Being There Page 2
I down my glass of wine with haste before getting up to grab the remaining bottle and pour another glass. I don’t care that I’ll have a headache later because if it’s not the wine, it’ll be from the tears, so what does it matter. I will cry until I have nothing left in me to cry because the chaos, that is my life, leaves me in a state of uncertainty and I hate it. I need order, I need reasons and answers and after weeks of waiting for answers, I wish I had another week of not knowing.
I could sit here all night and feel sorry for myself, but I’m thankful that I’m beginning to feel numb. When exhaustion takes over, I lie down on the couch and glance at the now empty bottle sitting on the coffee table. I pathetically take note of how empty I feel as well. The radio is playing a soft song as I hug my favorite novelty Elvis pillow to my chest and rest my eyes because I don’t want to think anymore.
My outburst was cathartic, but I would have been mortified if anyone else had seen it. I needed it and I suppose I needed the sleep that followed. I pull out my phone to see that I have slept the last hour and have missed calls and texts that I need to answer to. Great. I start to scroll through them noticing they are all from mom and Nev, which means they’re freaking out.
4:28 p.m. - Nev: Thanks for calling back!
4:41 p.m. - Nev: Hello?
4:47 p.m. - Nev: Okay, now I’m pissed
5:00 p.m. - Nev: Call me! Now!
5:08 p.m. - Nev: I’m coming over
I dial her number in a hurry hoping to catch her before she gets to my place. Lord knows she’ll bang on my door and anyone else’s until she gets a response.
“What the hell took you so long? I was getting worried,” she spats at me, answering on the first ring.
“Where are you?” I ask before answering her questions because I’m worried that she’s on her way and I don’t want her to see me, yet, because she will know something is up the moment she looks at me.
I hear some clattering noises in the background before she answers me, “I was just heading out the door to your place. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say with feigned exhaustion, “I got home from work and fell asleep.”
“You fell asleep,” she repeats incredulously. I never rest, and she knows this. But she also knows that I have been working nonstop, so I’m sure she won’t think anything more of it.
“It’s been a long day, Mr. Marx gave me Janet’s work to do, and now I am just trying to stay afloat.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
“Girl, you need to say no every once in a while. And all I know is, you better be done with your work before this weekend because you are not bringing that shit to the house.” She can be so demanding sometimes, but I am in total agreement. I have no desire to bring work with me this weekend.
“Don’t worry,” I start out, “I’m really looking forward to the trip.”
She’s silent for a moment, no doubt analyzing my response. “Wow, I thought I was going to have drag you on this trip kicking and screaming,” she teases.
“Whatever,” I drag out, “so maybe in the past you’ve had to do some convincing, but I need this trip, alright? Just call it the new me because I’m going to go and have a great time, and maybe I’ll try something I haven’t done before.” Before she can respond I add in exaggerated excitement, “Who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone when we go out on Saturday.”
“About that,” she pauses, “yes, we are going to go out to meet up with everyone, but I’m bringing Luke,” she sounds hesitant to continue. I’ve heard her mention his name a few times, but have yet to actually meet him.
“Okay-,” I drag out, “are you trying to tell me something? Are you going up with him? Do I need to drive myself?” I ask in quick succession.
“No, of course not, it’s just, well,” she sounds unsure, “he’s bringing a friend.” Before I can interject anything, she is quick to explain, “But I promise, this is not a set up! They were going on their own trip, and I just kinda invited them along with us?” Her voice got annoyingly high as though she is asking my permission.
I stay silent, knowing she is anxious as to what I might say. “Alrighty then, so we’ll meet them there.”
“That’s it? You’re not mad?” I can tell from her sigh she is relieved and shocked that I don’t seem to be giving her shit about it. Normally I would, but I just don’t have the energy to fight her right now.
“Should I be mad? Is there something I should know about this guy?”
“No, not at all, I was just afraid you were going to give me shit about it,” she admits sounding relieved.
“Oh, I am going to give you shit, because you have some explaining to do, Nevaeh Evans. Like, why have I not met him yet? How did you meet? And a slew of others.” I add in warning, “And don’t think that I’m not going to interrogate him the moment I have a chance!”
She lets out a groan, indicating that our conversation is ending, “I’m sure he will have no problem answering your questions, but right now, I gotta go. I’m supposed to meet him at six and I still haven’t finished my hair.”
“Details lady! I want details. Before the trip, preferably,” I warn.
She just laughs because it’s rare that I get to question her about someone she’s dating. Payback is a bitch. “I’ll call you later. Love you,” she shouts as she hangs up.
I’m so grateful to have Nevaeh in my life. She has been the sister I never had and always wanted. But I am curious about the guy she’s dating because she hasn’t told me much about him. She’s not exactly the conservative type, so I wonder if he is straight-laced or a free spirit like her. Whatever he’s like, I hope he doesn’t try to change her like Charlie did. He was such a douche, acting like she was perfect until it mattered to him and he begged her to “tone it down,” around his coworkers. There’s nothing to tone down; she is perfect just as she is. I love her crazy sense of style, unique tattoos and ever-changing hair color. Those things may change, but the things that matter, like her loyalty, kindness and beauty always stay the same. Charlie never deserved her, so I hope this Luke is a good guy.
I glance one last time to check the time noting that it’s as good a time as any to make the phone call to mom and dad. I’m sure I’m going to get an earful from her about everything, but I just wanted to avoid it a little longer. I exhale and prepare for the conversation that’s about to happen.
“Here goes nothing,” I say to myself before dialing the number.
Two hours later, I am finally off the phone with mom. That was the hardest phone call I have ever had to make. She cried. I knew she would, which in turn made me cry. But it’s not like I wasn’t having that problem on my own anyway. Dad was pretty composed, which is pretty shocking because he is the first to show his feelings. But I guess he had to “man up” for mom, and I’m so glad he did because she needs him to be strong right now.
It took quite a bit of convincing on my part to keep mom from boarding the first flight to come out and be with me. I told her that, not only is there nothing left to do right now, but I am also going to be out of town this weekend anyway. I assured her I would let her know as soon as I have them scheduled so she could make arrangements. Truth be told, I’m going to need to have her there with me.
“You need to get a second opinion,” she instructed me. “These doctors don’t know everything –“
“Mom,” I cut her off before her rant continues, “I have my second opinion, and I’m trying to accept it, and I need you to accept it too. But hear me when I tell you, I’m going to be okay. I know it.”
For once, I hate being alone. My condo isn’t exactly huge, but I feel lost anyway and that nap I took earlier has left me with a second wind. I grab a glass and another bottle of wine and then put away the pillow from my earlier meltdown before shutting off all the lights and heading upstairs to my bedroom. I should clean up the mess I left, but since I don’t care to, I just decide to leave it. It’ll all be waiting for me in the morning. I take the stai
rs two at a time and flip the switch at the top of the landing before entering my bedroom. My large bed is normally a source of solace for me, but rather than lose myself in it, I drop to the floor and stick my hand under my bed, feeling around for the box that I know lies beneath. This box stays hidden from everyone, but it’s there and I only use it when I need a boost. Dragging my hand over one box and then another, I feel the indentations of the one I’m looking for and pull it out to set it on my lap.
I haven’t looked in this box since I moved into this condo two years ago and even then, I pulled it out only a few times. Since I have nothing better to do, I throw the large box on top of my bed and empty the contents haphazardly. Images slide across my purple and black floral comforter bringing a genuine smile to my face. These are my past; everything that I have done is somehow contained in one eighteen by twelve inch box.
I choose one to look at and remember well the moment that is captured. It’s Nev and me before the homecoming game senior year. We had no desire to wear the stupid mums or dress up, so instead we opted to paint our faces in school spirit colors, red and black. We were sticking our tongues out at the yearbook photographer, whom we were able to get a copy from. I think we ended up leaving the game early and meeting up with a few other friends who didn’t want to deal with the homecoming hoopla either, and just hung out. We found out later that night that my best friend Drew won the junior court, and I felt like the worst friend ever.
The next picture I pull out makes me laugh outright, because it’s another of Nev and me, only this time Drew is with us. The three of us had gone to a concert and Nev made us stick around until the very end in hopes of seeing the band. She had a huge crush on the lead singer and Drew kept teasing her that she was wasting her time, when lo and behold the guy walks past us and she started screaming like a ten-year-old girl seeing a boy-bander for the first time. The guy was so freaked out that when he stopped to see what was going on, Nev rushed him and begged for a picture. He obliged, probably out of fear, and the look on her face is priceless, the epitome of someone who just proved Drew wrong. I was in complete bliss because I was with my two favorite people acting like fools. I grab my iPhone and take a snapshot of that image to post on Facebook with a random post.
“It was stalk at first sight.”
The more I pour over the images, I see more of me and Nev and Drew, and that makes me miss the old days. I would never want to relive those times, but I miss the freedom I felt back then, when things were so much simpler. I miss my two best friends who made me laugh every day, and were always there to offer whatever it was that I needed. I thought I knew everything back then and that I had all the answers, when in reality it was just my invincibility that let me feel that. I must be feeling overly sentimental because I post yet another comment on Facebook before moving on to the rest of the images in my box.
“People come into your life for a reason and they’re not always meant to remain forever.”
The last image I pull out causes me to catch my breath because I remember when this picture was taken, I just haven’t looked at it in a while. It was from when Drew and I first became friends. We both look so young in our semi-formal attire, wearing the biggest grins anyone could imagine. He had his arm around my shoulder as if staking his claim, but he had just met me a few weeks prior. I remember our first conversation well because I thought I was going to have to kick his ass on the spot.
The Past: A Girl by Any Other Name
“All right everyone, listen up,” a raspy voice, belonging to Coach Pierce yelled trying to get our attention. Everyone called her Coach P, and she was quite intimidating, all two hundred, red-haired pounds of her, and yet there was something about her that I liked. “Everyone did a great job out there today, unfortunately, we only have fifteen openings on the team. So, if you hear your name, head to the back room for your locker assignment and jersey. If you don’t hear your name, I’m sorry, but maybe we’ll see you next year.”
Everything about her demeanor screamed that she wouldn’t take crap from anyone because her voice was one that commanded a room, and I liked that about her. I’d only been to tryouts, so that had been the extent of my exposure to the legend that was Coach P, but it was enough that I respected the hell out of her. I pretended not to listen as I heard her yell random names, crossing my fingers that I heard mine soon.
I promised myself I would get out of my shell in tenth grade since my freshman year was spent flying below the radar, getting good grades and overall just blending in as much as possible. I was never one to make waves and being a relative unknown, the chances of me making the varsity team were slim, at best. I was pretty good at soccer since I had played for years, but it was through a recreational league and trying out for the high school team meant a level of seriousness and commitment that I had yet to engage in. The girls at tryouts were beasts and would do almost anything to make the team, and I knew that most of the upperclassmen were sure to get it.
Coach continued to call names while I sat on the bleachers with a knotted up stomach, wishing I had someone to keep me company. Instead, I was thumbing through the emails on my phone hoping for something to distract me from my impending fate. Still, I was proud of myself for showing up since even trying out for anything was out of character for me.
I was never much of a social butterfly, and the few friends that I did have were pretty much like me, I guess. Bookworms, nerds, and geeks made up my dysfunctional group, but we worked. None of us were really into parties, so that scene was beyond me and I didn’t date either, but not for a lack of trying. I figured the only way for me to get out there and broaden my social arena was to try out for a team sport. That whole “no I in team” mentality had me doing the unthinkable, and my friends were pretty supportive, but my parents were another story.
My parents, Chris and Annette, were just plain shocked when I announced I was trying out. The wannabe hippies thought I was crazy. These were the same people who named me Prudence Cassiopia. (Seriously!) Pot, meet kettle. To say they were a little anxious about my plan was an understatement. My decision to even tryout led to numerous discussions about organized sports and how they don’t allow you to think for yourself. They equated athletes with Neanderthals because they saw it as competition. Which it is. I just happened to be of the mindset that healthy competition is good for you.
In the end, since I was their only kid, and to tell me what to do would go against their parenting style, they relented. That’s the way all decisions went in our home. We would have a debate, share ideas, and in the end, the choice was always mine. Unconventional would be the best word to describe them. I suppose in some regards, I kind of raised myself. (Think Christian Slater in Heathers, just not so creepy.)
“Prudence Howard,” the sudden sound of my given name echoing across the gym brought me out of my thoughts. I had never gone by that name and in fact tried desperately to make people forget that it was my name. But no such luck because every class roster and legal document had that damn name attached to it.
“Cassi,” I corrected Coach P as I made my way toward the locker room.
The short walk had me regretting my decision to join. What in the hell was I thinking doing this? I was in the middle of castigating myself as I opened the door to a room of chattering girls that fell silent the moment I entered. Oh fucking fantastic, I’ve joined a team with those girls.
One girl scoffed disgusted with my presence, and she was not at all happy to see me. I guess there’s one in every group and Katherine Smith was the soccer queen bee. She was acting like an animal marking her territory with her bitchiness and my defenses were up immediately.
“So, who are you?” She fumed as she sized me up and down, but really, what was there to size up? I was a damn sophomore and it was obvious she was trying to make some sort of statement.
“Cassi Howard,” I said righting my posture and lifting my chin a little higher. I hoped I looked more confident than I felt. Taking in a deep breath,
I mentally repeated, my mantra for the day.
Fake it ‘til you make it. Fake it ‘til you make it.
“I thought it was Prudence,” she stated with a smirk, and it was obvious she knew it would annoy me. “So what are you, a freshman?” The look of annoyance she was giving me was enough to make me a little braver.
“Sophomore, and it’s Cassi,” I corrected her, “Coach just called my name and told me to head back.”
“Well, Prudence,” she sneered in irritation with my presence, “I’m Kat, team captain, and you had better be good, because if you’re in here, that means I have someone out there with experience who didn’t make the team and I will not spend my last year in a losing season.”
Quite the fitting name that girl had, Kat because this bitch had claws and for whatever reason, they were aimed for my jugular. No doubt I would be on the receiving end of her ire, unless I proved myself. I was never brave or outspoken, although I always wished I was, and I knew that was the opportunity to make or break my place on the team. Summoning whatever was left of my backbone; I opened my mouth to speak when Coach’s sudden presence was felt all of a sudden. She walked in carrying a box and it only took her a second to look around the room and know something was up. She let the box fall to the floor with a loud thud before she looked at first Kat, then me.
“Did I interrupt something?” she asked coolly. There were many things I was, but a whiner wasn’t one, so I just kept my mouth shut and shrugged nonchalantly.
“Actually, Coach,” Kat started in a saccharine tone, “I was just telling Pru here about the annual Booster Club Gala. I think it would be a great way to get her feet wet by having her be our entertainment chair for the event. That way, she can learn the ins and outs of our organization.”
I couldn’t believe it. The stupid bitch didn’t even know me and decided to put me on the spot, not to mention that she was intentionally referring to me as Prudence, just to make her point. However, Coach looked as though she was onto the game Kat was playing because her eyes lit up before she spoke.