Their odor was still there, yet absence was the strongest smell in the room. While looking through their stuff, as if searching for a long lost memory, she found a small picture frame pendant her mother used to wear often: it contained a picture of Hayden and her brothers, and their parents. Pictures taken many years ago, many happy moments ago, many smiles ago. She wore the pendant, sure that she wasn't going to take it off anytime soon. After looking inside the closet, she sat on the bed and rested her head on the pillow, staring at the family pictures that were adorning the dresser on the opposite side of the room, and before finally closing her eyes and falling asleep she vividly saw her mother's smiling face close to hers: whether she was already dreaming or not, it doesn't matter.
SIX
Hey, Hayden! Wait up," yelled Marika from outside the school entrance as Hayden was already about to ride off.
"What's up?" she asked, as her friend approached, eager to quickly leave those school grounds she so hated.
"I just wanted to talk to you for a second," Marika replied. "I feel like we never have the chance to talk lately. You always run off after school. Are you busy or just avoiding me?" It was true. All Hayden had been doing since she came back to school was try to be invisible and mute, eating alone and pretending to be too focused on the lessons to interact with her classmates.
"I'm busy avoiding people... nothing personal, Rika. It's just I can't deal with all this. You know... the looks, the questions, I don't want any of this," she confessed.
"You do know that I understand you and know what you are going through, right? You were there for me, let me be there for you now." Marika had lost her older brother just six months ago to a drug overdose, and Hayden had been very close to her during that period – she could never forget that.
"How do you do it?" Hayden asked after a moment of silence.
"Do what?"
"Move on." "I'm not sure I'm the right person whom you should be asking that. I don't think I've moved on. I'm just waiting for the day I'll meet the person who sold that stuff to my brother and send him to jail. I wake up every day seeking revenge, or simply justice. I'm not sure that's called moving on, Hayden."
"Does it get easier, at least?"
"No, it doesn't. You just get used to the grief."
All Hayden needed was to give some meaning to whatever had happened, and to what was going on in her confused soul. Just a reason to keep holding on, to understand why this tragedy had happened to her. But life rarely makes sense, and trying to find sense in death is even more disorienting than anything. Life is not supposed to make sense as you live it. Maybe it will make sense at some point in the future; or maybe never. As the two girls parted, Hayden put on her earphones and turned her purple iPod on. Her favorite song, Just Hush, began playing, like it had been playing in repeat mode for the past two days in a row:
Promises were made to be unkept/
tears were made to be wept/
hearts were made to be wrecked/
and baby it's OK to feel inept/
And as the song played over and over again for the whole ride back home, Hayden wondered how she had become an inept in a world she so much used to love.
March 4th
Dear Diary,
I survived school this week.
Impressive, uh?
H.
SEVEN
Loud and earsplitting music had been deafening the whole neighborhood since ten am, and Hayden was sort of wishing his brother, and his band, would soon realize that it was time to give a break to everyone's eardrums. She put down the book she had been trying to read in vain for the past two hours, and headed towards the garage where they were playing.
"I think you should take a break," she said, but no one heard her. The music was too loud. Mike was playing the electric guitar, while Nick was the drummer, and Jesse J. was pretending to be the lead singer. Obviously, he was just a terrible substitute for the real one, who apparently had ditched their usual Saturday morning practice. In the meantime, James, George, Alex and Will were busy tossing the football ball at each other, almost enjoying that atrocious concert.
"Hey!" she yelled, trying to grab their attention. "Mike!"
"Hey, sis!" he yelled back as soon as he noticed her, but he did not stop playing. They just kept going, as if stopping in the middle of a song were unimaginable.
"Can you stop?" Hayden said.
"What?" Mike yelled back. "I can't hear you!"
So Hayden walked inside the garage, headed to the back and unplugged all their instruments. In a second, silence filled the air.
"What the – ." It took Mike a moment to realize why his electric guitar was not working.
"Now can you hear me?" Hayden said with an edge, still holding the cable.
"Oh come on! What's your problem? We're rehearsing," said Mike.
"Yeah I've heard! And it's been two hours. I think you need a break."
"No we don't, we ain't tired yet."
"Okay, let me rephrase that: my ears need a break... and so does the whole neighborhood."
"You're such a party pooper," said Nick while getting up from his seat.
"Did you just say “party pooper”?" asked Jesse J. "Yeah, why?" Nick asked.
"Seriously, man? Last time I heard someone say that, I was probably in fourth grade," he said, laughing.
"Aren't you still in fourth grade?" said James, mocking him, while getting ready to get back inside the house.
"Very funny," he said. Everyone laughed warmly at that, even Hayden. Sometimes our hearts lighten and we don't even realize it. How or when, that's not important.
Once their friends had left, the Wilson siblings spent the rest of the day just hanging around, laughing and talking and eating and watching TV – nothing much, but it was a happy day. We tend to underestimate the importance of simple moments, but when your life is filled with grief and sadness, you learn to appreciate every good instant you get.
As evening approached, Hayden became more thoughtful and quiet for no apparent reason. Enjoying herself had suddenly felt wrong. During dinner, she barely said a word.
"Everything okay?" James asked her.
"Uh?" She was lost in thought.
"I said, is everything okay? You seem absentminded," he said.
"I'm fine... it's just... does it ever feel wrong to you? Laughing and everything. I mean, moving on. Should we?"
"Hayden, we can't die along with those who have passed away. We are still here and we have all the right to go on, and be happy. Laugh. Have fun. Don't feel bad, because they'd want us to be here right now at this table having a good time."
"Yeah...It just doesn't feel right sometimes, you know?"
"I know," he said, while stroking her hair and giving her an encouraging smile.
"Now eat."
"So, guys, uhm...now that we've brought that up," said Will, swallowing his last piece of meat, "I think we should decide what to do with their stuff."
"Excuse me?" asked Hayden, perplexed.
"We have been thinking that it's pointless to keep their room unused, with all that stuff – " stepped in Mike.
"'We who exactly?" Hayden interrupted him, in an angry tone, "and 'pointless' my ass!"
"Hey, watch your language," said James. He was really into this guardian-parenting role.
"What's wrong with you guys?" Hayden ignored him. "It's not even been two months and you're already thinking about how to get rid of the last things we have left of them?!"
"No one wants to get rid of nothing, Hayden!" said Will, getting a bit angry himself. "You know, they were our parents too, so don't go all noodles on us! But life goes on and there are things we gotta keep up with. I don't know if you've noticed or if you even give a shit about it, but we need money, and selling their stuff would help."
"Okay, everyone, let's just calm down a second," said James. "Hayden, please don't get mad, we are here to discuss. The point is that having
a spare room would make things easier, Mike and Will have been sharing their room since ever, and we just thought that one of them could take Mom and Dad's room. I mean, no one's using it."
"You've thought about selling their stuff?" she asked.
"Just the furniture, maybe," he confessed.
"Are we here to discuss this, or are you here to convince me? 'Cause it looks like you've already done a lot of talking without me," she said furiously. Hayden fell silent, waiting for an answer that never came.
All James said was, "Hayden, you can keep everything you want to; the rest, goes."
"I already got the pendant, you can do whatever the fuck you want with the rest of their stuff," she said while getting up from the table. "You can burn the whole fucking house down as far as I care," and her room door was soon locked shut. She didn't mean half of what she said, yet she said it anyway. As Hayden sat at her desk, waiting for her computer to turn on, she accidentally bumped her elbow in the corner of the chair. And strangely, that pain felt good.
Before going to bed, she updated her Facebook status: My days have a way of going from okay to bad in an instant, so let's hope I only get bad days from now on. Up and downs are not my thing.
Someone once said that you should be careful what you wish for, because you might end up getting it. And Hayden had to be very careful. Because even wrong opportunities can come knocking at your door, and they are often disguised as the chance you've been waiting for your whole life.
There was something strange about her sadness. A sort of melancholy that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried. No matter what she did. It was always there, deep into the bones.
March 5th
Note to self: happiness is just an illusion. Whenever you feel happy, just remember that that's Karma making fun of you.
H.
March 7th
Dear Diary,
Today in English class our teacher asked us to pick a letter of the alphabet, and find three words to define ourselves and our feelings. I chose:
Alexithymia – 'cause I have no idea what I'm feeling these days.
Ambivalent – 'cause even though I don't know what I'm feeling, I know I'm totally mixed up.
Ataraxia – 'cause that's all I wish for.
I also added a fourth one: “Afflated” - 'cause I was feeling pretty inspired today. I hope my teacher appreciates the effort, I could really use an A.
Too bad the assignment was so short, otherwise I would have added more words, like:
“Ad Hockery” - 'cause long term planning is not my thing anymore.
“Abject” - ' cause I'm totally miserable.
“Abortive” - ' cause I'm worthless.
H.
PS. No one's talking to me, in case you were wondering.
EIGHT
Days passed, and Hayden showed no intention of interacting with her brothers; and neither did they seem willing to make the first move. Everyone was just too busy with their dull days to figure out a way to make things better, or maybe they just simply did not know how to do it. But isn't pretending to not have time to care, the same as not caring? Perhaps not necessarily, but this is what Hayden started to believe.
At school things weren't getting any better either, she didn't feel like talking to anyone, and no one bothered to break down the invisible walls she had built around herself, even Marika was strangely distant. The worst part was that Ashley, Allyson and Kristina didn't leave her alone: they'd stop her in hallways, during lunch and after school. Every occasion was right to offer her a place in their group.
"We're going to the Beach tonight, wanna come?" Allyson said, while they stopped Hayden on her way to class. The Beach was a famous disco-pub in town, which Hayden had only heard of, since she had never been to one of those places in her entire life.
"I'm not sure my brothers will let me," she replied, trying to cut the conversation short.
"What? You think our parents allow us?" Kristina said with a big smile. "We just sneak out of the house, or pretend we're sleeping over at someone's place or whatever."
"Right. How fool of me to think that you ask permission to do something."
"You really need a break from life," Ashley said, not really expecting a reply. "Do you need more stuff?" And by 'stuff' she meant cocaine.
"No, thanks." Hayden remembered she had left that sachet in her coat, which was still by the entrance. She was soon going to realize that changing jackets had not been a smart move.
"Well, listen up. If you wanna come, meets us there at eleven- thirty pm. And dress appropriately," she said winking at her, while the three of them walked away.
'Dress appropriately' meant wearing heels, a short skirt, and a sexy tank top, along with heavy makeup. Obviously Hayden had none of those things back at home, after all, all she was used to wearing were jeans and oversized sweaters; and besides, there could be no way she could sneak out of the house without getting caught – she was too clumsy for such things.
Hayden soon dismissed those thoughts, but before walking inside her classroom, she halted for an instant, startled by the realization that she had actually considered the option of going to the Beach that night. What was she thinking?
Her last period class, English literature, was a disaster. And it all started with her teacher, Mr. Lowe reading James Whitcomb Riley's poem, Away, aloud:
"I cannot say, and I will not say
That he is dead--.
He is just away!
With a cheery smile,
and a wave of the hand
He has wandered into an unknown land,
And left us dreaming how very fair
It needs must be, since he lingers there.
And you--
O you, who the wildest yearn
For the old-time step and the glad return--,
Think of him faring on, as dear
In the love of There as the love of Here;– "
"This poem is complete bullshit," argued Hayden aloud, rudely interrupting her teacher. The whole class stopped to look at her, while the teacher thought of the best way to confront Hayden.
"I am sorry, Hayden," he began saying, putting the textbook down on the desk. "I realize I might have chosen the wrong poem, considering the circumstances – "
"The circumstances?" Hayden asked, in a mocking tone, interrupting again. "This poem is just pure crap –"
"...But I will not tolerate such language and disrespect in my classroom!" Mr. Lowe raged, getting up from his seat. Hayden looked at him straight in the eye, then quickly collected her stuff and walked outside, slamming the door. She left school half an hour before the dismissal bell, not worrying about possible consequences: she just didn't care. So much for that A.
She went home, pleased to find out it was empty. Doing her homework wasn't an option, so after smoking a few cigarettes and making herself a sandwich she spent the next two hours playing basketball on her own in the backyard, hoping to relieve some stress, but the only alleviation came from a small cut she got on her arm while accidentally hitting the metal fence in the yard. She soon realized that physical pain made her somehow feel better. She headed to the bathroom, to put a Band-Aid on the wound and before she could realize what she was doing, a small razor blade was cutting deep into her skin. She watched the blood pour out and dribble onto the floor. It didn't hurt like she thought it would, instead she could not help but notice that there was something fascinating in that macabre act. The way that sharp razor fit perfectly into the skin, like they had been made for one another. And it felt good, like breathing again after a long time underwater. As she heard somebody walk into the house, she quickly cleaned up the bathroom, put a bandage on the bleeding cuts and headed to her room, without bothering to see who had come back home.
A while later, James came home from work slamming the front door. "Is Hayden home?" he asked Will and Mike, nervously.
"I have no idea. I haven't seen her," Will replied. "Ha
yden!" James yelled, knocking hard on her door.
"What?" she said, annoyed, as she opened the door. Will and Mike were standing in the background, trying to figure out what was going on.
"I got a call from the principal today." James was still wearing his work uniform.
"And?"
"Do you mind explaining to me what the hell is wrong with you?"
"That poem was stupid."
"You are stupid!" he shouted. "Are you trying to get yourself kicked out of school?"
"I was just giving a personal opinion about the damn poem. What's your problem?"
"You are my problem!"
"Yeah well, you're my problem too, so I guess we're even," she shouted back.
"Guys, come on..." Will tried to calm down the situation.
"I'm doing everything I can to keep this family together!" James kept shouting.
"Well, lemme tell you something: you-are-failing. Big time." Hayden replied, yelling back.
"I should have just put you in a foster home and live my life! This house would have been much better without you around screwing everything up."
"You want me out? Great!" she said while grabbing her jacket hanging by the door. "I'm leaving."
"Hayden!" Mike tried to grab her, but she was faster, and in a second she was already on her bike, riding towards self- destruction.
It took them a while to notice the cocaine sachet lying on the ground.
NINE
When Hayden arrived in front of the Beach, around eleven-fifteen pm, the place was already crowded: dozens of young men and women waiting in line for their turn to enter. Hayden spotted Ashley, Allyson and Kristina approaching from around the corner of the street, dressed like they were in an opening scene of a porn movie. Heavy makeup and lit cigarettes adorned their looks. She walked towards them, in her ordinary clothes.
BF 2nd edition Page 3