by Seven Steps
“Daddy, you promised you’d stop.”
His hands paused mid-air, still filled with lettuce leaves. His chin dropped to his chest.
“I thought I got it right this time.”
The lettuce fell like thick, green rain on the counter. On the floor. They stuck to his shirt and pants like little green scarlet letters, screaming that he’d sinned.
“You promised me that you would stop,” I repeated through clenched teeth.
He dropped the remaining lettuce and turned to me, his face contrite. That was no surprise. He was always contrite.
“I’m sorry, honey.” He tried to pull me in to a hug but I broke out of his hold and stepped away from him. Anger shook my hands, my cheeks. My whole body felt consumed by it. How could he do this to us? How could he do this to me?
“I really thought I got it right this time,” he whispered again.
His pleading hands were extended to me but I was all done being the supportive daughter. I wanted to scream. I wanted to wail. I wanted to open my mouth and yell at him so badly that I closed my eyes against it. Parents were supposed to be responsible. He should have been doing his job and being a father instead of chasing this crazy dream in the absolute worst possible way. Now, we were stuck and I blamed him.
“You have to fix this,” I said, my voice shaking. “How are you going to fix this?”
His eyes dropped from mine, searching the floor for something I couldn’t see.
“I called your grandmother. She said that I can go back and work on grandpa’s farm if I needed to.”
My heart froze.
“Back to North Carolina?”
No. He couldn’t do this to me. I had a life here. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair!
My chest tightened and I squeezed my lips together. My anger begged for release. I tried so hard to keep it in but it wouldn’t be contained. Not anymore.
I exploded.
“You always do this!” I screamed. “You always ruin everything!”
His head dropped on to his chest and he bit his lower lip.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I had to make him understand how foolish this was. How dangerous. He had to know that he was single handedly ruining my life.
“Why can’t you just be normal for once? Why can’t you be a father instead of chasing this crazy, stupid dream?”
His head picked up then, his eyes hard.
“It’s not a dream. It’s a reality. Or at least, it can be. I just need more equipment. More tests. I need more time.”
“There is no more time, Dad! You have been wasting time for years. And now, you’ve lost yet another job. Where does that leave me, huh? What about me? How can you decide to just run back to North Carolina without even asking me?”
A single tear fell down my cheek. Then another.
“I’m doing what I have to do to make sure you’re taken care of,” he said.
“No, Dad. What you had to do was not blow up other people’s cars.”
He frowned at me, and I didn’t care. It was time he heard the truth.
“You screwed up, and now my life is over because of it. God. I can’t believe how selfish you are! How could you do this to me?”
“Sweetheart, I’ll make it right. I’ll do what I have to do this time.”
“Oh, really? All of a sudden?”
His hard gaze turned lethal.
“I am still your father.”
“You are my father? Then grow up and act like it! Stop blowing up cars and start thinking about your family for once. You promised Mom that you would take care of me, and once again, you’re breaking that promise with your stupid, selfish dreams! God. I hate you so much!”
I wanted to take the words back as soon as they came out. As soon as I saw the pain that dropped his face when he heard them. But there was no going back now. The words were out there, and although I regretted hurting him, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that I didn’t mean what I said.
He ran his hand over his face, exasperated.
“Let’s give it a few weeks. If I can’t find anything by the end of the month, then...”
“I’m not moving back.”
“You will.”
“I’m not moving back!”
“Bella, it’s over. Done. Period. If I can’t find anything by the end of the month, we’re moving back, and that’s final.”
The air between us turned heavy, like a choking cloud of angry fire. Our words turned quiet, like tiny missiles aimed right at each other’s heart.
“If we leave New York, my life will be over.”
“You’re young. You’ll survive.”
“Survival is not living.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic! I’m concerned about our future. One of us has to be.”
“I am concerned. That’s why I made a plan for us.”
“A plan that you didn’t think to ask me about!”
“I don’t have to ask you anything. You’re sixteen.”
“So, my opinion about my life doesn’t matter?”
“Not when it comes to adult decisions, no.”
“And was it an adult decision to put experimental fuel in every car on the east coast? To ruin our family’s future? To get fired a million times? Was that an adult decision?”
My father looked taken aback. His mouth opened slightly, then closed.
“Your dreams are ruining my life and you don’t even see it,” I said. “This would never have happened if Mom were here!”
I snatched my backpack off the floor, stomped in to my bedroom and slammed the door, shaking the apartment. I threw myself on to my bed and angrily wiped away my tears.
My head felt hot with all the emotions that ran through me. I groaned and put my hands over my face. What was going to happen to us? To me? If he said that we were going back to North Carolina, there was really nothing I could do about it. North Carolina was nice and I had some friends there but Pointe Peak was a small town with small minded people. If you farted in the morning, it would be on the news at night. I didn’t want that anymore. I wanted to live in a big city with big possibilities. I didn’t want to leave my friends, my school, my home.
I wanted to stay here.
Still in my school clothes, I pulled the blankets up over my head and closed my eyes. My body wanted to sleep, but my brain wouldn’t let it.
It was childish to yell at my dad. Mean, even. But I didn’t care. I was tired of being the adult around here. I wanted to be a normal teenager. Not my father’s guidance counselor.
I sighed and turned over on my stomach.
What would tomorrow bring?
What would happen to us?
How could I stay in New York?
17
After tossing and turning until three in the morning, I finally sat up, threw off the sheets, and put my feet on the floor.
My mind refused to shut down, though my body was exhausted. I pressed my palms to my temples and squeezed my eyes tight.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I begged my brain, but it didn’t stop the terrible thoughts. Thoughts about me moving back to my grandparents’ horse farm. Of small towns. Of starting over.
If Dad couldn’t find another job, I would have to say goodbye to people here that I loved. Ariel. Jasmine. Ms. Mitchell before she paired me with the wrong brother. If I left New York, my heart would be broken and I doubted that anything would ever be okay again.
Something shifted at the end of my bed and I turned my head. It was Mojo.
I had to look three times. One, because how did the dog get in to my room? Two, how did he get in to my bed? Three, why was he associating with me in the first place?
The answer to my question came with one look at the door. It was open slightly. Just enough for a small dog like Mojo to get through. He must’ve walked in, jumped on the bed and fell asleep. But why?
“Are you lost?” I asked.
The dog shuffled again, t
hen lifted his head to look at me. I was shocked to notice less malice in his eyes since yesterday. Had Mojo seen me in my desperate condition and had a change of heart?
As if he had all the time in the world, the pup rose, stretched and walked over to me. It looked at me with a serious expression—well, as serious as a dog could look. Then, to my surprise, it licked my arm once, sneezed, walked back over to the end of the bed and promptly fell back to sleep.
I was stunned. What had just happened? Was that supposed to be a friendly gesture? A show of empathy? Pity?
I had no idea why Mojo licked me or why he was laying on my bed snoring softly, but I did know one thing. It felt good, like it was the start of a beautiful friendship. I sniffed back a happy tear because I’m a sap and laid back down.
For hours, I stared in to the blackness above my bed, anxiety wrapping twisted lines around my heart. Before I knew it, the sun was peeking through the curtains, my alarm was going off and my phone was beeping. Even Mojo had arisen and scratched at the door, begging to be taken out.
My bed sucked me in to its clutches, hugging me, beckoning me to stay and sleep forever. I wanted to. I was exhausted. Even the thought of going through this day with zero food and no sleep was enough to make me fake another menstrual cycle.
I prayed for a blizzard but seeing how the sun was shining, I was sure that God had ignored my request.
Before long, I heard my father moving around the apartment. I felt terrible that we had fought. I felt even worse that I said I’d hated him. I had never told him that before. Then again, he’d never made me so mad before.
Please God, let Daddy find a job, I prayed. I don’t want to leave New York. My friends are here. My life is here. I want to stay. Please.
My answer came in the form of Mojo barking and pawing the door, as if to tell me to hurry up.
Some answer, God.
I quickly dressed in ripped jeans, an oversized shirt and a messy bun and took Mojo outside. To my surprise, he actually walked today. Down the stairs, out the door, down the street. His little legs blurred as he raced to the same tree that he’d peed on yesterday.
He must’ve really had to go.
“Sorry, boy,” I said, crossing my arms while Mojo did his business. “It’s been a long night.” I sighed. “We’ll probably have to move again. To someplace bigger. Greener. With less pit bulls. Less…”
My voice trailed off. The same two old ladies had stopped and stared at me.
Didn’t they ever do anything else but walk around this neighborhood?
“I was, uh, talking to my dog,” I said, shifting my feet.
“You do that a lot?” the one on the right said. She wore a little pink pill hat with lace and flowers at the top, along with a floral blue dress and kitten heel shoes. There was a leather magazine holder in her hands. Colored papers peeked from the top and sides.
“I’ve only had the dog for two days,” I said.
They nodded uncertainly, looked at each other and walked on.
Something splashed against the tree. Gross. A moment later, Mojo walked from behind the tree and sat on his butt.
It was my cue, I guess.
I picked him up in my arms and carried him back home.
I almost went to school with what I had on, but then I remembered a very important point.
I was Jake Winsted’s girlfriend now. There was no way that I could be seen in what was akin to rags, and bags the size of Rhode Island under my eyes. And so, I glammed it up a little.
Being the opposite of a girly girl, only two make up items graced my nightstand. Mascara and lip gloss. I slathered on a healthy coating of each and pinched my pale cheeks to give them some color. I added hair gel to my curls to give them some semblance of control and picked out a long sleeved, dark blue dress that came right above my knee and a pair of tall boots. A quick coating of nail polish completed my look.
I examined myself in the mirror and smiled. It was amazing that a little makeup and hair gel could make me feel like a completely different person. Someone confident. Someone in control. Did that make me shallow? Maybe, but honestly, I was too tired to care. I transferred my books from my bookbag to an oversized bag that went nicely with my outfit and headed out the door.
The house smelled like last night’s spaghetti. I glanced in to the kitchen. It was a complete disaster. Red sauce splattered the dishes, the counters, the cabinets. The salad was turning brown after being left out all night and the garlic bread looked like it could be used as a blunt weapon.
I shook my head. I was not cleaning it up. As of right now, Bella French was officially off kitchen duty.
Daddy was the one who was unemployed. He could clean up behind himself.
Where was he, anyway?
I looked in to the living room, then at his open door. He didn’t appear to be here. Hadn’t I heard him moving around this morning? Where could he have gone? Job hunting? It was only seven in the morning and he didn’t say goodbye. Daddy always said goodbye, whether we were fighting or not. Was he that mad at me? Did he really think that I hated him? Had I caused irreparable damage to our relationship with my harsh words?
Words of truth, I reminded myself. Everything I said was the truth. Except the hate part. But everything else I meant. He’d realize that … eventually.
Sighing, I grabbed a green apple out of the fruit bowl and took a big bite. Daddy and I fought, but we still loved each other. He couldn’t be mad at me forever, could he?
The sweet pulp got stuck in the lump that formed in my throat.
I was right about everything I said, I reminded myself. I was right.
I took another bite of my apple and walked out of the apartment after locking the door behind me.
18
I met Ariel and Jasmine outside of my apartment. Every morning, we took the subway to school together. Taking the subway alone sucked. It was only two stops, but they lasted forever and I always got stuck sitting next to the person who smelled like dirty socks or who fell asleep on my shoulder.
Gotta love New York, right?
When I approached them, Ariel and Jasmine were already hovering over Ariel’s phone, deep in conversation.
Ariel threw her arms around me from the front.
“Oh my god, Bella. You look great!”
Jasmine hung back and smiled.
“New boyfriend, new look, huh?” she asked.
I groaned. “You know?”
“Are you kidding?” Jasmine asked. “Everyone knows! You are the new queen of St. Mary’s Academy right now. Boy, is Dana going to be jealous.”
I rolled my eyes and started walking toward the subway.
“I don’t think so.” No matter what I wore, I was no Dana Rich. Still, the comparison was nice.
“I’m serious! Dana and Jake were like Romeo and Juliet, sans the death. And now you have risen from the unwashed masses to take Jake out from under her nose. Bold move, girl.”
She gave me a high-five. I half-heartedly returned it.
“I didn’t actually take him,” I corrected her. “They were broken up. He kissed me and asked me to be his girlfriend. I’d be stupid to say no.” It wasn’t a complete lie. More of a three-quarter truth, really.
“Just be careful,” Ariel said. “I mean, we’ll be watching your back, but still. Keep an eye out for Dana and for Regina.”
“Maybe we should start carrying around switch blades and walkie-talkies,” Jasmine said. “Just in case they corner you or something.”
I chuckled. “I’m not going to carry around a weapon! I’ll be fine.”
Jasmine put one hand on my shoulder. “Would you consider a whistle?”
“Definitely not!”
“Just a thought.”
“Honestly, you two are being a tad dramatic, don’t you think?”
Jasmine frowned. “I like to think of myself as a planner.”
“Speaking of me,” Ariel chimed in. “Did you see my text this morning?”
I shoo
k my head.
“What text?”
“Eric has been texting me all night.”
My heart flipped in my chest.
“That’s … that’s great, right?”
“Um … yeah it is! I mean, I knew that we had stuff in common, but talking to him as me, and not as Gelda the Witch, is amazing. We’re talking about meeting up this weekend. Maybe by the Sea Port or something.”
Ariel’s face turned euphoric. She was happy. Really and truly happy. And just like that, my worries about being Jake’s fake girlfriend faded away. To see the look of pure joy on Ariel’s face was all the validation I needed. I could do this.
“Sounds like you two are a match made in heaven,” Jasmine said. She sighed. “My best friends are in love and climbing the social ladder and here I am, alone and lonely.”
“What happened to Michael, the boy that went to St. John’s University?” I asked. Jasmine had a thing for older college guys. I still wasn’t sure if her parents knew or not.
She waved her hand. “He was a smoker. Ugh. I dropped him like a bad habit.” She sighed. “I’m sure that my boy toy is somewhere out there. I just have to find him.”
I placed my hand on Jasmine’s sagging shoulder. I knew what it was like to feel left out. I never wanted Jasmine to feel that way. Maybe Jake had another older friend that Jasmine would be interested in. I’d have to remember to ask him.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s hurry up before we miss our train.”
The three of us set off to the train station in the November sunshine. It was cooler than yesterday and my thin coat did nothing for the chill.
The streets were nearly empty. Sidewalks twinkled in the sunrise. Light reflected off the skyscraper windows. Blue sky stretched between gigantic buildings. The smell of coffee and bacon drifted from the bodegas that we passed. The city was beautiful. Not country beautiful like my grandfather’s farm was, but beautiful in a cramped, corporate, raw sort of way. I loved it. I’d miss it if I had to leave.