“Eleven thirty.”
It was earlier than I thought. That meant I was only at the party for a little over an hour. It seemed so much longer. But now that I looked back at it, I didn’t really do much. Evan and I didn’t have a real conversation the whole time we were there. I was too busy trying to avoid being grappled by drunken idiots.
I got ready for bed and scrubbed at the remaining make-up that the rain hadn’t already washed away. If I were caught wearing makeup, I would probably need it to hide what Carol would do to me if she saw any traces of it.
Last year, Sara had given me a few samples of lipsticks she didn’t want. I tried them on, but ended up wiping the colors off with a tissue. When I returned from practice that evening, Carol confronted me with the tissues removed from the bathroom trash with accusations that I was trying to sneak around wearing make-up behind her back after she had already told me it wasn’t allowed. She called me a whore and other derogatory names as she squeezed my cheeks together so tightly in her hand that my teeth ground into the soft tissue until they bled.
So I’d rather have raw skin from scrubbing off the evidence than to face a second round over the make-up issue.
As we lay in the dark, Sara insisted, “You have to tell me what happened with you and Evan tonight.”
II had hoped that Sara would be so lost in her night with Jason that she'd forget all about me, and we could avoid this conversation. No such luck.
I stared into the darkness above me, not certain where to begin.
“I talked to him,” I confessed. I was quiet for a moment.
“Please don’t make me drag this out of you.”
“I found out he’s from San Francisco and that he may move back if he doesn’t like it here.” I added, “I can only hope.”
“What do you mean?” She sounded confused. “It looked like you guys really connected from where I was sitting - you know, his almost kissing you.” My cheeks warmed at the mention of the close proximity of his face to mine when we said good night.
“Sara, I can’t do this,” my voice grew stronger. “I barely talked to him. He spent most of the night rescuing me from drunken hormonal gorillas. It was pretty pathetic.
“I don’t want to like him. I don’t want there to be anymore moments where he may kiss me. I need to stay away from him.”
“I am so confused,” Sara confessed. “I thought we had a plan. And who was hitting on you? Now I feel bad that I wasn’t there.”
“Don’t,” I said with an edge to my voice. “That’s just it. I don’t want to be protected or looked after. I should be so much stronger than to need you or Evan Mathews to stand up for me. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look at him on Monday.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Sara said quietly. I heard the hurt in her voice. “I know you don’t want me protecting you, you’ve made that clear way before tonight. But I feel bad because I knew how hard tonight was going to be for you, and from the sounds of it, it was pretty horrible. I should’ve been there as your friend, that’s all.”
“But it shouldn’t be horrible, Sara. It was just a stupid party, and I freaked. I could barely function.” I sighed in frustration. I was glad it was dark so she couldn’t see the tears welling in my eyes. I clenched my jaw and swallowed the lump in my throat. I took a calming breath to be rid of the dizzying emotion, while wiping my cheeks dry. Safe again, I turned away from Sara.
“I’m sorry, Sara,” I said softly. “It’s been a long day, and I’m being ridiculous. We have to get up early so I can get home to do my chores. Let’s just get some sleep, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
I was afraid that sleep wouldn’t come easily, but with all that my psyche had fought throughout the day, I was exhausted.
7. Repercussions
It took me a few blinks to remember where I was when I woke up in the queen bed, with the sunlight beaming behind the shaded skylights. I rolled over to find Sara in the bed across from me, still asleep with the down comforter pulled up around her. She groaned as the alarm beeped to wake us so that I could get home in time to do my weekend chores.
She grumbled, flopping her hand down on the snooze button. She revealed her blue eyes reluctantly, peering over at me with her head still on her pillow. “Hey.”
“Sorry you have to get up so early,” I offered, with my head propped up by my elbow.
“I know how it is,” she replied with stretched arms above her head. “Em, I’m really sorry I bailed on you last night.”
I shrugged, not wanting to think about it. “It’s not like I’ll be going to another party any time soon.”
“True. So, Evan, huh? This is really happening, isn’t it?” Sara ran her fingers through her long hair as she sat up in the bed, propping a pillow behind her.
“Not really,” I contradicted. “I mean, I’m talking to him, or was. Who knows what he’ll think of me after last night.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s still interested. Please don’t give up on him. I don’t know all that happened last night, but I still think he’s good for you. Give him a chance. Try to be friends, or at least use him as an emotional punching bag. He seems to be able to handle the backlashes that you can’t unleash on anyone else.” She said it like being reprimanded by me was a privilege. She studied my face with a soft smile to make sure I understood.
I returned a half smile, trying to digest her words.
Knowing I wasn’t going to say anything, she flipped back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. “Well let’s get you back to hell before the devil realizes you’re not home.” It would have been funny, except that it was too close to the truth for me to laugh.
When I walked in the back door, the house was strangely quiet. With George’s truck missing from the driveway, I guessed he and the kids were getting the Saturday morning donuts and coffee. That meant she was here, somewhere - my stomach dropped. I focused on getting to my room without having to see her.
Just outside my door, I was abruptly stopped in my tracks with a sharp pain shrieking through my head. I winced as her claw dug deeper into the fistful of my hair, tugging my head back so that my neck snapped awkwardly, forced to face the ceiling. She hissed in my ear, “Did you think I wouldn’t find out that you went out last night? What did you do, screw the entire football team?”
With an unexpected amount of force, she thrust my head forward without giving me a second to resist. The front of my skull collided with the doorframe. A thunderous bolt shot through my head as the hall blurred around me. Black dots filled my eyes as I attempted to focus. Before I could find center, her vise grip tore the hair from my scalp and drove my head into the hard wood again. The corner of the frame connected with the left side of my forehead. The stinging burn above my eye gave way to a flow of warmth that ran down my cheek.
“I regret every second you’re in my house,” Carol growled with contempt. “You’re a worthless pathetic tramp, and if it wasn’t for your uncle, I would have shut the door in your face when your drunken mother abandoned you. It says a lot when she can’t even stand you.” I slid down the wall, collapsing on the floor with my bags by my side. Something landed on my knees. I made out my navy blue soccer jersey from Thursday’s game crumpled on my lap.
“Clean yourself up before they see you, and get rid of the stench in the basement. You’d better be done with your chores and out of my sight by the time I get back from grocery shopping,” she threatened before disappearing.
I heard the truck pull into the driveway and the doors closing, followed by the excited voices nearing the back door. I didn’t want them to see me either, so I clumsily tossed my bags through the open door of my room and pushed myself to my feet. I stumbled into the bathroom with the support of the wall, as I heard Leyla announce, “Mom, we have donuts!”
I pressed the shirt against the left side of my head, trying to stop the bleeding as the cut pulsed under my hand. My head pounded as I tried to regain control of my balance. The sensation that I was about to lose consciousness seized me. I gripped the sink, fighting to focus, as I took deep even breaths. A minute passed before I was able to stand up straight. The dizziness subsided but the claw of pain dug into my head.
I slowly let up pressure. The side of my face was covered with blood that ran down my neck, seeping into the collar of my turtleneck. I couldn’t quite tell where the opening was. I took a few tissues and exchanged them with the shirt so I could run the shirt under cold water.
I wiped the drying blood from my face with the damp jersey and revealed the small incision above my left eyebrow. It wasn’t very big, but it didn’t want to stop bleeding. I applied more pressure with the shirt as I searched in the medicine cabinet for bandages. I pulled out two butterfly bandages and applied them to the gash, pulling the sides together so it could heal - hopefully leaving a minimal scar.
In the center of my forehead, along my hair line, was a large lump that was already turning purple. I couldn’t bring myself to touch it – the unwavering pain was making my eyes water. I knew I needed to put ice on it but couldn’t figure out how to do that without being seen.
I leaned against the wall across from the mirror and closed my eyes. I couldn’t hold back the tears that rolled down my cheeks. I struggled to maintain a steady breath so I wouldn’t cave in to the full out cry that the lump in my throat yearned for. The images of what happened flashed through my head. I didn’t hear her come up behind me. She was obviously waiting for me.
As much I tried to be invisible, she was inescapable and her wrath was crushing. I wanted nothing more than to destroy her as I stared into the mirror at my seeping eyes, aglow with fury.
I looked down at the bloody jersey in my hand. Her blitz attack had nothing to do with the football game, or my dirty laundry; it had everything to do with me. I knew all I had to do was make one phone call, or walk into the school psychologist’s office and utter one sentence, and this would all be over.
That’s when I heard the squeal of laughter in the kitchen from Leyla, accompanied by a chuckle from Jack as she said something to make them laugh. It would be over for them too, but in a way that would damage them forever. I couldn’t ruin their lives. Carol and George truly loved them, and I wouldn’t take them from their parents. I swallowed hard, determined to compose myself, but the tears refused to stop.
I opened the cabinets under the sink and pulled out the cleaning supplies; with my lips quivering and hands shaking, I scrubbed the tub, swallowing against the sobs. The built up pressure from keeping the cries contained infuriated the pain in my head. My whole body ached.
I was back to my numb, emotionless state by the time I finished cleaning the sink. I blankly stared at the water running down the drain, rinsing away the chemicals and blood. My raging thoughts were quiet.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” I heard Carol announce, closing the door behind her. The kids were watching TV in the living room. I couldn’t hear George.