by Mj Fields
He steps back and winks. “Out of respect.”
Frank walks in and announces, “Leaving after breakfast.”
Obviously, I knew that they would be leaving, but it surprises me.
Ben catches this and gives me a sweet slow wink. “Sure thing, Dad.”
We sit and eat, his foot against mine under the table, and listened to Dad and Frank talk about what else … farming.
Cleaning up after breakfast, I tell him the truth, “I don’t think I want you to leave.”
“I have to, Tess.” He chuckles.
Looking down, I whisper so no one else can hear. Well, Frank probably can, but I whisper, anyway. “I just want you to know I don’t want you to.”
He pulls me into a hug, pops a loud kiss to my nose, and says. “Good. I’ll see you on Saturday, remember?”
“And after that?”
He gives me a serious once-over, and that peaceful feeling I’ve felt settles into his eyes. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”
I help load the snowmobiles then watch as he straps them on his father’s trailer. He moves with ease and helps me when I can’t lock it in, without a hint of sarcasm or poking fun at me as I was kind of used to with him.
When Ben is done, he jumps down, grabs me, and hugs me tightly but gently.
“Tessa Ross, I’m going to miss looking at you.” He trails his hand down my back and settles on the small of it.
I wrap my arms around his neck, push up on my toes, and kiss him sweetly.
“And I’m going to miss that.”
When Dad clears his throat, we step away from each other and look at our dads, who are both leaning against the truck, holding coffee cups, watching us.
Frank raises his. “Oh, to be young again.”
Minutes later, I’m waving goodbye, and Dad throws his arm around me. “Let’s get ready for church.”
“Okay,” I say, walking toward the house with him.
“What’s going on with you and Ben?”
“I don’t know, Daddy, but I like him. I like him a lot.”
“I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. He’s a good kid, Tessa, from a good family.” He opens the door. “Keep that in mind.”
Chapter Eighteen
When Alex reminded me of how much homework I had, I ended up skipping out on church to try to get caught up. One week and four days to the play, I would be getting behind to begin with, so Dad was okay with me skipping out.
Sitting at the table, the phone rang. I got up to get it.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Thanks for the show last night.”
His voice, his words, they cut me.
“Lucas, I’m sorry. I forgot you were working,” I tell him sincerely.
“You sure about that? Or did you want to …?” He stops himself.
“Of course I didn’t want you to see.” I know how that feels.
He says nothing, and my heart beats heavily, so heavily. “Lucas—”
“I need to see you.” Tone flat, unemotional, masked, he cuts me off.
“Is everything okay?”
“Nope.”
“If you need to talk, you can come over. Everyone’s at church.”
Again, he hangs up, not saying a word.
Not knowing if he’s coming or not, I jump in the shower and get dressed just in case.
Pacing, I beat myself up inside over being so thoughtless and selfish, thinking about only me last night. My need to feel something other than pain. And he … he’s doing it to hurt me, like has for months, carelessly and recklessly.
As the minutes tick by, I realize he’s not going to show.
I look at the pile of homework in front of me and can’t even force myself to sit and plow through it. My head just isn’t in it.
Busy work, I think as I head to the bathroom, pull the load of towels from the dryer, move the whites from the washer to the dryer, and throw in a load of darks.
Sitting on the couch, folding towels, I hear the tapping of Chewy’s nails then the door open.
Chewy beside him, he walks in, hand on the top of his head.
I push the pile to the side. “Come sit down.”
Jaw squared, hat sitting high, eyes unguarded and intense—like green fire—in jeans that fit him to perfection, and an SU shirt tucked in, but just the front, he sits.
“Congratulations on—”
His head snaps to me, and I clamp my jaw shut.
“What’s up with Ben? Do you like Ben?”
I swallow hard and nod. “Yes.”
His nostrils flare. “Do you love him?”
He has no right to be pissed about Ben. None.
“I think maybe I could someday.”
Lucas sits back, cups the brim of his hat with both hands, and pulls it down while mumbling to himself, “Not what I wanted to hear.”
“We said we were going to be friends, Lucas.”
Scowling, he jerks his head and glares at me. “And Friday night, we showed each other differently.”
Tears sting my eyes as I dig deep to dish out the truth, my truth. “I don’t know what you expect from me. I don’t know anything anymore except it’s so hard with you.” I hold my hand to my heart. “It hurts, and I don’t want it to hurt all the time.”
“I don’t want that for you, either, Tessa. I love you, baby, and I don’t know what to do to fix this.”
Hearing him say that never used to taste so bitter, but it does. It totally does. Love is not supposed to taste like that.
He grabs my hand, and my body throws up armor, stiffening at his touch.
“Oh, I see.”
I shake my head. “No, Lucas, you don’t see. You’re hurt because of what you are going through and, while I feel awful about all of that and wish I could take away the pain, give you back your—” I stop, not bringing on pain that saying “your child” would bring, and look down. “I’m so sorry.” I look back up at him, seeing his face is pained. “I’ve been trying to pick up the pieces of my life.” An angry tear falls. “I would love to think it would be different a month from now, but it’s been almost seven months of hell, Lucas.
“I am eighteen years old, and I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve never wanted to be in one. And not because I’m a psycho bitch, like you made me feel! But because that was never my focus. Family was. Love was. And, as I watch my family fall apart and on the heels of this mess, that mess, one I’m still knee-deep in, is you. And God, you’re beautiful. You made me forget who I was. You gave me a chance to be someone else. You made me feel wanted, needed, special, and things I’d never felt before. I look in the mirror now, and I see a mess, a poser, and”—I bat away a tear—“I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I don’t like her … that girl in the mirror. She’s ugly, unpredictable, and she makes shit choices. If I met her on the street, I would walk in the opposite direction. I don’t know her … this girl I have become, and I don’t want to.”
“What have I done?” he whispers.
“You broke me, you put me back together, and then I broke me. Life broke me. I can’t put the pieces back together.” I stand up, sobbing now, fisting my shirt above my heart. “My heart is not a puzzle. But it is mine, the me buried in hurt, not this girl, and I will do whatever I have to, to put it back together.”
He grabs me, stands, and pulls me in for a hug. “Tessa, stop, please. I’m so sorry.”
“You know what, Lucas? I believe you don’t want to hurt me. But what happens when you the next Sadi pops up? Or you decide you’re bored of me?”
He steps back, as if I slapped him. “I didn’t ask for any of this shit to happen.”
“You couldn’t be honest with me when your mom relapsed, or when fucking Sadi blew you. Oh, but remember, my stupid pathetic ass took you back even then. You dismissed me when I asked if you had gone to the doctor with her, and then you fucked her when you said you loved me! She gave you a blow job, and you fucked her! And if you don’t get that, there is no way
in hell you could even comprehend how New Year’s felt to me, or the way you treated me just days ago. I’ve been through hell, and you expect me to keep being this … this person who’s accepting of that?” I shake my head . “No. I’m sorry, but I won’t do that to myself!”
“Fine, fine … This is just fucking perfect, isn’t it? I guess you really loved me, huh?”
“Lucas, I’ll always love you. I’ll always wonder what could have been, but I need to take care of me. A week ago, you were fine with that. And now you’re hurting, and I feel good. You have to heal, and so do I. We’re hurting each other. How could it possibly ever work when it’s always been so hard?”
“Things in life that come easy, Tessa, mean nothing. Believe me.” He turns and walks away.
When the door slams shut behind him, I crumble to the floor and sob.
On Monday, I forced myself to get out of bed and go to school. When I walked in, I kept my head down, hoping that maybe I could coast through the day, unscathed. When I nearly bumped into someone and had to look up, the first eyes that met mine were green and completely unemotional … Lucas. He looked away immediately. For that, I was grateful.
In our classes together, I took notes and didn’t volunteer answers. This wasn’t unusual for me, as a matter of fact, but last year, I was made aware that participation was part of my grade. Wanting to attend college, I had tried to do what I could to boost my average, but to say college has not been on my mind at all this year—except for when I was at the Cape—is a gross understatement. But when I heard Lucas answer when called on, and the tone in his voice unchanged, unscathed, unburdened, which was a drastic change from the way his eyes looked, I felt my heart … harden.
I’d take it, bathe in it, become it … no matter how hard I had to push against my instinct to nurture.
In the locker room, reading my Lit homework, eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich to get ahead, knowing the week ahead rehearsals would take up even more time, I look up when I hear, “Well, look at farm girl with all her friends.”
I grab my bag and, as I’m walking to the door, someone grabs my hair at my scalp and pulls … hard.
My reaction is—and not for self-preservation, but so I don’t kick the fuck out of crazy and get kicked out of school, or worse, put in jail—to use every ounce of anger to fuel strength and power toward the door.
I hear, “Sadi, let go of her now!” as Lucas folds himself over my bent one and pries her hands out of my hair.
“I got a piece of you, bitch.” She lunges at me, causing me to fall between her and him. I scurry from between them and into the hall as she continues trying to get out of his grip.
When I see a handful of hair—my fucking hair—I slap her across the face. “Get some fucking help, you crazy bitch!”
“Tessa, just go!” Lucas yells at me.
Disgusted, complete disgusted, I yell back at him, “I hate you.”
I turn and hurry down the hall before I say anything, do anything more or, worse, allow the dam to break in front of that bitch, or him, and give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“I know,” he calls after me.
Unable to stop myself, because fuck him for getting the last word in, I whirl around and storm back to them, pointing in her face. “I’m calling the cops and filing a restraining order. I will not let your sick, twisted ass fucking touch me again. I don’t give a fuck what you’ve gone through! You’ve brought it all on yourself. And you, Lucas, are falling right into her poison and enabling the crazy bitch!”
When I turn to leave, Sadi cries out, “Stop her!”
When I feel a hand on my bicep, I smack it away. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again! You make me sick. You just stuck up for that bitch again! Go to hell, Lucas. And this time, I won’t be joining you!”
With tears just about breaking through the wall that I built, I run down the hall, exit the building, run to the Jeep, and drive home, crying.
“Tessa honey, are you okay?”
I bury my face further into the pillow so she can’t see me and feel my bed buckle as she continues.
“The school called, and I was worried. Are you all right?”
“I just don’t feel well, Mom.”
She leans against the wall and pulls my head into her lap. “Okay, but you should have gone to the nurse, honey.”
I don’t say anything as she wipes away my tears and begins to twirl my hair, and she does it until I fall asleep.
When I wake, my head is pounding, and Mom is still stroking and twirling my hair. Sleepily, I ask, “What time is it?”
“It’s about five.”
I jump up. “I have rehearsal.”
“No, honey, you’re skipping tonight. I already talked to your drama coach, and he said it was fine. He just wants you to get better.”
My eyes burn when I tell her, “I want to get better, too, Mom.”
She pats her lap, and I lie back down.
Tuesday morning, head down, I hold on tight to the note that Dad left on the counter for me, telling me Ben called last night. Why? Because to hold a piece of something hopeful while having to face him … them … this whole year, gave me something to look forward to. Something that maybe, just maybe, won’t hurt or leave me.
Too quickly, I hear, “T. Ross.”
I look up, and Coach V nods toward the office. “The principal would like to see you.”
You would think I would be worried, being sent to the principal’s office, but I’m not, because I didn’t really care.
I’m instructed to wait, so I sit and do just that. When the door to his office opens, Lucas and Sadi walk out. Her eyes are red, and his hands, one carrying her bag—his is thrown over his shoulder—and his other arm is wrapped around her.
As soon as she sees me, she yells, “I hope you’re happy, bitch.”
“Enough, Sadi,” Lucas scolds her softly as they walk out.
The principal gives me detention for leaving school without permission the day before. I accept my consequence and go back to class. Then I avoid the locker room at lunch and eat in the library, drag ass through the day, and go to detention after school.
I am not proud of how I reacted the day before with Sadi. I’m not proud of many of my actions lately.
Even holding the note crumpled in my hand, I now feel myself sinking into darkness and become terrified that I’m losing the strength to pull myself out.
I grab the phone from beside me and answer, “Hello?”
“Hey, hot stuff, I can’t wait to see you on Saturday.”
Just picturing his smile makes me smile. “Me, neither, Ben. I miss your face.”
In the background, I hear his father say, “Need some help.”
“Miss yours, too. Dad needs me. Talk to you soon.”
“Yeah, see you soon,” I agree.
Shaking, the inability to breath, and Kendall begging my name in a whisper causes me to jump from the twisted metal.
“Tessa,” I hear Alex say and feel a shake.
I jump, open my eyes, and search to see who it was, who … died.
“Tessa, what—”
“Who died?” I jump up, but Alex’s grip keeps me seated.
“Tessa, you were having a dream.”
“Four people. Someone died, Alex,” I sob out, “and a baby boy.”
“Okay, Tessa.” He pulls me into a hug. “It’s a bad dream. You’re okay. Everyone is okay.”
“It doesn’t feel okay.”
Thursday, Lucas isn’t in any of our classes, and even though I’m exhausted, I force—even though it is probably in vain—myself to participate.
Walking into the library to hide and force another PB&J sandwich, someone grabs my elbow, and before I have time to snatch it away, Jade says, “No Lucas today. Eat lunch with us.”
“So, tell us about Ben.” Phoebe smiles as soon as her butt hits the chair beside me.
“What would you like to know?”
“Are you two together?” Jade looks at me like I’m crazy.
“No, Jade, not officially, but I like him.” He makes me smile.
“Tessa, that’s three this year already. You think you might want to slow it down a bit? Maybe—”
“Hey, Jade, I’m still a virgin, in case you were wondering,” I shoot back at her.
Her face reddens. “Well, everything but isn’t any less.”
Seriously pissed off at how this is going, I set my water bottle down. “Well, let’s see; I haven’t given or received oral, and no fingers have been inside me.”
“Holy shit.” Tommy covers his face. “Are we really going to have this conversation?”
I give him an apologetic look, but then I glare back at Jade. “Do you need more, Jade?”
Becca stands up, her face was red, and then she walks away.
I shrug, and Phoebe laughs.
Jade sinks down in her seat and asks, “So, are you okay?”
“No, Jade, not really, but I’ll get there.”
And that was that. She said her peace, and I know down deep it was out of concern; and I said mine. At the end of all that, we feel more okay than we have in quite some time.
After play rehearsal, I crash, but I wake briefly when the phone rings.
“I wake you up?” Ben asks.
“No,” I lie, and he laughs.
“I’ll let you get back to—
“I can’t wait to see you,” I tell him, yawning. “Been missing your face.”
“Two days, Tessa. Can I bring you home after and stay and play a bit?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me, and whisper, “I would love that.”
“Good with just chilling and snuggling you until you’re snoring, too.”
“I do not snore.” I laugh.
“Yeah, you do.” He chuckles, and I can’t help but laugh.