The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  "No, ma'am. They are still at a fire."

  I was relieved. "Oh, okay. Any idea when they will be back?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "Okay, thanks." I hung up the phone.

  It was silly how formal firemen were while on duty, but I was glad that someone was there to tell me everything was all right. In my gut, things just didn't feel right when I woke up, but it was probably just because for the first time in many years I hadn't taken my medication. My portentous feelings were quickly replaced with anxious ones. I kept repeating the words I would say to Dean about Braedyn.

  I thought about leaving out stuff, but then decided that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right and expel everything. Instead of a physical cleanse, I was preparing for an emotional cleanse.

  Rather than going home, I went to the park down the street from our house. I sat on a bench set off to the side from the playground. There were several younger kids playing under the watchful eyes of their guardians. Some were moms, but there were also a couple of dads. Our park was pretty popular because it was new, so it wasn't out of the ordinary to see it busy at any given time of the day.

  This wasn't the first time I had come here alone while the kids were at school. At first, I thought it was ironic that I would crave some time alone and then I would end up going somewhere surrounded by kids. Later, I realized the reason I came here was because I was searching for something in my life that was missing.

  I watched as a dad pushed his little girl that looked to be about three on the swing. She giggled and shouted for her dad to make her go higher, so he obliged with a smile as big as hers. On the play equipment, a mom chased her son around. They both laughed as she playfully threatened to capture him in a tickle fest. They too seemed happy, unaffected by the worries of the people around them.

  I hated these people. I hated them for having what I always wanted. What I always needed. I hated them for knowing how to navigate around the dark corners of their minds while it swallowed me. I cried a lot at first when I came here, but like everything else in my life, I became oblivious to it... or maybe it was acceptance. After all, I was the one who made the choices that led me here. No one else was responsible. It was all me.

  Our life wasn't always so dismal. Before the burn out set in, Dean was happy when he came home from work, and I was some semblance of content. We still did things as a family. The time was short-lived though, and we had fallen into a dangerous routine that didn't include any alone or family time. We had neglected the importance of each other.

  I wanted to believe we still had a chance to fix things. If he transferred to a slower station where he could sleep at night instead of running calls continuously, or selling our house and moving to a more affordable place that didn't require him to work so much, or maybe even me working again. There were so many moments in our past that we chose the wrong path, but I had hope we could retrace our steps and follow a different one.

  When I returned to the house, I found myself falling into the same monotonous morning routine. I thought it would help, but it didn't, so I did something I hadn't done in years. I wrote. I rifled through the book shelves and found my journal I had written in before the kids were born. I headed out back to my favorite seat and opened it.

  My last entry was when I was pregnant with Drew. I had a hard pregnancy and an even harder time mentally. I was still taking medication, but at significantly lower doses and the hormones were counteracting any effect they were supposed to have. I had fallen into a pre-partum depression. Again, something that many passed off as baby hormones and didn't take seriously just like post-partum depression. The only thing that got me through his pregnancy was writing. The last entry was hard to read again.

  I still have six weeks to go, but I don't know if I'll make it. I'm tired, in pain, and just want this to be over. I don't even know if I want to be a mom or if I'll be a good mom. I can barely take care of myself. How the hell am I going to take care of a little human? What do I do if Dean is at work and I have a breakdown? I'm scared of what I might do. That's crazy to say, right? A good mother would never consider that she could hurt her child, would she? Every time I think about being alone with him I have a panic attack. And what about my life? Our life? Everything will be different. It will revolve solely around him. Will Dean love him more than me? Would I love him? Or even worse, would he be like me? Stricken with depressive episodes and panic attacks? After all, it was hereditary. He would suffer as I have.

  I cringed at the next line.

  Maybe I should save him from the same fate as me.

  The entry ended there. I remembered very clearly when I wrote that and why I didn't write anything after. I had succumbed to a horrific guilt for having any thoughts of killing my unborn child that I went to my parents' house to sleep it off under the protective eyes of their company. I had thrown the journal against the wall, which is why it had a split binding on the bottom.

  I flipped the page over and wrote the date on the top. I wrote down everything that I was going to tell Dean, so if I lost my nerve or couldn't find the right words, I could just let him read this. He knew I liked to write, but I never told him about my journals. Maybe it was time I shared that with him, too. Although, I was sure that last entry would scare the shit out of him. He would never want to leave me alone with our kids again.

  I started by writing everything about Braedyn from the first day I met him until the day he broke me. Then, I wrote about the suicide attempt. I never told him about it. It was one of my darkest secrets that I protected for fear that he would judge me like the hospital staff did. Even my parents. I always felt judged by my parents after that.

  ****

  College Years

  I wasn't released from the hospital for several weeks. I saw the world through a new set of foggy lenses. I had become dependent on the pills. I took the anti-depressants every day, but I was only supposed to take the anxiety meds as needed. I took them more often than that. Any time I felt the slightest bit of emotion, I popped a pill and erased it from existence.

  My parents told Kylie what happened, assuming we were still besties. I was livid with them. She came over the night I came home from the hospital. When I opened the door and saw her standing there, I had the sudden urge to kick her in the throat, especially after she smiled like everything was normal.

  "What's wrong, Len? You look pissed," she said as she pushed past me into the house.

  I thought about tripping her. Maybe she would chip a tooth on the tile when she fell.

  I needed a pill.

  "I'll be right back." I went into my bathroom and grabbed a bottle off of the counter. I poured a pill in my hand and washed it down with a sip of water. Several prescription bottles were laid out on my counter. My mom wanted to make sure I didn't forget to take them. She said if they were out of sight they might be out of mind. I picked them up and hid them inside the counter drawer. The last thing I needed was for Kylie to see all of these and report back to Dean that I had lost my mind.

  I rejoined her in the living room where she was plopped in front of the television. "What are you doing here?" I asked harshly.

  "Easy, tiger. I'm your friend. Why wouldn't I be here?"

  Was she really going to skate around the truth? "Stop the act, Kylie. I know about you and Dean. I saw you guys together."

  She jumped off of the couch like a lion pouncing on its unsuspecting prey. "Whoa, friend. Be careful what you accuse someone of before you know the whole truth."

  She stopped suddenly and started turning white.

  "Oh my God, Len. You thought Dean and I were... And then you tried to... Oh my God, Len. I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry."

  She ran over to me and smothered me in her embrace. She started crying on my shoulder. What the hell was happening? I was the one who should be crying. I pushed her off of me.

  "I don't understand."

  "Len, he was trying to recruit me to get you two back together. That's why I
was hanging out with him. He was trying to get to you through me."

  I started shaking my head violently in disbelief. The sheer realization of what I could have done finally hit me. I would have killed myself over a misunderstanding. I was mortified at the thought.

  "Lenny, are you okay?"

  I put my hands over my ears as if that would block out the stark truth. I started hyperventilating. Kylie grabbed me around the waist and sat me on the couch while yelling for my parents. I was losing grasp of reality quickly, and the pills weren't helping.

  I'm not sure what happened after that. I hadn't physically blacked out, but they said I had a psychotic break. Great. I was officially a psycho. Awesome.

  I was placed on suicide watch again, but this time it was at home, thankfully. I could tell the concern over my mental health was growing in my parents. No one in either of their families had suffered from this, so they were at a loss of what to do. They followed the doctor's instructions to the tee.

  Needless to say, I didn't start school at any university that fall. I spent the fall and winter finding my hold on reality again. I basically sat home and watched TV or wrote crazy stories. That was when my writing passion really started solidifying its place in me.

  My stories were different, raw, and beautiful. I didn't need to be a part of the world outside when I had my own worlds inside. It was funny that it took me traveling to the realities in my stories to find my place back in my own reality. The escape had calmed my confused head. The writing allowed me to release feelings of distrust, anguish, disappointment... you name it.

  By early spring, I was ready to leave the past six months of my life behind and start over. Starting with Dean.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I felt disoriented in the world after being in self-inflicted isolation for so long. Kylie had visited me a few times filling me in with mindless gossip about old friends from school and her latest conquest. It was nice to hear about other people's problems. It made me feel less like a freak.

  She came over to reintroduce me to the big, bad world. It was kind of funny. She and my parents treated me like a fragile newborn that would break if dropped.

  I was actually the opposite. I felt stronger than I had felt in years. I was ready to move out and start the local university in the fall. Kylie offered to move out with me. I knew it wasn't easy for her to make that sacrifice since she was so comfortable at home, but no one was willing to leave me to my own devices at this point.

  We were in my bedroom getting ready to go to the movies. During my months of reflection, there was something that nagged at me. Something I had wanted to ask Kylie for a long time.

  "Hey, Kylie?" I asked timidly. Our friendship was still mending, so I was afraid to pull at any strings that would make the whole thing unravel.

  "Yeah?" she asked as she looked up from the trash magazine she was super involved in.

  I fidgeted nervously with my fingers, pulling at the skin around my nails.

  "What's wrong, Len?"

  I could hear the uneasiness in her voice.

  "I've been wanting to ask you something. Actually, a few things." This was going to turn into one of those long heart-to-heart moments, and I could see by the look on her face that she knew it, too. She put down her magazine and gave me her undivided attention.

  "Okay, shoot."

  She was trying to keep the mood light.

  "Why did you drug me at Luke's house that night?" I didn't realize how good it would feel to finally ask her.

  "Oh. Umm. Wow, okay, so we're going back to that." She shifted around as she tried to spit out the words. "Honestly? I don't know. I wanted us to have a good time together, and I thought that would help loosen you up. It was stupid, and I have felt bad about it every day since. I'm sorry, Len."

  I believed her. It wasn't like I thought she did it maliciously, but I just didn't understand why. Her answer was reasonable. At the time, we had grown apart, and I had become more reserved, not letting go. I guess uptight would be a better name for it. Not that what she did was okay, but it was in the past and now that we talked about it, I could let it go.

  "What were the other things?"

  "I guess just one more thing."

  "Okay, give it to me."

  "The night I tried to drown myself I had driven by Dean's house on my way to see you, and I saw you leaving." She cut me off.

  "Len, I already told you that he was trying to get back with you and using me to do it."

  "I know, but..." I couldn't seem to find the right words. "When you guys hugged, it just seemed like it was more." She looked away shamefully. My heart sank. I was right. I wasn't as crazy as I thought, but I wasn't mad anymore. I just wanted the truth, so I could move on.

  "I won't break from the truth, Ky. You owe me it."

  When she looked back at me, her cheeks glistened from the tears streaming down.

  "I'm so sorry, Len. It was just one kiss. He was lonely, and I was desperate for affection. It was one stupid moment that meant nothing."

  The pills were doing their job, because I didn't cry and I didn't yell, but a faint ache rubbed up against my chest. Imagining Dean kissing anybody else was hard enough, but kissing my best friend was painful. I couldn't say anything.

  I walked to my open window and stared out at the clear dark sky. I wanted the truth and I got it. Now I needed to let it process and digest, so I could let it go and start a fresh beginning.

  I knew that the success of a relationship with Dean relied on starting over with no baggage. To start over as if we had never been together. To erase the four years of our lives together. I wanted to be with him forever, and I was willing to forget to have that future with him.

  "Are you okay?" Kylie asked warily.

  "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for telling me."

  "Are we okay?"

  "Yeah, Ky. We're good." And I wasn't lying. Binge and purge. Binge on all of the memories and then purge them forever. "Let's go."

  I didn't have my license back yet, so Kylie drove. I hadn't been in her car since the accident. It was weird. Her mom had replaced her totaled car with the exact same kind to avoid the embarrassment of the accident. Her parents were socialites, so they swept a lot of things under the rug. This was only one of many they had to hide with Kylie. She took rebelling to a whole new level, although it seemed like she was trying to change. To finally become an adult.

  I was twenty-one now. I had missed my birthday in my state of mental unrest. Kylie wanted to make it up to me by taking me to the movies and then out for a drink. Probably not the smartest thing to do with the medication I was on, but the doctor had assured me that one drink would be okay, but to be cautious.

  When we pulled up to the movie theatre, the memory of mine and Dean's first kiss flashed through my head.

  It was one for the books. Literally. It was full of all the exciting sexual tension you hope for in a first kiss. I was expelling, so this was one of many moments I would erase. I could only get rid of the bad if I was willing to get rid of the good, too.

  We saw a light-hearted funny comedy. It felt good to laugh again. There were even moments I laughed so hard I cried. I was having fun in spite of the medication. Maybe I could feel something after all.

  After the movie, we headed to a local hang out. It was a fun little coffee shop that played Top Forty music and served alcoholic drinks, too. It was a nice concept, and it had caught on in our small town where there wasn't much to do as a young adult. I heard it was popular in Europe.

  I would love to travel to Greece sometime. It looked so beautiful and peaceful in the pictures. Maybe one day and I would visit one of these little coffee shops there also.

  It was Friday night, and the place was packed with adults my age all the way up to late forties. There were always sugar daddies looking for young women to pick up. After the bouncer checked our IDs, Kylie grabbed my hand protectively and pushed us through the crowd to reach the bar. I stood behind her as she ordered us d
rinks.

  The music was inviting and loud. It made me want to dance, but I wasn't sure anybody could dance with everyone squashed in like sardines. I scanned the room and noticed there was a dance floor on the far end of the room. Lots of bodies moved together to the beat of the music. I felt a pang of jealousy remembering how dancing and music made me feel when I succumbed to the energy it produced.

  Kylie handed me my drink and snatched my free hand. She was a pro at getting through crowds without pissing off anyone. She spotted someone vacating a table against the wall close to the dance area, and she rushed us over. She put her drink down as another girl was trying to sit down. I looked at the person attached to her arm and almost passed out from sensory overload. It was Dean.

  "Excuse me. We were here first!" she yelled over the music.

  Dean leaned in and whispered something into her ear quickly. She looked at me and backed up.

  "You know what, never mind. We were going to dance anyway."

  Kylie squeezed my hand gently. I looked up at Dean. I'm not sure what my face was telling him because I was in a fog, but the look on his face told me it pained him as much as seeing him with another girl pained me.

  He walked away with the girl without saying a word.

  "Shit, Len. I'm sorry. That's not what I wanted to happen on your first night out. We can go," she said as she started to pull me away from the table.

  "No, it's okay." I didn't know if it really was, but I was going to have to deal with this at some point, so there was no reason to avoid it now. It hurt like hell, but if we were meant to be together, we would be. I had to hold onto that or else I would fall apart again. Hope was all I had to survive on now.

  I downed half of my vodka and diet drink and settled in the chair. As hard as I tried, I couldn't help but be drawn to where Dean was. He had chosen the farthest spot from us. I could tell he was just as uncomfortable with the situation as I was. We had been together long enough that I had all his mannerisms memorized. When he felt out of place, he leaned on a nearby wall and stared at the ground, or if he didn't have a wall to hold up, he stood with his hands inside his pockets. He was fortunate that there was a free spot against the doorframe leading to the bathroom. Not fortunate for me. With the way I had chugged the rest of my drink, I was going to need to walk that way soon enough.