Just Like Me (32 page)

              I called Taylor and cried and told him I would just leave now. I would forget about this semester, forget about my classes. He was hesitant and didn’t seem to like the idea, but he also couldn’t say no. He sent someone out directly to pick me up and take me to South Carolina.

I loved Lisa. She had been my best friend since second grade. She was supposed to be there for me and support my decisions. I loved Taylor. He could provide for me, he was serious about me. This was real. I wasn’t his puppet; I was capable of making my own decisions.

              I thought about the way I felt when Lisa had first started dating. It was awful; she was always ditching me for the guy. And the guy was a jerk. She was completely in love with him though, without even caring that he didn’t really love her.

              I had been ditching her lately. I couldn’t remember the last time the two of us had hung out. There was a time when we didn’t talk about Taylor or gossip. A time when we joked around and dealt with life as it came. Old times.

              Would I ever be normal again?

              Time seemed to blur together and I stumbled into the rental house in South Carolina. Taylor had told me he was filming late. I’d be alone for a while, I might even fall asleep before he got home.

Loneliness swam through me like sickness, and I felt physically ill. I couldn’t sit still as I considered my life. Was this the right decision? Or am I acting like Lisa first did when she had her first boyfriend? It makes sense why you’re supposed to have your first love young, so you can’t make stupid decisions like moving in together.

Desperate to rid my head of everything in my life that may or may not be falling apart, I flicked the T.V. on; wanting to vomit when I saw Star Gaze on the T.V. I went to turn it, but the face flashing on the screen made me stay put.

“It would appear that Jett is drunk as he parties with co-stars after a day of filming.”

“No.” I yelled at the T.V., slinking down into the couch.

“If you don’t believe us, take a look at this footage.”

              The T.V. showed Taylor coming out of a filming studio. It zoomed in on him tipping a can to his lips as he stumbled through a parking lot.

              “You can see Jett as he staggers through a parking lot and into a vehicle with his co-star, Kara, along with a few other friends. Jett appeared to stay at a nearby bar for a few hours before being carried out by some of his body guards. It’s worthy to note who is missing from this bizarre night out…his supposed girlfriend, Kale.”

              My. Heart. Stopped.

              “This, of course, isn’t the first drunken night the Hollywood bad boy has experienced. Over the past year, Jett has been dragged out multiple times of establishments selling alcohol. Jett had a DWI issued back in May, however, the charge was later suspiciously dropped.”

              Oh. God.

              No.

              “Apparently this Hollywood star is going to continue along his alcoholic warpath, even after proclaiming he was settling down with his now infamous girlfriend. It is clear that not even a steady relationship is going to keep this bad boy from partying.”

              I felt a gnawing ache inside me as I cut the T.V. off. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

I then reflected on the images that had flashed across the screen, revealing Taylor at various inebriated states and different locations, all depicting a darkness that I had feared. I had known better. I had known better than to just trust that everything was going to be ok.

I had refused to listen to the reasoning side of my brain. I was ready to give my life away to Taylor, to uproot and move cross-country just to be with him. I had planned to give up my classes, to give up my career. It felt a lot like shock, I guess.

Hey, you dodged a bullet.

My mind tried to make me feel better, but my heart knew better. The mind can’t mend a damaged heart. It felt like I was drowning. I noticed my body was shaking. I wiped a hand across my face and noticed it was wet with tears.

              As much as I had hurt over Chris, this was so much different. With Chris it had been a dull ache that reminded me I wasn’t good enough. With Taylor, it was an ocean of pain that racked my body. The pain of knowing that I was good enough, and the stronger pain of knowing that he wasn’t.

              I eventually fell into the place between dreams and life. I’m not sure how long I drifted there before I heard the front door open.

              There is a moment of bliss when you awake and everything is ok. And then you feel the puffiness in your eyes and the stinging in your chest, and you remember everything that happened.

              I heard multiple footsteps trudge through the house. A light flicked on and I saw a parade of men in uniform carrying Taylor through the hall. He was passed out.

              Behind them I spotted Mr. Nolan. He was on the phone, and he had a very calm persona in comparison to his normal tirade over Taylor’s constant grief in his life. After only a moment of listening to phone conversation, though, I quickly realized why he was so calm.

              “I will be handing my resignation formerly in the morning. I apologize for the short notice. Yes, please reiterate that to Mr. Jett in the morning. Thank-you. Good night.” He ended the call. “Gentlemen, if you would take him to the guest bedroom. That way when he wakes up in his own vomit, he won’t be as pissed off.”

              Mr. Nolan stopped abruptly when he saw me. His mouth opened slightly, grimacing. He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Ah, Ms. Delaney.” He let out a sigh. “I apologize; I didn’t know you were here.” I stared blankly at him. His face shifted when he observed my puffy face.

              “Mr. Nolan, is there someone I can hand my resignation into?” My voice cracked, and I bit my lip and stared at the ceiling as I tried not to cry. My attempt at humor now seemed more like a depressing sham. Mr. Nolan cleared his throat.

              “Ms. Delaney, I know I have no right to ask you this, but if you could stay here for the night, I would be very grateful. I can make arrangements for you to be flown back to your campus tomorrow morning. But I won’t blame you if you want to take a flight back tonight.”

              “Why would I stay here?” I mumbled through my swollen face. I was so tired that I couldn’t muster up any form of emotion. Was I supposed to be angry at his request? Was I supposed to be annoyed? I wasn’t sure.

              “I know you want to walk away and never look back, but I don’t think Taylor would ever allow you that luxury. If you’re ending this, he’s going to have to hear it from you. And I know once you leave this place, you’ll never want to come back.”

              I nodded slowly, somewhat comprehending his words. I don’t know when he left and I didn’t hear the stampede of body guards exit the house. I just knew pain as I closed my eyes and willed sleep to bury me.

              I woke up feeling as if I had been crammed in a box for a hundred years. My joints were stiff and my back ached as I slowly got to a sitting position. There was no moment of bliss this morning as the sun began peeking through the windows in Taylor’s living room. Only remorse. Only regret.

              I sat frozen and stared at the blank T.V. screen. It seemed to be mocking me.

              I refused to get up. I refused to move through his house, to use his bathroom, to wash my face. I wanted to wallow in the misery of being here, I wanted it to be real that I would never take a step in his direction again.

              It didn’t feel like an enormous amount of time when I heard a rustle down the hall. The sun had risen a bit, I guess. Not that I was paying attention to it.

              In spite of myself, I felt my heart race as I heard a door creak open. Of course, it wasn’t racing at the prospect of seeing the man I loved. It was racing at the fact that I would be saying a final goodbye.

              Would he argue? Would he cry?

              I wasn’t sure.

              But, then again, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“What the hell?” I heard him mutter.

He was in the hallway now. I heard silence as he probably looked around, wondering what in the world had happened last night. His feet were coming toward the living room. All of the sudden I heard him halt; I could almost hear his hesitation.

“Kale?” I did nothing. I continued staring at the blank screen. “What are you doing here?” I didn’t face him as I forced my mouth open. It took a moment for me to find my voice.

“You invited me here, remember?”

There was a pause as Taylor sorted through his thoughts, trying desperately to remember the events of the previous night.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t remember hearing you come in. It must have slipped my mind.”

He came around the side of the couch and sank down next to me. My body was rigid and my heart instantly screamed that this was not right; he was not supposed to be sitting this close. He did this to us, remember?

“I’m glad you’re here.” He said. I felt his eyes on me. It took him a moment to fully focus, and then I heard him take in a sharp breath. “Kale, what’s wrong?” I had thought that I had squeezed out the last of my tears last night. Apparently, I was wrong. “Kale? Talk to me.”

“Turn on the T.V.” I whispered.

“What?”

“Turn. On. The. T.V.”

He hesitated. Then he reached for the remote and the screen popped on.

I heard him take in a sharp breath as his drunken stupor seemed to play on an endless loop. There were new images now, of course. Perfect documentation of his night out.

“It was just one night.” He whispered. “Kale, you have to believe me.” His voice rose as panic set in.

Another voice popped in my head for some reason, a rough and deep voice that rose in anger.

It was just a little ex.

The words repeated in my head, familiar somehow. I tried to shake them free.

“It’s over, Taylor.” I whispered.

Why would you do this to us?

Words, more familiar words.

“I promise, I’m done. I won’t do any more. It was just a celebration thing, but it’s over now. I didn’t even want to do it.”

Please, leave her alone.

All of the sudden a memory hit me, distinct. Taylor was right there, I saw his mouth move, he was trying to talk to me. Or maybe he was trying to help me, but I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t hear him. A buzz was ringing, too loud, in my ears. My eyes didn’t see what was in front of me; I was back in a trailer.

I had just gotten off the school bus and immediately stopped my humming as I reached the front door. I was in fifth grade; the teacher had given me an A on my paper. I remember that I walked into my house and I smelled alcohol. I tip-toed into the kitchen, scared that Daddy might be asleep, and I might wake him up. But I heard shouting throughout the house.

“How could you do this?!” Daddy thundered. I peeked into the living room, seeing he was shouting at Mom. Mom wasn’t supposed to be home from work for a while.

“It’s not like I could have helped it, Reuben. Please.”

“How could you lose your job?” I looked away as a slap came down hard on my mother. I looked up, and saw her clutching her jaw. “I can’t support this goddamn family! You sorry sack of shit!” I watched as another blow came down on her.

“If you stopped…stopped with those pills, Reuben. We could afford our-” Another blow to her shoulder.

“It’s just a little ex.” He hissed. She cowered, dropping to the floor in front of him.

“Why would you do this to us?” She whispered, and Daddy began constant blows.

              One.

              Two.

              Three.

I dropped my book bag and cried as I saw Mom bleeding on the rug, the blows continued. I hated him in that moment. I hated Daddy. I looked around, desperate to help.

Then I saw a bag of pills on the table, little round pills. I grabbed it up and dashed for the bathroom. This is what made Daddy hurt Mom. This was why he was mean. I flushed them all down the toilet, feeling relieved as the water rushed them away. Now Daddy would be better.

“What the fuck was that?” I heard him thunder.

I felt his footsteps as he rocked the whole trailer. I glanced up as his big frame filled the doorway. His eyes were red, and I’d never seen him look so angry.

“What….did you do?!” He screamed. I dropped the little bag and I watched in terror as he yanked the belt from his pants. It was thick, black leather. But he wasn’t supposed to do this. Those little pills were what made him angry, and they were gone. “This will show you.”

It was too late. He ripped my shirt off, and then my puny little training bra. I felt the belt sting my back. Again. And again.

              One.

              Two.

              Three.

              Four.

I counted in my head and felt a trickle of something wet against my back.

I heard my mother’s weak voice as she called out from the living room, crying.

“Reuben, please.” I heard her sob, too weak to even stand. “Please, leave her alone.”

And the next thing I knew, my world had gone black.

I felt myself rushed back into reality. Taylor was in front of me, snapping fingers and clapping hands in front of my face. Complete terror held his eyes.

I remembered now after we left, she had said over and over how it had been a dream. She had told me he only hit her.

Only hit her.

But it wasn’t true. She was trying to make me forget the bad. Save me from him.

Suddenly sound popped back on and I heard Taylor yelling my name. I took a breath; I hadn’t realized that I was holding my breath. All I could remember was that belt across my back. And all I could do was count.

              Five.

              Six.

              Seven.

              Eight.

I gasped for air and held on tightly to my chest. It was like I felt every lash all over again.

“I can’t.” I whispered. “I can’t let you hurt me again.”

And I felt myself release. Tears spilled out, earth shattering tears that shook my whole body. I cried, I yelled into my hands. I remembered those counts.

              Nine.

              Ten.

              Eleven.

              Twelve.

I remembered those pills messing up my entire childhood, those tiny damn pills that hurt my mother time and time again.

              Twenty.

              Twenty-one.

              Twenty-two.

I remembered cringing if a teacher ever went to hug me, because my back was always healing.

              Thirty-four.

              Thirty-five.

              Thirty-six.

I remembered the look on his face when he saw my mother packing bags into her car. How he gave her a beating that left her broken, an inch away from death. But she locked me in the car anyway, and drove all night long.

              Forty-eight.

              Forty-nine.

              Fifty.

I remembered when I was small and hadn’t learned how to count past fifty, yet.