How to Save Someone Like Me

Talk To Me

.
.
.

I woke up around 9:00 P.M. from the smell of food wafting into my room. I blindly stood up and carefully walked downstairs without opening my eyes and into the kitchen.
"Mother, I demand a bowl or plate of that delicious food you are creating," I said in a bold monotone voice.
I could hear soft laughter, but it didn't sound like my mom's.

"Open your eyes, dingus. It's me, Eric." I slowly peeked my left eye open to see my math classmate, Eric Kerns, standing behind the stove with a Seahawks cap on his fluffy brown hair.
"Woah, what are you doing here?" I asked and backed away. He huffed and held up a pot filled to the brim with boiling broth and vegetables in it.
"My mom wanted to stop by and cook dinner for your folks because apparently someone's mom won 'Author Mother Of The Year'. "
I face palmed as he spoke. My mother is a book fanatic, I must admit. Her and a group of women created this book club based on romance novels or something like that. She even asked me to join, but if course I respectfully declined. And by respectfully, I mean spending the weekend at my old friend's place until I calmed down. I shamefully looked away, then back to the soup.

"So, what were you saying about my cooking?" He chuckled and showed off his pearly whites before turning the stove top off. I rolled my eyes and held my hand up as he set down another plate next to the other four. He raised an eyebrow to my gesture, to which I sighed and avoided his gaze.
"My, uh, dad isn't here." I stammered, trying to find the right words.
"Oh, we can just wait till he gets here. " He responded, and set the plate back down. I grabbed it and shoved it back in the shelf.
"What was that for?" He asked, grabbing my wrist before I tried to turn and leave. I cautiously tilted my head left and right to make sure if anyone was there, then started dragging him out through the front doorway and onto the sidewalk.

"We can't talk about him in there," I whispered to him, harsh but not too harsh.
"Who? Your dad? Why not?" I looked up and shot him an angry look before unlocking the gate to the backyard.

"My mom doesn't allow me to speak about him." I sighed before walking to the patio and sitting down in a dark blue lawn chair. His expression softened and he sat down next to me in a light green one.
"Did he... do something to your family?" He asked. I cupped both sides of my face and looked down.
"That's none of your business." I murmured. The silent tension grew after, making the chirping of the crickets seem louder than usual.

"Y'know, my dad was an asshole, too. He would always come home drunk and then yell at my mom and I, but for some reason he would never stay to finish the 'conversation'. He would always disappear for days, just him and that stupid truck." He laughed lightly and brought his gaze up to the stars, letting them reflect off his dark brown eyes. I paused and started to fiddle with my thumbs.
"Dads are jerks." I mumbled. We both looked at each other for a moment before chuckling.
"Yeah, dads are jerks. But I guess that's why we have moms, right?" I started to get flashbacks of anonymouspillowstar's rant. I shivered and tucked my hands into my pockets, wondering if I should tell him or not.
"I guess so." I said, looking back up at the sky. It felt nice, just two kids having a chat about jerk dads while being able to enjoy the comfort of the outside world.
"You can tell me, though."
I quickly snapped back to reality and faced him. "Tell you what?"
"About your dad. I get it if you don't want to talk about him though, painful memories and all."
Painful memories? Painful. Memories. Oh sure, that's what they are. Just painful memories!
I furrowed my brow and tried not to hiss my words out in anger.
"No, I can't. And it's not because of the 'painful memories'," I mocked, " it's because I-"

Silence.

"Because you what?" I shook my head, trying to ignore the stinging from my eyes. I stood up too quickly, and leaned against the house wall for support.
"Hey, hey, listen, you can talk to me." He said in a comforting tone as he helped me off the wall.
"You can talk to me." A woman's voice echoed through my head.

"No... I don't want you to get hurt.." I whispered under my breath.
"What? What are you talking about?" I looked up at him and felt a tear drop out of my eye. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and set me back down on the chair.
"Whatever you tell me, I can guarantee that I will not get hurt," he sat back down, except this time scooting the chair closer to mine.

"I-I just can't..."
"Yes you can. Please, you just need to talk to me."
"Eric, no." I shook my head faster.
"Tell me, just tell me."
"I said I can't."
"Listen to me! You just need to talk-"
"You want to know why, Eric? Huh? Do you?" My head whipped around as I raised my voice. He nodded his head and mouthed the word "yes".
"Its because the last time I talked to someone about myself, she killed herself!" I yelled. I quickly covered my mouth and gasped, feeling more angry tears stream down my face.
Eric kept looking at me with wide eyes before pulling me into a warm embrace.
"I-I'm so sorry." He said as I continued to sob into his shoulder.
"She t-told me that I c-could talk to her a-about anything," I spoke in between sobs. "Who's she?" He asked, still hugging me.
"M-My old therapist," I said, calming down a little. I broke apart the hug and wiped more tears from my face. I took a couple more deep breaths before I finally felt stable enough to bury my face in my hands. He sighed and started patting the top of my head. I paused and looked back up at him.
"What are you doing?" I asked, looking at his arm. He quickly took his hand off my head and started to pink a little.
"Trying to...comfort you?"
"By petting me?" I questioned, laughing. "See? It's working already!" He grinned and nudged my shoulder.
"Is not, I'm still extremely depressed from you sending me back to a 'painful memory'." I mocked again, but this time making him giggle. We both continued another 30 seconds in comfortable silence before he spoke again.
"But you do know that you can talk to me, right? I don't want you to feel like you can't just because of something bad that happened in your past." I shrugged and gave him a small smile.
"Yeah, I guess I can."

.
.
.

"Bye, Cindy. See you at yoga tomorrow!" My mom yelled to Eric's mom from the door to the parking lot.
"Bye, Ms. Kerns! Bye, Eric!" I shouted to both of them, receiving both waves. We watched them drive out of the lot in their black Mazda before heading back inside.

"So, Eric seems like a nice boy."

"Don't push it, Mom."

Woohoo 1266 words oof I'm so proud of myself :DDDD