Silence (11 page)

“See you later,” he says, and then he hands me one of the drinks so he can take my arm. He leads me away from them and away from the humiliation. And it is over. Just like that.

I think he’s going to stop at the tables in the food court, but he doesn’t. His hand is strong on my arm as he guides me all the way back to his truck.

Then, and only then, does he let go of me. He sets the food on the hood of the car then takes the pretzels and drink out of my hands. One hand is cold from the drink. The other warm from the pretzels. Both are shaking.
I
am shaking. My eyes start to blur, and I feel nausea well up inside of me. I am gasping for breath. Hayden takes my hands in his and holds them tight. Standing so close to me, he smells like chocolate and the ocean, the wind and the sun. I don’t know how long we stand like that. I only know that I feel like I am drawing strength from his body. I am breathing him in.

His expression is serious. Concerned. And something else. Something that lingers like the last bit of starlight in a new morning sky.

“I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “Not your fault.”

He insists. “It’s too soon. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

I shake my head again. “I’m glad you did.”

“I’m going to take you home now.”

His words hurt. I know he doesn’t mean them to, but they do. I feel like he wants to get rid of me, like I have been imagining our connection. The moments. And I am once again the stray puppy on the side of the road.

I can’t speak. I feel one traitorous tear run down my cheek. I reach up to brush it away. Hayden opens the door for me. He gathers up the junk food and crosses to his side, where he puts the food on the floor.

We drive home in silence.

Silence is my life.

BEST FRIENDS FOREVER

— 
Stella
 —

I
was so happy 2 c u 2day. U look amazing. Über amazing. I am so sorry u had to c me with Connor like that. I wanted to tell u in person. We’re sort of seeing each other. I wanted to talk to u more, but SC pulled u away so fast. He was très rude. Is he your BF now? Maybe I can come over 2morrow so we can talk. BFF, Lily.

I wish I could say I want to talk to her. That I think her words are genuine. Or that seeing her with Connor didn’t bother me, but it did. More than I realized. I can’t pinpoint why Connor is angry with me. Except that maybe I am a reminder of that night. He wasn’t a hero that night. Probably for the first time ever. Even though I don’t blame him. Maybe he blames himself. Which makes him angry with me.

I wanted to go back to school on Monday. Now I’m not so sure.

I don’t write back to Lily.

I have nothing to say.

Reflection in a mirror

— 
Hayden
 —

I made a mistake.

A colossal mistake.

I didn’t think it through. I didn’t think about people she might see. How she would feel. I was only thinking about myself. Impressing her and being the hero.

Saying good-bye to her just now, I felt like it might be the last time. Maybe Stella won’t want to see me again.

I didn’t know what to say except sorry, and that didn’t seem like enough. She looked so broken, so sad. Today erased all of yesterday’s progress, and set her back. She had to see her friends like that, and with me.

I promised Stella’s mother that I would take good care of her, and I broke that promise. That’s all I could think about on the drive home. Every time I glanced at Stella, her eyes were staring out the windshield as if she couldn’t get home fast enough—couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

All I could do was walk her to the front door, make sure she got inside, and leave.

I turn left at the corner and pull into an empty parking lot at a park. It is almost sunset. The park is empty, but I know the bench where the homeless man sleeps every night. I have seen him here before when I have come here to think, to get away.

I meant to share this food with Stella. Instead, I am giving it to a stranger.

He is sleeping when I approach, so I set down the drink and snacks near his shopping cart. He will find it later, after I am gone.

I walk back to my truck, listening to the birds call their good nights to one another. A squirrel scurries in front of me, dashing away to climb up the nearest tree. A little boy walks home hand in hand with his mother. I watch them, imagining what their life must be like. How lucky they are to have each other.

My mother never held my hand, never smiled at me like that.

When I think of her hands, they are clenched into fists. Breaking things, causing pain, hurting me.

Stella makes me forget about all of that. About everything that came before her—all of it. I get lost in her, in the moments.

And so at the mall, I wasn’t paying attention. Seeing her best friend like that, with him, seemed to knock the wind out of her. And I did nothing. I froze, like I always do when someone talks to me. I don’t see them anymore. Instead, I see my mother, yelling at me, demanding that I speak.

Stop ruining my life
, she would say.
Speak.

But I didn’t speak, because even after everything she did to me, I still loved her. I knew my silence would protect her. And me. People didn’t notice anything wrong. They didn’t see the cuts and bruises—or they didn’t want to see them.

Until I stopped speaking, until I was silent. It was silence that saved my life.

Speak!
The voice screams in my ears. Yet I can’t say a word.

But today, when Stella looked at me, something happened. Pleading, begging me to save her. She was counting on me. Her need was greater than my own, and I had to protect her. So I did what I had to do—I found my voice, and I took her away from them.

But it was too late; the damage was done. I could see it in the tears swimming in her eyes. All I knew was that I made her cry. Her tears pierced my heart.

Holding her hands, standing so close, I never wanted to let go.

I only hope she can forgive me.

ME AGAIN

— 
Stella
 —

If I am going back to school on Monday, I need to be caught up. That’s what I tell Mom and Emerson, anyway. I don’t want to tell them about my afternoon. I avoid them with homework. I plow through Spanish and health. Then I escape with Hamlet. Somehow, I can identify with him. His frustration. His disillusionment with the world around him. I find comfort in his words.

O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d
His canon ’gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on’t, ah fie! ’tis an unweeded garden
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely.

I lie on my bed, reread the passage over and over. Let the language seep into me like rain seeping into parched summer grass.

Seeing Lily and Connor was a neon sign reminding me of what I have lost. I’ve lost everything. They have lost nothing. The accident that cost me my dream has made Lily’s dream come true. It gave her popularity. A boyfriend on the football team. A spot on the varsity cheerleading squad.

I imagine how I must have looked to them—to Hayden—in my silent bubble.

He wanted to get rid of me after that. I really am some kind of charity case.

That last thought bothers me the most. Hayden. More than Connor. More than Lily.

I want to disappear.

I close my eyes, seeking the blackness where I am free.

Suddenly, I am floating. Drifting down, down, down. In a sea of words and confusion, I don’t know who I am. I don’t exist. I am nothing.

The darkness surrounds me. Blankets me. Erases me. Then a hand reaches out. Touches mine. Grasps for me. I take hold. Know this is my chance at survival. My chance to breathe again.

The hand pulls me upward, to the light. I want the light. The hope. I want to breathe again. To be me.

I burst from the water, gasping for air. I am enveloped in strong arms. I am safe. I am me.

I look up and see only blue.

I wake up confused. Disoriented. Sweaty.

I remember everything. My body trembles. I wrap myself in a blanket and reach for the glass beside my bed. Take a long drink, letting the cool water glide down my throat. Calming me. I am here. I know that now.

I cannot disappear. I cannot give up.

This happened for a reason. Someday I will understand why. For now, I have to keep going.

I have to believe in myself.

I have to trust in me.

I reach for my phone to connect with him somehow. To ground me in this reality.

I find a message from him.

I’m so sorry about what happened. I promise I’ll be more careful with you, if you’ll let me.

He wants to spend more time with me? I don’t understand it. Not when I embarrassed him. I text him back, even though it’s the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your fault. I’m ok.

Liar,
I accuse myself after writing the last part. But I don’t want to be his charity case anymore.

I don’t expect him to respond, but within seconds, he has texted back. A shiver runs through me as I realize that he, too, is awake right now. It makes me feel close to him.

I know you aren’t ok. You don’t have to pretend with me. I want to be the one person you never have to pretend with. Just be yourself.

I read his message over and over. Let the words wash over me to wash the humiliation away. They leave me fresh. Ready to begin again.

His words and my own determination give me the courage to reply.

I won’t pretend. But u can’t pretend either. B honest. Why r u really doing this? Because u feel sorry for me? Cause u don’t have 2 anymore.

My heart races. I have never been so honest. With myself or anyone else. The prospect is exciting and terrifying at the same time. Both turn my stomach upside down and make the back of my neck suddenly damp.

Minutes tick by. He doesn’t answer. Moments of my life are spent staring at a cell phone. I won’t stare at it any longer. I’m going back to bed. Back to my dreams. Or nightmares.

That’s when he answers.

I don’t feel sorry for you. I thought I was helping. I want to help you, but the truth is that you are helping me. Like no one ever has.

His words fill me with joy. Pure joy. I want to jump up and dance around my room. I breathe in and taste hope. Then I write back.

U r helping me 2.

I press
send
then type:
I am going back to school on Monday. After today, I know how hard it will be, but I need to go.

He answers right away, like he is sitting beside me.

I know.

See you tomorrow at 2:30?

16

— 
Stella
 —

It’s a typical Saturday morning. Saturdays used to be family days, full of forced activities no one really wanted to do, but we all felt obligated to pretend to enjoy. But ever since Dad moved out and we became a split family, the pretense is gone, and we can be ourselves. On Saturdays, we are free to do whatever makes us happy, which, for Mom, is planting flowers. For Emerson, it is dancing. She is already dressed in her leotard and tights, hair pulled back into a tight bun. Mom is decked out in army pants and clogs, but she has to work before she can dig in the dirt.

Mom’s an accountant. She mostly works from home, so her schedule is pretty flexible except in March and April—tax season. With everything going on with me, Mom has taken entire days off. She must be behind schedule. She has been working really late the past few nights; I can tell by the circles underneath her eyes. She surely has work to finish before she can go outside.

“I can help with your work,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen in surprise. She smiles, happy to have my help. Mom shows me which office tasks I can do. I get started while she drives Emerson to the dance studio. I begin by assembling packages for Mom’s clients. I make copies of tax returns and stamp them
copy
. Each tax return and copy go into a special navy blue folder with extra envelopes that hold federal and state tax returns. Then I put everything into a giant mailing envelope. I like the mechanical nature of the task; it is relaxing. I don’t have to think too much, so I can let my mind drift.

I think about Hayden.

He’s an unknown to me. Maybe that’s why I like him so much. Maybe, if I’m being honest, I also like that he seems to understand me even though he hasn’t known me for long. He was right when he said I couldn’t imagine myself differently. I couldn’t. I only thought about Someday Broadway. It was my everything. I was so focused that I lost track of everything else. I used to like other things.

Now I can’t really remember what those things were.

I thought I knew who I was. But I was limiting myself to being one thing. Defining myself by my talent. There’s more to me than that. More I can give. More I can share. The truth is, I’m starting to like this new Stella better than the old Stella.

My mind turns again to Hayden. I think of the day he walked into the theater. When he stepped onto the stage. How nervous I was to sing in front of him. Until he began playing. Then I remember something else. That day was also the first time I heard him speak.

And I was disappointed in the sound of his voice. That it wasn’t smooth and commanding. Or accented. How much importance I placed on sounds then. Sounds I can’t hear now. I remember the first time he said my name. It sounded beautiful the way he drew out each letter like music. And it hits me. The reason I can understand Hayden.