“Oh my gosh Michelle. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think before running here and showing off my dress.” Samantha walked over and sat down on the bed next to Michelle. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Samantha was pleading forgiveness with her eyes. Only then did Michelle understand that she must have looked miserable to have Samantha respond like that.
“I’m fine, I just had the weirdest déjà vu. I totally remembered this dream I had almost two months ago.”
Samantha didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know,” she said. “I still think I was being selfish.”
By the time Samantha left, Michelle did feel depressed about the formal. She wished she could just fall asleep and wake up after it was all over. The self-doubting feelings about who she was, what she looked like, and would anyone ever really like her, let alone love her, floated in and out of her thoughts, disturbing any concentration she had previously. She thought about Tim, even though she didn’t really fancy him all that much. Was he even thinking about her anymore, she wondered? She definitely used to have a huge crush on him, but those thrilling emotions and sensations like feeling her face warm up every time he talked to her, or her heart beating so fast and hard if he just walked past her, had begun to wane. Eventually they completely vanished, and yet she found that she missed them more than she actually missed him.
When it came to boys, Michelle always felt like she was two steps behind everyone else. These feelings had accompanied her even as far back as the third grade. While other girls were placing love notes inside boys’ school desks or lunch boxes, Michelle wondered what the buzz was all about. Her mom would describe her to family members as a late bloomer. She always hated that label, because it sounded so negative to be late in anything. Back then, when relatives would ask her if she had a boyfriend, her mother would always answer, “Oh no, Michelle is a good girl.” Michelle didn’t understand. What did being good have to do with having a boyfriend? After all, if somebody has a boyfriend it must mean that they like them, and being liked is a good thing. The whole thing puzzled her so much that she decided to just ignore it. That was until she developed indescribable feelings for a boy, Mark, in eighth grade.
Mark eventually asked Michelle to be his girlfriend, and they were known as an item throughout the school. Basically, they held hands during recess, called one another after school, and once he actually joined her family for a campout. But she grew tired of the situation very quickly, and the ‘going out’ business didn't make too much sense to her because they weren't ‘going’ anywhere. The magic was gone, just like that, although the fact that he tried to force his tongue down her throat didn't help matters either. Freshman year was completely boring, and sophomore year was when she first developed real feelings for Tim. Those feelings got worse and worse, because he was dating Bethany and the two of them looked to be madly in love. Michelle would brood over him in her journal and to her friends, complaining and trying to figure out why it was that he didn't even notice her. She compared herself to Bethany, who was perfect in her book. Bethany was tall, lean, just the right profile, and had the most beautiful wavy blond hair that bounced down her shoulders when she walked. Michelle would often look at herself in the mirror and feel depressed because she and Bethany had nothing in common physically. She just didn't measure up. However, towards the end of sophomore year Tim began to acknowledge her. At first it was a few smiles, then she would catch him looking at her, and eventually he found a way to talk to her through her friendship with Rachael and Anna. Michelle always wondered if Rachael and Anna became friendly to her on Tim’s request, because before that they had never really interacted. Whatever the case, she was smitten. When Tim and Bethany broke up around the beginning of the school year, Michelle felt that she would get her chance at last. But there she was, alone, sitting on her bed surrounded by books and papers, with winter formal only two days away.
It was past midnight when Michelle finally went to bed. Her dinner was left untouched and she had a terrible headache. Her mom gave her a Tylenol, and told her it was most likely due to her studying for so long without eating. But Michelle had no appetite, and she attributed that to her feeling sorry for herself over the stupid formal. The next day she felt just as bad, and she wondered if it could be some sort of a psychological thing, maybe stress or midterm anxiety.
Michelle eventually worked up the nerve to tell her mom about Italian class. She was ashamed, and her voice quivered when she told her about the cutting. Her mother was shocked. She reacted just as Michelle thought she would. She yelled at her for the cutting, asking her over and over again if that's the way she had raised her to deal with problems, “To run away from them, to lie and break school rules?” She was ashamed of her, and that was what really hurt Michelle on the inside. She had disappointed her mom and she had disappointed herself. She did something that she never thought she would ever do. What was happening to her? Michelle begged for her mom not to tell her dad, but her mom told her that she had no authority nor privilege to ask for anything of the sort. The matter was far too important not to be discussed with her father.
When her father heard what she had done, he looked at her as if he didn’t know his own child. “Why didn’t you ask for help if you were falling behind,” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Michelle said, unable to look him in the face. Her parents looked desperate. What were they supposed to do? This was more complex than just their youngest child breaking rules. It was about their daughter who had never had any problems sharing things with them. What had changed? No one seemed to have the answer for that, not even Michelle.
Michelle was back in her room. It was raining hard outside, and she wondered if this sky was crying with her as her tears stung her flushed cheeks. What was wrong with her she thought? She’s growing up to be a rotten individual, and she didn’t even know why. She eventually settled back into her studying, cramming as much Italian grammar into her head as she possibly could. She heard a quiet knock on the door, and watched her mom step into the room closing the door behind her. It must have been pretty late because her mom was already in her nightgown. “What time is it?” Michelle asked. It was 11:40 PM. Her mother sat on the bed next to her and just looked at her with an expression somewhere between pity and inquiry. She then put her hand to Michelle’s forehead. Michelle felt so little when she did that.
“You’re a bit warm,” her mother said.
Michelle was feeling as if a flush hung on her entire body, but she often felt that after she cried. “Mom,” she said, “I think I was too embarrassed to tell you, and I don’t even know why.”
“Does this have to do with your father being on the Town Council?”
Bingo! It hit Michelle like a runaway train. How did her mom know before she even knew? Since her dad had taken office, Michelle felt like she was on display. People who didn’t know her talked to her, and asked her about her family as if they knew them. She felt that if she wasn’t the perfect daughter of the perfect town councilman, that somehow she wasn’t holding up her part, and that she would ruin it for her father, ruin it for all of them. And so she kept her failings away from them, so as to not tarnish the family image.
“I’m so sorry Mom.” Michelle let out a huge cry and the tears and crying came out like they did when she was little, before she could control them. Her mom stroked her hair as Michelle laid her head on her lap. She wasn’t all grown up like she thought she was.
Michelle woke up, and from the darkness in her room and the visible section of hallway she could see under her door, she guessed that it must be the middle of the night. She had been having a nightmare, but she couldn’t remember what it was. She realized that she was freezing cold, and that her t-shirt and pajama pants were soaking wet. She was shivering. Michelle called out to her mother, who showed up within a millisecond to be by her side. Her mom switched on the light on the nightstand and surveyed Michelle’s condition with horror. Michelle was completely soaked in sweat and her hair was lim
ply arranged in clumps around her face. Her mom checked her temperature and shook her head at the result, 102 degrees.
“We’ve got to get you to the doctor tomorrow.”
Michelle immediately protested, “I can’t. It’s my last midterm tomorrow, remember?”
Her mom looked at her and smiled, “Sweetie, there are some things that are more important to me than you speaking Italian.”
“But Mom,” Michelle continued. “The teacher would never believe I was sick. Never. Not after all I’ve done.” She was looking down at the floor in embarrassment. Her mom assured her that all would be taken care of, and that in the bigger picture of life, if she had to repeat a class or attend summer school neither one of those things would mark her or blemish her future. Her mom gave her another Tylenol to reduce the fever and placed a wet towel on her forehead, then sat by her side until Michelle was asleep again.
When Michelle woke up, she could hardly muster a sound out of her parched and painful throat. Her mom was worried that she had caught strep throat; after all, it was the season for colds and flues. Michelle couldn’t believe her luck, and wondered if God or some other magical being had answered her prayers and caused her to fall sick, just so she could avoid her midterm. She knew that it was just a silly thought, but nonetheless she felt relieved, even if her sore throat was still begging for it’s own type of relief.
By the time Michelle asked about school, her mom had already made the proper phone calls and told her that she was not the only sick kid that had called in that morning. Some unlucky ones got it so bad that they had been forced to cancel all the arrangements they had made for the formal that evening. “At least you didn’t have to cancel anything or call a date to tell them you couldn’t go.” Her mom continued, “Can you imagine the disappointment that a date would feel getting such a call, and could the parents get their money back for the limousine service and…”
Michelle couldn’t take it anymore. “Mom!” she yelled, her poor throat trying to hold on to any vocal cord that was still working. “Why don’t you rub some salt on it too?”
Her mom looked a little hurt, but then realized why she was upsetting Michelle so. She apologized and Michelle accepted. Then her mom smiled at her and joked, “You know, gargling with salt is not such a bad idea.” They both laughed.
The doctor visit was miserable as usual. They got there early, only to wait with many other sneezing and whizzing patients, both young and old. While looking at a toddler who miserably fought to breathe out of his snotty nose, Michelle thought that even if you weren’t sick when you went to the doctor, you sure weren’t going to leave the office healthy. When they were finally called in, Doctor Hudson did the routine check up and took a throat culture to test for strep. She would have the results tomorrow. Meanwhile she prescribed Michelle a cough elixir with codeine and a week’s worth of antibiotics, to take only if the test came out positive. Otherwise, it was the standard ‘rest, drink fluids, and take a fever reducer when necessary’.
Since they were already out and it was only 10:30 AM, Michelle’s mother asked her if she felt well enough to go the mall with her. If not, she would drop her off at home first, then head back out. Although Michelle didn’t feel all that well, she enjoyed being with her mom, especially as she was doting over her like a mama cat over a crying kitten. Nope, she definitely didn’t want to stay home alone. They headed towards the mall in Napa, which was buzzing with people and activity. It was several days before Christmas and everyone was in a panic to buy the last few gifts. Michelle enjoyed all the excitement. The stores were covered with Christmas lights and decorations, and everywhere she looked the displays of goods looked better then ever. The usual Christmas music that they played over the sound system suddenly sounded like it belonged. When they had first begun playing the Christmas tunes it was in mid-October and she couldn’t stand them, in fact they drove her crazy, and yet there she was suddenly humming along to them.
Michelle’s mom had to return something at one of the big department stores. Up the escalators they rode to the second floor, when Michelle became a bit dizzy. The line for the returns window was so long that people had to snake back and forth like at the bank. Looking at the line and noticing that Michelle looked a bit pale all of a sudden, her mom suggested that she wait for her at the coffee shop across from the theater entrance. Michelle felt bad abandoning her mom to the nightmare line, but she could feel that her body was pushing itself to the limit and needed to rest before she fell flat-faced on the floor in front of everyone. She thanked her mom for the twenty-dollar bill she handed her, and made her way down to the Sweetnothings Café. Her body collapsed into the small wire bistro-style chair that was far from being comfortable, but it was better than the floor.
Michelle sat waiting for her name to be called when her drink was ready. She had ordered an eggnog latte, but was already regretting it because she remembered that dairy was not the best idea when one had upper respiratory ailments. But it had smelled so good and scrumptious when she was walking down towards the café; she had wanted one before she even knew what it was. Her name was finally called. She also bought herself one of those Madeline cookies, just because it was there next to the cash register. She didn’t even like them and they were way overpriced, but their mind games always worked on her. She was a sucker.
An early matinee must have just ended, because by the time Michelle sat back down at her table there was a small crowd in front of the theater. Maybe she should have gone to see a movie instead of having coffee, but she would never want to go alone, and besides her mom could be done any second. Wishful thinking Michelle thought, it would be a Christmas miracle if she got through that line in less than an hour. Michelle was trying to get a better look at the movie posters to see what was playing when her eyes landed on a familiar face. Yes, it was him. Tall and slender, impeccably dressed, grayish golden hair, deep-set eyes and skin that although wrinkled by age, looked almost translucently glowing. Xander. She was sure of it. What if her mom returned to see her talking to him and asked where the two had met? No! That meeting cannot, must not take place. Michelle almost jumped out of her chair, but where would she go in such a public space. For a moment she even thought about ducking under the table. Get a hold of yourself, she thought to herself. He can’t see you from where he’s standing.
But just as she lowered her guard, Xander started walking towards the café. Michelle looked behind her. No, there were no restroom doors anywhere. She scanned the cafe, desperately trying to figure out a way to blend in with some of the other customers; she didn’t recognize anyone there. And it was too late anyway. If she made a quick move now she was sure to draw attention to herself. If only she had a book or a magazine to hide behind. Xander was about to enter the ‘order’ line, and Michelle was sitting to the left of the metal divider, the first table in his line of sight. But he walked right past her and went on to order his drink. Wow, she thought to herself, how lucky she was, not even a nod of recognition. It was as if she wasn’t there at all.
Michelle exhaled in relief. The danger was over. She reached for her drink only to see that her hands were still shaking so hard that she almost tipped her cup over. She immediately hid her hands inside her pockets, hoping that no one else caught sight of her wiggly fingers. She then watched Xander walk past, his back turned to her. He was carrying one of those cardboard drink trays and it seemed to be full. Why did he need so many drinks, Michelle wondered? Who cares, just as long as he goes away, and quickly, before her mom gets back. Yet her curiosity got the best of her and she continued to follow him with her eyes. Xander turned right and disappeared into the central court. Maybe he didn’t recognize her. Michelle considered that it had been Halloween after all, and she had been wearing tons of makeup with her hair painfully pulled up into a tight bun so her crown could fit on her head. Yes, she was being paranoid after all. There was no possible way he could have identified her.
Michelle heard her name being called, and it sta
rtled her so badly that she physically jumped out of her seat. This time she did knock her cup over, but luckily it was empty. Her mother was motioning her to hurry up, pointing at her wristwatch for added urgency. It was close to 1:30 PM and neither one of them had eaten any lunch. Michelle wasn’t hungry after having her sugary drink, and she was still sick and couldn’t taste much anyway. But her mom was hungry and wanted to get something to go before driving back to Willow’s Creek. Michelle tried to think up any excuse to tell her mom not to go to the central court where all the food vendors were, but she couldn’t come up with anything. She reminded herself that even if Xander were there, he obviously wouldn’t recognize her now if he hadn’t just a few minutes earlier.
Michelle and her mother were standing in line at the Gyromaniac; generic Greek food at it’s best. While her mom was ordering, Michelle scanned the busy room for Xander. And just as she feared, there he was in the far left corner close to the shoe repair kiosk. But what really shocked Michelle more than seeing Xander again was who he was with.
Xander was standing and talking to a group of young guys. Some were casually seated on the bench sipping their drinks, obviously the ones he had purchased from Sweetnothings Café. Michelle squinted her eyes, trying to get a better look at them. What was Xander doing with a bunch of young guys, she thought to herself, and who are they? She’d never seen any of them around before. She could almost make out a few of the faces from where she was standing, but passersby kept walking into her line of view. Something wasn’t quite right about the picture, but Michelle couldn’t put a finger on what it was. Her mom finished paying for her order and started heading in the direction where Xander was standing. Michelle followed her, but everything in her body wanted to run in the opposite direction. Why did they park on that side of the mall? Could she convince her mom to leave from another exit? What kind of reason could she come up with, and quick? It was too late. In a few seconds she would pass by Xander; her only hope was that he wouldn’t turn around and recognize her. As she got closer to the group, her eyes widened in amazement.
Pulse of Heroes Page 5