by Julie Solano
“Why are you doing this to me? Won’t you please just take the gift?” If she won’t open it, I will. I’ll just put it under that stubborn face of hers and make her remember. As soon as she sees it, everything we had will come back. Without further thought, I pull the snow globe from the bag. When she hears the paper rattle, she shuts her eyes tightly. I hold it just inches from her face. There’s no way she’ll be able to deny what we have when she sees this. “Open your eyes, Peyton. Open them, now!” I growl.
“I can’t look at this stuff! I can’t. Don’t you get it?” she snarls back.
“No, I don’t! I don’t get why you’re getting rid of our stuff. Why are you throwing us away like this? Open your damn eyes, Peyton!”
“Do you really want me to open my eyes? Cuz you won’t like what happens if I do!”
“Yes, I want you to open your beautiful eyes. I want you to see what I got for you. I want you to remember what we had together.”
“Fine,” she huffs. She opens her eyes, and looks down at the ball that rests in the palm of my hand. She studies the scene I’ve had captured in glass. Her breathing deepens as she begins to shake her head wildly. I brace myself for whatever it is she’s about to say.
“You Son of a Bitch!” Her volume increases until her voice begins to fly out in flames. “You just couldn’t leave it alone. You had to force me to look back at that place. You feel like it’s your job to make me remember, don’t you? DON’T YOU?!?!”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did. Look at it, Peyton. It’s us. It’s the bridge. Read it.” My voice becomes shaky, and I feel the first warm tear slip from the corner of my eye. “What’s wrong? What is it?”
“What’s wrong? What the hell is wrong? You are what’s wrong! I can’t look at you. I can’t look at any of this! It all makes me sick! Didn’t you notice? I can’t even be in the same room as you without throwing up? Get out! Get out, now!”
“Peyton, please. I love you. I can’t make you sick.” By now, the tears won’t stop. I can’t leave. I won’t leave. I will stand my ground until she loves me back.
Peyton growls some of her last angry words through her gritted teeth. “I said get out! Now!” In a flash, I watch the beautiful glass ball being snatched from my hand, just before it flies from hers, and hits the wall with a crash. Shimmery water, gently runs down the wall, leaving a glittery stained path in its wake.
I look down at the snowflakes and broken couple lying on the ground next to the wall. They’ve been separated from the splintered bridge that’s resting under her bed. Shards of glass lace the carpet, near the doorway. “Now take your stuff and get out!” She screams one last time. I’m frozen in place. I don’t know what just happened. She picks up my box and throws it through her bedroom door, just missing my head.
I look down at the scattered contents, laying in the hallway. “You don’t want to do this. You really don’t,” I sniffle.
“Oh yeah?” Peyton lunges for a shard of glass, swiftly grabbing it from the ground and gripping it tightly like a knife.
I’ve never seen her like this. The way she’s holding that glass looks like she’s about ready to strike. Would she really slash me? I picture it all in slow motion. As she begins moving toward me, I put my hand up to shield my face. She’s gone crazy. I can’t leave her mother alone in the house with her. “I’m not leaving you, while you’re acting like this.”
“Want a bet?”
I’m not quick enough to get out of the way. When she springs forward unexpectedly, I feel the tear of the dagger come down on my hand and make its way clean through to my elbow. Fire runs across my ripped flesh.
“Peyton, stop!” I hear Mrs. Carter scream from behind me. “Caden, go. Get out now! She won’t hurt me. It’s you that she has a problem with.”
Holding my slashed arm, I back my way through the doorway. I grab my jersey off the floor to wrap around the wound. Down on the ground, working on my injury, I can hear Mrs. Carter trying to calm her. “See, Peyton. This is why we’re taking you down to that specialist. They said they can help with this.”
“Mom, I tried.” She wails. “He wouldn’t leave! He doesn’t get that he makes me sick. Everything about that day makes me sick! They keep shoving it in my face. They’re smothering me.”
“I know it feels that way, honey. They’re just trying to help you, the only way they know how. We’ll get you through this. You’ll be in the city. Away from the trees. Away from the mountains. Away from your friends. Your auntie will take good care of you.”
“Friends?” Peyton screams. “They’re not my friends! They were her friends. And look what they did to her. I don’t even know who that girl is anymore. They killed her! The old Peyton is dead, Mom. Dead!”
I look back through the doorway to watch the scene unfolding before me. Mrs. Carter has her arms around Peyton. She’s swaying with her back and forth, back and forth, stroking her hair as she calms her. “Shhh. It’ll be alright. You’re alive, sweetie. Everything’s going to be okay. You never have to see them again. Caden’s leaving now.”
As she rocks her, Mrs. Carter looks back over her shoulder and pleads with me. “Caden, please go. Take your stuff. It’s the only way to help her. We need to get everything about that day out of her sight. I know you love her. If you want to help her get better, you’ll do this for me. For her. Take your stuff. It’s over. You have to move on.” I bob my head up and down, knowing there’s nothing else I can do. “I’m so sorry about your arm. Do you need me to call someone to take you to the hospital?”
“No, my sister’s waiting for me outside. It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine.” I know damn well, it’s not just a scratch. I can feel the blood seeping through the jersey I’ve wrapped around the gushing wound. I’ve caused enough damage, and I don’t want to add any more trauma to this volatile situation. I try to man up and suck my threatening tears back in my eyes. “Before I go, could you just answer one thing?”
“I can try.”
“You said she needs a specialist. What’s wrong with her?”
“Post-traumatic stress. It’s the worst case Dr. Curtis has ever seen. We’re sending her to a specialist down in Palm Springs. She needs the change of scenery.”
My heart sinks. Peyton is leaving. “When will she be back?”
“I’m not sure if she will.”
“So we’re really done?”
“I’m afraid so. It’s time for you to move on, son. It’s what’s best for her. The counseling is not working. This is our last hope to get her better. None of us like the idea of sending her away. But you see her. She’s dangerous. She’s got to go.”
I have nothing left to say. I bow my head, swallow the big lump in my throat, and gather my box of belongings.
I walk the box to the garbage, where I see the rest of the trash strewn around the ground. When I dump it next to the big green trash can, I’m able to see up close, all the papers I noticed scattered about earlier. One holds our grins, another our eyes. Piece by piece, I recollect every moment, all of them, now shredded on the ground before me. That’s when I realize, Peyton is gone for good.
I STRUGGLE TO OPEN MY puffy eyes when I hear the vibration of the phone on my nightstand. My head is pounding as I struggle to read the small white number and missed call message. Looks like Jenna’s trying to get ahold of me. I glance at the big red numbers on the clock. 8:50. At least she let me sleep. If that’s what you can call it. As I try to block out yet another nightmare of crazy, shard-brandishing Peyton, clawing at the back of my mind, a text comes through.
Jenna: T told me about what happened with Peyton the other day. You okay? :/
Me: Guess so. Feeling a little sleep deprived lately. My arm is still pulsing where she slashed me.
Jenna: There’s no excuse for attacking you. PTSD? Are you sure she’s not just crazy?
Me: Go easy. We both know the old Peyton would never do that. This one’s been through a lot.
Jenna: Don’t tell me you
’re defending her. I hope you’re done with her after this.
Me: It is my fault. But yeah, we’re DONE! I haven’t talked to her for a week. It’s time to let the relationship balloon go. O~ I’m a free man, Jenna. Free.
Jenna: Would it be inappropriate to celebrate your new status?
Me: Totally appropriate. You have an idea?
Jenna: Take me with you to that charity event you always go to. Ty’s got family over, and I want to help out. Plus I want to put something positive out into the world … and maybe help distract you from your fatal attraction.
Me: Honestly, I think the attraction’s gone. The last few times I saw her, she scared the crap out of me. I’m really done this time. She’s not the same Peyton anyway.
Jenna: That scary, huh?
Me: You have no idea. Feeling lucky to be alive. Change of subject please.
Jenna: Yeah, let’s go back to tonight. You want to take me, or not? I’m begging you. I need a break from this project. It’s driving me crazy.
Me: You’re still working on your report? I thought it was due before break.
Jenna: Well, since I was having such a hard time with it, Mrs. George extended my deadline. She told me I could turn it in after break. Minor setback though. My report was on that missing flash drive.
Me: Crap. What are you going to do?
Jenna: Well, Daemon’s helping me catch up. He heard me telling Mrs. G that it’s missing and offered to help.
Me: Daemon, the French dude? Do you think that’s a good idea? You know he’s crushing on you. You’re not sending him the wrong signals, are you?
Jenna: He knows I’m all about Ty.
Me: I hope you’re right.
Jenna: So about Night of Lights?
Me: The Dash to the North Pole starts at 4:00. Can you pick me up by 1:00? We need to get down there early so we can sign up and get our list of tasks before the parade starts.
Jenna: Oh, I see how it is. I’m driving again?
Me: Just one more time. My arm is throbbing ;)!
Jenna: Better idea. Let’s hitch a ride with your parents. My car is not good in the snow, and my weather app says Mt. Shasta is in for a big one tonight.
Me: Sounds good. I’ll let my parents know they have two hitchhikers.
Jenna: It’s a date.
Me: See you then.
We pull into Mt. Shasta a little after 2:00. The street is bustling with people getting ready for the Christmas parade kickoff. Floats block the road, while horses jump around nervously from all the commotion. Santa hats bob along as people make their way to any opening to view the parade. “Son, there’s no parking on Mt. Shasta Boulevard. I’ve got to be at my checkpoint for Dash to the North Pole. The logging truck will be pulling in any minute. Take my keys and go park in front of the store.”
I have to drive? With all these people. Hell no. “Seriously? I have to sign Jenna and me up for the Dash. Not to mention, you want us to walk all the way back up here in the snow and ice?”
“I’ll sign you kids up. Being a sponsor does have its perks. Plus, you don’t have to walk. There are trucks and sleigh rides leaving the parking lot every twenty minutes.”
“But Dad, they have carolers on them.”
He smirks. “It’s not going to hurt you to listen to a little Christmas music. It’s either clydesdales and carolers or hoofing it three blocks. Take your pick.”
I can tell I’m not going to win this one. He holds the keys out in front of me. I grab them from his hooked finger. “I’ll be back.”
As soon as my dad slides out of the truck, I turn to Jenna, “Here.”
“Here?”
“You’ve got to drive,” I quickly mutter, shoving the keys into her hand. I can’t handle the thought of driving these streets. Why does it have to be so crowded? I don’t want to hit anyone. I’m not in the right frame of mind to be driving. Sweat begins to pool around my hairline.
“Seriously? You really don’t want to drive your dad’s truck? I thought you lived to drive this rig.”
“I’m not feeling so good. It’s my arm.” I hope I sound convincing. I’m already having panic attacks from all the cars and people. It’s a swarming ant hill around here.
“Well, if you don’t want to, I have no problem taking her for a little spin.”
“Thanks.”
Jenna discreetly slides over my lap, switching me places. I’m so thankful that she’s the badass that she is. What other girl would take on the challenge of driving a truck this size in these crazy conditions?
Cautiously, she pulls away from the crowd, crosses the railroad tracks, and heads down to the store. The crowding somewhat subsides until we get into the parking lot where everyone is gathering to start the parade. I scan the crowd, looking for an open space, when my sister’s eyes meet mine. She’s next to Brody, sitting on the flatbed of a caroling truck. Her eyes track us until we’ve parked and stepped away from the truck. Why does she look so unhappy? Crap. She sees Jenna driving. I’m toast.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I take the keys from Jenna and lock the truck. How am I going to explain this to T? I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see her watching me. I won’t bring it up if she doesn't. “We’d better get over to the caroling truck before it takes off without us.”
The caroling truck begins to lurch forward as we scurry across the parking lot to try to catch it. It’s moving slow enough that I can jump on. Jenna still gallops behind, waiting for my help. I lower my hand and grip Jenna’s, pulling her up onto the flatbed.
“Wow, looks like your arm is doing better,” she grins.
“I guess it is.” Wow. I surprise myself. That was the first time I haven’t thought about favoring my arm in a really long time. I rotate my shoulder a couple times, just to make sure I haven’t re-injured it. Jenna watches my face closely. I can tell she’s checking for signs of pain. It feels alright. “I think I’m good.” I chuckle. I’m amused that I just used my arm without too much pain. “Come on. Let’s have a seat.” We climb up on the truck and sit down next to T.
She sits quietly for a moment, looking as though she wants to say something. She holds off for a few minutes until she finally decided to open up. “I’m telling.”
“You’re telling? Are we six now? What are you telling on?”
“Dad’s truck.”
“What do you mean, you’re telling on Dad’s truck? It didn’t do anything.”
“You know what I mean.”
I know exactly what she means, but I can’t let her know that. “What? He told us to bring it and park it down here. What’s the big deal?”
“I’m sure he did tell you to bring it down here. So why’s Jenna driving? You love driving Dad’s truck. Like I said … I’m telling.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is. Jenna’s a good driver … better than me.”
Kaitlyn narrows her eyes. “The big deal is that you haven’t driven since the accident. It’s been over a month, and you still won’t get behind the wheel. Something is wrong with you, Caden. Really wrong. I’m worried about you. Mom and Dad need to know. You need help.”
I hate being called out on my weaknesses, and if anyone knows my Achille’s heel it’s my sister. “Screw this.” I turn away from her and watch the carolers assembling for their first song. Their mouths begin to move in perfect O’s as Carol of the Bells starts ringing out around me. It starts out slow, but as the rhythm and volume of the song intensifies, my nerves begin twisting into knots. This was supposed to be fun, and here I am, stuck in the middle of The Nightmare Before Christmas. I begin to rebel against the injustice of being stuck on this truck with eighty year old Christmas carolers and a sister who needs to butt the hell out. Plugging both ears, I begin to shout, “La la la la la la la la!”
I feel the heat creeping into my face. I push the grating voices from my mind. Why can’t they understand why I don’t want to drive? The last time I got behind the wheel, I killed my girlfriend. Maybe not her body, but
her spirit. Now, she’s all but dead, and I have to live with the fact that it’s my fault. I momentarily lose focus allowing the continuously looping la la la la’s and ding dongs to re-invade my senses. Old lady voices. Ding dong, ding dong. Grating violins. I want to take them and break them over something. I feel the anger rage inside of me. I’ve had it. I’ve had it with Peyton. I’ve had it with T. La la la la. La la la la. Ding dong, ding dong. Why are they trying to out-sing each other? “For the love of God, make it stop!” I yell.
“Caden, what’s gotten into you? You’re going to hurt their feelings!” Kaitlyn puts her hand over my mouth. I don’t have to take this. I don’t deserve this. I’m here to help people, not be driven out of my mind. At this point, I’d do anything to stop this nightmare. I grab my ears to cover any further assault of Carol of the Bells. It’s not working. I look down at Jenna. “See you later.” I stand up, climb over the hay bale, and jump off the side of the truck, making a mad dash for Mount Shasta Boulevard.
As I approach the Italian restaurant I feel a quick tug on my shoulder. I jump from the sudden, unexpected touch. I turn around to see Jenna, “Holy Crap. You scared the hell out of me!”
“Good!”
“Good?”
“Maybe it will wake you up to the reality of this situation.”
“What situation?”
“He could still be out there, Caden. What happened to sticking together? You know damn good and well we aren’t supposed to go anywhere alone. You took off like a bat out of hell. What happened back there?”
“I was sick of it. That’s all.”
“Sick of what?”
“I just wanted to have fun today, and people are trying to force me to drive, force me to ride with old lady carolers, jump my shit for stuff beyond my control. I just want to have a good time for once, okay? We need to move on with our lives. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I don’t want to be reminded of it. I don’t want anything to do with it. I just want peace. I want to watch the parade, go do my good deeds for the dash, and enjoy a traditional, family Christmas. Is that too much to ask?”