First Came You (Fate #0.5)

by Faith Andrews

I remain silent, lodging the wedge I’ve created between me and Tommy even deeper. I’m still not sure why he puts himself through this. I know he loves me, but I’m giving nothing in return. I wouldn’t blame him for giving up because I don’t know when I’ll be back to me—the me he fell in love with.

  “Why don’t we take a ride to the beach? Dig our feet in the sand? Watch the waves roll in? A change of scenery might be good, Gabby. You haven’t been out of the house in days.” Tommy curls up behind me on my parents’ bed. I’ve slept here every night since—well, since they haven’t.

  I cringe at his warm touch and more agony courses through me. Even his touch is no longer a comfort. I’m broken—in every way. Totally unfixable.

  “Come on, baby. Let me get you dressed. You need this. We need this.”

  I close my eyes and fight back tears. He’s so worried for me, for us, and all I can do is lay motionless on the sheets that still smell like my dead mother and father.

  “I’m not ready. You go. You don’t need to stay here and watch me like this.” I’ve begged him to go many times. But he won’t. He’s practically moved in, sleeping on the couch, cooking for me and Gina. Invisible, yet a constant presence.

  I should be thankful, but the sick part is, I’m not. Part of me wishes he would leave me alone to wallow in my misery for a little while. I know it won’t help, but nothing else seems to be, either.

  Tommy’s bare feet thud against the hardwood floor as he stands from the bed. Without uncurling from my fetal position, I hear him walk around to my side. Kneeling in front of me, his face an inch from mine, his eyes plead with me. “Please, Gabriella. Please let me help you.”

  The noose around my heart grows tighter as I watch the anguish wash over his handsome, masculine face. He starts to cry, reaching out to touch my face, and my own tears seep out of the corners of my eyes.

  This is torture. My pain. His pain. This is hell on Earth. And I can’t bear another second of it.

  “I need you to leave,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

  “I’m not leaving you, baby. We’ve already been through this.” Tommy’s nature from day one has been to protect me. I can only imagine how hard it is for him to have that taken away. But my own broken feelings are at stake right now and I can’t worry about his. I don’t have it in me. I have nothing left.

  “Go,” I finally say, shifting in the bed and turning my back on him.

  “Why are you pushing me away, Gabriella? Why won’t you let me help you get through this?”

  “Because I don’t want to get through this. I want to feel it. And you and Gina and your parents, you won’t let me. I need to be alone. I need you to go.” I sob into the pillow swathed in the aroma of my father’s aftershave. Taking a much needed inhalation of air to calm the cries, my sadness morphs to anger. “Leave, Tommy! I’m telling you to leave! I don’t want you here. Go!” I bury my face back into the pillow, praying he won’t be in the room when I decide to uncover my face.

  Letting the cries roll through me like waves, I let go of all the pain and hurt and frustration into that pillow. I feel Tommy’s hand at my back and a final kiss on my head, before he whispers I love you.

  When the door to my parents’ bedroom clicks shut and the room is finally quiet and dark, I welcome the peace and the solitude.

  Suddenly, being left alone is a huge relief.

  School resumes today. My first day as a senior—a day I couldn’t wait for only a few months ago, and now—I’m just going through the motions.

  Gina drops me off in front and gives me the look. This new look that is so odd coming from her because it used to belong to my mother.

  “What?” I ask, wondering what she’s worried about this time.

  “You up for this? I’ll let you play hookie if you’re not.” She winks and a small smile creeps across her pink-glossed lips.

  It’s nice to see her smile. I think I need to see more of that. Maybe it will help. Should I feel guilty for wanting those tiny joys? God, when will I ever feel normal again?

  Leaning over the console to kiss her bronzed cheek, I smile back. “I’m good. I think I’m finally ready to be around other people. You know? The kind who don’t suffocate me like you and Tommy.”

  Focusing on the other students crossing in front of her car, Gina’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Gabby. We’re just worried about you.”

  “I’m a big girl. I don’t want to be treated like a basket case anymore. I need to get this day over with—all the sympathetic stares and shallow condolences—and then I just want to try and be a normal teenager and enjoy my senior year as much as possible.” It sounds convincing, but the person who needs the most persuading isn’t buying it. And that person is me.

  “Okay, if you say so, sis. I have class until three today and then I have the review course for the bar tonight. I won’t be home for dinner. Will Tommy be around?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  Gina giggles but then shakes her head. “I don’t know why he loves you, Gabby. But you’re lucky he does.”

  I open the car door and she puts the car in drive. Looking over my shoulder, I blow her a kiss and thank her for taking such good care of me. “Love you. Be careful and have a good day.”

  “Love you too. Have the nurse call me if you need absolutely anything. I can be here in less than thirty.”

  “Thank you.” I slam the door and shift my backpack on my right shoulder. It’s time to face the world again, even if it’s missing two very important people.

  “Gabby? What about you? You think you can make it?”

  I’m half listening to Maria and Crystal talk about the plans they’ve made for the weekend. Something about pizza and a movie with the guys, but I’m zoning out—the way I have all day. I was wrong for thinking I’d be okay with this. I’m totally not, but I can’t lie curled up in a ball for the rest of my life either.

  “I’ll let you know by Thursday.” With a feeble smile, I answer them the only way I know how. They’ve gotten used to me blowing them off without giving me shit. Neither of them can fully understand what I’m going through, but they’ve been good friends—checking in on me, respecting my boundaries, and treating me like the same Gabriella they’ve known since grade school. Thank God for that bit of normalcy.

  But, screw normal! I’m no longer normal. And right now I feel like I’m suffocating and panic is setting in as my two best friends evaluate every move I make. I don’t need to bring any more attention to myself than my parents’ death already has, so without any commotion, I stand from the lunch table and announce, “Guys, I think I need some fresh air. I’ll be back before the bell.”

  “Want us to come with?” Crystal offers.

  “No,” I smile, a genuine one this time. “It’s okay. I won’t be long.”

  When I get to the courtyard, my lungs expand, welcoming the Indian summer heat and melting away my momentary freak out. Fighting back the urge to scream and cry to let it all out like I do when I’m alone at home, I rest my head against a tree and try to calm my breathing.

  One long breath in, one long breath out. I repeat this a few times, the way our family doctor told Gina to have me do when times got overwhelming. I haven’t had to implement it in the confines of my home with my sister and my boyfriend as my only witnesses. There I can let it all out, be crazy with hurt, kick and throw my tantrums without judgment. But here—I’m not about to give everyone a freak show. I have to hold it in, even though it hurts so bad. So I continue the breathing exercise until I’m about ready to rejoin Crystal and Maria.

  “Here. I think you can use this more than me,” says a strange, male voice.

  I open my eyes to see an unfamiliar hand extending a half-smoked, cigarette in my direction.

  “No thanks,” I say, finally appraising the stranger’s face. He’s not a stranger at all. He’s Jacob Miller. A fellow senior. An outsider. One of the dudes who only listens to Nirvana and Pearl Jam and
never follows any of the rules. The teachers hate him, the freshmen fear him, and the rest of the school thinks he’s cool enough not to have an opinion.

  “I didn’t take you for a goodie two shoes, Rossi.” He inhales a deep drag of his Newport and turns his head the other way when he releases the cloud of smoke.

  The pungent fumes, the white fluffy haze, the sound of the paper sizzling as it burns—it reminds me of my dad and his cigars. My heart stops and a lump forms in my throat. I miss him so much. I pinch my eyes shut once more, reaching out to Jacob. “You know what? I’ll take a drag. You’re right. Being a goodie two shoes all my life hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Maybe this is just what I need.”

  I bring the cigarette to my lips, mimicking the way Jacob did moments ago. I’ve never inhaled before, but I know from watching Maria try it once that I’ll probably cough my brains out if I do. “Thanks,” I say, passing it back after I’ve gotten my cheap thrill.

  “Keep it. I have more. Like I said, I can tell you need it.”

  I sense he’s trying to help, although we haven’t uttered two words to each other the entire time we’ve shared this school. Why does he care all of a sudden? Because you’re a charity case now, Gabby. Everyone has to be nice to you. The thought makes me angry and my anger drives me to suck in another dreadful drag—one that winds up traveling into my lungs and coming up as poison.

  I choke on the awful taste, wince at the tightness in my chest, and finally hunch over, holding my knees as if I just ran a marathon.

  “Rossi, you gonna live?”

  Stupid choice of words, Miller, you insensitive jerk. When I’m upright, I scowl at him. Then I take another drag—hair of the dog, or something like that—because momentarily feeling pain other than loss, feels liberating. This time it goes down smoother, and I exhale like a pro, with one foot resting up against the brick wall. I’m a regular ol’ Marlboro man now. “You don’t have to be nice to me because my parents died,” I blurt out.

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “I’m sharing a smoke with a cute girl. That a crime?”

  “My boyfriend might think so.” I flick the head of the cigarette, getting a hang of this smoking thing. Mom and Dad would be so proud, you fool. I ignore the guilt and continue perfecting my new hobby.

  Jacob looks around the courtyard and then lifts my left hand, inspecting that too. “I don’t see a ring or a guy. So, again, where’s the crime?”

  I don’t have the strength to fight back so I just shrug. “No crime. And thanks.”

  “For what?” Jacob lights another Newport and joins me against the wall, staring into the great high school courtyard unknown.

  “For not treating me the way everyone else does. Like I’m broken.”

  Jacob takes one more long pull and then drops the butt to the ground, extinguishing it with his shoe. “See ya tomorrow?” he asks over his shoulder as he makes his way back toward the door of the lunchroom.

  “As long as you bring me another one of these.” I flash the remainder of the cigarette at him, before drawing in one last puff.

  “You got it.”

  I never imagined that the highlight of my day would be sharing a smoke with a stranger.

  Today when I get home from school, dodging Tommy’s mother as she parks her car in their driveway, I slip the pack of cigarettes I bought for myself in the secret compartment of my backpack. I got tired of bumming off Jacob and the nasty habit became something that soothed me, in a way. I’ve managed to keep it from Gina and Tommy, but the more I hide it, the more I crave it. Another reason I’ve cut my time short with them. Stupid, I know. But lots of my decisions have been stupid lately.

  In the last few months I’ve spent more and more time buddying up with Jacob—the stranger who doesn’t want me to talk about my feelings—and I’ve distanced myself from the two people I love most: my sister and Tommy. I can’t help feeling suffocated by all their concern, and dwelling on my pain only makes matters worse. So I’ve forced it all to the back of my mind, hoping one day I’ll wake up and it will just disappear.

  Gathering the mail after locking the door behind me, the phone rings within seconds of crossing the threshold. I contemplate ignoring it, but I never do that anymore. Not since the phone call. I’m always worried I’ll miss a chance to save someone by not answering.

  “Hello,” I answer, kicking off my shoes.

  “Hey, babe. Just checking in.”

  I check the clock—right on time. “I’m home,” I sing, rolling my eyes. Tommy keeps tabs on me like I’m his child these days. That’s Gina’s new job. Can’t he just be my boyfriend again? I’m not in the market for another father anytime soon.

  “How was your day?” he asks, the sound of computer keys ticking in the background.

  “Good. Same as yesterday. You know the deal.”

  “Yup. Okay, well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay and to remind you about tonight.” I can’t ignore the excitement in his voice, but goddamn me if I can remember.

  “What’s tonight? I actually made plans with a few of Jacob’s groupies to go see his band play.” Tommy doesn’t exactly love me hanging out with Jacob, but after introducing them and assuring him that there was no attraction whatsoever, Tommy let up a little. If anything, he likes that I’m not a mopey mess when I’m distracted by Jacob’s band and his outlandish friends.

  “Well, then I’ll come with, and we can commence our special plans afterwards.” He sounds slightly disappointed, but somehow still hopeful.

  Shit! If Tommy comes that means no smoking, no pretending, no fake me. He’d see right through the façade I’ve created around my new group of friends. They didn’t know me before my parents died, therefore they have no idea that this whole life is a bowl of cherries act is just an act. “You sure? I thought you didn’t like his music.”

  “I don’t, but I like you and I want to spend my Friday night with my girlfriend, even if it means tagging along to listen to some lame cover band.”

  “Hey, they’re not lame.” They totally are, but I’m defensive of Jacob and his shitty Eddie Veder knock offs. He’s helped me in ways Tommy can’t. He lets me breathe. Carefree nights in a smoky, dingy lounge listening to mediocre versions of today’s top grunge hits somehow take me away from my reality.

  “Whatever you say, darlin.’ What time does their set start?”

  “Eight, but I was going to help them set up.”

  “So, I’ll be over at six thirty. I got something for you. I’d like to give it to you before we go.” He’s so sweet. Even though I’ve been so detached.

  I feel like a terrible person. Losing my parents made me lose track of all the things that mean the most to me. Maybe tonight I can change that, get back on track, invite Tommy into my new world and show him how it’s masking the pain. I’d like to think it’s healing me, but I’m not a fool. It’s going to take a lot more than some smokes and few new friends to pull me out of this.

  “’Kay, sounds good. And by the way, did I miss an anniversary or something? What’s the gift for?” Knowing how jumbled I’ve been lately, I’m probably forgetting something important.

  “I don’t need a special date to get the girl I love a gift. I just miss you, that’s all. It’s been a rough few weeks with me picking up more hours at the bank, school starting, and you studying so hard. And let’s not forget you becoming a Jacob groupie.” He taunts me with the last part, singing it like a kid sticking his tongue out and flashing his triple scoop ice-cream cone.

  “I miss you too,” I admit, focusing on the part that should mean most. “Tonight will be good. Thanks for putting up with me.”

  “Always, Gabriella. I’ll see you later. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I hang up, hoping I haven’t just concocted a recipe for disaster. Jacob’s world and Tommy’s are very different. I’m sure they can manage small doses of each other, but mixing them together on a r
egular basis will be like getting oil and vinegar to blend.

  As promised, Tommy shows up right on time. He’s dressed in a pair of casual jeans that hang off his hips, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair has grown some—maybe with the times, maybe with lack of time to get it cut—but either way, seeing him like this makes me remember all the reasons I fell in love with him. It’s a guilty emotion—I’ve pushed him away, unwillingly yet at the same time intentionally. A battle of the wills. There’ve been so many inner battles to deal with lately, but tonight I vow to let them slide and just get by.

  Wrapping his arms around me, he leans in for a kiss. “Hey, you. I’ve missed you something fierce.”

  Nuzzling into his warm embrace, I melt against him and decide I’ve missed this too, even if the last time I saw him was only four days ago. I silently hope he doesn’t start with the ‘are you okays’ and ‘is there anything I can do’ tonight. Honestly, that’s what I’ve been avoiding. The coddling. I’m not quite sure I can take much more of it.

  “How was work?” I ask, holding his hand as we walk into the living room.

  Groaning, he rakes his free hand through his already tousled hair and flops onto the couch. “Work was work. School is school. I’m busting my behind, but it’s all for the greater good.”

  “My little work-a-holic,” I joke, poking him in the stomach.

  He grabs my hand and pulls me toward him. I wind up on top of him, my legs straddling his waist. Other than kissing, we haven’t resumed any form of intimacy since my parents died—he’s given me that space—and being here like this brings back a flood of memories and expectations. I’ve always wanted Tommy, and without my parents around enforcing rules—what’s stopping me now? I could be reckless and careless because I have no one to answer to. Gina’s been wonderful, but she’s not my mother. We’ve been over this. I can do what I want within legal limits. I’m sure she was having sex at sixteen regardless of Mom and Dad’s rules—she’s always been a rebel. But restrictions gone and buried, I still don’t think I’m ready to take that step. Even if my pulsating, needy body is telling me otherwise.