I cried until I was too drained to do it anymore. Melanie was basically done cleaning up the worst of the mess by then, and so she again asked me if I would please take something so I could get some rest. I didn’t want to. I hate those stupid pills because they force me to go to sleep. But what else could I do? She had stood by, looked at my nasty body, let me cry…and she hadn’t treated me like an invalid. The least I could have done, I figured, was not be a total fucking asshole for once and listen to her. It’s probably better that I did. I slept good, real good. Better than I have in awhile. It’s probably because I was so drained , but it doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m okay right now, and I’ll make it through another day. It scares the hell out of me too…because if Melanie hadn’t been around yesterday I don’t know what I might have done to myself.
I could have ended it all.
I’m pretty pissed that my mom went behind my back and hired a nurse to live here. I mean, of course I can understand why she wouldn’t have told me the truth, she didn’t want me to be angry. Still, it makes me feel that my own mother can’t trust me enough to let me know what’s going on in my own life. Suddenly I feel more helpless than I’ve felt in a long time. I don’t even know if I want to talk to my mom for awhile, but that won’t be easy. She’ll want to know why I’m upset when I tell her I don’t want to talk, and I certainly can’t tell her about what happened. That would mean a one way ticket back to Tennessee, and I’m not ready to face those demons yet. It’s back to being fake again. It’s horrible. I promised myself I was going to try and be real…not cover up my feelings. Well, that was awhile ago. Back before I hurt Kerri. Back when Trace was still sort of my friend. I fucked that all up. The way I keep people like my mother close, is faking smiles, promising shit to her that I know I’ll never go through with, and covering up the truth. It’s a bad existence. I probably should have slit my wrists when I had the chance to, but I guess I’m still a fucking pussy. I’m just afraid to die.
I’ve been thinking a lot today. I don’t know how long it’s been since I woke up. I guess I must have broken my alarm clock yesterday along with the rest of the stuff. It’s kind of driving me crazy not knowing what time it is. It’s reminding me of a cold dark place that I never ever want to remember, but I keep telling myself it’s my own fault the damn alarm clock is broken and so I have to pay the consequences. I could go downstairs and start living in real time again, instead of in this dark endless shit. Hell, I could even open the shades so I’d be reminded that there is actually a thing called the sun out there. But I won’t do either of those things. I don’t think I’m ready to face Melanie yet, after what happened last night…not yet. I don’t think I could look her in the eye. She saw me…she knows what I did to myself. And…and she was looking at me last night too. She was looking at me like she knew, like I was a book that was spread wide open for her to read. It freaked me the fuck out, and I think I’d be happy if I never had to leave my room and face her ever again.
But my momma would ask too many questions.
I look down at the journal resting on my lap, amazed at how much I’ve written today. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt up to writing my thoughts down, but today seemed like a good day. I wrote ten, maybe fifteen pages worth of my stupid thoughts. I wrote about Shane. Sometimes I think about him a lot. I don’t really know why. It’s almost like I don’t mind thinking about him. Like he’s some friend I lost in the war. I’m sick. I’m just a sick fucking bastard and there’s no cure for me except this stupid journal. Maybe I should give in. Maybe I should start going to see Madison more than once a month. Maybe I should just tell her to pump me full of medication and put me back in Orange Valley, because there’s no more hope for me. I’ll just tell her that I’m either going to end up killing myself or somebody else before this whole thing is said and done.
I wrote a few pages about Kerri. It’s the first time I wrote about her in a long, long time. Something inside of me lit up a tiny bit when I started to remember the good times. Although, the feeling went away quickly when I saw that blood start to run down the walls again. That happens a lot. I’ll just be sitting here, the only light being provided by the glow of the television screen. It’ll start slow. Blood will start to drip down the tv screen and onto the floor. Then the walls start in…the blood trailing from the ceiling down to the floor and spreading all over the carpet. I’ll taste it in my mouth, and then it’s covering me. I usualy have to run into the bathroom after that…take a cold shower to calm myself down. I havent told anybody about those incidents. They’ve been happening since I beat Kerri up. I know I deserve it but…I’m just so fucking scared. I’m so alone, and I don’t know what to do when shit like that happens. I just freak out, hyperventilate, and take something to knock me the fuck out.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I’m going insane.
My stomach growls and I rub it a little bit. I’ve been hoping to hear the familiar clunk of a food tray being left by my door all day, but it hasn’t come yet. I guess she’s waiting for me to come down before she does anything like that. I’m sure she thinks that I need my space, and I just…it’s so weird to me. I never thought this girl would be the type to back off when I completely lose my mentality. Kerri never did. She always crowded me, tried to force my feelings out of me. I hated that about her. It was probably the only thing I hated. She was supposed to get it. She was there. But of course, she just had to prove how much stronger and better she was at handling things than I was.
Anyway, I was fucking scared as shit that Melanie was going to call my mom last night. Hell, I don’t even know that she didn’t, because I’ve been up here all day. But…something inside is telling me that she’s not the type to go back on her word. I don’t know what it is that’s making me buy into her like this…it’s just something about her. She presents herself very well. She doesn’t take my shit, and when I piss her off she’s not afraid to express her feelings. She’s the first one that’s stood up to me…yelled at me. She doesn’t give a shit that I was put through a nightmare. Normally I would hate that, and I guess for these first couple of weeks I have hated it. But now more than ever, I’m so thankful. I’m actually thankful that she’s putting me in my place.
It’s forcing me to see what I’m doing to myself.
I’m sick. At least I think I am. I took a real long look at myself when I woke up earlier. I really look horrible, like I’m dying. It wasn’t this bad before my mom left, but I guess I’ve gotten so damn depressed since then that my condition has worsened. It doesn’t help that I’ve been dropping my stimulants down the toilet ever other day. I know that’s bad. My medication does help keep my moods in check but I mean damn…they make me feel so shitty at the same time. Some days I’d go get the food that Melanie prepared for me, and I had the worst time stomaching it. Some of the seasonings and shit she used on the meat made me so sick. I knew it was from the meds, because Melanie…she cooks a lot of the same stuff my mom usually does when I’m home. I just…I can’t fucking stand it. I refuse to be controlled like that. I was forced into things in the past…and it’s time for all of that to end.
Of course this isn’t the right way to go about it. I really should be talking to Madison about changing my medications or something, but I have a lot of trouble talking to her now when we have our monthly sessions. I think it’s because I keep a lot from her now, and I never used to do that in the past. I can’t be honest, I have to be fake like I am with everybody else. I know she senses that too, and it’s probably why she’s as distant as she is with me. She knows she cant’ make up my mind for me, and she’s certainly not the type to force me to talk. She’s giving me my space, waiting for me to make the decision to be honest with her again. It’s what she’s always done, and I feel pretty shitty being angry at her all this time. Fuck, she’s just been doing her job. My main problem is, I haven’t told her about what I did to Kerri that night. I haven’t told her because I’m just so fucking scared of what might happen if I do. I keep thinking she’ll call the police and I’ll be arrested. Then they’ll lock me up with some sick fuck who’ll be able to tell what I am right from the get go. He’ll be just like Doug and Shane. I’ll leave the place in a body bag because I wont be able to stand it happening to me again. So I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t take that chance. I just can’t. So I guess things are just going to stay this way. This is just going to be my life…like it or not…
Eventually I’m going to dissappear, and nobody is going to miss me.
I’m a fucking idiot. I broke my entire entertainment center, so now instead of having some leisure entertainment while I confine myself to my bedroom, I have absolutely nothing to do except sit here and feel sorry for myself. It’s what I’ve been doing all day, and I have a massive fucking headache. I should get out of here for a little while, just get some air or something. I don’t really want to. Having to face Melanie isn’t something I have the mentality to deal with right now, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t very well stay up here for the rest of my life. I’m being fucking ridiculous. I did a lot of worse shit around Trace and Kerri and I still faced them. Melanie isn’t that much different. I just…
I have to be a fucking man.
I open my bedroom door, and poke my head out. Immediately, the smell of homemade tomato sauce fills my nostrils. I feel myself go weak at the knees…my mouth starts to water. I really had no idea I was this hungry. I guess I haven’t been eating as well as I should. Melanies food is really fucking good, but when I can’t stomach things, I don’t eat. And of course, I would have never asked her to make something different. I was too zoned out to talk to her. Hell, I’d probably be acting the same way now if it hadn’t been for last night. But things are different now…and I didn’t take my anxiety pills today so I can eat whatever the hell I want.
I reach the bottom of the stairs, and find myself creeping around the house. It’s weird because this is my house and there’s no reason why I should be so uneasy. I guess I just don’t want to run into the girl unexpectedly. I need to gather my thoughts and figure out what I’m gonna say and how I’m gonna act. I don’t want to lose my cool. I don’t need to give her a reason to be angry with me today. I reach the entrance way to the kitchen, and I press my body against the wall, carefully peering my head around the corner to see what’s going on. The coast seems clear…there’s no noise, but then I see an arm flail itself in the air. I gasp and duck back behind the corner, immediately feeling like a dope. I mean fuck, what the hell am I doing? Lighten the fuck up man. I sigh, and nod. Right. It’s my house…my kitchen, and I’m…I’m just going to get a little of whatever what’s her face is making. Bolder this time, I take a giant step into the kitchen, expecting to see her standing there cooking or something…
But she’s not cooking….
“What a feelin!”
She’s dancing?
“Needs believing! I can‘t have it all, now I‘m dancing for my life!”
And singing?
I’m taken back to a time I can barely even remember. Those mornings I’d wake up and Cameron would be trying to cook us breakfast. She never had a knack for making breakfast that well, but I always gave her props for trying. The thing with her was, she loved to blast music early in the morning. I didn’t mind it then. I thought it was cute, and it kind of got me jumpstarted when I needed it most. I’d go in and she’d be using a spoon as the mic. She’d dance around…shake her ass in my face. I’d laugh, and let her spin herself right into my arms. Then we’d kiss…sometimes for too long and the breakfast would burn. We didn’t really care though. We were happy. I…I was happy. I guess I should look back on all that with great fondess or some stupid bullshit like that.
But I shouldn’t be thinking about Cameron at a time like this. Things are bad enough without bringing that part of the drama back into my life. Instead I’ll focus on the weirdo who’s cooking dinner and shaking her head from side to side, singing at the top of her lungs. A slight laugh escapes me. Shocking, but I can’t help myself right now. She’s just being so…silly, I guess that’s the word. Her headphones are in, she’s dancing and singing like an idiot, and at the same time she’s absolutely sure I’m not standing here watching her do it. It’s amusing, and I know the old me would find it fucking hilarious. That Justin would sneak up on her right now, grab her around the waist and scare the hell out of her. But I’m much too timid for that. I know I can’t touch her. So I’ll just watch her like some fucking stalker until…
“Jesus!”
She rips the headphones out of her ears and pulls the ipod out of her pocket. I can hear the familiar tones of Flash Dance blaring out of the tiny ear buds, but she quickly puts a stop to the music and places the device on the countertop.
“I um…” I don’t quite meet her gaze once she calms down a little and looks at me for some kind of response as to how annoying I think she is. I hate that she’s so intimidated by me. I mean, she tries to act like she’s not, and hell I’ll admit…she’s good at acting like that sometimes. But I know deep down I scare the shit out of her. Hell, I scare the shit out of everybody. I really need to stop…to lighten up or something. She’s not half bad I’m sure. I guess she has her flaws. She likes to butt in, but then again I guess it’s her job. But I’m an asshole, and I really have no right to point out any of her flaws until I can get myself together. “I thought maybe I’d come…”
“You thought maybe you’d scare the hell out of me!”
She’s embarrassed that I caught her. Any other time I’d find it cute…find her…cute. But god, no…no no no. “I didn’t realize it was your happy hour, Melanie. Next time I‘ll call. Would that work better?”
Her jaw drops open.
I’m surprised that I’m able to be so easy going with her right now. Just a few seconds ago I was acting like a scared little boy, and now I’m back to being a dick again. I don’t know how I do it. I’m definently bi polar, or just insane. Insane, yeah…that’s definitely it.
“Great to see you too,” she mutters and turns back to the stove. “Break anything else today?”
I’m quiet. That just brought my mood to a crashing hault. I suddenly remember just why it was that I didn’t want to come down here in the first place. I cross my arms and rock back on my heels a little bit. “What are you making?” I hope I can get out of this…change the subject and just get on with the rest of the night.
“There’s peanut butter in the cabinet.”
Apparently she’s pissed.
I sigh heavily and move slightly closer to where she’s standing, stirring something in a pot that smells fucking amazing. “Look, Mel…”
“Don’t,” she shakes her head and looks over her shoulder. “You’re just going to start saying stuff you’ll regret later. And I don’t feel like yelling,…or having you cry right now, all right?”
“I just…” I have to suck in another breath and regain control of my emotions. I can feel my face growing hot, and that means the tears are well on their way. I refuse…I’m not going to break down for the second night in a row. “Thank you for everything last night.”
“My job,” she says, shrugging me off. “Peanut butter.” She points a finger to the cabinet on her left. “Cabinet.”
I don’t want any fucking peanut butter, and I’m getting really pissed that she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. But in fear that she’ll call my mom if I protest, I do what she tells me. I go to the cabinet and pull out the peanut butter and strawberry jam. Damn it, I think that’s the first time I’ve genuinely apologized for something and meant it in forever and she just…she doesn’t fucking care. Granted I did a lot of psychotic shit yesterday but still…she knows how messed up I am. It’s fucking unfair is what it is.
She’s a bitch is what she is.
I miserably yank the bread out of the breadbox and get a plastic knife out of my special psycho free drawer. Yeah it’s the one with sporks and plastic butter knives that cant cut worth a damn. I’d go for the real thing, but I’m sure it’s all locked up again and shit. Even before when I was up in my room and she‘d leave me food, I’d have the plastic utensils and shit. Just like in a medical ward. She’s one of them though. She knows what crazy people need. She’s a crazy nurse person. That’s what she is. I miserably spread the peanut butter across the bread, stealing a glance at her every so often. She turns off the burner after a few minutes…gets a fucking plate for herself. She puts a ladle in the pot…and pulls out a giant scoop of spaghetti and sauce. I feel the anger start to form in the pit of my stomach. Seriously, this is just wrong. I mean, it’s not like I hit the girl or anything. She took it upon herself to do what she did last night. She’s just angry because I caught her off guard. That’s what this is really all about.
She’s pissed because I caught her being somewhat normal. It’s total bullshit.
I finish making my sandwiches and get a paper plate out of my special drawer, before slamming it shut again. She’s sitting at the table now, chowing down on her fucking spaghetti and reading a Better Homes and Gardens Magazine. What the fuck is that about? My mother reads those damn things. Shouldn’t’ she be reading Cosmo or Vouge or something? Fuck, just the fact that she’s doing that is getting to me. Why? Is it so bad that she’s not cliché like the rest? It shouldn’t’ be. Madison says change is the best thing for me. But…but I don’t like change.
Ah fuck.
“So…” she begins, after slurping down a tiny string of pasta. “I called the guy at Best Buy. He says he can get you all new equipment. You just need to go down and tell him what you want.”
She’s acting like I can just drive down to Best Buy and shop with the masses. Has she fucking lost her mind? I can’t do that. I can’t even take a walk around the neighborhood. I mean, I haven’t gone anywhere since I got back from Florida. “You must be kidding.” I lean against the counter and pick one of my sandwiches up from the plate. “I’m not fucking going out.”
She laughs. She actually fucking laughs at me. Then she looks back at her magazine and starts to twirl more pasta around her fork. “Oh yes you are. I set up an appointment for you to go tomorrow at eleven thirty. Don’t worry, the guy said he’s dealt with you before. He said you’d been by there a few months back…” she trails off and rolls her eyes. “You know, to buy your entertainment center.”
I take a frustrated bite out of my sandwich and chew at her like it’s going to offend her or something. It’s really fucking lame, but it’s the best defense I can come up with right now. I remember that trip. Actually, it was a lot more than a few months ago. I’d just bought the house, and it was right before I was slated to leave for my North American tour. The house was literally boxes, walls, and carpet then, but Trace and I were so excited that we couldn’t wait to get back from touring to get the shit. So we went down to Best Buy, and the store manager took us through the steps. Of course none of the customers were any the wiser that we were in the store. That’s right, they set up a little room in the back just for me. He took us through the website, showed us the most current up to date stuff, and we put the whole thing together that way. It was fucking awesome. I almost smile thinking about it. But then I remember Trace isn’t my friend anymore, I don’t leave my house anymore…and all that stuff that I spent so much time putting together is lying in a junk pile in the front of my house for the trash collectors to pick up. “You’re just being a bitch because I caught you acting stupid,” I throw at her, mouth partially filled with peanut butter sandwich. “You know damn well I can’t go out, so just forget it. You go…you get the shit. It makes no difference if I’m there or not.”
“It makes a difference Justin!” She drops her fork, and it clatters loudly against her plate. “Have you looked at yourself? Jesus! I mean last night you looked like you were half dead…all pale and white. It…it scared me.” She pauses and shakes her head a little. “You can’t just stay inside and waste away all the time, okay? It’s….life doesn’t work that way, it doesn’t matter what you’ve been through.”
I don’t look at her. If I do I might have to agree, and that’s definitely not what I wanat to do right now. So I just stare at the picture of a chicken that my mom so thoughtfully put up near the oven, and try to tune her out completely. I chew my sandwich..try to think about what vanilla flavored peanut butter would be like. My plan seems to be working out really well too. It’s just as before, when Kerri was trying to feed me some bullshit about me getting a grip when she couldn’t even do that herself. I’m still good at this. It makes me smile a little.
“You don’t have to listen to me Justin,” she continues when I don’t respond. “It doesn’t matter. But you are going out tomorrow. I called Eric and told him to be here for nine so you could get some breakfast or something.”
The mention of Eric makes my smile quickly go back to the place it came from. “You did what?” I put my sandwich down and lean forward a little bit. She’s got to be fucking joking. She’s never even been around Eric before. How the hell did she get his number? I mean…I guess my mom probably would have given it to her in case of an emergency. But how can she just call him and make arrangements in my life that I havent agreed to? You know what? No. Fuck this shit. Nobody controls me. Nobody. “Well call him the fuck back,” I snap, violently. “Tell him I changed my mind.”
She doesn’t seem phased by my tone, or my threatening glare. She just sits there, turns the page, and eats her food. “No can do. He told me he was gonna call and tell your mom the good news. And if I call him back, your mom is going to start asking questions.” She finally looks at me again, and flashes me a pleased little smile. “Now that’s not what you want, is it Justin?”
Stupid conniving little bitch. She went out of her way to back me into a corner, and she knew exactly what she was doing. She’s absolutely right. Now that my mom knows, there’s no way I can tell Eric I don’t want to go. He’ll know something is up, and my mom will be out here faster than I can blink my eyes. That will just be bad. She’ll see the garbage…she’ll know something bad happened. Then she’ll question Melanie and I doubt the bitch would keep her mouth shut. She’ll tell her the truth, with the same stupid little smile on her face that she has on now. I clench my fists. God, I want to throw her into the wall. I really do.
But I know I can’t turn into that person again.
“I take it all back.” I throw my half eaten meal in the sink. “I’m not thankful you were there last night. I wish you‘d just get the fuck out of here. You‘re useless.”
“That’s nice,” she says, unphased. “Make sure you go to bed at a decent hour. I’ll be here at eight to wake you.”
I’ve been sitting in my room all day, and it’s thrown my body clock all out of whack. I didn’t even realize it was dark outside until just now. I feel like a damn cave man. I shouldn’t’ be doing it…I need to get out and see day light every once in awhile. I need to be normal again. But the very thought of setting foot around the general masses makes me want to crawl into a deep dark hole and never come out again. I fold my arms across my chest, and feel myself begin to tremble. How am I going to pull this off? Fuck…I have no clue. The only thing I do know is, if I lose it in front of Eric it’s either back to Tennessee or back to the looney bin for me. I’m thinking so hard about how scared I am, I don’t even realize I’ve said the words until they’ve escaped my mouth. “Please don’t make me go out there.”
She sighs and I want to kick myself for acting like such a pussy. I quickly storm away from her, figuring the most she’s going to do is give me some drawn out speech if I stay. I feel the tears escape my eyes as I reach the stair case. I feel nauseated. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. How the hell do I cope with this? There are going to be strangers at the store. Whats to prevent somebody from…trying to touch me? I slide down the banister and onto the floor. I hug my knees to my chest and rock myself a little bit. Great. Of course I’m gonna lose it now…just feet away from the one person I don’t want to see me this way. Come on Justin. Get a fucking grip.
“Look, how can you expect to get better if you won’t take the first step?”
I hear her voice come from somewhere above me. That means shes standing over me right now, yet again a witness to my infamous breakdown. “It’ll be fine,” I say quickly. “Just go away.” I rub the tears out of my eyes, but I don’t look up at her.
“You can’t brush me to the side Justin.”
A moment later I feel her sit down beside me. I’m scared. I guess it’s because I have so little human contact these days, that having anybody this close to me makes me extremely uneasy. Last night when she was searching for the cuts, I’m surprised I didn’t vomit all over her. I felt like I was going to. “I can,” I whisper. “I’m doing it right now.”
“Damn it. Look at me, will you?”
I don’t know why, but I do. She’s staring right back at me…into my eyes. Her expression is a concerned one. Not really caring, just concerned. But its her job to be concerned I guess. “What.”
“Do you like sitting in your room day in and day out? I mean, is it a hobby or something?” She runs a hand through her dark curly mane, and takes a deep breath. “Because if it is, then I guess I can sort of understand why you’re constantly up there.”
In my heart, I know the easiest thing to do right now would be to tell her absolutely everything that goes on in my head on a daily basis. Getting that all out, I realize, would relieve a lot of my anxiety. That’s why I need to open up to Madison more. When I it did in the past, it helped me a lot. But that hasn’t been happening. I search Melanie’s face for a few moments. I try to find the trust in her…the heart. I can sense it through her serious look of concern. I can sense that she’s a kind, loving person. One that would listen to me and accept me for the fuck up that I am. My mouth opens slightly. My mind is screaming at me to relieve it of all the shit I’ve plagued it with. “Melanie, I…” I stop. I can’t tell her about all of this shit. I can’t tell her that I beat up my best friend, that I told the other one I wished he were dead.
And I can’t tell her about Shane.
“Justin?”
“I…” I bite my lip and shake my head a little. “I guess I’ll be okay going tomorrow.” Its total bullshit, but I don’t know what else to tell her.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re a horrible liar, Justin. I know you’re scared, you don’t have to hide it. I don’t think anything less of you.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think of me,” I say softly. “I’m used to people realizing how fucked up I am. And yeah, naturally I’m scared. But you went and did this, and I have to face it. If I don’t…If I don’t start living again my mom is going to drag me back home with her. I can’t go back there.” I quickly get up from the floor. “So I guess this is the best thing for me.”
She doesn’t get up from the floor. She just looks up at me and smiles a little bit. “Up until now nobody has forced you to get a grip, Justin. Your mom brought me here because she didn’t know what else to do. Nobody else seemed to be willing to help you out, and she didn’t seem to think you cared about what she was telling you. I can’t…I can’t just sit here and pretend like you’ll get past your issues on your own. I hope you understand.”
I understand everything she’s trying to do. Part of me wants her to go far far away. But more of me wants her to stay. I kind of like having somebody around that doesn’t pity me. It’s nice. It’s a change of pace. No, we’re not friends or anything. She works for my mom, and I guess I can say that I’m fine with that now. I’m find with her being here…putting me in my place. I realize now that she’s here to do what my mom couldn’t do on her own. “I do.” I smile slightly. “But…I sort of need you to be there tomorrow. You know, just in case I get too nervous or whatever.”
She chuckles a little. “I guess I’m good for something then.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Goodnight.” She gets up, and starts walking in the opposite direction. “Try not to oversleep. Take a clock from one of the other rooms or something, so you‘ll get up.”
And with that she leaves me. I can’t help but stare after her, and twenty minutes later I snap out of it and realize I’ve been standing at the base of the stairs thinking about her the entire time. I shake my head, discouraged. I can’t do this. I can’t become dependant on somebody like this…especially her. Hell, she’s practically a stranger and I’m sure she has her own life and issues that I’m keeping her from. But there’s no reason why I should be getting attached to Melanie. I don’t know her, I can’t trust her. I feel stupid for semi latching on to her like I am. I have to fix that. I have to keep her at a distance. If I don’t something horrible is bound to happen. She might…want to be my friend. And I can’t afford that. I can’t afford to be her friend, to misguide her…to end up hurting her.
Yeah, I can’t afford it. But it doesn’t change the fact that I‘m desperate for a friend. I need somebody…anybody. I don’t want to be depressed and alone anymore. I just wish there was a way that I could be sane enough to gain somebody’s friendship and keep it that way.
But that will never happen.
*********************
“Shit.”
I haven’t had such a sleepless night in years. It’s caused me to be over an hour late this morning, and I’m not happy about it. For the past few years I’ve been on point, responsible. Working for Mrs. Donnabora helped me to focus on other things besides the rape. She really needed me, and she let me know that she did. She didn’t scream at me, or order me around like Justin does. It was really healthy for me to be around her then, I think. I don’t know how else I would have reestablished myself in society otherwise. Sometimes I think about how much I miss her. I wish I could have her back, that she wouldn’t have died. Sometimes I even get a little angry at her for getting old and dying, as if she could have prevented it or something.
I guess I haven’t realized just how lonely I’ve been without her for all this time. The woman really was like a mother to me, somebody who cared and didn’t criticize me all the time. She was the warm kind heart that I never had growing up. My grandmother had been a very strict, stern woman. She didn’t believe in hugs and kisses, just hard work and discipline. I guess she figured it would help me grown into a strong, independent woman. I can’t lie, for awhile I was pretty independent…confident. I didn’t let anything get in the way of my goals. Often, she’d tell me that I reminded her of my own mother when she was my age. I didn’t really see it then, but I guess I just didn’t want to. For a lot of reasons, I’ve always sort of resented my mother for the decisions she made about how she wanted to live her life. But it’s not like I could have told her what to do anyway.
When I was born, my father left her high and dry. She didn’t have a job, and she was still in college. I guess he was some kind of law student, and promised her that he was going to be around to take care of us. He held good to his promise too, until I was born. I guess the sound of a crying baby just didn’t float too well on top of term papers and the pretty girl that sat next to him in his classes. My mom said he married her. I for one couldn’t give a shit what he did or what he’s doing now. I doubt he even thinks about the fact that he has another daughter somewhere. He’s probably sitting happily in his big house with his twelve cars and two kids with their golden retriever. He doesn’t care that I was forced to grow up without a real family. That my mother was usually too busy doting on her career to remember something as simple as my birthday.
I’m all right about it.
My mother, the famous photographer. I have to laugh a little as I push Justin’s back door open. When I was three my mother couldn’t handle the bills on her own anymore and moved us to Michigan to live with my grandmother. She waited tables at night so she could be with me in the daytime. I was fine about it. I guess I was really too young to understand how much she struggled to support me and keep her mother quiet about the fact that she was stupid enough to get pregnant at the same time. For two years she worked a crappy night shift, making mediocre wages at a run down diner near the edge of town. I can remember her telling me she was saving up money so we could get a place of our own again, and how she was going to call daddy after that and try to get him to come see us. I can’t really remember everything that clearly, after all…I was three. But I can remember that I loved her then. I was sure that it would always be mommy and me, and I didn’t need to worry about mean granny that smelled like moth balls so much.
In the fall of ‘89 I started kindergarten. By this time I was five my mother had saved a sizeable amount of money, since my grandmother didn’t make her help with the bills. I remember being pretty smart for my age. I used to tell her I knew we were rich then…that we were going to go live in the deluxe apartment building on the other side of town. The one with the big pool and playground. Of course she would always laugh and tell me that we were going to…
And I really believed her. With my whole heart, I did.
She left that spring to attend some special photography school in New York City. Apparently she’d saved up enough to pay for half the tuition, and she’d received a loan for the rest. It was a major blow to me. It was like…one minute she was there smiling and telling me that she loved me, and the next she was kissing me goodbye, telling me to be a good girl for Grandma Mary. To say I was traumatized after that was an understatement. Of course I didn’t really let it show. I’d never had a father so I knew what it was like to have a semi normal sort of family. I had my grandmother, despite the fact that she didn’t seem too thrilled to be shafted with a five year old at that stage of her life. I tended to stay out of her way most of the time…holed up in a room with my coloring books and toys.
And I saw my mother…I did. Shed come home every few months, when classes were in recession, sharing her stories of college life and boyfriends over the phone with her friends from school. I used to stand in the archway separating the hallway from the her bedroom and listen to her talk. I desperately wanted to be like her then. New York had changed her. She seemed to get younger and more beautiful every time she’d come home from school. She was full of life…she was so cool. A world away from the cupcake baking, soccer game watching moms that my classmates had. I tried as hard as I could to make my presence known when she was at home. Anytime she wasn’t on the phone, or reading her books, or playing with her camera equipment I’d run to her side and beg her to tell me stories about her life. She seemed flattered that I was so interested, but at the same time she seemed so wrapped up in what she had to do that I was more of a nuisance than anything. Sometimes she’d toss me a lipstick out of her purse and tell me to put it on. That made me excited until I was about ten. Then I realized that she really didn’t want to take the time to raise me at all. If anything, I was more like a bratty little sister that constantly nagged her…not her daughter.
When I was eleven she stopped coming to visit, except for Thanksgiving and Christmas. By that time I’m surprised I wasn’t referring to my grandmother as mommy anyway, but I doubt she would have allowed that. I was, as my grandmother intended, a self reliant middle school girl. I cooked, I cleaned, I took myself to and from school. I applied myself to nothing else besides my studies and the few friends I did have. By the time I hit high school, the thought of my mothers glamorous lifestyle was basically a faded memory. She called now. She didn’t visit. And I didn’t care. I’d been accepted into the popular crowd at school. I was in all the advanced placement classes, and every good looking guy in school was fighting for my attention. I was successful in everything I tried to do, and I realized early on that I didn’t need anybody to help me achieve what I wanted out of life, especially my mother.
I was accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in Michigan. There, I was finally able to break away from my grandmother and her expectations of me. It was in my freshman year that I really started to discover who I was, and what I wanted to do. Just like high school, I was socially accepted, and I excelled in my classes. Three years into my college experience, I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and I had a surefire plan on how I was going to get there. I remember a few days before the beginning of finals, my friend Jenna and I went to a party at one of the fraternities across campus. A lot of the people we usually hung around with were going to be there, and Jenna being the man magnet she was, had her heart set on winning some good looking jock’s heart.
I don’t remember when we separated. I just know that it was later, Jenna snagged her man, and I broke off to sit down and have a drink. Then I had to go to the bathroom. I probably could have just left then, and gone to my friends dorm room since I was tired anyway and wanted to crash. I don’t know…I guess I was just lazy or something. Or maybe I just really had to pee. I went to the bathroom in the frat house. It should have been safe. Nothing bad ever happened at those parties, because everybody knew each other. I remember peeing. I remember washing my hands. And then I remember something hitting me, hard, on the back of the head.
When I woke up, I was on the floor. At first I didn’t know where I was, but when I looked up…it came rushing back to me in about two seconds. I went to the bathroom…something hit me… Now there was a strange man on top of me, ripping my blouse open. I wanted to scream, I tried to scream…but he just held his hand over my mouth and pulled a knife out of his back pocket. I remember the light hitting the blade and it sort of glinted magically right before he stuck it next to my throat. “Please don’t scream.” His voice had been calm. Eerily calm. “I just can’t have you doing that.”
He’d been really skinny. Really pale. The cheek bones jutted out of his face like they could poke holes through his skin at any moment. He had the saddest brown eyes I’d ever seen…sunken in, dark circles around them. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot red. I remember the phrase ‘he’s on something’ repeating it self in my mind over and over. I breathed hard, I tried not to whimper…and he took his hand away. Then I just laid there while he smiled and stripped my clothes off in the bathroom stall. The whole time I listened for the sound of the door being opened…but it never did. The music from the party was still raging on, and I knew then that nobody was coming…nobody cared. He had his way with me then…stripping off his own clothes and forcing himself inside of me like I was some kind of animal. I don’t even know how long it lasted, or how long I laid there after he’d gone. I just know that I was cold…the floor was cold, my head was spinning. I couldn’t move, breathe…call out for help. I couldn’t let anybody know what happened.
Somehow I managed to pull my clothes back on. I wasn’t thinking about my friends…how worried they’d be about me when they couldn’t find me, I just ran. I ran as far and as fast as I could away from that god forsaken bathroom stall. I bolted myself inside my dorm. I shoved my dresser in front of the door and sat, huddled, in my bed. I was terrified he’d come back. And I just…I just knew I couldn’t tell anybody about what happened. It was dirty and disgusting. I couldn’t help thinking about the fact that I’d just lay there…and let it happen without trying to defend myself. I blamed myself after that. I was stupid. Stupid for being lame enough to let somebody do that to me. And slowly, I shut everything and everybody out until there was nobody left. My friends couldn’t understand, and they didn’t have time to. My teachers had too many students to notice the fact that I was slipping. I failed all of my finals that year. I didn’t care. I had no heart left to care.
The dean pulled me into her office before move out day that year to discuss my grades. I’d taken a few pills from my roomates stash that morning so I could try to wake up, but the look on the dean’s face when I sat down in front of her, told me that she knew I was on something. She told me that she didn’t understand why an outstanding student like myself would have failed all of her finals. She wanted to know if something had happened to me, and if so she wanted to help. I’d just stared at her, because I knew I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t be embarrassed like that. So I just told her I hadn’t applied myself like I should have, and I would have to take a few classes over the following year.
She didn’t believe me. She called my mother.
My mother who hadn’t been involved in my life really, since I’d started high school. I didn’t really know much about what was happening in her life, besides the fact that she’d gained a name for herself doing her photography work and had reached the point where she was traveling the world taking pictures of famous people for magazines. It was a bitter meeting when she flew out to the dorms. She’d been pulled away from her work, and I had no desire to talk to her.
“Well?”
I’d changed the station on the television.
“Melanie, would you fucking look at me please? I had to rearrange my whole schedule to fly out here for your emotional problems. I tried to have grandma come but she told me that she was done sacrificing herself for my mistakes. So I’m here.” She’d dropped her hands at her sides and let out a disgusted sigh. “Now what the hell is this about you failing your final exams?”
I wouldn’t look at her. I think at that point I was more interested in watching Britney Spears shake her ass in front of the camera in her latest music video. “It happens.”
“Well that’s not what the dean said. She said you’ve been a star student since the moment you stepped through the doors. She seems worried, she says you’re not acting like yourself.”
I laughed at her. It had been years since she’d even bothered to ask me how I was, what I was doing, or what my plans were. She was there because she had to be, so her mother wouldn’t be angry with her, and that was all. “Look Georgia, I have my problems, and you have yours. You haven’t worried about me for years, so you don’t have to stand here and act like you’re worried now. I’ll be fine, just like I’ve always been.”
“Look, don’t act like I’m a horrible person okay? I never…I didn’t plan on having a kid when I had you. I…I had no business having one. I needed to better myself, and you…you did just fine with grandma. I know you did.”
I don’t know why, but I started to cry then. Normally, crying wasn’t something I ever did. But I hadn’t cried when the rape happened, and I hadn’t cried since. I guess it was just time to let some of the pain out. My mother’s presence had pushed me to the brink. It was just making me so angry that she was there, pretending to care…trying to act like she’d only left me because she’d had to. It was bullshit…all of it. And I wasn’t’ prepared to take all of that on at once.
“You look half dead.”
“What the…” I look up, interrupted out of my memories by his voice. Justin is standing next to the microwave, chewing on an apple. He has a small, almost cute smirk resting on his face as he chews…like a mischievous little boy. It makes me want to smack the hell out of him and tell him to go get dressed. But after surveying him for a moment, I realize I don’t have to tell him to. He’s done it already…quite well I might add. He’s wearing a simple royal blue polo shirt with jeans and black checkered sneakers. I notice that he’s shaved, and combed down his usual mess of light brownish hair. He looks…good, as much as I hate to view him that way. Maybe not good as in “hot”, but good as in presentable…yeah, that’s it. Even though his eyes…his eyes are nice…
Oh god, I need to go back to bed.
“Just saying.” He takes another big bite of the apple before throwing it into the trash, half eaten. “You’re late, I almost had a heart attack.”
My mouth hangs open as he crosses the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. “You did? I’m really sorry Justin, I didn’t mean…”
“I meant I was shocked, not freaking out.” He’s laughing. Fucking opening the new carton of milk even though theres a half empty one in the fridge still, and laughing at me. “I was a big boy,” he finally says. “I took care of myself today.”
I scowl. “Looks like even rejects of society can make miracles happen,” I grunt, and swing open a cabinet, searching for the box of oatmeal.
“What’s up your ass,” he chuckles. I feel him behind me for a moment, and it makes my skin crawl a little bit. “You were the one that was all about going out this morning.” I hear the scraping of the chair being pulled out from under the table. “So I’m ready.”
When did the tables turn? When did this asshole become Mr. Happy to Comply? There’s something wrong with him, yeah…definently chemically imbalanced. Maybe he took too many happy pills. Shit, but that’s bad. “Justin, how many pills did you take today? Don’t tell me you’re all doped up because of this trip today.”
“I didn’t take any pills today.” He looks at me long and hard for a few moments, as if he’s searching for something. I don’t get it, and I’m nauseated enough as it is without being analyzed by him right now. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re way too high strung?” He guzzles his milk.
What? Oh no, I’m not tolerating this. He can’t treat me like shit for all this time, and then act like he’s perfectly fine one day out of the year. He can’t act like I’m the one with the problem. I’m not the one with the problem. He‘s the mental case. My mother didn’t hire somebody to come live with me, his did. “You’re not making any sense,” I snap. “This isn’t how you are. You’re never this upbeat. Stop acting like a moron.”
The brightness fades from his eyes. “I’m a moron because I woke up in a good mood?”
I’m confusing him. God…why did I have to be up all night thinking about my past? Why could I have just forgotten about it like always and gone to bed? I’ve never had an issue shutting it out before. It’s all his fault. It’s his fault because…because his situation is so similar to mine. It’s been a long time since I’ve remembered it all in such great detail. It’s fucking me up. I should call Susan at the home but…no, now isn’t the time for all of that. “No…god…” I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I woke up late. My body is all out of synch. Don’t worry about it, you’re fine.”
He shoots me another confused glance, but then the doorbell rings and I know its going to be Eric. There’s no time to talk now, because I know I need to be presentable for this guy. I know anything that happens in front of him, is going to get reported right back to Lynn and I really don’t need her calling me up to ask me if I have some kind of issue, or if Justin is slipping. I need to show him I have things under control, and that Justin is doing okay. If I can do that, then I think everything will be just fine.
Unless of course, Justin decides to become an asshole again, which is more than likely.
“That’s going to be Eric,” I tell him quickly, as the doorbell rings a second time.
He’s not so cocky this time. “I know.”
“You’re okay?” I don’t know why I’m concerned.
He shrugs. “Does it really matter, Mel?”
“Yeah.” I say, slightly annoyed. “You know I care.”
“Look.” He leans back in the chair and rubs his face for a few seconds. “If he pulls you off to the side and tries to ask you shit about me, just play along. Don‘t let him know that anything happened. Just tell him I‘ve been taking my meds and that I‘ve been okay for the most part.”
Frankly, I never thought Justin would have been as prepared as he seems to be for Eric’s visit. From what I can tell he planned everything out, to cover his ass. He’s ready to be charming, pleasing…and as psycho free as possible. It makes me cringe to know that he’s this good at faking it, because I know I used to be able to pull the same act off myself. Hell, I still can. As we speak, I’m pulling it off so he’ll be none the wiser about the mess that I really am behind closed doors. “You planned this all out,” I scoff. “Didn’t you?”
He flashes me another rare grin. “Didn’t sleep a wink.”
Justin gets up to answer the door, and I mutter “That makes two of us,” under my breath. He doesn’t acknowledge me though, and I guess its better that way. I can’t have him asking me questions. But I mean, who knows if he’d even care enough to ask anyway? No, I need to stop pretending that I can magically bond with Justin because of what I’ve been through. He doesn’t care about me, or anybody else. He cares about himself, and that alone is a great reason for me to dislike him as much as I do.
“Hey man!”
I really don’t want to look over, but something inside of me makes me do it. Justin is embracing a large black man now, who looks like he might have played half back for the 49ers at some point in his life. He also looks like he could kill somebody instantly by sitting on them good at hard While this is comforting…while I know nobody would dare to mess with Justin while he‘s around, I still get the feeling that his protection wont be enough to ease Justin‘s paranoia today. I’m pretty sure Justin hasn’t been out of the house much at all since his kidnapping, and never to such a busy place like a chain retail store. I suddenly wonder if my tough love theory was the best thing to spring on Justin this week. Maybe…maybe I was just annoyed. Maybe I didn’t think. Maybe I should just cancel this whole thing.
The two men separate then, and that’s when I see it. The fakest expression of happiness that I’ve ever seen on Justin’s face. You’d think he was the Life cereal kid, like his face is going to crack open in a second because he’s smiling too hard. I feel like I’m going to vomit.
“Eric meet Mel…Melanie.” Justin corrects himself quickly as he leads Eric my way. Weirdo. You can’t call me by a short nick name in front of people either?
“Melanie.” Eric smiles warmly and it seems out of place on his large head. “Lynn told me you were the woman to hire if you’re in a bind.” He laughs a little nervously, as he shakes my hand.
“Well, yeah,” I send him a smile that could have competed with the one Justin gave him a moment ago. “I’m not too bad at dusting.”
This greeting would have been fine…said and done and we could have been on our way. But no…no, because now Justin has thrown his arm around my shoulder and starts to laugh like some infomercial host. “Isn’t she a riot?”
I’m waiting for him to say ’but wait! There’s more!’
Eric slightly narrows his eyes at me, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. Justin is a bullshit artist. I can see why Justin is worried about the guy pulling me aside, because he knows Eric can probably see right through his act. Fuck, I think anybody could though.
“Well I ate,” Eric tells us. “And if you two are ready to go I can just call ahead and let them know we’re on our way down.”
Personally, I’d love to get a move on. The less time I have to stand here awkwardly while Justin cracks his face apart, the better. But of course Justin, wanting to prove that he is in no way a psycho, has to ruin the perfect opportunity to start the day off. “Nah, just chill for a minute. I have to change my shirt I think.”
“You all right man?,” Eric chuckles as Justin turns toward the stairs. “You seem pretty wired. I don’t know if you should be goin’ out like this.”
For the smallest fragment of a second, Justin steals a glance of desperation my way. But I guess I’m so annoyed with him at the moment, that I don’t feel like making up an excuse for him. I clear my throat annoyingly and focus my attention on spot on the ceiling.
“I’m fine,” Justin laughs again. “I just don’t think I want to go to Best Buy in this shirt. The color…they’ll think I wanna work there or something.”
That is the lamest thing I’ve ever heard, but it’s enough to get Eric to laugh and tell him he’ll be waiting for us in the car. The large man exits, and Justin doesn’t wait for me to yell at him for acting like such a moron. He books up the stairs, probably thinking I’m not going to follow him.
It’s sad that he would think that.
(Continued next post)
Story Tags: justinandtrace
