by Paul, JL
“Well, um, actually just a day or two after your last, um, visit,” he stammered.
My head jerked up and my jaw dropped. I gaped at him, my mouth drying in an instant. “After what happened between me and Mom?” The truth flashed through his eyes and I groaned, dropping my head to my hands. “Dad, no, don’t. Don’t do this. You know this will, um, blow over … or something.”
“Honey,” he said, holding up his hands. “It’s not your fault at all.” He reached across the table to pat my hand. “It has been building and building since…well…since Camille. The disagreement between you and your mother was just the last straw.”
My head sank to the table as this newest development washed over me. How much more could my family be ripped apart? Were there any remaining strands? Was there anything left to hold us together?
“This can’t be happening,” I mumbled into the wood surface, resisting the urge to bang my head. “This just cannot be happening.”
“Rena,” Aunt Franki said, finally speaking. “Honey, this is just a temporary arrangement and it’s definitely not your fault.”
I lifted my head, cocking a questioning brow at my father. “Temporary? How temporary?”
“I don’t know,” Dad said as he wrapped his hands around his mug. “Your mother and I need a little space right now. Things are just – well, they’re strained, sweetheart. We need to spend a little time apart.”
“But,” I said, frantically grasping at straws. “How is Mom supposed to get along alone? Who’s going to remind her to eat and stuff?”
“She’s an adult, Rena,” my father reminded me. “She can take care of herself.”
His words were bitter and I realized that maybe he’d grown tired of trying to get her to do something that didn’t involve Camille. But still, how could he abandon her?”
“Your mother will be fine,” Aunt Franki reassured me. “Jared promised to look in on her frequently.”
“Jared?!” I exclaimed. “Jared knows about all this?”
“Yes,” Dad said slowly, throwing worried looks at Aunt Franki. “I called him the night I moved out. I wanted him to check on your mother.”
“So, how come I’m just finding out now?” I demanded.
“I thought that we would have worked things out by now,” Dad explained. “I didn’t want to worry you – I know you have enough on your hands.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering about his last statement. “I have enough on my hands? What do you mean?”
“I know that you’ve taken Camille’s…disappearance rather hard,” Dad explained.
“I am handling it just fine,” I said, my teeth clenched. “I don’t need to be coddled. What I do need is to be told what is going on with my family.”
“Rena,” Dad said sternly. “Don’t get angry. You’re right, of course.”
He was humoring me, I could tell. And I didn’t like it in the least. Anger was swirling in my stomach and I figured it’d only be a short time before my anger-demon joined me. I had to escape before I opened my mouth and let hateful words out – words that I would never be able to take back. My family was screwed up enough without me contributing to it.
“Okay, fine,” I said, grimacing. “I’m just going to go to bed. I’m really tired.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Dad said, relaxing. He even offered me a smile. “I’m crashing on the sofa so we can talk more tomorrow if you’d like.”
I didn’t want to talk anymore because I didn’t think it would help. I mean, what could I possibly say that would convince my father to go home where he belonged? And even though I hated that he’d left my mother to fend for herself, I could almost see his point. She was a ghost of her former self – obsessed with her chat rooms and lost posters. Her life revolved around my sister’s disappearance and I was beginning to think that she’d forgotten she had a husband and two other children that still needed her.
But, I thought later as I flopped on the bed and stared at my ceiling, wondering how to stop my rapidly deteriorating life, I knew firsthand how difficult it was to live in that environment. I remembered only too well what it was like to tiptoe through the house, walking on eggshells and minding my words. Saying the wrong thing meant an emotional breakdown that affected everyone within close proximity.
Another thought crossed my mind – one just as terrifying as the demise of my family: What was I going to tell Fin? He was going to want answers when he called me Sunday afternoon and I needed to tell him something. Everything was just so crazy – my life, my family, even me. Why would Fin want to be involved?
No, I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t take the look in his eyes whether it be sympathetic or cautious. Maybe he’d rethink his decision to pursue me until I agreed to date him. Maybe he’d regret the little scene on the sofa in his basement – maybe even be disgusted by it.
“And maybe not,” I muttered, draping an arm over my eyes. “Maybe I ought to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
I frowned as I nodded, not caring that I was talking to myself. Hell, I was already going crazy, why not start jabbering aloud to no one in particular?
I sighed as I flopped to my side. I’d tell him that my parents separated – that was the truth – but I wouldn’t tell him the real reason – not yet anyway. I’d feed him information in small doses to see how well he digested it.
And if he didn’t take it well?
“Then I’ll just have to end it – spare him that task,” I sighed. He’d been so good to me, it was the least I could do.
Having settled one small facet of my life, I drifted off to sleep.
Twenty-Two
Dad was gone, naturally, when I woke the next morning. I shrugged it off, convincing myself that I really didn’t care, and slumped over a bowl of cereal. Aunt Franki tiptoed into the kitchen to pour coffee from the maker into a shocking pink mug. I watched her carefully from beneath my lashes and could tell she was fretting.
“Let me guess – an urgent call from work?” I said as I chased the last few pieces of cereal around my bowl.
“Yes,” Aunt Franki said slowly. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, rising to rinse my bowl in the sink. I shook out the excess water and stacked it in the dishwasher before turning to face her. “I didn’t actually think he’d still be here when I got up.”
“I know,” Aunt Franki said, desperation leaking into her voice. She set her mug on the counter. “But I know you really wanted to talk to him today. I know you were too upset last night to continue your discussion.”
“What’s left to discuss? There’s nothing I can say to change his mind. His decision’s been made,” I explained, matter-of-factly. I brushed past her before she could turn analytical or suggest that I call Roberta. I didn’t need any of that. I could deal with things myself.
She nodded. “I have to meet Sean in an hour. Will you be all right by yourself?”
“Of course,” I said, rolling my eyes, making her smile. Doubt lingered in her eyes but she disappeared to prepare for her meeting.
I returned to my room and booted up the laptop, ignoring the annoying reminder that it was a gift from my brother. I didn’t want to think of my family at that moment.
“Oh, hell,” I muttered as I dropped my head to my desk. “My family. That stupid essay.”
I banged my head on the desk for a couple more seconds, groaning. I got up and rooted through my backpack for the notes I’d scribbled Friday in Free Period. I opened up a word processing program on the laptop and started forming generic sentences that in turn formed generic paragraphs. I winced every single time I typed ‘great’, ‘wonderful’, and ‘happy’.
I plowed through the essay, forcing myself to keep plucking along, stopping only to answer my cell.
“Hey, beautiful,” Fin greeted, lifting my heart.
A tiny smile cracked the dour expression on my face. “Hey yourself. What’s up?”
“I’m s
tuck at my aunt’s place and I’m not sure when I’ll get back,” he said gravely. “Sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to see you today.”
My stomach turned over and I couldn’t tell if it was relief or disappointment. Maybe I needed the day off from him to figure out how much to tell him and when. Maybe I needed to clear my head.
“So, um, what did your dad want?” he asked.
Need to know only, I chanted inside my head. “It’s sort of a long story,” I said, biting my lip. I hoped he’d take the hint and let the matter drop but my hopes were in vain. He was far too inquisitive for his own good.
“I’ve got time,” he said, inserting a touch of humor. “My parents and my aunt and uncle just sat down to a rousing game of Parcheesi.”
“Par what?” I asked, temporarily distracted.
“It’s a board game,” he said with a chuckle. “An old one.” He cleared his throat and I prepared myself for the questions. “So, tell me.”
I moved to my bed, crawling up to the headboard. I plopped down and crossed my legs Indian style. “Well, see, it’s like this,” I said, stalling. I took a deep breath and bit the bullet. “My parents are separating.”
A pregnant pause filled the phone lines as I waited for his response. I knew his parents were older and probably didn’t approve of divorce. Not that my parents were divorcing – they just couldn’t. But still…
“I’m really sorry, Rena,” he said. “Um, that sucks and well…er… I don’t really know what to say here.”
I laughed although there wasn’t anything remotely amusing about the entire situation. But I couldn’t believe he was the one feeling a little awkward.
I stopped laughing, figuring I was probably confusing him. “It’s okay, honestly. I’ll deal.”
“Did this just happen suddenly or has it been, you know, coming on for a while?”
My heart twitched. “Um, well, things have been strained at home so I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise. It just – like you said – it just sucks.”
Another pause – this one a bit longer. I tapped my fingertips on my knee, drumming a rhythm. Maybe he didn’t want to get involved with all the drama of a girl whose family is falling apart. It hurt my heart to believe that – to imagine Fin as that uncaring. But then, maybe it was for the best.
“Hey, Rena, there’s not a whole lot I can do but I want you know that I’ll be here for you, if you need to talk to someone,” he said in a quiet voice.
My heart swelled as tears collected in my eyes. “Thanks, but I’m fine. It’s not a big deal, right?”
“It is a big deal,” he said. “I know it has to hurt. This isn’t something you should have to go through alone. Is there anyone that can help you with this?”
My pride reared its ugly head as disappointment made an appearance. Of course I figured he’d probably have heard about Roberta sitting with me at his practice and he’d probably heard whatever rumors were circulating about my mental status. But I didn’t need him suggesting that I needed counseling, too. Wasn’t he supposed to be on my side?
“I don’t need help, Fin,” I said stiffly. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Rena,” he pleaded. “I didn’t mean…”
“What did you mean?” I interrupted, a red fog in my brain. “You’ve obviously been talking to Gina, huh? And you believe her, too.”
“That’s not fair,” he said. “I mean, yeah, Gina mentioned something to me about Roberta Simmons, but I didn’t believe her.”
I snorted, all sense of rhyme or reason leaving me. My experiences in life – granted I had only been around for seventeen years – had shown me that when it comes to gossip, people generally want to believe the bad stuff. “If you say so.”
“Damn it,” he cursed. “Look, I didn’t believe her. I figured it was just another one of her attempts to get me to not date you anymore. And so what if you are seeing a counselor? I know sometimes people need help dealing with stuff. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in that.”
“I. Do. Not. Need. Help,” I stressed. My anger-demon, always at my side lately, bowed its head and growled, the hair on the back of its neck standing at attention. I was disheartened that he thought I wasn’t strong enough – that I was so weak. I couldn’t stand it.
“Okay, I didn’t want to say anything before,” he started. “But I think there’s no better time than the present. You’ve been different lately.”
“Different?” I exclaimed.
“Maybe that’s not the right word,” he amended. “It’s just that, sometimes you act as if you’re miles and miles away – that there’s something on your mind that hurts you. I’ve tried to get you to open up but you get defensive and pull away from me.” He paused to take a breath and I took that moment to calm my growing anger. “Rena, we haven’t been together long, I know, but I do like you and I…I do care about you. I know there’s so much more than just your parents’ problems going on and I want to help but you just won’t let me.”
“I don’t need help,” I said in a low voice, my control slipping and causing my hands to tremble.
“I think you do,” he said softly. “And I only say it because I care.”
“No, you say it because you believe everything that tramp, Gina, has to say. Or, maybe you’re embarrassed by all the rumors going around. Maybe you can’t stand that the entire school thinks I’m some drunken, screwed up kid. Maybe you’re regretting getting involved with me in the first place.”
“Not at all,” he said. It unnerved me how calm he seemed when my anger was fighting for total control of my body – and winning. “I don’t care what anyone says about you – hell, I’ve been defending you for as long as I’ve known you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need your chivalry. I’m not some helpless female stuck in a tower, waiting for a man to save her. I can take care of myself,” I said, my jaw aching from the tension.
“If you say so,” he said.
“I do say so,” I said, my voice rising. His steadiness only provoked my anger like waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. “So, just butt out.”
My chest heaved as I gripped the phone tighter in my hand, waiting for him to relent and admit that I didn’t need help.
But he didn’t. He sighed in defeat. “If that’s what you want.”
“I do,” came my clipped reply.
“Okay,” he said. “See you around.” And he hung up.
I hurled my phone across the room and it hit the ceramic ballerina on the topmost shelf making her spin haphazardly, as if performing a pirouette. I leapt from the bed, my hands cupped, ready to catch her should she fall. But she merely tottered before righting herself. I snatched it, cradling it in my hands as I slid to the floor, suddenly perspiring. I caught my breath and held the ballerina to my heart, fighting the tears that seemed to lurk in my eyes constantly. I trained my gaze on my desk, hoping it would chase away the tears, and I spotted the notebook propped against the pencil holder.
“That damn, stupid essay,” I said, grinding my teeth. Standing, I stalked to the desk, carefully placing the ballerina next to the lamp. I tossed the notebook to the ground as I sat in the chair and deleted every word I’d typed. I tapped the desk with my nails as words flew through my head – angry, honest words. My fingers hovered over the keyboard momentarily then took off as if they had a mind of their own.
Dear Mr. Ellis,
I apologize but I cannot do this stupid essay. I feel that every attempt I’ve made has been nothing but a big, fat lie. My family is not wonderful nor is it great and it certainly is not happy. I mean, what do you want me to say? Do you want the truth? Well, here is your truth!
My father is a spineless coward who hid from us all and eventually ran out on my mother when she needed him the most. He’ll say whatever I want him to say so long as he thinks it will make me happy.
Then my mom, well, I can almost see why Dad fled. It was horrible of him to leave her but on the other hand, she’s totally obsessed with her c
hat rooms and fund raisers. She doesn’t speak to us unless it’s about Camille. She never asks how my father’s day went or how school is going. She doesn’t even know that I have a boyfriend. Or had a boyfriend. But that’s a whole other essay. Oh, and another thing about Mother Dear, she kicked me out of her house just for speaking my mind. Can you believe that? Maybe I should have just left my mouth shut.
Let’s talk about Jared, my big brother. Where is he, you ask. Good question. He has made an attempt or two to connect with me but it’s never come to more than that. Yes, he did send me his old laptop but I’m beginning to wonder if it was just a sympathy gift.
And last but not least, there’s Camille. Dear, sweet little sister Camille. What to say? Well, she loved ballet, BoyzTown, and for some unfathomable reason, me. But I let her down. I bailed on her. I was selfish and thoughtless and now Camille is no more. Maybe it’s not just my fault this family is falling apart – maybe it’s partly her fault, too.
The tears were coursing down my cheeks but I didn’t bother trying to staunch their flow. Without thinking, I saved my ranting essay to my flash drive and shut down the computer. I eased the lid closed and stared at it for quite a while before deciding to shower. I needed to present a normal front to Aunt Franki or else she’d cart me off to Roberta immediately. And I didn’t want that. I wanted to prove – had to prove – to everyone that I was fine. Perfectly normal. And I wasn’t even lying to myself.
***
I arrived at school with just enough time to visit my locker and get to class. It was cowardly to avoid Fin that way but I wasn’t sure what our status was and I was in no mood to argue with him. Nor was I in any frame of mind to see him ignore me.
My morning classes dragged but I was able to avoid my locker as I’d been hauling all my morning books with me. I even managed to dodge Damon. But I had no clue what I was going to do for lunch. Maybe I could hang out in the parking lot…
“Dude, where have you been?” Damon asked as I drifted out of class, toward my locker to deposit my books.
“Class,” I muttered. I turned the combination lock to the right digits and opened the door. After I unburdened my books, Damon grabbed my shoulders and whirled me around, concern in his eyes.