Discovering April (6 page)

I MAKE IT HOME, somehow. I drive through the entire mess of tears that stream down my face.

I’m in my bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how I could have gotten here. How did I let this happen? How could I have been so stupid? Rolling over, I pull the covers up over me and let the tears continue to rack my body. I cry until I run out of tears and welcome unconsciousness. By the time the blackness finally comes, my mind it’s tortured once again.

I’m waiting in my plastic seat for my name to be called. Glancing around at the rest of my classmates in their cap and gowns, I know deep down this may be the very last time I see them. Not like it matters. I wasn’t close with anyone but Hunter. As soon as I think his name, our eyes meet. He winks at me from a few rows back. The blush that creeps into my cheeks makes my entire body heat up. We had sex last night for the first time. It wasn’t like the movies, but it was ours, and we did it. Even if we go our separate ways, we will always have last night
.

I breathe in the darkness. Now all I wish is to take that night back, to take the last few years back, and start over. Stay alone, do things for myself. End the pain. End the hurt. The worst part is watching someone you love love someone else. How could he love her? Does this mean he’s never loved me?

He has his arm around her waist. His eyes look at her and her smile brightens her whole face. She flips her hair over her shoulder. I drop my books. Our eyes meet.

My eyes open to the blackness of my room. The shades are drawn and the only sound I hear is Jinx’s soft purring somewhere on my bed. I pause, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds before the tears come. How could he do this to me? I feel like someone stabbed me in the heart. No, not the heart—the gut, because I have this twisting feeling inside me, a feeling that tells me I’ll never be able to keep anything down again. I stare out into the darkness before sleep finally comes.

I ROLL OVER SOME time later. It must still be nighttime because I can hear crickets outside my window. Stupid annoying crickets, what a worthless insect—I mean, what do they really do besides annoy the crap out of people trying to sleep? Ugh! Rolling onto my stomach, I throw my pillow over my head and try not to dream.

NO SUCH LUCK. It seems like every dream I have is a happy memory I had with Hunter. Why? Why am I torturing myself? Why? That seems to be one word that haunts my restless sleep: why. It’s like I’m expecting some ultimate answer, some ultimate conclusion that will suddenly allow everything to fall into place. Maybe there is no answer. Maybe sometimes, someone is just a complete asshole? I wonder if Prince Charming ever screwed over Cinderella? Is there such a thing as happily ever after?

I STARE UP AT THE same spot on the ceiling, just like I have for the past two weeks. I haven’t been able to find the energy to leave the house. Nothing seems to matter, and school is a waste of time. I should have moved away and gone to school in Florida with my parents, but I didn’t want to leave Hunter. I guess the joke is on me.

I roll out of bed, tripping over Jinx in my stupor. My mind is like my heart—a mess. Tears are streaming down my face as I descend the stairs, still in my clothes from two weeks ago. Unconsciously, my feet take me into the kitchen. I’m not hungry but I’m pretty sure Jinx is. His bowl is licked clean and I wonder how long he would have let me sleep until he bothered me.

“I’m sorry, Jinx,” I whisper, throwing some more dry food into his bowl and collapsing into a kitchen chair. “Seems like I’m letting everyone down around here.”

That’s when I see it. My eyes lock on a serrated meat knife in the draining board. Enraptured by it, I lift myself out of the chair and slowly make my way over to the sink, my eyes never leaving the knife. Reaching out, I wrap my hand around the black handle and pull it out. It’s sharp, I think as I run my finger along the serrated edge. One cut is all I’d need. Just one. That would get Hunter’s attention. That would…

“Oh, my God!” I say out loud to myself as I drop the knife.

Was I just thinking what I think I was thinking? I need to get out of here! I dash out of the kitchen. I burst through the front door, swinging it open wide, and barely make it to my porch steps before I finally break down. I collapse with my face in my hands and begin to sob. The pain in my heart is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I feel something coming back up; it’s a wonder since I haven’t eaten in two weeks. Leaning over into my mother’s rosebush, I yak up stomach goo. Once I’m finished, I sit back with my head against the post as I try and collect my thoughts. Actually, no—no more thoughts! I don’t need to think right now. I feel numb. Anything that comes to my mind reminds me of him. I need to just not think right now. My eyes stare at the sun until light is all I can see, blinding me from the real world.

I don’t know how long I sit there until I see a shadow cross in front of my face.

“Are you okay?” I vaguely hear asked of me somewhere outside my head. I blink a few times before my mind clicks back to reality and my neighbor’s face begins to form around the sun’s setting rays. “April?”

“Yea…” I murmur, my head rolling away from his judging eyes.

“Are you okay?” he repeats his question as he leans over, inspecting me.

I sit up from the porch and rest my elbows on my knees. I hate showing weakness, but I have a feeling it’s written all over my face, anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

Surprisingly, he comes to sit beside me on the stone steps and we sit in silence next to each other for a few minutes. I almost don’t notice because my numb mind is focusing on a crack in the sidewalk. I feel his eyes darting around like he wants to say more.

“You know what always makes me feel better?” I hear him ask through my cloudy mind before he answers his own question. “A ride. What do you say?”

I look up from the crack in the cement to the brand new – practically sparkling, he wipes it so often – motorcycle parked in the middle of his driveway. I finally wake up.

“Yes,” I say, fully returned from my trance.

“Really?” He sounds surprised.

“Yes, let’s go!”

I jump up and walk over to the shiny contraption. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. I refused to hop on the back of my dad’s hog when I was younger. My first time on a motorcycle isn’t going to be with my father, I used to tell myself. Now my first time will be with my neighbor in a selfish attempt to risk my life, trying to feel some form of emotion again. Fear, excitement, adrenaline: I’m not picky. Any emotion will feel better than nothing. I grab an extra helmet from the corner of his porch and strap it on as he continues to stare at me from where I left him on the steps.

“I’ll go without you!” I say as I throw my leg over the side of his bike and grab the handlebars. I’m pretending to kick up the kickstand by the time he’s at my side.

“If you think I’m going to let this baby out of my sight, you’re delusional.” The way he looks at me when he says it leaves me wondering if he was talking about the bike.

I slide back and he hops on in front of me. Starting up the bike, it jerks forward and I grab his sides abruptly. He gives me a side-glance that makes me feel like it was intentional. But before I can mention it, we are off down the street. The exhaust flares behind us as we round the corner, and I feel the wind in my hair and the sun on my face. Noticing I still have my vice-like grip on him, I loosen it up until I’m just slightly holding his waist. I realize this is the closest we’ve been in seven years or so. He smells good; freshly showered, if I had to guess. The scent of his soap is still on his skin and his white tee shirt is still kind of wrinkled, like he just pulled it out of the dryer. My eyes gravitate to his strong back when he revs the bike out onto the highway. I don’t know what possesses me to do it—some can claim it was a survival instinct, but I think I was just curious as to how it would feel—but I slide close against his back as I wrap my arms around him like a hug. I lean my chin against his back as I peer over his shoulder at the highway before me. I can almost feel him smiling and I understand why this makes him feel better. It’s freeing, dangerous, fast, and fun all at the same time. I see a line of brake lights extending far ahead, but he doesn’t seem to slow down even a fraction.

“Traffic!” I croak over the exhaust.

“What traffic?” he responds sarcastically before gunning it.

I grip him tighter and close my eyes, awaiting the impending impact. I feel the bike swerve and speed up again before I finally open one eye and see us passing everyone on the shoulder. One by one, we zip past the practically parked cars. The glares we receive could cut glass, but I can’t say I feel bad. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to weave through traffic on a bike.

When we finally pass the accident, he guns it again. From then on, all I remember is trees and houses, and farms and orchards the further north he takes me. My legs and butt are all but numb, but I don’t dare speak up. I asked for this. Plus, I find I don’t really want this to end. As if reading my mind, he pulls over onto a dirt road and continues about a half mile before parking in a remote little country orchard. Looks like we are one of a few people here, because I think it’s a Friday afternoon. I would know if I had gotten out of bed sometime in the past few weeks. He swings off and leans the bike against the kickstand before turning to me to help me off. I find I can’t meet his eyes as I let him help me off the bike. So instead, I change the subject.

“Where are we?” I ask, glancing at the little red shop with white trim and pumpkins scattered about the ground. There is a line of trees spreading out up a hill behind it.

“I love this place,” he says with a smile. “They have the best fresh donuts here. I hear sweets help these kind of things, too…”

I’m pretty sure he’s joking with me. “What kind of
things
is that?” I inquire, a little offended.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs before adding, “Woman troubles, heartbreak, Twilight ending? Whatever bugs your mind.”

With that, my wall finally falls, slamming to the dirt and gravel floor before me and I do something I never thought I would do again. I finally smile. “Twilight huh?”

“Whatever the chicks are watching nowadays.” He shrugs again.

Now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a girl. So what would he know what the girls are into?

Looking at him heading to the front, I shake my head and run up to meet him as I beat him to the door. Turning back, I add, “Twilight was so five years ago, F.Y.I” before disappearing inside.

He’s right; the delicious scent of fresh donuts hits me as soon as I’m inside. It’s not just a little donut shop. They have a ton of cute little knickknacks, too. I head over to the table holding the snow globes, my favorite. I don’t know why; I think they just remind me of a simpler time. He heads over to the sarcastic-quotes-on-random-media section across the room from me. I can’t help but feel the awkwardness. This is the longest we’ve ever been in the same room together in so long. I almost don’t know how to act with him. It’s strange –we’ve spent most of our lives a few steps from each other, yet we haven’t spoken in years. I pick up a snow globe with a twirling Tinkerbell inside of it and shake it. I hold it up to the light and watch as the green and yellow sparkles float back to the bottom. I catch Jared’s gaze through the glass from across the room. I slowly lower it, maintaining eye contact and he suddenly looks down, still digging through his bin. I put the snow globe back down on the counter and walk right up to him. I notice him tense up as his hands fumble with the plaques.