Summer Rain

XVIII ~ Friction Burns

{Weights and Measures - Dry the River}

...I was prepared to love you, and never expect anything of you...

----

July 4th

        Fireworks burn brightly and die quickly. They are ephemeral moments of bliss and spectacular beauty. Maybe that was what Elliot and I had become. Fireworks.

          It had been four days without him. Four days of reverting into the shell I had emerged from in the month and a half I had been at the club. I bathed in the relentless sun while my Father kept his eye on me at all times as I was chained like a dog to the family's side. The suffocating silence between Elliot and I was beginning to break me, but with all, I was risking to even say 'hi' to him, I was mute. Paralysed by the power my Dad had over my life.

      Mom's eyes were lowered to the floor at all times when she was near me, her mind in constant turmoil. I knew when we had spoken, she had understood my plea to let me be with Elliot, but as of yet, she hadn't decided who's the team she was on. Every moment was like agony.

      Bodhi lied to Elliot when he asked about me, told him I was sick and that visiting me wouldn't look good. My brother informed me of Elliot's sullen face and forlorn eyes when he passed me at the table while I deliberately felt the need to turn away, feeling awful about the fact that he would know I wasn't sick, or even if I was it wasn't as bad as Bodhi was making it out to be. It was like I was giving him the silent treatment when all I wanted was to scream.

      Yet, I held on. I was holding on for dear life to the thought that Elliot and I could get through this. That we could somehow come out the other side, hand in hand, and look into the vast and uncertain future. I was holding on so tightly my hands were burned with the friction. I was fighting the reality around me that I was losing him. His words reverberated in my mind when I would lay my head on my pillow at night, staring up at the moon who guarded us both and I knew that we could make it. We had a chance.

        The paper envelope had sat under my pillow as I safeguarded it. My ticket to freedom. An application to Juilliard. The thought of putting myself out there and being rejected was gut-wrenching, but I knew that I had to try.

        I had to jump and risk falling.

----

         The repetitive giggle of my mother's voice as she listened to one of Tim's tales from his trip to South America back in the day was beginning to drill into my skull. Dinner with the Beaumonts was becoming a nightly feeling of dread, as though I were being lead to the Gallows and not to a four-course meal.

    "Dad, not this one again!" Bodhi retorted to his father, pleading with Mom to tell the Grand Canyon story.

      Thank God for Bodhi. Without him, I would have stuck a fork in my eye by now. My legs were aching to dance, and my hands were lost as I fiddled with my silver cutlery. I was stuck still, stagnant, wishing to flow like a river.

    "It's a Bennett classic!" Mom assured Tim and Clara as they held on to hear the story that I can guarantee is not a classic by any means.

    It was revolting seeing the facade that our family put up, like a puppet show. We were not the 'American dream' family. We were not fine. We were not dandy. We were a wreck.

     Benjamin sat smugly next to Dad like they were plotting their next manoeuvre to make my life even more miserable. His eyes would meet mine as I glared intermittently in his direction and as my glare chilled him to his core, he would shuffle in his seat, uncomfortable and wishing I would look elsewhere but I continued, glad I had the desired effect.