Chapter Two: (part one)
Roz’s house was one of those imposing beasts of a ‘suburban’ home. Roughly carved gray stones climbed two stories up to a round miniature tower. The entire residence looked like an English castle reduced in size twenty times.
We crossed the lawn to the great double doors which were the entrance, and without knocking Sasha pushed her way in, with us following.
Roz’s mom was sitting on the couch in the living room, which managed to be both welcoming and frightening at the same time, as if Anita hadn’t decided to go with nineteenth century cold, or family comfort. The brown leather couch was L shaped and curved around an antique table with carved claw feet. The couch faced a modest television, but stood next to a fireplace large enough for all of us to stand in comfortably.
Anita put her work down and stood up when we entered the room, warming up the room with one of the most genuine smiles a person could have.
“Girls!” she said, wrapping us in hugs like she didn’t see us close to every day. After my hug, she looked down at me, her intelligent eyes searching my face.
She looked back and forth between me and Charlie, her forehead wrinkled with thought.
“What’s happened?” she asked. We all followed her and sat on the couch with Charlie and me closest to her. We told her everything.
For Charlie that was everything about losing her job, her only way to pay for college and out of a life her family had destined to her. About how hard it had been for her to work up to what she was being paid, and worry’s about not finding a replacement.
I told her about John. About our breakup and about the things he tried to push on me. Things I wouldn’t even tell my actual mother. Sasha, Roz, and Charlie listened, because some of this was even news to them. Something I hadn’t wanted to voice because I would rather it disappeared in the wind. I only held back those delicate wings that flicked and fluttered low in my stomach as an almost constant buzz.
“Arion, don’t you ever let a guy make you believe that you should do whatever they ask. You are a person yourself, not a slave to their desires,” Anita said with more anger than I’d expected. More anger than even I had.
But was I even angry all? I wasn’t sure. I knew that I should have felt angry, even furious at the circumstances. I should have felt sad and lost, but I felt none of those things. None of those tried and true feelings, easily forgotten with a pile of burned memories or a pint of chocolate ice cream. Instead I felt numb, and underneath that cool nothing, there was fear.
“Arion?” Anita was staring at me sideways. I looked around the room and saw confusion and worry in four sets of eyes. Apparently I’d missed something.
“What, sorry?”
“I asked if you were okay, honey,” Anita said, smoothing her hand down my back in the motherly way that brought unexpected tears to my eyes. In two deep breaths the tears were gone. I was fine. I just had to keep breathing.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. It was the most diplomatic thing I could think of.
None of them looked convinced, even after I flashed a forced smile. They saw right through it, as good friends often did. Normally that would be a comforting thought, but now…now I was counting on the slight chance that their all-seeing eyes would miss the crucial detail that would bring down the house of cards and reveal the temperamental game I was playing.
Anita patted my back and I took an extra deep breath in response. “It seems we could use some cheering up all around,” she said, glancing at each of us in turn. Our somber expressions seemed only to further prove her hypothesis, because a minute later she was standing at the door with keys in one hand and her purse over the other shoulder.
“I’ll be back soon,” she promised us. “Why don’t you watch a movie?”
Roz and Sasha beamed at the mention of movies. To them it brought back the childhood memories of movie nights, popcorn, and falling asleep in safe arms. That kind of memory which seemed to give an invisible strength to urge us all on through the rest of our lives.
The two of them browsed through possible choices, studying each one in turn, comparing them, and moving onto the next. It was a slow and tedious process, one which neither Charlie nor I seemed to have the energy or the patience for.
We cuddled up together, wrapping our arms around each other like lifelines. To each of us, the shared comfort held different meaning. One as a reassurance, and the other as a form of closeness thought lost.
Just as Roz and Sasha finally decided on a movie- a romantic comedy- Anita walked through the door bearing bags of goodness. Anita set the bags down on another section of the couch and started to ruffle through them.
“I got something for all of you,” she announced. She held up skittles, and Sasha squealed, jumping up in her seat in such a way that the entire blanket covering us started to fall.
Anita tossed her the skittles, which she opened and began devouring with the same enthusiasm she had shown while picking a movie.
Next Anita pulled out a bag of fun-sized Reeses, which made Charlie smile. She took them without a word and opened the bag. There was a tin of chocolate frosting for me and cookie dough for Roz. Along with that there were glass bottles of cream soda with neon bendy straws poking out the small top.
We shared everything, making amazing concoctions like Reeses dipped in frosting and washed down with the soda, and some not so good combinations like skittles and cookie dough covered in frosting.
The movie took us all to that place of imagination and hope, deep-set in childhood by Disney movies and ‘G’ rated TV. That place where a helplessly beautiful girl who will never find love meets the unexpected man of her dreams. A man whom at first she hates, one who she is not supposed to love. It was the kind of movie that chased away all dark thoughts of life alone, and gave the child within a new hope. The kind of movie that chased away the butterflies, if only for a little while.
Somewhere in the movie we fell asleep, bags of candy still in our laps, and soda balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa. All I knew is that one minute I was warm and content, and the next I was dreaming.
We were driving through a strange town, and we were lost. John’s jeep traveled the streets easily as we flew through red lights and nearly ran people over. Something about him was rushed, scared. A sweat was forming on his brow.
“Slow down!” I screamed as a lamp post scraped against the side of the car, tilting it in a stomach churning kind of way.
He didn’t slow down, and he didn’t answer me.
“John! What are you doing?” We turned so sharply that I was nearly thrown out of the car. It was luck of the dream that kept me tight in the seat.
“I’m saving you,” he said, driving faster yet as we flew onto the freeway.
“From what?” I asked. “Nobody’s following us!”
Then it started. With a faint flutter as blood rushed to my chest, compressing it. My airways constricted and I couldn’t breathe, making my heart thud with each attempt to beat. We were going too fast. He was going to kill me.
“I have to save you. Save you.”
He repeated the words, again and again. Each time they got louder and more rushed, more desperate. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell John that he wasn’t saving me, he was killing me. That the wings inside were ripping and tearing and there would soon be nothing left to save. I couldn’t tell him, and I couldn’t scream as he drove into the center divider. I couldn’t cry as the sirens wailed and the world went black. And then the only thing left was a screaming I wasn’t sure was mine.
So here goes.