If I Were Your Boyfriend (18 page)

  "It was very difficult for me," I began. "My mom would always tell me that she loved me but her actions wouldn't reflect her words. I felt valueless to her and I felt no matter what I said or how hard I tried to do everything she wanted me to do, it was never enough. I felt that all the things she was showing me went against who I was. It was as if she thought that just because she was a heavy drinker that automatically made me want to be one, as well. I felt as if she'd given me a label and an identity that I had to follow no matter how incongruent it was with who I truly was."

  My father interjected his thoughts after he'd listened to what I'd said. "I would imagine that what you went through was like trying to wear a pair of shoes that belonged to someone else or didn't fit your feet."

  "Yeah, Dad, that's kind of what it was like. Every day I felt hurt or abused in some way by my mom. I felt as if I was cursed and had no real way out of my situation. All of my friends and those within my crew were seasoned drinkers, drug abusers and could be certified as insane. I mean, some of the stuff I did with them was so outrageous and dangerous that I still wonder how and why I'm still alive." I was quiet for a long moment as I thought how many times I'd almost seriously injured myself by doing some dumb stunt to prove how cool I was. One of the worst stunts was driving down a pitch-black farm road at a high rate of speed with no headlights on. "It was as if I was chasing death because I thought it was a way to exit my misery." My dad draped his arm around me. I was silent again.

  "If it's too hard to talk about right now, it's okay," said my dad. "I'm going to be with you every step of the way, okay?"

  I nodded my head in agreement. It was strange how just talking about my problems had such an impact on how I felt. It was almost as if I were getting rid of the monstrous person I'd become. Others in my group opened up, as well. One guy got hooked on pot when his uncle introduced it to him. A girl in the group got hooked on antidepressants because the kids at school ridiculed her to no end and yet another girl was recovering from heroin that her boyfriend got her hooked on. After hearing some of the problems the others had, I didn't feel horrible or alone.

  I got all of my belongings out of my mom's house and got settled into my permanent life with my dad. My dad set boundaries and expectations that had to be met. His biggest concern was my grades. He demanded that I improve so that I wouldn't flunk out of my junior year of high school. His other rule was the harshest. No parties or free time until further notice. That rule would kill my social life, but I could deal with that because under no circumstances did I ever want to go back with my mom.

  My first day back at school was interesting because I was cleaning out my friends' closet and getting rid of people who were bad for me. The first person on my list was Ed Daley. He stopped by my locker between first and second period to see me and welcomed me back.

  "Aw, man, they finally let you out," said Ed, who was a short and stout Irish kid with red hair, freckles, braces and a speech problem that caused him to sound as if he was slurring his words.

  "Yeah, Ed, I'm out." I began working on my combination lock so that I could get my book for science out.

  "Hey, man, I hear that Liz Lloyd has been looking for you. I think she's got a little release present for you." Ed laughed at the idea of alcohol being my present.

  "Release present?" I asked as I stooped down to pick up my science textbook.

  "You know," Ed whispered, "she got you some booze, man, so that you can celebrate." Ed began guffawing again. He was goofy like that. "When she gives it to you, let me know so that I can help you kick off the party." Ed waited for me to laugh along with him, but I didn't.

  "What's wrong with you?" he asked with a perplexed expression.

  I swiveled my head from right to left.

  "Liz can keep her present," I said. "That's not who I am anymore, Ed."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Ed was confused by my response.

  "I don't drink anymore," I answered.

  "What the hell, man? What are you talking about? You're Whiskey Wesley. You'll drink anything. Do you remember the time we got hammered and then went for a swim in Lake Michigan? Remember you almost drowned and—"

  "Ed," I interrupted. "That's not who I am anymore. I'm sorry."

  "Aw, man. What did they do to you at that juvenile detention center? They must have brainwashed you or something." Ed threaded his fingers behind his head and shifted his body weight from one leg to the other. The notion that I'd gone cold turkey with my drinking was something he couldn't comprehend and was unwilling to accept.

  "Don't tell me you went and got all religious on me." Ed was truly hurt by my news.

  "I'm a new person, Ed. Can't you tell?"

  "No. You look the same to me." Ed looked into my eyes. "Okay, the whites of your eyes are white and not red. I did notice that, but you look so much better with red eyes. You looked cooler and you were more at ease. The old Wesley wouldn't talk all the nonsense you're talking. All you need is a quick hit and you'll be fine. I want the old Wesley back. You need to drop the choirboy act."

  I smiled because he honestly thought his speech was enough to turn me back into the person he liked.

  "I'm not going down that road again, Ed. The Wesley you knew was not the person that I am. That was someone else. That was someone who was very unhappy. This is who I am," I said to him. Ed looked at me as if I'd just wrecked his brand-new car.

  "What has gotten into you? What's next, you're going to start getting good grades?"

  "Yeah, that's one of my new goals," I said to him, feeling confident.

  "You're dumb, Wesley. Just like the rest of the school. You're one of us, not one of the book nerds who join the math or debate team. You'll never fit in with them. They won't accept you."

  "Ed, I'm not looking to be accepted by anyone. If who I truly am upsets you, then I'm sorry but that's just the way it is now." Ed was speechless. "Look, I'll catch up with you some other time, Ed. I have to get to my science class," I said as I closed my locker, and headed toward the classroom.

  Throughout that first day I went around to all of my so-called friends and let them know that I wouldn't be hanging out with them anymore. They all thought I'd gone crazy but I didn't care. Eventually I heard that Liz Lloyd began spreading rumors around about me having some kind of mental breakdown while I was locked up, but I didn't care about that either. She could say whatever she wanted to.

  I was such a poor student when I was drinking. I didn't care about what grades I got or turning in assignments on time. Now that I was sober and could think straight, I saw how ignoring my schoolwork was a monumental error. I was behind in every class I had. I was even failing gym, which anyone can get an
A
in as long as they participate. But it's hard to run laps around a track or play flag football when you're dealing with a hangover. After I saw where I was academically, I made a promise to myself to get my act together. I studied harder, listened in class and participated more than I ever had. I freaked several of my teachers out because they couldn't believe the transformation that had occurred.

  "You're like a completely different person," Miss Eisner told me one day as I was leaving her second-period science class. "Keep up the good work," she said as I exited the room. I often arrived at school early and did extra-credit work or studied at the school's library. For the past several weeks I'd noticed a girl studying and working just as hard as I was. She was very cute. Okay, well, maybe better than cute, she was beautiful. She had gorgeous eyes, pretty caramel skin and a strong presence about her. I never saw her smile though. She always has a very determined look on her face. Sometimes I wanted to approach her and say something witty to make her laugh, but I feared that she might snap on me. I wondered if she remembered that I said hello to her before. A few times I've sat on the opposite side of the room and allowed my eyes to dance all over her. I was hoping that she'd feel me ogling her, but she didn't. She focused on her work and had no clue that I even existed.