*****************
A New Perspective Pt. 2
It's been five years since I was raped, and while the feeling of what happened will never truly leave me, I feel like I've come a hell of a long way. I'm strong now, independent, more than I ever was, even before it happened. I can hold my head high when I walk down the street, and fear...well, I can control my fears a lot better than before too. My mom is really proud of me. In the beginning, she never thought I'd be able to move on…have a life, have a career. I was too weak then I guess…I didn't want to accept the truth and move on. I just wanted to shut myself away, dwell on it…and feel sorry for myself. Therapy helped me a lot, when I was finally forced to accept that I needed to go. My shrink was great, made me realize that there was a whole world out there I was missing out on. Two years of counseling behind me, I was finally able to get back to reality. I enrolled myself in school again, and I started living the life I was meant to. Of course I knew I'd never be the same girl I was before. I'd never laugh as much, never trust people or want to make new friends. I'd be pretty cold…pretty much a bitch, but I didn't care what other people were going to think of me when I walked down the street.
I knew who I was, what I'd overcome, and that was all that really mattered to me.
I'd originally gone to school for nursing; made all my friends and family proud. I knew I'd be good at it then. That was the thing with me….confidence. If it couldn't be done, I did it. If it was too hard, I'd make it look too easy. Valedictorian of my high school class…homecoming queen, most popular girl in school…that was me. And well, having a semi famous photographer for a mother didn't hurt either. Life seemed all too perfect then, and I guess I was too caught up in it to stop and think that something could go wrong. But why should I have? I was happy with life, unlike most of my classmates. I had set plans…goals for the rest of my life. People would be proud of me…I would be proud of me…
And then I found out how the world really worked.
Mrs. Donnabora was a sweet old lady who lived in the most southern part of San Francisco. I'd really been in a bind when I'd seen her ad in the Post, as I'd just started going back to school and hadn't had a chance to find work anyplace. I'd been on a few interviews of course, but nobody seemed to want to give me a chance. They told me I didn't have enough experience in the field, and of course I knew that…but it wasn't like I could go and tell them why it was that I hadn't done any kind of aid work in two years. My mom was completely fine with the fact that I wasn't working of course. She kept telling me it was good for me to just focus on school and not worry about anything else…that I needed to just 'get back in control of things.' But I'd never been one to rely on people for help. Even when the rape initially happened, I hadn't asked anybody for their help….not even that night. It…it happened and I'd gotten out, gotten away, and gotten back home on my own. Looking back now I know it was stupid. I…I wish I'd asked my friends to help me, but I don't know. It's the weirdest thing, rape. It sort of…sucks you down this dark hole, where nobody can see you; and it almost….feels good that nobody can see you. You don't want to be seen. You're dirty, you're horrible…you're disgusting. You think they can see it on you, inside of you. You think….
You think it's your fault.
It had been early morning when I'd seen the ad in the paper. I'd been buried underneath my comforter, hiding. Hiding from what…I don't even know. I was still pretty bad then, even with all of that therapy behind me. I hated being alone, and when I was I felt the need to conceal myself so nobody would be able to see me through a window or through the crack in the door. That week in particular, my mother had been away on business…so my intensity level had been through the roof. It was so bad in fact, that I'd resorted to eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner underneath the comforter…a flashlight being the source of light. I'd been reading through the paper that particular morning, trying to distract myself from all of the scary noises the house had been making. Then I'd seen the want ad. It had been posted by her step daughter, stating the need for a full time live in nurses aid. It said her step mother was seventy one, alone, and needed somebody to be there for her…to tend to her needs and to make her feel comfortable. I saw the opportunity. The ad sounded desperate, and I knew how hard it was to find somebody reliable enough to live with your relative. So I called, and after a short ten minute interview with the step daughter, I found myself being talked into having lunch with the both of them the very next day.
It was hard when she passed. Maude and I became very close during the three year span I worked for her. After awhile it didn't even feel like work anymore. I felt like I was living with a grandparent or an elderly relative. I'd get up in the morning and we'd cook breakfast together and read the paper. She didn't have a television, she didn't really have any interest in that sort of thing. I was kind of glad about that too, because at that point in my life I think I was better off not having a lot of knowledge about what was going on in the world. We'd always have tea in the afternoons and play canasta. After awhile I told her what happened to me, and even though it was awkward for me to tell a seventy three year old woman that I was raped in a bathroom stall…she didn't make me feel like I was a horrible person for it. If anything, her words of wisdom only made me stronger, and by the time she passed on I guess…she'd made me so strong that I knew I could handle anything.
"Justin likes routine."
I follow her into one of the most luxurious kitchens I've ever seen. Blonde wood cabinets and drawers accent the marble counter tops amazingly. Everything is flawless, spotless, and perfect. It makes me wonder how many people they have working to keep the place clean, but there's just something about Lynn Harless that makes me think she does most of the work herself. I pause at the kitchen island, taking a moment to look up at the shiny copper pots above my head, before reverting my gaze back to her. She's standing at the sink, gazing out the window. I hate to admit that she knows my mother so well and I've never spoken to the woman before. I've seen pictures of her though…in mom's photo album back home. One summer when I went away to camp, she landed a job in Orlando doing some photos for a record company, and I guess Lynn was around a lot. They've stayed in touch all these years and by some grace of God, Lynn actually remembered that she had a daughter who'd gone to school for nursing. About three weeks ago she gave my mother a call, asking her if I still 'I had a job' and 'would I be interested in taking care of some things for her son'.
Yes her son. Her son being Justin Timberlake of all people.
I'm still confused by it. Sure, I read the papers…I watch the news. I heard about what happened to him more than once. In the beginning, it was all that the media talked about. God, it was like the president had just been rescued from a prison camp or something. I think the whole thing is way too hyped up. I think these people get way too much respect for things that happen to regular people all the time, all over the world. Hell, maybe I'm just bitter about a lot of things. I guess I am. Maybe, deep down, I wish my horrible experience could have been publicized….maybe it would have made me feel better knowing the whole god damned world felt sorry for me.
Maybe I'm just a retard.
I was a little hesitant to take this position at first. I'd heard how normal people like me get treated by these rich and famous people, and I knew I wasn't ready to be yelled at or blamed for ridiculous things. But then my mom gave me that look., that 'please honey, do it for me' look. What could I say? There was no way I was going to turn my mother down for a favor after she had helped me through everything. So I just shrugged, sighed, and agreed to meet Lynn. Standing here now, I'm not as uptight about the whole situation. She seems really nice and sweet, depressed of course…but who wouldn't be? But this isn't even about her. Sure she hired me…but she's not the one I have to deal with. It's her son I'm going to deal with. Her son the pampered celebrity….
Her son that's been 'away getting his head together'
"I can handle routine," I reassure her. "Being an aid involves a lot of routine."
She doesn't answer me for awhile, and I know she's thinking really hard about something. I'm sure she's wondering if she's making the right choice…the right decision for her son's well being. I wish I could tell her she is, but then again…I don't really know either. I feel for the woman though…I really do. On the ride over here she was nervous…she kept avoiding topics. She wouldn't just come out and say where Justin has been or why she had to hire me. She told me a lot about companionship though, and that Justin needs some more companionship in his life. I was the moron who asked 'what happened to his friends?'
The rest of the car ride was pretty silent after that.
"Good." She finally turns, and flashes me a tight smile. "Because you're the only person that's come through for me so far, and I need you to understand what you're about to take on. This isn't…," she pauses and sighs. "Things have taken a sudden turn in Justin's life, and as much as he won't admit it…he needs somebody here to make sure it all doesn't fall apart again. I know and trust your mother, and she seems to think you're a very mature and responsible young woman. There isn't a doubt in my mind that you can do the job, Melanie; I just need to be sure that we can be honest with each other. If something happens…anything at all, you need to be sure you contact me so we can resolve the issue."
I don't know what the woman is talking about. If she's trying to hide the fact that her son is or has recently turned into a psycho it's not going to work. Everybody in the world knows that a hostage situation is nightmarish…and god, I have no idea what went on or what he went through when that happened to him. But I do know about fear…and pain…and being lost. Really, if he opens up to me I think I might be able to help him. But that's only if he wants to. If not…I guess I'll just be fixing his meals and making sure he doesn't kill himself or something like that.
But hey, the pay is good.
"You can count on me, Mrs. Harless." I force a perfect smile for her and stick out my hand, but she just sighs, and tells me she wants me to call her Lynn before pulling me into a hug. It's a long one, a warm one…like she's just found the answer to all of her problems. I keep smiling when she lets go of me, I don't want to let her down, but I know that I can't fix anything. I'm not a miracle worker…I'm just me.
Just Melanie Parker.
******************
I used to be the type of guy who never got nervous. Well, okay, maybe that's not the complete truth. I used to be they type of guy that was really good at keeping his feelings and insecurities tucked away. I guess I felt I had to, because Justin was always nervous no matter how casual the situation was. I made a decision the first time I was allowed to go out on tour with him, that I was going to be the one with the level head. That I was going to be the one to keep him from making stupid decisions and getting into trouble that he wouldn't be able to get out of. In a way I guess I was pretty lame…trying to cover his ass when I should have been just as care free as he was. I don't know, I guess I let all the stories about the entertainment industry get to my head. Justin was my best friend and I didn't want to see anything bad happen to him. I didn't want to see him get taken advantage of. But in the end it didn't matter. Because nobody could have prevented the horrible things that happened to Justin.
Even though he thinks I could have.
I'm sitting here in the airport terminal, wondering why the hell these chairs have to be so hard, as I bite my thumbnail and pray to god that she's going to be the same girl I shipped back to Millington three months ago. I didn't really want to. I wanted her to stay here so I could take care of her…keep her safe. But in my heart I guess I knew the only way Kerri was going to be okay, was if she was able to spend some time with her family. I know they never really got the chance to grasp what happened to their daughter…really look into it and see the hell she'd been through. The daughter they raised had changed immensely, because of a nightmare, and the better part of me knew that they needed time, a lot of time, to get to know her again.
It was hard, initially, seeing them walk into the hospital that morning knowing I had to be the one with most of the answers. I'd never really dealt with Kerri's parents on such a personal level before. Sure I grew up around them, and I would usually tag along when Justin would go over to her house after school, but it never went beyond that. I was never invited over for dinner, or on weekend trips to the lake like Justin was. I was always just the boy that lived down the street to them… "Justin's little friend", and that was fine back then. Back when there was no reason to really care.
So not only did I have to be the bearer of some really shitty news to the Kerri's parents, but I also felt I had to prove myself to them at the same time. I didn't know what their opinion of Justin had turned into, and really…I didn't want to know. But I figured if their attitudes toward Justin had turned sour, I'd probably gotten dragged down with him. I didn't want that. I needed to show them…I had to show them how much I cared about their daughter. That…that she had somebody she could count on. Or maybe I just…I just wanted somebody to believe in me for once. Really believe in me. Think that I was a really great guy, not a fuck up, not an complete asshole.
Sometimes I can be so fucking stupid.
I guess they were grateful she had somebody. The mother was pretty quiet. She sobbed a little bit every now and then, but mostly…she just seemed totally out of it. Justin always used to tell me that Kerri's mom had a lot of issues because of her miscarriage, but that's the farthest he'd get into the topic with me. I made myself understand. I mean, part of me wanted to be angry that nobody would let me know the full story. I thought Kerri and I were just as close as she and Justin were, but then I thought about it….really thought about it and then I realized I wasn't. I was Kerri's really great friend…and I was Justin's best friend. But I would never have the same kind of bond with Kerri that Justin had with her. They just had this little thing…with just the two of them. With inside jokes, and late nights on the phone that nobody else was allowed to be a part of. I guess that was the year I realized that Justin and Kerri had loved each other from the very beginning, and I had no place in it. And I never would.
I made myself decide that was just fine.
I distanced myself that year I think. It hurt me more than I thought it would too, and then I realized I might have had stronger feelings for Kerri than I cared to admit. It really pissed me off, because I knew I didn't have a chance in hell in getting her to feel the same way. She was entirely caught up in Justin. He was a fucking messiah in her eyes then, he could do no wrong. Sometimes it made me fucking sick to my stomach, especially when Kerri would be out on the road with us. I'd be at sound check, see them goofing around together, and have to make some lame ass excuse that I was sick so I could go back to the room for the night. They never caught on though, it was cool with them because it meant they could get their bonding time in. And I tried to make myself believe it was better off that I let them be without me.
But damn, looking back on it all now…I really wish I'd taken the girl aside and told her how much I really did care. 'Course she would have laughed at me I'm sure. Well…laughed or gotten really freaked out. But hey, it couldn't have been as bad as telling her about my feelings when she was doped up on morphine and confined to a hospital bed.
Kerri's dad is one of those guys who hates to stray from the point of conversation. No excuses, no bullshit…just tell it to him straight and he'll figure out how to solve the problem. I was kind of glad. I just told him what happened, his face got a little red when I told him she had been stressed out about Justin treating her badly. Then he patted my shoulder, thanked me, and reassured me that Kerri would be just fine. He'd call me…make sure he updated me. And I didn't want to…I didn't want to be mad at him for that, but I couldn't help it. He didn't care that I was there, that I wanted to be her friend and help her out. He just wanted to snatch his daughter up and make her forget about us….
And while I just…I fucking hate Justin right now, I wasn't about to allow Kerri's family to make her forget about him …
Or hell, about me.
"You can't just snatch her up like some possession." It was the kind of thing that would have gotten me cracked across the face by my father when I was a kid, but I didn't care. For once, I was going to be bold and determined when it came to Kerri and my feelings for her. Maybe I was being selfish…trying to keep her to myself so nobody else could outshine me again. Hell I don't know. All I know is that the guy stared at me for a really long time after that. He didn't say anything, but I could see it….I could see it in his eyes. He knew how much his daughter meant to me.
And Christ, that man included me in every single thing that took place after that.
Kerri had a lot of problems after she was first released from the hospital. Her leg was still messed up as fuck, and she couldn't walk on her own. It was hard for her…a girl that was so used to being independent being confined to a seat all day long. She got really moody, really needy. She wanted everything done for her at first. She acted like the world owed her something. And hell, I understood that…but her father didn't. He told her if she wanted to do something she was going to do it on her own, because she made the decision to move out to California in the first place. I had to hold my tongue at times like that. Because Kerri would stare at me, like it was my fault, and I wanted to tell her that I was sorry. But I guess I knew better. It wasn't my fault…none of it was. Kerri was just angry at a lot of things, and she had every right to be. I had my opportunity to back out in the beginning too…but of course I didn't.
I'd never leave her like he left her.
After a couple of weeks of therapy, Kerri was starting to manage to limp around a little. We'd walk down the back pathway behind my apartment after dinner most nights. It gave us a lot of time to talk about things….a lot of things. I think I got to know the girl all over again. It was weird. It wasn't Kerri. Not the Kerri I thought I knew anyway. This one was much more serious and reserved. That playful twinkle never entered her eyes anymore. She didn't smile. She was fearful of everything. Friends were out of the question. She didn't trust anybody back in New York. Siobhan was even out of the question. As far as Kerri was concerned it was partially her fault Justin went 'crazy' in the first place. I didn't agree or disagree with her. I just went along and tried to change the subject. Sure, she'd get pissed…say I wasn't listening, but I didn't fight back. She knew damn well I was listening, but with all the therapy and shit I'd been through myself, I'd learned not to put myself in a vulnerable position anymore.
I'd learned not to really take sides.
We had a long talk about the whole "I love you thing', and we both agreed that it was done out of haste. I mean, hell, how could I possibly love Kerri? She said there wasn't a way I could, it was never like that between us…and I just smiled and nodded. "Sure Ker." because I didn't know what the fuck else to say. Do I love Kerri? Of course I do. But there's no way I'm getting into a relationship with anybody right now, and the same thing goes for her too. Just being friends is good enough for now. Hell, the fact that she's alive to begin with is good enough for now.
It was decided that when Kerri was a little better, it would be good for her to go home to Tennessee for a little while to recuperate and get her head together. Kerri wanted to see her sister really badly too, so of course I was happy that her parents were willing to take her back into their home. She wanted me to come too of course, and Mr. Donovan told me he had no problems with that if I was up for it. But then…I just….I don't know. I guess I felt that maybe I could use a little break again. Not a break from Kerri, but just a break from life in general. It was hard for me to get moments alone to take everything in, and whenever I managed to…it would usually result in my crying like a fucking loser. I lost my best friend. Elisha was long fucking gone, and Kerri…I just had no idea what the future held for her, and I had to admit I really had no concept of how to take care of her problems, even though I'd tried to convince myself otherwise. I felt so alone, like I was sinking, and I guess I figured the best thing would be for Kerri to go…get her life together, be happy. She deserved to be happy. And I…well I thought that maybe I could learn to be better for her, so when she came back maybe I'd have a chance to treat her the way she deserved to be treated.
I'm the same way I was when I put her on the plane back home.
"Hey."
I pick my head up and she's standing there, just standing there like always. Old frumpy blue backpack slung over one shoulder, hands fidgeting nervously with the bottom of her shirt. . Her blond hair is pulled back in a low pony tail, and she stares at me with those eyes of her. Those eyes that used to be so bright and happy. They're still not. They're still traumatized, cold…hurt, and cautious. Even so, it's still Kerri. My Kerri. The girl I guess I've always loved…even though I was never supposed to. I smile a little. It's an unsure, nervous smile, and I know she can sense my mood because she flinches a little as I come towards her. It's awkward. Its been three months and now she's come back to stay with me because…
Well I don't really have a clue.
She called me up a couple of weeks ago, sounding a little bit refreshed, but a world away from the girl I used to know. She told me she thought she was ready to come back. I told her I thought she was crazy…to stay at home and spend more time with her folks. But Kerri was persistent. She said she felt she'd had enough time away from her problems, and wanted to come back to Los Angeles so she could 'start fresh'…whatever that meant. What could I do? One thing I vowed never to do, was try to control Kerri's decisions. Justin did that entirely too often, whether he realized it or not, and I think…maybe…it took part of Kerri's spirit away. Of course, I could be wrong. I wasn't involved in their relationship. I don't really know what went on behind closed doors. But I do know…I do know Justin hurt her. Justin went fucking nuts…and he changed her. He changed her more than he should have been allowed to.
"Hi Kerri." I put a reassuring hand on her arm and rub it a little. Naturally, there's no real reaction from her. It's funny how I expect this mood from her now. I remember a time when she would jump on me and hug me for fifteen minutes, giggling in my ear about something stupid she heard the other day. I long for those days again. I want to just be a stupid giggling kid again. I want to smoke weed with Kerri and Justin in the hotel room. I want to go to the night club and get shit faced and not care. I want to pick up the phone, call Elisha and still be able to call her baby. I want…
I want my best friend back too.
"You're crying."
It's a whisper, but loud enough to make me realize how idiotic I'm being right now. I reach up and sure enough, the tears are ever present on my cheeks. I wipe them away, and sniffle. "I'm okay."
She touches my faces and sighs. "Stop it. You're not okay, Trace."
I shrug. "I just…I guess I just missed you."
This time she drops her bag. It takes her a little effort to limp right up to me, and I almost reach out to steady her, even though I know how much she hates that. But she doesn't need my help after all. She opens her arms and wraps them around my neck. I feel my body stiffen. Kerri hasn't hugged me in a long time. After the accident she closed herself off from a lot of physical contact. She didn't really want me to touch her, and she was a little weird about hugging her dad and mother too. I never really understood, and of course I never got into it with her. But…I guess that accident was just the final straw for Kerri. She'd already been through hell, she trusted somebody…loved him…would have gone to the ends of the earth for him, and he just….I guess he just stopped caring or something.
I don't know. I'll never understand why Justin did what he did to her.
"I missed you too." She says the words into my neck, and I can feel a few light tears drip onto my tee shirt. I know she's crying too. Damn, and I woke up this morning and promised myself I was going to be good today. I told myself I cried my tears for three months and that she was coming back now…so I had to be strong, level headed Trace again. But I'm not doing any of that. I'm just…I'm breaking down in front of her like a fucking wimp. Kerri doesn't need a wimp in her life again.
"But we talked on the phone every day, Trace." She pulls away from me as she says the words, and gives me the once over. She's probably making sure I look like I've slept, been changing my clothes, not been drinking myself into the ground. I haven't. I mean, I've been good with that. I've been hanging out with some friends of mine when I've had the chance. They've kept my spirits up a little bit. I didn't give myself a reason to get really fucking depressed and drunk. But I cant say that I didn't sit home a lot of nights and just….cry. Sometimes it was therapeutic, but most of the time it was just sad and lonely. Like nobody gave a damn. That's how you get when you cry. Every bad thing in the world that's happened suddenly comes rushing back to you, and you dwell on it all…make yourself a wreck. Then you wake up on the kitchen floor at six am, empty glass of milk in your hand and wonder what the fuck happened to you..
I force myself to get it together for her, and flash a fake smile. "Girl it's fine. I'm fine, let's just go.." I pick up her book bag and start to walk away. I hope she'll just drop it. I hope we can just talk about her, how her leg is, how her limp is. What she wants to do now that she's back here.
"Fuck. I hate when you do this."
I tend to forget that she isn't Justin. I cant just brush her off, tell her I'm fine. I cant turn the focus on her, because unlike Justin, Kerri isn't selfish. Kerri cares. Kerri worries about what's going on with me, and I cant get shit past her. Not anymore at least. Not since I got her out of her 'situation'. I turn back to her and sigh heavily. "I just don't want to put this on you today." My voice cracks and I can feel my body start to tremble again. I really wish that….I could just stop crying for a day or two. Just for a few minutes.
She limps over to me slowly, taking care not to put a lot of pressure on her bad leg. Then she reaches me, takes my hand, and looks up at me. "You cant fall back into that pattern again. They told you that at the therapists, Trace. You cant just not care about what's going through your mind, okay?" She runs a hand through my messy curls a little and sucks in a shaky breath. "This is why I came back here," she whispers. "I knew…I knew this is what was going on with you. Nobody had to tell me. I could hear it in your voice on the phone. I sat up at night and knew you were just crying, thinking everything was still your fault. That you could have stopped the inevitable from happening. Elisha even…she called me once. She said she came by to give you a box of stuff and found you sleeping on the kitchen floor."
It's wrong, but I hate that Elisha and Kerri are still kind of close. It's weird to me, because while I don't hate Elisha, I know that I cant talk to her or confide in her right now. Hell, I don't know if I'll ever be able to, and it's way too early to tell. She can't be in love with a nervous wreck, and there's another guy that makes her feel wanted more than I was making her feel. Well it's fine. Great. She can go be happy and do her thing. But does she really have to keep Kerri updated on my depression bullshit? No, but she does it because she still thinks she has a place to do it. But I'm done fighting and trying to shut her out. Everybody can just do what they want when it comes me. I have no more energy to lock them out, fight with them, or anything else.
All I really want is to wake up and know that Kerri is in the next room. Go to sleep…and know that Kerri is in the next room.
"Trace."
I let my eyes connect with hers. I don't bother to wipe my tears away this time, and I kiss her cheek. I feel her flinch, but I try my best to put it out of my head. "Maybe I've been bad," I whisper. "But I'm gonna be okay. I mean…you're here now. So we can help each other out….right?"
"Right."
But she doesn't look at me.
************************
I put Trace in bed and sat in the bedroom for a good hour just so I could be sure he was asleep. I don't know what it is. He told me he slept last night, got his eight hours in, and I know Trace…he wouldn't lie to me at this point. I guess I'm just worried about him…fucking worried sick. I wasn't going to come back out here for another few months. I was having a good time back home. For the first time in a long time, I was able to bond with my family in a way I never thought I'd be able to again. Moreso, Mary was there. Mary was there and she still needed me to be her big sister. She still looked up to me. What happened to me…the things I've said and done and all my regrets and mistakes…none of it changed her attitude towards me. The fact that I didn't call for months and months didn't phase her. She just…loved me. That's the beauty of a child, they don't have the mentality to hold a grudge. Sure, they can throw a damn good tantrum…but get them an ice cream and they're over it in an hour.
They don't have the mentality or attention span to put up with a lot of this adult catastrophe bullshit, and I for one couldn't be happier.
The first thing I noticed about Trace when I met him at the airport, was how pale he was. It wasn't just the paleness he usually gets from sitting around in the air conditioning too much, it was more. He was white, really white, and it scared the shit out of me. So much that I didn't even know how to act around him. I really didn't want to be negative after being away for so long. I know he's been looking forward to having me back around here. It gives him some company, somebody who gets what he's going through. Hell, somebody to talk to him at two in the morning when he's still awake. Somebody I guess…that can do the things he used to do with Justin, only at a much lower scale. I'm not saying Trace doesn't have other friends. He does. He's really close with his sister, Brittany, and now that she's in college she's only an hour away from here. There's a couple of other random people too…friends of Elisha's that became friends with him. I think I've met a couple of them once or twice in passing. But none of those people can really compare to the one person that knew him since he was in diapers.
I know he doesn't like to admit it to me, because he doesn't like to talk about Justin with me now that everything has gone to shit; but Trace…he needs Justin. It's blatently obvious and it's making him sick that things might not get back to normal. That they might never be friends again. It's breaking his heart. Everything that happened was really too sudden for Trace, too quick. He wasn't prepared for any of it. Well…none of us were, but I guess Justin and I just…well, we had each other. We had each other all that time things were going on, But Trace, Trace sort of got left behind. He dealt with a lot of tremendous pressure and anxiety all by himself. It destroyed his relationship, his chances of getting married and starting a family. And it ate away at his friendship with Justin until there was nothing left. It was like his life just dissolved…just like that.
And it took me all this time…all this fucking time to realize how selfish Justin and I both were when it came to Trace and how he was dealing with things. Even when I knew the main reason he felt so horrible, all I could do was blame him for 'letting the kiddnapping happen'. I sit up in bed most nights and think about what I could have done differently when he told me. What I could have done to make things a little easier for everybody. Maybe if I hadn't been stuck in my stupid Justin love fantasy I could have done things a lot differently. Maybe Trace would be okay right now… not pale, not depressed, not fucking sick like I know he is.
Its really sad that it took Justin beating me to a pulp and a car accident to realize just how much Trace was hurting.
But I guess I got what I deserved.
"What are you still doing up?"
I gasp a little, but relax when I realize it just Trace peeking out of the doorway. I sigh and shift my eyes towards the clock on the cable box. It's nearly two but I'm not surprised. It's my first night back and I have way too much on my mind right now to be able to get some rest. I shift a little in my spot on the sofa and meet his tired gaze. "I should be asking you that. I tried to make sure you were asleep, Trace. You don't look good."
He chuckles a little and shuffles out into the living room. "I woke up. I told you I slept last night, girl." He plops down beside me on the sofa and gives my shoulder a little rub. "You need to stop playing mother dearest. We had this talk, remember?"
I shrug and send him a disapproving glance before shifting away from him. I hate when he does this, plays it off like his problems don't matter and everything is going to be okay. It's my problems that are important in his eyes, Justin's problems, Elisha's….anybody else's problems but his own. I want to yell at him and tell him to snap out of it and take care of himself, but I'd be wasting my breath. Trace doesn't listen. He never has. His problem is he cares too much, even if he knows whats going on with him is really serious. I start to wonder if coming back here was really the best thing for him. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to Elisha, and stayed away for awhile more. Maybe Trace could have fixed himself. Maybe… "Maybe I'll just go home." I finally look at him, but I wish I hadn't. My words to him seem to have brought him down more than he was earlier today. Great.
"You don't want to be here?," he says quietly, looking down at his lap. "I…I didn't mean to…"
I quickly take one of his hands in mine. "Trace it's not you. You didn't do anything wrong okay? It's just…maybe you just need to be on your own so you can focus on--"
"Focus!" He jerks away from me and jumps up from the sofa. His outbust shocks me a little, and I nearly duck and cover before I remember myself. "Focus Ker? On what? You think I like sitting alone in the house everyday and remembering…"
"Well maybe you need to Trace. Maybe you need to remember everything and think it through so you can finally start your life again."
Silence.
"I'm going to bed."
I don't watch him go, and when the door slams shut I know that was the extent of any conversation I was going to have with him tonight. Yeah, I guess I fucked up and pushed him away. I tend to do that now with people…push them away. I guess I'm afraid of getting hurt again.
Hurt like he hurt me.
********************
Despite the fact that my brothers have drained every ounce of energy from my system over the past couple of months, and the thought of my head hitting my crisp pillow back home sends waves of happiness rushing through me, I can't deny that it hurt like hell packing my suitcases last night. I hadn't realized how much of my brothers lives I was missing. It seems like every time I leave and come back to visit them, they've both grown into different kids. Fads they loved the last time around, are distant memories. There's always something new they're talking about, or into. They get bigger too…all the time, and that really scares me. Most times I think I'm going to leave for a really long time, come back…and they'll be grown already. I know that's crazy. As it is, Stephen is only eight, and he has a lot of time left before he hits high school. I should relax…
But why would I be able to relax now?
Everything about the past is a jumbled mess that I've pushed to the back of my mind. When I saw Madison….that time after Kerri was gone, I couldn't even tell her what happened. I didn't fucking remember. The only thing I could really talk about, was that I knew Kerri got hurt and that I knew it was my fault. Natuarlly, Madison gave me the 'nothing is your fault Justin' spiel, and I guess I melted into it. For once, I forced myself to listen to the woman. I guess, because I didn't want to drive myself anymore insane than I knew I was. I let it all melt away after that. The kidnapping, Shane…the fucking disgusting things that happened to me. I drowned out the sound of Kerri's voice. The one that constantly screamed at me and tried to remind me of what really happened. I blocked Trace out too. I blocked them all out…
And then I ran away.
Well, I didn't really run away. I just got away. Madison talked to my mom…told her that she thought I needed a change of scenery, that I didn't look good. One phone call to daddy later, I was on my private jet, headed to Orlando. It was a place I hadn't been since just after the incident happened, and it was a little hard for me taking the trip there. It reminded me of too much, and at one point Eric had to give me a sedetive so I wouldn't puke all over myself in the bathroom. When we landed things got better. Lisa and daddy and the boys met me at the gate and took me back to their house. It was comforting….that they wanted to make me feel welcome and stuff. Things had been awkward the last time around, because of what happened. But I guess feelings change with time. At least their feelings.
Although, I still havent told my dad about….
"Justin! Look!"
I jump a mile in the air, and it causes me to throw my journal across the boat's deck. I whimper a little, and then I manage to look up into the face of my youngest brother, Stephen. I immediately feel like an asshole, because he looks like he just pissed his pants. "Steve…"
"I'm sorry." He whispers it and hangs his head low. "I just wanted to show you what Jon caught."
Frustrated that I let myself slip in front of him, I let out a disgruntled sigh and rub my face with my hands. Finally, I'm able to face him again…but it isn't pretty. His face is red, and there are fresh tears on his young little face. I hate myself, truly. It's been hard on him…what happened to me. And well, it's no joke that he's been stuck to my side like glue since I landed here three months ago. It's like he feels the need to protect me or make me feel wanted, and yeah…its really cute and I love the kid; but I also feel like I've taken away a big chunk of his spirit. Daddy told me that he hasn't really been himself since he figured out what really happened to me…that he's been afraid to go out and play with his friends. Of course, daddy told me that it wasn't my fault…that I hadn't done anything wrong. But his words didn't reassure me. I felt like I'd failed the poor kid. Because of me…he'd never be able to experience a lot of things that a kid was supposed to. He was afraid of the world, and it was entirely my fault.
I think it's partly why I'm forcing myself to go back to LA.
"Hey…" I flash him a soft smile and tug him towards me. "It's all right buddy. You just shocked me, that's all."
He slowly lifts his head to look at me, and sniffles a little bit. "I scared you."
"Nah." I shake my head and give him a tight squeeze. "You know you can't scare me." I laugh a little and ruffle his hair. "You little buzz-fizz."
My infamous nick name for him, is returned by a slight spout of laughter. I guess that's good…but the better part of me knows that he's forcing it. I sit back on the lounger, and he scrambles onto my lap so he can lay his head on my chest. It's a good feeling and I'm glad I decided to stay this one last day so I could spend this time with my father and brothers on their annual fishing trip. I know there wont be too many more like this one. Stephen may be eight but he's getting big. Next summer, I doubt I'll be able to tolerate him curling up on top of me like this. Its yet another moment in my life I've learned to cherish. I have to cherish it. I mean, after all…
I could be dead right now.
"Do you hafta go back home, Justin?" His small finger traces a pattern up and down my neck, toying with the hair that's recently grown there. "I have little league on Saturday. I want you to go."
I sigh heavily. No, I don't want to go back to LA. Back to being alone. Back to my mom calling me every hour to make sure I havent killed myself. Back to wondering what the hell Trace is doing, and if he really hates me or if its just some temporary thing. Back to being up all hours, trying to pass the time by fooling around with the studio equipment downstairs…or watching a bunch of dvds….anything really. Anything to keep my mind off of that one…subject. The subject that made me run to Madison in the first place. The subject that really…it's the real reason I'm down here right now.
I can't accept what I did. I've drowned it out, but…I still know. I still know what I did to Kerri, and I still have no idea how I'm supposed to fix it. I mean, damn, how the hell do you fix something so horrible?
But I'm going home, because I know I can't hide forever. The longer I stay away the more painful it's going to be when I finally go back. I have to grow up a little bit…face shit, even though I don't want to. Even though I don't think I deserve to deal with anymore pain. It doesn't matter. It's my fault all this shit blew up in my face, and it's about damn time I acted like a man and dealt with it. I just…I have to go back and get on with my life. Sure, of course I'd rather be here playing with my brothers and bonding with my dad. But right now, its just not my place. My place is home…in the house that I put so much time and effort into. I have to manage my life again…by myself. "I don't want to go," I say to him, giving his back a little rub. "But you know, sometimes I have to go and take care of things Steve. Daddy will send me the video and I'll see your game that way."
He looks up at me then, right into my eyes where I'm most vulnerable. "Are you still scared?"
I feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, and I have to look away from him before I break. "Stephen…" I suck in a breath and give him a gentle push so I can sit up a little bit. "I thought me you and daddy agreed that we wouldn't talk about this a lot anymore. It scares you…and I don't want you to be scared."
He sits up on his knees and sucks in his bottom lip as he stares at me. "But I don't want you to be scared either. I woke up last night and I went to get some milk and I heard you in your room…you were crying."
I feel myself go numb. This is getting out of hand. He's getting too big and I cant keep anything from him anymore. I know I have to leave…its just getting unhealthy for him, me being here. "I wasn't crying, Stephen. Come on okay, stop it." I'm agitated and I have to get up and walk away before he asks me another question and I totally lose it
"I'm not a baby!" I hear him call out. It causes me to turn on my heel, and I stare him down…my expression full of impatience and anger. I'm done discussing this situation with a fucking eight year old. He needs to just….forget about me and be a fucking kid again. Fuck, I'm not coming out here for his birthday in couple of months. I'll do the phone thing like I've had to do in the past.
"You don't tell me anything! You talk to Jon and daddy and it's not…"
"Stephen! Would you just shut up! It doesn't concern you!" I scream the words at him and fold my arms across my chest.
His expression drops like a dead weight. The enthusiasm and protest in his eyes fades to nothing more than a dull stare. Then he just starts to bawl like any normal eight year old would after their older brother screamed at them to shut up.
What the fuck am I thinking?
"Steve…I'm--"
"What's going on?" Jonathan runs up behind him just then, big fish on a hook in his left hand, and I'm assuming this is what Stephen was ranting about before. "Why is he crying? Did he fall?"
Of course I don't answer. I brush past the older of my two siblings, past my father who was standing in the background, probably listening to everything that just happened. I go below decks, into a bunk, and lock myself in. I don't care about the knock that comes on the door ten minutes later. I don't care that it's my father and he tells me that I have to stop shutting people out of my life. I don't care about anything.
I just care about crying into this pillow, because it's the one thing that won't protest and ask me lots of questions. It will just take it, and that's all I really need at this point.
Just somebody to take it.
