Worth It
Copyright © 2014 by Nicki DeStasi
Editing: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing
www.unforeseenediting.com/
Cover design: Robin Harper, Wicked by Design
https://www.facebook.com/WickedByDesignRobinHarper
Interior Design: Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
To victims of abuse: Get help from a friend, a parent, a confidant, a partner, or a professional. Don’t let your pain fester.
“The greater the difficulty, the more glory in surmounting it. Skillful pilots gather their reputation from storms and tempests.” —Epictetus
Also, to my husband, family, and the friends I’ve made on this journey. I love you. Three simple words, but they say it all.
This story contains graphic sexual violence and abuse. Unfortunately, this is a common occurrence that damages young women and men. This story, in no way, condones violence.
Please also note that this story contains self-harm. Unfortunately, this is also very common, especially among adolescents who are hurting and look for an outward way to express their pain.
If you know someone who might be showing signs of abuse or self-harm, please do or say something. Acknowledging the person’s pain or offering help could mean the world to the person who is lost.
Through this story, I hope I can help even if it’s only one person.
“Anna!” Mom snaps as she flicks on the blinker and switches lanes. “Would you cut the knee-bouncing shit? I’m stressed enough without you fidgeting all over the place.”
Putting a hand on my knee, I attempt to keep it still, but I’m so nervous right now, and the energy wants out. My heart is sprinting, my palms are sweating, and my nerves are way beyond frayed, but I try to relax anyway because I know my mom is having a hard time with this. It can’t be easy for her to see the man who once knew all her demons and who impregnated her at fifteen before abandoning her. I was told that when he’d made her take a paternity test, she had been shattered. Her love for him was unrequited, and that killed her. Ultimately, in the words of Maury Povich, “He is the father.” I guess his mom, my grandmother, forced him to visit on occasion. Then, he bolted completely when I was two, and my mom met my stepdad, Mike. I guess Rick—my biological father—thought Mike had the father thing covered, and he does—kind of.
“Sorry, Mom,” I mumble, looking out my window. I focus on the afternoon summer view, attempting to calm my jackhammering heart and brace myself for what’s coming.
How can I possibly prepare to meet my biological father? In my fourteen years, not a day has gone by when I haven’t daydreamed about meeting Rick. I don’t know how to describe the desire to know the man who gave me life. His absence eats at me and makes me wonder why he’s not there for me. What’s so wrong with me that he doesn’t want to know me? I ask myself that question every day. Every single time we take the trip from our small town of Groton, Massachusetts to Green Bay, Wisconsin where Rick along with my extended family lives, I’ve envisioned what it would be like to meet him. Almost every year, we come back to Green Bay to visit family, and every time, Mom contacts him to ask if he wants to visit with me.
Every time, he says no.
But this time, he said yes. I have no idea why he agreed to see me, but my heart swells with hope that I’ll finally have Rick in my life, and I’ll finally have someone who can love me like I need to be loved.
“I’m sorry, Savannah. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” Mom says quietly while running a shaky hand over her blonde hair, which is haphazardly thrown together on top of her head. “I’m so fucking stressed about having to see him that I could vomit. Not only do we have to come back to this shit place with all the shit memories it brings, but I have to see this asshole, and I’m barely hanging on to my sanity.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I understand,” I mumble, wringing my fingers now that I’ve managed to still my knee.
A piece of me is hurt that she’s not more understanding of the emotional roller coaster I’m riding, but I brush off the self-centered thought. I’m getting used to it, and what she’s been through is much worse than having an absentee father. She’s struggling now, and it’s selfish to let her lack of concern wound me. I don’t know what triggered it, but for the last year, she’s been locking herself in her room and crying, only surfacing to lash out. I want to be there for her to help her, but I don’t know how. My dad, Mike—well, technically, stepdad, but he’s my dad in every way that counts—can’t help Mom either. He’s broken, too. He’s quiet and doesn’t show his love for me or the two sisters he gave me, but I know he loves us. He adopted me, and that in itself speaks volumes for how he must feel about me. He also works his butt off to provide for the family, and he gives up almost all his time to do it, too.
The car turns into the parking lot of the park where the visit will take place. My hope is overwhelming, but I’m also shaking with nerves. What if I’m not good enough? What if I’m not pretty enough, smart enough, skinny enough? What if he meets me and decides I’m not worth the trouble? The idea that my hope of having a relationship with Rick might be for nothing has my heart beating out of my chest.
I have to be perfect.
Mom steers the car into an empty parking space and roughly throws the car into park before turning off the ignition. When she sighs heavily, I glance over to see her face is drawn, and she looks a lot older than her thirty years. I wait for her to make the first move as the summer sun begins to bake us in the car now that the air conditioner is off. I don’t say anything though. I’m afraid that I might set her off.
She leans forward to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She lets out a soft, choked sob. “I can’t fucking deal with any more stress right now, so just be good, Savannah, okay?”
“Okay,” I whimper softly.
I don’t want to be the reason she withdraws further, so I’ll be as good as possible.
I’ll be good. I’ll be strong. I’ll be perfect. Not just for her, but for me, too. For us.
I have to be perfect for us.
The pressure makes my throat tighten and creates sweat along my forehead.
Failure is not an option. I have to be better than perfect.
She opens her door without another word, and I do the same. I round the corner of the car and meet my mom by the trunk, and we begin walking toward the park entrance where my actions will make or break the future I want, the future I yearn for, the future filled with someone who can love me.
I know my parents—my mom and Mike—love me the only way they know how, but I need more. I’m starved for a simple “I love you” or a hug.
A man dressed in jean shorts and a navy blue T-
shirt, seated on top of a picnic table, comes into view. When his gaze lands on us, he stands to his full height that must be over six foot, and he begins strolling in our direction. My heart rate picks up as I watch the man, who has my jawline and my dark brown hair, approach closer and closer until he stops in front of us.
Not one of us speaks for an agonizing moment, but his eyes drink me in, and mine do the same with him. Finally, he reaches out, hooks his arms around my shoulders, and envelops me in a tight embrace. His display of affection startles me, but my heart soars, and tears of happiness prick my eyes. This is my dream come true, and no words can express the giddy happiness and relief I feel. My arms encircle his waist and I melt into him, breathing deeply with pure contentment.
My stomach bottoms out when the stench of alcohol assaults my nose.
He’s drunk. The stink makes my face crinkle in disgust, and I swallow the impulse to gag. I need to be strong. I need to be good. I need to be perfect. Fighting against the urge to pull away, I remain locked in his arms, clutching to the positive—he’s here with me.
“Hi, Lynn,” he says to my mom.
I hear nothing but the laughter of children and the chirping of birds close-by for several tense moments. Holding my breath as the seconds tick by, I wait to hear my mom’s response. I know she must be struggling to cope with this encounter, but when I hear her burst into tears, it breaks my heart. Prying myself away from Rick’s chest, I watch my mom sprint back to the car. I stare after her with wide eyes, fighting the urge to cry. I have no idea what to do.
Do I stay and talk to my biological father, knowing I might never get this opportunity again? Or should I console my mom, knowing I can’t leave her alone right now because she’s upset?
“Go talk to your mom, Savannah. Everything will be fine,” he says, the alcohol making his speech slower.
I peek up at him to see his eyes soften. He reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and then settles his wobbly hand on my shoulder.
He gives me a soft smile and says, “I’ll call you next week when you’re back home, okay? I promise.”
My heart melts, and I tentatively smile up at him. “You sure?”
He nods and lets his arms fall to his sides, swaying a little, and I drop my arms too. “I’m sure, Savannah. I’m so happy that we were finally able to meet, and I know it’s going to work out between us. I promise I’ll call and write you. We can get to know each other, okay?”
A big smile spreads across my face, and happiness explodes inside me. I’m so thankful for him right now that I don’t think I can put my feelings into words. He’s clearly drunk, but he also understands the predicament I’m in, and he promises to call me.
I throw my arms around his thin frame and whisper, “Okay.”
Squeezing him tight once more, I turn and sprint after my mom. Despite the circumstances, I couldn’t be more hopeful.
Everything is going to be okay. Rick will be there for me, and I’ll have someone to lean on, so I can help my mom, and everything is going to be great. It’ll be wonderful.
It’ll all be worth it.
It’s been three months since Rick decided to meet me, and I was so hopeful that he’d be the one to save me from my loneliness.
But he didn’t.
One step in front of the other—it’s the only way to move forward when everything is falling down and crumbling to pieces.
Rick never called.
He never wrote.
I’m starting to come to terms that he’s not going to.
I’m not worth it.
My biological father rejected his only child.
I fight back tears threatening to spill. I swallow them down and will my eyes not to water. Starting school and returning to my norm feels like Rick’s rejection is final, and that thought twists my gut.
I’m ripped back to reality when my earbud is snatched away.
“Whatcha listening to?” asks a deep, husky voice.
My head snaps in the direction of the voice, and my eyes lock on to pale green ones. My eyes widen as I take in the cutest boy I’ve ever seen. He’s tall, muscular, and obviously older than me. His sandy blond hair falls over his forehead. I want to reach out and run my fingers through his unruly locks. I’ve had a crush on my friend Jared for a long time, but this feels different. The tingling in my body and the hammering of my heart is like nothing I’ve ever felt. His handsome, perfectly sculpted, boy-next-door looks could be used in a Gap commercial. His smile is broad, perfect, and completely disarming, and I smile timidly in response.
He thrusts his hand out. “I’m Todd.”
A blush heats my neck as I smile back, take his hand and tell him my name. But when my gaze settles back on those beautiful pale green eyes, my smile slips faintly from what I see. His eyes seem…off. I don’t know what exactly is off about them. I’ve never seen this look before, but the feeling that seeps into the pit of my stomach is…ominous.
A month later, I’m walking home from the bus stop after school with Todd. I’m basking in the calmness that settles in my heart and throughout my body. I’ve felt this way since he asked me out two weeks ago, and the feeling only seems to grow stronger, especially when he does little things to make me feel special. Even though he’s three years older, he took a chance on me. He tells me I’m pretty, and gave me my first kiss. He does other little things that make me stand up straighter and give me a bounce to my step. This is the first time in my life when I’ve felt special and wanted, and I cling to it.
I cling to him.
He reaches down and interlaces our fingers, and a thrill shoots through me. Every time he touches me, I can’t help but grin. The happiness that fills my heart and lifts my spirit is almost addictive.
I smile up at him. “How come you don’t hold my hand at school?”
His bark of laughter startles me, and my lips tip down in a frown.
“What?” I ask.
“Why would I hold your hand at school?”
His tone of voice makes me feel childish, and my nose crinkles in confusion.
“Because we’re dating?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want other people to know.”
My mouth drops open. “Why not?”
Before I realize what’s happening, I tumble forward and land on my hands and knees, scuffing them both. I look up with wide eyes and parted lips to find him staring down at me. His jaw is hard, and so are his eyes.
Despite his stare that makes my stomach churn and the disapproval seeping from him, I ask, “Did you just trip me?”
He bends over to get in my face, and the underlying anger in his tight expression sends a shiver of fear down my spine. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Savannah, and I won’t have to do things like that,” he says, his tone is as hard as his expression.
I don’t want him to be angry with me. I don’t want to lose him or the relief from the pain and happiness he gives me, so I quickly whisper, “Sorry.”
A few weeks later, I approach the lunch table.
Shannon shouts, “Happy birthday!”
I think she enjoys embarrassing me. The smile on my best friend’s face is the only thing that stops me from smacking her.
“Why don’t you say it a little louder Shan? I don’t think people across the street heard you,” I mutter as I plop in between her and Jared.
She rolls her eyes. “Smile, it’s your birthday. You’re not allowed to be grumpy.”
Jared snakes an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a half hug. He plops his usual friendly kiss on my head. “Happy birthday, beautiful. How does it feel to be fifteen, like the rest of us?”
“Feels like any other day. It kinda sucks to be born in the fall though.” I smile up at him as our hug separates.
Until I met Todd, I’d wanted Jared. He’s sweet and gorgeous with dark brown hair and matching eyes. My eyes shift and catch his newest girlfriend scowling at us. A month ago, her presence would have been a smack in the face, a reminder
that my feelings weren’t shared. But now, I have someone who does share my feelings.
Thinking about him, my eyes drift around the cafeteria to see if I can catch a glimpse of Todd. Even though we’ve officially been dating for a month, he still doesn’t want people to know that we’re together, and that is a little jab to my heart. I don’t want him to be embarrassed of me, but I try to understand. I want to make him happy, so I swallow my disappointment.
“Who are you looking for?” Alison asks.
Alison and Aaron, who are dating, are the final two in my little group of friends. Well, Shannon’s boyfriend is part of our group, too, but he goes to a different school.
I quickly bring my attention back to the table because Todd doesn’t want even my friends to know, and I don’t want my wandering eyes to spark questions. “No one.”
“Really? You looked like you were trying to find someone,” Alison pushes
“Nope,” I say. “So, are you guys going to the football game on Friday?”
I know I won’t be able to go because my dad is working, and someone needs to be home with my sisters. Mom will be there, but she’ll probably be in her bedroom—again.
The distraction works, and they chatter on with their plans for Friday night. No one is surprised when I say I can’t join them. I zone out until I notice everyone has stopped talking. When I realize that their eyes are focused behind me, I look over my shoulder, and ice seeps through my veins. Todd is standing with clenched fists and a blank stare that just barely conceals his anger. My heart starts to race, and my palms begin to sweat.
Something is wrong, very wrong.
“Savannah,” he says evenly, “can I talk to you in the hall for a minute?”
I glance back at my friends, who are wearing matching shocked expressions. When their eyes shift back to me, I see the questions forming. I stand up and mumble, “I’ll be right back.”
I start to follow Todd when Jared puts a hand on my arm, stopping me, and I turn to see his brow furrowed.
Worth It Page 1