Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) (33 page)

“Drop the drama, Ade,” Tristan says, shoving a croissant in his mouth. “She’s fine now.”

Picking up a crueler, I pull a bite off and pop it into my mouth. My parents aren’t amused. My mother taps her long, manicured nails on the glass-top patio table, while my father sits back, and crosses his arms over his chest.

I sit down next to Tristan, pulling Kathryn down onto my lap. “Kathryn, these are my parents, Chet O’Donnell and Tamara O’Donnell. You’ve met Tristan, my dickhead brother.”

“What do you want, Dre?” my father asks, sternly.

“Well, ya know that ‘pay off’ we talked about? I’ve decided what I want.” I say, glancing at Tristan. “Ya know for my silence.”

“Your father and I talked it over, figuring that this little gold-digging hussy would talk you into trying to get something out of us. We decided you’re getting nothing from us. Not one penny Adrian,” my mother states firmly.

“Really? Is that so?” I ask, hating whom my family has become. “Babe, do you have your phone?” Kathryn nods; smiling, she takes it out of her bra and hands it to me. My mother gasps at the sight of Kathryn taking a phone out of her undergarments. I laugh, loving how perfect Kathryn is.

“I think that before you decide against bargaining with me, you should probably hear this,” I say, hitting play.

There isn’t a sound or word spoken as my family watches the video on Kathryn’s phone. They are speechless when they see Leah’s face, but are destroyed when they hear her words:

“Hi Mr. and Mrs. O’Donnell and assfuck Tristan. I’m glad you’re all together. As you can see, I’m outside the police station. In this folder, I have the pictures of my face when Tristan beat the shit out of me. See? Also, you can see the bank statements of when you paid me for my silence. Anyway, Adrian and Kathryn, Hi Kathryn, anyway, they convinced me to turn you in Tristan, and I’m going to … if you don’t give Adrian what he wants. He’s got my number on speed dial. I’m going in to the station the second he calls. Thanks Adrian. Good Luck. Kathryn call me!”

“Such a sweet girl,” I say, grinning. “How could you let that one get away T?”

“Why you little—”

“Are you sure you wanna do that, Mr. O’Donnell?” Kathryn asks, taunting him with the video on her phone.

“Chet, let him go,” my mother commands. “We’ve got enough to deal with right now. Just write the bastard a check and be done with it … with him.”

“I’m glad we’re all in agreement,” I say, smiling. “It’s so much better when everyone just gets along.” Kathryn giggles, covering her mouth.

“How much?” my dad asks defeated, as Tristan storms off.

“Funny you should ask that …”

It’s been exactly two years ago today when Dre changed my life, gave it meaning. (I call him “Dre” now, too.) Dre walked into my hospital room as I waited for my parents to come get me to take me back to my Hellish family sentence. He wasn’t alone. As soon as I saw her, I knew she had to be the
Cider House Rules
girl. Dre had explained her to a tee. She was more beautiful than I’d imagined. I often imagined him finally happy, finally in love, and away from the constraints of our lifestyle. Dre was not meant for our lifestyle; he’s too good for it, if we’re being honest.

“Hey kiddo,” Dre said, walking in holding her hand. “I want you to meet Kathryn.”

Kathryn was sweet, kind, and intelligent. I loved her instantly, especially the way she dressed. I’ve always just wanted to wear jeans and a t-shirt with my hair in a ponytail. But my mom would never let me. WTF? Who doesn’t let their teenage daughter wear jeans and t-shirts? My mom, that’s who!

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Kathryn said, smiling sweetly. Kathryn even has a dimple. I always wanted a dimple. My mom once told me that I should be glad I didn’t have one, because she would’ve gotten me plastic surgery to get rid of it. A dimple people! Do you see what I’ve been dealing with?

“We just booked our flight back to Charleston,” Dre explained. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

The words broke me. I tried to be strong, pretend like I didn’t care, but it didn’t work. I caved. I cried and sobbed like a damn baby. I couldn’t stop myself; at that point, I didn’t even want to stop myself.

“Please Dre. Please,” I begged. “You just can’t. Please. You can’t go home. Not yet. Not without me. Please.”

Wrapping me in his arms, he kissed my head, and said, “You’re right kiddo, I can’t go home … not without you.”

And that’s it. Dre and Kathryn flew back to Charleston the next morning, getting things ready. Then, Dre came back to New Hampshire the following week when I was released from the hospital. Dre took me to our parents’ house to pack my stuff, while my mom bitched and moaned about this and that.

My dad pounded me on the back, and said, “Good luck at boarding school, young lady.”

Oh yeah, that was the lie. My parents couldn’t bear to tell their friends and frenemies that I’d chosen my drifter brother over them, so they fabricated a Swiss Boarding School that specialized in troubled adolescents. As much as they tried, they couldn’t keep the suicide attempt under wraps.

My psychiatrist was thrilled that Dre was taking me in. He’d heard enough to know that living with my parents and Tristan wasn’t a healthy environment for me. My doctor was pleased that Dre had a medical background and the connections in Charleston to find me a good therapist.

Dre and I have been living in a two-bedroom apartment near the beach. He screwed around for a year as a “homeless” guy, but what he never told anyone is that in the safe at Rory’s hotel he had almost 500 grand. Dre’s not an idiot. He may not like money and what it stands for and all that jazz. But he knows damn well that people need it. Dre pays for my college, my health insurance, and for basically anything else we need.

I like to think we’re rolling in the dough; he gets pissed when I say that though. Dre and Tristan both got 250 grand for high school graduation and another 250 at college graduation. That’s where I got screwed. I got a card that said, “Congratulations Graduate, move back home and you’ll get your money.”

Screw the money. My parents never got it. Money buys a shit-ton of things, but it doesn’t buy happiness, never came close to buying my happiness. It never bought me friends who looked beyond my clothes and designer labels. Money never bought me a boyfriend who didn’t want to grope and claw away at me any chance he got. It never bought me parents who cared more about me than their precious fortune.

Living with Dre, I’ve learned so much. It’s amazing whom he’s become—especially since I know firsthand where he’s from. Kathryn, Dre, and I help out at the homeless shelter a lot. I don’t go down there as much as Dre does, but when I do, I learn something new, something valuable every time. When he first told me that he spends his Tuesday and Friday nights at the homeless shelter, I laughed at him for being a loser who scooped soup and swept floors.

Dre looked at me like he was going to cry, disappointment flooding his face. He shook his head and said, “No amount of work or kindness is beneath me, Pipe.”

Well, that was it for me. I couldn’t have the only person who ever inspired and loved me to be disappointed in me. I started going with him. It was the most incredible and worthwhile learning experience. In my lifetime, I’ve met some of the richest, most privileged people, but yet they’re still so pessimistic, negative, and sometimes downright ruthless. On the other hand, recently, I’ve met people who have nothing, virtually nothing more than the clothes on their backs, and they are the most kind, generous, and hopeful people I’ve ever encountered. It’s truly amazing.

My friends, back home, used to ask me how I could’ve tried to end my life when I had “everything.” Like I said, money can get you a pretty, shiny, plush exterior, but it certainly doesn’t matter what the outside looks like if the inside is empty and alone.

Many times when I first got here and Dre went with me to therapy, he constantly asked me why. He really wanted to know why I did it. My answer never satisfied him; it still doesn’t. Honestly, I just didn’t know what else to do. People always talk about how suicide is selfish and that the person wasn’t thinking about their family at the time. That’s just a stupid thing to say. Obviously since the person committed suicide, he’s dead, so you never honestly get the real answer. The real answer for me was that I did think about it—a lot—for months on end.

I thought about how my father wouldn’t have to pay for my college, my wedding, or anything else. I thought about how my mom wouldn’t have to wake up each morning when I went to school to make sure I was really going. I thought about how she wouldn’t have to compare me to Tristan and Adrian every chance she got, being disappointed in who I was. I thought about how I needed to do it in the guesthouse bathroom, so my mom wouldn’t have too much to clean up and that the blood wouldn’t ruin anything.

I thought about how Tristan would finally be the center of my parents’ world—something he’s always wanted. I thought about how my friends at school wouldn’t feel like they had to compete with me anymore and try to “one up” me every day. I thought about how I wouldn’t be such a drain and burden on my friends and family anymore. I did think about them; I wasn’t being selfish at all. I thought I was doing them all a favor.

The only person who made me pause and try to reconsider this escape was Dre. I knew it would crush him. As far as brothers go, Dre’s the greatest anyone could ever ask for. But when my parents denied my dream of moving to Charleston for college, I knew I needed out—out of the Hell that was my life. I just couldn’t find a way out. I was desperate for a way out, and I didn’t know how or where to get one.

Being seventeen, I didn’t realize there was one. I didn’t know Dre was going to give me that way out. I just knew I was suffocating and felt like I was trapped.

That night, when I broke the razor apart from the plastic container, and I held it to my wrist, I knew one thing: I wanted out.

But there was so much I didn’t know. I didn’t know how connected I was going to feel when I sat at dinner nearly every night, laughing with Rory, Sydney, Kathryn and Dre. I didn’t know how special it would feel when the three of us got the word “Everything” tattooed on the arch of our foot. (Dre wouldn’t let me get it on my lower back.)

I didn’t know how at home and loved I was going to feel when Dre let me hide at the fair, taking pictures of the moment he proposed to Kathryn on the carousel. (I told him that the pictures would turn out blurry since the ride was in motion. He didn’t believe me.)

The proposal was hysterical. She screamed and batted at his hand, freaking out and crying. The ring went flying off the carousel. The ride controller had to stop the ride. People everywhere were on their hands and knees looking for the ring. Some little boy found the ring, knelt down, and put the ruby ring on Kathryn’s finger, while Dre smiled, proudly. (I got pictures of all of that.)

The ruby ring with diamonds all around it is beautiful. Dre and I together decided that since Kathryn was one-of-a-kind that the ring had to be too. We’ve all come to realize that you don’t get to choose your family, but they’re a part of you, your past, your present and your future; you just have to learn to accept them for who they are—and love them the best that you can. That’s why we chose the ruby—after Kathryn’s mom. Sure, they’ve had their ups and downs—just like any carousel of life. But Kathryn and her mom are connected forever—just like Dre and Kathryn will be.

There were so many other things that I didn’t know that night, alone in that bathroom with the razor blade in my hand. I didn’t know how much I’d love helping Kathryn shop for a wedding gown and my bridesmaid dress, feeling like she was the sister I never had and couldn’t wait to have. I didn’t know what it would feel like to spend long weekend afternoons shopping and bonding with her while Dre was at work. I would’ve missed out on all of that. I wouldn’t have gotten to see true love and true beauty up close.

I didn’t know how bashful I was going to feel the first time Kathryn introduced me to Jose, and my heart like literally stopped for a second. (I still haven’t told my parents about the wonderful Hispanic boy I’m dating. I’ll save that for later—much later.) Jose has taught me so many things. I’ve not only learned how to love someone unconditionally; I’ve learned how to let him love me.

I didn’t know how magical it was going to feel the first time Jose kissed me by the waterfall at Ariss’ Oasis, with water splashing over us. I didn’t know how beautiful I was going to feel when Jose and I danced at our senior prom under the moonlight.

I didn’t know how excited I was going to feel when Lanette gave me my first hostess paycheck. I didn’t know how proud and intelligent I was going to feel when my college professor told me that my paper was the most profound piece of writing he’s ever read. I didn’t know. Had no idea. I didn’t know there were small snippets of wonderful that made life worth fighting for, worth living for.

I certainly didn’t know how completely happy I’d feel every night I went to bed and could hear Dre and Kathryn talking in the other room when he got home late from his shifts at the hospital. I didn’t know what happiness felt like. I know now. And I’ll tell you this, it’s incredible. I’ll never go back to that isolation, that pain. I know what the other side looks like now. It’s a place I never want to go back to. I used to think that I couldn’t go home, but the truth is, I can go anywhere as long as I have happiness and love. But geez, was that a hard lesson to learn.