Page 16 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
After I put his down, I circled back around for mine.
“Changed your mind?”
“Yup.” The cap popped off with a satisfying plonk. “I need to relax,” I admitted.
“Why?” He suddenly looked wary of his own presence.
“All that stuff with my father last night brought me to a bad place.”
He paused with his beer halfway to his lips. “You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you, right?”
“I know. Grief is weird. I’m not sure I ever fully processed it.” I took a swig and started to tear at the label on the bottle. “You know, after he got out of prison, I had to start dropping classes. I was working part time at The Magical Beans, weekends mostly, but he came out just a shell of a person. I tried to take him to the doctor, museum, to the park, hell, even grocery shopping but he didn’t want to go. He’d just give me a little grimace and shake his head. I know he could talk, but it was just few and far between, usually at random. All I could do was either work, or stay at home taking care of him. He was shattered. Didn’t say much most days, slept too much. I put up cameras at the house to keep track of him. I’d had to force him to eat and shower, like leading him into the bathroom and turning on the spigot.”
Tears started to well up. He got up to grab the nearest blotting implement, a paper towel, which I took gratefully.
“Whatever you think of me now, which I’m not sure I want to know, just think back to how often I was at your house whenwe were younger and how often I said I wished your dad was my own. I loved him too, Cora.” What passed for sorrow for him was etched all over his face.
“I know! I was drowning. I couldn’t bail you out. I couldn’t even bail me out.”
“Why didn’t you ask for help?” he pleaded. “I could have done something.”
“I couldn’t. You weren’t there! Not after everything that happened.”
“What do you mean?” He had a serious gaze on.
“In school? How could you forget?” The sadness turned to livid anger, redness flushing through my light blue skin.
“Cor, I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about. The thing at the lake?”
“The thing at the lake was the last nail in the coffin.” I put down my empty beer. “Did you honestly not know your friends were torturing me?”
Damien’s light green skin paled more. “I’m sorry, what?”
My incredulity was rising. “Freshman year was our last year as real friends. Sophomore year was bad, junior and senior year, I almost dropped out.”
My hysteria was rising. “How did you not know?”
He was completely pale and in total shock. I realized that it was genuine. He didn’t know. But I couldn’t do anything about that now. I had to protect me.
“I think you should go now. I’ll text you Thursday.”
He opened his mouth and closed it, nodded and made haste toward my door. I closed it and locked it after with tears streaming down my face.
I’meighteen and I’ll be graduating soon. I’m looking at Damien. He grew tall like his father, put on pounds of muscle. He lookslike a dream for any girl. Not me though. Have to let that crush on him die. He’s giving hugs and handshakes, wrapping up the last few days. I hope to see him in the future. If he left some people behind, I wouldn’t hate it, either.
CHAPTER 5
Wednesday came and went. I occupied myself with the grout on my tiles, trying to forget cold words from strangers and a mentally absent father. I did what I could to avoid remembering the last few years. I had missed Damien those years badly. He had been my sun all that time, till I eventually got burned. Eventually that turned to hatred and then resentment. It was easiest that way.
We’re fourteen.It wasn’t the greatest of days. I got my period a few classes ago and now, before we go home, I just need to tackle gym class. I’m not the worst here; some choose to be on the sidelines for failing grades. I’ll at least play. They’re playing soccer and keep rotating our positions. Damien’s on the other team, his passion for sports evident as he’s beaming, streaking up and down the grass. His team is doing admirably; mine, not so much. With a whistle blow I grimaced and got moved into the goal. Another whistle resumes gameplay. He goes sliding and jumping around the other kids who are clear that this was just high school gym. He slows a bit as he spots me in the large goal, and takes off again. He suddenly passes to a teammate who kicksit, bouncing off a goal post. I throw it back into play. He passes by with a wink.
Coming out of the showers toward the buses I playfully poke him in the chest.
“You gave up that goal. Don’t think I didn’t see you.”
He dropped his arm around my shoulders. “Maybe I was just being selfless and passing to a teammate. Or maybe I didn’t want to score on my best friend.”
I snorted. That would be like him.
