Clouds That Were (Weathered Hearts) (13 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Tenley

M
y mom is
spending the night at Rick’s, so the house is quiet. Now that she has the baby to distract her, she doesn’t really care what I do. It’s nice actually, almost like having a normal life, except that I never know when she is going to change back to being a control freak again. So even though they are gone for the night, I do nothing differently; I just sit in my window and try to figure out the rest of my plan.

After a little bit of time, I realize that getting in trouble doesn’t scare me in the least anymore, and I decide that I would think better if I had something to drink. I walk downstairs and open the fridge to grab a soda. A little voice in my head reminds me that my mom always keeps a bottle of tequila in the freezer. What the hell, right? I’ve never done it before, might as well do it at least once before I die. I take the almost-f bottle and go back upstairs.

I’m still a little nervous about drinking, or doing anything at all against my mother, really. I have lived in fear of her for so long that it’s hard to get that out of my head. I unscrew the cap on the bottle and put it up to my nose to smell it. It smells awful. This might be a bad idea, but other people drink this stuff all the time, so it can’t be that bad, right? I hold my breath and take a swig from the bottle. Turns out holding your breath doesn’t really make any difference. It still tastes like I would imagine death smells like in a bottle. How do people drink this crap? I put the cap back on the bottle and walk down the stairs to put it back. I notice as I am walking, though, a nice warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. This must be why. It’s liquid comfort. I remember my mother drinking it and then sucking on a lime and salt or sugar or something. So I head for the fridge to see if we have one, at the same time realize that I am home all alone, so I really can do whatever I want.

I turn and half-jog into the living room and flip on the stereo. One of the only good things about my mother is that she has great taste in music, and she keeps her iPod plugged in all the time. I put the songs on random and crank the stereo up. The entire house is filled with music as I half-dance back into the kitchen.

I find a lime and grab the cutting board and a knife from the drawer. I’m not entirely sure how to cut this, but I give it a shot. I reach up to the cabinet and take out a shot glass and fill it up with Tequila. In another cabinet I find the salt shaker. I think I remember her licking her hand and then dumping the salt on it, so that’s what I do. Now let’s try this again. I take the shot glass and put it up to my mouth. The smell almost gets me again, but I tip my head back and down the shot. I lick the salt from my hand and place the lime in my mouth. Much better. This, I can do. A few more shots, and I am dancing around in the kitchen like a fool singing along with the music at the top of my lungs. For a brief moment I remember watching a movie with a mom and a daughter who danced around the kitchen while making dinner or something. Again, I am reminded of how much my life sucks. That thought is all that it takes, and I am sitting in the middle of the floor in the kitchen, crying. By this point I skip the glass, the lime and the salt and go straight for the bottle. Some overly upbeat song comes on that I have never heard before, causing me to get up and turn it off still holding the bottle in one hand. Once the incessant happiness of the music is gone, I decide to go back upstairs.

My feelings and thoughts seem fuzzy, but clear at the same time, and I think now is as good a time as any to write my suicide letters. Once in my room with the door closed, I pull out a notebook and a pen and begin writing. The letter to my mother is the most important, so I write that one first.

Dear Jessica,

If you are reading this, congratulations. You no longer have to deal with the child you never wanted. I am dead because of you. I killed myself to make you happy. That is all I ever wanted, to make you happy.

Love,
Tenley

Well, that was easier than I thought. I guess I don’t really have anything else to say to her. I take another drink and flip the page.

My phone dings with a text from Chase, but I try to end the conversation as fast as I can without being rude to him and slide my phone back into its hiding place so that I can get back to my letters. I really don’t want him to come over and see me drunk. Closing the curtains and flipping off the light, I sit on the bed and drink a little bit more while I peek through a crack in the curtains waiting for his light to go off. Once it’s off, I flip my light back on and get busy writing my letter to him. This one is going to be much harder to write.

Dear Chase,

If I have caused you any pain. I am sorry. I never wanted that. In fact, I am doing this partially for you. I want you to be happy, and I don’t want you to be stuck taking care of me. You deserve happiness and have a family and a life that you love. You can’t have that with me. I am messed up, always have been, always will be.

I take another drink and continue writing.

You have made me happy. The kisses, the time spent with you, the rides to school. Everything about you brings me joy. You should be with someone who does that for you, too. I want you to be happy, and I am sorry that I met you, just to leave like this. I know it sucks that your mom did this, and now I’ve done, but it’s for the best. Quite simply, I know I don’t want to burden you with my sadness anymore, and I’m sure your mom felt the same way. I love you so much. I never thought I would get to love anyone, but I love you. I really love you. Thank you for making these last few days the best, most joyful days, I have ever had. I wish we had more time together, but I have to do this. My whole life has been spent trying to make my mother happy, and I have always known that my existence prevents her from being able to be so. With my brother or sister on the way, I don’t want them to be affected by me being there, ruining his or her life the way I have ruined hers. This is what I have to do. I love you, and thank you again for the last few days. I will tell your mom “hello.”

Love,
Tenley

For a second I think that writing these while I am drinking is probably not the best idea I have ever had, but I will reread them tomorrow. Or I could drink again tomorrow, this is kind of fun. Then again the two most important letters are done. I could just get it over with now before I lose my nerve. I stumble into my mom’s bathroom and grab every pill bottle I can find, dropping half of them on the ground. I lean over to pick them up and hit my head on the bathtub. For some reason this strikes me as very funny, and I lie down on the floor in the bathroom, giggling uncontrollably. When I calm down, I dump the garbage in the garbage can into the bathtub and throw all of the pill bottles in the trash can so that I can get them all to my room without dropping them again.

I dump all of the bottles onto my bed and begin opening them and putting them all in a big pile. My tequila bottle is almost empty, so I stagger back down the stairs to get another bottle and then head back up.

I set the full bottle on my nightstand and head over to my bed which is now littered with pills of all different colors and sizes. I have no idea what any of them are supposed to do, so it doesn’t matter which ones I take first. I take one last look across the street and wish again that circumstances were different for me and Chase, but I wash down the thought with some pills and tequila.

My thoughts turning fuzzy, I grab another handful of pills and down them with some more tequila. For a brief moment I second-guess what I am doing, and I wonder if Chase will ever be able to forgive me or if he will even care. If I have one regret about not being here tomorrow, it’s him. But I know a relationship could never work out between us. I take another handful of pills and another drink. I move from sitting on my bed down to the floor and lean my head back on the bed to try to clear my head a little. Maybe a relationships could work out between Chase and me. Maybe he really does love me enough. I am starting to get very tired, so I grab some more pills from the bed. However, I am just too tired. I need to just close my eyes for a minute, and then I will take the rest. My last thought before drifting off to sleep is that I hope my mother doesn’t find me before I finish taking the rest of the pills. It would really piss her off to know she was that close to finally getting rid of me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Chase

I
n a matter
of seconds, I am running across the street with my dad trailing behind me. I pound on the front door. No one answers, something that doesn’t surprise me, since her mom isn’t currently there. I take a few steps back and run forward and kick the door open. I still hear nothing, but that hardly even registers as I am running up the stairs to her bedroom. I find her with pills strewn all over her bed, and she is lying on the floor, with pills in one hand and an empty bottle of tequila in her other hand.

The next few minutes are a blur. I drop down on my knees by her side and try to get her to wake up, but nothing works.

“Tenley, wake up. Baby, come on. I need you to open your eyes.” I scream, shaking her, trying anything to get her to open her eyes. Tears start falling freely from my eyes as I pick up her head and hold her in my arms “Tenley, please, I need you to wake up. You can’t do this to me. Please Tenley, please open your eyes. Open your eyes so I can show you how much I love you. I’m so sorry; I’m so sorry; please let me love you.” I barely register my dad talking to someone, but I am not paying any attention. I am screaming and crying and praying that she just wakes up. She doesn’t open her eyes; she doesn’t do anything. I don’t even know if she is breathing.

It can’t end like this. I have a plan. I am going to save her. She can’t die, not like this, not now. I grab her wrist. I think I can still feel a pulse, but I’m not sure. All I know is that I have to do whatever I can to save her, so I begin CPR. A few minutes later, I hear sirens, and they rush in and immediately get to work on her. They shove me out of the way, and I stand there in the corner, just watching for any sign from her that she is alive. But I see nothing. They get a breathing tube in and get her on a gurney, and within just a few moments, they have her down the stairs and in the ambulance. A few seconds later, one of them runs back in with a plastic bag, throws what is left of the pills into it, and is back out of the door. I can hear the sirens wailing, getting further and further away as I slide down the wall and lose it.

I couldn’t keep my mom alive, and I couldn’t keep her alive either.

I sit there on the floor in her room, with my dad sitting beside me for a long time, sobbing and praying.

I can’t breathe.

She has to be alive. I didn’t even get the chance to take her away and make her happy. Or to tell her how happy she makes me.

I hate her mother for making her do this. I hate that she has done this to her daughter and that she isn’t even here to deal with what she has done.

Still sobbing, I turn to my dad: “I need to go to the hospital. I need to see her; I need to know if she is okay.”

“Let’s just go home and get you calmed down a little bit before we jump in the car and rush over there. They probably aren’t going to know anything yet anyway. Okay?”

“No!” I yell at him “I need to be there for her! No one has ever been there for her, and that’s why she did this! Damn it Dad, her mother may have killed her, maybe not with her own hands, but she made her do this! She has never been there for her daughter, and I will be damned if Tenley questions for even one second my love for her. If she wakes up, no WHEN she wakes up, I want to be the first person she sees. If I am the only person who loves her, that’s fine with me. I love her enough for the whole world. I didn’t do a good enough job showing her that, but I will spend the rest of my days making sure she knows.”

“Just calm down. Breathe, bud.” He looks at me with concern. “I know exactly how you feel right now. I really do. This is how I feel about your mom still. I hope this turns out differently than it did with her, and that you will get the chance to talk to Tenley again, but you are not going to be any good to her if you don’t take care of yourself. Right now that means you need to take just a minute and calm down. We will go home, get some clothes on, maybe take a shower, and just clear your head a little, and then we will go straight over. I promise.”

The feeling of hopelessness completely taking over, I whisper, “Okay, I just need to know she is alright. She has to be alright.”

“I know, Chase. I know. Come on, let’s get you home.”