"Cut the shit, Madison. Churches split all the time. What makes you so certain yours split because of you?" Dean argued.
"Because I had
sex
with the youth minster!"
I spit out before opening my door.
By the lack of shock on his face, I could tell he already knew. Of course he did. Everyone knew. The box of poison notes in the Coffin under my bed proved that. For an
entire year, I had endured crumpled up papers filled with hatred being chucked at my head. Everyone knew most of my secrets, but they didn't know all of them.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not on your life," I said, climbing out of the jeep.
Dean climbed out of the vehicle and trailed me to the front door. "When does your mom come home?" he asked.
"I don't know, eleven or so. She doesn't have to get up early tomorrow, so Friday nights are always late. Why?" I asked, confused that he'd changed the subject so abruptly. It took a moment for it dawn on me. He was so disgusted by my adolescent actions he'd prefer to ignore them. I didn't blame him, since that's pretty much what I had been doing for the last four years.
"I don't like you being home alone at night," he said, taking my keys from me so he could walk through the door first.
His concern was laughable.
"Don't be an ass. I've been home alone almost every night for the last four years," I said, trailing behind him.
"Do you want me to hang out until she gets home?" he asked, worriedly scoping out my house to make sure no one was hiding in the shadows.
Although I felt like I'd been put through the wringer tonight, I couldn't help being touched at his protectiveness.
"God, no.
Donna would have a coronary. I'm not supposed to have friends over," I admitted.
"For how long?" he asked, finally done checking the area where we were standing.
"For as long as I live here. It's never really been an issue since she's never here to check. Anyway, with the exception of you and my friend James coming over a few times, it hasn't been a hard rule to follow."
"What is she: a warden or a mom?" he grumbled, heading down the hall.
"Hey, where are you going?" I yelped.
"I'm checking to make sure the rest of the house is clear before I leave you alone," he said through gritted teeth.
"That's pretty sweet of you, but seriously, Dean, you can't come over every night to make sure my house is safe," I said.
"Maybe not, but I'll be damned if I'm going to drop you off in a dark house that anyone could have broken into while you were out."
"You watch a lot of horror flicks, don't you?" I said as he scoured the rest of the house.
I held my breath when he entered my room.
My sanctuary.
The one place that no one else entered.
Four years ago, I had ripped the room apart, trying to erase what I had done. It no longer resembled the room it once had, but as Dean slowly walked around the space, I felt as if he could see through the facade.
"Nice," he said simply before heading out and back down the hall.
"Looks all clear.
Text me if you hear anything suspicious," he said.
"I'm a big girl, Dean. You don't need to swoop in and save the day."
"Humor me, okay?" he said, standing by the front door.
"Fine, but you're being ridiculous."
"If being ridiculous means you're safe, it's a good trade-off," he said, stepping close to me. Before I could wrap my brain around his motives, he planted a soft lingering kiss on my
forehead,
much like I had seen his parents do to his sisters when they tucked them in for the night.
"Just so you know, everyone has regrets, but it's fucked up to be continually punished for them," he said, giving me a searching look before he closed the front door behind him.
My hands shook as I locked the door behind him, trying not to think of his parting statement. After being around his exuberant sisters and loving parents, my house seemed like a mockery. There was no laughter here, no joy and definitely no love. I went to the fridge and filled a glass halfway with Coke and headed off to my room. I closed my door firmly behind me and opened the bottom drawer in my dresser. Digging around under a pile of old clothes I never wore, I finally extracted a half-f bottle of Jack Daniels. I wasn't a heavy drinker, but I'd learned long ago to always keep a bottle on hand for times like this. I poured a generous amount into my glass before crawling onto my bed. The first gulp of the drink burned going down, but it had the desired effect, a warm buzz started to spread throughout me. A couple more drinks, and my senses began to dull. My empty life didn't seem quite as bad once my glass was nearly empty. It no longer mattered that my parents never tucked me in at night or that any pictures we had of me were closed away in some drawer. It didn't matter that my fears were confirmed. I didn't care that Dean knew I had sex at thirteen. Really, I didn't.
I woke up the next morning to the ding of a text coming through on my phone. I grimaced at my extreme case of dry mouth and pounding headache. Jack may have dulled my pain at the time, but he sure was a bastard the day after. I took my time rising from my bed to make sure the room wouldn't spin. Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I saw the text was a morning greeting from Dean. He was definitely tenacious. Once I knew that the only side effects of my liquor indulgence were the pounding headache and dry mouth, I set my phone back down and stowed the Jack Daniels back in my drawer before I staggered off to the bathroom to shower.
Avoiding the mirror, I slathered toothpaste on my toothbrush and scrubbed my teeth and tongue until they were begging for mercy. Feeling a little more human, I climbed into the shower and let the hot water cascade over me. I mulled over my near panic attack from the night before. In the light of day, things didn't look quite as extreme. Dean's words ran through my head on an endless track. He made it all seem so easy. Was it possible to forgive my previous sins? Maybe the world and I really could move on.
Energized with sudden inspiration, I finished up my shower in record time, and toweled off just as quickly. I threw on my normal attire and trotted out to the kitchen with my plan at the ready.
Donna was already at the kitchen counter, eating her morning yogurt.
"Morning," she said, not looking up from her paper.
"Morning," I replied, leaning on the counter across from her. Second thoughts began to creep in as she ignored me, continuing to peruse her paper. I finally decided to plunge right in. "Um, Donna?" I said tentatively.
"Yes?" she asked, lowering the paper slightly.
"Uh, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get some lunch, and maybe do a little shopping," I stuttered out, feeling like a complete fool.
"I have other plans," she said dismissively, washing her spoon off and throwing her container away. "
"Oh, I was hoping to get some new clothes," I said, hating myself for sounding so plaintive. I was breaking the rules here. We could coexist as long as I didn't need her for anything besides shelter and food.
She looked at me critically, obviously trying to analyze my sudden desire to do something together. "I'm meeting the women from my bible group for lunch, and then we're catching an early movie. If you need new clothes, you're going to have to take the bus, or I can drop you off at the mall tomorrow after church," she said, scooping up her purse off the counter. "Or just order them online like you have been. It's not like your wardrobe ever deviates," she said, heading for the front door, leaving me behind with a cloud of her Estee Lauder perfume still hanging in the air.
I waited until I heard the front door close before sinking down to the floor. Talk about taking the freaking wind out of my sails. I was an idiot.
Possibly the stupidest person on Earth.
What had I been thinking? Just because I was slowly changing didn't mean she was.
All my energy from before drifted away and I slowly made it to my room, feeling dejected and depressed. I eyed my dresser where Jack was stored. I could numb everything again. Forget about her rejection and the hurt I felt. I took a step toward my dresser when I heard my cell phone ding again.
Sinking down on my bed, I scooped up my phone from my table and saw I had missed several texts from Dean. I scrolled through them until I got to the first one.
Hey do you have plans today? D
Are you there? D
I have an idea for today. You game? D
If I don't hear from you in the next few minutes I'm going to assume you're in. D
Okay time's up. I'll be at your house in thirty minutes. Wear comfortable shoes. D
What a goof. My depression magically lifted as I read through his messages.
The idea of getting out of the house for the day seemed ideal.
K.
I texted. I still sucked at the whole texting thing.
Sweet.
I was afraid I'd show up and you'd be snoozing. D
Nope. I'm up.
I answered, tossing my phone on my comforter so I could finish getting ready.
My phone dinged again as I was pulling on socks. Glancing down, I was confused over his message.
;) D
;)?
I texted back, figuring it was a mistake.
Boy you're texting illiterate. It's a winky face. D
Flipping my phone to the side, I tried to make out his "winky" face.
Where's the nose?
I texted.
Got eaten by shark attack.
D
Nice. This looks more like a winky face to me ;o)
I pointed out.
Well, you'll have to let the honchos over at Facebook know. They have a whole line of smiley emoticons missing their noses. D
That's despicable. And they call themselves a cutting-edge company.
I texted, smiling.
I could see myself getting used to the whole texting thing.
Funny.
I'll be there in five minutes. D
K.
I texted before stowing my phone in the oversized front pocket of my hoodie.
I was waiting on the front steps of our porch when he pulled into our driveway a few minutes later.
"Good, I was going to tell you to wear a jacket," he said, taking in my hoodie. "We'll be outside the majority of the day."
"Where are we going?" I asked, climbing into the front seat.
"One of my favorite places, baby," he said, putting the jeep in reverse.
"Seriously?"
I asked, knowing exactly where we were headed.
"It's time to broaden your horizons," he grinned at me.
I returned his grin. Smiling still felt awkward, but I was slowly getting used to it. The hour-and-a-half drive passed quickly as we talked about the movies from the night before. I wound up coming clean about zoning out during the action movie, so he spent the majority of the drive going over the plot. I sat back with my head against the seat
listening to him. His warm radio voice washed over me as he walked me through the entire plot in his typical animated way. He was a born commentator.
I actually began to feel butterflies in my stomach from the excitement as he pulled off the highway, following the signs leading us to our destination.
"Here, my ticket's in there," he said, handing me a worn leather wallet. "We get free parking with the preferred tickets my parents buy," he explained as I handed over his ticket while he pulled up to the parking booth.
"Would you like preferred parking?" the attendant asked.
"Sure," Dean said, handing over a five and waiting for his change.
"Turn your hazards on and follow the signs for the preferred parking," the attendant said, handing over a ticket. "Have a nice day."
"You too," Dean said, switching on his hazards as he followed the signs leading us to the preferred parking.
"I thought you just said you get free parking?" I questioned.
"We do, but you can pay the three dollar difference for preferred parking and get even closer."
Trying to act cool, I tried to control my gawking as he drove up the ramp leading into the parking garage. Signs from different movies designated the parking areas. Keeping his hazards on, Dean followed the parking attendants who were directing traffic into the
Spider-Man
section.
"Ready?" he asked, switching off his hazard lights and placing the parking slip on the dashboard.
"Absolutely," I said, opening my door.
We walked hand in hand, following the crowds of people as they boarded the escalator-style moving walkways. I tried to pull us in the direction of the nonmoving sidewalk that ran parallel with the moving walkway.
"Whoa," Dean said like I'd grown an extra head. "Trust me, you take the free ride when it's offered," he said pointedly, hopping onto the moving walkway. I shook my head and walked on the sidewalk beside him. I'd grown accustomed to walking.