To the Steadfast (18 page)

The girl in the corner
runs to the toilet again and begins dry heaving.

“She okay?” I ask
Butch.

Butch leans in while
picking at a scab on her pale arm. A horrible stench floats from her straw-like
hair. “You’re in the detox room. She’s coming off of Meth.”

I wrinkle my nose as
the girl walks over and begins drinking from a pitcher of Kool-Aid by the door.

“Sorry,” she mumbles to
me.

I wave my hand at her.
“Don’t worry about it.” If being next to a sick girl is the worst thing that
happens in here, I can deal.

Butch crosses her legs
and points to the toilet. “Wait until she starts shitting all over.”

My stomach churns at
the sound. “Are you detoxing too?”

“Nah, I just told them
I was so I could be in here. We’re the only ones who get Kool-Aid.” She winks
at me like it’s some sort of delicacy, and I wonder how many times she’s been
in here. “They must be full everywhere or else you’d have been put in the
back.”

“I hope so.” I think
back to when people are let out of jail for overcrowding issues. It has to be
close to midnight, but I’m wide awake. The concrete is too cold and the other
girls are too loud, but they cover the noise in my head, the thoughts that keep
replaying mine and Mischa’s conversation in the car. When what I can assume is
morning comes, an officer opens the door and calls my name.

“Dakota Lombardi. You
ready to go?” She takes me up front and gives me my stuff and hands me some papers
to sign. “Your father is up front waiting. A word of advice. You seem like a
good girl so I don’t want to see you back here.”

“What about the guy I
came in with?”

She looks at her
clipboard. “He was bailed out earlier this morning.”

I open my mouth to ask
her more questions, but she walks off.

When I emerge from the
jail into the bright sun, my father leans against his car with a scowl on his
face.

“Thanks.” 

“Took some finagling,
but I got the charges dropped and am working on getting your record expunged.
Every time you come here, you get into trouble. And that guy you were arrested
with, he’s in here for assault. I swear, Dakota. Didn’t I tell you to stay away
from him last year when I picked you up from jail? That boy is bad news.”

“I know,” I mumble.

 “Can you get through a
few more weeks? Get to school and concentrate only on school.”

I’m sick of the
lectures. I’m sick of it all. I’m sick of my parents forcing me to do what they
want. Sure, I made mistakes, but that’s part of growing up.

“I don’t want to go to
Columbia.”

His nostrils flare.
“What?”

“I don’t want to go to
medical school. I want to be a nurse like Nona.”

“I thought we were past
that.” He throws his hands in the air and opens the passenger door so I can get
in.

“Because it’s what I
want.” I climb in and press my hands to my temple.

He slams the door and
walks over to the driver’s side and gets in. “Columbia is a good school. I’m
not gonna pay for you to go throw away your future.”

“I’m not throwing
anything away. It’s a respectable career.”

“I didn’t send you to
one of the most elite boarding schools in the world for nothing. You are going
to Columbia and that is my final word.”

Pressing my lips
together, I try to think of a counter argument. “I’m an adult now. I can do
whatever I want.”

“I suppose you can pay
for everything yourself then? A car, plane rides, clothes, school, books, an
apartment. You’ve never had a job before. Do you really think you can handle
it? You can’t even handle a summer without ending up in jail. If I let you go,
there’s no telling where you’ll end up.”

His words destroy what
little confidence is left in my heart. I’m left feeling empty with no more
strength to fight. I lean my head against the window and close my eyes.

 “I’m taking you to
your mother’s house. I expect you to stay out of trouble for the remainder of
the summer and you will be interning at my office five days a week, and if I
even suspect you’re hanging out with that Cromwell boy again…”

His voice trails off as
he tries to decide on my punishment. He’d never cut me off completely, I hope.

“Let’s just say it
won’t be pretty.”

I don’t answer, but let
myself drift in and out of a light slumber.

My father keeps me busy
. Most of my duties are secretarial, so it isn’t too
bad. He doesn’t stay at his office but keeps busy with his rounds. Every time
we’re in the same room, he ignores me or looks at me like I’ve hurt him. Trying
to get back on his good side, I sit in a chair with a smile. Mischa has tried
to call, but I ignore all his attempts at an apology. When he calls, it takes
forever to get him out of my head again. My mind is in a Mischa overload that I
can’t seem to break free of. As summer ends, so does my anger at my father. After
all, he did what he promised, and my short night in jail is a thing of the
past. I’m anxious to show him how responsible I can be if I put my mind to it.
I am capable of making good choices, but when it comes to Mischa my head goes
out the window.

After one particularly
long day at the office, I come home to Mischa sitting on the front porch. I
really need to change the code to the front gate. I put the car in park and get
out. I sneak a glance in the rearview mirror and do what I can to fix my
smudged eyeliner and ponytail.

“What are you doing
here?” I demand as I walk up to him.

He  digs his hands into
his pocket. “I’ve tried to get in touch with you, but you won’t take my calls.”

“For good reason.”

“Look, I’m sorry you
got arrested. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I try to
step past him, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back.

“I’ve missed you.”

If I speak, my mouth
will betray me. It will tell him how much I’ve missed him, too. I stare at the
front door, refusing to acknowledge him.

“Did you miss me,
Cody?”

Instead, I ask him a
question that has been burning a hole in my head. “Why was there a warrant for
your arrest? Who did you assault? And why are you so afraid of being with me?”

He drops my arm. “Who
told you about that?”

“Someone at the jail.”

He runs his hands down
his face and turns away from me. “I don’t want to say.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid
you’ll hate me forever.”

“I don’t hate you. I
just don’t understand why you do this to me. You say we can’t be together, but
you seek out every opportunity to be in my life. If you want to be in my life,
let me in yours.”

His brow scrunches up,
but finally he relaxes and talks. “I got drunk and hit a guy last winter. I’ve
been arrested on a few drug charges as well…and burglary, but that was a huge
misunderstanding. The guy owed me money and I was only taking back what he owed
me.”

For the first time, I
see Mischa as he really is. All throughout middle school and high school, it
was as if he was this unobtainable beautiful god. I’d be willing to bet
anything that he’s still selling drugs. “Mischa, I don’t know if I can do this
anymore. Whatever
this
is.”

“At least let me give
you something. An apology gift.” He reaches into the pocket of his shirt before
putting both hands behind his back. When he puts both fists out in front of him
he says, “Pick a hand.”

Intrigued by his game,
I pick his right hand. When he opens it, a silver chain lays in his palm. I
reach down and pick it up. It’s not one chain, but two. Each chain has a small
pendant in the shape of half a hard. ‘My love’ is engraved across the heart.
Love.

“We were cleaning out
my dad’s stuff a few weeks ago. I found this and thought of you. I guess he
bought it for my mom a long time ago, but never gave it to her. I can’t— I
can’t be like you, but you’re the only one in my life that ever pushed me to be
better. You’re the only person who’s ever cared about what’s inside of me. ”

“It’s beautiful.” I
take one of them and put it round my neck. Mischa grabs the other and puts it
back in his pocket. I’ve never been given a gift by a guy before. It’s sweet.

“Can we go inside now?”
he asks.

I shake my head. My
father has given my strict rules not to be around Mischa. The housekeeper is
inside and she will report to my father if I bring a guy inside. He motions to
a Ducati bike parked in the driveway. I’ve never been on a bike before, but I
may as well cross it off my bucket list. He hands me a small helmet and I put
it on before climbing behind Mischa and grabbing on tight.

“What happened to your
car?”

“I sold it.”

“Why?” I ask.

 “I thought I’d take
you to my home,” he says, pretending not to hear me. We take off down the
driveway and onto the main road. Fear takes over, but it’s quickly washed away
by excitement.

“To your place?” I
laugh, but when I notice he’s not joking I grab him tighter. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, Violet’s working
so it’s safe.”

We don’t say much else
because it’s getting harder to hear.

He pulls up to the
house, which looks smaller and slightly more run down. It doesn’t look like
anyone has mowed it this summer and weeds are popping up around the flowerbeds.
Leaves from last fall still litter the corners of the yard.

“Be quiet. Mom’s home,
but I don’t want her to know you’re here.”

I pull away from him,
suspicious as to why we have to sneak around. “Why not?”

“You know how she is.
She won’t stop talking. I’d rather have you all to myself tonight.”

He leans across the
seat and presses his forehead against mine. “Me and you tonight. Like we’ve
been waiting for.”

Sneaking in the house
is easy. We’ve done it dozens of times before, mainly through the window, but
as I creep through the hall, his Mom calls out from the living room.

“Mischa, is that you?”

“Yeah.” He stills,
probably praying she doesn’t come closer.

“Is Kate with you?”

I stop. Kate? I didn’t
think they were serious, but she’s met his mom? Because of her condition,
Mischa doesn’t introduce his mom to just anyone.

“Just me, Mom!”

He tries to lead me
into the bedroom, but I keep my feet dug into the carpet. “How serious are you
and Kate?”

“I can explain. Please
come to my room so we can talk.”

Against my better judgment,
I follow him in. As soon as the door is closed, I glare at him, the
overwhelming truth coming to light.

“Tell me the truth. Are
you and Kate together or not?”

Mischa leans against
the door, head up. “Together.”

“She’s met your mom?”

He moves a little
closer, but I back away. “Don’t touch me. You’ve been using me.”

“I care about you,
Cody, but I can’t leave Kate. It isn’t that easy.”

“Why not? What’s so
special about Kate, huh? You date her, take her out, let
her
meet your
parents.”

I move closer, letting
all the rage out. He’d hurt me once before, and I was about to let him do it a
second time. “Tell me what is so special about Kate?”

Mischa grabs me by the
shoulders. I try and pull away, but his strong grip overpowers me. He forces my
face into his shoulder and his arms wrap around me. “We’ve been together for a
long time now. I can’t just drop everything because you come back into town.”

I wiggle out of his
grip. Any hope I thought I might have had fades away. “This is over.”

“It’s not over.” This
time his lips press against mine with so much force I can’t pull away.

“Get off me!” I cry
out, prying my lips away from his. “You’re never gonna love me, are you? I’m
never going to be enough for you.”

“Cody,” he murmurs
against me. “Why can’t we just enjoy this summer?”

I still feel betrayed,
although he never made me any promises.

“But it doesn’t have to
be like that,” I insist. Here I am, taking up for him once again, but I believe
in him. I know he can do so much more.

“You expect too much
from me. Kate expects nothing. She works a nine-to-five job and won’t ever be
anything more. What are you going to school for?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I
turn away from him, but he pulls my arm so I’m facing him again.

“How far away is your
school? Who is your father? Who is my father?”

“I don’t care about any
of that!” I cry out. “I’d give up school for you.”

His eyes are glazed
over as he gets right up in my face. “I don’t want you to give up yourself or
your dreams,
especially
not for me.”

That’s when I realize
it’s not about me, it’s about him. It’s about him not wanting me. It’s about
him always feeling inferior to me.

“You lazy bastard. You
gave up on us before we even had a chance.” I walk from the room, making sure
to slam the door behind me. I turn to see Violet in the hallway, obviously
eavesdropping.

“Cody,” she says.

“Violet.”

There’s coldness in her
eyes I’ve never seen before. She looks behind me at the door. “What’s going on with
you and Mischa? Wait, forget I asked. I don’t want to know.”

“I’m sorry, Violet.”

She tugs at the visor
in her hand. She must have just gotten off from work. Ice cream is splattered
all over the front of her shirt. Violet was never a working girl, and seeing
her so vulnerable right now makes me think that maybe I’d misjudged her.

 “I wanted to tell you
about this.” She motions to her uniform. “I guess I was embarrassed.”

“No,” I say quickly. “I
think it’s great you’ve got a job.”

“What do you know? You’ve
never worked a day in your life.” There’s that usual Violet spitfire.

“Hey, I work hard at
different things.”

“That’s right. Playing
sports, perfecting your transcripts for that perfect school.” She pauses for a
second. “Sleeping with my brother.”  She opens the door to her bedroom and I
follow after her.

“Wait a minute! Don’t
you think you’re overreacting about this thing with Mischa? You aren’t perfect
either.”

“We were supposed to be
friends.” She takes a deep breath. “Things are never going to be the same, are
they?”

This night is filled
with enough pain, but I know in my heart we can’t get back to where we were.

“No, I don’t think so.
Sometimes people grow apart.”

She gives a dry laugh. “I
was afraid of that. I used to think you were different. I used to see Cody
Lombardi at school and think you had it all, but you are just like everyone
else. In love with Mischa and willing to use me to get closer to him.”

“It wasn’t like that!”

Violet’s door swings
open and her mom stumbles in, her brown hair in her eyes.

“What in the hell is
going on in here, you little idiots?” she yells. She falls against the dresser
and points at Violet. “You’re making too much damn noise, and you’re gonna wake
the baby.”

“Baby?” I whisper.
Whose baby? Mischa? Violet? Their mom?

Violet pulls some clean
clothes out of her closet, before turning to her mother and yelling. “Get the
fuck out of here, Mom! Go!”

Mischa steps in behind
his Mom with an unopened bottle of vodka. “Here, Mom. Go lie down.” He shoves
it against her chest.

She grabs the bottle
and curls it against her chest like a baby. She smiles at her eldest son.
“Thanks, boy.” Her words are slurred and she pats his face as she leaves the room.
Mischa doesn’t look at her; his eyes stay focused on me.

“Will somebody please
explain what’s going on here,” I demand. The word baby is still resonating
through my brain.

“My mom had a baby a
few months ago,” Violet explains. “My dad is in jail. My mom is a crazy drunk.
I work my butt off after school so we can keep the house. So, yes. We are
officially white trash. Just so you know.”

Things were never
perfect with Violet’s family, but I understand a part of why she’s mad at me
now. I wasn’t here during the worst time of her life.

“You’re not white
trash.”

Mischa steps in front
of his sister. “But we are, Cody. We’re not the same and no amount of
pretending is gonna change that.” His face darkens into something unimaginable
and suddenly I just don’t have the strength to defend him anymore.  It hurt
when I left Violet behind, but we were never all that close. Our friendship was
all fun and games, full of hot guys and parties. It
should
be easy to
leave the Cromwells alone, but it’s hard work.