“Bec, please.”
“Whatever, Jason! I’m leaving!”
I wait to peek out until the door clicks closed, taking a seat once I verify Becky and Jason are gone.
Arissa crawls into a chair. “That was insane.”
“Well, after all that, I can say I don’t miss high school at all,” Rose says.
We snicker together, stopping when Jason returns. “Do you mind if I talk to Sara?” he asks, his tone somber.
“Not at all,” Andrew answers, but no one moves.
“Uhm, do you mind if we talk alone here?” He runs a hand through his hair. “Becky is waiting for her ride out front and I don’t want her to see Sara back at our table,” he says, hooking a thumb at the window.
“Right,” Rose says, a sly smile crossing her lips as she stands, glancing at Andrew. “Let’s go raid their pizza.”
“All over it!” Andrew takes her hand.
Arissa rolls her eyes before following them.
Jason sits in Andrew’s vacated chair. “I’m sorry,” he says, leaning into the table and keeping his hands in his lap.
Being threatened in public is enough to unhinge me, but I let my chagrin speak instead. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
“Have I?” he asks, folding his arms on the table.
“Yes. What exactly are you sorry for this time?”
“How I handled this. That she tried to come after you.”
“Yeah, you should be sorry about all that,” I say, my irritation increasing. “What were you thinking, J?”
“I was going to break up with her this weekend. I just didn’t expect it to be tonight or so public. I seem to lose my ability to think clearly when I’m near you.”
My breath catches at his admission, erasing the aggravation. I have an effect on someone that isn’t directed back at me with derision or violence.
In spite of this knowledge, I want to keep pushing him away for both our sakes. This conversation gets harder each time we have it, because I want to reel him in and never let go just as much as I need to push him away.
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about ditching your date,” I caution him.
“There won’t be a next time. My next date will be with you and there is no way I’d ditch you.” His hand curls over my forearm.
I stare blankly while my heart pounds furiously in my chest.
“I told you I’d wait forever for you and I mean it.” He gives my forearm a gentle squeeze.
“J, I can’t—“
“You’re not asking,” he interrupts, slipping his hand into mine. “I’m choosing this, Parker. I would rather not date than hurt you.”
“You know they’re going to say no, right?”
He smiles. “They can’t say no forever.”
When I arrive home the following morning, Mother and Victoria are getting ready to go shopping for the day.
“Can I go to the football game next week with Jason?” I ask.
“A boy asked you out on a date?” she asks, raising her brows.
“Sara has a boyfriend. Sara has a boyfriend,” Victoria taunts.
“Yes, Mother. That’s why I’m asking,” I say, exasperated.
“Watch your attitude.”
I fold my hands in front of me. “Yes, Mother.”
“Sara has a boyfriend. Sara has a boyfriend,” Victoria continues.
I glower at my sister and she sticks out her tongue.
“I’ll talk to your father about it later,” Mother answers.
I exhale. “Okay,” I say, turning to leave when my father walks in.
“Well, there you are,” Mother says. “Sara wants to go on a date.”
“A boy asked you out?” Father asks, scowling.
“Yes.”
“And you want to go on the date?”
“Yes.” More than anything.
“Then the answer is no.”
I open my mouth to argue, but stop myself and go to my room instead. I curl up on my bed, fighting the urge to cry.
Sara must remain miserable.
Father skulks in like a predator; head low and eyes never leaving his prey. “What makes you think any boy would want you? You’re damaged goods,” he says, stripping off his shirt and shorts.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Becky lies in wait for me, arms akimbo, at the door of English class Monday morning. Arissa goes inside, leaving me to deal with the spurned one.
“I really don’t see what he sees in you.” She sneers and crosses her arms.
Neither do I. “I had nothing to do with Friday night.” I shove my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, shifting my weight onto my right foot.
“Sure looked like you did when I saw you together at Joe’s.”
“What happens and what things look like can be two different things,” I offer as the only explanation.
“Sure,” she says.
“Seriously, Becky, Jason and I are friends. That’s it. He does what he wants to do and I have no say in his decisions. Even if I want to date him, my parents won’t let me.”
She regards me with resentment in her eyes and I find myself in a staring contest. I sigh to cover up the tears trying to force their way to the surface. It’s bad enough I have to defend myself at home for things I don’t do.
Jason joins us from the classroom and ends the stare down. “Leave her alone, Bec. I told you she had nothing to do with me breaking up with you,” he says, mixing sternness and compassion in his tone. Heavy on the compassion.
Becky drops her arms, pivots on her heels, and walks off in a huff.
He waits until Becky is gone before setting his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s that word again,” I say, my tone laced with bitterness. Bitter that I had to deal with Becky. Bitter that my parents won’t let me date Jason. Bitter that I have no way of stopping my father from taking what he wants from me.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
My eyes bore into his. Anger I keep bottled about my parents and my sister threatens to break, sending shards into everyone nearby.
“I’m—I’m—“ he stammers. “I’m going inside.”
I follow him in and take my seat behind him.
He turns around and gives me a small smile. “Did you talk to your parents?”
“They said no.”
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I answer, averting my eyes. The memory of Father stripping off my clothes and strapping my wrists together with his belt plays in my head like an unwanted channel change from sitting on the remote control.
“She was like this all the way to school this morning,” Arissa interjects.
He looks back at me, but I keep my head down and busy myself with preparing for class. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“What’s to talk about?”
“Something is obviously bugging you. If it’s Becky, I’ll talk to her again and make sure she leaves you alone.”
“Drop it!” I yell, slamming my pen down.
Everyone in the room startles and stares. I fold my arms and drop my head on them, crying. The more Arissa and Jason try to console me, the harder I sob.
Arissa walks with me to the office while Jason stays behind to tell Mr. Martin where we went when he returns. She gives me a hug before leaving me. “Whatever it is, Sara, we only want to help make it better.”
I refuse to talk to anyone in the office. No telling what my parents will do to me if I say anything, even if it has nothing to do with them.
I open the front door to Mother’s screams from the kitchen, paralyzing me. They’re never home when I get home from school.
“What the fuck are we going to do? See what you’ve done? All because you can’t control your temper or keep it in your fucking pants!”
“We aren’t going to do anything because they don’t know a fucking thing!” Father shouts.
“We never should’ve allowed her to be friends with that bitch across the st
reet.”
“Arissa doesn’t know anything. Neither do her parents!”
“I can’t believe you fucking did this to me! You never fucking think, Simon!” she shrieks.
“Shut up, you fat whore!”
“Make me, you limp prick!”
Glass breaks and bodies hit the wall. The angry shouting turns into moans. I sneak into my room and sit at my desk with my homework.
My door flies open while I concentrate on Biology homework. I jolt and twist around in my seat to my parents standing in the doorway.
“What did you tell them?” Mother asks.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to us,” Father says.
“I’m not.”
“What did you say to them?” he repeats the first question.
“I didn’t tell them anything. They kept asking me what was wrong, but I didn’t say a word.”
“Why were you in the office?” she asks.
“I was crying and couldn’t stop before English, so Arissa walked to the office.”
“What were you thinking?” she screams. “You have ruined me, goddammit!”
Always asking what I was thinking and making it about her because I swear, I’m not a human being to them. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You allowed Arissa to take you to the office. They called us asking questions,” she says in rabid hysterics. “It’s bad enough we have to put up with the Jerichos.” The heel of her hand presses her temple and her eyes close.
“You’re grounded for the rest of the week,” Father says, leaving with Mother behind him.
I wait a few minutes and then pound the side of my fist on my desk at the unfairness of it all. All I did was go to the office before class until I got myself together and I get grounded for it. Life was simpler without friends, but I wouldn’t trade the two of them for that life again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The next day, the doorbell announces a visitor in the middle of doing the dinner dishes. No one comes to the house except for Arissa and she would call first.
“You what?” my father shouts.
I turn off the water and strain to listen.
“Please, sir. I would like to take your daughter out on a date,” Jason states.
My heart leaps into my throat and lodges there, threatening to cut off my air supply. I force a deep breath to clear the airway. No, J. What are you doing? It won’t work!
“Didn’t she already tell you we said no?” Father asks.
“Yes, sir. But, if you would just listen for a minute, I’ll tell you what my plans for the date are.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you are a fair and honorable man.”
No, he’s not!
“You don’t even know me,” Father says.
“You’re right, sir—“
“Quit calling me sir!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but my parents taught me to be respectful of adults.”
I set the sponge down and tiptoe to the corner, peeking around at the front door. Father stands with his feet planted slightly apart and his arms crossed over his chest.
“You have one minute,” he says, glancing at his watch.
“I would like to take Sara to the football game Friday and then out for pizza. My parents will be with us and she’ll be home by midnight.”
A long uncomfortable silence hangs in the air.
“She’s grounded for the rest of the week.”
“I know, sir. But it was my fault she left class before it started. I pressured her to tell me why and it upset her. She felt like the only thing she could do was leave.”
“She’s still grounded.”
“May I take her to the football game next weekend?”
“We’ll see about that, young man,” he answers, then shuts the door in Jason’s face.
I scramble back to the sink and wipe down the counter. Large fingers tangle themselves in my hair and wrench my head back. My hands cover Father’s on instinct, struggling to pull my head up without tearing my hair out.
“What kind of game are you playing?”
“I’m not playing any game,” I answer, closing my eyes and bracing myself for his next move.
He yanks my head harder. “Don’t lie to me.”
I let out a scream.
His face is less than an inch from mine. “I want to know what you are up to.”
“Nothing!” I cry out.
“Lies!” He jerks my head again.
“I’m not lying!”
“Then why was that boy here tonight? Did you think we would give in to someone else?”
“No! I didn’t have anything to do with that. I didn’t know he was coming. I’m not lying. Why would I? What would I get from it?”
“Nothing. You’d never get anything. You’ll never get anything if your friends run interference for you.”
I’ll never get anything regardless.
His grip tightens and I wince. Pain shoots from each shaft of hair he pulls, but if I scream any more than I already have, he’ll make sure to double the pain.
I know retribution, in his interpretation of the word, is coming, but I don’t know what it is.
He shoves my head forward, submerging my face in the dishwater. I release his hand and grip the counter for purchase, fighting against his strength to bring my head up. My toes scrape over the mat underneath us, searching for a foothold. My lungs constrict without oxygen and I exhale what little air is left, the bubbles floating up, almost tickling my cheeks. Lightheaded, I try to shake him off.
I’m going to drown in the dishwater.
Father hauls my head back, almost mercifully. I know he only does it so he won’t have to explain how his daughter died. I gasp air in, then cough when the tinge of the dirty, soapy water enters my mouth.
“No boy could ever love damaged goods like you,” he says, shoving me to the ground.
I remain in a crumpled heap, fighting to regulate my breath as tears flow unrestrained.
One boy does love me, even if he doesn’t know I’m damaged goods.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The grass in the quad is cool beneath me as the sun warms me from above. Jason eats a sandwich from home in front of me. Groups of friends are scattered around us. Some are quietly eating and talking. Others are telling jokes and goofing off. Arissa is off somewhere with Bobby, a boy in our English class.
“I’m sorry about your father getting mad,” he says.
“You have to understand, my parents aren’t like yours. You can’t rationalize with them because they do what they want, when they want. It doesn’t matter if it’s fair or not,” I explain.
“I just want to take you on a date.”
“I know you do. But, it’s not going to happen, no matter how much I ask.”
Sara must remain miserable.
“What if we did a group date?” he asks.
“They’d never go for that.”
“They might if you told them you wanted to go out with a bunch of your friends.”
“Jason, I don’t have a bunch of friends. I have you and Arissa. That’s it.”
“Well, we have friends and they can be your friends too.”
“They won’t buy it,” I say, hanging my head.
His fingers intertwine with mine in the grass so no one else can see. His warmth flows into my hand and spreads through me like a drug, inviting me to give in. To ride on a cloud, carefree and happy.
But my father’s voice keeps me chained, No boy could ever love damaged goods like you.
“What if we kept it here?” he suggests. “At school? If we happen to go to the same places outside of school, then so be it.”
“Are you serious?” I can’t believe he’s asking that. He knows about my parents’ spies here.
“Yes.”
“If I try to do it on the sly…I don’t even want to think about what they would do.” I know exactly what my father would do.
“How
bad could it be?” he asks, as if he just caught a glimpse of what I’ve hidden from them.
“The worst,” I reply.
He pauses a minute. “I won’t push it then. But this won’t change how I feel about you, Parker. Not one bit.”
Hot tears well up and I tip my head down, letting my hair hide them. Jason cradles me into his chest, the scent of his cologne sitting on his shirt as if waiting for me. This is where I want to be, but my parents keep denying membership.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I push myself up from a huddled position at the cool porcelain toilet and drag the back of my hand over my mouth. I check the orange-ish vomit in the bowl, and my stomach lurches. I know I have nothing left, but the dry heaves continue as I clutch the toilet seat.
I brush my teeth once the heaving subsides and wonder who the ghost with darkness living under green eyes is in the mirror. Seven straight days of this has not been kind to me.
I find my mother in her bathroom applying mascara, wearing a green silk blouse and black pencil skirt.
“Mother.”
She draws back, but continues with her makeup without looking at me, even in the mirror. “What now?” she asks, irritated.
“I need to see Dr. B.”
“What for?”
“I just threw up again.”
She drops her tube of lipstick, pressing her hand to my forehead. “You’re not feverish.”
“It’s the seventh day in a row, Mother.” I keep my tone serious in the hopes she won’t brush me off.
She straightens, giving me a scrutinizing once over. Her hard gaze shifts into something different. Something I’ve never seen because they’ve always looked upon me with cruelty and disdain.
She snatches her phone off the counter and scrolls with her thumb. “Go wait in your room.”
I’m checking that I have everything I need for school in my backpack when she comes to my room five minutes later.
“I’m picking you up from school at one.” She hands me a folded piece of paper. I already know it’s a note for the office. The coldness in her eyes is gone, yet she keeps them averted.
I hold my breath, unable to turn away from the frog splayed belly-side up like a pet begging to be rubbed. Only the frog isn’t a pet. It’s dead and I have to dissect it with Jason, who looks too eager wearing a half-grin, an apron, and safety goggles.
Family Ties Page 7