A/N: Hey guys!! Long time no update. This chapter is somewhat a "flashback" chapter to fill in certain aspects of the story. Hope you guys enjoy!!
Graduation
"Babe! We need a picture," I called up the stairs to Jon, who was fixing his hair for the big day. We were graduating in just two hours, or as our principal made clear, "7:00 p.m. sharp! Do not wear anything casual, this is your big day. Dress to impress, students!" in his drunken haze. Poor guy, maybe he'd sober up for our big day.
My mom fixed my hair for me as I stood and waited. My white sundress and wedges made me look as L.A. as possible. Mom drove over 45 minutes to get to our house as early as possible to make sure she could curl my hair and see me on my big day.
"Mom, my hair looks great," I was shocked to see how cute she had made the curls look on my stick straight hair.
"I've always wanted to do hair. That's what Dr. Nhembra told me to do in rehab, he told me to start a new career in something I enjoy. So, maybe I'll be a beautician."
"You should," Mary chimed in. "In fact, I need mine done soon. Maybe I can pay you to give me a new look," she smiled at Mom.
Mom smiled awkwardly at Mary. She looked beautiful. Her aunt and uncle had helped her a lot. She had put on some weight and looked great. Her usually stringy blonde hair was now voluminous and beautiful. Her new car helped her to get back and forth to her small job to pay for her nice apartment. My dad can no longer be near her or me and has several feds watching his every move.
Finally, Jon stepped out of the bathroom and came downstairs in his dress shirt and khaki pants. I made a whistling noise at him and he chuckled.
"Babe, you look great," I smiled and grabbed his hand.
"Me? Look at you," he bounced a curl.
Mary took a few pictures of Jon, a few of me, some of both of us, some of me and Mom, Greg and Mary with me, and finally with Jon.
"Enough pictures," Jon rolled his eyes. "I just want my diploma."
"Shut up," his mom smacked his arm. "I'll take a million more.
We finally all left to go to graduation, and after what seemed like years of commotion, we finally graduated.
"Jonathan Gregory Brandis," the loud speaker announced as Jon marched proudly across the stage, shaking our assistant principals hand and smiling at the crowd.
"Ryan James Cameron," he announced next. Ryan swaggered across the stage, his huge muscle of an arm shaking Mrs. Reed's tiny arm.
Finally, they called my name. "Absidee Marie Davis," they announced. I proudly strutted my hard working ass across that stage. When I shook Mrs. Reed's hand, it felt like a big "fuck you," to my past. Fuck you, Dad. Fuck you, depression. Fuck you, Brit. Fuck you.
"I earned it," I said to Mrs. Reed as she handed me my diploma. She smiled at me, knowing the pain I had gone through in the past four years.
As I made my way back to my seat, tears fell from my eyes. Jon hugged me as I walked towards the seats for us graduates.
After the ceremony, our principal grabbed the microphone and shuffled to the middle of the stage. His forehead was drenched in sweat, shimmering like a lake towards the auditorium crowd. His buttons struggled to stay put as his beer gut poured over his tight, cheap leather belt.
"Parents," he gruffed into the microphone, clearing his throat, "I present to you the class of 1994. You may turn your tassels now, students."
Jon and I grinned to each other as we turned our tassels, snickering at our drunk principal.
Finally, we were released into the world as high school graduates. Jon, Rachael, Ryan, Ryan's parents, my mom, Greg, Mary and I were all planning on having a huge party at Ryan's.
The parties at Ryan's lately have been repetitive shit- someone upsets Jon or just starts unnecessary drama between the friend group. But this time, things were different. James and his wife had suggested the adults have their time together while us graduates had our time. Jon and I were leaving in 2 days for Orlando, while Rachael and Ryan had a flight to Hawaii the next evening. It was no big party, just one last good time.
Greg, Mary, and my mother all rode to the Cameron's together while Jon and I rode together. I changed out of my dress and slipped into some denim shorts and Jon's t shirt, while Jon had on a t shirt and basketball shorts.
"Did you see the look on the principal's face while you snickered loudly during the prayer?" Jon snorted as he laughed. His blue eyes sparkled as his maniacal laugh blasted over the music.
"No! What was it?" I couldn't believe he actually heard me.
"Oh my god, Abi, he looked like he needed a fucking shot or 6."
"I wouldn't be surprised if I saw him at the bar tonight," Jon shook his head as we pulled into Ryan's long driveway, about an hour later than our parents.
"Oh yeah! I forgot about the senior party at the bar."
"It's gonna be fun, I guess, a good beer is always fine with me," Jon shrugged as he parked.
"Remember when I was the one driving us everywhere and getting drunk and you were the adult?" I joked as we got out and walked in.
"Yeah, wow. What a sad time."
I giggled small as I kicked off my shoes and found Ryan and Rachael in the back living room. Truth is, Jon is happier now that he's drinking more. It's not to the point where I'm concerned, but I know the risk of him being an alcoholic is higher. I knew Jon was smarter than to let something like that control his life though, so I let him party all he wants.
As we walked in, Ryan handed each of us a beer and we all sat down, looking through scrapbooks his mom made of all of us throughout high school.
"Wow, that's right when we first became friends," I smiled. It was a photo of Jon, Brit, Ryan and I our ninth grade year in front of Ryan's house. "What was this for?"
"It was my Halloween bonfire," Ryan guessed as he looked at it carefully. "Yeah, because I wanted to watch IT but we had to wait until late November, so instead we watched some dumb shit from the movie rental store," he smiled, handing it back to me.
I remembered that day perfectly now. The crisp fall air, the cringy outfits, the edgy music. It all came back to me as I looked at young Absidee, wearing the stained red flannel, the barely holding it together t shirt, and the ripped jeans.
Halloween, 1990
"Abi! Are you going to Ryan's tonight?" Jon asked me as we walked through the hallway to our next class.
"I'm not sure," I shrugged, uneasy. Jon is my new friend. He was nice to me from the moment I met him. Never judged me, never hurt me, but at home things weren't peachy keen. Plus, Ryan and I have only talked a handful of times.
Once Jon and I became friends after he saw me crying in the courtyard, he started to invite me to eat lunch with him and his two friends, Ryan and Brit. Brit is super nice, she's a flirt but she could never harm anyone. Never heard her say one rude thing, even when the mean lunch lady loudly insulted her eyeshadow. She simply smiled and moved on.
Ryan is quiet. When he isn't, he's hilarious and strong willed. Not very smart, but very rich.
"Ryan Cameron," he smiled and introduced himself that one day at lunch. "And uh, I guess an ice breaker, my dad is James Cameron. I don't talk much about it, don't treat me weird," he explained.
"Who?" I asked him, never having heard of James Cameron.
"Absidee isn't an actress or musician. She's normal," Jon explained jokingly.
"Lucky lass. My dad is a really famous director. I hate to sound like a bragger. But you get the idea."
I continued to eat lunch with them after that, only speaking when spoken to. Kind of like at home. They eventually asked why I went to a private school, specifically how, considering they knew I didn't come from money, or at least at home. Without much detail, I did finally explain that my grandmother paid for a 4 year tuition right before she passed away. I left out the rough home life and the illegal driving.
"Ah, come on Abi," Jon begged me. "We can go to my house before and hang out!"
"Well, uh," I got nervous. "I actually drive here. Illegally. Secretly."
"You drive?" his voice was littered with excitement.
"Yeah," I smiled shyly.
"Well jeez! Let's go to your house and you can drive us to Ryan's!"
"Uh, we may be better going to your house. I'll drive, if that's okay."
"Sure," he patted my shoulder. "That's cool with me, Abi."
That morning
"Mom! Dad! I'm doing laundry. Do you guys have anything you need washed?" I smiled at my parents through their bedroom door. The smell of some kind of drug burned my nostrils, but nonetheless I smiled as though I couldn't tell.
"Here," Dad threw a bunch of clothes off the floor at me. "Don't be late for school." He slammed the door in my face.
"I-" I started to say, fearful he may hit me.
He whipped open the door again, looking annoyed. "What?" he demanded. I could see Mom smoking a cigarette and snorting coke on the floor.
"I couldn't find my jean jacket. Grandma gave it to me for Christmas, I don't know if you remember," I struggled to smile. "I was wondering if you knew where it was."
I saw Dad look back at Mom and then to me again. "We sold it."
"You what?" I choked up, heartbroken.
He rolled his eyes and stepped out of the bedroom, sitting me down at the kitchen table.
"I know at your grandma's things were different. You snapped your fingers and got what you wanted. Here, that's not how they work. We had to sell a lot of your clothes to pay the electric bill and keep food in your belly. Do you want to starve?"
"No, Daddy," at this point I was sobbing. I loved that jacket, and I wanted Dad to accept me.
"Here," he threw me a flannel, some jeans and an old t-shirt. "You can wear this until you get some new clothes. Which reminds me, your mom can't work. She's, uh, she's disabled. I don't work, I shouldn't have to. So, you need a job."
"Yes sir," I nodded at him. I was starting to plan out hiding spots for my few remaining clothes. "Daddy?"
"What?" he whipped around.
"Can I keep the few clothes I washed this morning? They're just t-shirts and jeans. I normally sleep in the t-shirts, so they're not worth a lot, if anything."
"These?" he questioned the laundry basket on the table beside the washer and dryer.
"Yes sir."
He dug through them, deciding on his own if they were worth much. "Keep em. Clean up this mess before you go to school."
"Yes sir. I love you, Daddy. Thank you for letting me stay here."
"Yeah," he nodded, walking back into his bedroom, slamming the door.
The jeans, which were my mothers, were actually a good fit. However, the t-shirt and flannel were my dad's. They smelled of cigarettes and beer and were loose on me.
I folded my clothes and put them in the cheap drawers in my room, which I knew would eventually get sold. Then, I threw the laundry my dad threw to me in the washing machine and tried to fix my hair. When nothing would fix it, I ultimately decided on just throwing it half up half down. I threw on my old Chuck Taylor's and finally left, illegally driving my grandmother's car.
"Hey Abi!" I heard Jon call out to me as I walked towards the front door of the school. His mom drove away in their nice Toyota Camry.
"Hey," I smiled as the crisp, fall air nipped at me through the flannel.
We talked about our usual stuff, school, homework, whatever, before Jon parted and went to his first block. Jon hadn't the slightest idea what my homelife was like, and it showed. He would constantly ask questions like, "what do your parents do?" or "are you and your parents close?" Not that it mattered, I didn't want him to judge me for my rather poor homelife, although something told me he wouldn't judge me.
Now, here we are, Jon trying to convince me to go to Ryan's. "Puuuuh-leaaaaase," he begged. "I have a cool new CD we can play, if your car has a CD player."
"It does. Look, meet me at my car after school and we'll go to your house."
"Okay!" Jon cheered. "I'll see you at 2:45 Abi!"
"You'll actually see me at lunch in 25 minutes," I corrected him.
"Oh, right," he blushed.
"Break it up, you two," Mrs. Mullen snapped at us. "Class starts in precisely 57 seconds. No tardies are to be accepted."
"Yes ma'am," I rolled my eyes and walked into my tiny, 8 person class for Algebra.
After a very long and boring 25 minutes, our dinosaur aged teacher dismissed us to the cafeteria. I looked down in disgust at my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which was the free kid food. There's a janitor who, if you pay him a little extra, will let you leave to get good food.
I threw my food away in disgust. Not like I was planning on eating anyways, did I ever? As the cafeteria filled and I waited for one of my new friends to find me seated by the window, it quickly grew to be very warm. I struggled to keep my flannel on as I grew warmer. Why must I do this to myself? Brit, Jon and Ryan didn't cut themselves. They didn't starve themselves either. Why do I have to be so different?
Lunch that day was usual. Everything, in fact, has been usual. My parents abused me, as usual. I cut and starved, as usual. I didn't fit in, as usual. Nothing ever changed. But something about Jon was unusual. In a good way. It made me interested in him as a human.
"You guys know Abi can drive?" Jon bragged as he bit his sandwich.
"How?" Ryan was intrigued. His young, boyish body seemed riddled with energy as his already somewhat muscular arms grabbed at his food.
"Well, my grandma left me her car when she passed away. She left me everything basically, except her house."
"And your parents don't mind?" Brit further investigated, way too excited.
"No, you see, I live way out of walking or biking distance. And my parents work a lot. If I didn't drive here I would be either extremely late or just never come."
"Why did your grandma care so much about where you went to school?" Brit asked as she sipped her water.
"I lived with her my whole life until she passed away."
"Why?" Ryan continued asking. Jon looked ready to interject and stop the questions, he knew I was growing uncomfortable.
"My parents were travelling workers," I lied. "They didn't want me to have a chaotic childhood, moving a lot and stuff. So, my grandma let me live with her.
"Cool stuff," Jon smiled. I could tell he could read lies like a book. "So, Ryan, what are we going to do at your party tonight?"
"I don't really consider it a party. It's just us four. But it'll be fun. We're gonna order a pizza, watch Halloween, eat some snacks and candy, play games, and just have some fun. Plus, our new puppy, Diesel, is gonna have to hang with us while Mom and Dad's party goes on."
"Sweet," Jon nodded.
After school, Jon met me at my car as planned.
"Are you sure your mom won't mind me driving you home?"
"I normally walk home, so believe me she won't care."
I was nervous to meet Jon's friends. I had never really met any of my friend's parents, because I never really had friends. My grandma homeschooled me for as long as she could before deciding a real high school was for me. I wasn't sheltered by any means, Grandma was easy to get along with. I could go out and do whatever I wanted, but once my weekly allowance of $20 was gone, it was gone until the following Monday. As long as I was home by 7:00, my grandma wouldn't even really ponder or question where I had been. Not that she didn't care, if I wanted to tell her something I could, but she wanted me to learn independence. She probably knew her life was going to be short, or shorter than I could have ever dreamed. I pictured her being at my graduation, cheering as I marched across the stage, or watching me raise my first child. I pictured her living long and possibly forever, but when I got the call that she was no longer with us, I knew my life would be changed forever. I wouldn't have a support system, or at least the one I was so used to. I wouldn't have anyone to come to when I was hurt or excited. When I got the call, I dreadfully looked at a family picture, one of my mom as a teenager.
She was nestled in comfortably between my grandma and grandpa. She had the most beautiful long blonde hair, with freckles lightly sprinkled across her face and blue eyes to match. And the most beautiful smile. I guessed she was about 14 in the picture, it was certainly before I was even thought of. Then, without warning, I cried and cried. I resented God for taking away my grandmother. He knew the type of person my mother was, he knew how my father treated her. He knew I was going to live in misery.
"Now, now, no tears. You'll be starting high school, you'll be busy. Get involved in something, keep yourself busy. And never forget your Aunt and Uncle," my aunt Wanda told me as we buried my grandma.
"Why can't I come live with you?" I begged.
"Because, dear, the law specifies you have to live with your mother and father. Plus, I live in a whole 'nother state. You wouldn't want that kind of move! Look, Cecilia left you everything, including the house. But, you're 14 and legally cannot live in it alone. So for now, it's in my name. When you turn 21, I'll hand it over to you. You can sell it, live in it, whatever you want, but do not go messing around in it, you hear? I'm going to have some tenants live in it, wealthy retired folk. Have you gotten your furniture out?"
I nodded. "Some of it. I can't move a lot of it into my parents home."
"They'll probably sell it for the dope they breath. Don't let them into the home. Your grandmother also left you very well off financially, be it you may want to go to college, and I hope you do. Don't spend any of it unless you absolutely must. Don't tell your parents about it either. I hope you understand, Abi, I'm looking out for you."
Aunt Wanda was the strictest lady I knew. But she was always caring. Behind her black veil, her blue eyes shone with love. Uncle Mike wasn't half as stern. He was fun to be around, not that Aunt Wanda wasn't, she could be a riot as well, but Mike was hilarious. He always had something to say.
"Come on now, let's get you some food. There's a big meal waiting for us at Cecilia's. We'll be out of your hair by week's end."
No friends attended my grandmother's funeral. No friends asked for me to have sleepovers. No friends called. Because I had no friends. Therefore, I never had to try and impress parents before. Jon didn't seem too worried about me meeting his parents, but I was a nervous wreck.
"You good?" he laughed as I uncontrollably shook as we walked to his front door. The house was not what I was expecting. When I found out Jon was an actor, I was expecting a big house in a neighborhood I would never dream of being in. But instead, the house, which still was rather large compared to my tiny half house, yet still smaller than my grandmother's house, sat comfortably in your average typical neighborhood. I could see that there were two stories, possible a basement, but nothing to be shocked at.
"Come on," he grabbed my arm lightly and pulled me inside. "Hey Mom! I'm home , I brought my friend Abi with me. We're going to Ryan's together. She drives."
I was expecting a slender, model looking lady with silky blonde hair and expensive clothes to pop out of the laundry room where she was, but instead, your average looking mom popped out, smiling. She had long, dark hair and freckles like Jon, and wore a t-shirt and jeans. She was beautiful, nonetheless, but down to earth beautiful. A natural beautiful.
"My names Mary. You can just call me Mary. And your name is Abi? Short for Abigail, I assume?"
"It's actually short for Absidee," I smiled and shook her hand.
"Absidee? Never heard that name. It's pretty. How do you spell that?"
I spelled out my name and nickname to her. She nodded in amusement and offered Jon and I some food. Jon declined as well as I, and she reluctantly went back to laundry.
"You guys go up to Jon's room, actually Jon, give her a tour of the house so she's comfortable. Abi, it was nice to meet you, make yourself at home."
Jon nervously showed me around his house. I could tell he never had girls over. His shy, nerdy giggle made me blush every time, and when we finally got to his room, he nervously opened it.
"Don't judge me," he laughed as I stepped in. He had posters of a few movies that were being released soon, ones that I assumed he was in. Other than that, it was a normal teenage boy's room. I sat on his bed and looked at his nightstand, which had a lamp, lotion and tissues on it. I giggled and pointed at it, to which Jon turned an unhealthy shade of red and hid them.
"Don't worry, I won't tell," I giggled. Typical boys.
Jon asked what kind of stuff I liked, and we bonded over music taste. We both really liked the hippie stuff and Nirvana, a newer band that a lot of people didn't know about yet.
"So, Abi, do you like video games?"
"The only games I've ever played are the ones at the arcade," I blushed.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
Jon looked around for a moment, swinging his arms dramatically as he did so. "Well, uh, would you want to?"
"Sure," I stood up and smiled. Jon looked more than excited when I sat down on a bean bag beside him to play video games with him.
"Chicks never really play video games, or at least any of the ones I've hung out with."
"Oh, so you bring a lot of girls home," I teased.
Jon licked his lips and paused for a second. "No," he giggled. His cheeks turned slightly pink as he ran his hand through his blonde hair. "I mean, sometimes Ryan and Brit come over," he shifted in his bean bag. "What's it to you?" he smiled.
"I just didn't know if my new friend was a hoochie or not," I shrugged.
Suddenly, Mary called upstairs and asked what we were up to.
"Nothing!" he called down. Then he looked at me and quietly added, "don't tell her about playing video games. I'm supposed to keep them downstairs so I don't stay up all night playing them."
Before I could say anything, his mom called back, "Jon, your dad will be home in about 20 minutes or so. Do you guys want anything? I'm fixing dinner."
"No thanks, Ryan is having some pizza tonight. Thanks anyways, Mom!"
His mom said okay and I heard her walk away. Jon and I spent the next hour or so playing video games until Ryan called and told us we can come on over to his house.
"Wow," I smiled, looking at the picture. "You guys were my first real friends," I said tearing up a little.
Ryan smiled as he flipped through some channels. "When IT came out, I remember how hype we were for Jon. You remember, Jonny boy?"
"Oh yeah. Every girl in town wanted my autograph. But it wasn't half as crazy as when Sidekicks came out. God, that seems like ages ago."
I laughed as I remembered Jon in sidekicks- his long blonde hair and sparkly eyes, complete with his baggy clothes. He went on a few dates with some girl he acted in that movie with, but nothing serious.
"Oh man, here's an oldy," Jon chuckled as he flipped through Ryan's records. "I remember Mom and Dad dancing to this when I was a kid."
"What is it?" I asked, curious.
"Put Your Head on my Shoulder," he answered as he put the record on.
Jon dramatically cleared his throat and began to sing with Paul Anka- "Put your head on my shoullllllllder," he belted as he grabbed my hand and sang ridiculously.
Ryan smiled and stood up to join him in singing- mocking a Sinatra and Martin duet. Rachael and I couldn't stop blushing and giggle at how ridiculous Jon and Ryan looked trying to be classy 1950's singers in their old t-shirts and shorts.
"Fuck acting," Jon smiled as he held my hand, sitting next to me. "I should be a singer!"
"Oh yeah, and I should be a big movie star," I sarcastically answered.
Ryan laughed and suddenly looked confused. "Abi, why did you go to a school for actors?"
It occurred to me that I never explained to them why I attended a school specifically for actors when I was nothing but your less than average girl.
"Well," I started. "My grandfather's company was huge in Hollywood, whatever it was. But he ran it from Washington. Anyways, I guess Grandma and him really wanted me to go to high school with their friends kids."
January 1989
"Absidee, dear, will you take this upstairs to your grandma?" my great-aunt Wanda asked as she made a bedside tray with soup, her medicine, water, and a magazine.
"Yes ma'am," I answered her. While Grandma was going through her cancer treatments, aunt Wanda and uncle Mike were helping out around the house- they were working from the upstairs office- aunt Wanda at night while uncle Mike slept and took care of Grandma, and uncle Mike during the day while aunt Wanda took care of Grandma and me and tried to get some sleep. Uncle Mike cooked me breakfast every morning at 6 a.m. and helped me with my math work, and around 10 o'clock he would go to his temporary office and work until 7 p.m. It's a lot of work, but I help as much as I can.
I walked up the dark cherry steps and down the long hallway to my grandma's door. "Grandma, I have some food and magazines for you," I knocked softly on her door.
"Come in," she croaked. I opened the door to see her propped up in her huge cherry wood bed frame, all alone looking tiny in the big blankets on the king sized bed. No one besides her had slept in it since my grandfather died.
"Here you go," I smiled at her. She was getting noticeably worse in her cancerous state- she usually kept her long, beautiful hair permed and in a beautiful updo, her makeup always perfect and outfits to the latest fashion standards. But instead, now she is severely underweight, her eyes dark and restless, hair in a low pony tail and short. I knew her days were limited, but I pretended to be ignorant to her worsening condition.
"Thank you," she smiled as I set the tray down beside her. "Sit with me," she patted her bed.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, smiling.
"I'm okay today, better than others. How is your school work?"
"Let's say eighth grade is under my belt," I smiled. I had been working extra hard to make her proud. "Pretty soon I'll be able to start my ninth grade classes if you order my books."
"That's what I want to talk to you about. Abi, I've enrolled you in a private school in Los Angeles."
"Why?" I asked, confused at why she would want me in such a bad learning environment when I was used to the comfort of my own home in Beverly Hills. Not that I snobbed it, but I didn't understand why she would change it all of a sudden.
"Your grandfather always talked about you growing up to be close with his friends grandkids, of course they're all big Hollywood names. Though your grandfather and I always agreed on everything, that was one we disagreed on. I didn't want you to be a brat, but now that you seem to have a good grip on life and be well put together, I want you to go to school with them and graduate with them. It's a school for people with busy schedules like actors, but you should fit right in. Are you excited?"
Part of me was excited, but the other part was nervous and shaky. "I just don't understand, why am acting school?"
"Because, dear, it's ideal. It's not an 'acting school,' it's a school that's ideal for actors because of their schedules. But the school itself is great. Don't go about complaining, your grandfather would want this, and I've already paid the tuition," she sternly told me, still with a glimmer of joke in her eyes.
"Yes ma'am," I sighed and smiled.
"How are the driving lessons with Mike going?"
"He let me out on the highway last night. I'd say it's going well, and he says I'm on a good track to getting my license next March."
"Good," she smiled. "I need you to be a good driver by September, so that you can take yourself to school."
"Yes ma'am."
"Now onto better topics," she smiled as she flipped through her magazine, "once this mess goes away, what hairstyle should I get to celebrate?"
She was looking through a high end fashion magazine with this season's latest fashion trends. I picked a short, curly shoulder-length hairstyle for her.
"Darling, let's look at some photographs," she smiled as she pulled out a photo album. "I don't believe we've talked much about your grandfather."
She opened the front cover to reveal a written title: "To Mom and Dad, Love, Janice-Marie." with hearts drawn all over.
"Your mother gave this to me for Christmas when she was 12 or so. I just added to it a lot over the years. Here's your mom and Grandpa at the beach," the picture was of my mom in a short romper with her platform sandals, long blonde hair and beautiful smile. In a way, she reminded me of Marsha on the Brady Bunch, just way more beautiful in my opinion. She could have easily had any guy she wanted.
"She was so beautiful," I said choking up. It's been months since I've seen her.
"She was 14 I believe," Grandma noted as she kept flipping. "Here's you and your grandpa," she smiled as she showed baby me in my grandpa's arms as he smiled as big as ever. "Your mom and dad may not be very good people, but your grandfather was the best man I knew. He never spoke a negative word to anyone- with the exception of Tom, and he loved you and your mother very, very much. It would break his heart to know how she treats you."
I smiled small as I choked back more tears. I took a quick glance down at my wrist, which had recently been cut. It was something new I had recently started, I don't know why, but for some reason it just helped.
The last time I saw my mom, she was walking me to the library to "spend quality time together," which I assumed was legally required.
"How do you and Dad live in California? It's so expensive," I whistled as I walked by a music store with outrageous prices.
"It helps that we don't have you around eating all of our food," she muttered. "Your Grandpa bought us that shit hole of a shack for you to live in, I guess. Helps that we don't pay for it or nothing," she flicked a cigarette on the sidewalk.
"Oh," I said quietly. "How's Dad?" it had been a year since I saw him last.
"A shithead. Look, do you have a library card?"
"Yeah."
"Go on in there. I'll be at the liquor store down the block, when I'm done be ready so we can hurry up and get home."
I sighed, disappointed, but nonetheless agreed. When I stepped in the library, I walked upstairs to the young adult section to pick out a book or two. When I finally found two that I liked, I sat down beside a gothic looking teenage girl and smiled.
"How are you?" I smiled, starting a conversation to avoid the awkward tension.
"Shitty," she mumbled.
"Oh," I blinked and sat back, hurt by her harshness. It seemed no one wanted to talk to me.
"I don't mean that in a rude way," she explained, leaning forward and closing her book, which was "On the Road," by Jack Kerouac. "Let me explain. My Dad just threw me out and the bitches at my school just beat my ass. Called me all sorts of names. Look," she pulled up her shirt, revealing a bunch of bruises and cuts.
"They did that?" I was shocked. I had never been exposed to that kind of behavior.
"They did this," she pointed to the bruises. "I did this," she pointed to the cuts, too deep to be believable.
"You cut yourself?"
"Yeah," she sighed, looking drained.
"How? Why?"
"A knife. It takes the pain away, I guess. I don't know. Never try it, kid. How old are you anyways?"
"I'm 13, I'll be 14 in about a month or two."
"Life seems okay for you," she sighed. "Must be nice. You ever had someone hurt you?"
"Yeah, my mom. My dad too, I guess."
"Fuckin' sucks. My mom left us. Can't blame her. This is all I have left of her," she showed me a bracelet with a silver heart on it.
Before I could get another word in, the library doors swung open and I saw my mom walk in, holding a bag with liquor in it. "Absidee, let's go," she loudly said, despite the quiet signs posted everywhere.
"That's my cue," I sighed. "Nice talking to you-"
"Gracie," she said. "Nice to meet you too, Absidee. I hope to see you around," she smiled and grabbed her book again. I turned to leave as my mom eyed her down, suspiciously.
"Do you want to eat?" I asked, hungry.
"God, your grandma keeps you fat. No, I have no money."
Fat. The word stung me like bees. The doctors always told me that I was normal weight for my height and age, but I never felt it. 100 pounds felt like too much.
When my grandma died, I picked up the blade for the first time. It was out of no where, seemingly. I came home from a day at the arcade and I got the call. I knew what was coming, and it hurt too much to accept. I had been skipping meals every few days, eating a meal or two once or twice a week. No one noticed or said anything, but I was happy when I weighed myself to find I was 85 pounds.
Jon and I had been friends for about 6 months when he saw the cuts. He had commented on my lack of eating, but I never told him about why. I explained my mom was cooking at home or I had a big breakfast, but never that I was just scared to eat.
When he discovered my cuts, he didn't exactly freak out. I knew it made him sad, but he didn't exactly freak out like I expected. We were 15 and hanging out before school during a two hour delay and I had been cutting before I went to his house after a bad fight with my parents over me not drying their clothes.
"Abi, you're bleeding," he jumped up as we sat on his bed, watching TV.
I looked down and saw my green flannel staining red with that familiar deep shade, and was suddenly overcome with anxiety.
"Here, let me help you," he stood up, led me to the bathroom and pulled out a first aid kit.
I winced as I pulled off my flannel, revealing my left wrist that was gushing blood. I knew there was no hiding the cuts now. I knew he would know what it was. Tears poured out of my eyes as I heard Jon go silent. When I opened my eyes, I saw him biting his lip in a pondering state as he tried to figure out the ace bandage wrap.
"Here," he poured alcohol on a rag and wiped the blood and cuts off, blinking hard to hide tears, I assumed.
"Fuck," I mumbled through the burning.
"I'm sorry, does it hurt?" he jerked his arm back, his blue eyes glimmering with concern.
"No, it's fine," I said quickly. "Just please hurry up."
"Okay," he nodded as he finished cleaning it up. When he wrapped my arm up, the wrap didn't look necessarily professionally done. I took what I could get, though. "So, what's that?" he finally asked as we sat on the counter in the bathroom.
"I think you know."
"Yeah," he nodded, his long blonde hair fell in his face while he talked. "Did you start when I was gone?" he was filming Sidekicks around this time and was constantly in and out to film.
"Not exactly. I started when my grandma died. Like, that day. I don't like to talk about it."
Jon nodded and smiled. "Well, no judgement from me. But I want you to stop, please. Talk to me when you're sad, okay?"
I nodded, knowing I probably wouldn't come to him when I was sad, simply because of the burden it causes. We hugged and went back to his room, watching Friends.
"Oh, so that's how we got stuck with Miss Absidee Davis," Ryan joked. "Well, I'm glad."
"Boys, I hate to be a buzzkill, but the bar party for the seniors starts in half an hour, should we leave soon?" Rachael asked, smiling her natural devilish grin.
"I reckon we should," Ryan shrugged. "Jonno, you ready?"
"Yeah man," Jon stood up and grabbed his keys. "You ready?"
"Yeah," I smiled and stood up with him. We all took Ryan's car to the nicest bar in L.A. to meet up with all of our graduating class.
Ryan and Rachael has to call it a considerable early night considering they left for Hawaii the next day, so Jon and I didn't get to spend as much time as we normally would have. Regardless, it was still a great night for us all to party one last time.