Nikki's Heart (2 page)

I slam the journal closed, and hug it to my chest. My tears are hot on my cheeks.

“Cody,” I cry. “I need you so much.”

Is it possible to die from a broken heart? It must be, because I can feel myself fading away to nothing.

I need help; I know I do. But there’s no one to help me. There’s no one to save me from this dark hole I’m falling into. There’s no one who can pull me out, now that Cody is gone. There is no one to wipe the tears from my cheeks. Now that Cody is gone, there is no one in my world at all.

I know I could call Mandi; she would do anything I asked her to. I know she worries about me now. I know she even loves me. Mandi has her own life to worry about, her own family. I know she thinks of me as her daughter, at least kind of, but she isn’t even old enough to be my mother. She is only fifteen years older than me, and my dad is eleven years older than her.

I am still sitting in my window seat, hugging the journal, when the front door slams. I snap back to reality. I jump out of the window seat and crawl under my bed without even thinking about it. I stuff the journal underneath me and hold my breath as the door opens.

“Nikki? Are you in here?” my mother calls from the doorway.

I don’t say anything, just hold my breath and watch her white Nikes in the doorway. I pray she will just go away thinking I’m not home yet. I have no reason to be hiding under the bed from my mother. I am not afraid of her anymore, although I’m sure she can probably still hit pretty hard. I know she has gone through a lot of treatment, and she hasn’t touched any alcohol for a while. I do not want to be around her right now, especially with my face streaked with tears. My mother has no use for tears and no patience with mine. She doesn’t understand how hard this has been for me. She doesn’t know how much Cody meant to me.

Even though she got help, my mom and I still don’t get along. I have no respect for her, and we will never be friends. She doesn’t know how to be a mother or how to express love. Maybe she just doesn’t feel love. Some things about her will never change either, like the superior way she carries herself. And the way she thinks she’s so much better than everyone else. She still has bad taste in men, and she wouldn’t hesitate to walk on her friends to get something for herself.

“Never trust anyone, Nikki,” I must have heard a million times. “Even if they call themselves friends.”

I have no doubt she knows this from experience. The only real friend she has ever had is Lisa, and I bet they don’t trust each other. Even now.

I stay under the bed until I am sure she isn’t going to come back. I don’t need her to tell me to grow up and get on with my life. I don’t have a life anymore; she should know that. A real mother would know that.

I pick up the journal, lock my bedroom door, and lie on my bed.

November 10

Tonight I went to church with Cody. At first I really didn’t want to go. It just sounded really boring. I wanted to be with Cody, though, and he goes every Wednesday night. It was actually pretty cool—just a bunch of normal kids hanging out. It didn’t fit my image of church at all. We all sat around on sofas and chairs, in a room that had a pool table and pop machines. The guy in charge was maybe thirty, and everyone called him Pastor Jake. It was real informal, and I actually had a great time. Cody introduced me to everyone, and they were all so nice to me.

I hope he asks me to go again sometime.

November 11

Mom and I got in a horrible fight last night. She was in the shower when Cody dropped me off, so I just went to my room like always. I guess she never realized I was home, until she barged into my room around one.

“Where in the hell have you been?” she demanded.

I was startled out of sleep when the door slammed into the wall. I just looked at her for a minute, totally confused. “I asked you a question.” She came over to my bed, grabbed my arm, and yanked me to my feet. “How long have you been hiding in here?” My confusion was replaced with anger.

“Since about ten o’clock.”

She reached out and slapped my cheek; I didn’t even see it coming. The sting made my eyes fill with tears, and I was burning with rage. Rage and hate.

“Don’t you lie to me,” she snarled. “I’ve been here all night.”

“You were in the shower when I came in,” I said through clenched teeth. Man, I wanted to hit her.

She looked at me blankly for a minute. I could smell the alcohol coming off of her. I just stood there, my cheek stinging, my eyes burning, glaring at her.

“Next time let someone know you’re home,” she said, releasing my arm. “Where were you anyway?”

“I was at church with Cody,” I answered. “And how could I have known you were in the shower alone?”

Her eyes flashed with anger, but I didn’t care. I knew if she hit me again, I would hit her back. I wouldn’t be able to stand there and take it again.

“Church, huh? Well now I’ve heard everything.”

Finally she turned and walked out of the room. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, relieved she hadn’t hit me again. Her handprint was welted on my face, and there was blood where her ring had cut me.

As I looked in my vanity mirror, wiping the blood, I realized I hate my mother. Not just the occasional dislike that is normal between parents and teenagers, but actual hate. She will always be selfish and uncaring, and I will never be able to love her. But as I stood there, wiping blood from my face, I realized I no longer care. I don’t need a mother anymore, and I no longer want one either.

November 15

I have not seen my mother in four days. I know she’s been here; there are traces of her everywhere. She’s not here when I get home, no matter how late, and she’s not here when I get up in the mornings, either. I really don’t want to see her, but I can’t help wondering what she’s hiding from. Is she feeling guilty for hitting me when I hadn’t done anything wrong? I can’t believe that; she just isn’t that soft.

I also wonder how long this will last. Surely she can’t avoid me forever. I am only two years away from eighteen, though; two years isn’t that long. And it certainly would be quiet, wouldn’t it?

I went to church with Cody yesterday. It was every bit as nice as the first time. Everyone is so cool to each other, like we have no differences. And Pastor Jake is not the red-faced, screaming, preacher stereotype at all. He is quiet and fun, yet he still manages to get his point across. It is obvious how much the kids like and respect him.

After ‘youth group,’ we went to morning worship service. There I was sure I would find the red-faced, screaming preacher. I didn’t, though. Pastor Jim was the exact opposite. He was absolutely wonderful, and he was funny with his descriptions and jokes. He even went out of his way to come up to me.

He grabbed my hand with both of his, and turned to Cody. “Who is this lovely young lady?”

I introduced myself, totally caught up in his charm. I have never met such an instantly likable person before. He is just a really great guy.

After church I went to lunch with Cody and his mom. Trish is such a warm person. Every time we are together, she dotes on me like I am her daughter. She always calls me Sweetie, and she likes to give me hugs. She and Cody are very close. The love she feels for him shines through every time she looks at him.

November 19

Tonight I was standing in my room deciding what to wear when my mom started banging on the door. It scared me half to death.

“Hurry up, Nikki, she’s here,” she yelled through the door. “And you know how she hates to wait.”

She would be Mandi, who was picking me up for the weekend. Mandi doesn’t mind waiting. She usually sits in her van reading a book. It is my mom who can’t stand Mandi sitting out there for any length of time.

I continued staring in my closet, ignoring her. My bag was packed and waiting on my bed. I had a date with Cody, and I wanted to look perfect. I finally decided on my denim Tommy Hilfiger skirt and my pink button up shirt. I was stepping into my shoes when Mom started banging on the door again.

“Nikki, come on.” Why was she yelling? I was sure Mandi could hear her out there, if not the whole neighborhood. “Nikki?”

I flung open the door and yelled, “What?”

Her hand came out of nowhere and slapped my cheek. “Don’t you yell at me!”

Tears stung my eyes, but there was no way I would let her see me cry. I grabbed my bag and shoved past her.

“Nikki, wait,” she called.

I kept going, right out the front door. I wasn’t going to stop and listen to her say she was sorry. She’s never sorry for slapping me.

I threw my bag in the back of Mandi’s van and climbed in the front seat.

“Hi,” Mandi said cheerfully. She put the van in reverse and started backing out of the driveway.

I didn’t say anything because I was afraid if I opened my mouth I would start crying. She looked at me curiously, and then she hit the brakes, hard.

“My God, Nikki, what happened to your face?”

“Ran into a wall,” I answered dryly.

“Amazing.” Her tone was every bit as sarcastic as mine. “Your walls are shaped just like hands.” She reached out, and gently ran her finger over the mark. Finally she continued backing out of the driveway, but not before throwing my mother a dirty look.

My mother stood in the doorway, glaring towards Mandi’s van. I know she must have seen the way Mandi touched my cheek, and there was no way she missed the way Mandi looked at her. My mother was furious.

We drove to Dad’s house in silence. Mandi’s pretty cool about not sticking her nose in everything. I know she was mad about it, but she wouldn’t say anything unless I wanted to talk about it. My cheek was still stinging and so was my pride. I’m glad I didn’t have to say anything.

My dad’s truck was in the driveway, and I almost had a panic attack. “Mandi, please don’t tell my dad about this.” He would totally fly off the handle, and things would get ugly when he confronted my mother.

She turned to me and sighed. For a minute, she looked very sad. “I won’t have to tell him, Nikki, it’s written all over your face. So unless you tell him I hit you, he’s going to pretty much figure it out.” I started crying. My dad would be on the phone with my mom within minutes after I walked through the door. And when I got home, it would be horrible; my mom would swear I ran to him crying abuse.

“Listen,” Mandi said. “Why don’t we go have an ice cream or something?”

I tried to smile. “Thank you.”

We went to the Dairy Queen and sat eating our frozen hot chocolates. Mandi stuck with small talk, asking me about school and Cody. It was nice to sit there for a while, not really worrying about anything. And when we headed back to my dad’s house, I was no longer crying and my cheek had stopped stinging. I was able to go into my dad’s house and greet him and the twins with a smile.

Mandi was waiting up when I got back from my date with Cody. She sat up on the couch and set her book down. I sat on the couch beside her and told her all about my date. She smiled and laughed and got excited in all of the right places. When I finally headed for bed, I reached out and gave her a big hug.

“Thank you, Mandi, for being so wonderful,” I said.

“Thank you for allowing me to be,” she answered with a tearful smile.

November 21

Today I did nothing but sit around at my dad’s house. I can’t believe how normal this half of my family is. Everyone just kind of hung out together, not really doing anything. Dad stretched out on the couch with his head in Mandi’s lap, to watch football. When he fell asleep, Mandi just sat there, quietly reading a book.

The twins and I played on the living room floor with their building blocks. It’s funny—they never seem to fight and argue. I know this girl who has a little sister, and they absolutely hate each other. They can get in an argument just looking at each other. But Jaren and Jena aren’t like that. They play together, taking turns deciding on what they will play. They are pretty special.

Later...

Whenever I am happy, my mom shows up to ruin it. It’s almost like she has some happy radar or something, and it beeps like crazy whenever I laugh.

When I got home tonight, I went straight to my room. I knew Mom hadn’t forgotten about Friday, and I was hoping to be asleep before she realized I was home. Before I could get my homework finished, though, she stuck her head in the door.

“You made it home, I see,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m home, Mom.”

“Did you have a nice weekend?” It wasn’t a conversational question, but more like a sneer.

“Yeah, actually I did.”

“What the hell was Mandi’s problem?” She couldn’t even say her name without that sarcasm. I hate that.

“I didn’t know she had one,” I answered truthfully.

“Oh, she had one all right. She was sure throwing some evil looks my way.” I was seriously shocked. I can’t believe she didn’t realize why Mandi had glared at her. I just sat there looking at her, my jaw on the floor.