Where Have You Been

Chapter 15

Zoë's POV

The car ride back was unbearably painful. My mom kept inquiring about Niall and Taylor, two people who were somewhere below my dead father on the top 100 list of people I wanted to talk about right now. Even though I was anything but tired, I lay may head against the window to conceal the tears that poured down my face. Taylor’s outburst had astonished me to no end, and it seems as if that was her desired effect. The devil on my shoulder told me that it was jealousy, but it had to be more than that. I had been spending an unexplainable amount of time texting Niall, even after she reminded me that he had a girlfriend. I would HATE whatever girl decided to text my boyfriend flirty messages. And I guess she never really knew how Niall and I met. The thought occurred to me that perhaps Taylor wouldn’t be so angry and confused about Niall and my “relationship” if I explained to her how we really met. This new idea lightened my mood, and I wiped the sticky tears off of my face, resolving never to cry again.

I told my mom to drop me off in front of Taylors house, and, because she was so oblivious of my fight with Taylor, did so without a second thought. I watched her speed away, and I instantly wanted to call for her to come back. Now that I was here, I had no idea what to say to Taylor.

“Oh hey. Just btw don’t be angry with me cuz Niall saved me from a rapist. K bye.” You can’t drop a bomb without major, potentially irreparable destruction. As I contemplated what to say on the front steps of Taylors house, her parents opened the door, apparently oblivious as well.

“Come in, sweetie! How was New York? Oh I’m sure Taylor’s dying to see you!” Yup. Or she WILL die when she sees me. Either way. I smiled blandly at them, nodding without quite listening to their cooing baby talk.

“Tay?” I whispered, standing in her doorway. She was lying face down in a pile of ripped photos, her white covers damp with tears.

“What do you want?” Taylor mumbled in to her covers, obviously surprised at my presence.

“To talk?” I was cautious, as if not wanting to enrage the hungry lion that was Taylor. “I have some explaining to do.” Taylor was pretty much unresponsive, but I took that as a good sign. I sat on the edge of her bed, sinking into her $2,500 Tempurpedic mattress, and equally expensive down comforters from Yves Saint Lauren. “About Niall” She groaned audibly, and covered her ears with her hands. I pried them off, whispering into them.

“I’m serious. This is something you absolutely have to hear.” She refrained from covering her ears again, but her head was still buried in her bed. “That night, after the concert. Niall didn’t just come to give me the flowers. He—he saved me.” Again, I could hear Taylor groaning. She sat up, and revealed to me her horrible looking face. Her hair was stuck in clumps to her tear-stained face, and she had red blotches on her face where blood under her skin had pooled. The corners of my mouth couldn’t help but to turn up at this sight.

“I’m only up because I couldn’t breathe like that” she intoned, apparently not wanting to give me the satisfaction of engaging her.

“I’m serious, Tay.” The smile vanished from my face, and I started where I left off. “Taylor, her saved me from a—a rapist.” She was trying to remain emotionless before, but I could see the shock in her face. “This man… saw me outside…. Forced me…. “ I couldn’t quite get the words out of my mouth. “Niall heard it, and he came. The rapist ran when he heard someone coming. Niall needed my number to call you…” Taylor bit her lip, her eyes moving as if piecing together the parts of the story. She was looking guiltier with each word I said. “You understand, right?” She was silent for a moment, but soon she dragged herself up and launched into my arms.

“Oh Zoe I’m so sorry. I can’t believe what a bitch I was. I—I had no idea. I was naïve and stupid to think that you were such a… bimbo?” We giggled at her word choice, falling into one another’s arms. As soon as we had put ourselves back together, I noticed the ripped up photographs on her bed again. She noticed me eyeing them.

“Zoe… it was stupid, I was angry. Please understand…” I realized that the photos were photos of Taylor and I together: at the beach, our first day of school, shopping at the mall… I can’t believe I was about to let all of that go.

“I do understand. I do” My resolve from a few paragraphs earlier was broken, and Taylor and I both began to cry. It was tears of joy, and tears of forgotten memories. They streamed down our already wet cheeks, creating a new layer of retentions on our faces.

I slipped from Taylors embrace and grabbed a roll of tape from Taylors PB teen desk.

We sat in silence for a minute, just staring up at our collage. Taylor finally grabbed my wrist and pulled me up.

“We need to go back to your house”. I nodded in agreement, understanding what she meant.

I stood, quite a sight in my wrinkled yellow dress and tear stained face, in our doorframe, staring at my mom, who sat reading on the living room couch. Taylor prodded my back from behind me, whispering in to my ear.

“Go do it”.