Not After Everything (17 page)

I have a thoroughly unhelpful session with Dr. Dave on Saturday. He doesn't even react to me doing his lame assignment. In all fairness, I don't tell him he was right about me fucking things up with Jordyn either, so I guess we're even. I spend most of the hour picking at my shoe.

And now I'm parked in front of the studio.

I don't want Jordyn to figure out how, you know, pissed I am. And I don't want her to be all awkward either. And I hope Kelly didn't tell her what happened before I ran out of there, or . . . God, what if Jordyn saw it for herself?

I should really find a new job.

I'm startled by a knock. It's Jordyn. She's waving and smiling through the passenger window like nothing happened. So that's how she's going to play it?

All that day, she's so good at pretending, I begin to wonder if I made the whole making-out thing up. She even flirts with a guy right in front of me. Maybe I should just stick with girls like Ali. At least there wouldn't be all these . . . feelings.

When Henry comes in and doesn't say anything about my awkward breakfast with Kelly, I think it's pretty safe to assume she didn't tell either of them. I somehow manage to make it through the day. Then I duck out before Henry or Jordyn are totally finished closing up, claiming I have to be somewhere. But the only place I have to be is away from them.

• • •

School is weird. It feels like everyone knows I have these, like, feelings now, and they're all pointing and staring.

I skip lunch to run around the track even though it's thirty-eight degrees out. I notice Coach watching me, but I ignore his impenetrable glare. I need to run. I need to get rid of this shit, this baggage. I still want Jordyn so badly. I can't help it. It's like she forced these feelings into me, then left me without instructions.

I repeat the whole running for lunch routine the next day, and the next. The less I see Jordyn, the faster the feelings will evaporate. Maybe I'll call Ali this weekend. As a bonus, Coach has even stopped blatantly glaring at me.

I'm heading up the hall after gym on Thursday when I see Jordyn for the first time this week. She's not wearing the usual makeup, and she's got on that burnt-orange thermal shirt—the one I vividly remember wanting to rip off her. She's standing in the middle of the hallway staring at me. There are tears streaming down her face. At first I don't understand, but then a large group passes out of the way and I see the whole scene.

Jordyn is cornered. There's Sheila, some of the other cheerleaders, Reece, the quarterback, and Brett. And they're laughing at her. Marcus is there too, but he's not really part of it. He's got his hand on Sheila's shoulder, trying to get her to leave, but then Brett spots me and pushes him out of the way before turning back to Jordyn.

“Where's your usual getup? I miss it. You know, because vampires suck so good,” Brett hisses into the side of her neck. She tries to get away from him, but then Reece is there, holding her in place. The girls erupt in laughter. Sheila's distinct laugh rises above the others' and she looks directly at me. Brett grabs the bottom of Jordyn's shirt and starts yanking it up. “Here. We'll help you change back.” Jordyn fights it, but she's not strong enough. Especially when Reece gives him a hand. They pull her shirt all the way over her face, trapping her arms over her head, completely exposing her breasts, which are covered by only a sheer lacy bra. The girls laugh harder.

Marcus pulls at Brett's shoulder, trying to make him let go. He says something I can't hear, but it's obvious Brett isn't listening.

I don't even remember the first hit. My hand is throbbing and Brett's on the ground, holding his nose, and Jordyn's on the ground pulling her shirt down, and Reece is beneath me on the ground, holding his jaw.

“You okay?” I ask Jordyn. But I don't hear what she says because Reece's fist meets my jaw. It barely hurts.

“Are you fucking this loser, Tyler?” Brett asks from somewhere behind me. “Way to downgrade, bro.”

I run full speed at Brett, knocking him in the stomach with my shoulder. Then I'm on top of him. Everything's calm around me, like the world's on pause and Brett and I are in slow motion. I slam my fist into his head. His jaw. His eye. Over, and over, and over until I realize he's stopped struggling. Hands are pulling at my arms, my shoulders, my hair. There's blood running down Brett's face and covering my hands. The cheerleaders are looking at me, mouths wide. Marcus and Jordyn look scared.

Next thing I know, I'm sitting in Principal Riggs's office with an icepack on my right hand, which is throbbing something fierce. I'm pretty sure my right ring finger is dislocated. It's hanging at a weird angle. But all I know is the rage I'm still feeling. Marcus is sitting next to me with an icepack on his eye. Apparently I elbowed him as he tried to pry me off of Brett.

My ears ring. I only make out about every other word Riggs says. I catch the gist, though. Something about suspension, something about me being lucky I'm not expelled, something about calling my dad. Fuck.

When Riggs opens the door, still barking at Marcus and me, I exit, keeping my head down. I can't afford to lose it on anyone else.

Jordyn's car is in front of my house when I get home. She's sitting on the front step. No doubt here to rip into me about, what? Take your pick. How I made her the focus of the evil cheerleaders and Brett? How I kicked the shit out of Brett like a total psychopath?

I finally get out of my car. As I get closer, I see that she's crying. “You okay?” I ask. Stupid fucking feelings.

“Honestly?” She won't meet my eyes. I get the sense that she's scared of me. Shit, I'd be scared of me too. “I don't know.”

I keep my distance.

“You didn't have to . . . You . . . It totally freaked me out to see you—”

“What? Turn into my dad?”

“Shit. No, Tyler. That's not what I was going to say.”

“Wasn't it?”

“Of course not!” She stands. Now she's looking at me. I can tell she wants to say something more.

She spots the icepack tied around my hand and takes a step toward me. Then another. And then she lifts my hand and kisses the tops of my fingers.

I fumble with my keys in my left hand, but she takes them from me and lets me into my house. Then she leads me to the kitchen and removes the icepack. She doesn't flinch when I reach out to wipe her tears, but she still only looks at my hand as she unwraps the bandage the school nurse attempted.

“Oh my god, your finger.” She very lightly brushes the most swollen part of my hand. It feels like a truck is slowly rolling over it. “We should go to the emergency room.”

I nod. But when she starts to lead me to the front door, I stop. “I can't,” I say. “I can't afford it. I'll just . . .” I'll just what? I'll try to put it back into place myself?

“My mom and Henry will take care of it when they hear what you did for me. Not that I'm encouraging that. What you did. Just . . . shut up. Let's go.” She looks me in the eyes. Her intensity scares me into submission, so I allow her to drive me to the ER.

Amazingly, I'm in and out in under two hours—X-ray, splint, and all. By some small miracle, nothing was broken. My first two fingers were pretty badly jammed, and the third finger was dislocated. The dislocated finger didn't even hurt that much compared to the pain when they popped the damn thing back in. Luckily they've prescribed a few days' worth of some serious painkillers. Jordyn makes me take them the second the bottle is in hand.

So I'm feeling pretty good when we pull up to my house. Also, a little loose-lipped.

“Dad's gonna beat the shit outta me for this. I'm just gonna have to go back to that nice doctor lady again later.”

“What?” She looks alarmed. “Are you being serious, Tyler?”

“Abso-fucking-luteley,” I say, struggling with the car door handle and my new splint.

“Tyler, you have to tell someone.” She's clearly frustrated.

“I told you. He'll just get worse. Plus, you saw me back there. I can take care of myself.”

She watches me, wanting to say something else. About how scared she was—is—of me? About how she's worried I'll kill my dad? But then her expression goes all stubborn and she says, “Well, then I'm staying until he gets here. I'll explain what happened. He can't blame you after he hears the truth.”

This completely sobers me up. I turn to her. “You can't stay. I can't get you involved. It'll be fine. I'll avoid him. It's not even that bad. I'm just high from the codeine.”

She leans across to open my door. “I'm staying. Let him try to touch one hair on your head without me calling the cops. Come on. You need sleep.” She suddenly appears on my side of the car and takes my good hand, leading me into the house. She's still got my keys.

Captain's greeting is somewhat subdued, as if he knows something's wrong. I lean down to pet him. Jordyn gets down and gives him a proper scratch. She's thanked with lots of kisses on her chin.

“Hey, now, don't get frisky with her, Captain. I might lose my shit again.”

“Not funny,” Jordyn says. “Where's your room?”

I lead her down the stairs and point to the door. “I need you to open it for me. It's the second key from the car key.”

“You lock your room?”

“He'd trash it if I didn't.”

She puts her hand on my face and I can't stop myself from leaning into it. I close my eyes.

When I open them, she's still looking at me. I lean down to kiss her, half expecting her to pull away, but she kisses me back. It's slow and tentative, like we're both making sure of the other.

When we pull apart, she studies my face. I drop my eyes to the doorknob.

“Are you okay, Tyler?” she asks quietly, unlocking the door. “Like, you know? At Thanksgiving . . .”

I push the door open and motion for her to lead the way down the stairs. After locking it behind me, I take a deep breath and go in, joining her on the edge of the bed.

I take another breath. Then: “Kelly's perfect turkey,” I say, “Henry's guitar playing, you . . . That was the best Thanksgiving I've ever had and I felt insanely guilty because, you know, it was the first one without her. I mean . . . God, you have no idea how lucky you are, Jordyn. Your mom and Henry and your dad and even his crazy wife, I think, love you so much, it . . . No one . . . It just hit me that no one will ever love me like that. I'm not even sure my mom ever
did
love me like that. Otherwise why'd she leave me, you know?”

“That's not true.” Jordyn turns her whole body toward me and takes my hands. “Your mom loved you, Tyler. She really, really loved you. I remember. And your dad, as fucked up as he might be, loves you in his own way.”

A bitter laugh escapes my throat. “First of all, my dad actually hates me. He tells me on a regular basis, and I know it's not just words. He hates me.” I stand. “And if my mom loved me as much as you say, she wouldn't have left me alone with my prick father and no explanation.”

“Tyler,” she begins, but I stop her with a kiss. Not a hot kind of kiss that would, under normal circumstances, lead to sex, but a kiss that lets her know how much I appreciate her, how much I care about her. I can see that she understands its meaning by the way she pulls me down next to her and looks at me. “Thank you for standing up for me,” she whispers against my lips.

“It's you who . . .” I whisper back. “It's you.”

We stay like that for a little while, just holding on.

“Why'd you freak out after . . . ?” I ask, somewhat embarrassed.

“Me? You're the one who ran away as fast as you could.”

So Kelly didn't tell her about my breakdown. “Well, you basically threw me out. And then I thought maybe you thought it was just a drunken mistake and that you felt sorry for me. And then you ignored me and acted like nothing happened. That killed me, by the way. All this is new to me. I, like, got close to you. And you threw it in my face.”

She closes her eyes and seems to shrink, like she knows. “I didn't mean to. I just panicked. I know your reputation and I know I'm so not your type. I guess I kind of went on the defensive before you could hurt me.”

“I'll never hurt you,” I breathe against her mouth. She kisses me, and it's all that's left in the world at that moment.

“I want to show you something.” I lean down to the wood panel and pull out the metal box. Then I remove the key around my neck and hand it to her.

“I always wondered what this was for,” she says as she places the key in the lock.

I stop her when she goes to open the lid. “I've never shown anyone this.” I'm suddenly very nervous.

She places a hand over mine. A gesture that tells me to take my time, that she gets it.

I pull out the pictures and place them on the bed, side by side.

She takes her time examining each one.

“She always seemed so happy,” she finally says.

“I know. That's why it's so messed up.”

“Tyler . . .”

“It's all I have left of her,” I say. “Plus Captain. And this.” I place the razor blade on the bed.

I feel her breathing pick up. When I look at her, she has tears in her eyes.

We don't say anything for a very long time. Until Captain whines from outside the room.

“He's probably hungry.”

I'm scooping food into Captain's bowl when Jordyn hugs me from behind. I stand there, scoop in hand, and take it all in. Then I notice the clock. It's almost seven.

“You should go. I really don't want you to be here when he gets home.”

“I'm staying, Tyler. I won't let him hurt you.”

“What scares me more is . . . if he hurts you, I'll kill him.”

She can tell I'm dead serious, but it's too late. Dad's footsteps hit the front steps and the door is flung open.

He stops short of screaming when he sees Jordyn. Then he lets out a sharp snort. “You would hide behind a girl.”

“Dad—”

“Shut the fuck up. Two weeks? Suspended for two fucking weeks?”

“Dad!”

“Mr. Blackwell, he was—”

“Get. Out,” Dad says to Jordyn, his voice barely a whisper, which is so much worse than his yell.

He stares at her and I tense up, preparing for the worst.

“I'm not leaving.” She threads her arm through mine. “Tyler promised to help me with my calculus and I'm not going to fail that class because you're too goddamn stubborn to hear his side of the story,” she says. Then she takes my good hand and pulls me down the stairs to my room, making sure to lock the door behind her.

I'm too stunned to speak.

I turn to face her and she about passes out in my arms. “Holy shit, he's scary!”

“You're crazy,” I say. “And amazing.” And brave. So much braver than I am. I should have been the one protecting her, not the other way around.

I kiss her deeply, hoping it'll lessen my shame, which only partially works, because when we part, I feel the hot threat of tears. “No one's ever stood up for me. Not even my mo—”

She kisses me.

Not even me. My shame thunders loudly. I can feel it in my throat, threatening to spill. How can she be so much stronger than I am? I shove my humiliation aside—it's like moving a physical mass—and I melt into her, forgetting about everything today, everything ever, until there's nothing but her.

She holds my head in her lap stroking my hair. We talk about nothing, everything, for hours, until all is quiet upstairs. She can't leave till he's passed out. I don't want her to leave ever.

• • •

“I really don't—”

“I'll be fine. I know how to avoid him,” I say to Jordyn as I walk her to her car.

She sighs, stopping herself from saying more.

“What?” I tip her chin up so she looks at me.

“I feel like anything is better than living like this. Even a group home.” Her eyes drop before she says “group home.”

I breathe in, count to three, and let it out. “If that were to happen, my whole life, as fucked up as it may be, would be ripped away from me. And I don't know if I can handle that again. It's bad enough to lose her, but to lose Captain, my home”—I hesitate—“you.”

She looks back up at me, frowning, still worried.

“It's only for a few more months. And I'm really good at avoiding him. I've survived seventeen years and eight months. I'll be fine. I promise.”

She sighs again, resigned. “I'll let Henry know what happened with the fight and the suspension and the hospital, and tell him to take advantage of your . . . sabbatical, but you have to promise me you'll use your words next time. No fists. Okay?”

I nod.

“Henry and Mom'll be grateful you stood up for me. And I promise, no matter how much I might want to, and no matter how much it makes me feel like a total Lifetime movie girlfriend cliché, I won't tell them about your dad.” She's holding my face in her hands again.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” I say. Then laugh. “I mean, speaking of Lifetime movie clichés.”

She smiles sadly. “You deserve everything, Tyler.”