Knee Deep

by Jolene Perry

  I’m taking eighteen credits and working almost a full workweek. I know I’m sort of running myself into the ground, but it’s helping. I feel better, slowly. I’m glad you’re getting back on track. I guess I am, too. It’s like I still don’t know how to take a deep breath. I hope you get what you need in order to feel like yourself again. Let me know when you do.

  Luke

  Luke’s letter is a rejection. Let him know when I’m ready to talk and hopefully he will be, too? How am I supposed to take that? Tears make thick, silent trails down my cheeks. Of course he needs space. Everyone should want space from me. I obviously ruin everything I touch.

  I roll out of bed, no way I’m sleeping right now. My first day back at school is tomorrow, and I’m sure rumors are flying. Dad suggested I come up with a simple explanation that would satisfy curiosity. There is no simple explanation.

  The house is dark and quiet as I step through the living room. Hushed voices carry from the kitchen.

  “I should know what to do,” Dad whispers.

  “Maybe she just needs time,” Mom replies.

  I take two more steps and see a faint light. I stop.

  “How did I not see it?”

  Mom sniffs.

  “I mean, this is my job. I knew something was up. I just…I didn’t know.”

  And isn’t this even more confirmation that I’ve hurt everyone around me? My silence over the past few days affected them more than I thought. I turn quietly around and go back to my room. There will be no sleeping tonight.

  ~ 22 ~

  “Thanks for picking me up.” I flop down in Mindy’s car. Just a few weeks ago, I was still walking with Luke and Shawn.

  “Of course.” She smirks. “I shouldn’t have to endure the first day back at school alone.”

  “Where’s Paul?” I ask.

  “Taking his own car.” She shrugs. “I don’t want to be with him every second, you know? I need my own stuff.”

  “Right.” Only all I’ve ever done is find ways to be close to Shawn. So I really don’t understand.

  “I can barely see your bruise through your makeup, and I’m totally looking for it.” She leans forward.

  “Is that supposed to be encouraging?” I ask, checking my reflection, again, and still wishing I never had to go back to school.

  “Yep.” She grins and sits up taller, looking smug.

  I let out a breath. “Thanks.”

  My eyes follow the familiar houses along the familiar route to school. But it all feels surreal, unfamiliar. I’m different. Life is different. Like I’m not really Ronnie, I’m the broken up shell of whatever’s left of Ronnie.

  “Don’t worry.” Mindy’s eyes try to catch mine. “It won’t be that bad.”

  “Right.”

  She’s silent. She has no idea.

  ***

  We’re sitting in first period artand I’m afraid to look at anyone, as if they’ll know by my eyes everything that happened.

  “Hey, Ronnie.” Alan calls from the back. “I heard Shawn’s in jail because of you.”

  My gut sinks. That’s pretty much as bad as it gets.

  “No, asshole.” Mindy swivels in her seat. “They got in a fight. Shawn’s in jail because he’s a big prick and Ronnie isn’t.” She sticks out her tongue. Maybe hoping some amount of immaturity will diffuse the tension.

  It works.

  I grab her in a sideways hug, not looking back, and kiss her on the cheek.

  “Your dad said I should have something to say,” she whispers. “Close to the truth but not too close, you know?”

  I nod. That was good of Dad to talk to Mindy. I’ll have to remember to say something to him. But first, I just need to get through my day.

  ***

  When I walk in from school, Dad’s on the couch in front of the TV. This is new. He’s supposed to be at work.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Your mom is almost done with her current project, so she’ll be late.” His eyes only meet mine briefly.

  “Not with Mom, Dad. With you.” I drop my pack and sit next to him.

  “Just needed a day. We all do sometimes.” His eyes slowly float to me. I hate seeing the sadness there.

  “Please stop this.” Dad being home like a bum in front of the TV is somehow about me, I just know it, and it’s a reminder that I messed up.

  “What?”

  “I heard you talking to Mom the other night.” That should be enough to prompt some sort of explanation.

  He looks down. “I should have seen, Ronnie. Been more forceful. And there’s no way I should have let you go to Shawn’s house by yourself.”

  “You were trying to give me the space I needed, Dad. Nothing wrong with that.” It’s so weird being in the position of trying to make him feel better.

  “There is when it ends in something like this.” His wide fingers touch the outside of my eye.

  “Dad, I didn’t think it would end like this.” Maybe I should have seen it coming, but it really was movie-like dramatic—not real-life dramatic.

  “If you hate your group…” he breathes out. “I mean, I know it would be good for you, but if you hate it and want to push it off, you can. But you have to know I’ll be over-protective of you in the meantime.”

  “Dad, I’d rather just go than have you feel all weird about it. I don’t want home to be uncomfortable.” I pull my legs onto the couch and stare at my knees as I wrap my arms around my calves.

  “I know you don’t want to do it, Ronnie. But the class will help you way more than seeing someone like me.” Dad’s eyes are on me, but it’s too much. Too intense right now.

  “I know.” I think again about that lady’s story, and how I almost stood up and told mine because hers seemed so tame. It’s so weird that this part of my life is slowly becoming real—something that actually happened.

  ***

  I shake up the last of the caramel popcorn before bringing it out to watch TV with Mom, Dad and Mindy. One week of school down. Group therapy tomorrow. Life is not at all how I expected it to be last semester, but I’m living it, and we’re okay.

  “What is this?” I wrinkle my nose at the TV.

  “Some new courtroom thing.” Mindy rolls her eyes. “My parents love it, too, but your house comes with popcorn.”

  “Right.” I sit next to her and she and I dig in like we always do; like if it takes us longer than five minutes to eat the bowl, the rest of the popcorn may disappear. But as I watch, a thought occurs to me.

  “What happens if Shawn wants a trial?” My eyes find Dad’s.

  He swallows once (never a good sign) and exchanges a brief glance with Mom. “Then you’ll be asked to testify.”

  “Right.” My body goes numb. Bad, icky, tingly numb. “This all just sort of sucks, doesn’t it?” I’m so glad Mindy’s here right now.

  “It pretty much does.” Her blonde head rests on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll help ya.”

  Right. I have Mom, Dad, Mindy, and even Ben if I ever asked him for something. The thought of sitting in the witness chair and talking about what happened between Shawn and me pretty much goes on a list of things I never, ever want to put in my notebook. Funny that most of the things on my never-ever list are things I didn’t even know should be there until they happened.

  ***

  There’s a soft knock on my door. “Ronnie?” Mom whispers.

  “Yep.” I’m on my back staring at the ceiling, hoping I never have to see Shawn again.

  “I just need a sec.” She steps just inside my room. “About the trial.”

  “Well, now it sounds inevitable.” I scoot to sitting and lean against the wall, even though I don’t feel like leaning.

  “No, no.” She shakes her head. “We’ve spoken with the DA and with the defense as well. It looks like he’s just going to plead out. Dianefeels terrible about the whole thing and is pushing him to finish the rest of his senior year in detention in Sacramento. She’s moving to be close
to her sister.” Mom’s face now looks puzzled. “Did I…I mean, did you feel pressure to be with Shawn because of me?” she asks.

  Great. So both my parents feel guilty. “No. Because of me.” I slide back down. Maybe now she’ll leave me alone.

  “Okay.” She takes one step back and pauses before leaving my room.

  As if the sympathetic stares from school weren’t enough.

  Life will be so much better when everyone’s forgotten about all of this. Except for me. I won’t forget. I can’t imagine that.

  ***

  After a few weeks at school the questions are gone; the looks are starting to fade. I spend more time on my homework than I ever have. I do theater again. Arsenic and Old Lace this time around. I’m playing one of the old ladies. I have no desire to play someone in love. And this time, when I step into rehearsal, I know people. I get smiles and congratulations on my role.

  I’ve gone back to group therapy each and every week—there’s only two left. Being the silent girl suits me. Last week I was tempted to say something when a girl younger than me started talking about how she shouldn’t be there, but I kept my mouth shut.

  Dad has started to ask me if I’m ready to see Shawn. He thinks it’s important. I do not. I know it’s a subject that won’t be dropped.

  I think about Luke every day. It’s better, but it still hurts. I’m terrified to write him or call him, which sucks on a million different levels. It sucks on the friendship level, and it sucks because I love him in a way I didn’t recognize until I’d made a mess of everything.

  Life simply continues. I just want so much more. Something is missing and I don’t know how to fill the hole.

  ~ 23 ~

  I fiddle with my phone like I always do at the beginning of group. Luke and I have started sending each other texts—it started with mine.

  Ronnie: SAW A 6 YEAR OLD WITH THE SAME T-SHRT AS YOU—IT WAS A GIRL WHO LOVES POWDERPUFF GIRLS.

  He responded a few hours later.

  Luke: I WILL NOT BE SWAYED FROM MY LOVE OF LITTLE KID T-SHRTS.

  This is what all our texts are like—just simple, funny observations—nothing serious. I smile when there’s a new one from him.

  Luke: CAFEPRESS TEES. I’M IN LOVE.

  We only text every couple days, but we’re talking, and right now that’s all I need. It doesn’t fill the hole left by Luke’s absence, but it makes it hurt less.

  The hum of voices as people file into class gets louder, and as I look around I realize that I know everyone’s name, and I’m sure most people know mine. We say names every week, mostly because we have someone new every week. It’s shocking in its own way. Are there this many assholes? And this many girls like me? It may be eight weeks but, really, the class just sort of continues on and rotates. Sort of like the women here.

  My heart’s suddenly hammering so hard I don’t think I can breathe. I know what she’s about to ask. Do we have anything to share ?

  “Does anyone have something to share today?”

  “I’m supposed to see Shawn this week.” It blurts out of my mouth before I can stop it.

  “Have you seen him?” Cynthia asks. She’s our ‘moderator,’ but really she’s a shrink like Dad.

  “Not since the night he was arrested.” I shake my head. I focus on her, but then my eyes travel around the circle. “It’s like I hope I’ve learned enough or changed enough to do it.”

  “Take someone with you,” Robin suggests. She’s a pale woman with raven-black hair; unreal beauty and I can’t imagine anyone hurting her. “I was okay until I left.”

  Carol, Kelsey and Jen all nod. I’ve never taken in their faces before, not really—I only look up when I have to. Facing Shawn seems really, really stupid. But they’ve all done it. Guess I can too.

  And then my turn is over, and we’re listening to someone else’s story. Not so bad. Not so horrible. I might even come back after my last week. Once or twice.

  ***

  Mom wants to visit Diane. Dad wants me to see Shawn. Closure.

  The word makes me want to gag.

  We pull up to the facility and it’s a beautiful March day. Weird. Shouldn’t it be windy or hailing or snowing or something? Even though it’s Sacramento in March?

  I don’t want to go in, don’t want to talk, don’t want to see him, but my legs pull me out of the car and walk me across the parking lot, my heart hammering louder with each step.

  I stop before we go through the front door and turn to Dad. “Really?”

  He stands a good ten feet from me. “If you want to leave we’ll get in the car and go.” He takes a long pause, letting me soak in his words. “But that’s not like you.”

  I clench my jaw. “Cheap shot.” He’s right. If I turn around here, I’m a coward.

  He chuckles behind me as I jerk open the door.

  It’s so normal in here. There’s a front desk and chairs and a few wooden doors leading somewhere. Somewhere that houses Shawn.

  I stand and rest my hands in the pockets of my jeans. Yeah, this is me, Ronnie, here to see my ex-boyfriend. And yeah, I’m the reason he’s here. Totally relaxed. No big deal. Right. Just because my heart’s pounding and my lungs can’t find enough oxygen doesn’t mean I’m nervous. I’m totally cool. This is all okay.

  Time means nothing as we wait in this white, sterile room. I don’t sit. Just stand. There’s too much nervous energy bouncing around in here for me to do anything else.

  We’re led back to a common area and there he is. Just like that. He’s sitting in a chair, ‘Shawn-style.’ His jeans fit him just right and his white t-shirt is snug across his chest. I resist the urge to reach out and hold Dad’s hand. He stops behind me and lets me walk forward. Shouldn’t there be guards or something? A glass wall? Protection?

  A guy in worn khakis and a plastic name tag hanging on a lanyard leans against the wall near Shawn. Guess he’s my protection.

  “Hey,” I say, stuffing my hands in my back pockets, when really I want them wrapped around my front.

  “Didn’t think you’d actually come.” He folds his arms across his chest.

  “Dad made me.” Shawn looks the same, but I know now that most of what I saw in him is what I wanted to see—as much memory as the present.

  “Right.” Shawn smirks with narrowed eyes. “Cause he’s into all that touchy-feely stuff, too.”

  I sit in the chair that faces him ‘cause I’m Ronnie, and I’m totally relaxed. Right. Relaxed, and still having a hard time with breathing, which is supposed to be a reflex. “This is so weird. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then it kind of seems like a wasted trip, huh?” He’s giving me the face he used to give his parents when he was annoyed. The one he tries to make unreadable.

  I’m not sure what to make of it. Luke was right. The boy who kissed away my cherry lips isn’t here. There’s probably almost nothing left of the boy I fell in love with. It’s so sad. I wonder if even Shawn realizes what he’s lost.

  “I don’t know.” Is it wasted if I don’t know what to say?

  “How’s Luke ?” I hate this face from him. This angry, frustrated face. I hope things change for him, get better, because right now he seems worse. Being here is supposed to make him better.

  “I have no idea.” I can’t sit back in the chair. My knees press together in front of me and my hands clasp together tightly.

  His brows go up. He can’t hide his surprise at that. “Mom wants me to finish my senior year in here.”

  “Is that what you’ll do?” I ask.

  “Probably.” He nods.

  “Oh.” This means no court. No testifying. No pointing him out behind the defense table. “Thank you.”

  “What does it have to do with you?” His brows come down.

  “I just…it would be hard, you know. To testify.”

  He sits back. “Yeah, well. Try living in here, Ronnie.” His posture is relaxed, but I know Shawn well enough to know every muscle is tight. “It’s not exac
tly fun times.”

  Dad tenses behind me.

  “I didn’t put you in here, Shawn. You did.”

  His face softens, and suddenly the Shawn I remember is here.

  We stare at one another for a moment, so much between us. What feels like a lifetime of experience hangs in the air.

  “Is this where we are? I never thought you and I would be fighting like this.”

  Crap. Sympathy tugs inside my chest. It would almost be easier if he kept on his angry mask. I stare at my lap, unsure of what to do. “How’s your dad?”

  I glance up and realize immediately it wasn’t the thing to say. He scowls. “Are you just trying to throw all the shitty parts of my life back in my face?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “That wasn’t…I was just … ” Crap. There’s probably nothing I can say to appease him right now.

  “Screw you, Ronnie. You didn’t try to stand by me earlier. I don’t know what would make you suddenly start now.” His jaw flexes.

  I open my mouth to apologize, but I just don’t think I have it in me to apologize to Shawn anymore. His life may have gone to crap, but it happens to people all the time. I stand up. Wow. Check me out. I’m just going to walk away. Walk out. And I’m okay with this. More importantly, I can do this.

  “See you Shawn.” I smile just slightly, turn and walk back towards the door we came in. Dad follows. I don’t look back. I know Shawn just well enough to know he’s still scowling. He knows the old Ronnie who would have turned around with a sympathetic face and called or written to apologize for something that wasn’t her fault. I’m not that girl anymore, and he’s a pale, pale shadow of the boy I fell in love with—more bitter than I ever imagined him being.

  “Are you glad we went?” Dad asks, as we step outside.

  Glad? “I don’t think that’s the right word, Dad.” I stand next to his car waiting for him to unlock the doors. “But I feel good, you know? Like if he can’t get to me anymore, I’ll be okay.” I’m sad for Shawn. It’s like it took me this long to realize I lost the boy I used to love and that he might not ever come back. And it is a loss. Maybe one day he’ll find that guy again, and the girl he chooses to be with will be lucky to have him. Or, maybe he’ll end up like his dad. Either way, I know I don’t want him anymore. And that doesn’t give me the relief I want it to. It makes my breath hitch and my knees feel weak. It’s really gone and over. Done.