Dissonance | ✓

17 | Surprise!

     Visitation day: an afternoon where family and friends would come to see us at Riverdale for two hours. Catch up, meet teachers, bring gifts...

     The thought of my mother and Mr. Baker coming to visit made me wince. After all that had happened during the previous break, there was no reason for them to want to see me. Even prior to that, I could not have imagined them going out of their way to see me for just two hours; I was pretty sure they had seen enough of me in that summer, alone.

     Everybody on campus gushed about their families and outside partners and, most important to the kids at Riverdale, what they brought for them. "My parents bought me the latest iPhone;" "My parents got a charm bracelet, with real gold, custom made for me;" "My girlfriend got herself some new underwear. Don't enter my dorm, if you know what I mean." Joey, of course, said the latter.

     At least Carter shared my anxiety about seeing our parents. His wanted to meet every teacher, and give a lecture to him on every grade he received on his report, although they must have been straight A's, with the occasional A.. I doubted he had much to worry about. So, in reality, I was alone with my anxiety.

     The student body was flooded into the main auditorium, arranged with several tables and chairs on every edge. I scanned the room for my parents, only to see other kids finding their's. When more people left the hall or took seats, I spotted my mother's wavy, wheat-colored hair. Taking a deep breath, I walked rigidly to her. Mother whipped around to face me, an expression in her eyes I did not recognize.

     "Leena," she softly said. Leena? The last time I was Leena was the last time Mr. Baker was dad. The nickname was so foreign to me. "How are you?" My mother pulled me into an awkward embrace (at least, for me, it was) and I wondered if she was drunk. The hot breaths she expelled from her mouth smelled normal: coffee and vanilla, so I scrapped my first theory. I was about to return the greeting when I saw a man who stood three feet behind her, carrying her purse. How did I never notice the green irises rimmed with brown and heart-shaped face that we both shared?

     "Colleen, hi," Mr. Oakwood spoke gingerly.

     What was going on? My mind buzzed. Why was he there, at my school? Did Mr. Oakwood suddenly want in on my life? Where was he before? Too busy with his perfect family to include me in the mix? Rage bubbled in my throat. All I felt towards them was disdain. I remembered my mother's tale of her affair, and wanted to smite her. For all the stupid mistakes she knew she was making. For being so harsh to me without reason. For all the deceit. But I could not. I could not even imagine it, for the life of me. I loved her too much. That anger turned to frustration and sadness. I thought I was stronger than that. I was not going to cry. Not in front of them.

      I turned away from my parents and stormed all the way to my dorm. I shoved the door open, slammed it behind me, and dropped onto my bed. The deep breaths I tried to inhale were sharp, and the ones exhaled, uneven and quivering. It was only seconds before I was whaling into my pillow. I sobbed until my chest hurt from the absence of air, sucked in a breath, and repeated. "I hate my life," I murmured over and over, in between sobs.

     "Colleen, shh." Miranda was crouched next to me. "Tell me what it is," her hand stroked my arm.

     "My - parents - they're here. But dad - Mr. Oak - wood, not - Mr. Baker. I-I h-hate - them!" I managed in between hiccups, before crying again. Miranda suddenly retracted her hand.

     "That's what you're bawling about?" she gruffly said.

     I looked up, confused, and nodded once.

     Miranda's eyes were hurt and angry, studying me for a long period. I self-consciously straightened my clothes. She finally spoke. Well, snapped. "You think your life is such a mess, Colleen? Seriously? You've got it so easy! Your parents actually wanna try with you. They've realized their mistakes. They wanna be apart of your life! My parents?" Miranda snorted. "My parents didn't even come. They never do. Because they're either not here, or they don't give a shit."

     By that point, Miranda was heaving. "Fuck you, Colleen. Fuck you. Stop wasting your time here, shedding crocodile tears, and go be with people that love you unconditionally." She pushed me out the dorm. I stood in the hallway, still stunned, as I heard the door click locked. There was nowhere else for me to go but the place I should have been at that whole time: with my parents.

     I was dashing so fast across the campus, I stumbled into a woman walking towards the parking lot.

     "I'm so sorry," I apologized, regaining my balance.

     The woman grabbed my arm. "Hey, why did you run off, before?" Miss. Crawford gave me a worried look.

     "Oh, uh...look. I just need to get to my parents,"

     Another pitiful look. "Colleen...they already left. All visitors have. I'm sorry."

     I slumped my shoulders in and began turning back to my dormitory. Of course, I missed my one chance to mend things with my parents. They came for me, nobody else. For just a mere two hours, they came to see me. Talk to my teachers. Discuss my report card. Catch up. And I denied them any of that. Instead, I ran away like a fucking coward because the privilege of talking with my parents was too overwhelming. I hated myself for that, and I could not help but hate my life again. I was so selfish. So selfish! 'Fuck you, Colleen!' I repeated to myself, digging into the skin of my forearm until blood appeared. 'Dying to bleed out the pain?Real smart, Colleen.' A voice in my head mocked. I was so distressed. I needed a friend. Not one that did not care: not one that would microsize my sadness. One that would always make me feel better, even if I became depressed over a scraped knee.

     It took three meek knocks for Ximena to answer the door at her dorm. Noticing my puffy eyes, she sat me on her bed and pulled up a chair for herself. She did not ask me what was wrong: only damped a paper towel with warm water and wiped my face, as if wiping away all the hurt. And she was. Slowly, the aching in my chest dissipated.

     I touched my hand to her's that was cleaning my face. "Thank you,"

     After that, I did not know what came over me, but my eyes kept flickering from Ximena's eyes to her lips. She simply watched me (was that pleasure and plead I detected in her eyes?) lean in, so close that our noses touched. A shot of passion had surged through my entire body. It had to have its way. I gave in.

     I kissed Ximena softly, and she returned the gesture. My lips parted for her to slip in her tongue. She kissed me harder, yet tenderly. I was shuddering under her touch. I was entranced under her touch. I was alive under her touch.

     We both pulled away for air. Ximena bit her lip, as if holding back something she desperately wanted to say. I was dying for her to speak up. Maybe she thought the kiss was a mistake, or something more. I had to know what was on her mind.

     "I think I really like you," she barely whispered. My heart almost stopped. There went the fireworks, again.

     "I-I, well," I stammered like English was a tongue I did not know. "What?" was all I could manage.

     Ximena shrugged sheepishly.

     "You–mm–I have to go," I spurted out, shot up and bolted for the door. I knew Ximena was staring after me, but I could not look back at her. I was running away again. When things got complicated, what did I do? Run.

     With all the cowardice I had, somebody had ought to have given me an award.