Rock Bottom

Chapter Thirteen: Smooth as Chunky Peanut Butter.

"Hello?" I hold my cell phone up to my ear.

"Hey sweetheart, it's Miranda," the familiar sound of her gentle voice is like a breath of fresh air. "I just wanted to know how you're making out. I thought I would let you get settled in first before calling. It's been a while since I've talked to you. I'm afraid I just couldn't wait any longer."

"It's been too long, Mandy," I start to choke on my words. "I've missed you a lot."

"Oh honey, I missed you too. How has it been living with your aunt and uncle?" I hear her sniffle and I know she's shed a few of her own tears.

"It's been a bit of a rollercoaster ride. Some days are good and others aren't so much. Plus they are making me talk to a therapist. I absolutely hate it."

"It's expected to have some bad days. As for the therapist, it might be a good idea. Don't turn your nose up to the idea right away. I know you aren't one to talk about you're feelings, but in this situation it can really help," Miranda sighs. "I'm assuming you heard about the trial though?"

"Yeah," I mutter not knowing what else to say.

"It's not your fault, you know?" She adds.

"Yeah."

"Listen to me," Mandy days sternly this time. I can imagine what she looks like right based on the tone of her voice. She's probably sitting in the arm chair by the phone with her boney fingers gripped onto the edge of the arm rest.

I remember when I was eight I was driving my bike down Riverside. My front tire hit a rock and I lost control. I went flying off the bike hurtling into the grass. My brand new Disney princess shirt that my dad had given me for my birthday was covered in dirt and blood stains from my bashes nose. I felt so bad that I ruined his gift. I regretfully dragged my bike to my neighbours house. I remember Mandy helped mend my scrapped knees and wash me up. She sat me down at the table when I started to cry about how I was a horrible daughter for destroying such a wondering present. Mandy grabbed the edge of the table and stared me in the eyes.

"It is not your fault. You don't blame yourself for an accident. Your dad is just going to be happy that you are okay. We do not cry over things we can not control," she told me. I had never seen her so serious. She was almost angry for beating myself up over something unintentional. I know for a fact that's what she looks like now.

"Kayla Marie Johnston, you listen to me right now. I don't know exactly what happened that night. What I do know is he was driving at God knows what hour when he got in the accident. Which means he was probably picking you up from somewhere. Since that other driver didn't take the downfall I know for a fact you are twisting everything up to blame yourself. You're father has gone out at all hours of the night to pick you up or to come back from a friends before. All those other times nothing bad happened. Just because something completely unpredictable occurred this time it doesn't mean there is someone to blame. Sometimes life kicks us in the ass. How are  you ever suppose to recover if you keep kicking yourself over it too?"

At this point I'm a blubbering mess. I'm gasp for air through the relentless sobs trying to claw their way up my throat. Every time I try to speak obnoxiously loud hiccups cut me off. Mandy waits patiently until I've calmed down.

"I just miss him," I explain.

"We all miss him. I know you do more than anyone. I'm not so sure you know it's not your fault. There is nothing I can do to help you. You're the one who has to forgive yourself. I can't do it for you," Mandy tells me sadly. I ponder the possibility for a mere second before wiping it from my mind.

"I met a boy," I blurt out instead to change the subject.

"Tell me all about it," she cheers up. I explain everything from how we met to how he asked me on a date. I explain every detail from bumping into him at the ice cream store. Mandy was speechless when I told her about my bravery at the Surf Shack.