He laughed and kissed the tip of my nose. “Yes, you silly girl. I told my girlfriend that I loved her,” he chuckled.
I nodded, still trying to form a cohesive sentence. “You do realize what I’ve done, right? I’ve put both of us in jeopardy. I’ve potentially exposed your alcoholic father to the world. I have no idea what will happen to you if someone watches those tapes. Why aren’t you mad at me?” I asked, confused by his acceptance of my flawed plan.
He pushed a few wayward strands of my hair behind my ear. “I understand what you did. I have one year left before I turn eighteen and can find a way to escape. I would rather live anywhere but here for the next year. I don’t care where I end up, but I’m hoping that my uncle will take me in. I’ve never had the courage to ask him for help. If this whole thing blows up in my father’s face, then I have a better chance of getting my uncle to help me. You have proof of what he’s doing. I can threaten him now. I can tell him to go to rehab or I’ll expose the truth. You’ve given me the best birthday present anyone has ever given me,” he smiled, though his face shifted into a grimace. “I’m more afraid for you. From what you and Megan have told me about Phil, he definitely sounds like a psycho. I want you far away from him. I’ll help you in any way that I can, but I understand how impossible the situation is. I keep trying to figure out how to help you. If the kids at school find out that my father hits me, I’ll get more sympathy than snide comments. If the others find out about what Phil does to you, it won’t be easy. Some of them might accuse you of being the one who initiated it. They have no idea what you’re going through because they can’t even comprehend what it’s like to live as you have. They might attack you because they’ve never been taught the right way to help someone in your situation. It kills me that they might mock you for being sexually abused.”
For the second time tonight, my head was swimming. He had been trying to find a way to help me. I leaned my head against his coarse coat and hugged him.
“Thank you for understanding,” I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head and gently laid his cheek against my forehead. “You are the bravest person I have ever met. I’m not mad at you. You are the first person who has ever really tried to help me. I know that things could get really ugly, but I don’t blame you for any of this. I blame my father and my mother. I blame my other relatives who ignored the warning signs. I blame the cops who let my father go despite seeing the bruises on my arms and legs over the years. They always believed my father when he said that he would get help. They always listened to my mother when she said that she would protect me and help my father get treatment,” he said, holding me against him.
I could hear the resentment and disappointment in his voice. I was still trying to comprehend that he wasn’t angry with me, as I had anticipated.
“Thank you for not hating me,” I said as I stared up at the night sky, afraid of the future. I felt that I could face whatever was coming as long as Zack was with me.
“Thank you for trying to rescue me. I picked a good wingman,” he chuckled.
“I love you too,” I said, my voice wavering. I wanted to cry happy tears for once in my life. No matter what happened, we were together.
“Please tell me that you can go to the game this weekend. It’s the last game of the season before the playoffs. We have no chance of making it through the playoffs, but we always celebrate the last game since it could be the last,” Megan laughed as she leaned against my locker.
I was anxiously waiting for Zack, as I did every morning. I needed to see his face. During the past two weeks, we had made a pact that we would assess each other’s mood and create a damage report of anything that had happened during the previous night. It was our way of dealing with the stress of our turbulent lives. Zack’s house had been mostly quiet ever since he passed his driver’s test and spent as much time away from home as possible. I wasn’t sure why I was holding my breath this morning, but I understood how unpredictable our lives were. One wrong word, one wrong phrase could send his father into a rage.
“I might be able to go. Phil is visiting his family on Saturday. We were supposed to go with him, but my mom concocted a movie date with one of her best friends, so now I get to stay home alone,” I said, still searching for Zack.
Megan grabbed my arm a little too hard and I flinched. “Sorry,” she said when she saw my reaction. “I’m just excited that you get a night to yourself. I’m sure that my mom can give you a ride. This year they’re having a bonfire to celebrate our losing streak,” she laughed.
I nodded absently when I saw Zack’s scruffy hair through the sea of people in the hallway. He desperately needed a haircut.
“Sounds like fun,” I shrugged.
She moved to hug me but thought better of it when I raised my eyebrow at her and silently asked what she thought she was doing. I had proven over the years that I wasn’t a hugger, except when it came to Zack. Instead, she clasped her hands in front of her and smiled.
When Zack saw me, he smiled and nodded. It meant that he was okay. Letting out the breath I’d been holding, I relaxed and turned to Megan. “I’ll find a way to make it to the game,” I smiled.
She laughed and cheered. “Good. Make sure you dress warmly; it’s usually cold at the night games. We’ll bring blankets. My mom usually sends me with snacks and they sell hot chocolate at the game,” she explained since I had never been to a game before, despite secretly dating the backup quarterback on the team. Technically, he had been moved up to starting quarterback a few games ago when John, the actual quarterback, twisted his ankle during practice.
“Got it. I will wear extra socks,” I grinned.
I waited for Zack to put away his books and walk across the hallway to greet me.
“Morning,” he smiled. The sparkle was extra bright today, which meant that he was thinking about something good.
“Morning,” I replied. Though we made it a rule not to kiss in the middle of the hallway, like some other couples, the stupid grin on his face implied that he wanted to kiss me.
“I’m going to try to come to the last game of the season. Megan wrangled me into coming,” I said, hoping that it was okay for me to be at his game. We had never discussed whether or not he would be nervous or distracted if I went. He hadn’t bothered to invite me to a game because it would raise too many questions.
His grin got even bigger. “Seriously? You’re going to come?” he asked excitedly.
I shrugged. “I said I would try, as long as you’re okay with it. I don’t want to mess up your groove,” I chuckled.
He shook his head. “My groove will be fine. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to talk to you during the game, but just knowing that you’re there cheering for me will help. I might be able to talk to you afterwards. I heard something about a bonfire that we’re supposed to give speeches at. I’m confused by the whole thing, but I promised to participate,” he said, laughing at his cluelessness.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something amazing to say,” I said supportively.
His grin faded when he looked into my eyes. “I wish I could drive you home from the game,” he said, taking my hand into his.
I sighed and made a snap decision. “I’ll need a ride anyway. No one will be home,” I said shyly. For some reason, the thought of being alone in a car with him made me nervous, though in a good way. It was something normal couples did and I liked the idea of having a few normal minutes to enjoy my life.
His mouth fell open and he blinked a few times. “Really? I can take you home?”
I nodded, unable to speak. His excitement made my heart race and I was a little dizzy.
The happiness on his face was exhilarating. I wanted to bounce up and down like Megan did when she was thrilled about something, but I stood my ground. It was a minor victory, but I would take it.
It was easier than I thought to get permission for the football game. I waited until Phil had left early Saturday morning before I sprung the questio
n on my mom. She was happy that I was finally taking an interest in some kind of social activity since she believed that it was my lack of enthusiasm for school and sports that kept me home every night.
“I’ll be home late. I’ll leave something in the fridge for you to heat up for dinner. Make sure you wash the plates before you leave; otherwise, I will never hear the end of how irresponsible you are for leaving dirty dishes in the sink,” she said, rolling eyes at Phil’s rules.
I nodded. “There’s a bonfire afterward, and I don’t know how long that will last, but I promise to come home once it’s over. I know Megan wants to stick around for it,” I explained, hoping that it wouldn’t be a problem.
My mom patted my arm. “I know you are responsible. You’ll be driving next year and I trust that you will make the right decisions. I don’t care what Phil says, you need to have a life of your own. I know that he wants to protect you and make sure that you’re safe, but you have to agree that he goes overboard at times,” she said, folding the last of the laundry on her bed.
I had to bite my tongue so that I didn’t say something I would regret. Overboard was putting it mildly, but I couldn’t correct her.
I picked up the pile of folded towels and followed her to the linen closet in the hallway.
“Don’t you ever get tired of living by his rules? Half of them don’t even make any sense. I still don’t understand why you are expected to have the house clean by noon on a Saturday and why the grass has to be mowed by sundown the same night. Why can’t there be one cup in the sink? Why can’t we have leftovers or the same meal twice in a week? Don’t you think that this stuff is crazy? The other day I had to knock all the soup cans over because I couldn’t stand seeing them perfectly lined up with the labels facing outward. Doesn’t it drive you insane that you have to achieve perfection on his timetable?” I asked frustrated with how Phil had taken control of the way we lived our lives, especially since we never lived like this when it was just the two of us.
She paused with her arm frozen in the air as she was putting away the light blue towels. The frown on her face spoke volumes. She looked older in that moment than I had ever seen her.
“We have a good life here. He pays the bills and we have a nice house to live in. Yes, his expectations are unrealistic at times and I hate having to wake up early to do laundry on a Saturday morning instead of sleeping in, but that’s what he expects,” she shrugged, though I could hear the bitterness in her voice.
I quietly handed her the next batch of towels and stared at the ground. There was no way to win this argument because she believed she had to become Cinderella and cook and clean to pay for our room and board.
She turned and quickly changed the subject. “Did anyone ask you to the game?” she smiled slyly.
I quirked my mouth at her subtle attempt of asking me if I had a date. “Does Megan count?” I asked innocently.
Her face fell and she shook her head. “Are you sure that there aren’t any boys who have taken an interest in you? Have you tried to talk to them in class?” she asked as she cleverly slipped in a piece of advice.
I wanted to laugh at her eagerness in finding me a boyfriend. The sad part was that I wanted to talk about Zack. I knew that she would like him, though I had no idea how she would react to his situation. I frowned when I thought about her telling me to stay out of Zack’s problems and to find a more stable boyfriend. I worried what she would say if she found out about my attempts to help him.
“I’m quiet at school. I sit in class, write my notes, and wait patiently for the day to end. If it weren’t for Megan, Kris, and Jill, I probably wouldn’t talk to anyone,” I sighed.
The pain on my mother’s face shocked me. I could see her complete and utter lack of understanding of my situation cloud her face. She had no idea why I refused to engage with people. I wanted to scream the reason into her face, but instead I turned and ran downstairs to get away from her judgement of me.
Standing in the bathroom, I stared at my reflection. It bothered me that my mother would think I was strange or peculiar for not wanting to let people into my life. Seeing the hollow look in my eyes, I wondered what she really thought of me, not that it mattered. She could never understand. Even if she hated me once she learned the truth, I had to escape from this life.
A cheer went up in the stands across from us when the visiting team scored a touchdown. I knew enough about football to understand how to score points and who the quarterback was. Beyond that, I had Megan’s interpretation of the plays to help me comprehend the game.
“That was a late hit. The ref should have called something,” Megan groused in my ear.
I laughed at her blatant frustration over the ref’s inability to see straight in the dark. I grabbed a handful of popcorn and crunched loudly enough that it drowned out her complaints.
Jill rubbed her hands together and blew into them. “I can’t believe how cold it is. The weatherman was wrong about this one,” she said from Megan’s other side.
I nodded and rubbed my hands together as Megan shouted that the ref needed glasses. I was partially embarrassed by Megan’s rant, but happy to be part of something normal. I looked around at all the fans chatting and drinking their hot beverages. They were having fun, despite the fact that we were six points behind at the beginning of the fourth quarter.
I had spent most of the game watching Zack. I was amazed to see how fast and agile he was on the field. It was like all his doubts and anxieties disappeared the second his foot stepped out onto the green field. He was more confident than I had ever seen him. This was a different version of him, a third version compared to his reserved persona at school and the version of him that told me he loved me in the woods. Football Zack watched the entire field like a hawk. He knew where every player would be the second the football was moved off the line. It was obvious that he was a better player than most of the others on his team. The quarterback on the opposing team from St. Mary’s was impressive, but Zack had a better understanding of the game.
I wondered why his parents had sent him to our school given our dismal football record, until Megan mentioned something about Zack outshining everyone. Maybe being the best player, even on a losing team, counted for something.
Opening my pack of M&Ms, I almost threw them when a huge player tackled Zack. Everyone was mad that Zack had been sacked, but I was more worried about his spine. It occurred to me that maybe his father insisted on him playing to hide all his injuries, though I refused to accept that as a valid reason.
Everyone held their breath during the next play. When the ball was snapped, Zack cleverly outmaneuvered the oncoming giants trying to grab him and spun his left. Cheers spread across our side of the bleachers when the ball soared over everyone’s head and landed in the hands of the receiver, Andrew Caldwell. Andrew dove into the end zone and scored.
Megan bumped my shoulder. “Your boyfriend just tied the game,” she smiled at me. “Now Kyle just has to freaking kick straight and we might actually win this thing. I can’t imagine actually making it into the playoffs, but it would be awesome.” She pulled the blanket around her legs and clapped madly for the touchdown.
Luckily, the game slowed down after the extra point when the other team seemed to run out of steam. Our side collectively counted down the clock until the whistle blew, signifying the end of the game. The whoops and hollers that followed where loud enough to make me cover my ears. I laughed and cheered along with them, excited for the win. Megan had to be restrained by Jill before she accidently fell into the people standing below us. It was a spectacular moment to be a part of and I was grateful to be there.
The opposing fans slowly filtered out of the bleachers and exited the small field. The rest of us made our way down to the field to celebrate. Megan was beyond words as she spoke to random strangers and celebrated our win, as if she had personally scored the winning goal.
We stood around as they cleared the field and everyone made their way over to the p
atch of grass between the parking lot and the field where the wooden logs were standing in a cone-shaped pattern, waiting to be lit.
I had never been to an event like this before. The energy was overwhelming and everyone was happy and proud of our team. I couldn’t get over some of the fans who had painted their faces or worn colorful T-shirts to show their support. It was surreal and yet invigorating. I couldn’t help but smile and join in the celebration.
“I like seeing you smile,” said the only voice I wanted to hear so close to my ear.
I turned and found Zack wearing jeans and his blue and white varsity jacket. He only wore it during pep rallies and on game days, but today it suited the occasion.
I threw my arms around his shoulders and congratulated him. “My understanding of football is dismal, but I believe that you won the game,” I giggled.
He chuckled and pointed to the other members of the team who were crowding around the logs to his right. “They had a little to do with our win, but I think I helped a bit,” he said modestly as he winked at me.
“Never let it be said that you have an ego problem,” I said, releasing him lest some nosey parent interpret our simple hug as something more. I didn’t need someone ratting me out.
He nodded and smiled at me. He looked down at my hand as if he wanted to hold it, but I placed them behind my back and gave him a slight headshake. He looked sad, but he knew why I was hesitant.
“I need to come up with that amazing speech now,” he grimaced. He looked over his shoulder at his coach, who was motioning for him to join the team.
“Tell them how happy you are that they accepted you on to the team and how it feels like a family or something. Then shout, St. Theresa’s High School football team rules, and follow it up with a ‘Go Tigers’!” I suggested.
He seemed to appreciate my suggestion as he laughed at my motivational speech skills. He waved at me and trotted over to the rest of the team.
We Were Ghosts--The Secret Life of a Survivor Page 16