California Dreaming

Chapter Nineteen

   I lay in my bed, the quilt my grandmother had knitted for me creased around my slim frame as I felt the thick wool between my fingertips. There was something about the dusty pink flower patterns embroidered into the cream fabric, the pastel blue border, knitted using the thick yarn I used to play with as a young child in my grandma’s bedroom. I lifted it up to my face and inhaled the musty, lavender scent, closing my eyes and letting a deep breath out. That smell, and the touch of the wool, reminded me of a better time, back when I didn’t need to worry about boyfriends or stalkers. 

   I hated feeling like this, feeling sorry for myself, it made me look pathetic. But what was I supposed to do? Pick myself up, brush myself down and get on with my life? It was not that simple, I wish to God it was. I opened my eyes again, letting the light, which was seeping through the breaks in my curtains, make my eyes ache. I traced the sharp lines of the glow in the dark stars I had stuck to my ceiling on arriving at the new house. 

   Standing up on the bed, I reached up to the largest star, tucking my fingernails underneath the plastic and tugging until it fell down onto the bed, along with what was hidden beneath it. I sat cross legged on top of my creased sheets, with the paper wrapping flat against my left palm. I tipped out some of the weed onto the paper and rolled it up into a joint, holding it between my lips as I reached under my bed for a box of matches. I struck a match against the side, watching the head light up before setting fire to the end of the spliff. I shook the match out and opened my window, leaning out of it and inhaling the fresh air as it began to cleanse my mind. It was a habit I hand’t indulged in for months, not since I had first returned to California. 

   I rolled the joint between my thumb and finger, as I took deep inhalations of the smoke, immediately feeling more at ease, despite all that had happened. The disposable phone my father had got for me, to replace the one I had smashed at Henry’s, began to bleep. I was tired of all of this, the relentless mind games. I held the joint in the corner of my mouth and reached across my bed to where the phone sat, on the old, leather chest at the foot of my bed. I opened the text message and cocked my head to the side expectantly, taking another puff from the joint. Holding the phone out of the window as I knelt on my bed, reading the text from an only too familiar number. He didn’t want to be anonymous, he wanted me to know what he was doing. 

   “What’s with all the weed, Jia. A clever girl like you should know better ;)xxxxxxoxox.” 

   I clenched my jaw and began to bite the inside of my mouth in agitation. Harry’s delusions were never ending, and maybe it was better that I just accepted that now. 

   “What can I say? It’s a bad habit.” 

   I dumped the phone down on my bed covers and held the joint in my lips again, holding my weight up using my arms as I pulled myself up onto the window sill, until I was perched on the ledge. My legs swung through the air and my fingers curled over the white plastic overhang. I loved the feeling of the Californian sun, soaking into my bare legs and arms, the light catching my cheekbones and my forehead, bathing me in this light. I let the addictive smoke pollute my lungs and rolled my head back on my shoulders, feeling it click at points from the tension I had been holding all of these years. 

   What was the point of all this? Living and loving and laughing is all very well, but if all that is only brief, if you know that there is something which will inevitably end all of that, what’s the point in the first place? This was cynical of me, I know, but one of us had to end this, something was going to have to happen. I knew that Harry was not going to go down without a fight. 

   I pulled my legs up to my chest and made sure I was balanced, before slowly standing up, with my toes over the window ledge. Once my back was fully extended, I held onto the top of the window with my fingers, making sure I was steady as I looked out over my garden, across into the neighboring houses and the ares where I had grown up. I slowly raised my arms from my sides, feeling the breeze brush the underside of my arms and lift my fine, wispy hair from my shoulders. I closed my eyes and rolled the joint between my lips, shifting my foot forward the tiniest bit on the ledge. One step could end all of this, one step and I could be at peace from all of this bullshit. 

   I took a deep breath and held the joint between my first two fingers, twirling it slowly as I counted down from three inside my head. I was going to do this. I let my weight lean forward slightly, ready to let gravity take it’s toll and pull me down to earth. 

   “Jia!” My mum’s voice broke me from my daze and I dropped back down so I was sitting on the window ledge, stubbing out the end of the spliff and flicking it off the edge, watching it fall into the flower bed that lined the back of the house. I heard my bedroom door open and turned back, tapping my fingernails against the plastic window sill. 

   “Oh my God, Jia,” Leila sighed, rushing to the window and throwing herself onto my bed, wrapping her arms around me desperately. I couldn’t help but smile in relief, that she had reached me before I had done anything as stupid as killing myself. 

   “I’m okay,” I sighed, brushing my fingers through her long, dark hair, “I’m okay.”

   Once she had let go of me, I hauled myself back through the window, tumbling across the bed only to be picked up by someone considerably bigger than Leila. 

   “Why didn’t you tell us, baby,” Henry cooed, hugging his strong arms around me, making me feel so completely safe, it was hard to believe anything had ever gone wrong. He kissed my cheek comfortingly, lovingly, and my forehead creased as I realized how utterly stupid I had been. 

   “I’m sorry,” I apologized, beginning to sob and hugging my arms desperately around his muscular chest, feeling him hold me securely. “I just,” I paused, taking gulps of air, “I was scared and it made it less real if I didn’t talk about it.” I confessed, finally pulling away and collapsing down onto my bed. Henry sat down at my desk chair and Leila besides me, her arm around me as she kissed my cheek reassuringly. 

   “Nothing can justify what he did to you,” she assured me. 

   “And to Gabes,” Henry pointed out. 

   “You are completely the victim here,” she reminded me and I nodded slowly, letting a single, regretful tear roll across my cheek. I brushed it away quickly. 

   “Gabriel did so much for me,” I frowned, “and all I did was get him stabbed.” 

   “Dude, he did what he did because he loves you, you didn’t force this on him,” Henry said earnestly. “I would have done the same if I was there, even if it did mean getting stabbed, you both survived, right?” 

   “I guess so,” I nodded, my forehead creased because that was still what I did not understand, why he had not killed me. 

   “We just came from the hospital,” Leila explained. “Gabriel seems okay, he’s getting better, won’t stop asking about you though! Man he’s worried,” she giggled, and I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him.  

   “I was going to visit him tomorrow,” I nodded, feeling guilty for not having seen him today. 

   “You need to rest,” she disagreed, rubbing her hand up and down my arm. 

   “He’s the one that got stabbed,” I shook my head. 

   “You’re the one that nearly got stabbed, for the second time!” Henry chuckled and I grinned at him, shrugging. 

   “And got arrested,” Leila pointed out. 

   “When can he go home?” I wondered .

   “Friday,” Leila replied, “we’ll have to plan some huge blow out party!” 

   “Yeah,” I agreed, “apart from he’ll probably still be high off the pain meds.” 

   “Even better!” Henry exclaimed. “Maybe he’ll share!” I began to laugh and Leila hugged me again, squeezing my hand comfortingly. Everything seemed like it was going back to normal, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew he was watching. I knew he wouldn’t give up that easily, he was just waiting for the right moment.