Do For Her' that circulated shortly after. She says it wasn't her, but I don't know. She's never given me a reason to doubt she's telling me the truth, but I'm not the only one hiding something. Sure, she has no idea about the amount of drugs it takes to keep my sanity while waiting for this school year to pass so we can run off together, but that's not that big of a deal to keep from her. It's not gonna matter as soon as we're in our own apartment, away from these people, away from all the judgments.
With a heavy sigh I pull into the driveway noticing everyone, including Noah is home. As they should be. Dinner should be starting any minute. Giddy, Bambi gets out immediately while I mope out behind her. This is going to be a fucking disaster.
We enter through my front door to the smell of pasta and garlic bread. Noah's favorite dish. Great. He's either in a pissy mood or they're praising him on his latest accomplishment. I'm feeling shittier and shittier about this.
Bambi grabs my hand. I announce, “Mom…I’m home. I brought my girlfriend to dinner.”
“You finally got back together with Presley?” she calls from the kitchen as we make our way towards the dining room.
Immediately Bambi snaps at me, “They don't even know I exist?”
“It's complicated.”
“You're in so much trouble,” Bambi whines, entering the area where the rest of my family is already seated.
Before I have a chance to make introductions, my mother appears around the corner with a large bowl in her hand. “You're not Presley.”
“Bambi, that's my mom, my dad, my sister Liz and my brother Noah.” With a wave of a hand, I announce, “This is my new girlfriend, Bambi.”
They all warmly greet her at the same time we sit in the seats across from my brother and sister.
“So excited to totally be here,” Bambi giggles. “It's like a big thing for me to be here, right?”
“Not really,” my father bluntly states. “He used to bring home Presley all the time. In fact, she rarely missed a Sunday dinner with us.”
The information causes Bambi to pout, but more importantly mass confusion for me.
Noah gives my father a glance, before asking, “You two just start dating?”
“Of course not,” Bambi sneers, passing me the garlic bread. “We've been dating for months.”
“Months?” Liz questions sharply. “Are you sure?”
“What do you mean, am I sure?” Bambi snaps back. “How could I not be?”
Cautiously Liz takes the lasagna plate from Noah. “I swore I saw Ryder and Presley together like a week ago.”
Bambi kicks me under the table, but I bite my tongue. We went to the movies. Neither of us felt like the long drive to the far theater, so we went to the one in town. Most of our friends were in class. She weaseled her way out of her last period and I had pretended to go home sick. It was a foolproof plan until I saw Liz between classes at the local college she's attending until she transfers abroad. She was shopping at the mall with some dick in a leather jacket. I pretended not to see her just like she pretended not to see me. She didn't actually see Pres and I together, but she must've seen both of us.
“Nope,” I deny. “Haven't been together since almost the start of the year.”
“Such a shame,” my mother softly sighs. “She was a doll.”
There's a huff from beside me, which is when Noah, chimes in, “And I'm sure you're a nice girl as well, Bambi. You excited about your last year in high school?”
“I have another year to go. I'm only a junior.”
My sister sneers her nose at the idea as she has a bite of her bread.
Promptly my mother questions, “Have you already been looking at colleges? I remember when Liz was reading up on some last year and they asked for submission requests as early as the end of your junior year.”
“Not really.” She shakes her head. “College really isn't my thing.”
“Isn't your thing?” Noah echoes.
“College parties. Oh yeah,” she continues to ramble. “College itself? Meh.”
“Meh?” my dad speaks up. “Did you say, meh?”
“I mean, what's the point if you just marry someone rich, like my mom did, ya know? I mean my mom talks a big game in front of my dad about me going to college but she doesn't mean it. She wants me to do what she did. Marry someone rich so they'll take care of you, and then just stay home. I'll shop and get manicures or pedicures.”
Certain this nightmare can't get any worse, I have a bite of my salad just as my mother asks, “Do you think you want kids?”
“God no,” she chokes out. “Stretchmarks are gross. Plus that would be less money for Ryder to spend on me.”
A piece of salad goes down the wrong pipe causing me to choke furiously. I beat my own chest desperate to get the wedged lettuce out of my throat almost as desperately as I am to get Bambi out of my life. Marry her? I don't even like her!
Liz bites, “Can you hear yourself?”
“Sounds like an interesting notion,” Noah mumbles between bites. “You and my ex-girlfriend would've gotten along pretty well. She had a lot of the same views as you.”
So the reason why we're having his favorite meal is leaked. He loses his girlfriend, my mother caters to him like a dying hospital patient. Me? She can't even remember we broke up.
Wiping his hands and then his mouth my father looks at me. “Can I talk to you for a moment in private?”
“You and Ryder don't have many of the same classes, right?” My mother tries to steer the conversation in a less humiliating fashion.
Bambi oblivious to the moment continues rambling while I follow my father out of the dining area, through the adjoining kitchen, around the corner and down the hall where we walk past the living room to the garage my father has turned into a man cave.
As soon as the door shut behind me he snaps, “Give me one good reason not to knock the shit out of you.”
Perplexed, I toss my hands in the air. “What?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What the hell do you mean, what is wrong with me?”
He points sharply at the door. “What are you doing messing with that…that…that...”
In a harsh whisper I gripe, “You told me to date other girls!”
“I didn’t tell you to pick from the bottom of the barrel!”
Defensive, I lie, “She’s a nice girl-”
“I’m sure she’s a nice piece of ass.” She gets the job done with a little help from some of my chemically enhanced helpers, between chances to be with Presley, but I keep that to myself. “But you need to cut her loose.”
“Why? You tell me to dump Pres because you don’t want me trapped by one girl, so I take your advice and date someone else and you want me to ditch her now?”
“That girl in there is a
mistake. She's a leech.”
Well aware of that obvious fact, I fold my arms across my chest, not in the mood for his bullshit. Not with the inability to get high to forget how most of this is his fault. How in a way me with Bambi is a direct result of his shitty advice.
