Safe Distance

by Megan Green

  We all nod at what he’s saying. I look over at Aasif and he smiles at me. He brings his hands together and presses them to his lips. Then he bows his head toward me. When he looks back up, he appears to have tears in his eyes. I nod back, giving him a small smile before heading back to the truck with the others.

  As Sarge starts the truck and begins to pull away, I look out the back window toward where the boys had been playing ball earlier. They’re still there, but have stopped kicking the ball between them. Now the one that reminded me of Chris is crouched down in the exact same stance Chris was in earlier. He swings his arms up, mimicking all of Chris’s movements. His friend giggles at him, encouraging him to go on. Huh. Maybe it was the time and place for Chris to be a goof. If it brings those two boys a few minutes of happiness, then it was worth it.

  “So, which one should we watch? Pretty in Pink or Sixteen Candles?”

  I walk into the living room, carrying a giant bowl of popcorn and two cans of Pepsi.

  “Em. Seriously. You know I love John Hughes, but there are other movies out there. We’ve watched all of his, like, fifty times already. Please don’t make me hate Jake Ryan. My heart can’t take it.”

  Emma rolls her eyes. “Blasphemer!” She picks up the DVD case for Sixteen Candles and holds it to her chest, stroking it gently. “It’s okay. She didn’t mean it. Everybody loves you, Jake. Don’t listen to her.”

  Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. Emma sure has a flair for the dramatic. I plop down on the couch and grab the remote. Emma pops up off the couch in return, scurrying across the room to put in the movie. The familiar opening credits start rolling and I settle in with my popcorn.

  Not even two minutes into the movie, Emma starts in. “I wish Chris were here.”

  We’ve seen each other almost every day since the guys left, and not a single one goes by without her saying some variation of this. It’d be annoying if she wasn’t so damn sincere. She isn’t just vying for attention and sympathy. She really misses the hell out of him. If it weren’t for school and me trying to get her to come over every night, I’m pretty sure she’d be curled up in her bed all day, watching John Hughes and eating ice cream, tears streaming down her face as she talked to herself. At least over here she has me to talk to while she cries and devours her weight in Chunky Monkey.

  I sit up and push pause on the movie. Even though I am getting a little tired of them, I’d never disrespect John Hughes by talking through one of his movies. I turn to Em, the tears already forming in her eyes. She usually has to get to the sappy parts of the movies before this starts. She must have had a hard day.

  I put my arms gently around her shoulders and hug her to me. Her tears fall in earnest now. She cries into my shoulder while I rock her gently and pat her back. I’ve always been awkward around other girls crying. The first time she broke down I was lost. I almost started crying myself, half out of frustration over not knowing what to do, and half out of fear that she’d never stop. But after a few weeks, I’m sort of becoming a pro at this. If I just let her cry it out, she’ll eventually turn back to normal Emma.

  Like clockwork, after a few minutes of sobbing, she pulls back from me and wipes her eyes. “God, I’m such a baby.” Smudges of mascara ring her eyes. I hand her a tissue and she wipes it away as best she can.

  “It’s okay to miss him,” I say in what I hope is a reassuring voice. “I’m sure he misses you just as much. More, even. That boy is whipped,” I add, trying to lighten the mood.

  It works. She laughs softly. “Damn right. Girls like me don’t come along every day and he damn well knows that. So does Ryan,” she adds thoughtfully.

  I look away. Even with as much time as we’ve spent together, I’ve always been able to avoid getting into too much detail about Ryan and me. Any time she brings him up, I’m always able to deflect the conversation back to her and Chris. It’s not hard. All I have to do is bring up that rock on her finger and all thoughts of Ryan and me disappear.

  If I’m honest, I miss the hell out of him too. Each day that passes without word from him leaves me feeling deflated. And when I finally do get one of his letters, the smile that is plastered on my face goes unnoticed by nobody. I’ve had to do some pretty quick thinking to talk my way out of a few of those conversations. Apparently people aren’t used to me smiling. Go figure.

  Emma definitely notices the look on my face at her mention of Ryan. I see the calculating look in her eyes. Before she can ask what will inevitably be a question I do not want to answer, I try my deflection technique. “When are you going to look for a dress? Am I invited?”

  Her eyes light up at the mention of dresses. I breathe a sigh of relief, ready to listen to her tirade of wedding cakes, color schemes, and invites, when the sparkle diminishes. “Nuh uh. Not gonna happen, Haylee. Yes, of course you’re invited. But that is not what we’re talking about tonight. Don’t act like I didn’t see that look when I said Ryan’s name. You’re not getting out of this again.”

  I groan. I knew this conversation would have to take place sooner or later. I was just hoping for later. Much, much later. “Fine. Yes, I miss him. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is. He’s my friend. I’m allowed to miss him.”

  She looks at me incredulously. “Who do you guys think you’re fooling? It’s pretty damn obvious to everyone around you. You two are the only ones too blind to see it.”

  I duck my head, not wanting to give away what happened between us the night before Ryan left. That he all but admitted he wanted more with me. Admitted that he cared for me. And I ran. The only difference between that night and any other night someone tried to get close to me, is that Ryan actually followed me. He didn’t just let me go. He came after me. He’s been breaking through all the barriers I’ve erected around myself since I met him.

  Emma doesn’t let my reluctance stop her. “Seriously, Hay. What’s the deal? Chris told me about Ryan’s parents. How his mom went crazy after his dad died. And how that makes him reluctant to start any type of relationship with a woman. I get that. I think it’s stupid. He’s absolutely worth the risk. But I get it. What I don’t get is why you’re so reluctant. Ryan cares for you. Anybody can see that. I think if you’d open yourself up to him, he’d drop all those silly pretenses of not wanting a relationship. Because I can see it in the way he looks at you. He knows you’re worth the risk as well.”

  I bury my face in my hands. “I’m not, though. He deserves someone better. Someone normal. Not some freaking head case he has to worry about every second of the day.” I push myself up off the couch, pacing back and forth in front of it. “Of course I care about him. And that’s what fucking scares me. You don’t know what happened, Em. Why I am the way I am. I’m broken. Damaged. Paranoid. Insane. Deranged. Fucked up. Pick your favorite adjective. They all apply.”

  Emma eyes me carefully. The look on her face only proves my point. I can see it in her eyes. Wondering what the fuck made me so psychotic. And probably trying to plan the best way out of here before I launch into another bout of crazed ranting.

  I slump in the chair in the corner, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. My head is pounding, like it always does when I let myself get too worked up. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves.

  I’m on my third deep breath when Emma’s arms fold around my shoulders. Before I can even finish inhaling, all the breath rushes out of me and I start to cry. The same body-racking sobs that I’ve held Emma through so many times these last few weeks.

  “God, I miss him, Emma,” I say through my tears, my voice garbled and weak. “I miss him so much. And I can’t even tell him that. It’s not fair to him. I can’t do that.”

  “Shhh,” she whispers in my ear. “Don’t you think you should let him be the judge of that? He’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions.”

  “Not without knowing everything. And I can’t tell him. He’ll never look at me the same. As much as the thought of never seeing him again—of letting him go fo
rever—kills me, the thought of him looking at me with disgust in his eyes is even more unbearable. I’d never get over it.”

  Emma rubs my back slowly. “Oh, sweetie. Nothing could be that bad. That boy loves you. Even if he won’t admit it, I see it. And so does Chris. He knows Ryan better than anybody. He says he’s never seen Ryan this happy. That has to mean something.”

  “That’s exactly why I can’t. You don’t know. You don’t understand,” I whine.

  “So tell me. You keep saying that. So make me understand. Tell me what is so horrible about you that you can’t allow yourself to be happy. Because I may have only known you for a few months, Haylee, but I know you deserve more credit than you give yourself. You’re smart. And beautiful. And funny. And a million other things that Ryan knows and loves you for. So tell me. What happened to make you hate yourself so much?”

  Her words sting. Because even after all the therapy sessions, that’s what it boils down to. I do hate myself. I hate myself for letting it happen. For trusting someone so completely when my whole life I’d been taught otherwise. For letting my guard down and becoming the laughing stock of the entire student body. For letting them get to me so badly I actually attempted to take my own life. For pulling Amanda into this enormous mess of a life with me. I hate myself for everything.

  I look up at Emma, her face blurry through my tears. She gives me an encouraging nod. I scrub my hands over my face, wiping away the evidence of my breakdown. I know I should keep my mouth shut. But after that, I feel like I need to talk. I need to get at least some of it off my chest. My therapist would be so proud. Unfortunately for Emma, she’s the unlucky one who gets to hear it.

  “My childhood sucked,” I start. “I know everybody says that, but mine really did. My dad split before I was even born, and my mom blamed me. Apparently even as an unborn child I screwed everything up. But that’s beside the point. Most of the time she was just neglectful. She’d drink herself into oblivion and I’d be left to fend for myself. Those were the good days. I looked forward to those days. How fucked up is that? But taking care of myself was far preferable to the alternative. The times when she didn’t pass out.”

  Hundreds of memories fly through my head. One in particular stands out. I look Emma straight in the eye. “You sure you want to hear this?” I see her swallow hard, but she nods warily, uncertain if she does but knowing I need to get the words out.

  “One night she came home roaring drunk. I’d gotten in the habit of locking myself in my room when she went out, knowing when she returned she’d come looking for me. She was a mean drunk. Most of the time she’d get a few hits in before she tired herself out and went to bed. But other nights—other nights were brutal.

  “This night was one of the worst. I heard her slam into the wall as she pushed through the door. The curse words that came up through the floor echoed off every wall. I buried myself in my covers, pulling them tight around me, praying to whatever God might be listening that she’d just go to bed. Several seconds later, I heard a deep voice. A man. She’d brought them home before. They were always deadbeats. Druggies. Men who were looking for a quick fuck and would be gone by morning. She was never quiet about it. Hearing his voice, I knew I was in for a night of little to no sleep, but at least I’d escape the worst of her wrath.

  “They stumbled into her bedroom, crashing into tables and walls as they went. The string of filthy words coming from the man’s mouth was loud and clear. I blushed, already knowing what those words meant. I was only ten.”

  Emma’s eyes widen. “Ten?” she asks incredulously. “You had to listen to that at ten years old?”

  I nod and return to my story. “They finally made it to her room and spent the next few hours…well, you know. Eventually they grew quiet. Guessing they’d fallen asleep, I quietly got out of bed and pressed my ear to the door. I couldn’t hear a thing. My stomach felt queasy and I was dying for a glass of water. I slowly opened the door and tiptoed down to the kitchen. I filled the glass as quietly as I could. As I took the first gulp, I heard a throat clear behind me. I slowly put the glass down and turned. He was standing there in the doorway, a dirty white t-shirt and torn boxer briefs the only things covering his body.

  “‘Who are you?’ he asked me. I shook my head and tried to walk past him. He stopped me, grabbing me by the chin and forcing me to look at him.

  “‘Bitch didn’t tell me she had a daughter. But you’ve gotta be. You look just like her. Just not as haggard. Fresh. Innocent.’

  “The asshole licked his lips as he said those two words. I was so scared, all I could do was stand there, completely frozen in my fear. He pulled me against him. Ran his hands up and down my back, finally cupping my bottom and lifting me against him. I could feel him through his boxers. It was then that I finally snapped out of it. I screamed. I screamed with everything I had in me, hoping my mother wasn’t so drunk she couldn’t hear me.

  “The asshole dropped me, smacking me across the face with as much strength as he could muster. I fell to the kitchen floor, dazed. After a few moments, my mom still hadn’t come in, and I saw the predatory look return to his eyes. He took a few steps toward me. I scrambled backward until I hit the cupboards. I had nowhere else to go. I squeezed my eyes shut as he grabbed my ankle and pulled me across the floor. Throwing me over his shoulder, he took me into the living room and tossed me on the couch. I couldn’t stop crying. Just as he was leaning over me, my salvation came.

  “‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ my mother’s voice rang out. I’d never been so glad to see her in my entire life. The asshole jumped up off me, scrambling for an excuse. My mother shoved him. ‘Get the fuck out of my house. Out. Get the fuck out!’ she shrieked, over and over. The man grabbed his keys off the table by the door and ran out, not even bothering to get his clothes.

  “I ran to my mother, throwing my arms around her waist and crying into her stomach. I told her how much I loved her. How grateful I was she stopped that man before he could hurt me. All the while hugging her to me as tightly as possible as I sobbed relentlessly.

  “She listened to me for a full minute, not touching me or soothing me. I didn’t care. All I cared about was that she was there. That for the first time in my life, she’d protected me. When I said as much, she flinched, unclasping my arms from around her waist. Looking up into her eyes, I expected to see love. Maybe this would be the turning point. Maybe she’d realize how selfish she’d been. Maybe now I’d have a real mom. One who loved me.

  “I should have known better. There was no love in her eyes. All I saw was hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred. Her lips curled back from her teeth in disgust. She threw me to the floor.

  “‘First your father, now him. You drive everyone out of my life. And I’m tired of it.’

  “I blacked out after her first few hits. I wasn’t able to go to school for a week, the bruises on my face far too noticeable. Normally, she was careful to keep the evidence off my face. But this time she’d been completely reckless.”

  I end it there. I could’ve talked all night, telling Emma about all the times my mother hurt me. Disappointed me. Completely destroyed me. But I can see the look of horror on her face. One story was enough. She now knows more than she ever wanted to.

  I don’t say anything else. I just watch her as she processes it. I want her to be the one to speak first. I need to know what she’s thinking.

  Finally, she exhales. Loudly. She meets my eyes. “Haylee, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine…” She trails off. “No, I’m not even going to go there. There’s nothing I can say to express my sympathy. And my hatred. Your mother was a fucking monster. She was given a precious gift in you. And she fucking destroyed it. She didn’t deserve you. I can sure as hell think of a few things she does deserve though. A gunshot to the head tops my list.”

  I laugh. The thought of sweet Emma ever shooting someone is comical. She just doesn’t have it in her. But I appreciate the sentiment. I sure wouldn’t complain if
my mom found herself in that position.

  Emma moved to the couch while I was talking, still hunched over in my chair. Now, I get up and move next to her. She pulls me into her arms again. Surprising me, she kisses me on the forehead. That simple gesture almost has me in tears again. I swallow hard, biting them back.

  “Haylee,” Emma eventually says, releasing me from her hold. I meet her gaze and she looks serious. “Your mom was awful. But that isn’t your fault. You were a kid. You couldn’t help what she did. You can’t blame yourself for what she did to you. Ryan surely won’t. In fact, if he ever finds out, you might really have to worry about your mom ending up dead. Dead serious. He’d go ballistic.”

  I nod. “I know. That damn knight-in-shining-armor complex he has runs deep,” I quip.

  She shakes her head. “It’s more than that, and you know it. He wouldn’t like finding that out about anyone. But you. The fact that it happened to you. He would kill her. She didn’t just abuse you. Or neglect you. What she did that night…I don’t even have words for that. It’s heinous. No man could overlook something like that.

  “But Haylee, he wouldn’t look at you any differently. If anything, it’d make him love you more. To finally understand. To know what you went through. He’d do anything to make it better. Give him a chance to.”

  I shake my head. “Em, it doesn’t end there. That was just to show you what I grew up with. Why I should’ve known better than to trust anyone. If you can’t trust your own mother to protect you from a pedophile, then you should know you can’t trust anyone. But I did. I fell for the first pretty face that looked my way. And it changed everything.”

  I feel the sweat running into my eyes. I do my best to wipe my forehead, but my damn helmet gets in the way. It’s hot today. Hotter than normal. I can feel my head swimming, my eyes unable to focus on anything. We’ve been through this village dozens of times. It’s a safe zone. If I have to deal with disorientation from the heat, at least I’m somewhere I can let my guard down a bit.