by SM Koz
I pull into the garage, slam my car into park, and rush inside. There’s a note from my dad saying he’s out picking up dinner for us. I’m all alone and the feeling I haven’t had in weeks sneaks up on me. It’s barely noticeable at first, like an itch you can’t quite reach, but it grows quickly as I picture JC telling me to leave. He meant for good.
“Shit!” I yell, pressing my palm into my forehead as the feeling intensifies, but it’s turning into something different than what I used to have. Before, it was the suffocating weight of guilt. This is a deep anguish as I realize the one person in the whole world who was meant for me no longer loves me.
I frantically search around the kitchen. I don’t need to cut to breathe this time. I need to cut to forget how JC has hurt me.
The knives are still locked up, but our glasses are out. I could smash one and have what I need in only a few seconds. I remove one from a cabinet and hold it in front of my face. Just a few seconds for that sweet, sweet release …
Chapter 37: October 2-4
A whining breaks my concentration. I look down and Daisy is there with her leash in her mouth. She paws my leg and whines again. It’s time for her walk. My eyes dart back to the glass, but she nudges me with her nose.
“Why doesn’t he like me anymore, Daisy?”
She sits down and wags her tail, then drops the leash on the ground. Her mouth is hanging open and she’s panting, nothing in the world mattering to her but the walk.
“I hate this feeling. It’s how Sheila made me feel, but this is worse. I hated her. I love JC. His opinion means everything to me.”
She yips and puts her front paws on the counter, staring at the glass with me as though it holds the answer to my earlier question.
I know it doesn’t hold the answer, but it does hold temporary relief. “It will make me feel better,” I tell her. She looks at me and tilts her head, as if trying to understand. “For a few minutes at least.”
She licks my hand, so I set the glass on the counter and pet her head. When I do, I catch a glimpse of my arm. The only red scars are the two deep gashes that required stitches. Everything else is white now, looking more and more like Kris’ thigh.
“After those few euphoric minutes, I’ll hate myself,” I whisper. “I’ll have ruined all the progress I’ve made in a fraction of a second. My dad will be disappointed. Marta will be disappointed. Elise will be disappointed.”
Daisy must lose interest in the conversation because she drops to the ground and picks up her leash again.
“I’ll tell myself it’s just this one time, but then I won’t be able to stop. My life will revolve around cutting again. Suddenly, I’ll solve every problem that way. Get a bad grade? Slice up my arm. Parking ticket? Hack up my belly. It’s all I’ll be able to think about. As soon as I finish one cut, I’ll count down the hours until the next one. It will go on and on until one day when I cut a little too deep … ending it all.”
Daisy lays the leash on my feet in a not-so-subtle clue that’s she’s ready for the highlight of her day.
“You’re right,” I say with resolve. “It’s not worth it. I can’t go back there. I can’t risk it.”
Without another thought, I clip her leash onto her collar and rush out the door, far away from anything sharp.
As soon as we’re outside, Daisy pulls me to the sidewalk and down the hill towards Jenna’s house only stopping momentarily to sniff my neighbor’s mums. I continue talking to her and pray none of my neighbors have their windows open so they can hear me.
“Maybe I’m wrong about all this. It’s just a disconnected phone. That could be due to anything, right Daisy? Maybe I’m just jumping to conclusions. I have myself so freaked out, maybe I just jumped on the first thought that came to mind.”
She answers by tugging on the leash so we start moving again.
Across the street, Elise is outside watering plants on her porch. She waves and Daisy sees her. Since Elise always has dog treats on hand, Daisy starts pulling me in that direction.
“How are you two today?” she asks when we meet her on the steps. She reaches into her pocket and removes two dog cookies.
“Why would someone disconnect their phone?” I ask, as she hands the first one to Daisy.
“They can’t afford it anymore?”
I nod. That is a possibility. I know JC’s family doesn’t have much money and the medical bills have to be expensive, but that wouldn’t happen all of a sudden. It seems like Nana could’ve warned me about that.
“Why else?”
“They don’t want people calling them?” she says, as she gives Daisy the other cookie.
That’s my concern. They don’t want me calling anymore. That what started this whole emotional frenzy.
“Why else?”
“What happened, Kelsie?”
I quickly explain the situation, leaving out my gut reaction to the news and narrowly escaping a relapse.
When I finish, she says, “It could be something as simple as Nana wanting to switch cell phone providers. Maybe she’s getting around to calling people and letting them know. I bet you’ll hear from her soon.”
I nod, hoping she’s correct, but seriously doubting it. That just doesn’t feel right.
Daisy and I finish the walk and then return home. As soon as we reach the kitchen, I see the glass on the counter. I hold it up in front of my face like I did earlier. There’s a longing for the rush, but it’s not like I need to do it. I place it back in the cabinet, surprised by my own willpower. I have to imagine the drugs are playing a role in that. There is no way I would’ve been able to resist the temptation back in June.
Taking Daisy with me to the backyard, I dial Marta’s number. I’m not sure if she’ll answer since this isn’t our usual time, but I want to tell her the good news.
“Hello?” Her voice is clipped like she’s in a hurry.
“It’s me, Kelsie.”
“Oh, hello. I wasn’t expecting you to call today. Is everything okay?”
“Yes and no.”
“Tell me about it.” I hear car doors slamming in the distance and some people yelling.
“I almost cut today.”
“But you didn’t?”
“No.”
“How’d you stop yourself?”
“I told myself I didn’t want to do it and then took Daisy for a walk.”
“That’s wonderful, Kelsie. I’m very proud of you. Are you still taking your meds?”
“Yes … it was hard to stop myself.”
There’s a rustling sound, like Marta is doing something while she holds her phone up with her shoulder. “I imagine it was, but it will get easier every time. Do you want to tell me why you were thinking about cutting?”
“JC’s gone. I’m worried he doesn’t love me anymore.”
“He’s not gone. I’m with him right now. Plus, he wears that scarf you made him every day even though he’s in a climate controlled hospital. That makes me think he misses you quite a bit.”
I sit up straight and beam. Was Elise right? Is there a simple solution to all of this? One that doesn’t involve JC turning his back on me forever?
“Really?” I ask, wanting to be sure I heard her correctly.
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“Thank you,” she says to someone else. To me she says, “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Police orders.”
That erases the smile. “What the hell is going on, Marta?”
“Give me a second. I’m trying to register as an approved guest.”
I put the phone on speaker and set it on my knee while I wait for her. There’s a series of muffled words and the sound of paper being moved around. Then a beep and some footsteps.
“Are you there, Kelsie?”
“Yes.”
“JC had to change hospitals. One of the gang members got in and all the way up to his floor.”
With those words, my heart t
hreatens to slam out of my chest. They’re still trying to kill him. Will they ever stop? “Omigod. Is he okay?”
“Yes, security was able to disarm the intruder before he hurt anyone, but we decided it was time for JC to leave. We knew that time was coming. We thought he’d be safe while he was in the hospital, but obviously we were wrong.”
“Where is he now?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why doesn’t Nana have her phone?”
“The police confiscated it. They don’t want them to be found.”
“You can google anyone and determine where they are.”
“They’re in the process of legally changing their names.”
Holy shit. This is like stuff out of the movies. JC wasn’t kidding when he said he grew up in a different world than me. “Can I talk to them?”
“The police are being very conservative right now because they’re not sure how the gang determined he was in the hospital.”
“That’s a no?”
“Not for a while.”
“Why do I feel like you’re just trying to wean me off JC, little by little? First remove me physically, now remove me by phone.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
I sigh and run my hand through my hair. Daisy is chasing her tail on the other side of the yard, oblivious to the news I just received. “Are you staying with him all the time?”
“No. I’ll be here a couple days each week and home the rest of the time.”
“Tell him I love him.”
“I will.”
After I hang up, I sit in the darkened backyard thinking about what I learned as Daisy now barks at something on the other side of the fence. The gang didn’t kill JC and he’s wearing my scarf. Those are two good pieces of news. I’ll cling to those for the time being.
*****
On Sunday, my dad decides we’re hiking in Topanga State Park. I lace up my hiking boots that are still coated in mud from the storm while he loads water and fruit into a daypack and Daisy into the back of the Land Rover. It’s a quiet trip, both in the car and during the start of the hike.
“You doing okay?” he asks when we pause for water on an uphill.
“Yes, why?”
“You’re awfully quiet.”
With a sigh, I say, “I can’t talk to Nana anymore.”
“Why not?”
I explain the situation and he’s shocked. Apparently, he never knew why JC was in the hospital in the first place. He asks me a bunch of questions, most of which I can’t answer and then he becomes the quiet one. We start hiking again, me in the lead, and I have to turn around every few minutes to make sure he’s still there.
After forty minutes, we reach a scenic overlook so I stop and pull out my phone. I take a few pictures and then face my dad who is enjoying the view.
“I know it’s not like I was talking to him before anyway, but I was talking to Nana so I had some sort of connection. I felt like maybe I was helping him in some small way.”
“I’m sure you were.”
I kick a pebble over the edge of the trail and into the canyon below. “Obviously I want him to be safe, but I hate that I can’t know anything. It’s not fair.” I realize I’m whining like a child, but I don’t care.
“Are phones totally out?”
I shrug. “Marta made it seem that way.”
“Surely there’s another way to connect with his family, right?”
“No,” I reply grumpily. “I’ve checked all the social media sites. None of his close relatives have an account and I don’t remember the names of any of his extended family.”
“Well, you know, back in the day, we used to communicate without computers and cell phones and Facebook and all that.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious. Write a letter.”
“I don’t even know where he is.”
“Marta does. Address it to her. I’m sure she’ll make sure he gets it.”
I bite my lip as I consider his words. He does have a point. I have Marta’s home address and she said she’s visiting him a couple times a week. She could potentially deliver a letter to him. It might be worth a shot.
With renewed optimism, I hand my phone to my dad. “Take a picture of me and Daisy. I want to send it to JC.”
After we get an acceptable one, I ask “Do you really think he’ll eventually talk to me again?”
He gives me a reserved smile. “You’ll be able to answer that better than me since I hardly know him.”
Staring off in the distance, I remain quiet because I don’t know the answer.
My dad wraps his arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “He did seem very fond of you when he woke up. It wasn’t until he realized how serious his condition was that his attitude changed.”
I nod. “It sucks.”
“He’s a man. He wants to appear strong in front of women, especially the woman he loves. He wants to feel like he can take care of you, not like you have to take care of him. It’s the way we are.”
“And if he never gets that back?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that.”
The rest of the hike I feel better because I have a plan to sort of communicate with JC, even if it is one-way communication. The only thing still weighing on my mind is my dad’s words about him wanting to appear strong. He’s still strong to me, but if he doesn’t feel strong, my opinion probably doesn’t matter.
Once we get home, I rush to my bedroom and sit at my desk with a piece of notebook paper and a pink pen. I write Dear JC at the top and then stare at it. I’m not used to writing actual letters.
Over the next hour, I write, scribble out, and rewrite the letter. When it’s done, it looks like a mess, but the words are true. If he won’t let me talk to him, he can at least read how I feel. I smooth out the paper and scan it one last time.
Dear JC,
I miss you like crazy, but understand why you did what you did. I’m not angry or upset or even sad. Well, maybe a little sad, but that’s because I want to share in all the joys you have as you heal, not because of the way you treated me. I can’t even begin to imagine what your life has been like since you woke up from the coma. No one can, so there’s no sense judging you on your behavior. You have every right to be mad, frustrated, annoyed, whatever.
I just want you to know that I still love you. I will always love you. I don’t care if you can walk or talk. We could figure out a way. Those are just your sprinkles and icing and that was never what I liked about you anyway. I liked the disgusting flavor of cake that you and I share. I think we can help each other. I want to help you and I want you to help me, but I understand if you want something different. You just have to tell me. Until then, I’ll keep trying.
Love always,
Mal
I print out the picture of me and Daisy and then address the envelope to Marta. Hopefully he’ll have it in a few days and at least know how I feel.
Chapter 38: November 15
“Kelsie, wake up. It’s time for your appointment with Dr. Sanchez,” my dad says knocking on my door.
I roll over to look at the clock, but Daisy’s nose blocks my view. She yawns and then snuggles closer to me. Propping myself up on my elbow, I can see that I still have five minutes. “I’m up, Dad.”
He continues talking to me through the door. “After therapy, I was thinking we could go to the airport.”
“LAX?”
“No, the private one where my jet is.”
I yawn and climb off the bed. Opening my door, I ask, “Why would we do that? Are we going somewhere?”
“No. When you were little, you liked to watch the planes coming and going.”
“That doesn’t sound like me,” I say, scrunching up my nose.
“You did. I swear.”
“You and I used to sit at the airport?”
“Uh huh.” He bites his lip, which ma
kes me think there’s more to the story.
“What are you leaving out?”
“Nothing …”
“You’re lying.”
“It’s not important. That’s just where I would take you when your mom had too much to drink. I didn’t want her around you when she was like that.”
“That means I enjoyed it when I was like one or two?”
“Uh huh,” he nods, all excited, as though I should still like spending time that way.
“Okay, Dad. Sounds like fun.” Although I question the fun part, I do appreciate everything he’s come up with to spend time together and I don’t want to seem overly critical, even if I’m not sure how we’ll spend an entire afternoon watching planes.
After I go to the bathroom and feed Daisy, it’s time to call Marta. I settle myself back on the bed.
“Good morning, Kelsie,” she says after the first ring.
“Good morning.”
“How are things going?”
“Good.” It’s the truth. I haven’t wanted to cut anymore. That’s saying something since I have plenty of time to myself with my own thoughts. I still think of Jenna all the time, but the memories don’t send me into a downward spiral anymore.
I’ve also been writing weekly letters to JC for the past month and a half. That makes me feel like I’m helping him despite having no clue where he is or what he’s doing. Marta assures me every letter is delivered, although she never tells me if he reads them. Whether he still loves me, I have no clue. I continue to focus on the positives and don’t let the lack of information get me down. I tell him in every letter that he just needs to tell me to stop writing if he wants me out of his life. So far he hasn’t done that, which I take as a good sign.
“Do you have big plans for Thanksgiving?” Marta asks.
“I’m not sure.” Daisy must have finished breakfast because she runs back into my room and launches herself onto the bed. She rolls over and I rub her belly. “We haven’t talked about it. You?”