Delicate (16 page)

As the door closes, I pull my knees up to my chest and sob. My hair has fallen out of the ponytail holder and has mixed with tears, matting it to my face just as the rain had earlier. Did he really just walk out without even checking on me?

Everything aches. My head. My ribs. My arms. Even my face hurts. I can’t remember a time when everything felt as out of control as it does right now. Not even after mom died. That was out of my hands. There was nothing to do but grieve. Now. This. This is my own doing, and I feel completely helpless to stop it.

The first argument Trevor and I ever had was after we’d only been dating for a month or two, and Trevor had gone to a party with some of his lacrosse buddies.  He and I had plans the following day to go into Atlanta.  I waited the entire day for him to pick me up.  He never showed, and he wasn’t answering his phone.

When it started to get late in the day, I got panicky that something bad had happened to him.  I remember pulling up to his house and being so relieved to see his Range Rover parked outside.  At least he’d made it home.  My relief was short lived though, and my insecurity took over.  We were still new in our relationship and I was still unconvinced that he could actually like me.  I was sure that
he’d
met someone else at the party and that was why he refused to answer his phone. I stood on his porch for a good ten minutes before I worked up the nerve to ring the bell.  His mom let me in and she said that
he’d
been downstairs in his room all day long. 

I felt like such a fool.  Of course
he’d
met someone else.  There was nothing special about me at all, and it was widely known that he could do so much better than me. My heart sank when she remarked at what a great mood he was in. 
He’d
had a great night, and he didn’t want to be bothered with me.  I thought about walking out right then and there.

In retrospect, maybe I should have walked away. Cut my lo
s
ses then.  Instead, I stood outside the basement door and knocked lightly, barely a tap. I told myself that if he didn’t open the door right away, I would turn and leave, saving myself the humiliation.  But the door flew open and he stood in front of me beaming. 
I’d
never seen him so cheerful.  

“Hey gorgeous,” he said.  He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in for a deep, intense kiss. I jerked away from him. Up until that point, the physical aspect of our relationship had been pretty limited, and I was mortified to think that his mom might be within line of sight. 

He led me into the basement and closed the door behind me.  Trevor pressed me up against the closed door and quickly found my mouth with his again.  His hands wandered places on me that they hadn’t been before then. I wasn’t used to that type of affection. It left me a little out of my mind. I’d almost forgotten why I’d even come
over in the first place. And obviously, he wasn’t mad at me. I pulled away from him and he let out a low, sexy moan. What the heck was I doing?

“Where were you? We had plans,” I demanded. My head was still foggy from his kisses.

“We did?” He looked genuinely confused.

“Uh, yeah, we did. We were supposed to go to Atlanta today. How could you not remember?” I asked. I watched him process this, looking like he was searching through his memory to try to find the one with our plans.

“Oh hell, Syd, I’m so
sorry. I completely forgot.” He
frowned and his features turned boyish and apologetic. I would’ve forgiven anything then just by looking at his sheepish smile
.  Did that level of forgiveness still apply after tonight
?

He reached for me again and pulled me into his arms. Smothering me with warmth. And the smell of Trevor. A little bit of sweat and that same clean
-
smelling cologne he’d worn since I met him. His arms used to be my protective place. When I pulled back from him though, something was off. It was something about his eyes. They were wide like saucers. His pupils were tiny pinpricks of ink. They didn’t look normal, for sure.  I remembered what his mom had just said about his abnormally good mood. All of the little pieces started to click into place.

“Are you on drugs?” I demanded, cocking my head to the side. I was being completely serious, but he laughed loudly as if I was joking.

“You are! You’re high, aren’t you?” I said. He continued to chuckle until he looked at me. He saw the seriousness in my face turn to tears. I don’t know why I started to cry. Maybe it was because he was keeping secrets from me. Maybe it was because he was laughing at me. Maybe because I felt like I was losing him. Hot tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. His smile faded, and he looked like he might cry as well. And I was responsible for it. Just like I was the reason for him being so upset tonight.

“Syd, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He put his face in his hands.

“What did you
do
?” I demanded. I tried to pull his hands away from his face so that I could look at him, but he wouldn’t budge. He didn’t answer immediately, so I repeated the question.

“It was just one line,” he said

“One line? What were you doing, cocaine? Are you completely insane?!” I yelled louder than I probably should have with his parents in the house, but I didn’t care. I stormed across the room and headed for the door.

He caught my arm and turned me back toward him. Not sternly like he had more recently, he was much gentler with me back then.

“Please don’t leave. I’m so sorry. I swear it was a onetime thing,” he said. The look on his face made me pity him. I didn’t know how to react to this side of Trevor. I’d only seen the public Trevor that everyone else knew up until this point. 

“I just can’t believe you did that,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. For the first time, I’d felt disappointed, let down by someone else.

He dropped to his knees in front of me. Despite my anger and disappointment, I knew he felt bad enough. I tried to pull him back up off of the carpet, but he wouldn’t stand. Instead, he clutched my hands softly in his.

“Please don’t hate me Sydney,” he said

“I don’t hate you. I’ll never hate you. Just please get up.” I couldn’t understand why he did what he did, but I wasn’t willing to lose him over one mistake.

He stood up slowly, almost unwillingly. His hands wrapped soothingly around the back of my neck.

“I’m so sorry. I won’t let you down again,” he said

“I know. I believe you.”
And I did.

That was the day that our relationship changed.

He leaned toward me, his forehead rested on mine. He looked at me, like no one had ever done before,
really
looking at me. Into me.

“I love you so much, baby,” he whispered.

I’m pretty sure that my heart stopped beating when he said those words. I’d never expected anything serious with Trevor. Honestly, I hadn’t even really expected him to stick around as long as he had this far.

No one other than my family had ever said that to me before. And it was the most magnificent statement ever.

“I love you, too,” I sigh
ed
.

I never told my friends about the fight. I didn’t want them to think badly of Trevor. I wanted them to like him, and approve of him, and us. It felt like if I told, I was betraying what Trevor and I had—or could have. So I kept quiet. Just like I would do now. 

That fight felt like the end of the world at the time. But now, as I sit at the foot of the stairs, it was just a minor hiccup in our past.

I really have to pull myself together before Dad and Maisy get home. I hobble to the bathroom to check out my injuries. Please don’t let my face look terrible. I can work through the pain of an injury at gym, but I can’t hide my face from Dad, Sam, Quinn…
the cameras
.

The left side of my face is already badly
swollen;
I worry about what it’ll look like tomorrow. My ribs ache, but thankfully, they don’t feel broken. I swipe some thick foundation on my face and mask it all with a thick layer of pressed powder before and rush into the confessional booth. I feel like
there’s
a time bomb attached to me. I need to get in one more segment before tomorrow when I’m certain my face will look like hell. Besides, if there’s any way to prepare for Dad’s certain round of questioning, it’s in front of a camera.

I get in a few minutes of mindless jabbering when Dad knocks on the door.

“Come in,” I yell back. I breathe in deeply and hold it longer than I need to. I wonder if he can see anything yet, especially with the bright lights blazing down on me.

We talk for a bit. I’m feeling good about my acting skills. We decide to deal with my car in the morning so that neither of us has to go out in the rain. I’ll take his car to gym in the morning. Dad isn’t one for fixing things himself, but he’ll bring it in, and promises it’ll be running by Monday.  It’s not until I get up from the overstuffed chair and hobble to turn off the lights that dad notices something is off.

“What happened to you, Syd? Did you take a tumble at gym?” he asks.

“Close. I tripped down the stairs after I got out of the shower,” I tell him.

He tilts my face each way to inspect it.

“You hurting?”

“My ribs hurt a little,” I say.
A lot.

“Well, you really did a number this time, kid. Do you need me to call the doctor?”

His concern hurts. He doesn’t have the energy for this.

“Nah, I’m fine. I am going to turn in early, though,” I say. I slowly start up the stairs, holding my ribs in an attempt to minimize the pain.

“You sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” he asks. Apprehension fills his voice. I know that I can’t tell him how bad it really hurts. I can’t tell him that as bad as the pain is
,
it doesn’t touch how bad my heart is aching
because Trevor
walked out on me. I can’t tell him the truth.
Ever.

“No, no, no. I’ll be fine tomorrow. Thanks Dad, goodnight,” I say weakly as I close my door behind me.

I curl up on my bed and the tears start again. Trevor and I were here, together, just a couple of hours ago. This person that I
love
. Trust. This person I’d given myself to so wholeheartedly. This person that hurt me, and then walked out on me.

I’m teetering on the ledge of awake and sleep when I hear my cell phone vibrate on the night stand. I blink several times to clear the grogginess and heavy tears that cloud and burn my eyes.

I’m sorry. I love you and hope you’re okay.

I take a deep breath and then reply:

It was my fault.  I love you.

My ribs ache. My face is throbbing. I just want things to be okay again. I want all of this hurt to stop. And if that means my taking the blame, well, that’s acceptable to me. I let my tears dry and hope for sleep to come soon.

By the time I get home from gym, my car is back in the driveway—just a dead battery according to Dad. The whole situation last night probably could have been avoided if I would have thought of that. I’m certain Grant would have had jumper cables. That fact irritate
s
me. He should have offered to try that, I t
ell
myself. That’s it.
I’m
blaming
him now.