by Kim Holden
He hasn’t blinked. “So, what do you want me to do now? Please, tell me. Do you want me to leave and never talk to you again?” His voice cracks and a tear rolls down his cheek. “Because if that’s what you want, I honestly don’t think I can do it.”
Seeing the tears on his face is worse than being punched in the chest. I want to hug him, to comfort him. But I know I can’t. I’d get sucked right back in. “I don’t need a boyfriend right now, Dimitri. I just need a friend. I know that’s a lot to ask and I understand if you can’t do it.”
The tears trail silently down his beautiful face. “You’re my best friend and you always will be.” With that he rises, kisses me on top of my head and walks out the front door.
I fold my arms on the table and my head drops onto them. I cry until I can no longer stay awake.
Life is sometimes … imperfect.
Chapter 9
Denial can be beautiful
But only when you’re a fantastic liar
My stomach roars, protesting, painfully pleading for food. Hunger is a pain different from other physical pain. It’s mental, the kind of pain that can drive you mad. It slowly gnaws away at you from the inside out, forcing out all other sensations. Attempts to divert your attention from it are short-lived and futile. I pull my knees tighter to my chest and stare at the shadowy blackness streaked across the backs of my eyelids. The dirt beneath me is cold but my skin is almost too numb to take notice.
I feel an arm around my shoulder tighten. “You okay, Ronnie? D. should be back any minute now. He thought he’d be able to get some bread from the vicar tonight.”
The conversation draws me out of my hiding place within. “I’m okay, Sebastian. I just hope he hurries. We need to find some shelter before this bloody snow picks up.”
Sebastian and I are huddled in an alley, which provides some protection from the wind. The snowflakes swirl around us like tiny dancers. Their beauty is temporarily mesmerizing. It’s been nearly three days since our last meal, and even though the cold wind makes the hunger worse, watching the snow make its silent descent is peaceful and calming. It brings back memories of sitting with my mum and dad next to the fire in our little one-room house watching the snow fall on Christmas Eve. They’re some of the most cherished memories I have of my parents.
I met Dimitri and Sebastian at the orphanage when I was five. When I was ten, we ran away. We’ve lived on the streets for the past five years. But we’re a family, and that’s what’s most important. Even though I’m the oldest, Dimitri is a natural leader. He’s ingenious for a fourteen-year-old and that’s proven the difference between life and death on more than one occasion.
I hear footsteps on the cobblestone street at the opening of the alley. It’s Dimitri. A huge smile spread across his soot-smudged face.
“I hope you two aren’t too comfortable. I was thinking we could find someplace more proper to dine.” With that he pulls loaf of bread as long as his arm from behind his back.
Sebastian stands up slowly and stretches as if his joints are frozen. “Brilliant! I told you he’d come through, Ronnie, didn’t I?”
Dimitri smiles and says, “I always do, mate.” His smile is infectious.
“Are you sure you want to share that with a couple of cheeky bums like us?” I joke.
This makes Dimitri laugh. “Cheeky bum or not, you’re still my best friend and you always will be.” He bends over and kisses the top of my head. “Now let’s eat.”
I sit bolt upright in bed and blink several times before my eyes adjust enough to read the clock on my nightstand. 10:37 … at night, judging by the darkness outside my window. The words echo in my head: “You’re still my best friend and you always will be.” How I pray those words are true.
I slowly get out of bed and stand there a moment, temporarily dazed. I think about the earlier conversation with Dimitri and his leaving and realize that I cried myself to sleep on the kitchen table. I vaguely remember my mom helping me downstairs to my bed. I glance back at my nightstand and see a plate with a sandwich and a glass of water. My stomach growls ferociously at the sight of it. It’s been three days since I’ve eaten. I sit back down and attack the sandwich ravenously. It is, without a doubt, the best PB and J I’ve ever eaten.
I climb upstairs to the kitchen, and, finding it empty, decide to make another sandwich. And then another. After I’m finished, I sit in the dim kitchen, staring out the window. It’s just starting to snow. For the moment, everything is quiet and calm, peaceful almost. It’s funny how everything can change in the blink of an eye. How every new day can lead you down a new path. I begin to consider that life is ultimately just a series of choices—a game … with no instructions included.
• • •
The next morning at school is surreal. I feel so out of place. It’s almost as if I’m the new girl at school, as if re-introductions to old friends are necessary. It’s awkward, but I quickly learn most people are sincerely forgiving. Of course, news travels fast and by lunch it seems that the entire school knows Dimitri and I have broken up. How does that happen? I’m practically smothered by curiosity on a day that I really could have done without all of the attention. Piper, of course, wants the whole scoop—and Dimitri’s phone number. I don’t provide either. She understands and lets it go (only temporarily I’m sure). Monica is genuinely concerned and says to stop by her house after work so that we can talk. Tate tries to joke around with me. It’s obvious he wants to avoid the breakup subject, which is just fine with me. John even stops by my locker to see if I want any help with my calculus homework. Teagan is the only person I haven’t seen. I don’t have any classes with him this semester. I resolve to try to find him after school.
Seeing Dimitri at our lockers is the most surreal of all. He isn’t “mine” anymore. He’s only my friend. At least, I hope he is. The sight of him makes my throat feel scratchy and raw. I’m afraid to talk to him, suddenly intimidated by him. I’ve shared the most intimate conversations of my life with this person, and now I have no idea what to say to him—as if he’s a complete stranger. It’s as if our breakup has erased the last five months. He looks sad to me, but I wonder if my perception is merely a product of my own guilt.
The school day hasn’t exactly been the disaster that I’d envisioned, but it’s not one I’d care to repeat either. I walk to the parking lot head-down and deep in thought, not paying attention to anything except the pavement passing under my feet. I dig through my bag looking for my keys as I approach Jezebel.
“Did you lose your keys again?” The voice is unmistakable, mainly due to the overly sarcastic tone. But it is one of my favorite voices in the world. It’s the voice of my childhood. It makes me smile. It’s the one person I’ve been waiting all day to talk to. Teagan.
I run the last few yards and wrap my arms around his waist and everything comes spilling out. “I’m so sorry, Teag. I’m so sorry that I’ve taken our friendship for granted. That I haven’t called. That we haven’t been able to hang out …” My words fail as I muffle my cries into his coat.
Teagan wraps his arms around me and interrupts my blubbering, “Veronica, stop being so damn stupid and shut up already. You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He grabs me by the shoulders and pulls back to look at me. “I only need to know one thing. Who broke up with who? What did he do? Do I get to kick his ass?”
“I broke up with him and you’d better not lay a hand on him. Dimitri didn’t do anything wrong. If anyone deserves an ass kicking, I do. I just need a break. I need some time to get things straight. I need some time to spend with my friends because I’ve ignored you guys all year, and I’m sorry for that.”
Teagan squints and smiles tentatively. “So, are you okay?”
I fake a half-smile. “I’ll survive.” And then I half-laugh, sniffing back my tears. “I’ve been through this whole breakup scenario enough times you’d think it would get easier each time, but this time it wasn’t. It’s not that I wanted to do it, but mo
re that I needed to do it. Does that make sense?”
Teagan pulls me back into a tight hug. “Veronica, honestly, you never make much sense. But I’m here for you if you need anything.”
I hug him back. “Thanks.”
He rests his chin on the top of my head. “You sure I can’t kick his ass?”
I reach back to punch him in the kidney and he lets me go. “Ouch,” he says while rubbing his back. “That almost hurt. You’re getting kind of strong.”
I laugh. “I took weightlifting last semester, remember?” I start to rifle through my bag again. “I hate to cut this short, but I really need to get to work. Will you be home later tonight? I can call you then.”
The smile fades and his face is suddenly very sincere, which is not like Teagan. He doesn’t let his guard down very often. “You can call me anytime. Call me at three in the morning if you want to.”
I can’t help but smile. “Thanks Teag. You’re a good guy, you know that?”
He smiles. “Yeah, yeah. Get to work.”
• • •
Work has been weird lately due to the fact that we all know our days are numbered. Everyone is on edge and sad. It’s depressing just stepping foot in the front door—and for someone who’s already feeling down, that’s saying a lot. Still, the thought of the office finally closing brings some relief. Maybe all of the prolonged waiting and sadness is just the universe’s way of preparing me to cope, and to feel relief instead of dread. I guess I’ll answer that question when I don’t have a job anymore.
After work, I stop by Monica’s house on my way home. She respects my privacy and doesn’t ask about Dimitri. Instead, the conversation is focused on her and Tate. They’ve been together for several months now and she’s totally enamored of him. She asks me a lot of questions about him, and the longer we talk the more I realize that I know Tate better than almost anyone else, except maybe Teagan. For instance, I know that he’s allergic to bee stings (he puffs up like a giant marshmallow), and that he’s terrified of Doberman pinschers (his neighbor’s dog bit him when we were in fifth grade), and that he loved to roller skate when we were little (in his Superman cape). Sometimes you don’t realize how much you really know about someone until you start answering random, trivial questions about them. She seems excited to see me and to talk so freely, and I’m relieved that we’re not talking about me. It’s been so long since we’ve done this. It actually makes me feel good. It’s nice to focus on someone else’s life for a while—someone who’s actually happy.
The hour is like therapy for me. I should have paid her when I left.
I eat dinner with my mom, which is uncharacteristically quiet due to my “do not mention Dimitri” demand. This disappoints her. It makes me feel like I’ve robbed her and my dad of a friend by breaking up with Dimitri. They love him. I can tell it’s killing her that I won’t tell her what was going on, but I can’t. Avoidance, at least today, is my coping mechanism.
I go directly to my room after dinner, finish my homework, and make a quick call to Teagan. He’s watching a basketball game and even though he insists I’m not interrupting, I know I am, so I let him go.
The next few days progressively get better. I’m not feeling like myself yet, but I’m starting to feel somewhat human again. And that’s a start.
On Thursday morning, my dad gets in from his latest trip. He’s taking a long weekend off and the house feels a little warmer for it. My parents and I are all sitting at the table eating dinner that night when something happens. I’m like an alcoholic who’s been clean, methodically embracing sobriety, when suddenly and unexpectedly a bottle of whiskey is thrust upon me, into unwanting yet desperately wanting hands. But instead of whiskey, it’s the doorbell. When it rings, I offer to answer it so my parents can continue their conversation. I open the door. There standing in front of me is my addiction: Dimitri.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest and I can’t help but reach up to clutch it. I’ve dealt with seeing him at school pretty well, mainly because I expect to see him there. Preparation is the key; that and the fact that he’s just an amazing person and knows how much or how little to talk to me and relieve some of the awkwardness and spare me the guilt. All of the feelings come rushing back when he unexpectedly shows up at my house. I’m suddenly the recovering alcoholic with both hands wrapped tightly around a bottle. I’m consumed with need … and guilt.
Upon seeing my reaction, he starts. “Are you okay, Ronnie?” He raises his hands, as if to place them on my shoulders—to steady me, maybe—but stops just short and drops them. His voice rings in my ears. “Ronnie?”
I drop my hands and blurt out, “I’m okay.” My head is reeling. I take a few deep breaths. I can’t look at him, but I ask quietly, “What are you doing here?”
He lifts my chin with the lightest touch of his finger so that I’m looking into his eyes; I’d almost forgotten how beautiful they are. “Can’t I visit my friend anymore?” His smile is painfully kind, pleading.
“Of course you can,” I say. The rest I continue silently in my head, thinking, “Except that it kills me to look at you and wonder if you hate me like you rightfully should.”
“I also stopped by to see your dad. Is he home yet?”
My dad walks around the corner at that very moment. “I thought I heard your voice. Did you bring the car?”
“Yes, but if this isn’t a good time I can come back tomorrow.”
“Don’t be silly, if you can give me a few minutes to finish eating we’ll get it off the trailer and into the garage. Come on in and say hi to Jo.” My dad urges Dimitri forward with a hand on his shoulder.
My mom is, as always, more than happy to see Dimitri. “Hi Dimitri. Have you eaten? Can I get you anything?”
Dimitri shakes his head. “No. Thank you, Jo. I’ve already eaten.”
She gestures to the open fourth chair at the table. “Please have a seat.”
“I don’t want to impose. Really, I can just wait in the front room.” He turns away from the kitchen and I exhale a sigh of relief. I wasn’t aware of the fact that I’d been holding my breath.
My dad follows him, leaving his meal unfinished. “Nonsense, you’re not imposing. Let’s take a look at what you’ve got.”
I watch through the kitchen window as they pull his Volkswagen into the garage.
I can tell my mom desperately wants to talk about Dimitri because she’s quietly humming as she rinses of the dishes. Humming is a by-product of holding her tongue, always has been. It’s filler. Her gaze returns to me frequently until she can’t fight it any longer. “Your dad’s really excited to help Dimitri paint his car this weekend. And I have to admit it will be nice to have him around again, even if it’s only for a few days. I kind of miss seeing him.”
If she’s trying to make me feel guilty it’s working. “I know you do, Mom. Sorry to ruin this for you and Dad.”
She stops and turns to look at me. Her voice is timid. “What happened, Ronnie?”
“I broke up with him.” I reluctantly divulge.
She sighs and looks to the ground. “I know.”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know?”
“Because I called him Monday night after I got you into bed.” She peeks up tentatively waiting for me to unload on her, but I can’t. This week has been too long and I don’t have it in me. “You were a wreck and I thought he would know what was going on. He didn’t give me any details, but said that he was worried about you. He said the two of you needed some time apart so that you could sort some things out. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I don’t want to talk about it, Mom. Not now. I’m going to my room.” When I get to my room, I feel lost. All I can do is lie on my bed. For some reason, my eyes are drawn to Dimitri’s painting on the wall and I can’t stop staring at it. I considered taking it down, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I know it’s stupid, but every time I look at it I think about the dream I had about me and Dimitri in Paris. It’s a
s though I’ve actually been there. I can’t bear to hide that memory away in my closet or under my bed.
There’s a knock on my already open door. My back is to it, and I assume it’s my mom. My voice cuts the silence. “I said I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Sorry. I just wanted to return this.” I roll over and see Dimitri standing in the doorway. He’s holding up a CD case. “I forgot that I borrowed this. I found it in my glove box this afternoon.”
Words are just out of my reach, so I stare at him instead. Smooth—God, I’m an idiot. I’m losing my freaking mind.
He takes a few steps into my room and puts the CD on my desk. “I’ll just leave it here. Good night, Ronnie.” He turns and, walks out the door and climbs up the stairs. I cannot bring myself stop him.
The tears start as soon as I hear the door shut behind him. I want to chase him and stop him and hug him and never let him go. I want to tell him that I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life … but I can’t. I need to deal with me.
• • •
Dimitri comes over that weekend and my dad helps him paint his car. I confine myself to my bedroom and to stay out of sight as much as possible. I research colleges online and talk to Monica and John on the phone about their plans after graduation. I am feeling pretty good about things by Sunday afternoon. I have ruled out several schools and narrowed down the list significantly.
Needing a break, I head upstairs to get a glass of water and rest my eyes for a few minutes. I’ve been staring at a computer screen for hours. I pause and hear the TV in the living room. Over the noise, I can hear my parents talking and laughing. They sound so content and happy. They really enjoy each other’s company. Curiosity gets the best of me and I decide to walk out to the garage and check out Dimitri’s car. I slip on my coat and mittens. Despite the chill in the air the garage is nice and warm when I enter. My dad has the heat turned up. The air is slightly hazy and smells faintly of paint fumes. I walk to the far end where the car is parked. It’s black and shiny. It looks amazing. All I can think about is how happy and proud Dimitri must be. His car, that he’s worked hard on for so long, is finally done. It makes me smile. He deserves some happiness right now.