Page 13 of Disorderly

“Who was he?” Peter shoved his hands into the front pockets of his pants as he led me through the school to the door closest to the staff parking lot.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Was he really wanting to talk about Mason? For our first conversation in almost two weeks? And what was with his tone? Was he angry with me? Maybe about having to drive me. The anger I felt toward him grew. How dare he come into my life and question me when he was the one that walked away?

I reached out, grabbing his arm, and pulling him to a stop near his car. My anger rode me hard. “What? Don’t you remember Mason, mybestfriend in kindergarten and grade one? Because I remember all your friends that you’ve introduced me to.”

He stared at me as if I was crazy. And maybe I was. But he started it. He’d left me alone. Twice. And then he pulled a disappearing act. His shoulders slumped and he lost the look of indifference he’d worn on his face as we’d walked the halls. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was being an ass. I thought he looked familiar, but he’s a lot different looking than the skinny runt you used to play with.”

Chuckles left my mouth, easing the tension in my body a little. He was right. Even I wouldn’t have completely known him if he hadn’t spoken to me first and if I hadn’t spent so much time with him when we’d been younger. Something Peter hadn’t done since he’d been in high school at the time. “You’re right. He’s not smaller than me. I mean, he towers over me now. You could probably fit two of me in his shirts.”

Peter added his chuckles to mine as he took my school bag from me. With the push of a button, the trunk door on his car rose. He placed my bag and his inside before closing it. “Get in. We can talk more on the way.”

Chapter Nine

Katy

He said we’d talk,but he lied. Only the soft sounds of Disaster Hamsters, an alternative rock band that contained a guy who was from here, filled the air. Well, that and the sound of Peter drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

Within fifteen minutes, the sound of his incessant tapping drove me nuts. And it didn’t help that I thought he played the same song over and over again on repeat. I mean, it was a great song—one I listened to at night when I wanted to gather my anger over what had happened to me—but it wasn’t conducive to a calming drive to a therapy appointment.

“Stop it!” Under normal circumstances I would have been horrified for sounding so snarky and on the verge of yelling. That wasn’t who I was. I was the sweet, mild mannered, almost introverted girl. The one who went out of her way to find those on the outside, those who appeared scared, and helped them to relax and join in with my calming, compassionate nature. At least that is how a couple of reference letters put it when I wanted to volunteer on a more permanent basis with the Baptist church’s refugee group and the weeklong mission trip I went on two summers ago to one of the remote reservations in Northern Manitoba.

His hands stilled, curling around the steering wheel so tightly that his fingers started to turn white. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

I nodded, accepting his explanation even if I didn’t buy it. My emotions were too raw, too overpowering. The stress of agreeing to join the cheerleading squad, of being in this car with Peter, of just life removed the carefully constructed lid I kept on my anger and sadness. And since Peter featured prominently in both emotions, I was hanging onto my control by a spiderweb like thread. A single push would brush it aside, letting it all spew out at him. And that was something I wanted to avoid at all costs.

He hit a button on the steering wheel and the music turned off. Silence filled the car. I took a deep breath, but instead of relaxing me, it made every muscle in my body tighten. I was a spring wound so tight that I knew I was moments away from unravelling.Why, oh why, can’t it be Jason in the car with me? Or even Jarrod? Anyone but Peter. Even mom would know what to do.

The car slowed. The sound of the blinker shattered the silence, only to be outdone by the gravel under the tires as Peter pulled the car onto the shoulder. I bit my lip, refusing to ask the question that pressed against my lips. Why was he pulling over in the middle of nowhere? With my luck, this was probably the dead zone for cell phones between home and Gimli. That meant I couldn’t call anyone to come and get me. I was at Peter’s mercy. And under normal circumstances, this would be my dream. To be alone, in the middle of nowhere, with him. If he were Jason, or even Jarrod, I’d be excited. I felt safe with them. I used to feel safe with Peter.

He sat in his seat, not saying a word. Thoughts spiralled in my head. Being cornered. Unable to escape. It all closed in on me, compressing the air around me. My breathing hitched. Those bands in my chest—the ones I never seemed to be able to get rid of—squeezed tighter, keeping me from grabbing enough air. Sweat started to bead along my skin and my heart raced, thumping so heart against my chest that I thought it would jump out. Even the mental cartoon picture of that happening that crossed my mind didn’t provoke the laughter it would have under any other circumstance. I was too lost in my fight or flight response.

“Katy-bear, breathe.” Hands grasped mine, pulling my fingers straight from the clenched fists they’d been in. “You’re perfectly safe. I’m not going to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. Fuck!” The hands released me, and the car jolted as Peter threw himself against the back of his seat. The movement startled me, pulling me from the abyss I’d been looked in. Yet I couldn’t speak, too lost watching Peter rant and break down.

“Fuck. I keep screwing things up. I should have never agreed to drive her. It was stupid to think that spending time alone with her would make up for leaving her alone to be assaulted. It was all my fault. We’ll never get back our easy camaraderie.” He reached up, shoving his hands into his hair before grasping it into his fists and yanking. “She’ll never forgive me for what happened. Not that I deserve forgiveness.” His voice broke, shocking me so that I barely heard his next few words. “I should have called Jarrod. Told him that I would meet with Gunnar about some furniture for the accounting office. Anything to keep from hurting her further.”

His words, the desolation and self-recrimination in his voice did something to my heart. I-I felt bad for him, sorry for him, sorry for all the hurt he was filled with. But I couldn’t forget my anger. The anger that he seemed to know that I felt. Did that make it justified? I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter since I couldn’t stop my feelings. Feelings that were overwhelming me since I still felt remnants of panic clinging to me.

I needed space. I needed time. And I needed to only deal with one thing at a time. So, I pushed it all away, deciding to focus on whatever didn’t heed my commands. “P-Peter, wh-what happened?”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

I blinked and then I was flying, landing on Peter’s lap without hitting the steering wheel. He must have pushed his seat as far back as it could go to accomplish such a feat. Something I should have noticed, but really, I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since we’d pulled over to the side of the road. I would love to say that it was the first time I experienced this feeling of disjointedness, like things, timelines, didn’t line up correctly, but I couldn’t. I’d experienced it more times than I cared to admit. And it wasn’t all just from the waterpark incident.

When I’d been younger, after my father had been killed, I “woke” at his funeral, not having remembered anything that had happened in the days between the police showing up at our house, telling us that he’d been stabbed, and the church with all the people around dressed in black. And while none of myblackoutssince then had lasted as long or been so complete, they still happened. Likely another reason why being forced to see Shelly would be a benefit going forward even if I didn’t want to admit it.

Peter’s hands cradled my face. He wiped the tears I didn’t know had fallen using his thumbs. The sensation of his skin, wiping over mine, caressing it sent a shiver down my spine.

“I’m so sorry I left you all alone at the waterpark. What happened to you, it’s all my fault. And then I haven’t been dealing with my guilt. Instead I’ve been taking it out on you, avoiding you because I’m so ashamed.”

With Peter spilling his secrets and feelings to me, I knew that if I ever wanted us to be close again, I needed to do the same. It took all my courage but when I opened my mouth, it spilled out without any thought or planning. “I’m so angry with you.”

He sucked in a deep breath. Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. “And you should be. I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. You weren’t the one that touched me. You couldn’t be with me all the time, even I know that. Not when we’re with other students and it’s not a school trip.”

“Still I should have—” I pressed my fingers to his lips, stopping him from speaking.

“If you’d known they would have done that, would you have left me alone?” This was a question that Shelly asked me when I told her about my anger towards Peter. Without hesitation, I told her that there was no way he would have. He’d always been my biggest protector, making sure I didn’t get hurt, and if I did, bandaging up and scrapes or booboos when he was around.

---