Running Back To Him (17 page)

“I’m sorry, Mags,” he says, dejected. My eyes are locked forward avoiding his face. Looking at him would only pour more hurt into me.

He unlocks the door and opens it. It sounds like a breath hitches in his throat, like he wants to speak, but he gets out of the car and doesn’t even look back.

He peels out of the parking lot, tires screeching. For the second time it feels like he’s walking out of my life. But this time I know he’s gone for good.

Chapter 26

Mom worked the graveyard shift and was getting off at ten in the morning; more than enough time for me to stay in bed with a pillow soaked in tears and not have to battle with her about not going to school today. After last night there was no way I was stepping foot into school and suffering anymore ridicule.

I hear the doorbell ring. I wasn’t startled, it didn’t spur me to open my eyes. I’d just rather lie numb, far under the blanket, hidden from the world, hidden from shame, cloaked from disappointment.

I yank back my blanket more and groan. That’s the only emotion I had left, pure grunting; at about a quarter past one in the morning, my tear ducts dried up and I ran out of waterworks.

The doorbell rings twice more and finally stops. I curl up into a ball and roll over on my side to escape the slice of morning sun that penetrated my cotton sheets. I do wonder who it could have been. It wasn’t Lucas and it definitely wasn’t Kellen. I’ve made it abundantly clear that I want nothing to do with the former; and the latter wishes I’d go back to the girl he ignored for over five years. And to think, I’ve gave everything I had to both of them and helped them at their lowest point and I still get treated like three-day old road kill.

“Please, have mercy on me,” I say about the scratching noise that starts outside my window. Probably a tree branch skipping across the glass, that would only start make this noise now and not at any other time in the seventeen years I’ve been in this room.

Skip. Skip.

I growl, kicking my feet up and down on the mattress.

“Can’t a girl just skip school in peace,” I bemoan, my face muffed against the pillow.

The skipping continues and I throw the covers onto the floor and stomp towards the window only to see Justine on my lawn with a handful of rocks.

I unlock the latch and open the windowpane up.

“A few more and I think I would’ve cracked the glass,” she yells up to me. “I should’ve tried out for softball.”

“You wouldn’t have made it. Your boobs are too big. And you’re pigeon toed,” I say with a smirk. It feels so good to banter with her.

I drag my heels over to the closet to grab something warm to put on over my jammies and the first thing my eyes gravitate towards is an old oversized Alf hoodie that’s folded up on the top shelf. It was my go to security blanket slash sweater. It was thick, heavy duty and three sizes too big; perfect for moping around on cold, gloomy days or moping around on warm, sunny days that still felt cold and gloomy.

I pull it off the shelf and drape it over me and the feeling of nostalgia steals me. It feels like home. It feels welcome.

When I open the door for her I jut my hands into the front pocket of the hoodie. I probably look pitiful.

“You look pitiful,” she says. Only seconds later to be followed by laughter. I can’t help but laugh either. She always has a knack for saying the most insulting things to have me doubling over in laughter. It’s an uncanny thing.

“I know. And that’s just on the exterior. On the inside I’m microwaved death.”

“Ugh. The only thing good microwaved is…nothing is good microwaved.
I grimace. “I’m sorry Just’. You know I am. I really dissed you and I really messed up—”

“Bitch, shut up and pour me a cup of coffee and all is forgiven.”

I smile sheepishly, knowing my friend is back. “Two creams and two sugars right?”

“You know it.”

“So I take it you’re not going to school?”

“I take it you’ve heard.”

“I did. What a jerkface. I thought he was one of the good ones.”

“Me too. He’s worse if you ask me. At least with the others, you know within five seconds of them speaking that they’re sleazeballs.”

“Total jackhole. I expected more honestly. With Lucas, okay I understand. I was a nobody to him, but with Kellen. We were friends. That’s gotta count for something right?”

“I guess being friends doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things for some people.” She picks up a fake tulip out of the vase on the table and smells it. “So what’s next?”

“I don’t know.” I purse my lips and scoop coffee grounds into the filter. “I feel like Tupac right after he got out of jail. He went after everyone he had beef with. Straight World War Three. It’s just me against the world right now.”

“You should totally go Tupac.” I go to the fridge and pour a tiny glass of orange juice.

“Yup. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m gonna shave my head and get my nose pierced and then I’m gonna get Thug Life tattooed across my stomach.”

“That’s so awesome.” She pauses. “That would look terrible when you decide to get pregnant though. When your belly gets big, it’ll probably read Hug Knife.”

I laugh so hard I spit my juice on the fake flowers in the middle of the table.

“Oh my God I hate you.”

“You love me. That’s why you let me inside.”

“I let you in because any more rocks and my Mom would have you paying for a new window. Or raking leaves until snow started falling.” I sigh. “Or I let you in because I miss you and I’m so sorry for treating you the way I did.”

“Okay! Enough!” she yelps. “Homecoming is tomorrow,” she says sheepishly.

“I bought this cute dress for the dance and I can’t even wear it. I was really looking forward to going. It was going to be my first dance. I made an entire day out of it to get ready. I had a mani-pedi scheduled first thing in the morning. And then I had a hair appointment. And now I’ll be staying home stuffing my face with ice cream, listening to Billie Holiday crying my eyes out watching Spaceballs for the twenty thousandth time.”  I slam down the top of the coffee maker. “That dress was a lot of money too.”

“Well take the dress back. You’re not going to a yacht party any time soon.”

I plant my hands on my waist. “The place I bought it from has a no refund policy.”

“When did Wal-Mart start becoming so bourgeois? I took back a car stereo that I had for a year and I got a full refund. No receipt; wires were hanging out and everything.”

“I didn’t go to Wal-Mart. I went to Ambiance.”

Her eyes look like they’re about to gouge out. “Ambiance? In the mall? Wow you really are serious about this dance. I’m not even going to ask how much you spent. I don’t want to throw up.”

“That Chewbacca costume that I bought awhile back…the dress was more.” Justine displays a look that looks at me like I should be admitted to the looney bin. “Yeah, tell me about it. Now I have no date and an empty bank account.” I furrow my brow and wonder to myself. “You know what? I feel like everything happens for a reason. Maybe I’m supposed to have some type of lesson learned from this? I can go to Costco and buy a bunch of caramel corn and eat myself into an early grave and be depressed forever because of this or I can grab the bull by the horns and tell it straight to go to hell.”

I fill her cup with coffee and do the same for mine.

“That’s the spirit, sister.”

I pump my fist in the air. “I feel so empowered right now.”

“Somebody grab a Beyoncé cd and a book of matches. I’m going to burn my bra.”

I hand the cup of coffee to her and I sip mine.

She takes a sip and her face perks up brightly, but it doesn’t seem like it’s because of the java.

“I have an idea.”

“Oh no! The last time I went along with one of your schemes, I was tied up behind the band room duct taped and smothered in jelly.”

She laughs. “I’m sorry about that by the way. But this is different.” She scoots her chair closer to mine. “What if you and I went to the dance together?”

I smirk lightly, giving it a thought. “That’s not a bad idea. It’s totally socially acceptable for besties to go to the dance together.” I puff my cheeks out. “I know this is a bad example, but Ashley, Dascha and Penelope went together last year.”

“That’s a piss poor example,” she says, shaking her head. “But I get what you mean.”

I scrunch my face up, smiling. “I’m kind of getting the goosebumps thinking about this now. I’m excited.”

“I haven’t even said the kicker yet.” I lean in closer to her jade green eyes widening. “Instead of your dress, you wear your Chewbacca outfit.” She pauses when she sees the fright in my face. “Go full Tupac on them.”

I imagine the look on people’s faces at the dance when they see me step in in full wooly, brown Wookie glory. The look of fright I had when Justine presented her idea to me has dissipated and has been replaced with a feeling of giddiness. “You are on fire this morning. People will lose their minds once they see us. What are you going to wear?”
“I don’t know. I’m not big on fur getups. I sweat and I don’t want to hyperventilate and have the pavilion at U of M be the place where I keel over. I’ll think of something.”

She finishes the rest of her coffee in one big gulp and gets out of her chair. “I’m off to school. I’m late. You coming?”

I shake my head, holding my mug up close to my mouth. “No, I’m gonna fall back. I have a few things to handle today.”

“Ok. I’ll come by afterwards and we’ll plan this baby out! Later.” She kisses my forehead.

I sit in the kitchen alone, but not alone in the sense of how I felt before Justine came over. I finish the rest of my coffee quietly, entertaining random thoughts passing through my head.

My phone rings, but I don’t bother to answer the call from Dr. Gold’s office. Today would be a good day to go and talk to him; I’m not going to school and I definitely need to get things off my chest. But lying on some couch in some stuffy room with plaques on the wall from some esteemed Ivy League school and a pair of golf clubs in the corner isn’t my ideal forum to talk about my feelings. If I was going to vent, I had to do it my way. There was only one place I should do it. And it’s one place that I haven’t been too since earlier year.

Chapter 27

I pull my car into the parking lot of Sunset Hills Cemetery on Flushing Rd. It’s a little bit after noon and while the first thing I did after leaving the house today was hit the thrift shop and go through records to take my mind of last night’s happenings, the thought of coming here continued to gnaw at me.

The entire time I rummaged through dusty records, I told myself over and over that I needed to come. I bounced between feeling like it was a stupid idea to feeling like it was something I needed to do.

And now that I’m here, I’ve been sitting in the parking lot, staring at a groundskeeper making his rounds. I’ve been here about twenty minutes, my hand on the door handle, but my body still plastered in my seat. Opening a car door is one of simplest things that someone can do, but right now, pulling the handle and pushing it open is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I take a few shallow breaths and finally get the muscles in my left arm to open the door.

Somehow that leads to my feet shuffling one after the other, up the winding blacktop pathway to my father and my sister’s gravesite. The leaves of the trees above, red and nut brown crackle against the branches. The sky is blue, not a white fluff in the sky, rare for this time of October.

I see the two plots of gray cement to my right. I’ve only been to this cemetery once and I remember exactly where their graves are. It’s not something I’ll forget. As difficult as it was to be present for the funeral, I remember every detail about it. My Mom almost passed out from crying hysterically. I recall the loud click of the lock on the caskets that banged through my ears. I can see Bruce Davis, my Dad’s best friend give his eulogy and make every dry eye in the room turn wet. Kellen was there too. He gave me a long hug, but only a few words were exchanged between us: “I’m sorry for your loss,” and “You holding up okay?” I just nodded my head.

I sat through it all—numb. It was a struggle even to be present there. I told everyone I wasn’t going, but decided at the last minute to go and that I probably would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t show.

This is the one place that when I drive past I don’t even turn my head to look at. I pretend it’s not there. Sometimes I drive down another road to avoid going past it altogether.

But coming today felt like something I had to do.

I stand there, looking down at them, breathing slowly, not knowing what to say or if I should stay silent; should I sit or stand.

I sit down on the patch of grass in front and look at the gray blocks of cement and their names and birthdates etched in it.

I remember my Dad joking on New Year’s Eve a couple of years ago that he didn’t want to be buried; instead he wanted his body to be stuffed and put in the living room in his favorite chair.

I chuckle with glassy eyes. My Dad was always the jokester. He didn’t want his funeral to be overcast and gloomy with people choking back tears, he wanted it to be a celebration, festive. But I guess his intention was for that to happen if he died in his eighties or nineties and not in his early forties; killed with his teenage daughter by a drunken driver while they were on their way to pick up pizza for dinner. The pizza that I begged for. The guilt of being responsible for them dying seizes my lungs.

I run my hands through the grass. “Maybe I should have brought flowers, but I spent all my money on some stupid dress.”

That dress. I sigh.

My Dad would’ve been brought to tears if he saw me in my dress. He’d always compliment me in whatever superhero costume I wore anyways, but a dress…it would have made him tremendously proud. He would’ve been proud of me whether I was going to the dance or not. I see him smiling, arms folded and tugging at his beard, marveling at how much his daughter had grown.

I always liked to pull on his thick beard, walnut brown with gray strands intertwined throughout. He had the lumberjack, hipster beard before it was cool. He had a hearty laugh that would make the lampshades shake when he chuckled. And his eyes. Brown. A deep, rich, shade of honey brown. His eyes reminded me of autumn.

Mom loved staring into his eyes. And I could tell after all the years they had been married, that he was still very much in love with her. She would be saying something to him and I’d catch him looking, glaring at her with a deep burning. Like he still had a sweltering desire for her and wanted to rip her clothes off once Pep and I went to bed. I always thought it was disgusting, but I understand now how it feels to be so much in love with someone that it hurts.

I can see Pepper teasing me as soon as I stepped foot into the living room to show off my dress. She would have ragged on me, saying I would have broken an ankle tripping over the gown. I can hear her tender, pipsqueak sounding voice. And her laugh, high pitched to straight snorting when something was really funny. Closing my eyes, I see her smile, wide and bright, the kind you see at the dentist office as an example of what two cleanings a year can do for you. I see her dark, charcoal hair dancing against her shoulders. I see her brown eyes, doughy and inquisitive, resting on top of her freckle-dotted button of a nose.

“Pep, I got plenty of practice from my Cinderella costume wearing heels. No way you’d tease me now. I walk down the hall like it’s a runway.”

She should see me now, me wearing heels now more than the Vans I used to wear. She’d give me hell saying how I was hanging out with losers like Ashley and Dascha.

“I never thought I’d come here,” I say murmuring, looking down onto the grass between my legs. I avoid looking at their graves as if their eyes were on me right now.

“I hope you’re not mad at me.” I turn around to see if anyone is around me, seeing me carrying a conversation with two blocks of stone.

“I swear in the movies they make this look so normal.” I smile, but it quickly fades away.

“I’m pretty sure the both of you are wondering why it’s taken me this long to come here.” My voice cracks and squeaks with every other word I speak, but I find the strength to power through it. “Is it a good excuse that I got busy with school and stuff?” I hear the rustle of cracked leaves rolling against the grass. “I know it’s not. School always came easy to me.” I fiddle with the laces on my sneakers. “There
has
been a lot going though. I was in my first relationship.” I nod my head, as a salty tear frees itself from my eye.

“He broke up with me, but that’s beside the point. I met a bunch of friends and became pretty popular.” My voice trails off, embarrassed. “It came at a price though. No one asked me to, but I got rid the Ninja Turtles hoodies for blouses.” I sniffle. “Pep, stop laughing. I know it sounds ridiculous. Your big sister…in a pink cami, showing off her arms and not in an oversized Harry Potter t-shirt.” I chuckle, but it’s not a real laugh. Another tear falls. “But I pulled it off. Don’t tell anybody, but some of these clothes actually feel good on me. Maybe not as good as a hoodie and army fatigue cargo pants, but pretty good.” I suck in a deep breath. “But I wasn’t invisible anymore. People talked about me. They still do. I’m somebody now.” My head juts over to my father. “I know Daddy, I was
always
somebody. But this is different. People know me now. They look up to me now. They talk about me in a
good
way. And they don’t point at me, whispering to their friend about how weird I am and how they fear I might show up to school dressed in a black trench coat with an AR-15 and a bunch of ammo.” I bite my lip. “I know Pep, I would never do that. I’m scared to death of water guns, let alone real guns. And killing people? Really? Who does that?” I swing the strands of hair behind my head becoming more comfortable sitting here as time passes.

“Me and Kellen are friends again. I mean
were
friends.”

I clear my throat and move on.

“Mom tries to act like everything is peachy. But she’s not. She’s a wreck and buries herself in her work. She’s drinking now—not a lot—but a glass of wine or Jack Daniels a couple of times through the week. Before, she’d always just swallow the last corner of the bottle after you finished off the Cabernet you were drinking. She’d be in the kitchen putting away dishes and take the bottle and put it to her lips and swallow the last few thimbles worth of wine. I bet that got her drunk too. I bet you didn’t know she did that. She’d always say don’t tell your father. It would be our little secret.”

“And no she hasn’t dated anybody,” I say chuckling, tears flooding from my eyes. “You know she’ll always love you and would never consider dating again. I don’t think she would know how to do that anyways.” I snicker. “I know right. Can you see Mom on Tinder?” I bury my face in my palm. “I don’t think I’ll be dating anybody any time soon either. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be. Kellen and I agreed to be in a fake relationship to get us out of the social wasteland landfill we were both in.” I purse my lips envisioning Pepper’s eyes going dim and shaking her head in pity for me. “I know it’s stupid Pep and I know if you were here you’d shame me into not doing it. But it’s Kellen and you remember how hard I used to crush on him.” I wrinkle my nose. “Daddy, you should see Kellen now. He’s not the kid that would get nosebleeds if you looked at him with scorn. He’s an All American running back at Northern.” I look up to the sky and giggle. “I know…can you see the pigs flying? Their wings are huge.”

My smile withers away from the feeling of somberness that congregates inside of me.

I don’t speak for a long while.

“To say I wish the two of you were here right now is an understatement. Life would be so much easier. I didn’t feel invisible until you left. I don’t blame you for this. It just is what it is. Like…the people that made me feel whole are gone and without them, I’m not complete. Just empty. I thought making new friends or shedding everything that reminded myself of the both of you two would make it all better. I was just filling a bucket with tears with a hole at the bottom of it. I actually thought that getting rid of everything that made me unique would help me forget losing the both of you. I stopped with dying my hair, the comic books, the Anime. Everything that made me…
me
. Come to find out I just lost who I was in the process.”

“Daddy, you always said to never conform for anybody. Well I listened to you for sixteen years. And when you left, it all went out the window.” The tears that fall from my eyes moisten the patch grass between my legs like morning dew.

It hurts to speak; words and breaths lodge in my throat. I picture my Dad sitting in his favorite chair, legs crossed, his eyebrows furrowed in disdain. And that was the absolute worst feeling in the world—when I let him down in some way. But he’d never judge me or belittle me. He’d give me a stern lecture, but I’d never feel like a piece of shit afterwards. He’d make sure I learned the lesson about my mistake.

“I really messed up this time, Daddy. I let people dictate who I was, the person who you taught me to be proud of. That unique person you told me to embrace regardless of what people thought of me or whatever rude stuff they said about me. You loved me regardless if I didn’t have long flowing hair down my back or if I wasn’t head cheerleader or Homecoming queen. You loved me for me…and I know you still do.” I bury my face in my palm, tears flowing from me that I didn’t know I had left.

For the first time in months, I sit there before my father and sister’s headstones and bare myself emotionally, not caring what any soul thinks of me. It’s freeing. I don’t care if a million judging eyeballs were on me right now. All that matters is what my Dad and Pep would think of me.

They would both tell me to go to the dance. To smile through all of it, to keep my head high and flip my nose at anyone who had something ignorant to say.

And if any of those bitches got out of line, don’t hesitate to ball your fist up and give them a knuckle sandwich if need be. Pep was always the more aggressive one out of us two.

And what it took was to face what I couldn’t accept. I never accepted them passing. I always blamed what happened on me. If I weren’t begging like a whiny brat for pizza that night, they wouldn’t have gotten into that accident. And they’d be here to comfort me, to console me. Instead of under the ground where I can’t touch them, hug them, see them smile at me, or crack a joke when I said something stupid.

But deep down, I know it’s not my fault. Life doesn’t work that way.

“I just miss you both so much.” My cries become groaning, longing for me to blink my eyes and I’d instantly wake up, out of breath and it would put an end to this nightmare.

The sun drenches the two headstones, steeping it in a dense glow. It’s beautiful. I can’t deny the splendor in it.

Maybe it’s a sign from both of them; making their presence known to me.

I stand up, brush the grass off my jeans and move closer towards the headstones.

I place my fingers, from both hands, on my lips and I plant them on the top of the graves. I close my eyes and whisper I love you to both of them.

I turn around go back to my car, the sun saturating my wet face. I get in and sit down and it feels like bag of bricks has been hoisted from off of my shoulders.

I pull out my phone and I have a text from Julie at the hospital asking me if I’d like to come in for a session tonight; Amber, one of the trainers had to call off sick and she needs someone to fill in for her. I start my car and head south on Flushing Rd. to McLaren Hospital.