Fix Up (23 page)

He gives me the box of handkerchiefs. "Then let the people around you show you how it's done and don't force it. When you're sad, don't hide it. When you're angry, yell it. When you're happy, smile and laugh. When you want to cry, explain why. When you have good or bad news, go find someone you're close to and tell them. Make some mistakes, fall and stand back up and grab the hands that are extended to you. But above everything else, do it for yourself, not because you don't want to worry your friends or parents."

"And if I still can't?"

He smiles softly at me and waves at his office. "You're not going to get rid of me just yet. It's just the beginning, Skye."

I close my eyes and let myself feel all the things inside of me like grief for Sean, the Sean I thought I knew but really never existed, and the anger at myself as a teenager unable to back out of the relationship. I think about Duke how I made myself fall in love with him and it messed with everything even more in my head, about my parents who hadn’t succeeded in helping Sean's mother, and about Dr. Marshall how he woke everything up inside of me. But one thing I'm doing right now, is saying goodbye to the old me and Sean and the illusions I built up in my head because after what happened last when he abducted me, I tried to picture him as more human than he really is. I couldn't believe someone I fell in love with could do such a thing. I lied to myself to protect me, and I can acknowledge it now. That's a first step, a baby-step, but it's a beginning.

***

DUKE

“And she left without a word?’’ Derek asks me, sipping his coffee with a deep frown.

I nod, my eyes going back to my empty styrofoam cup. My shoulders are hunched over and my head is close to hanging down. I don’t have much more strength. I mustered everything I could to get to the prison and wait for Skye. I even kept it together when I had her in my arms, and I just wanted to kiss the hell out of her. Then, as if I wasn’t suffering enough, I had to keep a sort of dignity in Dr. Dills class. But now I’m with my best friend, and all I want to do is destroy the coffee house and punch all the people happily chatting and laughing around us.

“My hugs aren’t magical. It’s not like she’d have jumped me just because I showed up.”

“I just thought you two would have talked a little.”

I shrug and try to not reach in my backpack for that very thing I bought right after Skye left campus without a look at me. Alcohol. Whiskey to be exact. I shouldn’t want it or even keep it, but I need something,
anything
.

“You know many exes talking like old friends?” I cringe as the label left my mouth. Fucking label.

“It’s different, and you know it. Don’t close off again.’’

I glance back at him and see the worried lines between his eyebrows. I know I freaked him shitless the other night when I drank and pathetically cried. It must have brought back bad memories for him.

“Believe me, Derek, I’m feeling every fucking jolt of pain right now. Night and day. It doesn’t fucking leave me.’’ I bring a hand closed into a fist to my heart. “She’s here, and that shit doesn’t leave me for even a second. I can’t close off even if I wanted to.’’

Derek exhales and rubs at his neck. I know him and how worried he gets where I’m concerned, and I can’t reassure him. I will not lie to my best friend.

“You’ll get better, I know it.’’

I grab my backpack, determined to polish off that new bottle of Jack. Standing up, I shoulder my backpack, ready to bolt. I need a reprieve, and even if I know I’ll be thinking about her, craving her and still be mad at her even once I’m too drunk to form a coherent sentence, that pain will be easier to handle. At least, that’s how it makes me feel.

“That’s the thing, I don’t want to.’’

I turn around and walk out, ready to feel the burn of Jack going down my throat.

Chapter Thirteen

DUKE

I keep my eyes on my backpack, fighting against myself. I don’t even know why I’m fighting it, though. Grayson isn’t going to be back until late tonight because of some study group or other¸ Derek is busy and I’m here alone, single. I can drink that bottle of Jack in my backpack if I want to.

I rub at my eyes again, battling the tears. Feeling so weak, so powerless is messing me up good. All I want now is not even numbing myself at this point, but it’s being able to get through tonight without letting these fucking emotions ruin me. But I know drinking won’t solve problems, so I’m sitting on my unmade bed, my hand rubbing at my eyes whenever fresh tears threaten to fall while my other hand is bringing a cigarette to my mouth.

At this point, I don’t feel the smoke burning in my lungs. I don’t smell it or anything. There’s a whole lot of nothing around me while everything is happening inside of me, both in my heart and in my head.

I was there for Skye today, and she just pushed me away. I know she willingly went in my arms at first, but it lasted just a couple of minutes, maybe even less. Then she walked away from me, as if she doesn’t even need me anymore. I know she’s strong and doesn’t want me to be the one always helping her, but damn it. Is it too much to ask to let me hold her for a little while? Just a little while, that’s all I was asking for.

I take another drag of my cigarette and keep the smoke in my lungs until I feel the strong need of air making me dizzy. I let the smoke out slowly, watching the volutes going up toward the ceiling.

I glance at my backpack again, and this time I stretch out to reach it. I’ve decided to drink that bottle of fucking Jack, or at least just a sip or two to settle my nerves and give me a little buzz.

Knocks at the door stop me just before my fingers come into contact with the old backpack. I frown, put the cigarette in my mouth and stand up. Jack can wait.

My heart beats faster, louder, making my ears buzz.

*  *  *

SKYE

I knock at the door and ignore the little voice in my head yelling at me to run away. But I can't leave things so unresolved with Duke, not after he was there today when I needed him. I still think it's the best thing for him if we're not together anymore, but it doesn't mean that I don't feel the need to say a real goodbye and thank you. It’s the least I can do after everything he’s done for me.

He opens the door, a cigarette in his mouth and his eyes red, swollen from tears it seems. I look away, my eyes watering again—like I didn't cry enough in Dr. Marshall's office. Maybe I should have listened to the voice in my head.

"Skye?" The cigarette is now in his left hand, the only place where I let my eyes wander. I can't look at his handsome face, the pain so clearly visible here. He's usually very cautious with his emotions, not always showing them and often keeping a mask up for everyone, but right here, right now in front of me there's no mask. He lets me see the raw pain inside him. He can’t hide it, not when it’s so powerful.

"Do you have a minute?"

He doesn't say a word and walks back inside, the door open to let me decide if I want to walk in or leave. He knows me; he knows I'm craving to run away because it's too damn difficult to face this situation. But I want to do this last thing for Duke, but also for me.

I close the door behind me and sigh with relief at Grayson's empty side. He'll probably be back soon, so I have to hurry. And I need to meet my parents in my room. In fact, I should already be there.

"Are you okay? I mean ..." he stutters before he stops himself, throwing his cigarette in the ashtray on his bedside table. He sits heavily on his unmade bed.

I don't really know where to sit, so instead I stay standing in front of him. It's just like in high school when I had to talk in front of the class. I feel flustered, self-conscious and can't help but move from one foot to the other again and again, like a pendulum.

"I'm ..." I catch myself and think back to what Dr. Marshall told me only an hour ago. I have to be true to my feelings. "No, I'm not."

He stands up and walks to me, not daring to touch, but his eyes are doing it. They caress me, warming me and making my blood boil in my veins like nobody else can. He tugs on his hair. This time it's not because he's nervous or lost, but I think it's because he’s refraining from touching me, from hugging me.

"But that's not why I'm here, Duke." I take a deep breath and let the tears fall without trying to hide behind my wild hair, without feeling like an idiot crying like this. That's how I feel, and it can't be wrong to just ...
feel
. "I wanted to thank you."

He releases his grip on his hair and catches a tear with the very tip of his thumb, his eyes darker than ever. My whole face tingles with this simple touch, and I fight against my body to not close my eyes and lean into him. Enough with the mixed signals I send.

"Don't, Skye." His voice breaks, and with it my heart ceases to beat for a full second. "I don't want to hear a goodbye from your mouth. I get it, it's ... over." He takes a step away from me. "We won't see each other after I graduate, but I don't want to say goodbye because you might think that it'll get easier soon, that it's best for me or I don't know what other fucking thing you persuaded yourself with. But I don't feel that way. So, in a month I'll be in San Francisco like you want me. Even if it's the last thing I do for you, I have to do it because I love you so fucking much that I'm willing to break my own fucking heart just for you. Fucking irony, right?”

I’ve never heard him say fuck so many times all in one go, but it’s the way he says it that digs an even bigger hole in my chest. His deep, low voice is harsh, and yet broken. It makes me doubt myself.

"I'm not right for you."

"Yeah, well, maybe you could have let me decide that." He turns away from me, and I can't just leave without a last look at his face, without locking my eyes with his one last time. I walk over to him and walk around to face him.

"I love you too, Duke." I don't look at the necklace around his neck because I don't want to think about Juliet as I'm spending the last time with Duke. It's just us, like it should have been from the beginning.

"Why then?" He runs a hand through my hair, making my legs wobbly. "It's irrational, Skye. Even if we spend so much time fighting, I don't understand why you'd break up with me."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to show you everything about me." I try to imprint in my head the feel of the weight and the heat of his hand now tracing my jaw. I bottle up in my memory the smell of smoke, shampoo and musk that is all Duke. And I paint in my head the lines of his face, of his tattoos. "Good luck in San Francisco."

I break the contact and run away, my feet pounding on the floor, down the stairs and outside that I don't even see where I'm headed through my tears. And I scream my hate, my pain and frustration. Because I do hate myself, and I'm ready to let everybody know it. So I yell harder.

*  *  *

DUKE

I close the door by punching the thin wooden panel, not even cringing at the pain erupting in my knuckles. My breathing is ragged, breaking the silence of the empty room. Even though my hands are clenched into tight fists, I feel them shaking as an intense cold is settling all over me.

She came to fucking say goodbye.

Goodbye.

A broken sob tears out of my chest as I let myself fall on my bed, my hands blindly searching for my backpack and opening it in one motion as soon as I hike it in my lap. I fumble inside and finally feel my fingers coming into contact with the bottle of Jack. I grab it and push away my backpack.

I barely glance at the amber colored liquid in the bottle before opening it and bringing it to my mouth. I swallow a few times, letting the burn of the whisky do its work. Then I recap it and snort at myself. Pathetic. I’m the cliché of the guy with a broken heart. I’ve got a cigarette almost finished in one hand, a bottle of Jack opened in the other, and I’m alone in my room.

I put my finished cigarette in the ashtray on my bedside table, and I uncap the bottle, ready for another round of burning liquid. I need that buzz now. No, in fact I need oblivion. Anything is better than this, and that fucking word is blaring in my mind.

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

I hold up the uncapped bottle for a toast. “To Skye, thank you for making my heart beat again and then shredding it.’’

But silently, without uttering a word as to not jinx it, I swear to win her back one day. Maybe not soon, maybe I’m deluding myself as the buzz is starting to make me dizzy, but I need to think that a goodbye doesn’t have to last forever. I need to believe in something or else … No, better not to finish this thought.

I reach under my shirt and close my hand around the eternity symbol I gave Juliet. It’s warm from my body heat, and yet it feels foreign all of a sudden. I tug on it hard, feeling the chain biting in the skin around my neck. I tighten my fingers around the tiny piece of silver and tug harder, finally feeling the chain break. I open my hand in front of my face, my vision already unsettled as the alcohol starts to hit me, but I still see the piece of cheap jewelry in the palm of my hand.

And I let it fall on the floor at my feet. This is the past, now I have to focus on Skye. Nothing else matters right now. She is my forever, my eternity.

*  *  *

SKYE

I open the door of my room, and Kate pounces on me, startling me out of the fog and numbing pain I’ve been in since I left Duke half an hour ago. She grabs my hands in hers and squeezes softly. It's simple, but it means a lot to have someone like her on whom I can count, even if she doesn't agree with my decisions.

"I have to go study with someone from my economy class. You know Zoey, right?" I nod, but I don't really remember if it's the petite chubby girl with mousy brown hair or if it's the redhead with the biggest boobs I've ever seen that she’s talking about. "Well, she asked to study with me. I'll be in her room on the second floor if you need me." She kisses me on my cheek and walks out, leaving me alone to face my parents.

They're both sitting quietly on the bed, looking at me expectantly, but the gap between them is for me the size of the Grand Canyon. They're holding hands like always, but they're not attached to the hip like I'm used to seeing them. It breaks my heart. I don't know what is going on between them, but I do know that it has to do with me. I can't imagine my parents drifting away from each other because of me. I couldn't stand it.

I throw my bag on the ground at the foot of my bed and sit on Kate's bed to face them. My father's eyes, the same blue-green color we share, are on me, detailing my every move. My mother is focusing on my face where I know my eyes are red from all the crying I did. These days it's like I spend half of my time crying, the other half being spent upset. I've never been that unstable.

"Did your meeting with your psychologist last longer?" my mother asks me with a little voice. She sounds almost afraid to ask.

I shake my head. "No, but I had to see Duke. Then I needed some alone time."

"Are you back with him?" my father asks, his elbow on his knee, bracing his head on his hand. He’s leaning toward me a little, but still too far to make me squirm with his intense look.

"Listen," I look around us at the room and brace myself. Today is honesty day for me. If I have to go see Dr. Marshall so often, the least I should do is to listen to his words, and I do think that honesty is important. I’ve spent way too many years doing and saying things, or nothing, to not upset other people around me. "Maybe you're right; I'm trying to punish myself on some level, and that's why I broke up with Duke. But the thing is, I do think it's a good idea." I take a deep breath and lock my eyes with my father's. "I love him. I love him so much that I'm afraid. When you love someone and you're not happy and sure of yourself, you have the power to destroy the person you love, and I can't risk that. I can see now how fragile he really is. Before I thought it was just words because he looks so strong, but ... he's not that strong. Not always, and it's too damn complicated. We hurt each other these days, and that's the horrible truth." I stand up and lean against the window, my favorite place in this tiny room. "I can't accept what he had with Juliet, I can't accept the other girls looking at him and trying to have a piece of him, and I can't accept the possibility of losing him so ..."

"So you did the job yourself before he's got the chance," my mother finishes for me, standing up and hugging me against her, her soft body and motherly embrace softening my nerves. I fall against her and let myself be drowned by her motherly love. "Are you testing him?"

I clench my fists and think about it. Am I testing him yet again? Didn't I test him enough already? Is it why I was so relieved to see him outside the prison? Is it why I calmed down immediately when I saw him the other night when I had my panic attack? I breathe her in, the flowery perfume I know so well reassuring me.