One Wrong Turn

Chapter Three- Not Much of a Life Story

"So, my friend, tell me more about yourself," Jacqueline said loudly to me from the other room. I was sitting on the couch in her parent's living room, while she got a replacement shirt, one without coffee all down the front of it.

"I can't say there's much to tell," I began, "my life is one of the less interesting ones you'll ever hear about."

"I don't believe that for a second," She stated, as she walked out of her room in a fresh t-shirt. "Everyone has a story. So tell me yours."

"Well, uh, where do I start? It's not like I've told anyone my life story before." Now I was getting nervous. How was I supposed to throw together a miniature presentation in my head with a time limit of only about two minutes? And on a terrible subject, too.

"Just start at the beginning," she suggested.

"The beginning? You mean my birth and all that?"

"I suppose."

"I was born to Cynthia and Dean Becker on August thirteenth, I weighed six pounds and four ounces. My first word was-" I began, until I was cut off by Jacqueline.

"August thirteenth? That's today."

I nodded. "My eighteenth birthday."

She raised an eyebrow, and motioned for me to continue.

"My first word was Exactly, and I think I was pretty well behaved for my parents. But apparently that's too much of a hassle, because my dad left when I was four."

I took a breath in. "A few years later, my mom turned to alcohol to serve as her problem solver. I got put in therapy at fourteen. School stressed me too much. I thought if I could prove to my mom I was perfect, I would be good enough. I got homeschooled, and slowly got even worse than I was before therapy."

At that, Jacqueline's eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth downturned. She bit her lip, and I continued.

"Then, I decided to throw myself off of a bridge, and I was interrupted by a girl with coffee all over her shirt."

I usually wouldn't open up to someone like that, but there was something about Jacqueline. She had something that made me want to trust her. I felt like I could tell her anything, even the tiniest detail.

So I did. Everything I could tell about what I remembered, I told. And she listened. And she cared. Stopping me every so often to ask a question, commenting on something, or just nodding along.

"What about your life story?" I asked.

"It's not a big thing.... Just keep telling me about you, okay?" She seemed uncomfortable. I didn't want to make her upset at me, so I quickly changed the subject back to something relating to my life, or lack thereof.

Before I knew it, it was dark outside, and I didn't want to go back home. I think she sensed that, because as I was going to gather up my strength enough to admit to myself I had to go, she offered for me to stay.

"Your parents won't mind?"

"Oh, they're on vacation," she said quickly. I immediately felt like I said the wrong thing. Embarrassment and regret quickly took over my face.

She made me a bed on the couch, and went to her room. On her way, she turned back to me and said, "Goodnight, Eddie."

I responded, "Goodnight, Jacqueline."

I laid awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the events of the day. I turned. Nothing helped, I couldn't sleep. After about an hour, she came out to the kitchen. She turned on a small corner light, and rubbed her eyes. Then she saw I was awake.

"Eddie?" She mumbled, half asleep.

"Yes?" I whispered, careful not to be too loud.

"Why are you still awake?" She inquired. And for that question, I had no good answer, so I just went with, "because celery."

She shook her head, and poured a glass of water. Then she came over to the couch. I sat upright and she sat next to me, taking sips every three seconds. The white light from the kitchen shone on her brown hair, and she yawned at me.

"So..." I began, without much of a sentence to follow up with.

"So..." She continued, and then took a sip of water.

"Have you ever wondered how strange people's feelings are?" I asked, the question popping into my head out of nowhere. "One moment, you're fine, the next, you're having a mental breakdown. You can go from happy to sad in under a minute, and you never know when it'll happen."

"That's an interesting topic for discussion... I can't actually say I've ever thought about it deeply," Jacqueline answered.

"Neither have I, really. I was just wondering."

"Well if you want," she yawned out, "we can talk more about this tomorrow. But right now, I'm pretty tired, so I think I'm going to get some sleep."

"Okay. I think I'll try to as well."

And after talking to her, I had some sort of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Even if it wasn't, it was when she was with me. This is weird. I don't like people. Why do I have the urge to keep her so close? These were the things running through my mind when I fell asleep.