Dealing With It (Two Short Stories) (2 page)

I actually wanted to go back to sleep; I was
tired. So. Very. Tired. I felt the aches and pain taking over my
body, the constant throbbing at the left side of my head that just
wouldn’t go away. But at least lying in the comfort of my bed would
lessen the pain, if only a little.

And I didn’t feel like seeing Ian, a
constant reminder of the past, looking at me with that
oh-so-similar face of his. Or my two best friends, Diane and Cara,
who I knew would do everything to try and make me smile again.

I wanted to crawl into my bed, throw the
covers over my head, and sleep for the next ten years. Maybe then
I’d finally feel better.

“I don’t care.”

It was the only thing I had said in a really
long time. I knew, because I saw the stupefied look overtake my
mother’s face at my voice, however hoarse and unused it
sounded.

I looked up again and looked directly into
my mother’s eyes, unsmiling, as I said it again, with more
emphasize. “I. Don’t. Care.”

And it was true: I didn’t care at all.

Because … what
was the point in that?

ACCEPTANCE

MANY MONTHS HAD passed since I last saw his
face.

I stood in front of his gravesite holding a
single flower. It wasn’t a red rose, which one would have
expected—no, Jesse would have hated that typical crap. Instead I
held a tulip, cream in color. The petals were soft to the touch as
I let it casually caress my left cheek. I heard somewhere that the
color meant that I’d love him forever.

And I would—despite him being gone—because
our love was eternal.

It was the first time I’d visited since his
funeral. Back then it had been cold—dreary. I remembered that day
in only black and white with shades of gray in between. The harsh
wind had made a bitter enclosure of my pain, not giving anyone the
opportunity to comfort me as I created that wall and went inside
myself.

Now the season had changed, leaving a warm
breeze in the air as the sun beat down on my skin, my clothes
ruffling against the wind. I didn’t wear black because I was no
longer in mourning—black was never really my color anyway.

I wore a simple summer dress: green, of
course.

I was finally starting to feel like more
than just a shadow of my former self. Breathing was easier. And
although my heart still ached, it wasn’t as painful. I wasn’t yet
able to let him go completely but I knew in the grand scheme of
things that he was in a better place.

I’d even called Ian a few days ago. We were
going to meet for coffee as soon as I left Jesse’s grave. I was
finally ready to see him, letting go of the resentment that I had
of him surviving the car accident while Jesse hadn’t. It would be a
bittersweet occasion—nice to see his face, a wonderful reminder of
my love. But it would be sad at the same time, knowing that it
could never be Jesse.

And who knew what that conversation would be
like.

Awkward.

Painful.

Heartbreaking.

But we were forever linked by a life that
was cut too short. And I knew Jesse wouldn’t want me harboring ill
feelings toward his brother. I decided I would do all the things
Jesse wanted to do but could no longer.

For example, I would learn how to
rollerblade—it was something Jesse always wanted to do but was
afraid to. I’d get a tattoo of the Chinese symbol for strength,
which he had talked on and on about getting but never did. I would
learn to speak French, as he felt it was a disservice to not know
your country’s second language.

All that I would do in due time.

Right after I saw Ian, I was going straight
to the airport, heading west. I was looking forward to seeing the
Pacific Ocean, finally getting a look at its clear blue waters.

I smiled at the thought as I laid the tulip
in front of the grave, my eyes grazing over his name engraved into
the tombstone.

And of course, Jesse always did want to go
there.

THE END

3:00 A.M.

MY SCREAMED PIERCED the silence and I was
forcefully ripped away from sleep.

Sitting up in bed, I clutched my chest,
feeling the hammering of my heart against my palm. I was unable to
control my breath, almost panting in distress. Although I no longer
made a sound, a silent cry still echoed in my head as I stared off
into the darkness.

Not again
, I thought, a tear streaming
down my face.

The door to my bedroom suddenly swung open
and a large body stood at the threshold, dark and menacing. Pure
fear ran through me and I opened my mouth to scream again, but it
was cut short; the noise caught in my throat and the lights
suddenly flickered on. Relief washed over me and I blinked at the
brightness, staring at the person in front of me.

My brother.

Robby, dressed in pajama pants and a light
t-shirt, rushed to my side, alarmed by my panic, and grabbed me by
both shoulders. “What’s wrong, Jenna? Are you okay?”

I swallowed hard and slowly removed Robby’s
hands from my shoulders, inching myself away from his grasp, and
rested my back against my headboard, holding myself tightly. Trying
to shake away the immense feeling of terror and the vivid images
from my nightmare, I gave him a quick nod and wiped at the wetness
still on my face. “I’m fine, Robby—it was just a dream.”

I finally looked back at him, kneeling by
the side of my bed. His face displayed concern and doubt. “Jenna,
you’ve been having these dreams for the past few weeks; waking up
every night, screaming. What’s really going on here?”

“Nothing’s going on,” I replied, bringing my
knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, looking
everywhere but at his face. I had always been very bad at lying. I
tried putting on a front. “I’ve just been stressed lately. No
biggie.”

He had no idea how much I really needed him
to leave my room before I completely broke down. I was squeezing my
thighs so tightly together that I thought I would break something.
The feeling of panic started to rise within my chest once more by
his close proximity. I loved Robby, I really did, but he had to
go.

I had to do something before he found
out.

“So you’ve been saying,” he retorted in
disbelief, hurt on his face. “But I know there’s more going on. You
know you can always talk to me.”

My heart still pounded almost painfully
against my chest as I finally studied my older brother. He looked
so similar to me with his blond hair and brown eyes that I couldn’t
help but feel immense affection for him. He had always been there
for me, took care of me when no one else would. With both our
parents gone, it was just he and I. I really hated lying to him now
but it was the only way.

So I did the only thing I could think of to
wipe the worry from his face—shown by the wrinkles at the corner of
his eyes, the furrows above his brows and his slight frown.

I smiled.

That was what I did—smiled through the tears
that threatened to spill.

Because that
was the way it had to be. No one—not Robby or
anyone
—would
know if I just smiled.

12:15 P.M.

THE SLAM OF the locker shutting next to me
startled me and I flinched, my heart almost jumping up my
throat.

God, I hate loud noises.

“Whoa, there.”

I looked up to see my two best friends,
Henry and Bethany looking over at me in concern. My eyes went from
dark-haired Bethany then to red-headed Henry, who had spoken.

“Hey, guys,” I said smoothly as I tried to
make sure my voice didn’t sound too shaky.

“Hey yourself,” Henry replied, and casually
swung an arm over my shoulder. I shied away again from his touch
and he looked at me with confusion, reluctantly bringing his lanky
arm back down to his side.

Bethany narrowed deep brown eyes at me,
glancing at Henry before settling back on me, a small frown
tingeing her lips. “What’s got you all jumpy today, Jenna?”

I gave a quick laugh, then punched them both
on the arm, yanking on Bethany’s long black hair and ruffling
Henry’s in the process. “Nothing, I swear. I watched this horror
movie last night all by myself and I’m still feeling the
effects.”

“You watched a horror movie and failed to
let me know?” Henry looked downright insulted and he pointed to
himself. “Hello? Horror movie fanatic here.”

I shook my head at his theatrics and slammed
my locker shut then walked with the pair toward the cafeteria. As
we found seats, we all started talking about mundane things and I
started to feel back to normal.

Finally.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, I was
sorely disappointed. As I sat looking at my friends and their
animated faces, I failed to notice that hands were wrapping around
my waist and a face was settling next to mine.

Before I could stop myself, a scream erupted
from me, piercing the large room. All the noise instantly hushed as
many pairs of eyes stared on at me in shock.

My friends were equally surprised,
especially when I stood up from my seat and moved away from the
body that was so near. Eyes wild, I looked around but saw nothing
except the horrible images that haunted my dreams every night; I
knew that I would pass out from it all any minute.

So I did the only thing I could think
of.

I bolted.

I ran far away until I was outside of the
school building and finally able to breathe in the fresh air, the
breeze cool over my skin. I sunk to my knees on the ground, my
shaking hands grasping strands of grass, as if to anchor myself, as
I took steady breaths in and out.

I didn’t even realize in my sudden departure
that I had left an equally stunned boy frozen in shock. I hadn’t
noticed the sad looks on Bethany’s and Henry’s faces as they tried
to figure out what was wrong, trying to comfort the boy. Because
really, there was only one important thought on my mind.

At least now I
can breathe.

2:00 P.M.

I TRIED IGNORING the stares that came from
every direction as I walked by myself down the hallway, clutching
my books tightly to my chest. I felt my body want to cave into
itself and disappear—if only to avoid the curious stares. I
desperately wished to be on a tropical island by myself, or someone
else altogether.

As the bell rang signifying the start of the
last period, I had just reached the door to my classroom so I
rushed in and immediately sat in the corner in the back of the
room, away from prying eyes.

Although that didn’t stop the turning
heads.

I ignored the looks and whispers from
Bethany and Henry as they both tried to get my attention. I ignored
the look of the boy with the sad-looking eyes and focused at the
front of the class.

Mr. Hyatt was our teacher for Health, and
all week long we had guest speakers rambling about various topics.
Honestly, I felt Mr. Hyatt did this just so he could weasel himself
out of teaching and instead lounge on the chair, play whatever game
he had on his laptop.

Today’s guest speaker was a fairly
young-looking woman in her mid-twenties with curly dark brown hair,
striking gray eyes, and olive skin. She seemed really approachable
and cheerful but there was an air of seriousness coming off her. As
her eyes scanned the room, I swore they settled on me for a moment
before moving on. My heart practically stopped beating as she
caught my gaze and only started up again when she took her focus
from me. There was such an immense sadness deep within the depths
of her eyes—something I was all too familiar with.

I saw that very look whenever I stood in
front of the mirror.

“Class,” Mr. Hyatt began in his loud,
boisterous voice, glancing around the room, trying to quiet the
rowdy ones down. Inclining back on his chair, he pointed a finger
over at the brown-haired woman. “This here is Ms. Sinclair. She is
from The Saving Grace Center.”

My skin prickled slightly at the mention of
The Saving Grace Center.

That was the place where....

“Ms. Sinclair is going to talk to us today
about abuse.”

My jaw clenched tightly at the word and I
clutched the sides of my table but no one seemed to notice. Ms.
Sinclair looked around the class once more and smiled widely, her
whole face lighting up. “Hi, my name’s Grace Sinclair—you can just
call me Grace. As many of you probably know, The Saving Grace
Center is a place where people can go to if they need help. If
they’ve been abused in any way, we try to provide resources free of
charge. Whether that’s through counseling, trying to get out of a
dangerous situation, or just general support, we are there to help
in any way so people have a place to turn.”

After the introduction, her voice got
softer, more somber. “I created The Saving Grace Center five years
ago after I was physically abused myself for a period of time.
After the incident, I felt that creating the center was just
something I had to do. You might not know this but there are many
different types of abuse. Not only physically, but
mentally....”

I sat there transfixed, now biting the
inside of my lip, hanging onto every word. After ten minutes, I
couldn’t take it anymore, I felt my mind would explode. I picked up
my things then stood up and walked out of class, ignoring both the
calls from Mr. Hyatt to return and the chatter of the class at my
disturbance.

I seemed to be causing a lot of scenes
lately.

When I was finally standing outside in the
empty halls, I sighed and dropped my belongings to the ground,
sliding down against the locker opposite my class. Drawing my knees
up to my chest, I hugged myself tightly as tears started to fall
down my cheeks and I bent my head down in sadness.