This is my life. Desperation. Fear. Anger. Disgust. This is all I feel.
I don’t remember what woke me, but I wake up startled in the dark room. My big sister is sleeping a few feet away in her matching purple covered bed. I can hear her deep breathing. That shouldn’t have woken me. I think of crawling into bed with her because I am a little scared. I'm afraid of the dark now. What woke me? I think seriously about crawling into bed with Avery. She won’t mind, I think as I finally get the courage to leave the shelter of my blankets, and then I freeze. I see him in the dark, standing at the foot of our beds, staring down at us from the shadows. I try to pretend that I am still asleep, hoping he will go away. I can’t stop shaking. Squeezing my eyes shut, I begin to beg God that he will just go away. I am so afraid. My mommy said my new daddy sleepwalks and that is why he visits our room in the middle of the night, but I don’t know if I believe her. She lies too much. I don’t trust her.
And with the look on his face, it doesn’t seem like he is sleeping.
Startling awake, I sit up in bed, listening to the dark. What woke me? Suddenly worrying my nightmare will become a reality. Breathe. Just breathe.
My fear is interrupted by a chime on my phone.
Did you find it?
Confused and half asleep, I reply to the private number that I assume is one of Reed’s. I am thankful that he pulled me out of my nightmare and saddened at the realization that he will never know how much I appreciate the interruption. Or why …
Find what?
You’ll know when you see it. You might find it in your purse though :)
I scramble to my dresser in the dark to empty my purse, and at the bottom, I find a small envelope. I open it to find another handwritten letter, in the most awful writing I have ever seen. I laugh quietly, but I am also filled with joy. Honestly, how did teachers not correct his penmanship?
I hoped you would read it and dream of me
You succeeded
TTYL My blue eyed girl.
I read the letter while smiling, thinking how my life at home is drifting even further away from my life at school. A chasm of lies spans the two. I don’t know whom Reed likes more, me or the mask I wear to hide the painful truth. Hiding my secrets has been the longest bad habit I’ve had. I don’t know how not to keep people at a distance. The thought brings tears to my eyes, even as I try to ignore it.
I’ll thank him for the latest letter after Thanksgiving break …
I wake up to an empty house—or I thought it was empty until I turn the corner to the kitchen to see my older brother and sister talking outside. Ryan is smoking a cigarette, leaning against the patio swing Avery is sitting on. They are speaking urgently, their faces close together conspiratorially. I walk out the door, and they freeze, fear clouding their eyes until they realize it’s just me.
“What’s wrong?” I hold my breath, fearing the worst.
“What’s right?” Ryan retorts with bitterness, shifting his body slightly away. It’s then that I notice the hand-size bruise on his bicep and his split lip. I stare in shock and remorse, knowing all too well the cause of his injuries.
Although his motions are stiff, he looks at me with a defiant, unbeatable look in his eyes. “You knew it was only a matter of time. Better me than you girls …” My big brother, always standing guard. A part of my heart breaks for him, but at the same time, I am thankful. To my shame, I can’t even count the times Mark was coming after me when Ryan would step between us. Even as a little boy, he would try to protect us and Mom, even if it meant he would get hurt.
Mark has always resented him for trying to protect us. I remember once Mark beat Ryan with a wooden cutting board so hard and for so long it snapped in two. I recall his crying with devastating clarity. He was barely over ten years old.
At twenty-two years old, he’s the bravest man I know. For as defiant as he appears to me, I know different. We know that Mark has broken him down slowly and painfully over time. We know by the fresh cuts on his inner arm, by the near constant state of inebriation he seems to be in, and by the haunted, desperate look in his eyes.
We all look at each other in silence, knowing that this has to end but being helpless to end it. What can the three of us do? We are stuck in a nightmare we can’t escape. Ryan refuses to leave us girls alone with Mark, even though he is old enough to be on his own. Avery just started college but hasn’t been able to save enough money to move out because she is basically raising our little sister. With each day that passes, we grow more desperate with fear. Sometimes you break to the point that you can’t be fixed, and as I look around at each of my siblings, I realize we passed that point years ago.
“We can't keep this up much longer,” I whisper my thoughts without any expectation that they might be heard.
Ryan nods his head, “We need to make some sort of plan for you girls. Some way for you both to get out.” I look at him startled at his response before Avery and I look at one another in surprise. Where did that come from? Is it possible to escape this life we've been subjected to? Is it possible to have hope that life could somehow change?
All we can do now is try to survive. The question is, whom do we tell? Should we finally tell our dad? The police? Or do we make empty threats, hoping to alleviate the difficult situation we are facing? No, that would never work. Mark would completely lose it, and I wouldn’t want to be there to see it. The retribution would be far worse.
People always think it's so easy to report abuse. That it is simple, but the truth is that nothing is simple when people you love will be hurt in the crossfire. No decision is without its violent consequences in my home.
It’s a lot to think on.
As Thanksgiving break passes and we endure daily torment. Arguments, punishment, fear. Constantly on guard, we feel for the first time, in a very long time, an underlining feeling of hope that maybe we can escape somehow. We don’t speak of it, but we share it every time our eyes lock across a room. Every time Mark raises his voice at the table, there is an electric current running between us, keeping us strong. Hope can be a dangerous thing when you have had nothing but disappointment. I hope it doesn’t do more damage than good in the end.
By the end of Thanksgiving break, I’m worried that I had read all the signals wrong. I haven’t seen her for a week, and I feel like I’m restless in my own skin. I know I shouldn’t be, that it is wrong to feel like this, but I can’t seem to help it. I try to distract myself by spending every minute with my dad, helping him redo our yard. Building the fence, planting bushes, and being outside do help, but my mind seems to wander of its own accord, always to a pair of blue eyes.
This is what insanity feels like. This is what clingy girls do. Get it together, Reed. What the hell?
She is not going to want anything to do with you if you toe the fine line of crazy. I step inside the house and see my sister at the table with her laptop, her black hair tied up in a knot on her head. My sister and I look absolutely nothing alike, but our shared sense of humor makes it obvious that we are siblings. My sister has my dad’s dark skin and black hair, but I take after my mom’s side, looking just like my grandpa with my light-brown hair and green eyes. Rochelle and I are polar opposites in just about every way except one: our family is the most important thing to both of us. Family is everything, and although the move is hard and missing my friends is hard, I could never leave my family.
Not looking up from her MacBook when I come in, she is obviously waiting for the explanation of my sour attitude. Well, I don’t feel like giving her any. I know what is inevitably coming, and I brace myself for it. As much as I love my sister, she has always been able to get on my last nerve when she wants something.
“What has been your problem this week?” There’s no inflection in her tone, but I can tell she is deadly serious. If I don’t placate her soon, it will start an argument.
Not that I care, so I answer with a shrug, muttering something like “None of your business.”
“
Well, it is when you treat everyone like garbage.” She finally looks up; she has always had a short fuse. Although my sister is only a year older, she seems to think she is somehow wiser and deserves an explanation. Not true. Or else we are both equally stubbornly looking for an argument. Probably the latter.
We have an older brother Austin who got married to a girl right out of high school. Rochelle and I have always been close. My older brother has kept more to himself, while Rochelle and I were always friends with the same group of people in our hometown, so we would spend a lot of time outside the house with each other and our mutual friends. It tends to blur the lines on the boundaries of our relationship. Are we friends? Are we siblings? Sometimes it leans one way or another, given the circumstances. Right now, I can tell she wants to be my big sister and tell me what to do. So I will gladly be the annoying little brother who gets under her skin for the fun of it.
“It’s nothing.” I look away so she doesn’t see the confusion I feel.
She scoffs. “You’re full of it. What happened? School not going so well? Girl problems?”
I look over at her quickly before I can catch myself. Crap! I gave myself up. It’s not that I have ever kept anything from my family; I’m just not sure I am ready to talk about this to Ro.
“Ha! It is a girl! Soooo who is she? Is she your girlfriend? When can we meet her?” Talking a mile a minute is a quirk Ro has always had. It would be funny if she weren’t shooting her questions at me.
“Just a friend. We haven’t talked much this week.” I didn’t really know what else to say, but I sat down across from her and looked at her. I have never in my life asked my sister for advice, but maybe she is the perfect person to give it to me. She’s a girl, so she might be able to give me some pointers.
“I guess I just miss her.” I take a large drink of water and wait for her advice or criticism … or something.
“Don’t. Don’t be that guy. That guy that is whinny and clingy … No girl wants that.” She shakes her head, tilting it to the side in disappointment.
“I’m not!” I say, although I’m not so sure. “She hasn’t texted much, and she hasn’t mentioned wanting to see me this week. I’m starting to think she’s not interested. Should I ignore her?” That doesn’t seem right either, but it is a classic response.
“No, don’t play games either. Just be cool. Maybe she is busy. You don’t know why she isn’t texting or asking to see you. When you see her Monday, just play it casual. Be calm; don’t be weird.” She laughs while going back to her computer, probably Facebook.
“Thanks, Ro. Big help you are.”
I breath in deeply, thinking over my own anxiety, wondering what is bugging me so badly. Am I really that insecure? I am being ridiculous, and I hate it. Just be normal.
So when Monday finally comes, I am a ball of nerves, but I keep repeating, “Be normal” in my head like a mantra. When I see her sitting next to her friends at her usual spot, I take a chance and beeline it to her table before I chump out.
Be. Normal.
“This seat taken?” I pause, sliding into the chair and waiting for her to turn while holding my breath. The look she gives me is surprised but not necessarily happy. Did I totally screw this up? I break out in sweat, but then she smiles brightly and leans toward me slightly. Nice!
“Nope, all yours. How was your break?” she asks, giving me another warm smile.
My heart warms a little, and the anxiety I feel drains away slowly. Maybe I was worried for nothing.
“It was loud,” I say, hoping my response wasn’t awkwardly delayed. “My family is really big, and a lot of them flew out to see our new house. How was yours?” I am trying to pry without sounding like a jerk. But I still want to know why she blew me off. My pride is a little more than wounded, and I need her to tell me where I went wrong.
“It was fine …”
That’s it? But she looks away so quickly I feel like there is something she is holding back. Is she back with her ex-boyfriend and too ashamed to tell me? I would be too. That guy’s an ass.
Screw this. I’m gonna go out on a limb here. “I missed you,” I say, leaning in close enough to smell her vanilla sweet hair. I’m close enough that I’m sure she can feel that my heart is pounding furiously in my chest, but I don’t care. All I see is her. She smiles and looks away but not before I can see her blush deeply. Before I know what I’m doing, I grab her small hand, lacing my fingers through hers. I notice the pleased look that is evident on her face. Pride swells in my chest, and we go about the rest of lunch in our normal pattern. I breathe in deeply, feeling relief and something else that feels a lot like love.
At school, students are getting ready for finals and Christmas break. It still isn’t very cold in California this time of the year, but at least you can wear long sleeves and pretend it’s cold. It doesn’t feel like the Christmas season when it’s sunny and still relatively warm out, I think as I draw my sweater closer.
Regardless of the lack of Christmas feel, people spread the cheer by sending candy grams to one another during class. I get one from Jem, Melody, and Reed. Surprisingly, I even get an anonymous candy gram. Hmmm … a candy gram mystery?
I try shaking my busy thoughts as I gather my books and walk out of my last class after my last final exam. I give a huge sigh of relief. Finals over. Check the hell outta that! My brain might have exploded from all the studying I have been doing.
I will get into college. I will get into college. I will! That’s all that is keeping me motivated at this point.
My heart gives a noticeable leap as I turn to see Reed approaching, a ghost of a smile playing on his full lips. I try not to notice how his body moves while he walks, his narrow hips in jeans and his broad shoulders—everything that makes him mouthwatering. Day-um.
I’m so lame! I think, rolling my eyes at myself.
His deep voice booms excitedly, “How did it go?” He stops right before me with obviously no intention of moving out of my way. I stand, looking up at his sincere face in awe of the striking features that are quite at odds with the beautiful color of his eyes.
I realize quickly he is waiting for a response. “I think I did fine. I won’t know for sure though until after break.” Lifting my hands to show my crossed fingers, I laugh. I studied so much I am sure I did pretty well.
Reed helped me study, so he is aware I know the material backward and forward. He puts his arm around my shoulders as we head in the direction of his locker. I try not to be too distracted by the warmth of his body against my side, but that’s impossible because my skin feels like it is burning. I wrap my arm around his waist and go with it.
“I am sure you did more than fine because you are a bookworm. And I hate to tell you this, but you’re a total nerd. With the books, the checklists, the studying … it’s pretty obvious.” He smiles while saying it so there is no doubt he means it as a compliment.
He noticed the checklists? I groan inwardly. I always have been a bookworm, but the checklists? Does he miss nothing? He turns toward his locker, pulling away from my side, and I try not to whimper in response.
“What are your plans for the break?” I ask, trying to look casual. I’m sure I fail.
“Hanging out with you, genius,” he says it without so much as skipping a beat. But neither does he look at me while saying it so I get the impression he is nervous or has something on his mind. I choose to ignore it while trying not to read too much into it.
“Well, I will be at my dad’s for the break. It’s on the other side of town, so not too far if you want to do something …” I am sure my voice sounds as nervous as I feel saying it, but I hold my smile firmly on my face.
He glances sideways at me and smirks. “Sounds good. I’ll text you.” he finally turns while shutting his locker, but his expression looks guarded.
He clears his throat softly. “Would you want to come over and meet my family? My mother invited you to dinner, but I understand if you can’t …” he trails off wh
ile something similar to nervous fear flashes in his expression. It’s gone so fast I doubt it was really there to begin with. I’m not gonna pass up this opportunity to have time with Reed outside of school, but I also don’t want to sound too eager.
Calmly, I reply, “Sure, I’d love to. I don’t know my dad’s plan for the break, but I’ll let you know. I have your number,” I say, trying to keep it lighthearted. I smile and hip-bump him, while inside I am jumping for joy. I’m proud of myself for keeping my cool.
I’ll refrain from doing my happy dance, for now.
“Good.” He smiles as he walks backward toward his locker. “They’d love to meet you.”
They.
“Favorite color?” I suddenly shout out.
“Blue. You?” He smirks.
“Green.” The color of your eyes.
I walk away, trying not to think too much about the fact that if his mother invited me, it means he must have mentioned me to her. I know how close Reed is to his family so maybe it doesn’t mean as much to him as I think it might. Either way, I’m starting to freak a little as I walk toward the parking lot and away from Reed, refusing to look back at him in wonderment. Did that just happen?
As I leave school, heading out of town, a feeling similar to peace fills my body, as my sister and I finally drive to my dad’s for Christmas break. Finally! While we drive through the neighborhood our dad lives in, I can’t help but admire all the Christmas light displays in front of the impressive-looking houses. Each house is more beautiful than the next as the houses grow more spread out among the tall oaks. Houses? More like monuments to the successful upper class.
They are literally the “houses on the hill,” and there are dozens of these monstrosities.
Walking up the steps, I begin feeling apprehensive of the holiday we will be spending with relative strangers. Even though we look forward to visiting him, we feel like guests in our dad’s home. Intruders. An unwelcome reminder of my father’s failed first marriage that occasionally stop in for visitation on holidays. It’s nothing they do that makes us feel that way, but years of your mother insisting your dad doesn’t want you would make anyone feel unwelcome.
The Face You See Page 8