Accept me for what I am - completely unacceptable.
-Morrissey, in a letter to Robert Mackie, circa 1980.
-
I'm awoken by the bitter aroma of freshly made coffee.
Looking around at the beige walls, pearly white carpet and silk sheets, I know I'm in my Mom's room. Walking myself in here in the middle of the night like a little girl afraid of a loud thunderstorm feels like a dream to me now.
I kick the blankets off my body and exit the room immediately when I recall the rest of the night's events. I hear my Mom humming in the kitchen as I shut the bedroom door behind me. The sharp aroma of unsweetened coffee invades my senses. I cringe. Starting for the stairs, I wonder if I should call Will to apologize. I've decided that I'm definitely not going to pretend last night never happened because-
Wait. My Mom....humming?
I walk away from the stairs and venture toward the kitchen tentatively. Maybe she never could go back to sleep last night like I thought. So, she got up at the crack of dawn and has been drinking coffee ever since, causing some kind of high.
What time is it anyway?
When I reach the kitchen, Mom is fully dressed and about to sit at the table with a cup of coffee. She looks up at me. "Good morning."
She reaches across the table to grab her Jodi Picoult book. "Morning..." I reply.
I glance at the clock on the stove. It's ten-twenty-five. Without another word to my strangely relaxed Mother, I run up the stairs.
I take a shower in my bathroom. The warm water and soaps glide down my body. While showers don't fix everything, I will admit that there is something immensely comforting and encouraging about them. Washing your whole body is like a mini fresh start.
Once I'm done, I grab a clean pair of dark jeans. Since I haven't had a moment to retrieve my dirty clothes from...my floor I have to go searching for a clean t-shirt. I fish through my dresser to find a white tank top before throwing on a blue Bexley High zip-up hoodie.
As I scrub my teeth with my toothbrush, I try shooting a text to Will.
No response.
As I run a brush through my soaked hair, I try calling him.
No answer.
I flip my hair over to towel dry it as I wait for my phone to vibrate.
It doesn't.
Maybe his phone is dead. That could easily be the reason. Then there's the more crappy but likely reason lingering at the end of every thought I have, that maybe he's seen every message and every phone call but chooses to ignore them.
I grab my phone and head toward the door. I pause though, and walk to my desk instead. In a drawer is an already maladroitly opened envelop. The papers are still inside. I slap it on my palm a couple times, thinking, before folding it and shoving it into my pocket.
I leave the room.
My Mom's not humming anymore but she's still sitting at the kitchen table with her book and coffee. Her eyes skim the printed words on the page. I smile to myself. For the first time in a long time, she looks peaceful, comfortable. It's a warming sight. I hope it sticks.
I step into the kitchen. "I'm going out," I say, almost cringing at the familiar look in her eyes when she lifts her head. "To the grocery store," I add quickly.
"Okay..." she answers hesitantly. I start for the door, and when I get there I secretly pluck the car keys from the key hanger.
When she calls after me I'm sure she saw and I'm done for. When I look back at her, she's wearing an expression that I can't read. "Be home soon."
"I will," I say, as genuine as I can because I love my Mom and don't want her to worry when it's unnecessary. "I promise."
I'm stepping off the last step when Abigail's red Jeep pulls into my driveway. The driver's side door snaps opens and Abigail jumps out. I notice her usual radiant beam is replaced with an ordinary, almost forced smile. I frown.
Catching slight movement out of the corner of my eye, I see my Mom peeking out from between the curtains. She must remember Abigail because once she sees her, she abandons the window.
"You wanna do something today?" Abigail asks.
I feel bad before I can even answer. "Sorry Abigail, but I'm actually on my way out."
Her face falls. "Oh, yeah. That's totally okay." She starts turning away.
"Hey, is everything alright?" I ask, before she can escape into her Jeep.
"Yeah," she says, turning to me again. "I guess I've just been overthinking a lot lately."
My eyebrows furrow. "Overthinking what?"
She shrugs.
"Well, I'm not letting you leave until you talk to me about whatever," I say sternly, crossing my arms over my chest.
Abigail laughs, but it's shaky. "I've just been thinking. Of school. My parents. Connor."
My smile falters when his name comes up unexpectedly. Abigail walks to the steps to sit. I follow. "Connor?" His name sounds weird on my lips after all this time.
She nods without speaking. There are tears in her eyes now, threatening to spill out, her lip is quivering. Not a sight I've ever wanted to see.
I feel like she's holding so much in. I remember what she told me the night of Dustys' party, I have a tendency to keep things in that I shouldn't and I recently realized that trying to protect yourself from pain causes more pain.
"I miss him so much," she says, hiding her face in her hands as she sobs. I pull her into a hug.
And that's when I realize.
You know that shy little smile people get when they like someone? You ask them about a certain person and you know they like that person because they look down at their feet and get that shy smile. Well, Connor had that smile whenever he saw Abigail's Jeep pull into my driveway.
___
"Who's here?" I ask but my eyes don't stray from the TV where Will Smith sings to me about moving in with his auntie and uncle in Bel Air. I can feel Connor's body weight leave the sofa.
"A friend," he explains vaguely. I groan.
"Gotta do everything myself." I turn my body to the window and move the curtain aside. There I find a red Jeep sitting in my driveway and a girl standing by the driver side typing away on her cell phone.
Connor is tying his shoes by the front door. I walk over to him. "You're abandoning me for a girl?"
Connor stands up straight. He puts a hand on my shoulder and says, patronizingly, "Aw, don't be jealous, Dani. You're still my best friend."
I push his hand away and he smirks. Crossing my arms, I say, "Well, as long as you two are using protection."
"Sure thing, Mom," he says rolling his eyes and pulling out his phone. I wonder if he's texting the girl outside.
Once he's done, I'm wearing a sly smirk. "But seriously. Who is she?"
Connor looks at his feet, a shy smile playing on his lips. Could it be?
He doesn't answer, just rips the door open and goes down the steps to his awaiting princess. Her faces lights up when she sees him.
"Be safe!" I call out to him, patronizingly. He flips me the bird, but flashes me a bright smile when the brunette isn't looking.
___
That was a few weeks before his death. There's a mean pain in my chest and my stomach suddenly hurts. I work for a minute before I speak again to disintegrate this damn lump in throat and blink my eyes rapidly. Then, I turn to Abigail. She's sobbing into her hands. Can I tell her? Should I tell her? What can I say to make this better or even easier? We failed. And I don't mean an Algebra test or driving licenses test. We don't get any do overs.
I stare straight ahead of me. "You were in love with him, weren't you?" I ask quietly, as if speaking to loud will cause her to physically fall apart.
She looks at me and I almost wish she didn't. I can see all the grief and the sadness in those brown orbs. They fill up with tears again, but before they fall she says, "I have to tell you something."
"Okay."
She looks away. "I wasn't lying about what I said when I came up to you in the cafeteria that day. But that wasn't my only motivation."
When she doesn't continue, I push, "Okaaay."
"I was kind of hoping you'd guess why."
I give her a look, indicating that I need further information.
She takes a deep breath. "I was hoping you knew why Connor did it, so if I met you, and became friends with you, you'd tell me. I'm sorry."
My lips tug slightly at the sides. "I've been used."
She turns to me quickly. "But that wasn't the only reason why I went to Dusty's party with you or to the carnival with you. I feel so bad that I was even thinking like that. I totally understand if you think I suck and don't want-"
"Abigail, it's okay. I'm not mad at you," I tell her truthfully.
She sighs in relief. "Good."
We're quiet for a minute, thinking over all that we just said. Abigail is picking at the loose fringes on her shorts. "How could he have not known...how loved he is?" She asks, breaking the silence.
I look up at the cloudy sky and remember all the nights Connor came to me to talk. "I think it was more than that," I mutter, thinking of his Dad.
"I wish I could just not care so much about things that I have no control over. Sometimes I wish I could be more like you. No offense."
I snap my head toward her. More like me?
"Abigail," I say, making sure she's listening to my next words. "It's a privilege to be soft in a cruel world."
I'm not sure where those words came from, but they gave Abigail the strength to stand up. I decide not to tell her what I know about Connor's interest in her because what good would that do for her now? Other than add to her list of what ifs?
I jump in the driver seat of my Mom's Cadillac. Since I only have my permit, I have to be on my best behavior while on the road. Abigail agrees to pull out of the drive way the same time I do so my Mom won't hear us leave at separate times. Now I can only hope she doesn't glance out the window again and see me driving away, or that her car is gone.
We exit the driveway successfully. At the end of the street, Abigail turns left and I turn right. She gives me a slight wave before heading off. Watching her drive away, fighting the pain of loving someone in that way and then losing them makes me even more determined to do what I flew out of bed this morning for. I watch her Jeep glide across the road until she turns again, out of sight.
She pretended to be okay but I know better. There's no doubt in my mind that she's crying her heart out in that red Jeep of hers down the road. And I've never felt so useless before in my life.
•••
I've recited what I'm going to say to Will's parents a thousand times, and yet, I'm still on edge when I knock on their door. While I'm waiting, I notice the Mustang is nowhere to be seen. The door opens, and I figure since I'm here anyway, I'll see if I can get some answers. A tiny girl with perfect curls and a scowl stands in the door way glaring up at me. I remember her name being Kimmy.
"Hey..." I say a little awkwardly, since I didn't expect one of the kids to answer.
Kimmys' face scrunches together like Addie Bishop's face did when I showed up at one of her party's in my worn out grey converse.
"You're that girl who came over with Will the other night," she observes.
"Yeah. Is he around, by any chance?" I ask. I try to sound as kind as I can because I feel like this little person could eat me alive if she really wanted. Kimmys' eyes narrow, but before she can answer a hand grips the door, opens it wider and Wills' Mother comes into view.
She smiles brightly at me. "Dani, right?" She asks. I nod, realizing I have no idea what her name is. "This is a nice surprise. How is everything?"
"Good. Um-"
"She wants to see Will," Kimmy tells her Mom, crossing her arms and looking up at her Mother like me wanting to see Will is the most ludicrous thing she's ever heard. I wonder if this child is nice to anyone or if she's only a little bitch to me.
Kimmys' Mom's face falls grim. "I'm sorry, but Will left early this morning. Seemed really distracted."
"Damn," I mutter. It slips out before I can choke on it. And we all know little Kimmy is totally on top of this shit.
She points at me dramatically. "A dollar in the Swear Jar!"
Will lives in a house with a Swear Jar?
Kimmys' Mom snorts at her daughters' reaction.
The sound of glass meeting the floor and shattering into a billion pieces pierces our ears - causing all of us to jump - followed by a ton of giggling. Kimmy runs into the house toward the chaos like the shattering glass was her call from the heavens to glare at someone other than me. I can just imagine her scowling at her little brothers as they try to think of an excuse for the mess I'm assuming they just caused.
Wills' Mom looks conflicted, glancing inside the house then back at me. "I'm sorry, but I have to-"
"No, no, its fine. Go ahead." Before shutting the door, she smiles sympathetically at me.
I really wish people would quite doing that.
•••
When I stroll into Poem's and Latte's, I feel like a total stalker.
Well, a pathetic one anyway. If I was a decent stalker, I'd probably know where Will actually was at this point. I'm about to say screw it. He's the one who made things complicated. It's his fault I'm searching for him around town like a desperate girlfriend. It's his fault.
I can see him in my mind though. How everything is different when I'm with him. God, how fucking cliché does that sound, right? He was trying to help last night. I know that. But once I really started thinking about it all of it, I got freaked.
"Damn," I echo my response from earlier after I scan the café and Will isn't here. I hopelessly expected to see him in the little room in the back, eating a sandwich while watching 21 Jump Street.
I reach in my pocket for the envelope. I can feel the edges of the corners jabbing into my skin, threatening to cut and draw blood, but am also aware of the smoothness of the surface.
A lanky young boy with wide framed glasses climbs the stairs to the stage were people read off random poems. He takes the place in front of the microphone before pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper from his back pocket. "This is a poem by Tyler Knott Gregson," he explains, nervously looking around the crowd.
"I promise you
I will try harder
to be better.
I have battled with things
inside me
for longer than you know;
I do not know
what they are
or why they are there
I only know
that they feel
manageable,
defeatable,
when I
am around
You."
"Can I help you with something?" A lady wearing a Poem's and Latte's shirt says to me. She must've been trying to get my attention for a minute longer than she liked because her voice and face is laced with annoyance. I pull my sleeves over my fingers. The words to the poem playing over and over in mind on a loop.
I shake my head slowly. "No. I was just...I was just leaving."
I'm busting through the front doors when my phone vibrates with a message. I pull it out of my pocket to check it as I walk toward Mom's Cadillac, unsure what I'm doing next.
Meet me at the Havenwood Park
It's Will.
With my head down as I read the text, I walk right into a parked car, smacking my knee on it. I curse and cradle my knee until it feels better and before heading for my vehicle again.
As I sit in the Cadillac rubbing my knee, I read Will's text again. I realize the Havenwood Park is only a few minutes away. Sending a quick okay as a responds, I let out a sigh of relief I didn't realize I was hold. I almost tell him jokingly that I nearly got hit by a car because I was distracted by his text. I don't though. I decide not to push my luck.
•••
The Havenwood Park is located in the middle of a cute little neighborhood. Every time I pass the park, there are kids playing football with their families, picnics being held, couples smooching under the shade from the trees.
When I was little, my Dad would bring me here and we would play soccer for hours. Mom accompanied us a few times, as did Connor and Craig. The brothers always got competitive with each other, even when we put them on the same team. None of us were very good, but that never stopped us.
I park on the South side of the park. It has always looked the same. There are always people in it. As I walk through it today, there is an elderly couple sitting at one of the picnic tables, two teenage boys holding hands as they walk around the park, a man teaching a little girl how to ride a yellow bike without training wheels.
I stare at them for a moment. I want to run up to the little girl and order her to grasp every moment, every hug, every kiss, and every laugh in her hands. To keep them tucked away in her heart for as long as she can. To learn how to live in a moment as if it's already gone. I don't though. I continue walking past as her father lets go of the back of her bike and she rides smoothly down the sidewalk.
When I find Will, he's standing with his hands in his pockets, looking toward the park. His back is to me.
What am I going to say to him? I circle around so I'm standing in front of him. From here, I see his eyes are closed. The sun is out and is shining down on the park.
"Hey..." is all I can think to say so far.
His eyes snap open and lock onto mine. "Hey," he replies.
Still unsure how to continue, I blurt, "Come here often?"
"Dani..." he says softly. I try to focus because his voice makes my knees weak. I catch the glimpse of the corner of his lips tugging up before he can hide it from me. This isn't really the best time for jokes. I have things to say. How should I go about this..?
"It seemed easier being alone....for a while. I just kind of did what I had to do and that was that. I've realized something about myself though and I don't know if I knew I was doing it. I probably knew but didn't have anything worth changing for at the time. I always thought that if I pretended not to care, eventually, I wouldn't. That never seemed to happened though. After Connor's death, I couldn't take anymore. It was the last straw. I couldn't keep myself together." Unable to look at Will in the eyes, I glance everywhere but.
"But then you said that thing about numbing what shouldn't be numb at Jared's party and I wondered... maybe I can. But when I got this acceptance letter from OSU I was still fighting with myself and then last night you caught me off guard when you asked me about my future, so all I could think about was my past I and my stupid decisions"
I reach in the pocket so I can expose the envelope but it slips and falls to the ground. "Damn it," I mutter, reaching down to grab it. That's when I feel the tickle of tears streaming down my face. Will is there in a flash, taking me in his arms.
"You're not a distraction," I tell him as I sob. I say it again and again.
"Hey." He cups my face in his warm hands, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "It's alright. I believe you."
I want to say it again, because I want him to know. I need him to know that he's more than just a ride home or a skipped day of school or a night a carnival. He's all of those things and so much more. Before I can speak again, Will puts his hand on the back of my neck and kisses me. And when we break apart, we're both speechless in the best kind of way.
"The bottle is from last year," I say into his shoulder.
I can feel his warm breath on my skin. "Last year?" He asks into my hair.
I nod, practically falling asleep in his arms. "Yeah. I kind of had a dream last night. Well, it was a dream of a memory. Sounds weird but I remember everything now."
We sit at an unoccupied picnic table as I explain everything. Will listens to every word. He squeezes my hand and kisses my forehead when I finish. But before I can get up, he says, "I remember that night too."
There are no dots to connect or puzzle pieces finally fitting together in the back of my mind. This isn't that kind of discovery. But we're still sitting here on this wooden picnic table wondering how that night could be connected...to now.
"Did you walk here?" Will asks, as we walk hand in hand down the sidewalk.
Did I mention hand in hand?
"No, I borrowed my Moms' car," I tell him.
I hope my hand isn't sweaty.
"Hmm," Will murmurs. "Does she know you borrowed her car?"
"I think she'll figure it out."
The park is mostly empty now. Except for the two boys who are now standing under a tree. They look to be quietly arguing.
"Maybe you could come over for dinner. Get to know my Mom under better circumstances," I suggest. "I have to warn you though, she's been acting strange lately."
"How strange?"
"Like, normal."
"Well, that's fine by me. Because your Mom already invited me to dinner."
I snap my head toward him. "What?"
Will lifts his shoulders, chuckling. "I don't know. She called me this morning and said she wanted to get to know me better so she invited me to dinner. But because of our situation, I told her I might be busy with family things."
"How did she even get your number?" I ask.
Will shrugs. "I was getting ready to ask you that."
"Huh. She is a very clever women."
When we reach the Cadillac, I turn to him. "I can't believe you lied to my Mother."
He points a finger at me. "Hey, at least I didn't steal her car."
I glare at him. He grins like a child before pulling me to him and touching my lips with his.