Breaking Dawn (6 page)

Mom doesn’t give me a hard time when I want to stay home from school the next day. She only sticks her head in the door once, with her morning routine of ‘Rise and shine, time for school!’ Even her voice isn’t chipper and annoying. I didn’t even set the alarm last night. I guess I knew all along that I wasn’t going to school today.

For the better half of the morning, I lie in bed, dozing. Each time I wake, I replay the fragments of the dreams I’ve had. As noon approaches, I decide to get out of bed and take a shower. A long, hot shower will improve my mood a bit, I think.

I step into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes at the door and start running the water. Once the water is hot and steamy, I step in and enjoy the hot flow, gradually relaxing the tension in my muscles. A piping hot shower almost always makes me feel better. I must have been in for longer than I thought, because my feet have started to prune. I get out and grab a large towel for my body and a small towel for my head, wrapping myself up snugly. I feel a little better. However, I’m not really thinking about anything that will upset me. My mind is blank.

I step up to the sink. The mirror is covered with steam. I put my hand against the glass, about to wipe the steam away. Then I stop myself. I don’t want to see my reflection. I’m not sure why, I just don’t.

I move on to dry and groom myself before getting dressed and going downstairs to the kitchen. My stomach is rumbling. I haven’t eaten much in the past couple days. I open the refrigerator and look over its contents. Mom always keeps more food in the house
than three people could possibly consume in a reasonable amount of time. And although my stomach is begging for me to grab something – anything – and put it in my mouth, nothing appeals to me. I grab a bottle of water and sip on it as I continue my search for food. The cabinets are full, but still nothing catches my interest. My stomach grumbles even harder. Finally, in the pantry I find a bag of pretzels and take a handful from the bag.

I sit at the kitchen table drinking my water and nibbling on my pretzels, thinking of nothing. The house is quiet with both my parents gone and there is simply nothing I want to do. I could watch television, but that might trigger a memory or a thought. Right now I am perfectly content with an empty head. Then the phone rings.

After a few rings I get up to answer it.

‘Dawn, it’s Mom. I won’t be home in time to start dinner; I’m at the hospital with Grandma.’

She sounds upset.

‘What happened?’

‘The doctors think she had a stroke. I called your dad and he’s on his way down here to wait with me.’

A sudden thought of Grandma lying in a hospital bed, and my mind comes alive with thoughts and worries. For the first time today, I am feeling something. An emotion.

‘Will she be okay?’

I wonder if I should go down to the hospital. Grandma is an eighty-seven-
year-old
diabetic with a bad heart. What if this is it for her?

‘She’s stable now. Just stay home and I’ll keep you posted.’

Something in Mom’s voice tells me that she isn’t so sure. Plus, I know that she would never have called Dad out of work unless it’s something very serious. Still, I
know that Mom will call me if she thinks it’s time to say our final goodbyes.

‘I’ll be here.’

I hang up the phone and just stand still for a moment, remembering the last time I saw Grandma. It was on her birthday last November. Come to think of it, I didn’t even see her at Christmas. I was too preoccupied with Brian and Perry and skipped out on the celebration with my relatives. In hindsight, that was a lousy thing to do.

I flop onto the couch with the remote control in my hand, flipping through the channels, trying to find a show I can focus on to avoid thinking the worst about Grandma. I end up settling for reruns on a sitcom channel. Yeah, I’ve seen all these shows before, but they are still a welcome distraction.

At some point in the afternoon, I fall asleep on the couch. And I wake up to the sound of the doorbell. I sit up, confused. What day is it? What time is it? Where are
Mom and Dad? I rub my face, forcing myself to wake up. The doorbell sounds again. I push myself up off the couch and walk over to the front door, stopping to raise my eye to the peep hole. Standing on my porch is Brian in his orange and white school jacket and matching knit hat and gloves. His face is red from the cold and he is shivering a little.

Brian is the last person I want to see right now. Not only am I still angry with him, I am still suffering from the embarrassment of my outburst yesterday. Why is he here? Does he want to check up on me because I stayed home from school today? Does he have some sort of news from school about the incident? Sure I am curious, but I still don’t want to see him. I wonder how long it will take for him to give up and go away? I stand quietly at the door as he knocks three times, hard against the wood, and calls out my name.

‘Dawn!’ He shouts it loud enough so that I would hear him even if I were upstairs in the shower. ‘Dawn, please. I need to talk to you. Please open the door.’

He sounds so polite and sincere. I feel a small pang of guilt for making him wait outside in the cold. I’m sure the temperature is in the single digits out there. And here I am in my nice warm house… Okay, fine. I’ll let him in and see what he has to say. The least I can do is give him five minutes of my time. Five minutes and then he’s out of here.

I open the door with some attitude and step back, motioning with my hand for him to come inside. He seems surprised that I let him in – but not as surprised as I am. I close the door and stand facing him, crossing my arms over my chest, looking at him. He has with him a familiar backbag in one hand. When he steps inside, he drops it off next to the door.

‘Perry left this at school. I told Mr Dubois that I would return it to him.’ He looks at the bag and back to me. ‘When I didn’t see you in school today, I was worried.’ He grabs the orange hat from his head and pulls off his gloves. ‘Are you okay?’

I sigh and turn to walk over to the couch. Without looking back, I know he is following me. I sit down on one end of the couch and he sits down on the other end. I am grateful for the space. I’m not ready to sit too close to him. I can’t even look at him when I speak.

‘I’m not feeling too well.’

He bobs his head, thinking, listening, hesitating. I can tell there is something else on his mind. Something that I don’t want to talk about. He looks over at me a few times, I catch his glances and look away.

‘We need to talk about what happened yesterday.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘We have to,’ he says more urgently. ‘Dawn, I wasn’t involved in what happened yesterday. By the time I found out, it was too late. I went there to stop it.’

I look at him, trying to read his face. Is he telling the truth? He wasn’t one of the
boys beating on Perry and he did try to help Perry when he was down. I want to respond, but I feel my throat tighten and am afraid that if I speak, I will break out crying. I know that Brian isn’t a bad guy; he just needs to be more selective about who he calls his friends.

‘Perry didn’t deserve that.’ I mumble.

‘I know he didn’t.’ He inches a little closer to me. ‘Have you spoken to him?’

I shake my head. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of him for sometime now. He won’t answer the door or return my calls.’

But I haven’t tried since yesterday. I should have gone to the medical room with him, or gone by his house again or called again. I should have done something to show Perry that I still care.

The phone rings and it startles me. First thoughts are of Grandma in the hospital.

‘Could that be him?’

‘No.’

I jump up and walk to the kitchen.

‘My Grandma’s in the hospital. My mom is keeping me posted on her condition.’

On the third ring, I snatch the phone off the wall. ‘Hello, Mom?’ For a moment there is nothing but silence. Maybe I let the phone ring too long and she hung up or maybe there is a bad connection. ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, Dawn.’

The male voice at the other end of the line sounds only too familiar.

‘Perry?’

‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’

His voice sounds so calm and friendly. I haven’t heard this voice in so long, I had almost forgotten what it sounds like.

‘No, not at all. I’ve been worried about you.’

I take the phone, stretching the cord across the kitchen, to look into the living room where Brian is sitting on the couch, and motion to him. He gets up and quietly walks into the kitchen and waits. I put my finger to my lips and he nods, understanding my gesture to stay quiet.

‘No worries, I’m fine.’ Perry says. ‘I know you have been leaving messages and stopping by. I shouldn’t have given you the cold shoulder like that. I’m sorry.’

‘I deserve it.’ I know that now is my time to pour out my heart to him. ‘Perry, I am so sorry about everything. I don’t want to fight any more. I want things to go back to how they were with us.’

‘Dawn, it’s okay.’ His tone is so calm, so forgiving. ‘Everything’s okay.’

I should feel a wave of relief, but instead I am feeling a twist in my gut. I can’t quite put
my finger on it, but something isn’t right.

‘Perry, are you okay? Can I come over?’

‘Yes, I’m okay – and no, you don’t need to come over.’

‘I know I don’t
need
to – I
want
to.’

‘Have you read my manuscript yet?’

‘Yes. I think it’s great. You should get it published.’

Perry chuckles. ‘Do me a favour? If you believe that it is really that good, can
you
find a publisher?’

‘Of course!’

‘But first I want to change the ending. I was hoping you could help with that.’

‘Sure, that would be fun.’

Perry goes quiet. My stomach twists again as I wait out the silence.

‘Dawn – you know I’ve never stopped loving you, right?’

There’s a change in his voice. And there goes my stomach again, feeling as though I can vomit right here on the spot.

‘Perry,’ I try to compose myself. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I just wanted you to know that I love you.’ He pauses. ‘And by the way, Brian is a good guy. You should give him another chance. He really does care about you.’

I look over at Brian who is leaning his back against the wall, watching me, listening, waiting.

‘Perry?’

‘You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Dawn. For that, I will always love you.’

‘Perry…’ I want to say more in my weak voice, but it is too late. He hangs up. I put the phone down and turn to Brian with a
sense of urgency. ‘Do you have the car?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I need you to take me to Perry’s house. Something’s wrong.’

‘Let’s go.’

Brian gets his hat and gloves and hurries out to start the car as I put on my shoes and coat. Before heading out the door, I check my pocket for my house key and then lock the door behind me, walking steadily down the slippery pavement to the car.

Fighting the sickening knots in my stomach, I tell Brian how to get to Perry’s house and the fastest way to get there. Brian drives as fast as he dares on the icy roads.

We pull up in front of Perry’s house in a matter of minutes and I jump out before Brian has the chance to take the key out of the ignition. I struggle up the snow-covered walkway and up to the door. Brian is coming up behind me to stand at the door with me.
I try the knob. It’s locked. Just as I raise my fist to knock, there is a loud crack.

I jump. My hand is frozen in the ready to knock position. I look at Brian; his eyes are wide and I watch all the colour drain from his face. Time seems to stop.

I can only stand and watch as Brian wrestles with the door, slamming it with his shoulder, kicking the solid oak to no avail. Brian steps through the deep snow over to the window, takes off his coat and wraps it around his arm, then turning his face away, he punches through the glass. The glass gives way in large shards and falls away from the frame. Brian hops up and crawls through the window and hurries around to the door to unlock it from the inside. He grabs my hand and we walk through the clutter, stopping at the hall that leads to Perry’s bedroom.

‘Perry?’ Brian calls out. ‘It’s Brian and Dawn.’

My stomach begins twisting with
unbearable pain when there is no answer. What
was
that sound? Why doesn’t Perry answer?

Slowly, we step down the hall, looking into the side rooms as we pass. All empty. When we get to Perry’s door, Brian stops to look at me, squeezing my hand. Then he pushes the door. The door creaks open, revealing a messy room and something lying on the bed. Not something; someone.

Perry is lying on his bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Blood is spattered on the wall behind him, all over the
Pretty In Pink
poster. One arm is dangling off the bed and within inches of his fingertips, on the floor, is something black and shiny. A handgun.

I pull my hand free of Brian’s grip and step forward, my eyes fixed on the shocking scene before me. I am vaguely aware that I am panting, that my heart is pounding hard in my chest. Nausea and rising vomit leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I can make out the blank look on Perry’s face. The slack
jaw and the blood on his teeth. The hole in his skull and the puddle of blood, skull and brain matter soaking his bed. I feel like I’m going to faint. Like a zombie I step over to the foot of the bed, fall to my knees and then I do throw up, all over a pile of dirty clothes. When I think my stomach should be empty, I heave again and again, until I’m sure that my guts will come out through my mouth.

From behind me, Brian pulls back my hair and hands me a dry shirt from the floor. I wipe my mouth and push myself up. Turning away from the bed, Brian puts his arms around me and walks me out of the room.

‘I’ve called for help,’ he says.

Brian must have made the call when I let go of his hand to go stand by the bed. I shouldn’t have done that. Now that image of Perry’s defiled body will be burned forever in my mind.