by Heidi Acosta
She mumbles something incomprehensible. I lift her up. She is a dead weight, but I manage to drag her so she is propped up against the tub. What did she take? I scan the bathroom for what might have poisoned her. I don’t see anything in here that she could have taken. I open drawers, pull the towels from under the sink. Nothing. I should call for an ambulance, but what would happen with Everett? Surely Child Protective Services will get involved. I cannot lose him. What would he do without me? He needs me. Whatever is in her system needs to come out. “Okay, come on, Momma. Whatever you took we need to get rid of.” I try not to think about what I have to do next. I hold her head steady in my hand and open her mouth, sticking my finger down her throat. She gags, but nothing happens. “Come on, Momma. Please. I stick my finger down deeper. This time she finally vomits. I lean her over the tub. “Good, Momma, good.” I coach her. I do it two more times, making sure her stomach is empty. She is still lethargic and unresponsive, but her breathing has quickened. I need to get her moving. I need to get her up. I pull her arm over my shoulder and try to get her to her feet, “Come on, Momma,” I say again. She is only five foot two and ninety pounds soaking wet, but she is dead to the world and that adds on another fifty. I stumble forward as I try to move her. When I get her up, it takes all my strength to keep her up. “Momma, we got to walk,” I tell her even though she cannot understand me. “Wake up, Momma.” I try to get her walking. If I can get her walking, then maybe she will be okay. I half carry, half drag her out into the hall. I lean against the wall with her, catching my breath before I continue on. I think about the photo of Dylan’s family, how they all seem to love each other. I bet he never had to try to save his mother from a near over dose.
She starts to stumble under me, her feet trying to walk. She is starting to come around. I have to keep her walking until I know she is not going to die on me. I coax her down the hall. I hit the light switch in the kitchen. I see what tried to kill her tonight. A white straw with red and blue stripes is next to a plate with some white residue on it. Damn! I am so angry, I want to scream. She never had tried anything like this before Ronnie. Now he has her snorting the damn pills and nearly killing herself. Where the hell is he, now that she was dying? I am mad at Momma for doing this. I hate her as much as I hate him. Thank God Everett is asleep so he does not have to see his mother, the addict. I hate her!
I wake and immediately reach over to feel the rise and fall of her chest. Her heart beats to a steady rhythm. After I was sure she wasn’t going to die, I put her in bed and searched the whole entire house, pulling random items from their places, leaving them where they might fall. I was on a mission to purge this house of anything that she might use to get high. I even dumped the bleach down the drain in a panicked state. She can’t kill herself. Not yet. No, she has to wait until I am old enough so that the state will not take Everett from me. Then she can do whatever she wants. She can kill herself for all I care. She mumbles something in her sleep. I snuggle up to her, wanting to feel the warmth of her body. But she is ice cold. I wrap my arm over her and try to warm her up. I fall back into a dreamless sleep listening to the beat of her heart.
When I wake again, it is to Everett tapping me on the leg. Momma still breathes. Alive. “Hey buddy,” my voice holds a raspy quality to it from all the tears that I shed last night. He points to me and then to Momma. He wants to know why I am in her bed. He has never seen me touch my mother, let alone lie snuggled up in bed with her.
“Momma is not feeling well,” I offer. He looks to the corner of the room, tapping his fingers against his leg, processing what I just told him. It is as if he is playing an invisible piano with his fingers and he is the only one who can hear the music. I wish I could know what he thinks, how he feels. What does he make of this situation? I roll away from Momma and pull him onto the bed with me. He lies there still, and steady.
Chapter 20.
Sparks
It bothered the shit out of me. Barbie did not want me to know where she lives. It makes me wonder what she is hiding from me. Is she embarrassed to be with me? I think about how she seemed not to care who at school knows about us, freely kissing me, holding my hand as we walked in the hallways. Maybe I am being ridiculous. She wants to be with me. There is something else going on with her and I am determined to get to the bottom of it. I will ask her when I see her at lunch. She will not be happy about me bringing up the subject, but I need to know.
“Dylan, you will be paired with Katie. Get your books and move to the front, please,” Mrs. English announces. I grab my books and shuffle to the front. I would have given anything to be paired with Katie last week, but now all I can do is dwell on Barbie. I slide in next to Katie. She wears her pink cardigan, the one I used to love. I watch as she writes the instructions for the lab assignment in her perfect handwriting.
I pour the clear liquid into the beacon. We are to figure out its elements by mixing the ingredients properly and analyzing the results of the finished project. Simple.
“It says three quarters,” Katie observes. She is keeping a journal of our experiment.
“Huh?” I look at her.
“The instructions say to add three quarters and you just added about two cups,” she points to the beacon that is about to spill over.
“Oh, sorry, I am distracted,” I apologize, pouring some of the liquid back.
“Trouble in paradise?” she smirks.
“No. well…okay. You’re a girl. What does it mean when a girl will not let her boyfriend come to her house?” I run my hand through my hair. I hope the secret ingredient to this is not hair remover.
“Um… thanks…I think,” she replies. “I don’t know, maybe protective parents. Crazy ex-boyfriend…Deranged drug dealer.” I ignore the last remark about Barbie, because I know she does not do drugs, at least not when I am around.
“Dylan, Barbie has a reputation. You know that.” She stops writing and looks at me. “Who knows why she does not want you around?” she shrugs.
“She is not messing around with anybody else,” I say, mainly to reassure myself. Maybe asking Katie was a bad idea. I don’t know how thrilled Barbie would be telling Katie our problems.
“If you say so,” she shrugs again. “All I know is, if I had a boyfriend like you I would not be hiding you.”
Barbie is not hiding me. Is she?
Barbie is waiting at her locker. As I walk up, Tyler has one of his arms up over Barbie as she leans her back against her locker. Her hair is pulled back, exposing her long neck. She wears a loose white T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, black leggings, and her purple wedges that make her as tall as me. Katie’s words swim in my head. Maybe she was right. Tyler tucks the strip of pink hair behind her ear. Anger flares inside of me. A possessive side that I never knew I had before Barbie is back for a visit. Tyler is more her type, the complete opposite of me. I am stupid for thinking this could work out. As if she can hear my thoughts, her eyes catch mine as I walk up. She keeps them on me while a coy smile plays on her face.
“Hi Tyler,” I walk past him and pull her to me and gently kiss her. She kisses me back, completely relaxed in my arms. Let the fireworks burn away any doubts about us.
“I’ll catch you later,” Tyler stomps off, pouting. Good she is mine.
“What is his problem?” I ask, even though I know the reason.
“You just proved to him why I am with you.” She kisses me back and my chest swells.
“Yeah…and why is that?” I ask as she kisses me again.
“Well for one, when I kiss you these little sparks travel through my body.”
I step closer, backing her into the locker. “Yeah?” I kiss the side of her mouth.
“Yeah,” her voice now sounds husky.
“And when you are this close, I lose all reasoning,” I kiss her again wanting to take her further than I had before.
***
Barbie’s bare feet are crossed at the ankles in my lap. I try to go over
this week’s homework. She has her head resting on her text book. She draws a little bird on her pointer finger with a pen. I toss my book aside and lay down next her.
“Do you even listen when I speak?” I rub my hand up her leg.
“Of course I do. You sound a lot like when the teacher speaks on Charlie Brown,” she gives me a wicked grin.
“Oh really,” I grab her side, tickling her, loving the way she squirms under me and the sound of her giggle.
“Okay, okay, truth. I will behave and listen.” She shifts her body, swinging one leg over me so that she is straddling my chest. I move her hair out of her face so I can see her deep blue eyes. “Do you trust me?” she smiles.
With every part of me. “Ummm…”
She pushes me in the arm. “Just close your eyes. All the way—”
I shut my eyes. My breath hitches as she does an exotic dance with her fingers, moving them down my chin and neck. She makes me feel things I have never felt before. And a deep moan escapes me. I feel alive when I am with her. Her fingers run the outline of my lips, making them spark alive.
“Okay, open your eyes,” she whispers in my ear chills run down my spine. I open my eyes and she holds a small compact mirror for me “You look very distinguished,” she laughs.
On my face she drew a handle bar mustache in blue ink above my lip. I reach out to grab her but she wiggles free, hopping to the ground. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you payback is a bitch?” I jump to my feet and chase after her. She squeals and darts between the trees. She is fast, flittering between trees just barely out of my reach. I chase her to the back of the orchard. I have her cornered between two trees and a fence.
“Just remember I love you,” she says, holding up one of her small hands.
My heart stops beating. She loves me. And I love her. I think I love her more than anyone else in my life. And I want to tell her how I feel, but I can’t. “If I give up, you have to promise to be nice.” She grips her side. “Trust me,” I smirk at her.
“I trust you.” She takes a tentative step toward me.
“Wrong move,” I dart forward, scooping her up.
“Dylan, you promised.” She squeals and tries to squirm out of my arms, but I hold her tight.
“I have every intention to make you pay for what you did.” I walk her back to my truck. Setting her down on the tailgate, I put my arms on both sides of her, her legs between mine.
“What do you have in mind?” she bites at her bottom lip, a move that drives me crazy. I lean in; my breath hitches at her closeness. Her hand reaches under my shirt and a soft moan vibrates out of my lips, making me want to do things to her I have only dreamed about. She tugs at the hem of my shirt. I break away only long enough to help her pull my shirt over my head and help her out of hers, tossing them to the side. Our kissing deepens. She wraps her legs around my hips, pulling me closer to her. My hands explore her soft skin. I play with the thin fabric that separates us from being skin to skin. Her mouth is back on mine, her tongue slowly flicking on my lips. Driving me crazy. My head is spinning as she devours me.
Chapter 21.
Touch
He kisses me as if he is dying in the desert and I am a glass of cool water. He is my savior. My body is alive, humming with anticipation of his next move. Each touch is so slow and gentle, it is almost painful. My body is longing for more, driving me crazy. I want him to touch me everywhere. He makes me want to do things I have never done before. I have never been touched like this. I used to be so scared to feel anything, I needed to be numb, but with Dylan I want feel everything. I want to be alive to feel the pain, because with the pain I know will come the cool soothing that he gives me. Every part of me is buzzing as he leans us back against the cold metal scorching my hot skin. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer. I run my hands across his firm chest. I feel like I cannot get close enough. Damn me for wearing these skinny jeans. I fiddle with the button, his hand still over mine.
“I need to ask you something.” He breathing comes in deep gasps.
“I didn’t just bring you out here to study.” He places his hand over mine, stilling it.
“Why you evil, evil genius, you, bringing me out here so you can have your way with me,” I tease.
“You figured my master plan out.” He does an evil laugh. I pull on his belt loops, bringing him closer.
“Actually it was all mine. I knew you could resist me.” I reach up and nip at his bottom lip.
He grabs my hands, bringing them back to his chest. Thank you, God. Mowing lawns does a boy good. I run my hands over his tight chest. He hovers above me, his arms flexed under him. Leaning over, I kiss his biceps for no other reason other than being in his arms makes me feel safe. I almost forget what waits for me at home. He lets out a deep moan from the back of his throat. “I need to ask you something.” His face hardens and my stomach flips. He is going to tell me he does not want me anymore. Why would he? “Barbie,” my throat burns with the sting of tears in my eyes. “I never properly got to ask you but…will you be my girl?” He leans his forehead against mine. The tears now fall. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest.
“Are you crying?” He tries to look at me, but I keep my face tucked under. I am happy. I nod, afraid of how my voice will sound if I answer him. “Why?” He shifts us in one swift motion so I am sitting in his lap. I keep my head tucked under his chin. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I shake my head, “It is not that… It is… You make me happy,” I say in a broken whisper.
He hugs me tightly to his chest. “You make me happy, too.” He tightens his arms around me. I want to stay this way forever. Wrapped in his arms. Just him and me. My worries so far behind me. I only know how I feel with him.
May
My choice is you…
Chapter 22.
Choices
“Ms. Starr,” a tall thin lady with long brown hair weave’s her hand frantically in our direction. Her willowy arm looks like it might snap at any moment. She calls my name again over the sounds of the bus engine starting. I look away, trying to pretend I did not see her frantic waves. Too late. I hesitated too long. She steps in front of a big yellow bus and nearly misses becoming a hood ornament. She does not stop, but keeps coming, jogging in her black leather heels. I stop and wait for her to catch up to us. I mean, she practically died, so I can at least see what she has to say. “Oh, good. You heard me. I was afraid I was going to chase you all the way home,” she pants, trying to catch her breath. She seems crazy enough she probably would have.
“Well, you caught me,” I snap back, with annoyance lacing my voice.
“That I did, Ms. Starr.” She holds her hand out for me to shake. I don’t. After a moment, she lets it fall to her side. I am in no mood for whatever this lady is offering. She must be fresh meat right out of college. She is not much older than me. She wears an eager expression, and her clothes are pressed and reek of a department store. She is unlike the other faculty members with their rumpled cheap clothing, an ever present coffee in their hands, and a look of hoped-for retirement not far away in their eyes.
“Well, I wanted to introduce myself. I am Everett’s new teacher, Ms. White.” Her red-painted lips spread into a smile.
“Uh, huh.” I know. I have seen the many letters she sent home in his backpack. “I was just trying to meet all the parents of my new students.” she whips a hand down her black pencil skirt. “I tried calling, but it seems your phone is out of service… Is there a good time I can talk with your mother?”
How about never. “She is really busy. She works the night shift at the hospital, and sleeps during the day. You know, being a single mom and all… Look, I will let her know that Evie has a new teacher.” I turn to high tail it out of there before Ms. Perky can try to interrogate me anymore.
“Ms. Starr, it is really important that I meet with her. There are a lot of services that Everett should be getting. It see
ms like he is just getting the basics at school.” She digs in her pocket, pulling out a glossy card. I take it from her and look over it. There is a picture of a red apple with her name and phone number on it. “Tell your mother to give me a call so we can go over these options for him.” I stuff the card in my back pocket.
“Sure thing.” I take Everett and get the hell out of there as quick as I can.
***
I tap on Third’s window. His blue curtains rustle before his round face comes into view. His brows shoot up into his thin blond hair. He opens the window. “Barbie? What are you doing?”
Momma has been worse than ever. I thought she would slow down after she nearly died. It only seemed to increase her habit use. She has been so out of it lately, worse than normal. I have been calling out of work for her, claiming she had the flu. She has been spending the nights stumbling around the house, searching cabinets and closets, insisting I must have pills hidden somewhere. Tonight, she yanked Everett out of bed, and shook him so hard. She was screaming at him to tell her where I hid the pills. If I had some then, I would have given them to her just to make her stop.
“I didn’t want to wake your parents.” I shift from one foot to the other.
“Oh. What are you doing here? It is midnight,” he whispers, confused.
“My mom went to work and locked us out…accidently.” The words tumble out, “Do you mind if we hang out until she gets back to unlock the door?” I lie. It is so natural to lie that sometimes I almost believe myself. He glances behind me at Everett, who is spinning in a circle. “Come around to the front quietly. I will open the door for you.”
Not only does Third answer the door, but so does his mother in her slippers and her fuchsia moo moo. Her hair is a bright Crayola red with pink foam rollers. Embarrassment burns on my cheeks. “Come in, you poor things,” she hurries us in. “Third told me how y’all been locked out. You poor babies,” she pulls me into her chest, hugging me tight. She smells like cheap rose perfume and chocolate cookies.