Page 16 of Finally

“Good. I consider us friends too. But you know, friends talk; they tell each other things,” he said, choosing his words carefully.

“What is it you want to know?”

I waited as he cleared his throat. “Why don’t you ever talk about your parents? I mean, I know you haven’t met mine yet because they’re always at work, but I’ve told you all about them. I don’t know anything about your parents and sometimes…sometimes I get the feeling that you’re not very happy at home.” Christopher shot me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’m probably being too pushy. You can just ignore—”

“No, it’s okay. You are my friend. Actually, you’re my best friend so you’re allowed to ask me anything.” His shoulders slumped in relief and I felt bad that he’d been so worried. “You’re right…about me not being happy at home.”

He turned on the couch so he could face me, and I did the same. It wasn’t easy for me to talk about my parents. In fact, I’d never discussed my home life with anyone. But there was something about Christopher, with his blue-green eyes and friendly smile that made me feel like my secrets were safe with him. As I stared at him, I suddenly realized that I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know everything about me.

“My parents aren’t like yours. They aren’t good parents. They’ve never hit me or screamed at me, but sometimes, I almost wish they would because then at least they’d know I was there. They’ve never come to any of my school functions, they never ask how my day was, there’s never any dinner on the table when I get home…. Come to think of it, I don’t remember them ever telling me they loved me,” I said softly.

A deep sense of longing swept through me. Longing for the kind of parents who smiled when they saw me or cared about what I had to say. Parents who would notice when I was late getting home and then question why. Parents who would care if I lived or died. I’d spent my life pushing that longing away and learning to accept the way things were, but sitting there, talking to Christopher about all of it, had all those old feelings rushing back.

I’d started out slowly, but soon the words were tumbling out of me as if my body was trying to purge itself of all the pain and sadness and the overwhelming feeling of loneliness that I’d lived with all my life. “My dad is hardly ever around. He’s always out drinking and screwing other women and he’s never held down a job for more than six months, so we never have any money. I’ve lost track of how many times our water and electric have been shut off and I’ve had to sneak into school early so I could take a shower in the boys’ locker room.

“And my mom is no better. She’s never even had a job, but if she did, she wouldn’t be able to keep it because she’s always too drunk. I remember this one time, I was seven years old and it was a Saturday. I wanted to watch morning cartoons, so I turned the TV on, but nothing happened, then I noticed how quiet it was. Usually, I could hear the hum of our old refrigerator, but even that was silent. I was upset because when the same thing had happened before, I hadn’t been able to watch TV for a week. I didn’t understand at the time that the electric needed to be paid. All I knew was that I wanted to watch my shows so, I went running to my parents’ room to tell my mom and see if she could do something about it. Of course, my father was off somewhere, doing God knows what.”

My voice wavered with emotion and I could feel tears streaming down my face, but I didn’t stop talking. I needed to get the rest out. “I found her lying on her bedroom floor, her nightgown covered in vomit. I gagged because the smell was so wretched, and I remember burying my nose in my shirt and calling out to her. She didn’t respond so I had to go closer and shake her. She finally woke up and I helped her stand up. I asked her if she wanted to take a bath, but she just looked at me with these glassy, vacant eyes then she crawled into her bed. She didn’t even care that she was smearing vomit all over her sheets. After she passed out again, I grabbed a wet wash rag and started cleaning her up the best I could. And that’s how I spent my seventh birthday.

“There was even a time when I thought I’d gone invisible. My parents had been screaming and fighting for hours because my dad had come home smelling like some other woman’s perfume. I stood between them and begged them to stop fighting. I screamed and I cried until I was completely hoarse, and do you know what they did? They never even looked at me. Not once. And that’s when I knew. I really was invisible to them. I’ve always been invisible to them and it hurts. It hurts so damn bad and I’m so tired of being alone.

“That’s why I have to get out. I need to get out and make a life for myself. I’ve been talking to a recruiter and I’ve got everything set up to join the Marines. All I need is a diploma. That’s why I was so upset when I thought I might not graduate, and that’s why I asked you to tutor me. I just can’t do it. I can’t stay in that house for another year. I won’t.”

Christopher looked stricken by what I’d said. He reached out and cupped my hands that were clasped in my lap. I stared down at them in wonder, my body reacting in crazy ways to his touch. I had been deprived of basic human touch for so long. It was something that most people took for granted—a hand placed on your shoulder or even a simple pat on the back. Those were things I’d never had, and the fact that it was Christopher touching me made it even more overwhelming.

Slowly, I turned one hand over, shivering as his palm glided over mine. It was warm and soft, and I couldn’t imagine anything ever feeling better, but then his fingers threaded through mine and he gave a gentle squeeze and my world tilted on its axis. I knew that it probably didn’t mean anything to him; he was just offering me comfort because I was upset, but to me it was everything.

“I’m so sorry that you’ve been treated that way, but you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me now,” he whispered. I knew in that moment that I was in love with Christopher Brooks.

The disembodied voice of my vehicle’s navigation system pulled me back to the present and I realized that we’d already arrived at the hotel I’d booked, about twenty miles outside of New River. I parked the truck where I could keep an eye on it and ran inside to grab the keycard from the receptionist. Luckily, no one spotted Topher as he climbed out of the truck, and the two of us made our way through the hotel lobby and up to our room.

“It’s been a long day and I’m starving. Want to order a pizza and just stay in?” he asked as he walked to the closet and opened the door.

The question had been delivered in a casual manner, but it was so reminiscent of what I’d just been thinking about in the truck that it sent a shiver down my spine. Worst of all, it left an ache deep down in my gut because I knew that there would be no comforting touches or gentle smiles tonight. Those things were no longer permitted between us. He’d made sure of it.

“Sure, whatever you want. I’m just gonna use the restroom,” I mumbled. I could see the confusion on his face as he looked at me over his shoulder, but I didn’t care. I had to get out of there and away from him, if even for a few minutes. Just long enough to get my thoughts in order and my emotions in check.

I grabbed my bag and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I was there to do a job and as soon as that job was over, we’d go back to living our separate lives. That should be a good thing. It should bring me relief. So why did the thought of never seeing Topher again hurt so bad?

---