Middle of Your Dreams

17

The girls are crashed on one end of the couch. The park tired them out, and they finally crashed from their sugar high.

"Will you come with me to the hospital tomorrow?" I ask, my head in Stevie's lap. She's brushing her fingers through my hair.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah. You don't have to come in to the room, obviously, but it would make me feel a lot better about what I'm going to do."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't really know, but I think I'm going to tell him that unless he can be proud of me, I don't want to talk to him."

Stevie gives me a sympathetic look, and bends down to kiss the side of my head.

"Whatever you think is best for you."

"I don't know. I feel horrible, because he's the only parent I have left. But, I just can't. I can't keep hoping that every interaction will be different. I just... I'm finally at a point in my life where I feel secure. I'm happy with what I'm doing. I'm happy with the people I'm around. I don't need him bringing me down constantly. I wasn't anything he'd hoped I'd be, and he totally resents me for that. It's too much to deal with."

"I know what that feels like," She sighs. I sit up, wrapping my arms around her. She lays her head on my chest, her arms tight around my waist. I tangle my fingers in her hair, brushing through it.

"How do you get your hair so soft?" I ask, making her giggle.

"It's a secret."

"No fair," I pout, pressing a kiss to her temple. She rolls her eyes, leaning back against the arm of the couch. She opens her arms, and I lay my head on her chest, cradled between her legs.

"How did you feel when your mom died?" She asks quietly. I look up, and she has a far away look in her eyes.

"Numb. Overwhelmingly numb. I just didn't know what to do. She was my rock, my best friend. The thought of going through the rest of my life without her made me almost crazy. There were times when all I could do was lay on the floor and just scream. It was, uh, not good. I was in a really bad place mentally, not making great decisions and stuff. My dad and I got into a blowout about two weeks after her funeral, and that's the day I packed up and moved to California. It was really rough," I sigh.

"I felt like that when my best friend died. Of course, the numbness was self induced. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest with every breath I took. I would be sitting there and just start screaming because it was so unfair..." She trails off, and I see her swallow hard.

I squeeze her hand, resting my head on her chest again. She rubs her hand up my arm, squeezing my shoulder.

The next morning, Stevie stands at my side, my hand clasped firmly in hers.

"You got this," She says, squeezing my hand. I nod.

"Okay."

"Are you gonna go in?"

I take a breath and nod, letting go of her hand and entering the room.

"Hey," I say softly.

"Hi," He says, sitting up.

"I, uh, I'm going home today."

He raises his eyebrow at me.

"Look, I just... um, I don't think we should talk anymore. Not that we do much as it is, I just think it's for the best. For both of us."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's always tense, and a little passive aggressive. All of your comments have some kind of negative implication, and I just don't think it's good for either of us. You can't be stressing and angry, with your heart. And I simply cannot be brought down by you anymore," I say, tearing up.

"Uh... okay. Have a safe flight, Alina," He says, clearing his throat.

I nod, turning quickly on my heel and heading into the hall. Stevie stands from the chair she'd been sitting in. I sob, practically collapsing into her arms.

"Shh, it's okay, Ali," She soothes, stroking my hair and rubbing my back. I just cry, clinging to her tightly.

"He didn't even try to argue with me," I sniffle, pulling back. She gives me a sad smile, her arm around my waist.

"Come on, angel girl. Let's go home."

I nod.

The flight is short and quiet. I'm stuck in my head. After all the work I've done to convince myself that this relationship with my father is okay, that I'm okay with this being all I'm going to get from him, that reaction still hurt like a bitch. He acts like I'm not even his kid.

The second we're back at the house, I launch myself at Dave.

"Hey, hey, Ali, what's wrong?" He asks, hugging me tightly. I sob against his shoulder, shaking my head. I pull back after a minute, furiously rubbing my face to rid my cheeks of tears.

"Are you okay?" He asks. I shake my head, collapsing on the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. He sits beside me, his arm resting along the back of the couch. Stevie comes down a few minutes later, sitting on the other side of me. She takes my hand, holding it between both of hers in her lap.

"I'm just happy to be home."