Chapter 20

It’s raining outside, which is odd for SoCal.  But I guess every once in a while we’ll have a cold front come through and all day it’ll rain and rain.

And rain.

I’m surprised I know what a cold front is.  I guess cause I’ve been watching a lot of TV lately. The Weather Channel is usually the only thing late nights that gets me to sleep.

It’s kind of chilly outside, too.  Not that I would know.  Still, I put on a hoodie and sweat pants and socks.  It really wasn't cold in my house, but I felt cold.

I haven’t left my house today, just gone downstairs to make Sarah and I breakfast.  She came in earlier and I was asleep.  I felt something moving beside me in my bed and at first thought it was one of my dogs, but it was her.  She touched my bare shoulder and called my name.

I didn’t answer at first because I thought I was dreaming.  I had just had a dream that we were back there, but it wasn’t scary and none of us were afraid.  And in a way, this is probably bad to admit, but, in a way I kind of liked it.  I guess part of me wanted to go back.  Because while I was there I was tortured and abused and everything, but I didn’t have to deal with it, I didn’t have to think about it, I didn’t have to try and fake it through my life.  I was scared and seriously thought I was going to die, but I was alive.  I was trying.  And I wasn’t constantly, always in pain like I am now.

In fact I don’t think I felt anything while we were there, sure there was physical pain, but I find myself not remembering parts of it now.  Right after it happened it would replay in my mind over and over perfectly clear.  And now, now it’s just a fog of confusion and fear and weight, god the heaviest fucking weight in the world. 

And I can’t push it off of me.

The memory is worse than the experience in a way.  And I wish the memory would just go away.

Sarah shook my shoulder a little more and said louder, “Justin?” and I woke up from my dream.

I turned over and rubbed my eyes and asked, “What is it?”

She did nothing more than lay down on the bed beside me, curled up to me, holding onto my arm and she said, “Hi.”

I didn’t say anything to her at first and finally just sighed. I wasn’t annoyed that she was woke me up I just wished I could go back to sleep, she was nodding off and I was now wide awake, her body pressed against mine and making me a little nervous.  When I looked over at her she was lying beside me, eyes half open, smiling.  Her hands were clutching my bicep and her chin was pressed against my shoulder.

“You want breakfast?”  She nodded. And we walked downstairs with my dogs trotting behind and I popped some Eggos in the toaster and fed my pups who ate greedily out of their metal dishes.

She says she never had Eggos before.  But she’s lying on her stomach on my bed, her feet up in the air, eating them drenched in syrup.  I know she’s already gotten some on my sheets but I don’t mind.  She’s happy, staring at this Wild Discovery program on the National Geographic channel.  It’s about underwater life and she’s fascinated.

"It doesn't look real."  She says, putting a piece of the waffle that’s way too big into her mouth. 

"I've done that before."  I say to her, pointing to the scuba diver.  I haven’t been that deep and it was probably more like snorkeling, but I had an air tank and it was amazing.  I swear it's like the most eerie, peaceful thing.  You can't hear a damn thing but your own thoughts swimming around you and you feel weightless.  It kind of reminds me of what heaven would be like, in a way. 

If there is a heaven.

I heard too that apparently before you die by drowning you get into this very zen-like, peaceful state.  I always assumed you'd panic and be choking on water and trying to swim.  But I read or saw somewhere that you just kind of float there and then you fall asleep and die. 

But...but I don’t know how people would know this.  It's not like someone who drowned can come back and say "oh that was cool."

I don’t think I could ever kill myself unless I knew it would be painless.  Lately I’ve been getting emotional and uptight about the smallest things, a paper cut, a shaving knick, banging my elbow in the door.  I just hurt, a lot.  Sometimes even sitting or standing will hurt, like deep, deep in my bones.

"That's you?"  She turns and asks, chewing.

"No, but what that guy's doing, I've done."  She swallows her food and turns back around, her bare legs and feet swinging in the air.  It's funny I'm covered, cold, shivering under my covers and she's on top of them in a tank top and some shorts.  She...she looks good.

She's getting color on her more and more each day and it...it looks good on her. And her legs have a little more muscle on them, not a lot.  They’re still thin, but we’ve been walking outside around the house a lot with the dogs and she’s eating more nourishing things that probably help her muscles grow.

I’m sure Eggos aren’t part of that group of things, but still.  Whatever. 

She has her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she must have done it herself and it doesn’t look half bad.  And her legs look smooth. 

I should stop looking at her legs. I sigh and stare at the TV. 

I've been better, at least on the crying front.  I haven’t been breaking down like I was a few weeks ago.  I mean I still get weird about things sometimes.  Lately I've just been thinking weird shit.  Like about dying.

And about sex.

I jacked off for the first time last night.  It was weird.  I just decided to do it.  I was laying in bed watching some shit on ABC or something and I just started playing with myself, just as something to do and then...then when my dick got hard I seriously think I just stared at it because it hasn’t been hard in forever.  So then I started stroking.  And I came so hard and so fast.  It was like I was thirteen again and I would have been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good.  I barely had to touch myself.  It...it was so strong it almost hurt when I came.  I didn’t even think about anyone or anything in particular.  I just concentrated on how my hand felt.  But I kept looking at the door, thinking Sarah was going to come in and see me doing it.

So I knew I had to get it over with fast, and I did.

Then I fell asleep like a brick.

While I was making Eggos I called Mike to see if he wanted to come hang out for the day, but he sounded horrible like he was sick.  Sarah wanted to talk to him and even though she's seen me use the phone she’s never actually used one before. When I put the phone up to her face for her she yelled "Hi Mr. Mike!"

He laughed a little and then started coughing and I told him to rest up in bed.  He asked if he should call anyone to come over...security wise.

I told him no.

And....and I've actually been ok.  I haven’t freaked out about it.  I mean there's a gate right? And my dogs and an alarm and, and even though Mike's sick I'm sure he could take a guy down.  Maybe.

The show goes to a commercial and Sarah flips channels.  She's learned how to do that very quickly and often I find her channel flipping for hours through the TV, just staring, absorbing everything.  She changes it to TBS or something.  Boy Meets World is on and even though I know she doesn’t understand the jokes, she'll laugh whenever the laughing audience soundtrack is played.

It's been a good week for us over all.  Sarah had two really good sessions with Dr. Cantopolis.  Lisa said that Sarah wouldn’t shut up.  She kept talking and talking about anything and everything.  She said that I looked good, too, better than she's seen in a while.  That kind of made me feel better about a lot of stuff.

Momma called.

At first I was a little reluctant to talk to her.  She said she was just asking how I was doing.  But then she asked about Sarah and I said, "Mom it's none of your business."

It was quiet on the phone.  And then I heard it.  I heard her crying very, very softly over the phone.  She said goodbye to me and hung up.

I didn't think.

It was instinct or something when I dialed her back immediately.  When she answered I said, "Momma please don’t cry."  And she started to cry harder.

She apologized for pushing me and said she just wanted me to be happy.  She started blaming herself for things, talking about how she should have done this or that differently.  She started saying things about how she knew I'd never be back to my old self again, that she knew what I went through isn’t going to leave me and that there’s no cure for it.  It kind of made me sick to my stomach to hear my own mother have no hope for me at all. 

But then she said she did have hope for me and that she wanted me to be happy again, she wanted me to have a life, to do whatever the hell it was I wanted.

"I know you need your space right now. I know you need to figure this all out in your head.  And I know you don’t want to bother any of your family with your woes, but we're here to help.  And I know you won’t take it and I know you don’t think you need it, but if you ever, ever want to come home, I'm here baby.  Or if you need me to come out there I'll be there faster than you can say it." 

I started to get choked up.

And then she said, "And I don’t even want you to think that I'm ashamed of you or that I think you're making a mistake about this girl, Justin.  I think what you've decided to do is honorable, admirable, it just shows how much of a heart you have.  I just don’t want you to ignore everything that you have going on for her.  You need to make sure you're ok, too.   Because if you aren’t ok, you can’t help her.  And...and pushing away your problems and saying that making her better is all that matters is false and you know it is.  Don’t be afraid to ask for help.  And I guess I'm being selfish but...but I...I want my son back Justin."

At this point I was crumbled up on the floor of the kitchen, listening to Sarah watching the TV way too loud in the other room, hearing the microwave beep when her popcorn was finished.  I could barely speak and when I said, "Momma you aren’t selfish, you’re the most selfless person I know."  I couldn’t say it any louder than a whisper.

"Just make sure you’re helping Sarah for the right reasons Justin, and make sure you’re not using her as a shield.  I want her to get better, too baby.  I know you care about her and I know she looks to you for help, but you can only do-"

The sadness and loneliness and even slight happiness I had for speaking with my mother faded with a snap and I cut her off, pushed myself off the floor and said, "Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this."

"Fine."  She didn't sound mad, or defeated.  She sounded as if she was going to let that slide.  She was compromising with me, trying to figure out how we could work, despite how different we felt about Sarah.  "I just don’t know what to do to help you."

"Just be my momma.  Just tell me all the crazy shit that's happening with dad and grandma and them.  I do miss you momma." The loneliness and sadness came back like sudden wave of dizziness and I went to the table and sat down, exhausted, run down by my own emotional chaos. "I really do."

"I miss you, too baby."

I sighed and watched Sarah walk into the kitchen, completely ignoring me.  She grabbed a soda from the fridge.  She's been obsessed with Dr. Pepper lately and will burp loudly and make herself laugh, not a giggle, an outright rolling on the floor laugh, especially when I do it with her.  One time she clapped for me when I burped so loud it seemed to echo the house.  It made me smile for some reason.  She grabbed her popcorn and I smiled at her though she didn’t see me, happy that even that simple of a task she had learned to do herself. 

"I don’t want to lose you from my life..." I said to my mom when Sarah left the room. "There’s just parts of it right now you...you can’t understand and that doesn’t mean anything bad.  It just means that I gotta figure this out on my own.  I have to try, ok?"

It was a good conversation over all and she’s called me once every day since then just to talk.  Mostly it’s her talking and me listening, but I’ve cherished it.

Now Sarah’s laughing as Roscoe tries to lick her plate and she keeps laughing and laughing, pulling her plate back and tapping him on his forehead. “No Ros, no!”

I just watch them.

Suddenly Roscoe snaps.  He starts growling and only 2 seconds pass before I hear his nails scrapping against the wooden floor and he’s down stairs.  I hear him bark.

I hear Franco bark.

I can’t breathe.

Sarah’s scrambling up with her plate still in her hand, staring at me, scared and confused.  “Did I do something wrong?”

Then I hear it.

The last time I heard it was several months ago and it stuns my movement and my brain for a moment.  Trace was drunk and playing with it and set it off.

It’s much louder than I ever remember it, like a fog horn.  Not a beeping, annoying blare like a car alarm but more like a fire alarm, constant, deep, ear-piercing, hurting.  I can’t breathe.

Sarah is staring at me, crying immediately, sobbing, hands over her ears and she’s shaking.

Fuck.

I swallow the lump in my throat.  It’s just Mike.  It’s just Mike.  It’s just Mike.  He forgot to call first and tried to get into the house and it set the alarm off.  That’s it. That’s all it can be.  That’s all it has to be.

I scramble out of the bed and point at Sarah and yell over the alarm. “Stay here, don’t move.”  She screams and shakes her head and I can hear her whining “no, no no” over the loud noise.  I yank her up and shake her by the arms.  “Sarah please…..please…”

She’s sobbing, crying harder than I’ve ever, ever seen her cry.  I can’t hear her now but her mouth moves, “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t!  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

And I realize I can’t leave her here.  I can’t.  It’ll destroy her and…and…and if someone is breaking in they’ll take her from me.  And they can’t take her from me!

I grab her hand tightly and tug her with me to my bedroom door, surprised when she doesn’t fight me but follows me willingly.  I look out of it and I don’t see anything suspicious.  The alarm echoes and booms and throbs in my ears throughout the vaulted ceiling and I tug her along with me carefully down the hallway.  I look out of the window there that looks to the front of my house.  I blink and I peek.

I don’t want to see it.  I don’t want to see him trying to get us.  I don’t want to see the camouflage and the guns and the white suit.

I can’t see it or I’ll just…I’ll die.  I know I will.  I’ll just crumble. 

I see a Prius.

And in that moment my fear doesn’t subside but adrenaline runs through me and I drop Sarah’s hand and sprint down the steps.

It’s her.

She’s there, stylish rain coat over her shoulders, strained face, sunglasses on her head, even though it’s rainy outside, a cute little gold purse on the wooden floor by her gold flats and she’s pushing in numbers, cursing to herself.  My dogs are sniffing her feet and wagging their tails.  They are no longer growling and barking.  They remember her.

She turns and sees me and shouts, “You changed your code?”

I stalk over to her and literally push at her shoulder to push her out of the way.  I press the code and press cancel into the keypad and after 5 seconds the alarm stops.

And the quietness that fills the air is deafening and hurts almost worse than the noise.  My ears ring and feel stuffy.

“Shit…” She runs her hands through her blonde hair and takes off her glasses as she goes, dangling them carefully in her hand.  She then starts to smile.  My stomach hurts. “Hi.”

I open my mouth to speak, but I’m not quite sure what I’m going to say.  Thankfully the front door swings open and Mike huffs and puffs and leans against it, the broad shoulders of his grey t-shirt are dotted with specs of water.

His eyes are wide and he’s breathless not just because he was probably terrified out of his mind but because when he says, “What the fuck?” it’s nasally and he probably can’t breathe out of his nose with this cold he has.  He wipes at his face to get the water off of it.

“Mike!”  Cameron squeals and immediately steps over to hug him around his neck.

“Girl…shit, hey.”  He laughs quietly and pats her back before she pulls away.  He looks at me and the emotion that washes over his face I can’t pinpoint.  It’s fear and worry and maybe a little disappointment.  He’s being cautious around me, almost like he’s scared of me. “Sorry man, I was sleeping.”

“It’s ok.”

He sighs and nods, “I’ll call and cancel the alarm.”  Good, good.  I hadn’t even thought about that.  Last thing I need right now is a handful of police swarming up on my property.

I take a breath and can feel myself shaking and my heart beat is pounding in my ears.  My eyes are having a hard time focusing and I go to lean against the banister at the bottom of my steps and concentrate on breathing.

“Thanks.” I say to Mike when I realize they are both just staring at me.  He nods shortly, waves to Cameron and leaves.

Shit, I wish he’d come back. Please come back! I don’t want to be here with her.  God she’s not welcome here.  Who the fuck told her she could come here!?

“What are you doing here?”

“Justin…”  She sighs and tilts her head a little giving me this look like I’m a fucking child.  She leans down and drops her glasses on top of her purse and steps forward to me, smiling that smile, that fucking smile I use to tell her I was in love with.  Now I hate it.  It’s too big, too fake, too much.  Nothing’s that good to smile that big about. 

“I…I came to check in.”  She bites her lip a little and gives me a look, a look I use to die for.  She’d give me that look from across the room and I’d make my way over to her, and touch her hip and lean in and whisper in her ear dirty things, dirty nasty things I wanted to do to her body and she’d giggle.

And then we’d find a room and do all those nasty little things.

I feel sick.

“You should have called first.” I say and I’m surprised by my tone, how low my voice is.

“I’ve tried…”  She rolls her eyes a little, but is still smiling.  “You won’t answer.”

“How did you get through the gate?  I changed that code, too.” 

She just stares at me. 

Oh fuck no!  She keeps staring and then looks down at her toes that are wiggling in her little flat shoes. 

I shake my head and say, “My fucking mother.”

“She’s just trying to help.”

I cross my arms over my chest.  I want her gone, now.  She makes me nervous and makes me think back on a life that I will never….ever have again.  She thinks she can come back here and make everything better.  Well she can’t! And if she expects me to just be with her she needs to think again….because I will never be able to be with her again.

Or anyone.

“Well you checked in and now you’re done, right?”

Her smile drops and I can see her eyes start to get glassy. “Are you serious?  After…after all we’ve been-“

“We’ve been through?”  I cut her off.  There is no fucking way I’m going to let her do this to me.  It infuriates me and I feel my face turn red and I clench my fists.  Anger is surging through me and I can’t stop it.  I just can’t. “You mean what I’ve been through, no, no, no, because all that matters to you is what you’ve been through.  Oh poor, poor Cameron.”

“Justin…”

I bang my fist against the banister and narrow my eyes at her. “Why the fuck did you come here?  Just to make yourself feel better?  Well I’m a fucking mess Cameron, does that make you feel better?  But it’s not because you aren’t with me.”  I step closer to her and the fear that stares back at me from her eyes makes me feel good, powerful.  I’m letting her know that I can’t put up with her shit any more.  I grit near her face and point to my front door violently.  “Fuck you. I don’t want you here. Get out of my house.”

“Don’t do this.”  She whispers.

“Don’t do what?”

“This…”  The fear falls from her face and worry takes it’s place.  “Don’t push me away.  I love you.”

I don’t know what happens but I find myself gripping her upper arms and spitting out towards her.  “You love shit.”

The fear comes back to her face and she shakes her head at me and says, “Please…please don’t…..”

But she stops and I see her eyes move past me to the stairs, and when I turn and look there’s Sarah holding onto the banister staring at both of us with wide eyes.

I loosen my grip on Cameron’s arms and says softly, “Sarah go back upstairs.”

“Who’er you?”  She asks curiously to Cameron.

Cameron lets out a small gasp and I turn to look at the woman in front of me. “This is that girl, isn’t it Justin?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and turn and smile at the girl on the steps. “Sarah…I’ll be back in a second, ok?  Just go back to my room and turn on the TV.”

She bites her lip and looks at me for only a moment before staring at Cameron.  I turn back and Cameron has her arms over her chest and she’s staring right at me, tight mouthed, eyebrow raised. “Are you fucking her?”

I blink.

I don’t know how long it takes but it feels like I’m staring at her for centuries.  And finally I can’t stand the sick, antagonizing look on her face.  I grab her shoulder and bring her close to me, gritting out through clenched teeth. “What did you say?”

I can’t see.  And I can’t think.  All I know is the Cameron just said…said that, insinuated that.  As if I could do that to her, as if I’m him.  As if I’m evil like that and would do that to Sarah.

Her back hits the wall and her eyes are wide and both of her hands on are on my arm trying to pull me away.  She’s whispers, “Justin…” 

“Don’t ever….ever say that again!” I yell at her.  “You have no fucking clue what’s happened to me, what happened to her and if you think I’m anywhere near that sick of a bastard as to lay a hand on her like that then you are one fucked up woman!”

“Let go of me!”  She screeches and takes on of her hands and smacks me across the face with it.

“Get out of my fucking house!!”  I yell and let her go, pushing her away from me.  She scrambles away and I kick her bag at her.  She scoops it up eagerly, forgetting her glasses.

The door slams.

I let out a breath and run my hands over my head.  I have no fucking idea what just happened but I fucking lost it.  I sigh and walk to the door looking out the windows surrounding to see Cameron turn her car around in my driveway and leave.   I push a few buttons into the keypad by the door and close the gate and lock the house and reset the alarm again.

Shit.

I lean my forehead against the wall there and let out a moan.  I don’t know what just happened.  Oh god I just lost it.  And…and she’s going to go back and tell my mom.  She’s going to tell my mom that I almost hit her.

Great.  Fucking great.

I turn to lean my back against the wall and I open my eyes.

I gulp.

No.  No…

She’s clutching the banister, tears are streaming down her cheeks and she’s slowly shaking her head.

Fucking hell.

I rush to her and she cowers away from me, crumbling down into a ball on the steps.

“Sarah…”

“You’re mean.”  She sniffs and mumbles from where her head is buried into her knees.

“No…”  I start to cry, it all just falls out of me and I can’t stop and I sit on the steps beside her and pull her against me, feeling her hands push at my chest, trying to push me away but I pull her into me and cry and cry.  God, fuck.  No! Now she thinks I’m him!  She can’t! God don’t do this to me!  I didn’t mean to.  I was just so angry…please.  “No, please…no…”

She stops pushing and starts clutching and she’s crying with me, crying into my chest and wringing my sweatshirt in her hands, pleading with me, whispering harsh and emotional, “Please…please don’t turn into him.  You’re good, please….”

We’re both pleading to each other, pleading to ourselves and I feel pathetic and exhausted.

She starts breathing heavier and I try to stop my crying by rubbing my sleeve against my eyes and nose.  She’s still clutching, but I can feel her trying to physically calm herself down by taking in slow, steady breaths.

I pull back a little and run my hand over her head, when her deep brown eyes look up at me.  I say softly, “Me and her use to be friends and she became a very mean and selfish person and I just don’t want her anymore.  She scared us, ok?  It’s….it’s fine.  I got angry.  I messed up. I shouldn’t have done that, Sarah.”

She nods, sniffs and stares straight at me. And when she says, “Don’t do it again. Please…” She doesn’t sound pathetic or like a child, but like my friend, asking me kindly, but seriously, to change.

“I…I won’t.”  I whisper and lean my head against hers.  “I promise.”

She sighs and holds me back and I’m thankful she’s there.  Roscoe comes up and stares at us just wagging his tail back and forth and Franco is sniffing on the floor where Cameron had been standing. 

It feels good to hold her like this and I close my eyes trying to wash away the images of me pushing Cameron against the wall, of me getting that angry.  I try to forget that feeling.  I try to forget how powerful it made me, how for a moment I felt like I could do anything again.  I wasn’t weak anymore.  I was strong.

And I liked it.

I shouldn’t like it.

I just promised to Sarah I wouldn’t get angry like that again and I pray to God that I can keep that promise.

I won’t become him.

I will not.

I…I can’t.