More Than Enough (A Completed Novella)

CHAPTER 5

Ellen hated crying. She'd spent most of the first few months after Ken's death crying and it had become something of an obsession to make sure she never did anymore.

But Henry's words made her cry, and him making her feel like her parents made her feel when she thought he understood…

She sniffled into a patch of Scabby's fur that wasn't scabby. And then someone knocked on the door.

The only person it could be was Henry, and she was torn about whether to answer or not. On the one hand she didn't want to be yelled at any more, but on the other hand maybe he was interested in what she'd been offering.

That thought alone propelled her from bed and down the stairs. She opened the door and looked up at Henry standing there sadly in the dark, big puffy coat on. She gestured him inside.

"I…I'm sorry for that. I am, but I can't… I could never feel right about getting involved with you."

"Never?"

He shook his head. "There are things you don't know. No matter how beautiful and amazing you are, you'll never not be Ken's sister."

There it was again. Just like her parents. Defined by what had been lost. Something that had nothing to do with her. "I'm Ellen. Who I am is who I am. Regardless of who I'm related to, or how they died. And, Henry Peterson, who you are is who you are, and it is not defined by the one night you didn't take your irresponsible friend's keys away from him."

"You know how you went to that dance camp the summer after Ken died?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do—"

"I paid for that."

She tried to make sense out of him paying for her dance camp, but she failed. How could he have—

"After Ken's funeral, when you were staying with your grandparents, I think, I went to your parents to apologize for my role. They said because of the costs of the funeral they couldn't afford to send you to that dance camp you wanted to go to. So…"

"So what?"

"I gave them the money I'd saved up for—"

Her heart stopped or dropped or both. "Tell me they did not take money from an eighteen-year-old."

"I offered."

"That does not make it right. That doesn't make any of that right! You…you were going to go to Iowa State. You were going to… God, I'd forgotten all about that. You and Ken were going to be engineers."

"Close enough."

"Close enough. Close enough? What is wrong with you? That's… They never should have accepted that. That's awful—more awful than I've ever given them credit for."

"They were grieving."

"They will always be grieving. It does not give them the right to prey on a teenager."

"It was hardly like that."

"They should have said no."

"Well, they didn't, and it's not the only thing I've given them money for when it comes to you. So, understand that this is far more complicated than you want it to be."

It felt like a blow, like she'd been knocked flat. Her parents had taken money from Henry so she could follow all her different whims every time she'd run away trying to find happy.

"Look, you may not agree with it, but I will always, always feel responsible for what happened to Ken. I knew he was too drunk to drive, but I was tired of being the responsible one. Some girl was going to let me go home with her, and I let that be more important than my best friend's safety. I can't let that go."

"He did it! Why do we all have to blame you?" Ellen's throat was tight but she didn't want to cry anymore, so she let the anger overtake the sad. "It's his fault. His! Not yours. Not Mom and Dad's. Not mine. We should all hate him for it."

"Ellen—"

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much money do I owe you?" She had to make this right. She turned into her apartment to find her checkbook. Of course her account was on the zero side since she'd bought this damn townhouse. Taking money from Mom and Dad for this would be ludicrous. But she had to—

"You owe me nothing. Not a cent."

"No. I…it's not right. You changed your life all so I could go to some dumb dance camp? I'm not even a dancer! This is awful."

"It's fine. I chose—"

She whirled on him. "To be an idiot. A stupid, guilt-ridden, moronic… You were wrong. So damn wrong."

"You don't get to tell me that. Sorry. I did everything I did because it was the right thing to do."

He said it so resolutely, as if there were no other option. It was such utter crap.

"Everything you did is because you enjoy being sad and miserable and in pain. That's why you do it, Henry. Just like Mom and Dad. You all love being fucking miserable, because if you'd ever try to be happy again something bad might happen. Well, it's a crappy way to live, and I won't go around pretending it's not." If she lived like they did, she'd never be able to get up in the morning. "I'd like you to leave."

"I just had to explain to you that this isn't as simple as you think it is."

"No. No, it's an excuse. Your life is excuses for hiding away from anything that could possibly go wrong or cause you pain." Her way might not have been much better, running away, living off of other people, but she was changing that. She was here to change that.

"You would know. That's what you're doing. Chasing happy. How is that not avoiding anything that would cause you pain?"

She paused because he was right. But that didn't make her wrong. "Good night, Henry." And she closed the door in his face.