by Leanne Davis
“I’m going to miss this, Tina.”
“Me too, Missy. How many nights have we huddled in one of our beds, talking over things? Friends, boys, parents, grades…” I forgot in all my Max drama that a real change is happening to me. I’m really leaving. I vividly remember growing up here, and I’m so glad to have Melissa here with me.
The next morning, I don’t come out. I ask Melissa to swear she won’t tell anyone I’ve been crying. I pass it off as being sad to leave home. I hide in my room as if I’m just sleeping in. I keep waiting for the phone to ring, or for someone to rush into my room with news about Max. I wonder what excuse he’ll use for how he got so hurt. I doubt he will tell the truth. I get it now, Max isn’t that brave.
My disillusionment with him is overwhelming. I can’t believe I was so wrong about him. But now, I really think I am.
Still, no one comes to see me.
As the day heats up, I sit with my window open, letting the afternoon’s warm, pleasant breeze waft over me. I sit there on my bed, leaning against the wall, my knees drawn up to my chest, and let the hurt and sadness roll over me. I don’t know what I’m grieving for. Because I had sex? Or because it meant nothing to Max? Because I might have been in love? Or because I am in love? Or because Max can’t love me back? Or because of the plain sad fact that Max isn’t normal? Something vital is missing from him. That thought sits heavily on my chest.
I can’t wait to leave. Perhaps I’m running away from my problems, but nothing sounds better to me now. I can’t continue to see Max like a friend and/or surrogate cousin. I can’t be so nice to him, just for everyone else’s benefit. I need to move on. I have to get out of here. Make new friends, and mostly, start a new life without Max being in it.
That’s perhaps the hardest thing I’ve done yet. I can’t imagine not having Max around. It makes me ache when I think about losing him and fresh tears fill my eyes. It’s just… it’s Max. He’s so much a part of me. But he doesn’t want anything from me. I need to acknowledge that, and get the hell out of here in order to forget him. That is my goal. My destination. My total mantra. I intend to never see him again. We. Are. Done.
Voices coming from outside distract me temporarily from my sad, pathetic thoughts. They belong to my parents. My mom is screaming and laughing. I lean out my window and look towards the sounds. They have Dad’s truck pulled into the drive-through and I think their intent was to wash it, before they got into the middle of an all-out water fight. They are circling the truck and Mom’s trying to outmaneuver Dad with the truck as her only protection. She has the hose, and judging by the wet streaks on Dad’s shirt and dripping hair, she probably snuck up and got him wet. Now, it is only a matter of time before she pays dearly for that.
He fakes a left, and then goes right, almost snagging her shirt as she runs the other way. She holds the hose before her like a gun. “Don’t you come any closer, Will Hendricks!”
Dad straightens to his full height and puffs his chest out as he crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “You think you and that itty, bitty, little squirt gun can stop me?”
He’s grinning like crazy. Mom is too. She sprays him good… for about ten seconds before he manages to reach her and wrestles the nozzle away from her. He turns it around and douses Mom right in the face. Sputtering and screeching, she’s also laughing so hard, she nearly falls over. She gasps as she pushes away the endless water stream, now soaking her face and hair and dripping down her torso.
“I give up, I give up,” she pleads.
Dad nods with immense satisfaction and says, “About time, Ms. Bains. You should know better than to take me on!”
Turning, Dad heads over to the truck to start rinsing the almost dry soap while kind of muttering about it. He hates it when the soap dries on the paint. Mom grabs the bucketful of soapy, dirty water and flings it at Dad’s back. “You are sooo wrong, soldier.”
Grinning, she takes off at a dead run as far as she can flee. Dad’s got soap in his eyes, and has to use the hose to rinse it off. Now, he’s frowning and mumbling.
I’ve heard them use those nicknames before. Ms. Bains is mom’s maiden name, and Dad’s nickname of soldier is pretty obvious because he was one. They use it when they’re kidding around with each other. It’s a private joke between them, and something I’ve never totally understood.
More than once, I considered typing the name, Jessie Bains, into my computer just to see what comes up. But something always holds me back, even now. My courage falters after Dad’s words of warning. My curiosity can be irresistible, but my fear is undeniable.
Emily and Melissa arrive and are falling over each other, laughing and pointing at Dad. He aims the hose at them and sprays them with a few squirts. Still, they shriek in horror as if he’s dousing them with hydrochloric acid. At a full gallop, they burst into my room, where I’m watching the entire scene like a voyeur.
They are dripping water everywhere as they laugh in high, girlish squeals. I notice a pack of something and reach over to move Emily’s hand. Water balloons. “Come on! We gotta help Mom get Dad. Team Jessie all the way!”
It’s always all of us against Dad, because otherwise, we don’t stand a chance. I grin and jump off my bed. “Okay, come on, let’s sneak out the back and find her. She’s probably hiding in the barn.”
We laugh like little kids as we sneak out the back and run across the yard. I don’t see Dad anywhere. I wonder if he’s thinking the game is over. Mom softly hisses at us, “Over here.”
She’s holding the hose she uses in the barn for the animals, and glancing around as if any minute, the enemy will ambush her. Her wet hair is pushed back and some strands are slicked to her scalp. Her cheeks are full of color and her smile is bright and clear. She looks like one of us. When she notices Emily’s water balloons, she hugs her. “You’re a genius! Come on! Let’s get to work.”
And we do. We spend the next twenty minutes filling balloons and hiding them in one of the horse’s watering barrels. We have an entire arsenal prepared by the time we finish. We’re as wet as the balloons and my stomach hurts from giggling for so long, but still, we fill our weapons.
Mom helps us carry our munitions. She presses a finger to her lips as we start out of the barn and sneak around the side of the house. We can hear nothing. Dad might be inside. We try to muffle our giggles and have to stop a few times since we’re laughing too hard.
Dad’s truck is still parked in the drive-through, noticeably cleaner and gleaming. He even dried it all off. He’s so meticulous about it. But… there’s no Dad. We set our load of weaponry down, now out of breath. We glance at each other, still in stealth mode, without talking. We all kind of shrug. Mom motions for Emily to go into the house. “Be casual, like you’re just looking around. If he’s in there, ask him to come out to fix your bike chain, or something.” Mom instructs her.
Emily nods, biting her lip as if being sent on a mission of national security. She steps forward as the rest of us huddle against the house. Dad might be right inside. I whisper to be ready.
We wait. Emily is halfway to the front door. We are all staring hard, watching her progress, and remaining completely quiet. We’re a little freaked out by how quiet it is. The warm sun and sky that goes on forever in a brilliant blue, feel so good right now. Glancing at my sisters and Mom, I feel a sentimental rush of happiness filling me.
Then, as Emily steps under the carport, water, tons of it, pours down on all of us. Mom, Melissa, and I are thoroughly drenched. Bucket after bucket pours down on us in quick succession. There’s no time to react. We are so shocked. I scream when the cold, icy water falls over my head and torso.
With a collective squeal, we all run and look back… There is Dad, standing on the freaking roof of our house, and grinning his ass off, with a now empty, blue bucket in his hands. He has several other empty ones around him. I stare up at him, my mouth open in shock. My mom starts cursing at him.
“Will Hendricks you did not just do that!”
“Oh, yes! I so did, my little girls! Look at you guys! All prepared and ready with your silly balloons. You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight, Ms. Bains.”
Dad doubles over with laughter. He’s laughing so hard, the tears are streaming from his eyes. The sun shines off his blond hair and he stays standing on our freaking roof! I can’t help it. I start cracking up too. I mean, he’s right. No one stands a chance against him.
Mom’s not done. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Did you drag buckets of water onto our house? Specifically to pour on your own children?”
He’s still laughing so hard, he can’t talk. He’s nearly hyperventilating. So are Emily and Melissa. Emily is relatively dry. Mom is scowling and not laughing. “Get your ass down here! You can’t climb all over the freaking roof. That is not fair.”
“All’s fair in war, Jessie-girl,” he retorts before sitting down on his butt and laughing so hard at us, he only makes Mom madder. She kicks the lawn and stomps her feet, which is totally useless. But it makes us girls squeal even louder.
“Watch the temper, Ms. Bains. You know the kind of trouble it can get you into.”
“Oh, really? And what kind is that, soldier?”
It should be kinda gross, I know, but they are totally flirting. Mom’s mouth tips into a little smile and her eyes shine with mischief as their eyes meet and lock. I swear to God, if we weren’t there, he’d probably have added, “Trouble I’ll have to punish you for later.”
They truly love each other. I’m still smiling and my little sisters are squealing and dancing around the yard in glee. I feel kind of stunned by the obvious. I mean, who thinks about their parents actually being in love? Or their marriage? I don’t think I’ve ever looked at them with adult eyes before. But there it is. Love. Flirting. Romance. After all these years, with Dad thirty feet away, sitting atop a freaking roof, I can totally feel their love. The kind that I hope to have someday.
It hits me then. This is what I want with Max.
And Max knows that about me. Max knows he can’t give me what I want. And Max dumped me, hurt me, and refuses to be with me because of it. My heart clenches. In his own sad way, Max is trying to keep from hurting me. I shut my eyes as the pain of that knowledge consumes me. Still… I realize there is no changing how much I want that. Love. Real, abiding, and solid love.
Mom’s smiling as she turns to me and whispers something, with her eyes still glued on Dad. My face bursts into a grin and I nod and run off. With my dad’s gaze narrowed on us, he asks, “What are you two conspiring about?”
Mom plants her hands on her hips. She watches me to make sure I succeed in my job before she says, “Oh, I don’t know. One way up, one way down, genius.”
Dad’s face suddenly changes. He notices I’ve lowered his ladder, which is no longer leaning against the roof. He’s stunned, and kind of swallows. Mom got him! He knows it too. “Tiny, put that ladder back right now.”
“Gladly, Will Hendricks. Just give us a second,” Mom replies as she scurries forward, nodding at our balloon bucket and whispering what to do next. We carry it to the ladder, and raise the ladder… and wait. Right there. Right where Dad comes down. It’s a high enough roof that I seriously doubt he’d risk jumping. He walks to where the ladder now awaits him, and stares down at us. We again giggle with anticipation. He puts one hand over his eyes to block the sun.
“Well, shit. I guess… You got me.”
I can hear the defeat in his voice. He shakes his head and his mouth frowns with chagrin. Mom is doubled over. “Oh, if you could see the look on your face. The great Will Hendricks! Taken down by a bevy of girls!”
He waits a few minutes, but eventually realizes he has to take his own medicine. He turns and starts down the ladder only to be completely pummeled by all four of us. Throwing as many balloons as we can, we smack him pretty good in the short time it takes him to descend.
Then he falls down, grabbing Mom, and all bets are off.
Even as he holds Mom and douses her with at least ten more balloons, Dad is dripping wet; and for us to get him is total girl domination.
We can’t stop laughing and the water fight continues for another hour, expanding all over the yard. Buckets, balloons, hoses, hiding, running, and tagging. We laugh and get soaked until finally collapsing on patio chairs as the evening starts to close. No one feels like cooking; so we scrounge together some leftovers and eat outside together. Talking. Laughing. Never mind the dampness.
It is one of the best days I can remember for a very long time. As it grows dark, Dad lights a fire in the small firepit and we sit around, calmer now, just talking and being. The sadness hits me then. I realize this might be one of the last times I’m here with the family like this. As Christina Hendricks, their daughter. Not quite grown up. Not quite out of the house. It feels somewhat momentous. Today, for one last time, we are all together, The Hendricks. Half of my identity.
This, today, was my real going away party.
As I stare into the flames of the fire, the pleasant chatter of my family’s voices humming around me, and the stars blanketing the sky, my life really feels like it’s on the cusp of changing. Am I growing up? My family, this place, and this life will not be my whole identity anymore.
I am now on a quest to find the second half of my identity, which both unsettles and thrills me.
Chapter Fourteen
~Christina~
THE NEXT DAY, I missed both my parents when they left for work. I bickered with my sisters before finishing the collage I was planning to hang on my dorm room wall. It has pictures of me in my teens, with friends and family, at dances, parties, and hanging out at the river as well as riding motorcycles with my dad. Max was all over it. I spent the morning carefully taking him out. I cut and folded the pictures so it looked like I overlapped them. I almost totally eradicated him from my life. Now, I just have to get him out of my heart.
It is almost noon when my mom calls me, panicked and upset. She has news about Max. Of course, no one thought I knew anything. Max had apparently picked another fight and gotten the living daylights beaten out of him. (My mom’s words). They took him to the ER on Saturday night. He begged them not to tell anyone in the family. Ha! As if. Still, my stomach churns and clenches as I realize I left him there when he needed to go to the ER. It felt surreal. He didn’t actually seem that hurt in the moment. But now? I get nauseous when I think about what I did. I was so mad and disgusted at him… but now, he probably feels that way towards me.
Playing shocked and concerned, I hang up, then go back to thinking about him.
He’s going to keep fighting. He will always keep doing those bad things. What if he gets worse? Or turns to a life of crime? Or gets himself really hurt? Saturday night looked horrific enough to me, but Max acted so blasé with it all; I’m guessing it’s not such a big deal to him.
I start pacing my room, which feels way too small. I pace the living room. The deck. I walk out to visit Sugar, one of our horses. Nothing soothes my guilty brain. I can’t just walk away. I want to. I want to forget Max. I’m so mad, I want to leave here and never stress or worry about him ever again. But I can’t do it.
The eeriness of that locker room keeps replaying in my mind. It was so awful. The way he looked dead, all limp and helpless on the floor. Blood. There was so much blood. And that man. Simon. I keep reliving the chilling thought that something was going to happen to me. I was vulnerable and helpless, two things I’ve never felt before in my life. I was at that man’s mercy. If he decided to advance on me, he would have trapped me against the shower wall. I was not strong enough to stop him. Or fight him off. And even if Max had come to, he could not have helped me if the man really wanted to do something.
That thought sickens me. It sits in my stomach like rancid meat. Oh, my God. What did my poor mother have to live through? That question comes to me out of nowhere. And in a way I’ve never really felt before. Fear? Vulnerability? Terror? I’ve never experienced any of
them, or been the cause of them. I barely caught a glimpse of the horror that was my mom’s reality.
I feel weird. I can’t shake it. I’m so worried about Max, and what I know he’s up to. I don’t know what to do.
“Missy, can you watch Emily? I have to run a quick errand,” I yell into the living room.
I’m grabbing my keys, jamming my flip-flops on my feet, and ducking into my car as soon as Melissa mumbles, “Sure.”
I drive to my mom’s office. I can’t help it. I need her. I enter the vet clinic and there’s the new temp, answering phones now that I’ve quit. Noah sees me first.
“Hey, you hear about Max?” he asks, coming up to me. He pats my arm sympathetically and offers his comfort. He looks worn out. Damn Max! Why can’t he just accept us? We who love him? How can he fail to notice all the worry and concern on our faces?
I nod, playing along. “Yes, is my mom in back?”
“I think she’s with someone; give her just a sec.”
I pace the waiting room until the exam room door opens. My mom steps out behind a couple and their little Chihuahua. She wears her lab coat and smiles as she shakes hands with both people. When she notices me, her smile dims and she waves me towards her. Trying hard to restrain my tears, the minute I get near her, I fall apart. I start crying…. Yet again. She embraces me tightly, squeezing me close to her. We’re eye-to-eye, the same height, same build, same coloring, and same facial structure. We could almost pass for twins. She doesn’t even begin to look like she’s in her late forties. Her skin is just barely wrinkled around her eyes and mouth.
She takes me into her back office and shuts the door behind us. Holding me, she soothes me as I cry like a baby all over her.
“Is it Max?” she asks, quite reasonably. Smoothing my hair back, she tucks it behind my ear.
