Emerge

by Lila Felix

  I replied the only way my throat would let me. “Oh”

  There was a long pause…longer than the one that superseded this one.

  “Oh, man…I’m scaring you right? I’m telling you too much. I basically just confessed that I’m a stalker.”

  He let out a violent “whoosh” of breath and it sounded in the phone like someone blowing in a microphone.

  “No…it’s not that. I just…until just now I thought I was doing a really good job at not being noticed.”

  He laughed out loud again and it washed over my soul like a cool breeze.

  “Well, apparently it didn’t work on me.”

  I laughed, too, and my own free laughter surprised me. We talked about everything and I yawned a little too loudly when it had reached just after 10:00.

  “Hey,” he said “I’m sorry; we’ve been on the phone for hours. You probably need to get some sleep.”

  I laughed. “Me? You, you need to get some sleep.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I kinda do. But I wanted to see if you wanted to go see a movie Friday night.”

  I answered without thinking. “Yeah, what time?”

  He let out a breath and then answered, “How about I just pick you up at 6 and then we can check the movie times and then walk around until it starts?”

  “OK, I just have to ask my parents when they get home. But I’m 18 so they can’t really say ‘No’ right?” I laughed, but he didn’t.

  “Well, ask them when they get back. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? Sleep tight and make sure you lock the doors and everything.”

  “Yeah, you, too,” I hung up the phone and my blissful mood was soured.

  My hand was still on the receiver and stayed there while I thought this through. The feeling of doom creeped up my spine like a black virus.

  Are they gonna pitch a fit? They don’t even speak to me, why would they care? I’m 18, they can’t stop me though, right? I’ve always done everything they asked me to. I make good grades. Why wouldn’t they? I have to date sometime right?

  All of the sudden I heard a car in the driveway. I sped as quickly as I could to my bedroom, jumped into the bed, and pretended the best I could that I was asleep. Someone came in and put May to bed and then I heard various bathroom noises and talking and then their bedroom door closed. I slowly let out the breath that I had been holding for what seemed like an hour and let myself relax. I decided that I wouldn’t obsess about the what-ifs and focused only on this newfound feeling of wholeness and serenity.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning was routine. I got up, got dressed in an old French Quarter t shirt and jeans and of course my Chucks. Everyone was asleep and I crept out quietly and got to school.

  School was normal school. I forced myself, again, to pay attention just to stop myself from thinking about him every 5 seconds. I walked finally to Drama and there was a note on the theater door that said “End of the Year Party in Classroom”.

  I turned around and started back the way I came. I entered the classroom last and went directly to a seat in the back corner. As soon as I did Mr. Escobar was clapping his hands in a gesture to gain the class’ attention. Everyone stopped talking and faced forward. I let my eyes wander and found the pair of eyes I wished most to see. He was watching the Mr. Escobar as he flailed his hands about as he went on and on about the success of the play and how “wonderful” it was. Carlos was paying attention, but his knee was bouncing, a sign I now recognized as either boredom or nervousness. I leaned my face in my palm and tried not to be so obvious about looking at him. I commanded my eyes to stay on the flamboyant Mr. Escobar as he gushed with praises on our mediocre performances.

  He finally finished and I allowed my eyes to wander back to him. Now he was mimicking my posture but looking directly at me almost as a silent plea for me to meet his gaze. He rolled his eyes towards the teacher and it made me smile. Then he started talking to his friends while still peeking at me in perfectly timed intervals. The teacher had brought some Cokes and chips and everyone else was partaking. We were told to spend the rest of the hour as we wanted to. I pulled out a book and kicked back. I was not going to go talk to him while he was with his group of guys. Not gonna happen.

  I was thoroughly engrossed in the story when a whisp of cinnamon breeze touched me gently on my left side before he sat in the desk next to me.

  He turned my book to see the cover and smiled. “You really do love books, huh?”

  I blushed. This was it. It was real. He just confirmed what we had talked about on the phone.

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I read…um…a lot.”

  He chuckled and ran his hand around my elbow.

  “How much is a lot?” he asked.

  Why in the heck did he want to know?

  “I don’t know…about 4 or 5 books a week?”

  I was low balling on purpose. I would reveal my true nerd nature at a better time.

  “Huh,” he said. “So…did you ask your parents about Friday night?”

  I got that sinking feeling in my stomach just thinking about talking to them about it. “No, they got home late last night. I will talk to them tonight.”

  “Oh, well, ok. Maybe you will know by the time I call tonight.”

  I nodded my head “yes” and then for the rest of the period we talked about movies that we liked. We had different tastes in movies but agreed on the funny ones.

  The bell rang too quickly and he said, “Oh hey, I forgot. I’ve got to take my brother somewhere today, I can’t drive you home.”

  Relief and grief washed over me simultaneously.

  “That’s ok. It’s no big deal. I can ride the bus…always have.”

  He looked at his shoes and smiled bashfully. “Yeah, but I’d rather it be you in my car. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

  He turned to get his bag and walked away and all I could do was give him a wave, which ended up being a cross between a pageant queen and “jazz hands”. I looked at my hand like it wasn’t attached and rolled my eyes. Ugh…

  That night I played my game of “dance by the back door” for a few seconds. I wondered how I was going to bring up the subject of Carlos to my Mom and what she was going to say about it. More importantly, I wondered if I was going to be a coward, or finally stand up for myself. B

  Before I could decide, the handle jangled violently and then opened so fast I didn’t have time to think.

  “It’s about time you got home.” She spit as she said it and I winced at the sheer volume.

  I walked into the house and she slammed the door behind me.

  “So…” she said in a fake nice voice “What have you been up to while we were gone?

  I stood there dumbfounded for a second and then she screamed,

  “Answer me you stupid little shit!” The small dining room reverberated at the enraged decibels. I stuttered…

  “Nothing, I just went to school and did homework and went to work and…”

  When she talked to me like this I immediately became a different person. My entire demeanor changed I became 11 years old and scared to the point where I could hardly move, much less answer her questions. The phrase ‘scared stiff” was made just for me.

  She crept closer to me and my eyes bulged in sync with her steps. She started with a whiny voice, mocking my own…

  “And….and…brought a boy over here!”

  “No, I didn’t,” I stammered.

  “Oh, so the neighbors lied to us? They just make up random lies to get you in trouble for no reason right? Poor little Jenna. Don’t forget little girl that I know every trick you could pull on me because I’ve pulled it.”

  My name on her lips was like she was spitting up bile.

  “No, I mean, someone dropped me off…but he didn’t come in.” She clasped her chest and switched to her “nice” voice.

  “Oh…and who is this person dropping you off and how are you paying him back? Hmmmmm?”

  Tears bobbled on the edges of my bo
ttom eye lids and congregated in the corner of my eyes.

  “No,” I said as loudly as my little voice could. “He was just being nice. I think…I think he likes me.”

  The tears broke the invisible dam and flowed in chaotic patterns down my face. I don’t know why I confessed that he likes me. It was just asking for it.

  She got right in my face and said “Bullshit! Who would ever like you? Huh? I guess that’s whose number is on the caller ID, too, huh?”

  She began pacing in the living room and I briefly looked to find my May sitting silently on her hands in the living room. She looked like she was on the edge of crying as well. They were making her our audience. And my step-Dad was looking on proudly as my mother berated me as his entertainment. He cleared his throat and began to speak very slowly like he was speaking to a lower life form.

  “So you ‘think’ this boy likes you. What are you gonna do? Hmmm? You think you can just do what you want to now that you’re 18? You still live in this house under my roof that I paid for!”

  It was then that my mouth betrayed me.

  “You can’t pay for anything if you don’t even work.”

  Before I could react the back of her hand connected with my cheek bone and hit exactly the spot where it hurt the most. She’d had lots of practice. She was still screaming at me as she dragged me by the arm to my room and locked it behind me. What she said I’ll never know. After a minute or so the tears stopped and I got as comfortable as I could for the night. I tried to lie on the opposite side of the stinging to make the blood rush away from the now bruising area.

  The whole incident made me think of the time we lived in a complex of run down apartments and I had lost the key to the front door by accident. I had to go to the landlord’s apartment and ask her to open the door for me. What I didn’t know was that they charged $10 every time they did that for a tenant. The landlord left a note on the door the next day billing us for letting me in. I didn’t have money, but that didn’t mean I didn’t pay for it. I was 8 and it was the first time I can remember being backhanded. My Mom had hit and pushed before but that was the day she first hit me in the face. For some reason hitting people in the face is a lot more personal and heinous than hitting somewhere else or pushing. I later found the key in the bottom of my purse but it was too little too late.

  I don’t know how much longer it was but soon I was awoken by the phone ringing. Mom answered it and I heard her say, “No, I’m sorry; she doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.” I could feel the cracking and piercing of shards in my chest as my heart broke. And then she hung up. Her steps then neared the bedroom door, it unlocked with a “click”. The light made me blink furiously as I heard her say

  “Aww…too bad you can’t talk to him. Now get your ass to the shower and then to bed. And you can’t go to school looking like that.”

  She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

  “Too bad…he had a nice voice.” She laughed. When she laughed like that she sounded like Cruella DeVille.

  I got up and went directly to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror and my eye was puffy underneath and my cheek was purple and grayish looking. I turned on the cold water and took off my clothes and jumped in. The icy water took my breath away but then it felt fantastic on my cheek. I washed my hair and then washed my body with the sliver of soap left for me. I got out and heard them talking in their room. The house was so full of cigarette smoke that I was suddenly glad we didn’t own smoke alarms. Hell, we couldn’t even afford a whole bar of soap. I groaned as I slipped into bed and it was then that everything hit me. And this reality slap was way worse than her backhand could ever be. She told him that I don’t want to talk to him. He must think I’m such a wench. He’s never gonna speak to me again. As I fell asleep my last thought was: I will still love him…even if I can’t have him.

  The next day was spent in silence and necessary whispers. I cleaned the house as thoroughly and silently as possible while they slept. I made them a pot of coffee to avoid the wrath when they woke up. I know the drill. Keep quiet, keep busy and keep complacent. It was how I had survived since my parents divorced and my Mom remarried this tyrant and reformed her discipline methods. Yes, I was somewhat of a coward. But at least I got one good truth into their ears last night. My thoughts drifted to Carlos minute by minute. He probably noticed that I wasn’t in school that day, right? Would he try to call again? How was I going to let him go? Silent tears snaked rivers down my cheeks as I diligently worked room by room.

  They finally got up about noon and announced that they were going somewhere. I took care of May most of the day and called into work feigning sickness. I made May a supper of macaroni and cheese and a can of green beans. They still hadn’t returned at 7:30, so I cleaned up the kitchen mess and put the leftovers away and went to bed to read. I wasn’t reading more than 10 minutes when the phone rang. I looked over at May quickly to make sure she was asleep.

  I bolted out of my bed and looked at the caller ID. It was him. My heart protested against the prison of my sternum and wanted to jailbreak. I picked up the receiver so quickly that I had to play a little game of “hot potato” with it to steady my hands.

  Finally I got it to my ear and said, “Hello?”

  Carlos gasped on the other side of the phone. “Jenna…Thank God…Are you ok?”

  All my anxiety left my body at the sound of his voice.

  “Yeah, I’m..uh…ok… now.”

  “What the hell happened?” he yelled.

  I thought he was angry, so I went into a rambling of apologies.

  “I’m so sorry. My Mom found out that you brought me home and she accused me of some weird stuff and then she…um…I couldn’t talk on the phone. I know you’re angry. I DID want to talk to you.”

  I was still on my rant when he said, “Hey, hey, stop…I’m not mad. Shit…I’ve been worried sick. If you didn’t answer the phone I was 2 minutes from coming over there and knocking until someone answered. I figured something was wrong when your Mom told me that last night but then you didn’t come to school…I mean I had a bad feeling about your parents…”

  He went silent like he was remembering the day.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t come to school today. You’ll probably see why tomorrow.”

  He didn’t say anything for a while and I said, “You there?”

  He let out a breath that he was apparently holding and said, “Yeah, I’m here. Just so we’re clear…what am I gonna see tomorrow?”

  I stalled, “It’s not a big deal…I just couldn’t come today.”

  I could hear a tapping sound and imagined the noise was his foot on the floor as his knee bobbed up and down.

  “Jenna…you have no idea…thinking about why you wouldn’t talk to me yesterday and then you didn’t show up today…I mean you don’t worry about someone that much unless…”

  Every muscle in my body had tensed at hearing his words.

  “Unless what?” I whispered. Now he was whispering.

  “Unless it’s someone you love.”

  My defenses suddenly went up like metal walls in an FBI building.

  “Don’t joke about that.”

  He was silent for a few seconds too long and then he said “Jenna…I’m not joking. I know it’s fast, but I think I’ve… well since the moment I saw you through that gate. It seems like I was just biding my time until you.”

  Car lights came through the windows like warning signs reflected in the dirty glass.

  “Hey, I think they’re home. I gotta go. And, Carlos?” I said it really, really fast.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  I could hear a sound like he stood up and his chair legs pushed back against the floor. My rabbit heart fluttered in building the courage.

  “I love you more.”

  I hung up the phone quickly and pressed the “erase” button on the caller ID. I then ran on my tip toes to my room and flounced into my bed. I forced my breathing to mimic slee
p as my insides still shook from his revelation. I listened to the normal sounds of “them” as they tromped through the house noisily and then went to bed. He loved me. This guy who is sweet and kind and gorgeous, he loves…me. No, no matter what… I’m not giving him up.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning I tried to cover what was left of the already yellowing bruise on my cheek with concealer. I also wore my hair braided to the side of my face so that some of my not curly, but not straight wisps fall on that side of my face. I walked through school and remained unnoticed by most. The famous last period came around and when I entered the classroom the chairs were back in a circle formation. “Crap” I muttered under my breath. We only had about six weeks left of school. Was he seriously going to make us do another play?

  Mr. Escobar came in and laughed so loud that I ducked my head in response. He pointed his trigger finger at everyone and imaginary shot them one by one and said “Gotcha” I rolled my eyes. He told us that for the rest of the semester we could use the period as a study hall.

  I made my way to the corner acting like I didn’t know who was already there waiting for me. I looked up in false horror.

  “Hey, you’re in my seat,” I said. When did I get so cheeky and brave?

  He laughed that soul soothing laugh and moved to the next seat.

  “I was warming it up for you.” I smiled at him and laughed back.

  He turned his chair so that it was face to face with my desk and touching each other. He raised his hand in the air slowly, pulled back and started again. He touched my face with the backs of his fingers so gently I barely even felt it. Then he turned his hand to touch my bruise with the pads of his fingers. They were rough and calloused but felt like heaven, warm heaven.

  “Is this why you couldn’t come to school?”

  I nodded and he put his hands on the desk and clenched and unclenched them repeatedly. His knee was jerking furiously again.