Broken Seed

by R J Machado De Quevedo

  It was like I had been confronting my old demons to prove to them they had no more power over me. I had stood boldly with the might and power of God backing me up, giving me insights into Jill and compassion for her I would never have expected to feel.

  I was sure part of what I’d said had reached her in some small way. In fact, even now, despite the uncertainty her threats brought and the fight Elisabeth and I had, I still hoped my words would help to set her free from the terrible demons possessing her and the dreadful pain she was in. Some of that pain I could even relate with.

  “Oh, Elisabeth. Why like this?” I said under my breath, a painful ache within my heart.

  Dexter came trotting up to me, his little meow making me feel ashamed for having scared him with our angry exchange. He must have split the moment it got tense. He wasn’t used to anything but love, laughter, and chatter.

  “Poor little guy.” I picked him up and scratched his ears, cuddling him close to my chest. His fuzzy head rubbed across my chin to affectionately mark me. I felt a tear slide down my cheek again and I hurried to wipe it away. I grew angry again at the fresh tears, angry at myself for having cried so much today, and angry at Elisabeth for trying to bend me into following her orders. I put Dexter down gently and left.

  Training Wheels

  Chapter Three

  I got in my car throwing my backpack into the front passenger seat with far too much aggression. It smacked into the other door and rolled off the seat onto the floor. I slammed my driver’s side door closed with all my frustrated might.

  “Damn it!” I yelled, hitting the steering wheel. “Damn it.” I repeated to my empty car in a strangled moan. How could she talk to me like that? Her best friend?

  I didn’t care what Elisabeth said. I wasn’t going live in fear and keep a stupid journal of people coming and going! How pathetically paranoid! And I’d move out if I wanted to. I had already been thinking about it anyway. I had some plans forming in my mind as it was. Get my scrappy cash together, find a cheap little apartment in the ghetto somewhere, put my new address in the phonebook and on lost pet signs or something to lure Jill and her posse to me and keep them away from my best friend.

  Even being this mad at her right now, the idea of leaving made me sick with sorrow. I loved her like my own sister, and I knew she loved me the same. But I couldn’t hide anything from her! She read me like a book. She had known I had been planning something even though I had tried to hide it. I didn’t want her getting hurt because of me. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Besides, maybe some space would be good for us after all. I had lived with her since I had been out on my own. She had been my safe place, my confidant, my roommate, and my best friend. But she wasn’t the boss of me. She wasn’t my mother!

  My internal rant fizzled out as the image of my mom’s face swam into my mind, choking out my anger like a candle snuffer. Her kind, loving, smiling face peered down at me. The look of compassion filled her eyes as I ran over to her after falling and scraping both my knees into bloody ruins while diving off my first rusty, little bike. I had run over to her not to look for sympathy but to beg her to take the training wheels off.

  “You’re not quite ready, Melanie. Let me take a look at your knees. You scraped them up good this time.” She squatted down and sat me gently on the curb. I quickly tucked my scraped palms behind me so she wouldn’t see them. She moved the torn edges of my tattered jeans to look at my bleeding knees beneath.

  “No, Mommy. My knees are fine. I’m ready. I can do it! The extra wheels made me fall. Help me take ’em off. Please, Mama,” I begged, kicking my little three-year-old legs away from her exploring fingers, lest they hurt my ouchies anymore. I had felt the pain burning into my knees, and I had to bite back my tears the moment after I recovered from the shock of flying through the air and rolling across the torn up pavement. If I had any chance of getting her to take off those training wheels, I couldn’t let her see me cry.

  “My brave little girl. Come on.” My mom picked me up from under my arms and set me on my feet. She stood and smiled encouragingly down at me. “Here, show Mommy a few more times how you can make your turns with the training wheels on. Okay, baby? Then, I’ll think about taking them off. You’re not ready to go without them yet.”

  “No, Mommy, now. Now, Mommy. Please. I’m a big girl now like Vi. I can do it. Watch me. I can do it!” I pleaded, tugging on her skirt and looking at her with big imploring eyes.

  “Melanie, you don’t have to do it just because I can. I’m nine. I’m a lot older and bigger than you are. I’d listen to Mom if I were you.” Vivian had come over from the front step and knelt down next to me, turning me toward her. “Mel, just because Mom says you’re not ready to do it without help doesn’t mean you won’t ever be able to do it. It just means you should wait until you’re ready.”

  “Your sister’s right. You’re a big girl. Just practice more, honey. You’ll get there.”

  I looked from Vivian to my mom and started to cry. My knees really hurt now. No reason not to show it. And I knew if Vi told me to wait, I should.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll practice more. You’ll help me, Vi?” I asked between sobs.

  “Course I will, Mel. I’ll always help you.” Vi gave me a hug and then picked me up over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I squealed and wiggled and giggled. I loved it when she carried me around upside down. When the world was upside down, things were looking up.

  I gripped my steering wheel and sighed. Elisabeth had always given me advice with the pure intent to look out for me in some way. Liz had never tried to harm me in words or in actions. Today, she had reacted out of fear for my safety. She had said she would risk my anger if it meant I would be safe. She hadn’t lied to me about that either. She had been right. I had gotten angry. Very angry.

  But why did she have to break my door? That had scared me more than being cornered in the kitchen.

  Because Elisabeth isn’t perfect. She was afraid and convinced I’d be too stubborn to listen to her.

  She had been right, too. Here I was, upset and ready to ignore all her sound advice because she tried to tell me what to do instead of just make a suggestion like she normally did. She was trying to protect me. Maybe she hadn’t gone about it the right way, but maybe if I had thought about what she was trying to say before I brushed her off, she wouldn’t have grown more upset and overreacted at me in the first place.

  We should be able to have an argument or disagreement and get mad if that was how we honestly felt in that moment, right? We were best friends. Are best friends. Why shouldn’t we be able to get irritated or mad at each other once in a while when the circumstances called for it?

  I had to accept the reality that if I knew something or someone was lurking out there ready to find and hurt my best friend, I’d risk her anger by giving her an order to stick to familiar surroundings and not to go out alone. I would ask her to be watchful and careful yes. But I wouldn’t have to ask her to keep a little booklet of any odd people or vehicles because unlike me, she had an eidetic memory. How was her asking me any less reasonable? How was it any different?

  It wasn’t. It was her way to protect me. To keep me from taking off my training wheels and running amuck and getting myself badly hurt.

  Jill had said they wanted to finish what they had started. Elisabeth was being more realistic than I was. God gives us com- mon sense for a reason. If I go swimming all day as pale as I am, I’ll fry, blister, and peel like a banana if I don’t apply SPF 50 every two hours. If I forget or ignore the danger of the sun, it’s my own fault if I get fried. I didn’t want to get fried.

  Okay, I get it now. I still didn’t like it. But I got it. I couldn’t predict what Jill and the others would do. I didn’t know where she lived or why she was in town. I only knew she had threatened me. I saw the demon that she had partnered herself with. I had seen how enormous and evil it was. I couldn’t let it win.

  The Archangel Michael’s words
from the night before echoed through my mind. “Satan, the deceiver, has been after you your whole life. And he still tries to deceive you. To take away what you have found refuge in and to strip away what strength and growth you have fought so hard for. You must not let him win! You are too important!”

  “No, I won’t let him win!” I said. I hit the button of the garage door opener and turned on my car. I was going to class. I was going to get through this. I had God on my side. And I had Elisabeth on my other side. I’d take those odds. I’d take those odds any day of the week.

  Public Announcement

  Chapter Four

  I t wasn’t until I had walked into my philosophy class and mumbled a quiet, “Sorry I’m late,” to the professor that I even remembered I was supposed to sit next to David Abramson today.

  Oh crap, I had forgotten about him.

  The idea of hurting him lingered from my conversation with Elisabeth about him last night. We both realized with the possibility of Jill and her friends trying to hunt me down, displaying what could be interpreted as a close relationship to anyone, other than Elisabeth of course, could potentially be bad for their health. Apparently, Elisabeth didn’t care about her long-term health. Typical. She was only concerned with mine. That conversation felt like forever ago.

  I looked up and saw David smiling broadly at me from the back of the classroom. Apparently, he had thought I was going to skip class altogether rather than keep my word and sit next to him, and the sight of me had dissolved his disappointment into pure glee. If I had remembered, he might have been right.

  Oh crap. Not today. I am so not ready for this today.

  I realized with a flush of embarrassment I was dressed in my favorite and most comfortable clothes and probably looked like poor, white trash. Or better yet, like a wadded-up snot rag.

  This morning, I had grabbed my favorite jeans, the ones with the holes in the knee, both knees to be exact. My baggy, baby-blue sweater that nearly matched the color of my eyes, had a wide-open neck that constantly slipped off one shoulder to show the white tank top I had on underneath. I had forgotten my jacket at home on the kitchen floor, so to top it off, I was cold. And to make things worse, when I was cold, my white skin got nasty red patches. You know what I’m talking about. Everyone knows at least one deathly pale person. I could feel my cheeks turning redder along with the tip of my nose as the warmth of the room thawed my chilled skin. When you’re so white your skin is almost translucent, have long, waist-length, strawberry-blonde hair and big blue eyes, red cheeks just make you look, well, red all over.

  Great. Now I’m gonna look like a freaking strawberry.

  So that’s why some girls come to class all dressed up.

  Ah, yes. I get it now. I found it ironic that now I understood what so much earlier this morning I found to be foolish, desperate, and vain.

  My old high school career counselor’s lingering words of wisdom chimed annoyingly through my battered mind. Dress to impress or don’t bother trying.

  “Hey, Bishop,” David whispered to me, his eyes taking me in as I made my way down the aisle toward him. I was sure he’d seen the dread on my face.

  Poor David.

  I let out a big sigh and sat down next to the cheerfully smiling David Abramson. I had an urge to stick my tongue out at him but restrained myself. It wasn’t his fault my life was all screwed up. Poor guy. He really knew how to pick them.

  God, he looked cute today though. His jet black, slightly curly hair had been perfectly combed with a light touch of gel, and his wine-colored polo shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a lovely swirl of jet-black chest hair just above the open V of the collar. Good to know he didn’t have hair growing from his chest to his chin in one massive hair ball. That would have been disappointing.

  His charming smile and gleaming white teeth completed the fetching top half of his appearance and gave him a sleek Casanova-casual look, complete with deep tan, honey brown eyes and all. I got a whiff of his cologne as I sat down. He smelled quite good too. Like a sporty musk. Yum.

  Focus, Melanie. You’re not here to torture the man. You’re not here to even encourage him, remember? Friendship good. More than friendship, bad. At least for now. One crisis at a time!

  “Hi,” I greeted, forcing a small smile. God, I bet I look like I am going to throw up. “Did I miss anything important so far?” I asked him, trying to lead the conversation into nice, dry, safe territory and away from turbulent waters.

  “Naw, nothing much. The professor handed back the tests we took last week and finished going over the questions. Here.” David handed me my test facedown.

  “Why did you have that?” I asked, annoyed he had my test in his possession. Then, I quickly became worried he’d been snooping and read my answers.

  Sneaky little punk, trying to get inside my mind without my permission. Some people’s kids!

  I looked up at David’s face. He had an expectant look shining there like a child at Christmas. He seemed to be vibrating with excited energy. His eagerness to talk was evident by his wide and inviting eyes.

  Oh, poor David.

  “He gave it to me to give to you. I thought you weren’t coming, so I told him I’d see you at work tonight, and he just handed it over. Why? Is it that bad?” he asked, trying to flip the cover of the test booklet to see my score.

  “Like you don’t know already,” I grumbled, snatching it back out of his reach.

  “I don’t. Honest! I didn’t look. Even though I really wanted to,” David admitted a bit sheepishly.

  “Oh. Yeah?” I asked surprised at his good-boy character. I should be used to it by now, but I was just never prepared to see a truly honest and good person. I thought Elisabeth was the only one left. If it had been me, I probably would have looked.

  After growing up in a house of constant terror, my father the ultimate embodiment of sadistic abuse and power, trust did not come easily to me. I’d seen too much evil from the man I was supposed to learn trust and love from to fully trust men at all. It had become a learned behavior, an automatic train of thought to assume all men were liars and out to dominate or abuse me in some way. It was getting a little easier to open my heart to the idea of trusting men after God had revealed to me the depth of that deception. But when you can’t trust your own father, who is supposed to protect you, love you, and guide you, how could you trust another man with something even greater—your heart?

  I was working on that. David had never been anything but kind and thoughtful to me even when I was distant or rude. He acted like a gentleman from another time. I know I hadn’t allowed myself to get close to men, but he made me wish I could with his gentleness, silent confidence, and protective nature. He constantly surprised me that way. I felt my annoyance slip away.

  “Sure. I’d never lie to you, Melanie,” he said, leaning toward me.

  His honey-brown eyes were so clear and beautiful. The sun was lighting up the side of his face from the window making his eyes pull me into their depth. His soulful eyes were so amazing. Pure, open, honest, inviting, and, somehow, knowing.

  I could see in his eyes he was offering himself to me. His simple words, “I’d never lie to you,” echoed from within them, asking me to give him a chance to prove it.

  I looked away quickly, feeling my face flush. God, he was so cute. I glanced back at him, and he was still leaning toward me, the dimples in his cheeks deepening as his smile widened at my evident embarrassment.

  “Mr. Abramson. Is there a reason you’re harassing Ms. Bishop and ignoring me,” Professor Stewart announced to the room.

  Some of the students chuckled and turned their heads to look at us in our back corner of the room with interest on their faces. Others let out exasperated sighs, obviously wanting to get the lecture over, so they could get on with the rest of their day.

  David pulled his eyes off of me slowly, showing real effort to the teacher’s eyes. Then he surveyed the interested onlookers, but to them, he showed no such embarrassment.r />
  David had never been called out or rebuked in this class before. He was usually only called on when he raised his hand, being one of the few in the room who knew most of the answers to the philosophical and highly mind-twisting questions of the professor. He had developed the reputation as the class undergraduate philosopher himself, though he insisted it wasn’t even his major.

  In fact, I didn’t even know what his major was. I knew he was older than me, maybe by only a few years, which did nothing to explain why he was still at a junior college like I was. I wondered what he had been doing instead of going to college after he’d graduated from high school?

  No, no, you don’t wonder, Melanie. You don’t need to be wondering anything.

  “Mr. Abramson?” Professor Stewart asked again from his podium at the front of the class.

  David’s abashed expression returned, then suddenly vanished as he straightened up in his seat having come to some apparent internal decision.

  “Yes, sir, there is a reason why I have been harassing Ms. Bishop I find to be most honorable actually,” he said to the room at large with just as much boldness and confidence as the professor. “But I’m sure you don’t want to hear anything about my attempts to convince Ms. Bishop to accept my invitation to go out with me or about how tired I am of being thwarted by unrequited love.”

  The room burst into whoops and cheers, and Professor Stewart raised his eyebrows. I felt my face slack and my mouth hang open. I looked at David who winked at me and then shot me a blindingly handsome smile. I looked away, horrified.

  Why did he have to humiliate me like that? Why?

  “Really?” Professor Stewart said, a smile playing across his lips. “Yes, sir,” David said proudly. “I must have her or die in the attempt.”