Perfectly Damaged - Page 20/85

Charlie hops off my lap, releasing the pressure from my thighs. She sits beside me with concerned eyes. Goofy Charlie has been turned off and now caring, loving Charlie is on. “Talk to me.”

My head slams back on the headrest of the lounge chair. “I left Dr. Rosario.”

She places her hand on top of mine. “That must’ve been tough.”

“It was…is. I’m just confused by it all. I thought I would feel relieved, but I feel stuck.”

“That’s understandable. You’ve been with her for almost a year. When you adapt to someone, they become a part of your routine, a part of you. And when they’re taken away, you feel a bit lost. No matter how much you think it won’t affect your life, it does.” She sighs and turns her head away from me. I can’t make out her exact point of interest, but it seems like her gaze is lingering over Brooke’s bedroom window, the one right beside mine. “Do you think this is for the best?” she asks.

“I have no idea. But I felt suffocated. I still feel suffocated, Charlie.” I adjust to sit up. “For God’s sake, I’m in my early twenties and my parents control everything I do. It’s as if I have no say whatsoever in my life. Sure, they’re never here physically, but they manage to control every little thing anyway: school, work, therapy. For once I just wanted to feel in control. They treat me like I’m incapable of doing anything. Like I’m a pet puppy who can’t be left alone without destroying everything, so they keep me caged.”

Charlie gives my hand a tight squeeze. “I know the past few years have been difficult for you, Jenna. Especially the last eight months.”

“Don’t,” I interrupt flatly. The last thing I want to be reminded about is the last few months of my life. I’m aware of how difficult it’s been. I’ve lived through it. But I’m still here, fighting through it, managing somehow. It can’t be so bad if I’m surviving each day. It could always be worse, right? At least that’s what I tell myself. It’s the only thing that’s giving me hope.

That’s the end of the conversation. Charlie knows how much I can handle, and she’s learned throughout the years not to push my limits.

She stands. “Want to take a dip? I can’t take this heat any longer.”

“Sure.”

Sometimes I wonder how I became so lucky to have her in my life. Neither one of us can replace Brooke for the other. She meant different things to each of us and we’ll never be able to fill her shoes. But in some small way, having Charlie around helps me hold on to a piece of my sister that I’d lose otherwise. And I think it’s the same for her. She’s been there for me through and through for the past few months. It’s taken up to this very second for me to realize it. Knowing that I’ll always have her, that she’ll always be there for me, makes me grateful. Like today. I needed someone to pull me out of bed and force me back to reality, and she was there.

Charlie sits at the island in the kitchen, chatting away as I whip up scrambled eggs and bacon. She hasn’t left my side since last night. Being the good friend she is, she insisted we rent movies, eat junk food, and have a good old-fashioned girls’ night. The last time I had a night like that was about a year ago—when Brooke convinced me to watch Grease for the thousandth time. She had a massive John Travolta crush and refused to believe he acted in other movies. I smile, remembering how Brooke would jump up and dance along with the scenes.

Charlie didn’t realize it, but I needed her last night more than anything. I didn’t trust myself alone; I could’ve easily fallen back into a depressive spell. It isn’t difficult to succumb to my gloomy moods, but with Charlie around I’m able to avoid my racing thoughts for a short period of time. We stayed up all night, talking about nonsense and watching comedies. My mind was free of everything I’ve been dealing with the past few days. I even laughed. That’s something I haven’t done in a very long time.

Who needs Dr. Rosario?

“On the latest issue of Cosmopolitan: ‘100 Ways to Satisfy Your Man,’” Charlie reads, flipping through the pages of the magazine. “Now this is what I’m talking about. Ooooh…” She looks up at me, intrigued. “Did you know that a female can have several stages of an orgasm?”

I turn off the gas range on the stove and toss our breakfast onto plates. “And here I thought there was only one.” I smirk.

“Well, it’s been a long time since you…” She wiggles a finger, pointing toward my lower waist. “You know.”

She always has to go there. I glare, warning her to cut it out. “Thanks for the reminder.” She catches the plate as I slide it her way.

Charlie raises her hands, palms forward in surrender. “Look, last remark about this subject and then I’m finished.” She waits for my approval. When I sit down across from her and silently start eating, she takes it upon herself to go on. Leaning over the counter with her hand cupped around the side of her mouth, she faux-whispers, “They have magical toys to help you reach any stage you desire.”

Just as I’m about to toss a piece of toast at her, my mother steps into the room. “The last thing I want is to walk in on my daughter and her friend discussing sex toys,” Mom remarks.

Why does this keep happening to me?

With wide eyes, both Charlie and I watch as my mother gracefully passes us, opens the fridge, and removes a container filled with green juice. She never misses a morning without having her self-made, healthy energy drink. She’s wearing her workout gear and the silky strands of her red locks are tied back perfectly in a ponytail. “You girls are up early,” she points out, pouring herself a tall glass of the green tar.

“More like still awake. We haven’t slept yet,” Charlie responds.

My mother nods in acknowledgement. “Ah. That explains the dark circles under Jenna’s eyes.” I laugh at her judgmental remark. This woman can ruin my day and make my blood boil within a split second. Why? Why does she feel entitled to say anything at all?

Angrily, I clink my fork against the plate, stabbing my scrambled eggs. I refuse to allow her to bring me down. I refuse to let her words ruin my perfect morning. With my mouth full, I keep my head low and enjoy my breakfast as Charlie tries to make light of the situation.

“So, Mrs. McDaniel, I see you’re going for your daily run. Keeping the body in shape for Mr. McDee, huh?” My best friend never fails to amaze me, but at this point even my parents are aware of her bluntness.