Fighting (18 page)

Guess
the lessons we learn in life aren't exactly free.

We
watched a movie and then I watched Spencer and August play a racing video
game.  It was a double-edged sword because I would become engrossed in watching
the film or the game and be blissfully unaware of Ethan's absence, and then I
would glance over to search for his face and be thrown back into reality all
over again. 

On
the third evening of Ethan's trip, I found myself staring out of my bedroom
window that overlooked the gravel driveway.  I stood there for a few minutes,
letting my eyes lose focus through the sheets of pouring rain, thinking of
nothing other than him.  I leaned forward two inches to rest my forehead
against the glass in despair and as soon as my forehead gently thumped against
the glass, I realized what exactly it was that I was doing: I was watching the
driveway, longing for his car to drive in and I could talk to him, and not just
so I could apologize.

I
stood up straight because
shit
, I didn't want him to come home just so
that I could apologize, but because I
missed
him.  I missed spending my
days and nights with him to the point that I
felt
his absence like a
tangible thing.  It was glaring me in the face so severely because it was a
totally new sensation to me.  I had always had people in my life that I liked
well enough, but never enough to actually miss their presence while they were
gone. 

I
loved that I had a friend who I missed that much because that meant that I
really cared about him, but I also hated it because I didn't want my happiness
to depend on his.  I was independent and I didn't need anyone else and I liked
it that way.  Or, at least, I used to like it that way.

I
stared at my reflection in the glass and looked for any overt changes in my
appearance, but I couldn't find any other than my slightly more toned muscles. 
Guess that meant I was growing emotionally.  Ick.  I thought I was supposed to
grow stronger, not explore this gooey, sensitive side of myself.  If I'd known
beforehand just how much this place would change me, I probably wouldn't have
come.  But despite my growing sugary sweetness, I was glad I did.

Completely
frustrated with my many emotional epiphanies, I wanted to sit outside and
listen to the slackening rain fall before supper so I trekked up to the studio
balcony.  I sat there for maybe an hour or so, surfing the web on my tablet,
before I heard a blood curdling scream from the ground below.  I flew to my
feet and stilled to listen further.  I could hear Ollie's voice muttering and
Spencer's hectic yelling and then Ollie crying out in pain again.

I
felt panic rush through my body and I said every curse word I knew in
existence.  I flew down the stairs and ran outside toward the voices.  I
spotted Ollie lying on the ground under a tree, clutching his arm to his chest. 
Spencer was hovering over him, looking stricken. 

"What
happened?" I yelled.

"We
were climbing the trees and Ollie fell out!" Spencer said.

I
threw myself to the ground where he was and hovered over him, frantic hands
searching for something helpful to do.  His arm was already swelling and I
could tell something was wrong with it.  I screamed Brooks' name and then ran
to find him.  I hauled him outside and over to Ollie.  He examined him and told
me to run and get Gwen.  I shot back inside and brought her back outside with
me. 

"Get
the car," he told her.  "We need to have it x-rayed at the
hospital."

"Is
it broken?" I asked, assuming my previous position of hovering helplessly.

"Looks
like it."

I
knelt by Ollie and held his good hand.  He was the most relaxed off all of us
and he was the one injured.  When was this kid
not
chill?

"It'll
be okay," he calmly told me. 

He
told
me.
  Shit, an injured twelve year old shouldn't have to tell me
that.

I
made a supreme effort to visibly calm myself down and smile a little, even
though it felt wrong.  "I know it will, kid."

Gwen
pulled the SUV around to us and Brooks and Spencer hefted him into it.  Brooks
shut the door and turned to me.  "Look after the others while I'm
gone."

I
nodded and they took off for the hospital.  We went back inside and to our
rooms.  I collapsed on the bed and felt my eyes pool with tears.  Damn, that
had been close.  And so of course, with endless time, no one to talk to and nothing
to do, my mind ran away with itself.  I tortured myself turning over thought
after thought about what could have happened and what I'd have done. 

Sometime
later, I heard Brooks drive down the gravel and I got up to look out of my
window.  He and Gwen got out and then opened the back door.  Brooks helped
Ollie out and navigated him back into the house.  I met them at the top of the
stairs and saw Ollie had a cast on his arm and he looked happy.  Like, loopy
happy. 

"Drugs?"
I asked.

"You're
pretty," he breathed at me.

I
almost chuckled at that.

I
followed Brooks and watched him deposit Ollie into his bed.  We walked back out
and turned to each other.

"Why
didn't you let me drive you to the hospital?" I asked.

"Because
you care about him too much to have driven and made rational decisions.  I'm
sure you would have pulled through, but we had other options so we used
them," he said.

I
stared at him in a daze for a second before giving a vague, "Sure,"
and walking away.

I
walked back to my room on autopilot and didn't even hesitate to pack my shit. 
I pulled my suitcase and bags from under my bed and crammed them full of my
clothes and electronics.  I left my bathroom stuff, knowing all of it was
easily replaceable.  I looked around the room and realized that my sound system
was still upstairs, along with my yoga mat.

You care too much.

I
lumbered up the stairs in a daze and to the studio, taking all of it in one
last time, and then walked over to the corner that stored my stuff.  I bent
down to unplug my music and grab my mat and found myself jerked upright and off
of autopilot. 

"Why
the hell are your bags packed and on your bed?" Ethan demanded, pissed as
hell.

I
flung my arm out of his grip and backed up a step.  "I'm leaving," I
said. 

I
turned around to gather my things, barely registering that he must have only
just returned from his trip.  I have no idea why I assumed he would just let it
drop and let me be on my way.

He
twirled me around to face him again.  "Where are you going?"

"Home,"
I said listlessly.

"You
are home," he said, clearly not understanding.

Not
understanding that I didn't really have a home, just a place to stay.  And I
couldn't stay there because I
cared too much.
 

"No."

"Yes,"
he said emphatically.  "This is where you live, work, play.  This is it. 
You belong here."

Fine,
I'd make him understand.

"I
don't.  I feel like I'm always catching up.  I don't quite fit here.  That's
just another reason why I'm leaving."

"Do
you think I belong here?" he asked, I thought, bizarrely.

"Of
course.  You were made to be here."

"So
are you.  I felt exactly like this my first month here, but then it dawned on
me that it was just fear.  It's just fear.  You fit in perfectly.  You do
belong here."

I
backed away another step.  "I have to leave."

"Why?"
he cried out incredulously.  "Because of me?  Because of our fight?"

"No." 
Contrary to our argument, I was strangely calm and I think it was scaring him.

"Then
tell me why," he pleaded.  "Tell me why you're leaving in the middle
of the night without telling any of us goodbye.  Why you would let Ollie and
Spencer and August wake up and wonder where you went for days and worry about
you?  Why you would sneak out before I even got home?"

I
shook my head, overwhelmed by his questions.  I thought about Ollie again,
about how close a call it was, how it could have been so much worse.  How any
of us could be hurt or worse on a job.  Just how much risk I was taking,
investing my life with these people I came to care so deeply about.  Tears
pooled in my eyes for the second time that day.  Ethan noticed and didn't give
me time to recover.

"Alex,
explain it to me," he said quietly.

"I
can't do this," I whispered.

"You're
doing it," he said angrily.  "Explain it," he clipped.

I
stared at his blurred face and kept my silence.  He didn't touch me but he did
crowd me.  "Why are you running?  It's because of Ollie, isn't it?  What
almost happened to him?  You can't just leave us because you're scared."

That
broke my shield of calm and having to choose between showing fear or fury, I
chose fury.

"Fuck
you, Ethan!  You don't even know me."

"Yes,
I do, and I know that you can't hide from this forever.  And if you try to, you
will always be alone.  Is that what you want?" he asked. 

He
put his hand on my shoulder and I immediately brushed it off, which only
agitated both of us further.

"It
would be easier that way!" I said.

"Why?"
he spat.

"Because
I'm just not cut out for this!" I cried out, desperate for him to see my
point of view and then
go away
.

I
shoved past him and stalked toward the wall of mirrors. 

"For
what?" he called after me.

"For
this!  For being a part of a family!  For caring so much about someone that
when they get hurt, my heart stops beating and I can't breathe.  For missing
someone when they're gone for only three fucking days!  For any of it!"

I
was pacing frantically and he caught my arms again but immediately let me go
once I stopped and he caught my eyes. 

"You
can
do this."

"No,
I can't.  It's too much.  Ethan, I'm a loner!  I live alone!  I'm better off
alone.  I'm not wired to love anyone.  To really love them and have them rely
on me."

He
looked at me like I was batshit crazy.  "Babe, you've been living here for
weeks and you've been doing just fine."

I
remained unconvinced and was about to start pacing again when he put his hands
on my arms and got close.

"It's
scary," he said, practically reading my thoughts.  "Loving someone
and caring about what happens to them.  Even if Ollie had a life threatening
injury and didn't make it, you would have had the rest of us to lean on.  We
would have needed each other, and we would have relied on
each other
. 
It's a two way street.  You need us.  And you
belong here
," he
reiterated heavily.

I
paused, thinking over his words.  He sensed that I relaxed a little and didn't
hesitate to pounce on it. 

"I
know you haven't had a real home in ten years," he said quietly.  My eyes
snapped to his warily.  "I know you don't want to go through what you did
then with your parents, and that's why you haven't really had anyone since
then.  But you have us now, and it's too late, we're not letting you go." 
He took a small step closer and shook his head.  "I'm not letting you go,
Alex."

Damn
him and his quiet voice.  He knew how to manipulate me with it.  But he was
right.  About everything.  And looking at his face, I knew I couldn't have let
him go without a second thought.

"You're
such a jerk," I whispered, caving in. 

My
face crumpled and a few tears escaped.  He saw it and pulled me into a hug.  I
collapsed against his chest and cried.  I fucking
cried
.  I could barely
believe it while it was happening.  I didn't cry.  Ever.

He
wrapped an arm around my back and held me as he ran his fingers through my hair
soothingly with the other hand.  He pressed his jaw against my cheek and kept
his silence while I shoved my face against his neck and soaked it with my
tears.  My hands were pressed into his shoulder blades, clutching his shirt
there. 

A
few minutes later, my eyes had dried and my breathing had evened out but Ethan
hadn't let me go yet.  I felt shielded with him wrapped around me, but I didn't
want him to think I was a total baby, so I slid my hands down his back and
around to push lightly against his chest.  He loosened his grip on me and let
me step back from him.  I wiped my eyes and gave him a wobbly smile.

I
meant to say something reassuring, but "You're really warm," came out
of my mouth instead.  I wanted to slap myself in the face.

"It's
'cause I'm part werewolf," he said solemnly.

I
burst into laughter and shoved at his shoulder.  "I know it was a shitty
movie, okay?  You don't have to keep bringing it up!"

"They
didn't even use CGI," he said on a relieved laugh.  "I'm all for a
little elbow grease to make something work, but come on.  Their mouths didn't
even move when they spoke!  Which is another thing altogether; werewolves
talking in wolf form?  It's unnatural," he insisted.