She finally stopped to catch her breath. I watched her hold her stomach with her hand.
“I’m gonna stop talking now,” she said, making herself stop.
Finally, she sat down on the bed, laying down on her side and tucking her knees up with her eyes shut. Sometimes she moved like her entire body hurt. This was one of those times.
I didn't know what to say. I couldn't think past how messed up my head was in that moment. I knew one thing and I hoped that words would follow the idea.
“I love you even more when you give me those long answers to short questions. We are different and complicated. It’s painful even when it's good because it's so much input. So, we should be scared but neither of us are letting this go ever.”
She didn’t speak, she just laid there with closed eyes and she quietly breathed.
I stared down at her, unsure of how to proceed.
“You always want me to say way more than I should,” she barely spoke.
“Why is it more? I don’t think those were things you shouldn’t say. I need to know what you’re thinking.”
“I told you what I was thinking. I told you right away. And my elaboration on it all probably just sent your mind to all sorts of other places that weren’t relevant and might actually be harmful. I know you’re probably thinking things I never meant for you to think. Sometimes I think it’s smart for me to say less, Avery. That’s all. But when you ask me to speak I have to. I always want to do what you want me to do.”
“I’m thinking I’m glad you told me all that. I’m not thinking whatever it is you think I am.”
“That’s a very PC answer, Avery,” she grumbled. “I know you’re more complicated than that. Please don’t lie.”
“How can I lie when I don’t even know what you think I’m thinking. I just know it’s negative and I’m not thinking anything like that.” I pushed the heel of my hand into my temple. “Oh God, this conversation is just confusing now.” I wished I was back on the floor with the solid ground under my back.
“Exactly,” she said. “And it didn’t have to be.”
“So, what am I supposed to do now? Never ask you what you’re thinking or what you want?”
“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “That’s all. I’m just sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that. It wasn’t necessary and I think I knew that but I let myself try to explain and it was stupid. I just got so frustrated because you kept telling me you understood but then you would ask me what specifically it was that made me feel like this. And I kept trying to tell you that it wasn’t something specific. But you didn’t believe me. At one point my choices were: allow Avery to think this is all about one little thing or attempt to tell Avery exactly how you’re feeling when how you’re feeling is literally impossible to describe and a lot of it will fade. What would you do then? I had to run with option two.”
My head rose and I blinked at her. “Now, see.. I get that perfectly.”
“Yeah but was it worth it? Was it worth stressing out over when it would’ve just passed in time anyway if we had done anything else?”
“Depends.” I shrugged a shoulder. “On if it returned and how often it did.”
We couldn’t keep having the same conversation but I wasn’t going to just ignore it when she felt bad or confused. I was a problem solver and to stop that compulsion I would have to rewire my brain. I could handle it and take it down a notch but it was going to require a lot of self-policing.
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just move on. Okay?” I asked.
“I’m not always going to have my shit together Avery. And, frankly, I don’t know if I’ve had my shit together at all with you. I think you’re just the only person I’ve ever communicated like this to and I’m definitely not good at it.”
“But that’s what I’m saying. If we don’t start talking these things out it will never get easier and it will never change. I don’t have an issue with the conversation we’re having. I think it’s good.”
I wanted her to see that talking like this was necessary and that we would both get used to it in time. She may not be able to yet. It was impossible to tell right now.
“I don’t have my shit together either. You know that. That’s what made me scared at first. I didn’t want to break you but it was dumb to not risk for this. It’s worth it.”
“Sometimes you act like you have your shit together. Like right now,” she laughed. “It’s very frustrating… I’ll be falling apart and you’ll just be acting like it’s not happening or like it’s no big deal. Okay, yeah, I hate this, can we do something? I don’t like me today.” She stood up.
“I’m acting like this because I want to be here for you. I’m putting my shit aside, trying to be good. I know you probably won’t like that but it’s true. I’m trying to learn how to be in a relationship.”
I closed my eyes and just breathed for a few beats, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Okay, what do you want to do? We could drive somewhere or ….. I don’t know.”
“I want you to be yourself Avery. I don’t want you to be trying with me. I don’t want you to be good.” She was so frustrated. “Do you think that’s what I want? For you to be polished and perfect all the time? I like you real. I like you messy. You’re already perfect that way. You’re perfect as you already are. When you’re trying it lets me know I’m fucking up.”
She walked to my closet and opened the door and sat down.
I watched her reach in and start to dig through my things.
“Where’s your journal?” She asked. “I want to read your journal. We’re already fighting. May as well find a real reason.” When she walked now I could see her body was shaky. Talking about important things with me stressed her out.
I laughed, not even following her. “You really want to read it?” She kept tossing stuff aside and looking in boxes. “It’s not in there.”
“Of course I want to read it,” she grumbled. “I love you. I want to know you. That’s what this is about. I’m sick of this shit. I’m sick of fighting every time I learn one thing I should’ve already known.”
I got up and walked to my bookshelf. Among all of the plays and biographies there was a copy of The Portable Dorothy Parker in hardback, only it wasn’t what it appeared to be. I handed the book to her and she gave me a look.
“Open it.”
She did and inside was not Dorothy Parker but my journal, pages and pages of my thoughts and feelings written down in the moment. I stood strong, trying not to show the fear and dread that was drowning me. “Enjoy.” I couldn’t stay here while she read that. I just walked out of the room, going down the hall to the bathroom and shutting the door.
I collapsed to the floor and hugged the toilet, feeling sick. She was going to see the page I hated most. It would probably be one of the only things that would stay with her in detail from that book.
Chapter Twenty
Olivia
I’d worked myself up into a monster. Avery wasn’t listening to me, she just wasn’t. More than anything else THAT was frustrating.
I threw myself down onto her floor and began to search for anything to distract myself with. I needed to calm down and stop inflicting my bullshit onto her. I’d never had this much attention from anyone before and my cracks were really starting to show. All that darkness inside of me seeping out.
When I asked for her journal she laughed. She was so calm, it was driving me up the wall.
Why did she do this?! Why did she always do this?! No matter what we talked about I always ended up feeling like a freak and a crazy person when we fell into that hazy subject of our differing pasts.
She would bring these things up and then pretend they were no big deal. Then she’d push me to tell her how I felt. After that I’m the asshole. I’m the asshole EVERY TIME!
And right now, I’m the asshole on the ground being weird as she walks out of sight and leaves me all alone.
WHAT THE HELL?!
I took a deep breath in and open
ed the book in my lap.
I couldn’t even read one page before I knew it wasn’t right.
Avery was being normal and I was being weird. It was simple.
What if she didn’t want me to read it?
She left the room.
Why did she leave?
None of this was fair.
I got up off the floor and walked out to find her.
I searched the landing but didn’t see her so I took the stairs down and checked the rooms one-by-one.
Every second that went by without me seeing her freaked me out.
I looked in the backyard, the wind hitting me and calming me down.
I turned to go back up and when I got to the landing I called for her, worried.
“Avery?” I didn’t like thinking I’d broken her. Even if she had broken me. I still didn’t like it. An eye for an eye with us would never ever be my motto. I hated how I made her feel. I hated that I could work her up enough to stress her out and make her physically unable to be near me.
I clutched at my stomach and waited silently for any sort of sign that she hadn’t left me alone in her house.
“I’m in the bathroom.” I heard her muffled voice through the door.
I immediately deflated, pushing the door open and walking inside to the sight of her curled up on the ground.
“Shit,” I said, squatting down and dropping the journal to hold at her back. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she looked up at me. “Did you read any of it?”
“Avery… No,” I said. “You left the room. Of course I didn’t read it… And then I thought you’d left me here alone. ‘Cause I’m that horrible and I deserve that.”
‘No, you’re not,” she took the book out of my hands. “You’re perfect. You want to see what’s fucking horrible?” She got up, reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me back down the hall to her room. When we got inside she sat me down on the bed. Her hands were gentle but her eyes were wild, like she was burning inside.
She flipped through the journal until she found some certain pages and then she shoved the book back into my hands. The edges of the pages flapped in my face as she handed it to me. “This is horrible. This is what you want to know about.”
“Avery, I really don’t have to read anything, really. I was just flipping out and it was rude of me and your calm was setting me off. I don’t want to read anything you’re not ready for me to read, really.” She tried to push the book back at me.
“Stop.” She wouldn’t take the book back. “Read it. I’ll never be able to say some of that out loud. I’m sorry I left. I just didn’t want to see your face when you saw what I am.”
Okay… That fucking scared me…
“Okay,” I said, taking the book back with trepidation. I held onto the book with both hands and let myself read the passage she was scared to have me read.
I haven’t written in here for a long time because I hate myself, not in a teen angst way but in a: it’s shocking that I’m still alive way. Now, I just know I can’t tell anyone about this so I have to write it down.
It started off fine. He helped out with the Drama productions. He would stop and talk to me, stare at me across the stage while I was talking to my friends. I thought he was hot but I didn’t fawn over him like the other girls did. They talked endlessly about how cute and smart he was. I couldn’t have given a fuck who he was or what he was but it changed.
Then one day he put his hand on mine. He patted it and then left it there. Innocuous. Innocent. Then he turned it over and started to tell me all the things that fortune tellers could see in the lines of your hand. I liked how it felt to have him pay attention to me. He was different. He was a man. Not like the boys in my classes.
I cared what he thought. So, different. When he told me why he liked me better than the others it wasn’t because I was hot or I had a good body. He told me I was smart and beyond what the other girls were in maturity. He told me we shared something special.
Then his hand slid up my arm and he looked into my eyes. I saw that he wanted me. He saw something in me no one else had. Turns out he saw that I was vulnerable. He knew he could use me with just a little effort. I would believe him when he told me all the bullshiit.
He spent a lot of time building a relationship with me so, that when he had me tied to his wall, touching me in ways that hurt I didn’t say a word. He loved it. Rewarded me with soft touches in between the painful ones. It took time to get to that point.
First, there were weekends that he had me over to his house. We had sex, a lot of sex. That was fine. It wasn’t mind blowing. I didn’t see stars or fireworks but he liked me and paid attention to me. No one missed me at home and I didn’t want to be there, so I started to see him even more.
After awhile it started at school. He would take me to an empty supply closet on his free period after he got me out of class with a note. He told me what an amazing person I was and that he was in love with me. I let him because by that point my logic was twisted and gone. I was his.
So, when he wanted sex, and I didn’t, I let him do it anyway. That seemed to excite him more. He liked it, telling me to pretend that I was just a girl he’d happened upon. Instead of stopping it I just kept going back. It won’t make sense to anyone who hasn’t been there. You can’t say anything. There’s shame and self-hatred and they’ve got you so twisted up that you don’t want to hurt them even if they’re hurting you.
So, I let him try his fucked up desires out on me. All the weird stuff. I kept going to his house. I wasn’t worth anything else. He was right to make me dirty. I deserved it. I’m a bad person. Adam died and part of me was happy that I didn’t have to be second best anymore. I thought since he was gone Dad wouldn’t ignore me anymore but he did. He left. I deserved that and I deserved to be tortured. Maybe a lot of it could be explained by my crazy.
Mom snuck me to a doctor once. That’s how I ended up on meds. The wrong ones. So, I swore I’d never take any again. I could control myself. So, I got hyper for days and then crashed for a month. So, I could attract people but not care about any of them.
They deserved it too. Sometimes I don’t know what’s wrong and what’s right. I know I don’t have anyone, anything. Ben, that’s the only person who has any knowledge of me and that’s why I don’t tell anyone. That and I don’t want him to lose his job. Stupid.
I WON’T HELP MYSELF. I let it happen. Cycles, there are always cycles of lucid thought and then I go down into the dark where I drown in pain and I want it, and like it, because I feel like this is what it means to be alive. No joy. Only pain. I’m caught on his edges, being cut by every damn one. Dying inside and not showing it to anyone.
Halfway through reading I know I stopped breathing.
Somewhere along the line I’d started to shake again and tears dropped from my eyes.
I blinked awkwardly. I didn’t want her to know.
“Oh Avery…” I breathed. I felt almost like Avery must’ve felt that day at the lake: cold, broken, shards of phantom ice in my throat making it impossible to speak.
“Come ‘ere,” I said, leaning over and hugging her.
I couldn’t stop myself crying. The tears rushed me but this wasn’t like other times.
It wasn’t a light cry or a frustrated cry. When I cried now it was because I was so sad I really couldn’t think beyond knowing just that.
“I’m sorry,” I said, crying onto her and holding her tight. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” I muttered, not that it mattered much, not that I could change a thing or go back in time and help her and stop it.
My mind was somewhere else and I hated it.
Her words from that entry kept cutting me inside.
I couldn’t stop thinking of her then, what she must’ve felt like, before she knew me.
I remembered her back at the car, slamming her fists on the wheel on that very first day.
Why me?
She’d asked him.
At the time
I thought that was about her not feeling good enough.
I was so fucking wrong.
“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “I’m so stupid.”
I just wanted to be able to go back and stop it all from happening, end it all. If I had a time machine that’s all I’d do. The only thing in my life. Just one thing. Just this.
“You’re not stupid,” she said, wrapping her arms around me. “I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t feel like I deserve sympathy or anyone to be sorry. Part of me liked that stuff. Most of me hated it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. It was all I could say. I didn’t know what else to say. “You deserve all kinds of things. You deserve good things and love. You always did, always. I can’t believe-” My throat cut me off. It was too sharp and jagged. I couldn’t make words.
“I have good things. I have love,” she sighed.
“But you never-” I said, my throat cutting me off again. “You never deserved that. What he did. I hate him,” I cried, realizing it. “I hate him. I want to kill him.” I realized now I’d totally lost myself.
“It’s okay.” She tried to soothe me and I had no idea how she was so calm about it. “He never did anything I didn’t let him do until the lodge.”
“But it wasn’t right,” I cried. “He used you. He hurt you. He didn’t do anything else. All he did was hurt you. Avery-” I choked.
How could I ever imagine it had been that bad? There was no way I could know.
Why didn’t she tell me?
Why was Ben free?
Why didn’t we call the police?!
She had a witness, a good one.
What was I supposed to do now with this? Other than hate it and hate it and hate it?!
Paper Dolls [Book Two] Page 28