Forever Changed

by Tiffany King

“It seems like forever truthfully.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there more during your bad months,” he said, looking remorseful.

  “Hey, don’t sweat it. You had your own drama going on.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I don’t like being the kind of friend that leaves their friends high and dry.”

  “It’s not like I was much better. Hell, you had to spell it out to me that you were gay,” I said quietly so no one could here. “How’s that for being observant?”

  “Okay, so we’re even,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

  “Even,” I said, giving him a quick hug before we parted ways. “I’ll see you Wednesday,” I promised as I picked up my pace.

  Smokeville was empty except for the normal stoners you would expect to find there. With no time for disappointment, I continued my search until the bell rang for fifth period. For the rest of the day, I looked for Maddon in between classes with no luck. I debated heading over to Drake’s when school let out in case he was there, but I didn’t want to apologize in front of an audience in case he didn’t accept my apology.

  Disappointed, I steered my car home.

  I was pissed to say the least as I squealed out of the school parking lot.

  I picked up my phone and dialed Drake. “Hey, you want to skip school and hang out today?” I asked.

  “Sure, normal place?”

  “Yep,” I answered.

  “See you in ten.”

  I disconnected without saying goodbye. I cranked the music to drown out the words taunting my head.

  I got to Drake’s barn first and parked my car on the far side of the building where his parents were least likely to see it if they showed up for some reason. I was already inside waiting with a beer in my hand by the time he showed up.

  “What’s going on?” Drake said, stepping into the building, eyeing the beer in my hand. He raised his eyebrows. “It must be big if you’re thinking about breaking your sobriety pact.”

  “You were right about Kassandra,” I said, turning the can around in my hand, debating whether I should open it.

  “Dude, seriously? Well shit, I really liked her,” Drake said, sitting on the second stool.

  “Yeah, so did I.”

  “So, what happened?” Drake asked, watching my inner battle with the beverage in my hand.

  “One, her mom found out, and then all shit hit the fan when Kassandra found out I’m speaking at the hearing tomorrow,” I said.

  He nodded his head. He wasn’t surprised by the news since we had discussed it in great detail when Kassandra was on vacation with her family.

  “I guess the prosecutor had some thick folder on me with all my past bogus charges in it.”

  “Are you shitting me?” he asked.

  “Nope."

  “Did you explain it all to Kass?”

  “I did, but I was pissed that she believed the lies without checking with me first,” I said, chucking the beer in my hand as the anger in me flared up again. Drake and I watched as it exploded satisfyingly against the wall.

  “Cool…” Drake started to say as a brunette-colored head peered in through the door.

  “Is that anyway to greet a friend?” Carrie asked, dragging her beach chair in behind her.

  “Dude, you called her?” I asked a sheepish looking Drake.

  “I wasn’t sure what the issue was, and we normally do this stuff together,” Drake said, shrugging his shoulders.

  “But she’s a chick,” I said.

  “Wow, really? I forgot,” Carrie grumbled, sinking down in her chair.

  “No offense. I just don’t know if a chick will get where I’m coming from on this,” I tried to explain.

  “Because the male species is just so complicated,” she said dryly.

  “No, because chicks normally stick together on this stuff,” I said.

  “Well, now that you mention it. Wait, let me explain,” she said, holding up her hand to warn off my indignant protests. “I heard you say you’re surprised Kass didn’t come to you first to hear your explanation on the charges. Have you put yourself in her shoes? You come home to find out not only that your mom knows that you’ve secretly been seeing the son of the man that murdered your father, but that that same guy has a record.”

  “Damn, girl, how long were you eavesdropping?” Drake asked admiringly.

  “Well, I heard a big majority of their fight this morning. I was in the bathroom when they started fighting and felt awkward interrupting,” she said sheepishly. “Anyway, not that I’m on her side, Maddon, I’m just saying, I see her side of it too, and I know the whole situation must be tearing her up inside. It’s her family, you know?” she asked, looking at me earnestly. “We know your family life sucked major ass before this, but can you see her side a little bit?”

  I digested her words for a minute.

  “You need another beer to throw?” Drake joked, making me smile for the first time in days. Carrie let out a giggle, eyeing the beer-drenched mess behind her.

  “If you throw another drink, can it be a root beer, because seriously, beer smells like pee,” she said, wrinkling up her nose.

  “Smell a lot of pee, do ya, Slim Jim?” Drake teased.

  I tuned out their joking as I thought about Kassandra and the hurt expression on her face before I had stomped away.

  I had lied about one thing. I had promised myself I would never hurt her.

  Mom and Megan were waiting for me in the kitchen when I got home from school. Mom was busy dicing tomatoes on the cutting board while Megan colored at the island. “Hey, sweetie, how did it go? Did you see Maddon?”

  “Yeah, I saw him,” I said, draping my hoodie over the back of the barstool next to where Megan was coloring. “Hey, Peanut, how was school?” I asked, ruffling her hair.

  She answered with a smile.

  “How did it go?” Mom asked, scooping up the discarded tomato ends to drop in the disposal.

  I grabbed the last remaining few and added them to the ones already in the drain. I left the water running while I turned to my mom. “It was awful, but I’m going to fix the situation tomorrow,” I said, meeting her eyes.

  “What do you mean awful, and what are you going to fix?”

  “I’m going to fix the hurt I caused him. I took things for face value without going to the source first,” I said.

  “Oh, come on, sweetie, he’s just feeding you more lies,” she said, looking concerned.

  “No Mom, Maddon doesn’t lie,” I said, louder than I intended. “If anyone lies, it’s me. I lied to Daddy about my car running bad, and he died because of it. I lied to Maddon because I told him I trusted him and yet, I turned on him the first chance I got,” I said, angrily swiping at a tear that escaped my eye.

  “Oh, honey,” Mom said, approaching me.

  I turned my back on her and blindly switched on the disposal as more tears leaked from my eyes. A strange grinding noise came from the disposal and I stuck my hand in without thinking. My hand was barely inside the disposal when a weird pressure spiraled around my palm. Confused, I pulled my hand out as blood poured from my palm, flowing to white ceramic tile at my feet.

  “Oh my God,” Mom said, scooping a hand towel off the counter as blood dripped down my arm onto my clothes. Mom wrapped the towel around my hand and shut off the disposal. “We need to get to the hospital,” Mom said as my blood soaked through the towel.

  I turned to face Megan and saw her staring at the bloody towel and the blood on my shirt. She opened her mouth and for the first time in months she started screaming.

  I turned to Mom bewildered as I began to feel dizzy. “Mom, I don’t feel very good,” I said as darkness closed in on me.

  I woke a few minutes later on the floor of the kitchen with my mom beside me, holding my injured hand up over my heart. Megan was still screaming like a banshee and in my foggy brain I couldn’t understand why my mom didn’t make her stop.

  “The ambulance is on its way,” Mom
said, when she saw my eyes open.

  I nodded, cutting my eyes at Megan and back at Mom who was watching Megan helplessly. “I’m okay Mom. Help her,” I said as my brain began to clear a little.

  “I have to hold your hand up,” she said, never taking her eyes off of Megan.

  “What in the blazes is all the ruckus in here?” Mrs. Miller asked, coming in the backdoor without knocking.

  “Kass cut her hand and Megan needs me,” Mom said tersely.

  “Well, honey child, what are you waiting for? I got Kass here. You go attend your baby,” she said, taking my injured arm in her spry hands and holding it up.

  “They said to hold it up over her heart,” Mom said, getting up to kneel in front of Megan who was now making a loud moaning noise.

  “She tells me that like I wasn’t a field nurse for thirty years,” Mrs. Miller grumbled to me.

  We both watched as Mom took Megan who was now wailing into her arms. Mom rocked her in her arms, soothing her. “She’s okay, Peanut, she just cut her hand. They’ll have her fixed up and good as new,” she said over and over again, stroking Megan’s hair as she continued to wail.

  I could hear the sirens in the background and watched in a daze as the saturated towel above me began to drip onto my chest. I closed my eyes as the dizziness assaulted me again. The next time I opened my eyes, our kitchen was swarming with paramedics and firemen. I could hear Mom explaining what had happened as they checked my vitals and began loading me up on a gurney. I saw one of the firemen pull the offending knife out of the garbage disposal.

  A few of the paramedics crowded around Mom and Megan as Mom explained she thought Megan was in shock. She mentioned the accident Megan had been in with my dad and they started checking Megan over while she still clutched my mom. It was weird to hear her finally making noise after so many months of silence.

  They loaded us all up in the ambulance as Mrs. Miller promised Mom she’d clean up the mess before we got home, making her point clear when she shot a look at Megan.

  The paramedics shielded me from Megan's view when she started chanting, “Too much blood,” in a gasping voice.

  I tried to remain focused, but the ride and my dizziness lulled me in and out of sleep.

  Several hours later, Megan and I were bundled up in the backseat of Mrs. Miller’s minivan. I was the proud owner of thirty-three stitches on the palm of my hand where the paring knife had done a good job of making my palm resemble sushi. Megan was sleeping since they gave her a mild sedative in the hospital. Mom shocked me by saying that Megan had held an entire conversation with her once the sedative began to relax her.

  Mom carried Megan up to her own bed while I lethargically climbed the stairs to my room. Mom joined me a few minutes later and helped me change into pajamas.

  “This is going to be a pain,” I said, trying not to bump my hand that was starting to let me know it was not pleased with me as the painkillers began to wear off.

  “Literally or figuratively?” Mom asked, making me laugh.

  “Both,” I said, climbing under my covers that she held up for me.

  “Do you think she freaked out like that because she was stuck in the car with Dad and all that blood?” I finally asked the question we had been avoiding.

  She sighed and sat on the edge of my bed. “I think so, but I hardly remember anything from that day.”

  “Not me, I remember it vividly,” I admitted.

  “You do?” she asked, laying down on the other pillow next to me and holding on to my uninjured hand.

  “Yeah, you called me during third period, telling me there had been an accident. Mrs. Lewis called in an aide and drove me to the hospital herself. Dad was in surgery when I got there and Megan was in the E.R. sitting on a gurney covered in Dad’s blood waiting for the doctor to put a cast on her arm.”

  “Where was I?” Mom asked in a low voice.

  “You were in the chapel praying,” I reminded her. “I held Megan’s hand as they set her arm and then put a cast on it. It didn’t dawn on me until later that she didn’t so much as make a peep when he set her arm. Once her arm was set and casted, I helped her take off her blood-covered leotard and helped her into pajamas the hospital gave us. Grandma and Donna got there as I was carrying her through the halls looking for you. I handed her off to them so I could come find you. The surgeon that worked on Daddy found you at the same time I did,” I said in a quiet voice.

  “I left you to deal with all of that,” Mom said in a shaky voice.

  “It was the worst day of our lives,” I said, letting her know that I understood we all handled grief differently.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Mom. I’m just glad we finally got to talk about that day,” I said.

  “You said something earlier in the kitchen that upset me,” mom said.

  “Oh, don’t remind me,” I said, remembering my rant.

  “No, this is something we need to discuss. You said your father’s death was your fault. Honey, that’s not true. We knew nothing was wrong with your car. Your dad figured a tune-up wouldn’t hurt since you had been driving it for awhile.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Really,” she said, squeezing my hand.

  “Thank goodness,” I said as the pain killers took affect and I drifted to sleep, exhausted from my evening.

  I woke several hours later to a throbbing hand and a small body squeezing in between Mom and me.

  “Hey, Peanut,” I said, pulling her close to me.

  “You didn’t die,” she said in the sweetest voice I had been missing for months.

  “No, Peanut, I didn’t die. Just a boo-boo,” I said, holding my hand up so she could see my gauze-wrapped hand in the moonlight that was streaming through my window.

  “Just like me?” she asked.

  “Yep, just like that,” I said, giving her a squeeze. “I love you, Peanut.”

  “I luz you too, Kass Kass,” she said, drifting off to sleep.

  “Do you need more painkillers?” Mom asked from the other side of my bed.

  “Do you mind?” I asked as my hand blazed out of control.

  “Not at all,” she said, climbing out of my bed and retrieving my pain pills off my dresser where I had left them. She shook out one and handed it to me with a bottle of water.

  I took it gratefully, mumbled my thanks and promptly fell back to sleep.

  ***

  The next morning I woke to my hand once more on fire. I looked over and found Mom was already awake. “What do we do with Peanut today?” I asked quietly, taking care not to wake her up. The original plan was to send her to school, but the craziness of the night put a wrench in that idea.

  “I asked Mrs. Miller if she could watch her while we’re at the courthouse,” Mom answered, standing up and stretching. “Do you need another pain pill?”

  I shook my head no. “I’d rather not. They make me sleepy and I want all my wits about me today.”

  “You trust him?” she inquired, finally asking the question we had been avoiding.

  “With every fiber in me,” I said.

  She nodded and left my room.

  Anxiety raced through me as my moment to step up to the stand approached. I knew when Kass and her mom arrived because I could hear the sympathetic murmurings of the crowd around me. I saw them take the seats behind the prosecutor out of the corner of my eye, but I kept my eyes straight-forward, focusing on the task at hand.

  The lawyer's words seemed like mumbo jumbo as I remained fixated on the back of my father’s head in front of me. He greeted me like we shared the closest of father-son relationships when I first arrived, but my standoffish attitude had his lawyer encouraging him to turn back around.

  My aunt, who was sitting beside me, squeezed my hand reassuringly as they called my name. She supported my decision to speak today and lent the moral support I needed. I walked to the stand with lead in my legs. I placed my hand on the Bible and repeated the
words that were asked of me.

  "Yes, I swear to tell the whole truth, so help me God."

  And that is exactly what I did. I recounted every beating I had ever taken, every drink my father took, and every drug he had ever tried. The defense attorney tried to interject when he realized I wasn’t here for my father. From the moment I began talking, I spoke to only two individuals in the room, Kassandra and her mom. This was my apology to them. I had kept quiet my entire life, just trying to get by to prove I was nothing like the person who was on trial. This was my chance to finally stand up for myself.

  My words brought tears to their eyes that flowed freely down their cheeks and I was glad for the closure I was giving them.

  My father sat in shocked silence as I continued in great detail. Hearing the truth was a tough pill to swallow when you had been drunk for the last eighteen years.

  I felt pity for him, he was my father after all, but I kept my eyes firmly on Kass and her mom. This was what was right, this would set them free.

  Epilogue

  We floated along in our canoe together with me tucked securely between Maddon’s legs as he rowed us effortlessly through the water. The springs had become our place to continue to get to know each other more.

  “So, Megan says hi by the way,” I remembered, knowing if I forgot to tell him, I wouldn't hear the end of it from her.

  “Cute, tell her I said hey back," he said, setting the oars in the canoe by our legs so he could wrap his arms around my waist.

  “It's funny, she spent months not saying a word, and now she won't shut up," I laughed.

  "She cracks me up," he said as he used his finger to trace my scar.

  “I still can’t believe you didn’t turn off the disposal before you stuck your hand in there,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Are we going to talk about this every time we hold hands? Besides, I was preoccupied defending your honor,” I said.

  “Thirty-three stitches,” he said.

  “I know, I felt every one of them,” I said as my hand began to burn in response.

  “I’m sorry you hurt yourself, babe,” he said, nuzzling my neck which proved to be an excellent pain reliever.