“I need closure with Sean, and I’m going to see him in prison tomorrow morning before my psychology class.”
A low growl makes me look back at my parents. My father is red with anger ready to explode. The growl comes from deep within his chest while my mother isn’t blinking or crying. She’s stunned.
“You’re not ever going near that punk again. Ever. Do you hear me?” he yells, his voice echoing in the deserted parking lot, freezing me on my spot. I don’t dare say another word.
He takes the suitcases and without waiting for us starts walking toward the exit leading to the hotel lobby. After a good five seconds, I come back to life and follow him, my mother on my heels. Her little heels are making way too much noise as a headache is quickly taking residence in my temples, beginning to beat a steady rhythm.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I barely pay attention to what is happening around me until I’m alone again with my parents in their small hotel room with a large king size bed that takes up most of the space.
I look around at the white carpet, white comforter and grey walls until there’s nothing else to look at besides my parents who are very quiet, but intently looking at me. I know they’re expecting an explanation that would solve everything and reassure them, but in all of this mess, there’s no good explanation or well-thought out words I could or should say to them. I’m navigating in dark and muddy waters, never sure if what I’m doing is right or if it’s going to make everything harder for me and the others around me. I don’t know. I know nothing, and it’s frustrating, frightening and maddening for me.
“You know,” I sigh and will myself not to cry, “I’m not asking for your understanding, but I’m asking for your support.”
“How can we support you when you’re telling us that you want to see him? He destroyed you!” my mother replies, her voice harder than I expected coming from her.
I gasp and take a step away from them, a little closer to the door. “I’m still standing, Mom.” I wave at myself with jerky movement. “I’m getting better.”
“So much better that you break up with the man you’re in love with and who loves you back just because you think it’s better for him. I don’t really see the logic there.”
My father puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, calming her. She’s breathing fast, but she nods and turns around, walking to the window. She’s gazing outside, but I’m not sure she’s really seeing anything that’s out there.
“Did you discuss this with your therapist?” my father asks, startling me.
I nod and shrug. “He told me that victims often need to see their aggressor in order to have real closure and move on. It’s a normal step, but a painful one.” I leave out the part where he’s the one mentioning it in the first place just after admitting somewhere between the lines that he has a crush on me. No need to voice that, I already know they’d ask me to change psychologists. I’m not ready to begin all over again with someone else.
He shakes his head, defeated. His eyes lose the light of fight in them, and he nods. Seeing my dad ceasing all fight so fast is tugging at my heart. He’s out of his depth, and he doesn’t know how to protect me anymore. I hate to see this strong man so fragile because of me. No, because of Sean. It’s because of Sean.
“What do you need from us?” he asks me, his voice broken and choked as he looks down at the white carpet, hiding the tears I can hear in his voice.
“You’re going to let her do this?” My mother walks back to him, her brown eyes narrowing on him. Her whole body is tensed like a bow.
“She’s an adult, and she knows better than us what she needs.”
“She’s suffering! How could she know what is best for her?” she replies even louder than before.
I hug myself, feeling like a little girl witnessing her parents fighting. But I’m not a little girl, and they’re fighting because of me. And something tells me it’s not the first time.
“We saw nothing! She was with us, and we saw nothing for YEARS!” he yells so loudly that I gasp, and my mother takes a step back. His fists are closed, his shoulders are tense and his eyes are hard on my mother. “We saw nothing, so the least we can do is to be there for her now even if we don’t agree with her.”
Silence stretches between us. And then my phone beeps in my jeans. I retrieve it and see a text from Derek.
Derek: Where are you?
I frown, but type quickly a reply, explaining that I’m with my parents. I put it back in my pocket.
“You should go, Skye,” my mother says, forcing a little smile through her silent tears messing up her light make up. “I need to take a nap, and your father and I need to talk a little. Let’s meet tonight for dinner.”
I nod, but don’t feel comfortable enough to walk to them and hug them. I knew they would be pained to hear that I want and need to see Sean, but I never imagined it would build up a concrete wall between us. I wave at them and walk out of the room, and I let the shaking take hold of me as I wait for the elevator.
***
DUKE
I watch her park Kate’s car, her face a cold mask and her eyes glazed over from pain and something I can’t grasp. Just seeing her, even from afar, makes me long for her even more. I miss having her in my arms, smelling her or even listening to her soft breathing.
She brushes her hair away from her face and closes her eyes, as if allowing the pain to overwhelm her for a few seconds. Her strength is inspiring. I can’t be like her, cutting it off to function as close to normal as possible. I just can’t. When I’m in pain, in the fucking pit of Hell like I’m in right now, I can’t put on a mask and hide it. I feel everything from my skin to my blood cells. That pain is ingrained in me, just like she is. I can’t break it off, get rid of it or fake it until I’m truly better.
Instead, all I think about is getting drunk or high and numb myself to make sure that she’s still making progress. I’d tread a hundred tortures and pains if that means she’s happy and doing better.
Skye is my life, and even if I’m mad at her, even if I’m in fucking Hell, I love her too much to let her go completely. I don’t want to let her go.
*
SKYE
I park the car in a parking space in front of the dorms and turn off the car. I welcome the silence as my raging headache is driving me nuts along with the ache in my heart tearing even deeper. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can feel the oversized sweater brushing my skin with the movements of my chest, the hot leather through my jeans, the soft steering wheel under my fingertips, and I focus on nothing else. I just feel with my skin and think about nothing else just for a full minute. I’m taking a break for a full minute, while I still can.
But soon I picture Duke behind my closed eyes with his long dark hair that needs a haircut, his perfect nose, his well-defined lips that scream “kiss me” and his goattee. I love to feel his facial hair on my skin when he kisses me and trails sensuous open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and down my neck. I shiver and open my eyes. A nervous laugh breaks free from my lips, but I’m not in a happy mood. I’m just … lost I guess. As lost or maybe more than I was before I started my therapy.
I open the car door and step out before locking the car, double-checking before walking toward the building. It’d be my luck to have someone stealing Kate’s car after I used it. I grab my student ID in my purse dangling from my left shoulder, bumping into my hip every step I make. I pass it into the reader thingy and open the door, not even looking behind me if someone wants to walk inside. I barely register the sound of someone hitting the door as it’s closing just in front of him. I climb the stairs slowly, not very fond of the old elevator that traps more often the students than brings them to their destination.
I check the time on my phone and read again the text message from Derek. I don’t understand why he asked me where I was because if he wanted something, he would have answered my text, which he didn’t.
Maybe it’s about Duke. Maybe there’s somethin
g wrong with him again. My blood rushes to my head suddenly, warming my cheeks, but not with embarrassment. I take my phone and don’t think twice before dialing Derek’s number. I don’t want to spend the whole day worrying when it’s easy to have the bottom line.
“Derek?” I call out as he answers without saying a word, creeping me out even more.
“It’s … me.”
I stop in the middle of the last flight of stairs, my fingers clawing at my phone. I let my backpack fall from my right shoulder. It lands on my foot, but I don’t even look down. The first thing that comes to my mind as my brain comes back to life is, What is Duke doing with Derek’s phone? before I sit down on the stairs, not even checking to see if it was clean. The last time Kate sat here, an overpriced dress was ruined because of some disgusting gum.
“You texted me?” My voice rises into a high pitch noise I’m estranged to. I never knew my voice could be so high when it’s always so breathy and low when I talk.
I can hear him breathing on the other side of the line, deep and calm when I’m everything but. He moves, probably on his bed, and I hear the sound of the clack of his lighter when he opens it to light on a cigarette. Now, he’s inhaling the smoke, keeping it three seconds before exhaling it. Even with my eyes wide open, I can picture him, picture the muscles in his arm flexing as he brings the cigarette to his parted lips. I can picture how his lips close around the cigarette and how he shuts his eyes for a second like he’s trying to bottle up the sensations of smoking.
“I did. I came by, and you weren’t there.”
Inside of me, intense joy and guilt collide, making everything explode. Why does he still care so much about me? Why is he still trying to talk with me? Why is he so … amazing? I shake my head and push away some stranded locks of hair coming in my face and brushing my mouth, just the way Duke’s fingers did sometimes before kissing me.
“Why did you use Derek’s phone? Have you erased my number?”
“I still have your number, but I’m sure you wouldn’t have answered if you had seen my name flashing on your screen. And Derek forgot his cell.” He moves again and this time I hear the sound of voices and a car door closing in the background. Apparently I’m mistaken; he’s not in his room. “Are you still with your parents?”
I sigh and stand back up, grabbing my backpack at the same time. “I’m back in the dorms.” I open the heavy door and it makes a loud noise that attracts the attention of the students walking in the hall and those in the commons talking and laughing with each other. I feel my cheeks getting warm, but I force myself to walk, one foot in front of the other, slowly but with assurance. I don’t have to feel so insecure all the time when I do something that attracts their attention. It’s not bad, but it’s still difficult for me when I spent so much time trying to be invisible, to do everything right.
“Are you really going to see him?” he asks me, his voice is anguished and hard on the word him. He doesn’t have to tell me who he is talking about.
I grab my keys in the outside pocket of my backpack and open the door to my empty room. Kate is studying like a mad woman now that the exams are getting closer, so close that I should be focusing on them instead of Sean and my love life. But I don’t have the need to have perfect grades like I did just a few months ago. My perfect grades were because I thought it was the perfect shield to hide that I wasn’t happy and that things were awful for me. Now, I know that I’m a good student, so I don’t go that crazy over revisions.
“Duke …”
“I don’t like it, Skye.” He sighs in the phone, his breathing loud in the speaker. “It’s going to be really hard. I … I don’t want you to suffer like that again.”
I lie down on my bed and play with the hem of my oversized sweater. His words are music to my broken heart, softening the sharp edges I created on my own. “It’ll be fine. You know that I have to face him.”
He groans, but doesn’t try to change my mind. When my mind is settled on something, I’m quite stubborn. That’s something that is developing in my personality, and I’m not sure if it’s that good. But I’m not just at one flaw at this point, I have plenty enough as it is already.
“Are your parents coming with you?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I know he’s going to hate this. “No.”
“Kate?”
“Umm … No.”
He clears his throat. “Derek?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Don’t tell me that Dr. Marshall is coming with you.”
I never even thought about asking him. “Nope.” He doesn’t react. “Duke?”
“You’re going alone? To a prison? To see the guy who assaulted you and almost killed you?” His voice is low, deep and sends shivers down my spine, but not the pleasant ones. These are the ones that you have when you’re spooked.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Stop it with that fucking word! You won’t be fine after you’ve spoken with that psychopath. And you know it. What are you trying to do?”
I sit up and lean against the wall, my legs crossed in front of me. “Why do you think I called my parents? They’re here for me, Duke. I’ll go see them afterwards.”
“You’re really out of your mind if you think it’ll be enough.” He clears his throat again. “But I suppose that it’s none of my business now. Right?”
I don’t even know what to say. His words are always cutting me deep, and most of the time I’m not even sure he’s aware of it. He’s trying to protect himself after he handed me his heart and I stabbed it without mercy. “Bye, Duke.”
And he hangs up without a word, without saying goodbye. I stand up and grab my textbooks and my laptop, ready to lose myself in my studies for a little while. I need a break, a break from all these conflicted feelings and from everybody who thinks that they know better than me what I need and should or shouldn’t do.
***
DUKE
I tighten my grip on Derek’s phone and move to throw it to the ground with all my strength, determined to break it into million of pieces like I am. But at the last second I put it back in my jeans pocket.
“Fuck!’’ I growl out, startling a few girls walking by. In the corner of my eyes, I can see them eyeing me with suspicion, hurrying their steps to get away from me as soon as possible. I’m so pissed that all I want is to yell at them again just because they have a smile on their faces and don’t give a fuck that a guy like me is crumbling because of a girl. How messed up is that?
If only Skye was just any girl, things would be easier. But she’s way more than that, and as much as I’d have never thought I’d say this … she’s my one girl, my one chance. I’ve got so much luck—yeah, right— that even I can’t have it. Happiness is not for me; I lost that right years ago. I have been delusional thinking that being in love, truly in love would make a difference. No, being in love only means that there is something still to break up, to crush and ruin me for good.
Instead of giving her my trust and comfort, I’m pushing her away all over again. But I will not make that mistake again. She will not know I’m there for her, but I will be. That’s the only fucking thing left for me or else nothing is keeping me here. Not my friends, not my family, just her.
I glance one last time at the building, at her floor, and I nod. “I’m a fucker, but I’ll not fuck this up. I’ll be there for you, Skye.’’
I turn around and push back the voice darkening my every thought. I don’t get why she wants to see Sean so soon, why she needs that type of closure, and I sure don’t get what’s going on with her and Dr. Marshall, but she’s more important than anything else. If I have to help her get better for another guy …
Fuck, no. I can’t even think about that shit.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and step on my cigarette, my black biker boot crushing it under my weight as my heart bleeds a little more.
Chapter Twelve
SKYE
I wave goodbye to my parents and Kate and driv
e away. It’s almost like they’re seeing their only child and best friend go to war. In a way, it is a war. Facing Sean is a war against him, but also against myself and all the defense mechanisms I have put together over the years.
The GPS gives me directions towards the prison, the male voice breaking the silence in the car as I think about how long this day is going to be. After visiting Sean, I have my psychology class and then my appointment with Dr. Marshall. The most draining days are always the longest ones.
After exactly twenty-three minutes, I park the car in front of the big building. The main door is painted in dark paint and is made with heavy metal, the kind that would never break even from the assault of some kind of explosives—not that I know much about these things. The walls aren’t white as they probably should be, but a washed out grey, accentuating the sordid feeling I have while looking at the building, securely tucked in Kate’s car with the AC refreshing me. I’m sweating profusely.
Thousands of prisoners are in there. Some are purging a sentence after they killed someone or raped or stole. There are gang members, hard core thieves… In there, there are all the bad influences Sean doesn’t need. It’s surreal to think that last year Sean and I were together, making plans for college while I hid the truth of what our relationship really was. It’s surreal to think we were named Best Couple of our prom in our yearbook.
I turn off my phone, grab my handbag and walk slowly toward the building, glancing at the people doing the same and making sure to lock Kate’s car over my shoulder. Most of the people coming to visit are women of all ages. Some are with their kids, others with their sisters, but everybody harbors the same expression. A mix of dread and impatience. I know all men in there are not monsters, most of them aren’t, and it’s fortunate. I have a hard time thinking that even the monsters have people caring about them. Sean has at least one person who cares about him; his mother is a saint for that. Or maybe it’s just because she’s a mom and can’t turn her back on her only child.
Fix Up Page 18