Fix me

Chapter 22

Song on the side.......................................................................................................................................................



Chapter 22

When I awoke the next morning at 6:56, Hunter was still asleep a foot away from me. He was snoring lightly with one hand on his stomach, his mouth open slightly, and his cheek smashed against his pillow. I smiled a little, seeing him like I've never before. He looked . . . tranquil. Like nothing could touch him.

My hand seemed to move without my thinking. I brushed some hair away from his face. He mumbled something and stirred a little, but other than that, he was still. I traced his features with my fingers, allowing myself to do something I wouldn't have if he was awake. My finger glided over his eyebrows, soothing over the thick hairs, his eyelids, fluttering softly with silent dreams, his nose, crooked and long, and finally, his lips.

My eyebrows came together in concentration as my thumb soothed over his bottom lip, cautious, knowing that at any time he could wake up. When he didn't, I grazed my fingers against his cheek, soothing over it with my palm. "What are you doing to me?" I whispered. There was no answer, only his deep, even breaths. I sighed, closing my eyes and running my hand through his hair over and over.

I don't know how long I lay there, my fingers absently going through his hair until I heard him moan and mumble, "Mmmhmm, that feels good."

My eyes snapped open and my fingers paused. Hunter's easy gaze met mine, laughing silently. "Sorry," I said, pulling my hand away. He caught it lightly and my heart pounded in my chest when he brought it to his mouth and kissed the bottom of my palm, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Don't be." He whispered. He entwined our fingers together and rested them between us on the blankets. Just when I thought I could finally relax and enjoy just being there with Hunter, his eyebrows crunched together and he frowned.

"What?" I asked, instantly confused. Had I done something wrong?
"What happened to your face?" he asked and I had no idea what he was talking about until I remembered my split lip and bruises.

I was instantly alert, sitting up and touching my bottom lip, feeling the cut skin. Hunter pushed himself up and sat next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder and turning me to face him. "Violet?" he asked.

He hadn't seen me in the dark last night. He hadn't known about the price I had to pay for sticking up to Jeremy. I was so stupid. I should have known that he would have questioned me about it as soon as he saw.

"I thought you weren't going to see him anymore." He said, moving up my bangs and hissing when he saw yet another cut there. "I can't let him do this to you. Do you know how much it hurts me to see you like this? And this isn't even the first time. Did you really think that I believed that bullshit story you told me about falling down the stairs or forgot about what you said happened at the basketball game?" He sounded angry now and I didn't know what to do.

I tangled my fingers together so hard that the tips turned purple and my knuckled turned white. I but my tongue, thinking thinking thinking. Neither one of us said anything for four minutes. I had lost feeling in the tips of my fingers and I was too anxious to care. I couldn't lie to him again. He obviously knew there was something going on. There was nothing I could say to make this better.

His hand closed around mine and he untangled my fingers, holding onto them gently. "Violet," he spoke, the first one to break the silence. "Why do you do this to yourself? Why can't you just tell me who it is? I could stop him. I could-."

"I don't need your help." I cut him off, staring at our hands, tears threatening to fall.

He gripped my fingers tighter. "Don't you dare do that," He hissed. "Don't act like you don't want me to help. You're not allowed to say that after everything we went through. I don't know what he said to you to scare you into keeping quiet but I won't let this happen. Dammit, this has to stop."

"You don't get it," I said, finally looking up at him. "You'll only make things worse. Just . . . let me handle this."

"Because that is working out so well so far." Hunter spat and I pulled my hands away from him.

"Can't you just trust me that everything will be alright?"

He sighed, eyes contemplating. His lips pursed together and he looked . . . conflicted. He lifted his hand and brushed my cheek with the back of his knuckles. "I trust you, Violet," he whispered. "It's him I don't."

. . .

When I walked through the front door to my house an hour later, it was silent. Only the early morning air greeted me as I closed the door silently behind me, slipping out of my shoes. My parents were still asleep. I could go back to my room and pretend I had never left the house. If I was lucky, they would never know I spent the night with Hunter.

I snuck back upstairs, removing my sweater and scarf. I was almost to my room when a voice stopped me.

"Where have you been?"

I turned around to see my mother walking out of the bathroom, still in her pajamas. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, her face red with anger.

"I-I was . . ." I tried to explain, but she put her hands up, stopping me.

"This is the second time you have done this. What is the matter with you? You have never acted like this before. You may not think of me as one anymore, but I am still your mother and I demand more respect in my house." She sighed, exasperated. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes as if she had a headache and I was the cause. "Now, you wanna tell me where you were and for how long?"

I was silent, staring at my feet, biting my tongue. I wanted to tell her. I don't know why. She would have killed me if she found out the truth. I would never be able to see Hunter again. "I was out for a walk," I lied easily, making up my mind. "I was only gone for about an hour. It's nothing to get worked up about, I promise." It tasted bitter on my tongue, foul. I was lying to the one person I used to tell everything to. All my secrets. Everything. But she wasn't that person anymore and I had to remember that.

I looked her straight in the eyes, knowing that she would suspect it was a lie if I didn't. Her eyes were hard, accusing. She crossed her arms and jutted out her hip, all serious. "You weren't with that boy again?"

I forced a smile, trying not to wince. "You mean Hunter? No, why would I see him?" His name was soft on my lips, like it was too good to be lied about. I pushed down my feelings and took a step towards my room. "Can I go now? I want to shower and change."

She looked at me like she wasn't sure what to do. I could see the struggle within her. Should she trust me? Could she? Everything had changed so much since she left. I wasn't sure if we could ever have the relationship we once had before. At that moment, that thought scared me more than anything.

After forty seconds of waiting for her to respond, I gave up, retreating to my room and closing the door. I collapsed on my desk chair, exhausted. I laid my head against the wooden top and feel asleep, escaping my mother's mistrustful gaze.

. . .

My dad woke up an hour after me at noon, well rested and clueless. My mom had not told him about my morning "walk" and for that I was thankful. I was feeling guilty about it ever since I woke up.

Hunter had texted me soon after the confrontation with my mom, asking if I got home alright. After this morning while we were still in his room, he was persistent, asking who it was, begging me to tell him so that he could put a stop to what he thought was going on. However, after realizing that I was getting upset with all the third degree, he stopped, choosing rather to ask about my mom.

I told him most of the story. That is, what I thought he needed to know. I left out the part about Jeremy and my self-harm. I told him instead that I was wasn't feeling good and I needed something to make me better so I got drunk, my mom came home, found me, and I woke up to my worried parents, arguing with each other.

When he heard that I had snuck out to go to dinner at his house, he said that I should have stayed home with my mom. When I told him about my conversation with her that night when I returned home, it only urged him to continue.

"It made it worse, coming here," he had said. "You wouldn't have fought with her. You should have stayed home and worked things out."

"There was nothing to work out," I had countered. "She left us. Obviously we weren't her first priority, so why would I be now?

"At least you have a chance to fix things. I will never have that. My mother died because of me. I will never get a chance to be mad at her, to fight with her. I would give anything to be able to have that. No matter what she did, she is still your mother. And she loves you just like you love her."

I left after that, my mind spinning, guilt gripping my heart with its sharp claws. I knew he was right. I knew that I still loved my mom, but I wasn't sure that I could get past what she did. I just wasn't that strong yet.

We had lunch that day as a family. It was just like old days, excluding Susan. Only it wasn't, not really. We never used to have periods of silence, the only sound the clinking of silverware on our plates. We never used to have unspoken thoughts, tasting bitter on our tongues. We never used to wonder how long we would be together or if the person beside you would be there tomorrow.

Dad left around 2:30 like usual, leaving with nothing but a soft spoken goodbye. Mom retired to her "room" (she had been sleeping on the couch in the living room. Dad had offered her the bed, but she refused) without a word or look in my direction.

I was left with nothing to do for the remainder of the weekend. Vanessa was getting ready for homecoming tonight, all my homework had been completed, and there were not chores to be done. Sighing, I decided to pick a book I had already read and made my way to the den, starting chapter one.

. . .

After dinner, at about seven, the doorbell rang. I was home alone. My mom had left about two hours ago, not saying where she was going or when she was coming back. I was used to this by now. Throughout the past week that she had been here, she left every day, not returning for hours. One had, she hadn't come back until well past midnight and I had been secretly terrified, wondering if she was coming back at all. I didn't know where she went for those hours. I still don't. And maybe I never will. But, as long as she came back, that was alright.

When the doorbell's chime echoed through the almost empty house, my blood turned to ice. I was in the kitchen, washing dishes and I nearly dropped the glass I was cleaning, my heart pounding in my ears. I dried my hands on my jeans, slowly making my way to the front of the house. The door loomed in front of me, menacing. I feared for the person I was sure was behind it.

I shouldn't have been afraid of Jeremy anymore. I was stood up to him. I had looked him in the eyes and curded at him, threatened him. For once, I had been in control. But now that was long gone. Whatever feelings of power I had then had fled, gone. Along with the feelings of safety I had inside my own home.

Biting my lip until it bled, I walked the final steps to the door, my hand hovering over the knob. I stood there, breath caught, frozen with familiar fear. The bell rang again, causing me to jump and finally twist the knob, opening the door.

"What took you so long to answer?" He asked, smiling slightly.

"Hunter," I breathed my voice heavy with relief. My heart rate calmed and my hand relaxed, my fingers uncurling.

He was dressed in a formal dark blue dress shirt with a dark tie to match. It was tucked into his blue jeans, without any rips, no wrinkles in it. His black dress shoes didn't have a scratch on them and he looked like he was going out to a fancy dinner. The only part of him that looked normal was his ever messy hair and gages.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

He flushed, smiling sheepishly. "Tonight is homecoming." He said, meeting my gaze, waiting for understanding to click.

"Homecoming?" I asked, realizing now why he was dressed the way he was.

He nodded. "I figured , I mean, you don't have to . . . I thought you might wanna go, but I know you probably wouldn't like the one at school so I thought . . ." he shrugged, stopping his babbling.

My stomach warmed as he held up a small radio. "You didn't have to do this," I breathed, shocked by his efforts.

"I wanted to," he said and I let him in, feeling slightly embarrassed by my empty house.

"Where are your parents?" He asked, voicing my worries.

I let him back into the kitchen and began to put away the dishes I had washed, avoiding his eyes. "My dad is at work and my mom is . . . gone."

"Gone?" He repeated, I felt him moving closer to me from behind and I gripped the plate I was holding tighter.

"She leaves sometimes during the day," I said vaguely, wincing at how odd that sounded. He was right behind me and I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck.

"Forget about her for now," He whispered, pulling the plate gently from my fingers and placing it on the counter. I let him, feeling intoxicated by his words. Forget. It was be nice for one night.

He set his radio next to the discarded dishes and switched it on, some slow song I have never heard beginning to play. Pulling on my hands softly, he turned me around to face him, smiling softly. "Dance," he said, making my bangs ruffle. I was still trying to process what was happening and so when I didn't immediately answer, he rolled his eyes playfully, placing my hands on his shoulders and pulling me closer by my waist. "Dance," he said again and we started to sway in time to the music.

"What about my mom?" I asked. "She could come back any minute."

A faster song started and Hunter twirled me around, moving rhythmically to the beat. He ignored my question.

"Why did you do this?" I pestered. "After this morning, I thought . . ." I didn't finish. Thought what exactly? That he was angry with me? I certainly didn't think that he would come to my house with his own version of a school dance.

Hunter pulled me closer. "Shh," He murmured. "Dance."

I decided to just shut up and enjoy the night. No one had ever done something like this before just for me. No one has ever gotten close enough to me to even try. Even before everything that happened with my cousin, Vanessa had never really known me inside out. She had been my best friend, almost my sister, but never knew the real me, buried so deep inside of me that I had now known it was there at all.

Hunter had unearthed it. And I was ready to explore.

I gripped onto the back of his neck tighter as another slow song began, moving closer so that our bodies were touching. I took deep, even breaths. Hunter not Jeremy Hunter not Jeremy Hunter not Jeremy. I kept repeating it to myself like a chant.

The music was soft in the background, surrounding us like it was mixed in with the air we breathed. My head rested on his chest and I closed my eyes with my fingers running through his longish, straight hair and not short, rough blonde strands. Hunter spun us around in slow circles, our feet gliding across the tiled floor. I was in jeans and an old, ratty t-shirt with my hair in a messy ponytail, yet, at that moment, I felt like Cinderella at the prince's ball.

Hunter placed his chin on the top of my head and I breathed out, loving that Jeremy was the furthest thing on my mind then. "This is nice," I said with my eyes still closed, thinking how this homecoming was a hundred times better than one at any school gymnasium.

We danced to more songs, not talking, just enjoying being near one another. It was my first dance with a boy and it was better than anything I could have ever imagined. When faster songs came on, he would twirl me around the kitchen, moving to a past pace and making me laugh.

I was basking in the feeling of not being afraid of his touch during another slow song when Hunter leaned down and whispered something in my ear that made my heart pound and everything crashing back down to earth.

"I love you, Violet."

Just four words, three that really mattered, but all I was heard was, "You know, the last time we were here was when I began to fall in love with you."

It was silent, the music a muffled noise in the background. His hands on my waist tightened a little bit, showing his nerves. He was waiting for me to respond, waiting for me to say it back. But I couldn't. Saying it would mean that I was allowed to feel that for him. It would mean that I was fixed and everything would be okay and all our problems would go away. It would mean a future and I wasn't sure if I could do that yet.

But I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I wasn't fixed and my problems wouldn't just go away. Not yet.

"Just keep dancing," I said in his ear, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my face into his shoulder.

He complied, not saying anything. But I knew there was something wrong. I felt it in the stiffness of his movements, the deep breaths through his nose, his tight grip on my waist. Guilt pierced through me, but I ignored it. I had nothing to guilty for. He had said the words. He always had to take things a step further. Why couldn't he just be happy with the way things were? Why did he always have to change everything? First it was the kiss and not this.

I squeezed my eyes shut and nuzzled closer to him. I didn't want to lose him. I wanted to stay the same and I wanted us to be like this. Couldn't he understand that?

"Violet," He said, stopping mid-step. I tried to keep going, pretend like I hadn't heard him and nothing had happened, but he grasped my upper arms, pulling away slightly to look at me. His lips were pulled down and his eyes scanned my face, searching for . . . something. His forehead crinkled and his jaw tightened a little bit, like he was thinking deeply about something.

"What?" I asked, trying to sound innocent.

He looked me over for another moment and shook his head slightly, mumbling, "Nothing."

He pulled me to him again and my stomach twisted. Jesus, how does he always do this to me? Couldn't he be like any regular guy and just . . . I didn't know. If he was a regular guy, he wouldn't have stuck around for this long.

The fact was, my feelings for him scared me and I didn't want to admit them. Not to anymore, much less him. Because I was afraid that I might . . . I couldn't even think it at that moment. It was too impossible. I was too damaged to feel things like that, too far gone.

Hunter's hand began to stroke to my hand as we continued to sway, moving around my small kitchen. My eyes fluttered closed, relaxing at his touch. I thought I heard him whisper something, but I couldn't make out what it was. I was going to ask him to repeat it when someone interrupted.

"What is going on here?"

We ripped away from each other, as if we had been burned and I tripped, nearly falling over.

My mother stood in the doorway, looking frightful with her arms crossed over her chest and her hip jutting out. She had a look on her face as if she had eaten something sour and her hair was loose, different from the bun she had when she had left this afternoon.

"Mom." I said, too stunned to think of something more clever to say.

"What is going on?" She asked again.

Hunter reached over and turned off the music, filling the air with a gut wrenching silence. He cleared his throat and took a step towards her, stretching out his hand. "Hi, you must be Mrs. Chambers. I'm Hunter. Violet's, uh, friend."

Mom stared at his hand like it was holding a grenade. She crossed her arms tighter to herself, leaning back. Her face scrunched up and her eyes darted back from me to Hunter, finally settling on him. He lowered his hand, shuffling his feet and sticking his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable.

"What are you doing in my house?" She asked, lifting her chin and looked down at Hunter like he was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

I decided to step in and save Hunter. I moved to stand beside him, taking hold of his hand. Both he and my mom looked shocked at my action, but that didn't stop me. "Mom, its fine. Hunter came over to keep me company. And this isn't your house, not anymore."

Mom opened her mouth, about to counter when Hunter interrupted her. "I should go. My aunt is probably expecting me back by now."

"I'll walk you out." I said, tugging on his hand, leading him out of the kitchen and away from my boiling mother.

He grabbed his radio and then we were alone on the hallway. When we reached the front door, Hunter let go of my hand, opening the door and turning to face me. "I'm glad I came tonight."

I snorted. "Yeah, it was absolutely perfect with a wonderful, fairytale ending."

He smirked, leaning over and moving my bangs aside, pressing his lips to my forehead. I closed my eyes as he whispered against my skin, "It was perfect." And he was right. I shouldn't be so glum about my mom coming and cutting the night short.

"Thank you," I said as he pulled away, meeting my eyes. "For everything."

With one more whispered goodnight, he was gone, the door closing behind him. I leaned against it, wanting to avoid my mother for just a little bit longer.

When I did finally go back to the kitchen, she was pacing furiously, her shoulders shaking. When she saw that I had returned, she stopped by the sinking, facing me with a stern expression. "What was he doing here?" She asked me, grabbing a dish towel and wringing it in her hands. Her voice was distant, cold. The woman I once sang songs around the campfire with, gone, replaced by a woman with loose hair and hard looks.

"I told you," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "Hunter was just keeping me company."

"Yeah, well, he looked like he was doing a lot more than that when I walked in."

My stomach twisted with anger. "He would never do anything. Maybe you would know that if you actually tried to get to know him. You just looked at him like he was some sort of . . . bug."

She threw her hands up, letting them fall down again so that they slapped against her thighs, making a loud, sharp sound. "What did you what me to do?" she asked, pressing the towel to her chest. "I come home to find a bot I don't know with my daughter in his arms. And then he was the nerve to act like everything is normal? I don't want boys here when I'm not home."

"You're never home!" I exploded, my voice echoing through the dark house. "You go out every night to do whatever it is that you do and don't come back for hours. And I'm left here, wondering." Tears began to fall and I swiped at them angrily. "Do you know that that feels like? To not know where your own mother is? It seems like you just got home after eleven damn months and you don't even stay here. All you do is leave! Do you even know how to stay anymore?" my voice was barely understandable over my tears. I was shaking and sobbing and she deflated.

"Oh, god, Honey," She reached for me, but I stepped back, wrapping my arms around myself. I looked down at my shoes, afraid of what I would see in her expression. The thing was, Jeremy wasn't the only reason I didn't want her to touch me.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" She said. Her voice shook, as if she was crying. "I-I never meant to mess up this bad. You're right to think those things about me. You're absolutely right about me. I should never have left. I loved you and your sister and your father. I still do. I guess I left because I thought I needed more in my life. The truth is, I thought there was something missing and . . . I needed to find out what it was. I was wrong to leave. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it. But I came back for a reason. I came back because I missed my family and I owed them an apology. I came back because I need you guys."

I didn't need to look at her to know that she was crying now. She sniffled and I felt . . . bad. I didn't think I could, after what she did to us. To me. I remembered what Hunter had this that morning. She was my mom and I loved her. No matter what she did, no matter how many times she screwed up, she came back. And that should have been all that mattered.

But it didn't.

"I don't know if I can forgive you," I said to her, making eye contact for the first time. "When you left, the way you left, it changed everything. How could you do that to us? To dad? He's your husband and I'm your daughter and you just left us. How can someone do that? How?"

She sucked her lips into her mouth, her cheeks stained with tears. "I don't know." She whispered. "You deserve an answer and I just don't know."

I nodded, as if I understood. "Give me time." I said, looking away again. "I just need time."

"Of course, anything." She said and then there was silence, neither one of us talking.

After a while of this, I swallowed my anger and stepped up to her, placing my hand over hers on the counter. I was surprised when Jeremy's face did not pop up right away. It was as if I was getting used to the touch of other people. It was as if there was hope for me after all.

Mom looked at me like she was going to start crying again, but smiled instead. For now, we were okay. For now, we could forget about the past and just start over as mother and daughter. I couldn't believe how much relief I got from that thought.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Mom said, reaching into her purse. "You'll never guess who I ran into tonight on the way home." She rummaged around some more and finally found what she was looking for. She straightened, holding whatever it was in her hand.

"Who?" I asked, curious.

"You're cousin, Jeremy! Oh, I haven't seen him in such a long time," She went on to gush about how well of a man he grew up to be, but I was barely listening. My stomach had sunk and my ears were ringing. Jeremy had been close by. How close? And what did he want with my mom? I had assumed he was at homecoming with everyone else or with his basketball friends. Had I been wrong?

"Anyway," Mom said, interrupting my thoughts. "He gave me a copy of his homecoming picture. And I thought, isn't that your friend Vanessa?"

I gripped the picture from her hand and scanned it. Indeed, standing next to my cousin with a dazzling smile and a knee length, pretty purple dress was my worst nightmare.

Vanessa, what did you get yourself into?

Dear Jeremy, will you ever be done?