Skipping Stones - COMPLETE

Chapter 9

I WAS ABLE to eat two of those made-from-scratch biscuits with homemade sausage and milk gravy. I don't think I knew just how hungry I was. Most meals since the accident have been spent with me using utensils to play with my food. Instead, this time I was using my fork to scrape up every last drop of that gravy.

"Alex, you can have more than two. You don't have to scrape the plate."

"I don't want to make myself sick."

"You haven't eaten in days. I must say it's a sight for sore eyes."

I smile as I turn my fork backwards and lick. "That was delicious. Just what I needed." I get up from my chair and head to put my stuff in the sink. Papa spends a lot of his day slaving over the dishes Memaw dirties while she cooks. They have an old green dishwasher, but I don't think I've ever seen them use it. They hate having the house out of order, and they were raised to do everything by hand.

"Here, Pop. Want me to rinse while you wash?"

"No, sweetheart. I got this," he says as he looks out the window. You can see the hill that I love to run down. Some summers when we were little, my cousin and I would make a homemade slip and slide out of these industrial strength long trash bags Papa would bring home from work. Then one year at Christmas it actually snowed. We rarely get 'White Christmases' here in South Carolina. We used the tops to those Rubbermaid containers to sled down the hill. Mom and Dad were out videotaping us. I wonder where that video is?

My blood starts to boil because I've been robbed of the future I had planned. There won't be any more memories with my parents. There will be no wedding dress shopping with my mother. My father will never walk me down the aisle. They missed getting to watch me go to the prom. They will not be cheering me on at my graduation. Most of all, the anger that every single thought seems to lead back to them consumes me. There is no way to escape the pain. I need a way to escape the pain.

"Papa?"

"Yes'um," he replies, glancing over to me.

"Can I go for a walk?"

"Are you going to see that boy...what was his name?"

"Drew. I don't know." I don't know if I'll see him, but I know I'm going to go look for him.

"I told you. We don't know nothing 'bout that boy. You need to be careful." He's stern. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard him be so stern with me before.

"I will." I lean over and give him a kiss on his round cheek. "Is there a time I need to be back by?"

"We'll holler for you. Be listening."

"Okay," I cheerfully reply. Cheerful. That's a new emotion these days. I know it's only cheerful at the thought of Drew. I skip to my back bedroom where I usually stay in the summer. I guess it's my new room. I swallow. So many changes happening so fast. It's so overwhelming.

I slip on my flip flops and head back through the house to the back door. Memaw stops me right as I am about to make my escape. "Alex."

I halt myself in my tracks, glancing over my shoulder at her. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"You're wearing that out?"

I glance down. It's summer. I have on cut off blue jeans and a white ribbed tank top. "Um. I had planned on it."

"Those shorts are so short. You need to go change. It's one thing to wear those around the house, but not out," she mutters disapprovingly.

I sigh and look over to Papa. He gives me a hopeless shrug. "What's the difference between me wearing these and a bathing suit?" I don't want to be mean, but I'm frustrated. She's holding me up, and causing me to waste time that I could be with the one person on this earth who doesn't make me want to go jump off of a bridge. "In fact, I think they probably cover more than my bikini."

"When you wear stuff like that, you're just askin' for trouble."

"No, I'm asking to stay cool in this hot, humid weather," I huff. "Besides, it's not like I bought them myself. Mom bought them for me."

Papa speaks up, "Alex, don't talk back to Memaw like that."

I hate being scolded, especially by him. It happens very rarely. "Yes, sir."

"Now go change those shorts into something a little less...revealing," he demands.

I hang my head. I don't have the energy to fight with them. The truth is I don't have a lot that is any better. It's almost impossible to find shorts that are long enough for my tall, lean body. I pick out a pair of white dress shorts. They are still short but they at least look nicer.

When I walk back through the living room, Memaw starts again, "Those are still short, but I guess they're better."

I glance to Papa, almost begging him with my eyes to help me. We have a way of speaking without saying a word. "Awe, Elizabeth. Give her a break."

She glares at him, and he winks at me. I know that's my chance to make my break. I've never really heard them fight before. Like ever. I suspect that when I'm out of their presence, they might have words, but maybe not. I scurry down the street hoping they won't change their mind on letting me leave.

I'm disappointed when I see the creek, and he's not there. My chest goes from feeling like the bricks are stacked against it to empty, lost. I'm not sure what I should do. I glance at the big rocks we had sat on yesterday. The stirring at my core is intense. I don't know how I've become so dependent on someone I barely know.

I slow my pace now that there's no incentive to get there any faster. Visions of my father and Papa swinging me down the street to the creek flash before my eyes. I visualize me unsuccessfully trying to skip stones with them. The lump in my throat is growing. I hear Dad's laughter. There's a sparkle in his eyes from the water as he watches me try with all my might to do what they do with those rocks. Pure amusement.

He never complained about having a girl, and not a boy. He was completely content with just me. He was determined to teach me everything he would have taught a boy. He had always said he wanted me as independent as possible. Never depending on a boy. Ironic, since right now all I can think about is how I want to throw myself into that creek and sink to the bottom, letting the water replace the air in my lungs, and the two main people saving me are Papa and Drew – Drew – nearly a complete stranger. Both men. Completely dependent.

Stranger, or not, he is hope. He's hope for me that I may be able to find some resemblance of happiness in the future. He's a ray of sunshine seeping in an empty otherwise black hole that sucks me in with each tear shed and every memory remembered.

When I get to the rock, I ease onto it. I rest my head in my hands, releasing the stampede of despair as I'm overcome with emotion. I don't even attempt to hold back the wails that are escaping me. I pull my knees to my chest, hugging them as I rock back and forth.

I wonder what I can do to get this crying to go away. To make this pain stop. Is the answer to completely close my heart off, and allow no one in so that when they leave, I no longer ache? Is the solution to find something that hurts worse to help ease this hurt? Is there relief in pouring everything in me into something positive? What do I have that's positive?

I have nothing. I am nothing. I mean, I have my family, but my life as I otherwise knew is gone. Friends, home, plans for the future. I don't know who I am anymore. These thoughts do nothing but make me mourn the losses I've experienced in an even more dramatic effect.

When I finally lift my head and open my eyes, big brown ones captivate me. I don't know how long he's been sitting there. He doesn't say a word; he just turns his head slightly to the side. He brushes away my tears before handing me a stone.

My eyes never leave his as I drop it the rock between us. I realize in this moment, that the pain eases when he's near me. So I decide to pour everything I have in me into him. I lean forward, biting my lip, hoping he'll know that I am begging him to kiss me. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. He leans back on his palms, distancing us.

I sigh.

As I'm about to look away, disappointed, he lunges forward and takes my head into his hands. Our lips crush together, and as his kiss consumes me, he breathes oxygen into my lungs. My heart starts to race. I feel alive. This is living.