Regret Me Not

by Danielle Sibarium

  "Brayden, please," I try to turn him around. "I didn't mean it." I can't go through with it. I can't hurt him like this. He looks so sad and broken. "Please, look at me."

  He shakes his head, picks up the frame holding the picture of us and punches it. Hard. I gasp as shattered glass sprays the area around us. Brayden pulls his hand away from the broken frame and towards him. He's bleeding. I see tiny shards of glass sticking out from his skin. I reach for his hand and start to pry the pieces out, but he breaks free of my grip.

  "Don't touch me." He growls. "Don't ever touch me again."

  Brayden promised it would be okay, and I know in those first few moments that it’s going to be anything but okay. I've never seen him like this and I know I succeeded in severing the bond between us. I don't think we can ever come back from this.

  *

  Brayden's holding the steering wheel with one hand, the other is wrapped in a t-shirt. I don't bother to ask if it hurts, I know he won't answer. He hasn't spoken to me since it happened.

  "I think you should go to the hospital and get it checked out."

  He ignores me.

  "I'm serious, Brayden. What if you need stitches?"

  Still nothing.

  "It's your throwing hand. What if you can't play?"

  "Then I have you to thank for it. I can look back years from now and know where ever I am in life, it's because I was dumb enough to love you."

  He shut me up. Anyone listening in would believe the anger in his reaction is justified. No one would read deeper into why he chose those exact words. Only I know how well prepared and calculated they are. Brayden's words were carefully strung together to hurt, no to mutilate me. He knew out of all the things he could say, out of all the names he could possibly call me, those words would have the greatest impact. Tears sting my eyes, but I won't let him see me cry. He knows he hurt me; I don't have to show him how much.

  Brayden stretches his arm out and with the tip of his barely showing pointer finger, presses a button on the dashboard, putting the radio on. The music blasts through the speakers at an ear splitting decibel, making me cringe. I'm afraid my eardrums are going to bleed it's so loud. We can't speak even if I want to, which I do; if I could only think of something to say. We continue driving for a little over an hour in silence. I reach over and lower the volume as he pulls up in front of my house. He remains quiet wanting to prove he doesn't have anything to say. But I do.

  "Are you going home, or back to school?"

  He stares out the driver's side window, not answering.

  "Please get your hand checked out. I'm worried about you."

  "No." He looks at me, his lips turn up into a sneer. I've never seen this side of him and I don't like it.

  "I love you."

  "Get out!" His voice booms.

  I have to get out of the car. I'm going to lose it. My resolve is breaking, it's shattering like frozen glass. Any second now I'm going to melt into a puddle of tears. I don't want this. I can't deal with him hating me. It hurts too much. I love him. Maybe it takes him hating me to realize how much I want him back in my life. I long to feel his reassuring arms around me, convincing me everything will be fine. I will him to whisper that he's okay and I'm strong enough to handle this, to handle anything that comes our way. He should know what I want, what I need.

  "Go," he says in a low, but angry tone.

  I step out of the car and take one final look at him. I want to tell him I'm sorry; I want to explain how frightened I am. I know he'll understand if I can find the words. But the look on his face silences me. I did everything I could to avoid him feeling this way about me. And here it is, the final nail smashing into the wooden box encasing our love; preparing it to be buried away, deep underground. Forever.

  Instead of saying anything I shut the door, turn and head for my house.

  His tires screech as his car pulls away. He doesn't even wait for me to get in. I live in a safe neighborhood, but he never leaves before I make my way into the house. I punch the code in the keypad on the side of the garage door, hoping my parents are sleeping. I don't want to have to talk about the dance or Brayden, or why he didn't bother to come in.

  If I'm lucky, no one heard the garage door open. I look around; my mother's car is on one side, my sister's on the other. Since I'm the only one driving her car these days, I think its a good place to hide. I climb in and plan to cry until I run out of tears. By that time my parents will be in a deep sleep. They won't wait up for me. They don't have to, they save their energy for Jessica.

  Chapter 3

  Back to the Beginning

  Alone in the backseat of Jessica's car I search for the box of tissues I keep there. Finding it, I curl up into the fetal position and cry. How the hell did I destroy everything good in my life, when all I wanted was to keep it from destroying me?

  My mind drifts back to the beginning. Back to the first time Brayden and I speak. Back to the first time I push him away.

  *

  Scott Stevens, running back and resident hottie of Liberty High School has a funnel in his mouth as his buddies stand around him and pour the beer.

  "Chug. Chug. Chug," is chanted throughout the basement.

  Scott finally comes up for air, shakes his head like a dog wet from the rain, and reaches for me. He pulls me to him and sticks his tongue down my throat while grabbing my ass with both hands. He presses his hips against me, grinding, simulating things he's been trying to get me to agree to for the last week. His friends cheer him on. I shove him off, that's when the jeering and laughing start. To my relief, it's directed at him, not me.

  "Come back here," he orders somewhat playfully. Although he smiles at me, I can see something dark and serious in his glassy, blue eyes. He yanks me back by the wrist, and tries to pick-up where he left off.

  I break his hold and shove his chest. "You're an ass."

  I make my way through the parting crowd with ease, climb the stairs and walk out the front door. I hope to find someone outside for fresh air or a smoke. Anyone I vaguely know that I could ask for a ride home. I don't want to have to go back in and search for my best friend, who would have followed me out if she wasn't busy in one of the upstairs bedrooms with her boyfriend.

  The wind whips through the air making me wish I wore a sweatshirt instead of the thin top I have on. Scott is such a jerk around his friends, but I feel safer in the public venue than I do with his groping hands and suction cup lips when we're alone. It's time to break up. I only agreed to go out with him because Olivia thought it would be fun to date friends. She lucked out with Josh, he's normal, a real boyfriend. He's interested in more than getting her clothes off. I've witnessed how nauseating and sweet they are constantly talking or texting throughout the day. And he actually takes her places, like skating or the movies. The only place Scott looks to take to me is a party or a bedroom.

  "You okay?" I hear a voice call.

  I turn around and recognize Brayden Turner standing in front of me. He's a god at our school. Not only is he gorgeous and the starting quarterback of the football team, he's an A student. The geeks like him, the jocks idolize him, he's an all-around good guy.

  "Yeah, I'm wonderful, just trying to get away from one of your minions."

  He smiles, a tooth showing smile and drops his eyes, looking shy and innocent. How could anyone look that demure when only minutes ago he had a cheerleader draped over him. Brayden might not be as innocent as he looks, but wow, that smile puts the stars to shame.

  "They're just excited about the win. It's the first time our team ever destroyed those guys."

  The party is a victory celebration. The football team won the first game of the season against a rival the next town over. I rub my hands over opposite arms, while bouncing up and down trying to fight the chill in the air.

  "I guess I should be lucky he wasn't trying to do shots off my chest."

  Brayden looks off to the side and laughs. "Give him time, a few more drinks and he might try tal
king you into it."

  "I'd rather not!" I roll my eyes. "It was a good game. You were terrific, as usual."

  Again Brayden's soft, brown eyes fall to the ground. For a big tough football player, he sure seems out of sorts with attention. I wonder why I never noticed that before. Probably because this is the first conversation we ever had. He stays in his popular circle of jocks and mindless girls bowing down to him, while I keep my distance, and stay far away with the general population.

  "I couldn't have done it without the team. And your guy, he was like lightning today." He says pulling his sweatshirt over his head and offering it to me.

  "My guy?" I don't like the sound of that. "I think he's more your guy than my guy." If I don't like Scott all that much and I don't want people to associate us together, what the hell am I doing with him? Another reason to expedite the break up.

  "Won't you be cold?" I ask as I accept the sweatshirt and put it on.

  "Nah, I'm used to the cool temperature. Every day my father has me outside taking snaps from the center machine . . ."

  "I'm sorry," I interrupt, as I reach in my jeans pocket for my vibrating phone. Its my father. That's strange. He dropped me off at school for the game. He knew I planned for Scott to drive me home. Unless he forgot. That's it. He must have gotten himself so worked up worrying about my sister Jessica, that he forgot all about me. What else is new? At least I could ask him to come pick me up.

  "Hey. What's up?"

  I don't hear any sound come from his end of the call, not right away. It's not a butt dial; he carries his phone in a case on a clip. The first thing I hear sounds like a whimper. "Mackenzie, I need you . . ." He pauses. My stomach slams to the ground below me as I understand he's trying to compose himself. "Jess is in the hospital. She overdosed." His voice is broken up and emotional. So much so I can't tell if he's crying.

  "Ohmigod, where?" My eyes fly up and meet Brayden's. I shrink into his sweatshirt, the chill getting the best of me once again.

  My hand covers my mouth as the call ends and I pull the phone away from my ear. Holy shit. How could she throw her life away like this? How could she be so weak and broken up over a guy? A stupid, asshole guy?

  Brayden takes a step toward me and cuts to the chase. "What's wrong?"

  At least he's smart enough not to play the "Is everything okay," game. I don't want to get into it, don't want to explain that my sister tossed her life in the crapper since breaking up with her boyfriend in the spring. Of course she doesn't think he was just a boyfriend, she claims he's the love of her life.

  Jessica followed Mike from New Jersey to Ohio State University and upon finding him having sex with someone else in their apartment, came home with her head hanging, like a beaten dog.

  The asshole couldn't let her go either. He dangled her from a string, talking to her, texting her, speaking to her on the phone or through Skype every freaking day. He claimed he wanted to work things out. And what was the reason he gave for cheating? Not that she's a bitch or that he didn't love her anymore. No. That wasn't it at all. He cheated because he loved her, because she's all he knew.

  "What if we get married and I hurt you later on because I'm missing out on the person I'm supposed to be with?" I overheard him on their video call one night.

  And she bought into his load of crap and kept talking to him. I can't believe she didn't tell him to fuck off. At least that's how she made it seem. When she signed off, she grabbed her keys and left without a word to the rest of us, like we were the ones she had a reason to be pissed at. That's how she handled things before my parents knew there was a problem, before they halted every important part of their life to keep tabs on her.

  Worried, I waited up most nights for Jess to come home, in case she needed to talk. She never did. She came home so shit-faced, she could barely form coherent sentences. Half the time I couldn't tell if she was drunk, stoned, or both. I only knew she wasn't the strong self-assured sister I looked up to my whole life.

  The morning we found her car parked sideways on the lawn, my parents bought a clue. My father took away her car keys thinking that would end her partying spree. She still found a way to get around; new friends.

  I heard rumors about her. I heard them everywhere I went. People pointed and stared at me. They whispered loud enough for me to hear, "Did you hear about the sister? She'll sleep with anyone willing to give her a hit." or, "I hear twenty bucks with the older one buys you half an hour of anything you want."

  I didn't believe what I heard. I couldn't. Not my sister, she wouldn't do the things they accused her of. I didn't believe one word until I saw how low and desperate she was for myself.

  My father and I went grocery shopping for my mother, and we saw Jess outside the store, propositioning some punk, ass-wipe. She offered to blow him for heroine. I stood frozen as my father dragged her by the hair into the car. My feet wouldn't move until he called out to me pulling me from my stupor. I still can't believe that was my sister, a girl willing to sell herself for a fix. Embarrassed, I hid my face as my father drove home. All night my heart raced and I found it hard to breathe. Anxiety settled into my chest every time I heard a car pass our house. I thought for sure someone took our license plate and called the cops. I expected them to come arrest my dad for child abuse.

  "Hey, Kenzie, are you alright?"

  Brought back to the moment, I acknowledge Brayden and nod my head. "I just . . . I have to get to the hospital."

  "Did you drive here?"

  I shake my head, "No. I came with Scott."

  "He's in no condition to drive. C'mon, I'll take you," Brayden says already heading for his car.

  I follow close behind ignoring the fact that before this night Brayden and I hadn't spoken a word to each other and here I am getting into his car without a second thought. As he presses the button on the fob to unlock the doors I hesitate.

  "Do you want me to get Scott to come with us?"

  I shake my head. I don't need to think about it. I'd rather be alone in a dark cave with Brayden than in the car with Scott. "No, but are you sure you want to take me? I mean won't they miss you?"

  "Nah," he says already in the car. "They'll be happy I'm not here."

  "I'm sure your girlfriend won't be happy." I say, glad to keep the direction of the conversation focused on him rather than on why I need to get to the hospital.

  An amused sound comes out of his mouth. "Just for the record, if you're talking about Alana, she's not my girlfriend. Honestly, I'm glad to have an excuse to get away from her. And the guys won’t mind at all. I'm more like a chaperone to them." He says starting the engine. "I make sure they don't get too carried away with anything."

  "Like what?"

  "Drinking and driving, or getting out of hand with the girls."

  "Is that why you came outside? To see if I was alright?"

  "Maybe. Coach and I made a deal, I keep them in line and he gets the college scouts to the games."

  "Sounds fair."

  He shrugs. "Whatever. I try to do my part." He doesn't seem like he wants to talk about it any further, so I let it drop. Big mistake. "Can I ask what happened?"

  I should've known he'd ask eventually.

  "Why do you care?" I snap. "You think it'll make good gossip so you're trying to get the inside scoop?"

  "Whoa, where did that come from?" He shakes his head. "I'm not part of the rumor mill. You just look like you need a friend right now."

  "A friend? You're not my friend. Before tonight you never spoke a word to me. You didn't even know I existed."

  I know it's wrong to lash out at him. I should be grateful that he's taking me to the hospital, but I can't control my emotions. Including the irrational anger I feel clouding my head.

  He mumbles something under his breath I can't make out.

  "What was that? You have something to say? Spill it."

  "I said this is the reason we never spoke, but I definitely knew you existed."

  I don't know if I shou
ld yell at him or ask what he means. It comes so natural to push everyone away, to hide behind my wall of anger and antagonism since Jessica came back home that I don't know anything different.

  He pulls up to the emergency room entrance and lets me out. "I'll be in as soon as I find a parking spot."

  "You don't have to. Since you didn't think I was worth talking to before, I wouldn't want you to feel obligated to be around me." I turn and walk away, hating myself. Why the hell can't I just say thank you?

  *

  Brayden finds me sitting by myself in the plastic seats of the waiting area. My sister hasn't been admitted yet, but it's just a matter of time. My parents are in the back with her and the nurse manning the desk won't let me in. That's fine by me. I don't want to see Jessica anyway. I don't think I could find it in me to lie to her and tell her everything is going to be all right. It's not. I don't think it ever will be again.

  I look over as Brayden fills the empty seat next to me. Funny, his shoulders look so big and wide when he has all his gear on. As I meet his golden brown eyes, he doesn't look so tough.

  "Thank you for driving me."

  He nods.

  "I'm sorry I snapped at you before. I should've just said thank you."

  He reaches for the hand on my knee, covers it with his own and gives a squeeze.

  "Do you want me to text Scott?"

  "Why?"

  "So he doesn't worry about you?"

  "He probably doesn't even know I'm gone."

  "Then he's an idiot."

  "Is this part of you taking care of the team? I mean am I now under that umbrella because I'm with Scott? Is that why we're suddenly friends?" I keep trying to clarify so he understands I'm just curious, I don't meant to be snarky or sarcastic, but no matter how hard I try, the words don't seem to come out right.

  Brayden chuckles, his chest moving, while those brown eyes take me in with humor and curiosity. I didn't realize I had a thing for brown eyes before I took a good look into his.

  "You want to be under my umbrella of protection?" he teases. "Do you want me to watch your every move?" He raises his eyebrow playfully.