Porter lay on his bed, holding his old ratty guitar.
“You’re being difficult,” I told him and sat on his bed next to him. “That isn’t fair to any of us. We like you, and we want you to be a part of the family… but you have to want to be part of us, too.”
“I don’t want to study, I only want to play music,” he said, his dark eyes staring at me.
I felt he needed to know more about music, so I took him to my room where I had all my music sheets.
“It’s fun to play, but it’s better when you make music,” I explain. “However, it’s smart if you write it down. Then others can play what you made or a band can play along with you… then you can also add lyrics to it. Needless to say, if you don’t know how to read or write, you can’t create lyrics. Well, you could, but you’ll forget them since you didn’t write them down.”
Porter examined the sheets without making a sound for a long time.
“Can we make a deal?” I asked, interrupting the painful silence. “Remember you asked me to teach you to play the piano?”
“Yes, you never answered.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t,” I was honest. I wasn’t as proficient as he thought. “I’ll convince my daddy to teach you, if you finish everything that is on your daily schedule.”
Daddy agreed and each day, Porter would get everything done. Homework, chores, piano lessons, and whatever extra he had pending. Every night we practiced together for two straight hours before heading to bed. When he excelled, he moved to the next instrument, and we’d repeat the same routine every night.
I made sure he finished everything to avoid any problems with my parents. He was older than me, but I had made it my mission to protect him from everything, even my parents. His biggest fear was that they’d kick him out of the family. The only people who cared for him.
2005
Two summers later and without my brothers at home, things changed between Porter and I. Not drastically but… our relation shifted. My parents sent us to all kinds of camps during the summer to meet other children. They wanted us to learn how to survive in the wilderness, to master how to play in a band, and to learn how to play some sort of sport… but the real reason was to kick us out of the house. Except, after the accident and the incident where I had been called ‘The Thing,’ I refused to leave the house.
My parents stopped leaving for two months over the summer, but the advantage of it was that they had to deal with the easy child—me.
At fourteen, the story turned out differently, we had Porter at home. They decided not to send him away to any camp as he was behind in school. He had plenty to do here.
Porter didn’t care either way; I helped him with his school work and we hung around often, except in the mornings during my swimming time.
I considered myself a half fairy, half mermaid creature.
JC swore he was the only normal person in the household.
Human.
I swore he was part human, part pig but when I said it, it usually ended up in a fight and me helping him pick up his messy room.
The point was I swam daily for half an hour to an hour. The time restrictions were due to my juvenile diabetes; I had to balance my physical activity. To hide myself—my body—from everyone, I used the indoor pool. I made sure no one was around because I hated that anyone would see me without long sleeves and baggy pants. I tried to cover my entire body ashamed of who I was.
Uninvited, Porter appeared.
“Why are you here?” The question came out harsher than I intended, but he wore a pair of swimming trunks and looked about ready to join me. After more than a year, Porter hadn’t seen me outside of my baggy uniform.
“You can use the outdoor pool,” I reminded Porter.
“I can’t find the sunscreen.” His poorly executed excuse made my hands curl into fists. Right in front of the outdoor pool and next to the shower was a huge built-in closet where the clean towels, sunscreen, goggles, and pool toys were kept. “Can I just stay with you?”
I copied my father’s stink-eye.
“Your brothers are gone,” he whined. “I’m bored.”
“Look, I’m not comfortable at the moment,” I shook my head. “Perhaps we can do something later like ride horses, play with the new air hockey table or… you can choose anything. Except swimming. We can’t hang out while I’m swimming.”
He nodded, and my body completely relaxed. After he had headed outside, I swam to the corner of the pool where I could see the entrance to the room. He was still there. Actually, he sat on the floor and played with his Gameboy. My time was up, but I didn’t have a towel handy and I liked Porter a lot. Once he saw me, I knew he’d avoid me and living with a person who feared you didn’t feel promising, actually it terrified me.
Instead of heading out, I decided to swim a few more laps until he was gone. Except, I had to stop at some point. By then I had little notion of the time. My limbs were heavy and my head, dizzy. Rapidly, I jumped out of the water and without giving it a second thought, I headed to the entrance where the clean, dry towels were.
As I approached, he lifted his gaze. He stared directly at my body, his eyes widened and his body moved as far backward as he could until he was against the wall.
“You promised,” I had a hard time talking.
My mouth was numb, my head pounding and I felt shaky.
The towels didn’t matter; the shallow breaths and the head pounding made me run extremely fast toward the main house. I took a protein bar from the snack box, ate it, and jumped in the shower while shedding tears of rage.
He saw how imperfect I was, he’d think I was a freak.
The Thing.
After finishing with my bath, I put on a pair of pajamas and locked the door to my room. No one would come in and out for the rest of the summer or the year.
A soft knock on the door came around two that afternoon.
“Ainse, open the door,” Daddy called out.
I did, he held a tray with some fresh fruit and a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
“You know better, Ainse.” He wasted no time lecturing me. “If my math is correct, you were swimming for about two hours, and you almost skipped lunch.”
“I ate a protein bar,” my weak defense granted me a groan.
“Please take better care of yourself,” was the only thing he said. “What happened, why are you bolting yourself inside your room?”
I shook my head, followed it with a shrug, and started eating before he gave me a hard time.
I didn’t want to tell my parents what had happened, or that I knew Porter would treat me like the monster I was.
When my parents left the room, Porter tried to come inside but I kicked him out. I climbed out of bed, shut my door, and actually moved a chair to cover it. Only my parents had been allowed inside.
He knocked on the door for an entire week until one day he woke me up at six in the morning, singing. He didn’t have a bad voice but listening for hours to the same two lines drove the entire house insane.
Come out
Or I’ll never stop singing.
The most stupid tune over and over and over again. Unfortunately, canceling noise headphones hadn’t been invented back then, and my radio wasn’t working. All my instruments were where they belonged, in the music room.
“Shut up,” I screamed after a few hours.
“Not until you…” He continued singing for what felt like years.
There was a bang on my door.
“Come out before we kill him, AJ,” Dad’s unhappy voice said.
With that kind of threat, I had no other choice but to find out what he wanted. I went to the door and opened it slightly.
“What do you want?”
“Duh, for you to come out,” he stated the obvious. “You promised to hang out with me and that was
a week ago. I’m waiting. My patience is running low.”
“I’d rather not.” I shut the door again and the strumming immediately followed. “Ugh, shut up.”
“You went back in,” he sang.
“You saw me, I’m a freak,” I fumed, as I tried to make him understand. “I won’t come out of my room for the rest of my life.”
“That’s a long time,” he pointed out and laughed.
“Well, I’ll wait until you head for college. Whatever happens first?”
“Why are you a freak, exactly?”
His questioned stumped me, didn’t he see my body?
“Because I’m hideous,” I grumbled.
“No, you’re beautiful and you have the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen, and you have to come out before I die of boredom,” he sang.
He banged on the door and talked. “Check this out.” I reopened the door and his shirt was off. He pointed to the scar that started on his clavicle and ended around the stomach. “This doesn’t make me a freak; it makes me, well, me.”
I opened the door wider and took a closer look at his scar.
“You were my last friend,” my voice was a murmur almost lost in the air.
“I’m not anymore?” His face scrunched up and asked, “Is it because of my scar?”
“No, of course not.” My heart thumped loudly for him.
“Then we’re friends forever, to me, you’ll always be the most beautiful girl in the world.”
A huge grin overtook my face. From that point on he always babied me, made sure I knew how much I mattered to him.
That sealed the spell I lived under for years. My life became Porter Kendrick. I lived and breathed only for him… until he cut the oxygen supply and let me die.
2008
It took seconds for me to develop a crush the size of the universe on Porter—I was his biggest fan. He could do no wrong, and we were inseparable. However, I wanted us to be something more than friends. My ideal dream was that when we grew up, we’d be like Cleopatra and Mark Antony. Bonnie and Clyde. Romeo and Juliet. Tristan and Isolde. Edward and Bella.
An epic story.
The crush hadn’t been the only consequence of that fateful day. Porter started to work harder each day. He had big goals, music goals. My parents had a few conditions for us, one of which was we had to earn a degree. Any degree, no matter what we chose to do with our lives. The four of us. If Porter wanted to leave the house and become a huge success in the music business, he had to have a degree.
Except, when the time came, my parents bent the rules for Porter. As Porter acquired his high school degree, he registered himself in a community college. A virtual college, so while he started to play some music live in a few venues and recorded a few tracks of his own music, he took classes online.
I was sixteen when Porter started to push his way to stardom. He released several tracks before he even played live in a few coffee shops.
Music was his thing—our thing.
He’d play the guitar, make songs, and communicate with others through music. Mostly with me.
We did that nightly, playing something new and different which came from the deepest part of our hearts. Most times we mixed heavy metal with some pop punk—which was what I liked to play the most. The music we produced was a combination of the two different worlds, our worlds.Several of his songs were a compilation of those moments. In fact, he was famous for his alternative rock music. By the time Porter turned nineteen, he had a full album and was part of the opening act for Joy and Heavenly Rhythm.
He was gone for so long that our only way to communicate was via emails and a few calls. During the weekend of Thanksgiving, my brothers and I headed to watch him play in Vancouver. That night everything changed between us. He didn’t know we’d be there, he didn’t know I was watching and before he began to sing, he dedicated that song.
“This new song goes to my girl,” he said. “It’s only me and you, AJ, only me and you no matter where we are.”
That night he owned my entire heart. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. Me and him. The rest of the world didn’t matter anymore.
It’s in your smile,
Your eyes,
The way they see me.
With you I’m invincible.
Because it’s only me and you.
Me and you, no matter where you are.
I own your heart and you own mine.
You gave me the strength to be who I am.
Now I can conquer the world,
But I only need to conquer your heart.
I only need your heart to survive.
Because it’s only me and you.
Me and you, no matter where you are.
I own your heart and you own mine.
Let’s run away,
Only the two of us,
No one will ever break us.
I’ll never let anything come between us.
Because it’s only me and you.
Me and you, no matter where you are.
I own your heart and you own mine.
Not only me but an entire stadium heard him loud and clear. He only needed me to survive.
After he had finished his entire set, he headed toward the backstage where we waited. Of course, we had backstage passes. MJ and JC had made fun of me.
“Ooh, Porter, my love,” JC placed his hands on top of his heart and batted his eyelashes. “He wants my heart.”
“Stop it.” MJ pushed him lightly. I wanted to kiss my brother for defending me until he opened his mouth, “The guy can conquer the world. He might want to beat the shit out of us if we bother her.”
“Idiots!”
I hated them for it, but it didn’t matter because as soon as Porter spotted me, the entire room disappeared.
His dark eyes sparkled or at least I think they did. Like in the movies or those anime shows where shiny sprinkles come out of the character’s eyes when they see the love of their life. And just like a cheesy movie, we ran toward each other. He opened his arms and hugged me tightly.
Porter turned my world around several times. This one, he had me believing we were meant to be together—forever. We had our own unique relationship. I told him things I never shared with anyone. He knew my fears, my hopes, my dreams and next to him I was always special.
“Baby, I missed you so much,” he murmured, his voice sending me into a haze I didn’t want to leave. “You have no fucking idea how much.”
“I missed you too, Porter,” I nuzzled his neck and absorbed his spicy-earthy scent.
His lips brushed mine, nothing intense, but from that moment on, Porter Kendrick called me his girl.
Being his girl and making him happy became my ultimate goal. If he asked me to go to the sun for him, I’d do it. Anything for Porter.
He was special. He saw something in me that no one else did. At least that is what I thought.
Nothing much happened between us, other than stolen kisses and emails professing our love for each other. We didn’t label our relationship, and we kept it away from the rest of the world. It was ours, for us, and that’s the way we wanted it.
2009
My entire life became a complete lie from the moment I agreed to be with Porter. The same life that revolved around Porter.
One of the most important decisions of my life was made purely to please him—Porter.
College.
When it came time to decide between Oberlin, Berklee College of Music, Yale, Juilliard, and so many others; I decided to go with what would make Porter happy.
“Texas?” Dad planned to pay for my college tuition in advance. “We expected… another college. Didn’t you audition for Juilliard?”
I shrugged.
I auditioned and they accepted me, but I declined the opportunity because I wanted to… make Porter hap
py.
“They don’t have any of the degrees I want to study.” I handed him the brochures with all the information I had.
Occupational therapists, special education degrees… I hadn’t decided what I’d study after I obtained my Bachelor of Music with an emphasis in instrumental.
“Music?” He frowned, fanning the brochure for the music school.
“No, Daddy. Education,” I pointed at the Bachelor of Science in applied learning I had handed him. “I want to teach both music and academics. Julliard doesn’t have that. None of those schools have what I want.”
A warmer climate that Porter wouldn’t have to suffer around when he visited me. More visits. Yes, I was all about seeing him more often.
“How many degrees are you planning on studying?” He made a pile of the brochures. “These are more than five different schools within the same university.”
“A couple of bachelor’s, a master’s… the usual,” I grinned at him.
“Tell you what,” he scratched his temple, “I’ll set up a trust to pay for your education, and you’ll be able to access the money through your checking account. The amount I set should last you for about six years and cover your fees, books, and some living expenses. It’ll be wise if you have a job to pay for your knick-knacks.”
That was the best news I’ve ever had in my entire life. I hugged him tight and called him the best father ever.
I didn’t know how much and for how long they’d be willing to pay for my school. I had backup plans, but knowing the tuition would be covered, relieved a lot of weight from my back. My parents had money to splurge. However, both taught us not to spend it like drunken sailors. They had worked hard all their lives to have what they did, and wanted us to know the value of it. Not take it for granted.
During my first year of college, I lived in the dorms. Instead of having my parents moving me in, I had Mason help me with that task.
Nine: Have pity on me and help me move to Texas.
“Only because you’re hanging superhero posters on the walls.” He called me instead of texting me back.
Unlike Any Other (Unexpected Book 1) Page 10