When I Forget You (13 page)

Ch
apter 32: Healing -->

             
So I know I fell asleep in Kade’s arms yesterday and I know he took me to bed, and let me sleep all day yesterday. So now it’s Monday and Kade, mom, and I are driving to school. Mom is in the front seat driving, Kade is in the passenger seat, I am in the back seat, behind my mom. I look at Kade and he looks back at me. I think Lindsey reminded him that today I am going to tell the office about Henry and how he is suicidal. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it, knowing it’s the one thing that has always comforted me.

             
We pull into the school parking lot and my breathing picks up more and more the closer my mom and I get to the guidance counselor's room. Kade went his separate way once we all got to the entrance to the school. He went to his first period, as mom and I walked toward the back of the school.

             
We get to the guidance counselor’s office, and I stop in front of the door, scared to go in. “You can do it, baby,” my mom says. “Just be honest,” she continues. I reach for the handle to open the door. When mom starts to follow me in, I tell her I want to talk to the guidance counselor alone and handle this horrible situation like a big girl. She rubs my back and tells me she will be right outside waiting as I walk in. You can do this. It feels good to hear myself supporting my heart and body. Even though no one else is here to support me in the scary room, I am here for myself, and it’s the best feeling in the world. I don’t remember the last time I was actually on my own side.

             
The guidance counselor looks up from her computer screen and I stop breathing. Breathe, Becca. In and out. She gives me a soft smile. I give her a nervous one.

             
“Hey, sweetie, what’s up?” She motions for me to sit down probably thinking I just want to talk about my problems and not somebody else’s. She probably thinks I need help with like my parents or something. Sometimes I wish I had problems with my parents instead of emotional abuse, but then I look at the people with parents that are divorced and cry even just thinking about my parents being apart.

             
“Um, I’m Becca,” I say. I sit in the chair, thank goodness. The chair is blue with brown wood supporting the blue cloth. I’m glad I can get my body to sit in the chair because I don’t think my legs would have lasted any longer.

             
“Alrightie, Becca, what’s up?” She asks once again as she crosses her fingers and twiddles her thumbs, something that reminds me of my insane cat-lady sixth grade English teacher. She would tell us to twiddle our thumbs when we got bored. Fucking weirdo. I take out my phone, not caring about the school rules since no one follows that shit anyways. I scroll to Henry’s name in my messages and bring up our conversation. My heart is pounding so fast that I swear you can see it. I just bring up the message that says:

Becca please, if you don’t talk to me I might commit suicide. I am so lonely and depressed, and you are my world. So without you, I have nothing else to live for.

I shove my phone toward her, not being able to stare at the text any longer, and she takes it in her hands. I study the lady while she reads the text message conversation. I try my best not to break down right there in a full on meltdown when I see her eyes go wide. So I concentrate on her looks. She has short brown hair, is really tall, and has the cutest outfit ever. A long brown skirt and pink shirt with a brown, pink, and blue scarf. I love scarfs. She has an engagement ring on and her makeup is fresh, like she just put it on, and it’s a small and natural amount.

             
“So who is this Henry boy?” She asks.

             
I take a breath. “His name is Henry Joseph, he is also a senior,” I tell her calmly. She takes out a green sticky note and begins jotting down notes. Oh, God.

             
“How do you know him?” She looks up from the phone at me, and my breath hitches.

             
“He was my best friend,” I tell her.

             
“Deep breaths, honey. And was?” She tests. I really fucking hate when people tell me to breathe. I will breathe on my own time, thank you very much. And I really fucking hate telling counselors about my problems. Like what the hell can they do? I don’t even know why I’m here anymore. All it does is bring all the negativity back. I feel trapped in the room. The walls are slowly coming closer toward me. I feel like a dumbass when I cross my fingers and twiddle my thumbs. Dear, God, help me. I’m drowning under negative thoughts. I’m not doing the right thing. I’m overreacting. All this pain happens to everyone else, right? I’m such a pansy. I’m just doing this for attention. God, I hate myself.

             
“Yes, he was emotionally abusive so I ended our friendship,” I say.

             
“How so?” She asks. Oh just shut the fuck up you bitch. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me, or do you just suck ass at your job? That’s when I start crying. She hands me a tissue. It’s scented, so I don’t use it to blow my nose, just dab my makeup away from my eyelids. I hate scented tissues.

             
“He would call me names, cyberbully me, talk behind my back, but never say anything to me in person,” I say. “He was so nice in person, but immediately between other friends and social media, he would turn into a bully,” I continue. In unprofessional words, the kind I like to use, he’s the biggest fuckin’ pussy the world has seen.

             
“I see. And when did you stop being his friend?” She looks at me, writing everything I say down on that stupid ass sticky note.

             
“About three months ago,” I say. “July, to be specific,” I add on, hating myself for knowing the exact date. July 7th, 2012 at four o’clock. I remember because I was rehearsing for my solo for our concert on November 9th. It was a Wednesday.

             
“What kind of things did he say to you? What did he do to you, abusive wise?” I hate you I hate you I hate you, so fucking much, mother fucker. She picks up the phone and puts it up to her ear. Does this mean I don’t have to answer her stupid fucking question? Nope. She looks at me and raises her eyebrows, wanting me to go on.

             
“I don’t like to talk about it. The point is, he’s obsessive and now saying he is going to commit suicide if I don’t talk to him. So I would like it out of my hands and into the authority’s hands,” I say as she dials a couple numbers into the phone’s keypad. I just want to fucking have the problem out of my hands to cover my ass. If Henry commits suicide, I don’t want to think for the rest of my life that it was my fault. That’s all I would be able to think about. She mutters Henry’s full name into the phone and then asks the person on the other end of the line to see if he is in school today. She nods to whatever the person on the other end is saying and then says “okay, see you soon.” And that is it. She puts the phone back in its charger and smiles at me once again. I take my phone and text my mom telling her I have everything under control and for her to go home. She texts back saying okay and good luck. I text her back a kissy face. She says Kade is waiting for me outside when I’m done. Somehow, that is the most comforting thing I have been able to hear all day, aside from him giving me that hand squeeze today in the car. The next minute, the on-campus sheriff is coming in the room.

             
“Rebecca?” He asks as he enters the room with Kade following behind him. “This young man says you wanted him in here for moral support, is that true?” I didn’t exactly ask him to be here, but Kade is good at keeping me calm. I stand up and shake the sheriff’s hand all formal and all, and Kade rests his hand on my lower back.

             
“Yeah, he’s fine,” I tell the sheriff. I relax a little when Kade sits in my chair’s twin next to me.

             
“Okay then. Now, Rebecca, I was in the office when Miss Guidance Counselor over here-excuse me I don’t know your name, I am new – and Henry’s mom just dropped him off, so we know he didn’t commit suicide,” the sheriff says. Most schools only have security guards, but we have such a big drug problem here the school decided to just have a 24/7 sheriff on campus. It’s quite annoying and pretty pathetic.

             
“That’s good,” I tell him. The sheriff keeps calling me Rebecca, which isn’t exactly annoying, just weird, but I’m too busy with other things, obviously, so I don’t correct him.

             
“So, I will contact his mom and Miss Guidance Counselor will talk to Henry himself, and it will be out of your hands,” that’s all he says and it feels good to finally have someone not question the situation further. He stands up, shakes my hand and walks out of the room. I just started breathing again, I think.

             
“Now you have nothing to worry about, Becca. We will take care of it,” Miss Guidance Counselor says as she gives me a warm smile. I don’t exactly believe these words, but I don’t believe anything anyone says these days. She’s a nice lady, but she doesn’t have to fucking smile at me. We both know the last thing I want is to be smiled at. What a kiss ass. I don’t have the energy to even form one of my fake smiles.

             
“Thanks,” I say. I get up and look at Kade, signaling him to follow me as a tear slips down my cheek. This is all too much for me. I’m not supposed to know what this feels like. I’m only seventeen. I’m supposed to be dealing with how my boyfriend broke up with me and how my best friend is being a bitch. I don’t want to be responsible if Henry does commit suicide. Knowing me, the good person that I am, I would say “Oh shit, he committed suicide because I wouldn’t talk to him. I am so selfish.” I would feel like it is my fault. Wait, why am I thinking about this? This hasn’t even happened yet. I focus on not tripping over my feet as I walk out of the classroom with Kade behind me. Once we get out of the office, I sit at the end of the ramp and begin to sob. Kade just sits next to me, wraps his arm around me, and lets me sob, once again, in his arms.

Chapter 33
: Healing -->

             
That night, of course, I can’t sleep. There’s no such thing as a sleeping pattern in my fucking life. But when I get up out of bed and walk down the stairs, Kade already has the ice cream out. He’s sitting on the couch watching Full House re-runs, since once again it is one in the morning. I sit next to him on the couch and he hands me the extra spoon. We sit there quietly for about an hour, watching Full House and sharing the tub of ice cream.

             
“My mom says she is going to come visit in about two weeks, when it gets closer to Halloween. She wants to be here for your favorite Holiday,” he tells me.

             
“You talked to her?”

             
“Yeah,” he says. I can feel my face fall with my emotion. I’m glad Kade got to talk to his mom, but I wish Cynthia would call me too. I need her. I know she knows that, but it would be nice if she took the time to talk to me too. “She misses both of us, she says.” I wouldn’t know myself. Stop being a selfish bitch, Becca.

             
“Is Rey coming too?”

             
“No, he’s going to stay behind and look after the house,” Kade replies. In Mexico, Cynthia and Rey own a huge house and farm. So it’s not like they are suffering in Mexico, which comforts me, but I would do anything to have them be here in the US. It’s hard to wake up to Kade’s face. He reminds me so much of Cynthia and Rey. His face resembles them both equally, and the scruff on his chin reminds me of Rey when he doesn’t shave. Cynthia always tells the boys in her family to shave and she always tells me to fix my hair. Cynthia is big on her kid’s presentation, though she doesn’t really care what she wears or what her hair looks like. She says she has no time to pick out the perfect outfit for work like I do for school. She also says I don’t have my future yet, so I might as well dress for success. She already is an adult with a job, so she doesn’t really need to dress for the success that she already has.

             
“When did you talk to her?” I ask.

             
“Yesterday, when you were in the meeting with the guidance counselor,” he responds.

             
“Did she ask to talk to me?”             

             
“Yes,” he says.

             
“What did you say?”

             
“That you were in a meeting for school,” he says simply.

             
“Did she buy it?”

             
“Nah, of course not. She knows I was covering you for something,” he chuckles and shakes his head. I know he’s thinking about when we were little. We would always cover for each other. Yeah, Cynthia, Kade brushed his teeth. Kade still to this day hates brushing his teeth, but he does it now, thank God.

             
“I just haven’t told her about the suicide thing,” I say.

             
“But she knows about Henry?” Fuck, I got myself into this one for sure.

             
“Yeah, she met him when Henry and I were best friends. He would come over every Friday after school,” I say.

             
“She knows what he did to you?” Why is he asking me this if not even he knows what he did to me? Maybe he’s just curious. Probably since he heard what I said to the guidance counselor, he just knows Henry did something horrible to me. He doesn’t know what, though, and I would like to keep it like that.

             
“Yeah,” I say.

             
“What did he do to you?” Why does he have to ask? I freeze. I think I even stop breathing. I’m not very good at remembering to breathe, so I have to remind myself a lot. In and out. I look at him straight in the eye, and I can no longer hear the conversation between D.J. and Michelle on Full House. The room caves in and it’s just Kade and me. My heart is beating and I feel tears stinging my eyes, dying for me to let them escape. The big lump is in my throat once again. But I’m so sick and tired of crying on Kade’s shoulder. I just want Cynthia.

             
He runs a hand through his brown locks and sighs. Not a bad sigh, but one of those where you’re thinking really hard about something and you just don’t know what to do. It’s like he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking about. He looks at me and, oh my god, I usually don’t say “oh my god,” but this is a moment where it’s necessary. Is it just me or is the world spinning? No, it can’t be. Nah, it’s not happening. But it is. He’s leaning in to me. Nope, not happening. I can feel him coming closer, his breath on my face. I feel his knee touch mine, he’s definitely scooting closer. Then in the quietest voice, he says my name. His lips are so close to mine now and I feel my pulse beat so hard I think it may stop. I have chills all up my body and my head dizzy. My hands are getting warmer. He sighs again. His lips are so close it makes my breath hitch. I feel his warm exhale on my face, and a shiver runs through my body once more.

             
Then he quickly gets up from the couch and leaves me sitting there in daze. I snap out of the dreamland and try to get my head screwed on straight. The buzz is gone. I look over at him putting his ice cream bowl in the sink, unfinished. He doesn’t even look at me when he passes the couch, he just goes upstairs as fast as he can without running. I watch him walk upstairs without a sound. He runs a hand through his hair again and then I hear his bedroom door close. He’s still trying to not wake my parents. I imagined the whole thing. Nice going Becc, I think to myself. Real smooth. I imagined the whole thing. Right? Right?