Truth or Dare

Ice Cream, Stories of the Past and a talk with Sarah

Lydia

Being shown the city was pretty fun. I had loved all the historical stuff, naming off facts that Wes didn't even know. I think I was called a nerd more in those few hours then the three years we'd known each other. We did all the corny tourist stuff and got ice cream. It was overall, well, perfect.

"I like Boston. Maybe I should just stay here," I smiled as we walked down Wes's street and took another spoonful of ice cream.

"I wish you could, maybe come back out here for college?" Wes smiled.

"I don't know. I was thinking of staying close to home for school, just so I know I have people around when I need them." I shrugged, looking down and taking another bite. "But the way things have been going there lately I want nothing more but to get out."

"You never told me what happened."

"You don't want to hear that."

"I kind of want to."

"Wes, things happened. I don't want to talk about it. Talking about it can't change what happened." I could feel his eyes on me, but all I wanted in that moment was to sit down and cry. The memories flooded back into my mind, no matter how much I shook my head I couldn't make them playing across the back of my eyes like a movie. Things being thrown and screaming, hurtful words being tossed around like baseballs.

"Lydia, Lydia what's wrong?" Wes asked, curling one arm around my waist and draping the other over my shoulder to pull me into a hug.

"I hate remembering. One of the curses of a good memory, the littlest things trigger memories and then they just keep flooding in."

"Come on, let's get you home." He mumbled and started walking me toward his house. When we got inside, I sat down at the kitchen table as Wes made lunch. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I muttered, still trying to get my brain back together. "Wes, the breakdown before, I don't know what happened. It just hit me and..." I was at a loss for words. How was I suppose to apologize for a breakdown? How could I apologize for any of this? I knew it wasn't fair to him, shutting him out and refusing to talk about things. But I couldn't. I barely wanted to think about it. Putting it into words was recognizing it was real, and that was just something I couldn't bring myself to do.

"You don't have to apologize, I know what it's like to be messed up emotionally." I looked at Wes, ready to yell. What did he know of emotional baggage? Had the person he was dating beat him and try to kill him? Had he had to watch his mom die? Did he have to pretend he was alright every second of the day when all he really wanted to do was just cry until there were no tears left in his body?

Then it hit me, I didn't know if he felt any of that. Wes lived with him dad and stepmom. He never talked about his mother at all besides when he mentioned she had taught Sarah to cook. That was the first and last time I ever heard anything about her. Maybe he had been hurt to.

"You know how it is?" I asked, trying not to sound bitter.

"My mom left us when I was about ten," Wes sat down next to me and put a plate of pasta in front of me. "I was old enough to understand most of what was going on. Ella and Sarah were fifteen at the time. We all knew that she had left us. And I mean, what was that? What kind of person tucks their ten year old son into bed one night and says 'I love you see you in the morning' and then leaves that night?

"That morning I woke up and she was just gone. My dad was crying and holding a note, I think that was the only time I've ever seen him cry. Ella smashed at least ten jam jars and Sarah, I'll never forget this, just sat me down at the kitchen table and made me eggs how I liked them. She later took me to the beach and answered my questions. That was the dad Sarah took over as my mom."