by Jamie Canosa
“No, you don’t get it, Mom. She gets that shit from everyone else in her life. Kids at school, that asshole ex-boyfriend of hers, even her own mother, for chrissakes. You should hear the crap that woman heaps on her. Always telling her she’s not good enough. Making her feel unworthy. Unloved. Like she’s some kind of burden. And she believes it. Every damn word. She can’t see any of the good in herself because no one shows her. I am trying. I’m trying to make her see, but then Cal comes in and says stuff like that. There’s no way she’ll believe it’s not about her. Doesn’t matter what I say now. She is convinced she’s not good enough for anyone. And now Caulder’s gone and—”
“He didn’t know, Kiernan. This is not entirely his fault. You know he’s just—”
“I know, but she doesn’t.”
“Kiernan. Honey. Don’t you think you have enough to worry about? She seems like a very sweet girl and I’m sorry she has it rough, but her happiness is not your responsibility.”
“It is! I made a promise. I promised myself I’d help her see the truth before it was too late. So, yes, I do feel responsible for her.”
Holy crap. I wanted to move. From the moment I heard mention of my mother, I wanted to run for the hills, but my feet were cemented to the floor. Now I wished I could grow wings, or teleport, or vanish into thin air. Anything that would get me away from that place. He felt responsible for me? Like what? Some kind of damn life sponsor? A pathetic, loser, reject outreach program? I was such a fool. I actually thought . . . Stupid. So, so stupid.
Tears blurred my vision as I turned to make my escape. They pooled so fast, I had to blink them away to make out the figure standing less than two feet away. Caulder. And he’d heard everything.
“Jade, I—I’m sorry. I—”
“Oh, God.” Not him, too. “Don’t.”
“Wait—”
I started down the hall, gaining speed with every step. By the time I reached the front door, I was at a full sprint. Not stopping to gather my coat, I tore out into the storm. Rain washed over me in waves—cold, stinging drops—as lightning ripped through the sky. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of it. Or me. Or Kiernan. Or Caulder. Or anything.
For one completely deluded minute I actually let myself believe Kiernan cared about me. Not in a ‘he’s a nice guy’ way, but really cared. He was a nice guy, though, and I should have been grateful just to have him in my life. Stopped being so selfish. That’s what my brain argued, but my heart was crying too hard to hear it.
His stupid rich-people driveway never seemed to end, but I’d made it to the main road before I heard tires eating up the gravel behind me. I kept walking along the shoulder, hoping it was a stranger that would drive on by. Knowing it wasn’t.
"Jade, wait!" The car rolled up beside me as the passenger window lowered.
“Don’t!”
“Don’t, what?”
I couldn’t believe he was playing dumb with me. “Just don’t! I heard you. I heard you talking to your mom, okay? So, don’t.”
“Jade—”
“I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. You’re not responsible for me, Kiernan. I’m not some damn charity case!” The pathetic tears continued to fall and I could only hope it was raining hard enough to disguise them.
“No!” He slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park, abandoning it right there on the side of the road as he climbed out to stalk after me. “You’re not. That’s not what I meant.”
“You said you felt responsible.” I shoved his chest with all my might for all the good it did me. In a flash, he had both of my wrists restrained and the rest of me pinned up against a tree. "I don't want your pity, Kiernan."
“I don’t pity you." He leaned in close enough that his spicy breath coated my lips and invaded my nose. His usual spikes were saturated and plastered to his forehead and ears. "I pity your mother because she has this amazing human being in her life and she doesn’t even recognize it. She can’t even see how special you are and how lucky that makes her. She is so wrapped up in her own misery she’s missing out on the joy of knowing you. The joy I’ve gotten to experience every single day since I met you. I don't pity you, Jade. But I do worry about you."
“Well don’t!” I managed to rip my hands free and planted them both in his chest again. He went a grand total of absolutely nowhere.
“I do. I can’t help it. You scare the crap out of me.”
Okay, not what I expected. “Why?”
Kiernan shook his head. Cold, wet raindrops dripped from the ends of his hair and slid over his nose and cheeks. Sketched his tight lips, pressed into a hard line so close to mine. And dangled from his chin before taking their final plummet to the earth. “If something happened . . . Your life could be amazing, Jade. It will be if you’d just live it.”
Oh fantastic, he still thinks I’m suicidal. “I’m not going to off myself, Kiernan, so stop freaking out.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about!”
“Then, what—?”
“There’s a big difference between living and existing. And that’s all you’ve been doing. Existing in this shell you’ve created to protect yourself. But that’s not living. No one can live alone, Jade. Not even you.”
“I’m not alone.” My mouth formed the words before my brain even saw them coming. Wasn’t I? My mother didn’t want me. Doug despised me. School was a nightmare. But, no, standing there, in that moment, I didn’t feel alone. For the first time in possibly ever, I didn’t feel alone, because . . . “I have you.”
An odd combination of warmth and pain flooded Kiernan’s face. He reached for my cheek before hesitating to actually touch me. Why? I had no idea. I’d just given him the green light of green lights. Unless, he didn’t want to—
All thoughts vaporized as his hand brushed over my skin, working its way to the back of my head where his fingers twined through my hair. His lips weren’t far behind and when they made contact, light burst behind my closed eyes. I think my brain may have actually exploded as my heart gave a loud thump as though it were coming to life for the first time.
His golden lashes fanned his cheeks when he pulled back, until he pressed his forehead to mine and slowly opened his eyes. Staring into them, I was hypnotized. Completely captured by him with absolutely no desire to escape.
“Yes. You do have me.”
Thirteen
When Kiernan dropped me off at home, Mom was drunk, which was sort of like saying the sky was blue. The only thing that varied was the degree of blueness—or drunkenness, should the metaphor withstand idiocy. Tonight was a Caribbean blue kind of night.
I could hear her halfway down the hall, and she wasn’t happy, arguing with someone on the phone or herself, which was known to happen on occasion. Either one was bad news. What made it worse was that Kiernan had insisted on walking me to my door. And not just the door to the building, oh no, Prince Charming had to escort me all the way upstairs.
He glanced my way and I winced as a string of muffled curses filtered through the thin walls. I knew she wasn't arguing with another person in the flesh because no one else was allowed inside the apartment. Ever. It was an unwritten rule. One that went right out the window when Kiernan followed me in without being invited.
“You!” She whirled on me so fast, eyes bloodshot and narrowed, that my heart kicked into overdrive and I backed into the wall beside the door without thinking. “Where the hell have you been?”
The truth is, I was terrified of her. I had no logical reason to be. She was nearly as short as me and just as thin, consisting on a primarily liquid diet. She’d had trouble getting around since her injury and she was almost never in any condition to be any sort of threat, physically. But she had the sharpest tongue of anyone I’d ever met. Her words alone could—and did—cut me open and bleed me more effectively than any knife. Every time she opened her mouth, I’d mentally cower in fear of what would inevitably come out of it.
“What’s going on?” My rea
ction to her wasn't lost on Kiernan.
“Who the hell are you?” My mother set her sights on Kiernan and my heart tumbled over itself.
“Kiernan Parks, ma’am. I’m your daughter’s . . .” I teetered on the edge of desperate to hear him say ‘boyfriend’ and desperate to shove him out the door and lock it behind him.
“Fuck buddy?”
Oh, Christ, definitely should have gone with option number two.
“Excuse me?” Kiernan looked annoyed and I couldn’t blame him. He didn’t deserve her vulgar wrath.
“You heard me. If you’re here to—”
“I’m here to make sure Jade got home safely after having dinner with me. I care about your daughter.”
Mom scoffed. “Sure you do. That's what they all say.”
“I do. Very much.”
“Why?” Her eyes raked over me and I wanted to crawl underneath the tattered carpet and die on the spot. “Why would anyone give a damn about her?”
Irritation morphed into anger. I could see the burning indignation in his eyes and knew this was only going to get worse.
“You should go.” Before Kiernan could get another word out, I’d manhandled him back toward the door.
“Jade . . .” He gaze dropped to me, eyes softening to a shared pain between us, but the frown remained in place. “I don’t think—”
“Just go. I can handle her.” I had one hand on the door, trying to shut it before he was even all the way out.
Kiernan dropped his voice to barely a whisper, so that only I could hear him. “You shouldn’t have to ‘handle’ her. Not alone.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it. No big deal. Really.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. I was so totally full of shit. Of course it was a big deal. My heart was pounding away at whatever awaited me the moment that door shut. But if I couldn’t get Kiernan to leave, it would only be worse.
“Jade—”
“Please, Kiernan? Trust me. Just go.”
He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, worrying it between his teeth as he took one more look behind me. “Call me. Later. If you need me. Even if you don’t. Just call me so I know you’re alright. Okay?”
“Alright.”
“Promise.”
“I promise, Kiernan. Go.” He let me shove him the rest of the way out the door. I felt slightly bad about practically slamming the thing in his face, but when I turned around, all thoughts of Kiernan disintegrated. I had bigger problems.
It was a long night. She started with Kiernan and went on from there, outlining each one of my failures and shortcomings, as though I wasn’t keenly aware of every single one of them. Her words tearing in to me, ripping me open, leaving behind scars no one could see. But I felt them. I felt them all as I stood there weathering blow after blow. I didn’t bother fighting back. What would be the point? She wouldn’t hear me if I did, and nothing she said was untrue.
I told myself to breathe, relax. That the stabbing pains in my chest were just my feelings being torn to shreds. You didn’t need feelings to live. My mother proved again and again that you didn’t really even need a heart. What good did they do besides cause you pain, anyway?
It was the insults hurled at Kiernan that were the hardest to ignore. Her insistence that he didn’t care about me. That no one ever would or could. That he was only using me. But I did, I ignored it all until I managed to squeeze past her and retreat down the hallway into the relative safety of my bed. Through the paper thin walls, I could hear her continue to rant and rave about how she got stuck with me and the many ways I’d ruined her life.
I should be grateful just to be alive, that she decided to keep me, that she didn’t ship me off to foster care, but part of me almost wished she had. How ungrateful was that?
I knew Kiernan was waiting for my call, but I just didn’t have the energy to talk anymore. Tugging the phone out of my pocket, I plugged in a quick text:
All’s good. Just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.
Seconds later, his response chimed in.
You sure? Can I call you?
Really. Too tired to talk now. Going to bed.
This time his reply took a little longer, but when it did, I sighed with relief.
Okay tomorrow. Good night. Sweet dreams.
Burying the phone under my pillow, I closed my eyes and tried to tune out my mother’s slurred words. Sleep didn’t come easy.
***
I stared at the yellowing, off-white wall in front of me while the alarm clock blared its obnoxious warning of the time. I’d been awake for hours and still hadn’t the energy to reach back and silence it. As I lay there, gathering the willpower to face yet another day in this miserable thing called life, I felt the walls close in. The lid fall into place on the box that encompassed my heart. The one stuffed with packing peanuts and labeled ‘fragile’. The one that kept me sheltered and protected. And alone. Because the one thing I’d learned again and again, the thing I’d dared to forget and had been cruelly reminded of once more, was that alone was the only safe way to be.
My relationship—if you could call it that—with my mother was complicated enough. Throwing anyone else into the mix was just asking for trouble. The kind of trouble it had brought me last night. The kind I didn’t have the will to face. I was just so damn tired of trying. I tried and I tried, convinced myself that if I tried hard enough I could have it all. A normal life, normal relationships, and still keep my mother happy, but it was impossible. That last one alone was a full-time job that I couldn’t even manage more than half the time. So I was giving up.
I don’t know when I decided it—sometime in the late, dark hours of the night while I lay there trying to figure out what had gone wrong, and the only answer I could come up with was ‘me’. I’d gone wrong. Time and time again, I’d messed things up. I was tired of cleaning up my messes, wading through the endless fallout. It was easier just to hide from them.
I lay there, watching myself throw up the proverbial white flag and I couldn’t even find the energy to care. Normal was never going to be a part of my life. The things I wanted most were out of reach. I could stretch as long and as far as I wanted, but I’d never lay hands on them. I’d only wear myself out in the process.
Rolling off the mattress, I slapped the clock and the room fell into bitter silence. Schools didn’t accept white flags, so no matter what I had to get my ass in gear. I hopped in the shower and let my hair air-dry while I rooted through my dresser. I don’t know why it always took me so long. It was the exact same selection I’d had to choose from for the past three years. I should have had it down to a science by now, but my hair was completely dry—and frizzing like an electrocuted poodle—by the time I’d pulled on a pair of faded jeans and an old gray sweater.
Back in the bathroom, I stared at my reflection, trying to figure out what to do about it. I rooted through the vanity and drawers beneath the sink for a hair tie, but came up empty. Instead, in the bottom drawer, beneath an array of randomly accumulated medical supplies and a few outdated hair products, I found an old curling iron.
A few years earlier, I’d come across an old photograph of my mother stashed away in a box. She looked beautiful. Back before the drinking, before she stopped caring. Her hair was long and smooth, hanging softly around her shoulders in a waterfall of dark curls.
We’d always looked similar. The same eyes, slightly pointed nose, thin brows, rounded chin. Fishing out the iron, I plugged it in and sat it on the sink. Maybe with a little work, I could accomplish the same result. Maybe she’d see me and remember . . . that we’re family. That I was her daughter. Maybe she’d see even just the tiniest bit of herself in me the way that I did.
Carefully sectioning out my hair, it took a few tries to figure out what I was doing. The good thing—the only good thing—about having thin hair was that it didn’t take very long. Fifteen minutes later, I studied my reflection and blinked. We really did look the same. It was almost uncanny how much I looked like her. There was no w
ay she couldn’t notice. Unless, of course, she was passed out cold on the couch, surrounded by beer cans.
Disappointed, and a little surprised that I was still capable of feeling that particular emotion, I grabbed my books and headed for the bus stop. Kiernan wasn’t there. He wasn’t outside waiting for me. I hadn’t heard one word from him all morning, which, now that I thought about it, surprised me. I was sure that after last night, he’d have been on my case by now. Not that I didn’t appreciate the reprieve, but I wasn’t fooling myself. Sooner or later, I’d have to deal with him and he wasn’t going to go easily. I’d almost rather have gotten it over with than have it looming over me all day.
It became a non-issue the minute I walked into the school building and Kiernan fell into step beside me. “Hey. There you are. Sorry I wasn’t there to pick you up this morning. There was somewhere I needed to be before school . . . Hey, are you alright?”
Hoping he wouldn’t notice that I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him was a fool’s dream. “I’m fine.”
It was the coward’s answer. We needed to have this conversation—Kiernan deserved the truth—but I just wasn’t ready yet. Upping my pace, I aimed to visit my locker and get to class before any more words could be exchanged. My eyes tracked the progress my ratty sneakers made over the scuffed tile, knowing full well that one glimpse of them would tell Kiernan more than I wanted him to know. Somehow he saw through my eyes, inside of me. To that place I needed to keep boxed up and hidden. I couldn’t let him go there, anymore. It was just too dangerous.
“Jade.” With his longer legs, it was no challenge for Kiernan to keep pace with me. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”
As usual, he was not content to let me hide. With a sigh, I spun in my combination and threw open my locker, scanning the upper shelf for the text I needed.
“Jade?”
“I’m fine, Kiernan.” I forced my eyes to his face for the first time and was startled by what I saw. “Are you? What happened to your nose?”