Shut Out (20 page)

It starts snowing as I reach Syracuse. My hands are tight on the steering wheel because it's dark and now the roads are getting slippery. I was anxious even before I left Ridgedale, knowing I have to have a difficult conversation with my parents this weekend. I pull into our driveway with relief, flexing my fingers. Whew. Made it.

I lug my suitcase into the house, dropping it on the hardwood floor inside the front door. As I shut the door, Mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Skylar! You're here! Hi, honey!”

We hug, and my throat thickens. I wish…I wish I could turn to my parents for comfort instead of instantly feeling small and inferior. Because I really need some comfort.

“Dad's in the family room watching TV. Come on in and say hi.”

I follow her down the hall, through the kitchen, which opens to a big family room.

Dad looks up and sees me and smiles. He stands and holds his arms out, and I give him a hug too. “So, college girl, how are things?”

“Not bad.”

Actually, things couldn't be much worse. Okay, I could be failing my courses; yes, that would be worse. Thankfully I don't have to tell them
that
again. But I am going to have to tell them I want to change my major.

It's late, but Mom heats up some leftovers for me to eat, even though I tell her I'm not hungry. We get caught up with news we haven't shared in phone calls or emails, but I'm painfully aware there's so much I'm not telling them. Do I mention Jacob? He's been a big part of my life the last couple months. But what do I say?
There's this guy I'm pretending is my boyfriend and we're having hot sex.
Yeah, right.

I also can't tell them about my fight with Ella, because they don't know what happened with Brendan and me.

So basically I feel awkward and stiff.

Elisha's arriving from Boston in the morning, and I really am tired, so I'm not making an excuse when I tell them I want to go to bed early. In my bedroom, I look around at the furnishings that are so familiar to me. Most of my personal things are in Ridgedale now, but I pick up the stuffed dog sitting on the dresser, the dog I got when I was a kid because it looks exactly like the real dog we had back then, who has now gone to doggy heaven. “Smokey.” I give the dog a cuddle. Maybe Smokey should come back to college with me. I need all the hugs I can get.

I spend the weekend in Elisha's shadow. She's beautiful and confident and tells us about the praise one of her profs heaped on her for some work she did, the research she's doing, and the new guy she's seeing, which thrills my parents, although they are a little concerned that she'll be distracted from her studies. I don't know why; Elisha barely had to study in high school or for her undergrad degree. She's just that smart.

The C I got on my physics midterm is nothing to brag about and I'm sure not going to tell them what a mess my life is, when Elisha's is so perfect.

Sitting in my room Saturday night, propped up against pillows in bed, with my laptop on my knees, I remember what Jacob said…that I should just be myself.

Would things be different if I was taking courses I love? If I was passionate about what I was doing and proud of it? If I wasn't trying to be like Elisha?

I've spent my whole life trying to be like her. But I should just be myself.

I have to tell my parents that I'm going to be a teacher instead of a doctor.

Which probably means that along with everyone else in my life, they're going to be mad at me.

I hate feeling like this. I need to take control of my life and fix things.

I like to plan, so I open a Word document and start typing. I write out all my feelings and questions. I write out a script for how I'm going to tell my parents. I've been procrastinating all weekend and tomorrow's my last day here.

I make a list of their possible reactions, brainstorming everything I can think of. Then I try to come up with a plan to deal with each of those scenarios. Student loans are a viable option. Starting my career in debt isn't ideal, but hey, tons of people do it.

Then I think about Jacob and Ella.

I type out my plan for dealing with Jacob. I won't call him. I'll wait to hear from him. He's the one who needs a fake girlfriend, so he can contact me when he needs me. And when he does, I'll be friendly. I imagine how I'll feel the next time I see him, if he even wants to see me. We'll go to a party or something together. I'll do what I have to do—make sure girls there know I'm his girlfriend. But I'll also make a point of mingling more.

I need more friends.

Ella and Brendan and I stuck pretty close together in our freshman year. Then after Brendan died, I didn't feel much like socializing. So I haven't made new friends at Bayard. Natalie and Brooklyn seemed to be potential friends until this shit hit the fan with Ella.

I make a list of people I know who I could be friends with. There's Grace and Leah at SAPAP. I could ask them to go out for coffee or to a movie one night. There's Taisha at the diner. She probably has her own group of friends, but maybe we could go out after we get off work sometime. There's Justin in my psych class. He was being friendly to me that night at the party when Jacob got all jealous.

Jacob
had been jealous
.

My fingers go very still on the keyboard. I really thought he was starting to feel more for me. He admitted he was jealous. Was he just being a dick because some other guy was interested? Or does he really care?

I set my laptop aside and roll over onto my side, knees pulled up. Probably it's stupid to get my hopes up about that.

I have a plan. And I'm going to stick to it.

Sunday morning I go to church with the fam and then we go out for lunch. This is a good time to break the news to them because if it doesn't go well, I'm leaving right after lunch, anyway.

“So. I need to talk to you about something,” I announce after we've ordered.

“What is it, honey?” Mom lifts her eyebrows.

“School.” I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “I'm not going to try to get into med school.”

Elisha gasps. Mom and Dad blink at me. Mom's face falls. “Why not?” Her forehead creases. “Are you having trouble with your classes? You're not failing again, are you?”

The only time in my life I ever failed courses was last year, but Mom makes it sound like I do it all the time. She knows that the college entrance courses I did in high school were hard for me, especially math and physics, and how frustrated I got, but I
never
failed.

“The reason I failed last year was because of what happened with Brendan.”

“I know you were upset about that, honey, but you still should have buckled down and—”

“He raped me.”

Oh dear God. Did I really just say that?

My eyes fly open wide and I stare at my parents. Their mouths drop open, and silence expands painfully around us as the noise of the restaurant recedes.

Whoa.
That
wasn't part of my plan.

I pick up my coffee cup with trembling hands and take a sip. The hot liquid sloshes onto my lip, scalding me.

“Brendan raped you, Skylar?” Elisha asks softly, almost disbelievingly, from beside me.

“What the hell?” Dad's face is red and his mouth tightens.

“Dave.” Mom reaches out and lays a hand on his rigid forearm.

Our casual lunch has become tense and painful.

“I shouldn't have blurted that out.” I stare down at my coffee. “I'm sorry. I just…last year when I failed those two courses, it wasn't only because Brendan committed suicide. It was a lot more than that. You make it sound like I didn't try hard enough, but…I was dealing with a lot of stuff.”

Elisha squeezes my hand. “Skylar. Are you okay?”

I blink rapidly a few times. “I'm kind of…not.” I glance at her. “I went for counseling. I'm dealing with it. But never mind. We don't have to talk about it.”

“Why are you giving up on med school?” Elisha persists. “Are you dropping out of school?”

“No!” I pull in a long breath and let it out. “No, not at all. I've been trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I'm not enjoying most of my courses. Jacob…” Ah shit.

“Who's Jacob?” Elisha asks.

“A guy I've been…seeing.”

She gives a delighted laugh. “Hey! Why didn't you say something sooner? I was talking about Tony all weekend, and you didn't say a word.”

I can't explain why, so I shrug. “It's not that serious. Anyway, he made me realize how much I enjoy delivering training as part of my volunteer work, and that teaching would be a good career choice for me.”

“Skylar, changing your major is a big decision,” Mom says. “You shouldn't do something rash just because your courses are hard.”

She'd rather talk about that than the rape. Rape is not an easy thing to discuss. I get that. But it burns a little.

I tip my head to one side as I meet her eyes. “It's not that they're hard, Mom. I'm used to working hard. It's because being a doctor isn't what I really want to do with my life. It's what
Elisha
wants to do. I wanted you to be as proud of me as you are of her.”

Mom's forehead creases and Elisha makes a soft sound of dismay beside me.

“Skylar,” Mom says. “Of course we're proud of you.”

I bow my head. Her words don't really sound all full of pride. But I nod.

I tell them about my meeting with my faculty advisor and how supportive she is of my choices. “It's only my sophomore year. There's time for me to make this change. Lots of people don't figure out exactly what they want to do right away.”

“Why the hell are we talking about this?” Dad asks, his lips and jaw tight. “You just told us…Christ.” He stops and presses his lips together.

Oh man, I've really screwed this up. My stomach clenches. “I'm sorry, Dad.”

“Jesus! You don't apologize for something like that!” He takes a deep breath. “Let's talk about this at home.”

The waitress arrives with a big tray with our lunches on it. I've lost my appetite, but I spoon up some of the beer-and-cheese soup, and play with my salad. Nobody else is eating much either.

We finish our lunches with some stilted conversation and drive home. The snow that fell a couple days ago is melting, the sky a painful clear blue, water dripping from tree branches, the streets slushy.

Once we're in the house, there's an excruciating, uncomfortable silence. So I jump in. “I know how hard it is to talk about something like rape.” I bite my lip. “I've only told…two people about this, ever.” Jacob is one of them. “I probably should have told more people after it happened, but it was…painful.”

Dad closes his eyes and his hands clench into fists, and when I look over at Mom, tears are running down her face. I know other survivors who've never told their families what happened to them. This was one of my fears—that my family would be so upset. And that would upset me all over again. And I wasn't sure if I could handle that.

We move into the family room. I have no intention of sharing too many details, but I tell them briefly what happened, and all my confused and guilty feelings afterward. This is disturbing and confusing to them, with Brendan's suicide having happened so soon after it occurred, and it's hard for me too, emotion welling up inside me.

I can see my parents are struggling, especially Dad, who's not so good at talking about emotional things. His eyes are red and he doesn't say much.

“I wish you had told us,” Mom says.

She doesn't understand how complicated my feelings were right after. “It wasn't that easy,” I say quietly. “There were a lot of reasons. I knew you'd be upset and worried about me. And I was afraid people would blame me for Brendan's death.”

“Bullshit.”

My gaze snaps to Dad's face, his jaw tight and his eyes blazing.

“He knew he did a terrible thing,” Dad continues. “You are not responsible for that.”

I nod, my throat aching. “I also felt like I'd be letting you down. But then I let you down anyway, failing those courses.”

“Oh my God.” More tears stream down Mom's face. “Skylar.” She closes her eyes briefly and her mouth tightens. “I'm so sorry. Come here.” She stands and moves toward me with her arms outstretched.

Without thinking, I move too and I'm in her tight embrace. Her body is trembling and her arms squeeze me.

“I know you've sacrificed a lot for me to go to a good school.” I try to keep my voice steady. “I wanted to do well and make you proud. And I plan to be a damn good teacher. But if you don't want to help me with that, I understand.”

“Skylar. Honey.” She strokes my hair. “How could you even think that? Of course we'll support you in whatever you want to do. Right now the most important thing is that you're okay. I'm so sorry you didn't feel you could come to us when you needed to.”

My throat thickens and now I really can't talk.

“I'm glad you told somebody and got help. I'm proud of you, honey. What a strong, amazing woman you are.”

This time her words are sincere and my heart squeezes. I manage to choke out, “Thanks, Mom.”

As I drive back to Ridgedale later that afternoon, I'm lighter, my muscles looser. I don't know how my parents feel about my decision to become a teacher. Maybe they're disappointed. But I've been honest with them—and with myself—and that's a relief. And I know they care about me.

Maybe this means I really do need to tell Ella about what happened. Because there's an even bigger wall between us now and being honest with her is probably the only thing that's ever going to knock it down. That wasn't part of the plan I drew up last night, but now I think it should be. Maybe she still won't want to be friends with me, but I'll be okay. I'm going to make new friends and move on. Like I have from the other crap.