by Seven Steps
Can Eric be right? Can there still be a way through? A way past all of this? Can I still achieve my dreams?
He tenderly brushes a strand of red hair from my face, and I find comfort in his touch. Then, he sits me down in a nearby chair, takes a tissue from the teacher’s desk, and dries my tears.
I allow myself three seconds of loving him. Of missing him. Of wanting him. The force of my emotions steals my words. My breath.
Here, in this room, with me a mess and him picking up my pieces, my heart beats hard, as if trying to burst through me.
Our eyes meet. His are so gentle. So kind. So… Eric.
Of their own volition, my hands wrap around him, clasping behind the small of his back. His warm core heats my entire body.
I stand up.
His hands rest on my hips as if they belong there.
“Eric,” I whisper.
“Yeah, Red?”
He doesn’t move. He just looks at me, as if expecting me to say something or do something.
I take a deep breath. If I said or did what I wanted to do, it would make my life even more complicated than it already is. Feelings would rise within me that I have to keep at bay.
I can’t go back to Eric. He has a girlfriend. Plus, he’s lied to me. And, I can’t break any more. I’m already too broken.
“You’re a good friend,” I say. The word ‘friend’ hangs between us, like a big, red, ugly balloon.
Sadness flashes across his face before he hides it behind a smile.
“I try,” he replies.
I step out of his embrace while I still can. The room feels hot and off-kilter, and I know that If I stay here one minute more, I’m going to do things that will send us both spiraling out of control.
I need air. I pant, trying to get oxygen into my lungs, but it’s like all the air is around Eric, and now that I’m leaving him, I’m suffocating.
“I have to go.”
I grab my bookbag and head for the door. I throw it open, desperate to get away from him. Angry at myself for being weak. Even angrier that I want the weakness.
“Stupid, stupid,” I hiss at no one in particular.
The moment I step into the hallway, Sophia and Michael come around the corner.
They look at me.
Then they look behind me.
I’m one hundred percent certain that Eric is standing in the doorway of the classroom I’ve just walked out of.
I can only imagine how I look. Disheveled, red-faced, and swollen.
Michael’s eyes pass between Eric and me for several long seconds. Seconds where guilt fills my heart. I haven’t done anything. Why do I feel like I’m on a walk of shame or something?
Sophia lets out a puff of air, grabs my hand, and drags me out of the school and back to her car, slamming the door.
There’s no sign that Michael has followed us.
Where did he go? What did he think?
“What was that about?” she hisses at me. “Are you hooking up with Eric?”
I shake my head as if trying to clear away a fog. Eric’s smell lingers in my nostrils. My arms goose bump where our skin touched. My heart beats hard. Everything within me wants to run back into that school and jump into his arms, never to be free again.
But that’s impossible. Eric and I can never be again.
I clear my throat, trying to remove the lump that has formed there.
“No.”
“Then what were you doing locked in a classroom with him? Were you making out or something?”
“No. We were just talking. That’s it.”
She huffs, pulls some tissues from her glove compartment, and dabs at my face, as if that will make it less red and blotchy.
“It didn’t look like you were talking.”
I grab her wrist, stopping her from her futile blotting.
Her eyes widen in surprise.
I repeat my words to her because they are the truth.
“We were just talking.”
She snatches her hand away from me.
“Fine. But that’s not what it looked like to Michael. It looked like you were making out with your ex-boyfriend when you were supposed to be in business class.”
Ex. That’s right. Eric’s my ex-boyfriend. He’s an ex for a reason. I remind myself of how his lies have shattered me. How they destroyed my soul. How he has a girlfriend. I can’t be with Eric.
“You’re right. I should explain myself to Michael.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And are you finally going to give him a chance?”
“I’m giving him a chance.”
“No, you’re not.” Her eyes blaze. “You’re leading him on.”
I frown at her, offended by her words. “What?”
“You’re giving him I like you signals, but I don’t think you do.” She sits back in her seat. “I think you aren’t allowing Michael to get close to you because you still love Eric. If your heart isn’t with him, you should let him know. It’s only fair.”
Anger I can’t explain explodes inside my chest.
“I don’t love Eric.”
“Then why are you leading Michael on?”
“You don’t know anything. I’m not like that.”
“Aren’t you?”
How can Sophia, my best friend, say these hurtful things to me?
I’m over Eric.
I have to be.
I push the car door open and stomp back toward the school in time to see Michael walking out, with Eric a little behind him.
“Hey,” I say, my voice breathless.
“Hey.”
“Ready to go?”
Michael’s eyebrows rise, as if he’s surprised at my words. He looks over his shoulder at Eric, then looks at me.
I keep my eyes steady on Michael, not wanting him to see me flinch.
“You sure?”
No.
I nod furiously. “Yes.”
“Okay.”
I keep my green eyes steady on his hazel ones.
I have to focus now.
Eric is my past.
Michael is my future.
Isn’t he?
23
We have Mrs. Grim’s famous tacos for dinner. Mine is full of black beans, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and sour cream, while my sisters add shredded pork to theirs.
Daddy’s taco, meatless like mine, remains untouched on his place. Him not eating is not a good thing. Not a good thing at all.
“I received a call from Mrs. Fleck today,” he says, lacing his fingers together and looking at me.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to maintain an air of calm even though I know a storm’s coming.
“She said you weren’t paying attention, and that you left class early and never came back.”
Of course she’d call my father. I expected nothing less from such a horrible woman.
“She called me a ditch digger,” I say.
“And that’s exactly what you will be if you don’t get your act together. Consider this your last warning, Ariel. You’re already grounded. Next, I’ll have to start taking things away, starting with that video game system you love so much. Then your computer. Then your phone. If that doesn’t work, it will be your room. After that, I’ll have no other option than to send you to boarding school to finish out your junior and senior year.”
I suck back a black bean and choke on it, sputtering all over my plate.
When I’ve finally swallowed the bean, I look at my father with a shocked expression.
“Boarding school? Seriously?”
“If you won’t listen to me, then perhaps they’ll straighten you out.”
“You’d send your own daughter away?”
His eyes are steady on me. Never wavering.
“You would be the first, but you are also the most headstrong. The most driven. If those qualities were put to use working with me instead of against me, you’d be an unstoppable force. You’re on a ruin
ous road, Ariel. One that will take you where you don’t want to be if you’re not careful.”
He picks up his taco and takes a big bite, focusing on the aquarium behind my sister’s instead of me.
The conversation is officially over for him.
But it’s not for me.
I remember Eric’s words. I have to fight for this. I have to make him understand.
“Maybe I’d be more willing to compromise if you’d let me back on the swim team.”
“That ship has sailed.”
“Can’t we call it back?”
“Impossible.”
“What if you let me do both? I can go back to swim, and Mrs. Fleck can give me the homework and quizzes to do on my own.”
“That would give you an unfair advantage over the other students. I can’t have that.”
“No, it won’t. It will actually be unfair for me, since I won’t be in the classroom. Can we at least try? If I fail the next quiz, you can pull me from swim again. But if I pass it, you’ll let me stay on the team.”
It’s a brilliant plan, especially considering I’ve just thought of it.
“Those were not the terms we agreed to.”
“You mean the terms you dictated?”
Control your temper, Ariel. Don’t explode.
“Perhaps they were dictated, but they were also agreed upon. You will continue in this class with the other students. There will be no special treatment for you.”
Stay calm. Maybe he’ll listen to reason.
“But what if—”
“My word is final. I won’t be discussing this again.”
Don’t let him dissuade you. Make him listen.
“I’m your daughter, not one of your minions to order around. I should have a say in my future.”
“You do have a say. When I deem it appropriate.”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“If Mom were here, she’d listen to me.”
Why did you say it?
Though my sisters gasp, no pain goes across my father’s face. No mourning. I often thought Mom’s death has drained all the human emotion out of him. Now I know it.
“She’s not here, nor is she coming back. Your argument is invalid.”
“I wish she were here.”
“I’d expect no less from a girl who wishes for the impossible.”
How can he be so callus? So unmoved? So cruel?
“Just because you’ve forgotten her doesn’t mean I have. I remember her. I remember everything about her.”
“Not another word.”
“I remember her hair. Her eyes. Her smile.”
“Ariel, I said not another word.”
“I remember how kind and gentle she was.”
“Ariel—”
“But most of all, I remember you used to have a soul when she was alive. Now, you’re this wicked, evil man who doesn’t care about his children or even himself.”
His fist slams down on the table, silencing me.
All at once, his callous face changes, morphing into something I’ve never seen before. A face of sorrow. Pain. Sadness.
“Don’t you speak of your mother like you knew her! She was my world for thirty-six years. No one knew her like I did. Not you and not your sisters. If she were here now, she’d be ashamed of you.”
My heart stops. My skin goes cold. My hands shake.
“Now leave this table and get out of my sight or else so help me God I’ll have you on the first plane to Switzerland.”
Slowly, I stand, pressing my hands against the table for balance. I leave my plate where it is and walk to the door.
When I get there, I turn around.
“I’m not the one she’d be ashamed of,” I say.
My father’s face turns white, and I know my words have hit their mark. My stomach fills with guilt, and I flee to my room.
I’ve succeeded in my mission. My father has heard me. But at the same time, I hurt him. I saw it written on his face as clear as day. The anguish that curled through him at her loss. The anguish that curled through all of us.
I hate myself for what I did. I hate him for forcing me to do it. I hate my mother for dying, and I hate Duckie for not being here to diffuse the situation.
The poisonous feelings swirl through me, keeping me from sleep, making me restless.
There’s only one thing that will calm me down.
One thing that will turn my brain off.
I put on my swimsuit, march through the quiet house, and dive head first into the pool.
I swim until my arms burn and my lungs hurt. I swim until my feet cramp and my body turns into a wrinkled prune. Then, when I can barely move, I swim some more.
This is what makes sense.
Not Daddy at that dinner table.
Not Mrs. Fleck in her classroom.
Not Eric in the darkness.
It’s this. The water. This is my life. This is who I’m meant to be.
24
It’s still relatively early, around midnight or so, and, though I’ve swum hard for over an hour, I still feel worked up. Frustrated. I dial Sophia’s phone, but it goes straight to voicemail.
God only knows where she is and who she’s with.
I scroll through my contacts before stopping on Michael’s name.
I remember my promise earlier. I have to give him a chance. Maybe he’ll surprise me with some words of wisdom that would help me feel better. At this point, any distraction will be welcomed.
Focusing on that hope, I click on his name and hit the call icon.
He picks upon the second ring.
“Ariel. Hey.”
He sounds chill, like he’s just been sitting around waiting for my call. My stomach twists, my mind telling me this isn’t who I wanted to be speaking to. But, I push past all those feelings. If I’m going to give Michael a chance, this is our start.
“Hey. What are you up to?”
“The usual. Hanging out playing a game.”
He plays video games? Well, this is promising.
“You game?”
“Yeah, totally.”
“Me too.”
He scoffs. “Ariel, you don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“You know, pretend you’re into video games because I’m into video games. I’m not one of those guys who forces his girlfriend to watch him play video games and calls it a date.”
My top teeth cut across my lower lip. I force the raging feminist in me to be calm.
“No, I’m not pretending. I really do like to game.”
“Really?” His voice goes up an octave in disbelief, and I suck in air to keep from saying something that will immediately end our conversation.
“Yes. Really. What do you play?”
He rattles off a list of sports games and any hope that I have of us bonding over gaming systems is deflated. Still, I press on.
“I’m more of an RPG kind of girl. I like Open World stuff, you know?”
“Really?” He sounds genuinely impressed. I stuff down how offended that makes me.
“Yeah. Right now, I’m playing Ogre Wars.”
“I’ve heard of it. Not really my thing. If I’m going to play an online multiplayer game, I want there to be a ball involved.”
I shake my head incredulously.
It’s fine, I tell myself. If we don’t like the same games, that’s totally cool. I’m sure we have other things in common.
“There’s a gamer’s convention downtown this weekend,” he says. “I was thinking about going if there are any tickets left.”
Oh, right. The gaming convention. I almost forgot.
“I have an extra ticket, if you don’t mind doubling with Eric and Purity.”
He pauses for a minute, thinking.
“Yeah. I guess that will be cool.”
“I’m in the Ogre War tournament. There are going to be a hundred other gamers competing.”
“So, how are we gett
ing there? Do you want me to drive? My car is kind of on the fritz.”
Um... was he even paying attention to what I said?
I force myself to be calm.
“Eric’s going to fly us there.”
“Fly there? Like on a plane?”
“Yeah. He has a private jet. We’ll grab breakfast on the way.”
“Awesome. I’ve never been on a private jet before.”
Daddy has several. It’s how we mainly travel. But I don’t mention it because I don’t want Michael to feel bad.
“So, what time are we leaving?” he asks.
“Seven or so. I’ll confirm with Eric.”
He pauses again.
“What’s up with you and Eric?”
My heart beats a little faster.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You guys just look… cozy… I guess.”
I try to make my voice nonplussed. “We’re just friends.”
“Did you ever go out?”
I want to lie to him, but I don’t. “Yeah. For a few weeks back in November. We’re broken up now.”
“Anything I need to be concerned about?”
For some reason, that statement really puts me off. What does that mean? Is he implying that, if we were official, I’d cheat on him with Eric? Has Sophia told him something?
“No. Like I said. We’re just friends.”
Another pause. I’m beginning to understand these are his, ‘I really don’t believe you, but I’m saying okay anyway’ pauses.
“Okay.”
I let out a breath, and the line is silent for so long I think he’s hung up on me.
Then, I hear a can top pop and the swish of a person jumping onto a leather sofa.
“So, have you thought about what you’re going to wear to the winter formal?”
Crap on a stick.
The winter formal is coming up. I’ve been so caught up with swimming and Daddy and Duckie and Eric that I completely forgot about it.
“It’s just two weeks away,” he says.
“Yeah. It totally slipped my mind. Now I’ll have to scramble last minute to make my dress.”
“You make your own dresses?” He says it as if I just told him I made my clothes out of people’s skins.
I clear my throat, trying not to regret this phone call.
“Yeah. It’s kind of a tradition in my house. When a special event comes up, we all pitch in together to make the dress. My sisters and I are actually pretty good.”
