“Sure,” I say. “Let me just finish washing my face and stuff.” He nods at this and goes into his room to change into his sweat pants. I’m still kind of in shock here.
I turn on the warm water and splash my face with it. Then I take my loofa out of the drawer and scrub soap onto my face. I have one zit and I am determined to get it off. I usually have perfect skin so when I don’t it really pisses me off. I do not tolerate any big things on my cheeks. It looks like a big tomato and that’s just not going to work. So I’m scrubbing my zit off, then it starts to bleed. There is blood now flowing down my cheek out of the pimple. I hate the word pimple.
“Ahhh!! My face is bleeding!” I keep scrubbing it though. Kade comes into the bathroom and starts laughing at me, then puts his finger on the spot where the blood is. Um, is he aware he’s practically touching my insides? Blood is a very personal thing and I’m not too sure I feel comfortable with him touching my own.
“Blood is a good look for you,” he says. He smiles at me as his thumb strokes the sensitive, raw, bloody spot. I don’t want to look into his eyes because I’m afraid I’ll never ever look away.
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically then bend over the sink and rinse the soap and blood off my face. He stands there in the doorway watching me. He leans his hands on the white bathroom counter to the right of my sink. He’s making me kind of nervous.
“What are you looking at?” I ask as I dry my face off with a towel.
“You,” he says then walks back downstairs. I stand there with my hands gripping the counter, looking at myself in the mirror. Why does he make me feel so...different? It’s something I’ve never felt before and it’s freaking me out. I don’t do well with things that are out of my comfort zone. Who does? I walk downstairs and find Kade sitting at the bar doing his anatomy homework. I open up my AP Calculus book to page 97 and start my insanely hard math homework. I love math, I really do, but I’m starting to get burnt out. Can I really handle majoring in math and become a math teacher for the rest of my life? I might just go crazy. I look at the first problem and am intimidated. It’s like a whole page long. I don’t even think there’s a question in here. I don’t see a question mark. When I was little, I used to just look for the question mark and do whatever the question asked and not read the rest, but that doesn’t fly in Calculus. I rest my head in my palms and sigh. I catch Kade looking over at me out of the corner of my eye. I pretend to be concentrating really hard on my question but I’m just staring at my graph paper and trying not to look over at him. I don’t know why he looks at me all the time, or why I can never seem to look away from him. It freaks me out, but I can’t help it. I look up from my paper and over at him. His eyes are already studying mine searching for some emotion or any at all. He scoots his chair to face me. Did I mention the way he looks at me scares the crap out of me? He stares into my eyes and I get chills, and not the bad ones. The ones that feel like warm electricity is coming up through your spine. I get butterflies in my stomach.
“Why do you always run away from me?” He whispers. He deserves an answer I just can’t bear to even look at him. I look away. I have to. Tears well up in my eyes and I look up at the ceiling, fighting with all my might not to let one slip from my eye down to my cheek. I decide to be honest with him though because he deserves it. He deserves an answer and a truthful one.
“Because every time I look at you I want to break down and cry. You remind me so much of Cynthia,” I say. I wipe a tear that escaped from my eye. He sits there staring at me with his head resting on his hands.
“You remind me of her to, but it’s just something we’ve got to get through, Becc,” he replies. He’s the only one that has ever called me Becc and I love it. He takes my hands in his and looks me in the eye. “We can do this. It’s only for a little while,” he continues. What if it’s not? What if Cynthia and Rey have to live in Mexico forever and never come back? This makes me cry even harder. I hate the thought of having to get through this year with only a limited amount of phone calls and no visits. I rub my fingers across my collar bone, like I always do when I’m nervous. I shake my head, telling myself to stop crying. Stop crying, Becca. You’re making a fool out of yourself. But then again, what else is new? I can’t help it. I rest my head in my hands and sob.
“It’s not fair that she has to leave,” I say to him without looking up. “I’m so mad at Destiny,” I continue. I know I shouldn’t really be saying I’m mad at Destiny, because if I put myself in Kade’s shoes, I would be furious. I can’t help it. I am mad at her. She still hasn’t contacted anyone. Not even Kade or me. And that makes me insanely upset. Kade slides his chair over so his is touching mine and puts his right arm around me. He still isn’t crying, though. Why do boys not cry? I really wish they would sometimes so I wouldn’t feel like a total and complete idiot.
“We’re all mad at her. This will only make us stronger, though,” he says.
“Why do you always know the right thing to say? It pisses me off,” I say as I push his arm off of me and scoot my chair away from him. I cross my arms over my chest and refuse to look at him.
“I don’t always know the right answer,” he says. Not true. You always know exactly the right thing to say to help me get through it, but at the same time piss me off. That takes some talent. Asshole. I get up from the bar stool, walk down the hall, and out the door. On my way down the hall, I hear him calling after me.
“Really? You’re upset about this? Oh my gosh. You are freaking impossible,” he yells. Yep, I might be impossible, but right now, that’s all I’m comfortable being. How can someone make me want to push him away but at the same time cry into his chest and have him hold me until I fall asleep? I shake my head as I walk out of the house, grabbing my keys on the way out. I hop into my maroon BMW three series, and put it in reverse. Yes, I have a super nice car for a seventeen-year-old. Welcome to Orange County, California. I call Chasity on the way.
She picks up the phone. “Hello?”
“Meet me at the tennis courts in five,” I demand. Who the hell cares, though? She’s my best friend, I can boss her around when I want and she can fucking suck it up. Plus, I’m in a pissy mood and probably PMS-ing so she can kiss my ass. She does it to me all the time; we are even.
“Gotcha. I’ll take my bike down,” she says. As little kids, we used to bike from Chasity’s house to her community’s tennis courts and play. We were horrible tennis players back then, and we still are today. But that’s okay. We enjoy playing together and it gives us time to talk one on one. After about the fourth time we went down to play, we realized that it’s a really good way to get our aggression out. So now, we always play together when one of us, or both of us, are pissed off. Today, it’s my turn to hit the ball like it’s someone’s face. And that feels fucking amazing.
“Okay,” I say then hang up without even saying goodbye. I press the button on my wheel to hang up the Bluetooth. I am so against texting and driving you have no idea. I continue to drive three blocks to Chasity’s community clubhouse. I park my car in the spot closest to the tennis courts. I turn the ignition off and put the emergency brake on, then open the door and get out.
“Hey. What’s up Becca?” Chasity parks her bike at the bike rack next to the pool gate and walks over to me.
“Kade.”
“Just send him over to my house. He’s yummy,” she says. Oh God I might puke. Chasity is so gross. “Is he being a dick?”
“That’s the problem! No! I just get mad for no reason and I feel bad,” I say as we walk toward our special tennis court – the one that doesn’t connect with any others. When we play on a court that connects to another one, we always hit balls over to the other court. It’s really embarrassing. So, now we always try to get here early and get the nice court so we can be alone.
“Then I don’t see your problem here, Becc,” she says. Out of everyone, shouldn’t she see the problem here? She’s my best friend, she should really see where I’m coming from. Yet, I do
n’t even know why I’m mad, so I can’t really hold it against her.
I shake my head as Chasity swipes the key-card over the scanner and opens the court’s gate. She holds the heavy door open for me and I slip inside. Chasity takes the tennis bag off her back and opens it up. She hands me my favorite racket, the one with the batman logo on it, and takes out hers. She has a light-weight one that she got from this cute boy she flirted with one time we were here. He just gave it to her and said she could keep it forever. The boy never even glanced at me. Chasity has always been really good at flirting with guys and being sexy. I can flirt, I think, but I cannot be sexy to save my life. It’s really frustrating, too. Especially when I see Chasity in action and I’m just standing there at her side all awkwardly.
Chasity hands me one bag of tennis balls and keeps another one for herself. I walk over to the side facing the sun, since I’m the one with the sunglasses and take a ball out of my bag.
“We’re going to need to play baseball style,” I say. Chasity nods. I back up all the way to the gate and hit the ball like my racket is a baseball bat. When we’re really mad, we hit the ball as hard as we can and swing the racket really hard. It really helps get my aggression out in a healthy, physical way. Over the years, my parents got tired of me throwing and breaking things in the house, so they made me find ways to get my aggression out. Tennis helped. Plus, I get to spend time with my best friend.
“He’s too nice,” I tell her. I hit the ball as hard as I can and it lands all the way to the right of the court. Opposite of where Chasity is standing. Her shoulders sink as she walks across her side of the court to get the stupid ball.
“Too nice? Is that possible?” She reaches down and grabs the ball. She swings her racket and rockets the ball off toward me. I try to hit it back when it comes to me, but I swing and miss. She laughs.
“Yeah. Henry was too nice. Well, until things changed. But before things changed, don’t you remember me saying I didn’t like him as more than a friend because he was too nice?” I pick up the ball I missed and hit it back to her. This time, she hits it back to me. I try to rally it back, but I miss. Again.
“So you’re saying you like Kade because he’s too nice?” Does she mean “like” like? Oh gosh.
“NO! That is sooo not what I meant. Kade just always knows the right fucking thing to say. He knows exactly how to push my buttons and I hate it.”
“Still not seeing the problem here.” This time, when she hits the ball to me, I hit it back. She hits it back to me, and I do the same.
I sigh. “I know, Chasity. I guess I’m just kind of having a hard time in general,” I say.
“That’s understandable,” she says. “With Cynthia moving and Kade moving in and all. I would have issues too, so don’t beat yourself up.” I nod at this. Damn, she knows the right thing to say to me, too. It’s creeping me out. I slam the ball against my racket as hard as I can. It goes far, then bounces on the ground and goes so high it goes on the other side of the gate.
“Really!?” Chasity screams at me. I shrug. She always gets mad when I hit one over the gate because her dad is really big on coming back home with the same amount of balls we started with.
“We’ll get it after. No big deal,” I say as she takes another ball out of her bag and serves.
“Have you talked to Cynthia lately?” The ball comes to me and I hit it back to Chasity.
“Yeah,” I say. “Right after me, she talked to Kade and Cynthia asked if anything was wrong with me.”
“What do you mean?” She hits the ball back at me.
“Exactly that. She asked Kade if I was okay and Kade said he thought so,” I say. I catch the ball and walk over to where we put the tennis bag. I grab a water out of the bag and open the bottle and take a sip. Chasity comes over and takes a sip of hers too.
“That’s weird.” She sits there and looks at me for a while, trying to figure out what Cynthia meant. I think I know exactly what Cynthia meant and I know she knows that no, I am not okay. She saw what a wreck I was when she left. Of course she would ask Kade if I’m alright.
“Do you think Kade has talked to Destiny?” I look up from my water bottle at her. I haven’t even thought about if Kade has talked to her. But then again, I know he hasn’t. He’s so mad at her you can practically see flames in his eyes when someone even says her name.
“No. He’s still furious beyond belief,” I say. I walk to my side of the court again and juggle the ball up and down with my racket.
“I wouldn’t blame him.” I drop the ball my racket is juggling and serve it to Chasity. She hits it back to me.
“Has Henry tried contacting you?” I can tell my question kind of threw Chasity off her game, because she swings to hit the ball and totally misses.
“Yes. He keeps sending his stupid-ass-weed-smoking-mother-fucker-friends over to me to ask why I won’t talk to him. Like you dumb mother fucker gotta be kidding. WHY AM I NOT TALKING TO HIM? I mean Becca, can people SERIOUSLY be that much of dumbasses? He’s so fucking unaware it’s kind of sad,” she says. I crack up because that would be my exact response, too.
“I know. It’s kind of scary how clueless people can be, huh? Like normal people would get the message after a month of not talking, but nope. Not him.” I hit the ball with all my strength back to Chasity. She hits it even harder back to me.
“Has he tried talking to you?”
“A little bit. It’s gotten better, just like my mom said it would, though. But when he contacts me, he does it with a big bang. My parents are trying to figure out how to block his number but Verizon is being a stupid butt.” I walk over to the tennis bag; I have to get home for dinner.
“Does Kade know?” She walks up from behind me.
“What? No. Why would I tell him?” I pick up my water bottle and my keys and head out the gate, with Chasity following behind me.
“I don’t know. Maybe he would have some good advice on how to get through it,” she says. Good advice my ass.
“There’s no reason in telling him. What happened between Henry and I is history now. No one needs to talk about it anymore,” I tell her. I unlock my driver’s seat door and hop in. I turn on the car and roll down the window so I can continue talking to Chasity.
“But we’re talking about it right now,” she says. I look at her straight in the eye. Damn, she’s got me on this one.
“Yeah, but I have to make sure he’s not contacting you. This is my mess to begin with, and I don’t know how to clean it up.” She just nods at what I say. I say goodbye then pull out of my parking space. I put the car in drive and drive all the way home in silence. I usually love music, but right now, I don’t know what I would listen to. No song or genre seems good to me. I’m not in the mood. I turn right onto Jacksonville Road and then left onto my street. I park my car in the driveway – in between my parent’s cars. Once I lock the car, I shut the garage door and head inside.
“Glad you’re here, hon; it’s time for dinner,” my mom says when I walk into the kitchen.
“What’s for dinner?” I drop my purse on the bar stool and look over at Kade who is still doing his homework on the other bar stool. I immediately look away when his eyes meet mine.
“Meatloaf,” I hear my mom say as I’m trying super hard to ignore the fact that Kade is watching me. Must. Not. Look. But I do. Like an idiot. He’s wearing a navy blue t-shirt and black track pants. He looks cute. Not in the “I’m cute” way but in the, “I’m exhausted from school and I’m tired of homework so I’m in sweats and at home hanging out,” cute. Then I realize what exactly I just thought about. The only two words I caught from my crazy mind are “cute” and “home.” First of all, yes, sadly, he is very cute. And second, I did just say he’s cute because he’s “home and tired of homework.” Yes, Kade is home. And in a way, that feels comforting. In another way, though, that scares the shit out of me.
Mom puts two plates of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and asparagus in front of Kade and me and tells
us to eat up. I take the fork and knife off my plate and begin to cut my meatloaf.
“Thanks mom,” I mumble. Then Kade says thank you too. I don’t look up at him, knowing that’s exactly what he wants. I would never want to give him what he wants and let him win at his own game. That would just be too damn easy for him.
When my mom walks out of the room to go back to work, I start to freak out. This is sooo not going to be good. I just try and ignore the fact that all I can hear is clinking forks against plates. I hate that sound; it’s so empty and boring. Then Kade breaks the silence by saying probably one of the nicest things I have ever heard somebody say to me. That’s the worst part, too. Kade is so nice. So caring, like he’s been thinking about what to say to me since I left.
“Becca, I’m here when you need me.” And that’s all he says. And I’m a little more complete inside. A part of me healed just a tad bit more.
Then we just sit there in silence eating dinner. But, I feel more company in the quiet kitchen of just the two of us than I’ve felt surrounded by my loud friends at lunch.
Chapter 22: <-- Breaking
“Your so selfish, Becca. You only think about yourself. It’s sick. If you really cared about me, you would stop talking to him. Because everyone on this earth, even Chasity, doesn’t like Chase. I recommend you stop thinking about yourself and think about how your relationship with Chase is hurting other people. Besides, best friends come before boyfriends – you know that. Unless, you know, you’re having another one of your bitch moments and I’m not your best friend anymore. So stop being so freaking selfish and actually think about me for once.”
I know it doesn’t seem like he’s such a great friend - the guy that wrote the message above. But, see, he was such an amazing friend. At one time I thought he was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. I know what you’re thinking, how could your so called ‘best friend’ talk to you like that? It’s not as easy as you think. And I know now you’re thinking “let me guess, one of those ‘it’s complicated’ thing? Sounds like a movie to me. I doubt it’s ‘that complicated.’” But, it is. So cut me some slack. Sometimes, it takes a while to learn how people should treat us. That no, we really aren’t supposed to be treated like shit. Though most people have treated me like shit, so I’m used to it. Again, no, I’m not even supposed to be used to it.
When I Forget You Page 9