Authors: Angela Morrison
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex
Sing Me to Sleep (29 page)
No
I love you
.
I love you
.
Suddenly the mild October night is bitter cold.
I wrap my jacket close around me and walk slowly up the path to the porch, climb the stairs, and push through the front door.
Mom is waiting for me in the living room. “We need to talk, Beth.”
“Not now.” I’m a wreck, Mom. Please. I wander up the stairs to my room and fall face down on my bed.
She follows me, sits on the bed’s edge, and strokes my hair. “I’m worried about you.”
I’m so not having this conversation.
“Derek reminds me so much of your father.”
I whip my face to the side and glare at her. “How dare you say that.”
“It’s true.”
She’s creeping me out. “Derek is not like him.” I shudder against it. “Derek is perfect.”
“I thought your father was perfect.”
“But you were wrong—I’m not. Go. Away.” I pull a pillow over my head.
“No.” She lifts the pillow off and hangs on like she needs it for support. “Listen, I can see that your relationship is getting more serious. That you might be thinking about—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Neither do I.”
“It’s not like you’re an expert or anything.”
“I guess I deserve that. We should have had this talk a long time ago.”
“We should have talked about a lot of things.” But we didn’t—I never wanted to upset her. She’s always seemed so fragile to me.
“Linda and I were best friends through junior high and high school. Your father was a couple years older than us. I always had a crush on him. He was so cool—long hair, electric guitar—as irresistible as Derek is in his own way. Lots of girls. He had a reputation for getting what he wanted when he wanted it.”
“And you liked that?”
“I knew he was pretty wild, but that made him all the more appealing. I—as you can imagine—was anything but wild. He didn’t know I existed. I hung out at Linda’s as much as I could just to get a glimpse of him.”
I don’t know what she’s getting at. This is nothing like Derek and me.
“Summer after Linda and I graduated, he was home from college. Bored I guess. Linda and I were in the backyard tanning one day. I went in for a drink of water, and he saw me. I had on a new bikini. ‘Look who’s all grown up.’ I don’t think he even remembered my name. ‘You still have it bad for me? ’”
“He knew about your crush?”
“Linda must have told him. I flushed red, he put out his hand, the next thing I knew we were making out in his bedroom. He had my bikini off before I even knew what was happening.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“All I remember about that first time was how much it hurt, how much I bled—”
I so didn’t want to hear that. “It’s like he raped you?” How can she think he’s anything like my Derek?
“No. Took advantage? Yes. But I didn’t try to stop him.”
“You got pregnant from just that one time?” Was her whole marriage a myth?
She looks down at the pillow. “No.”
“You went back?”
“All summer. There’s an emotional side that goes along with the physical side. He said he loved me, and I—”
“Couldn’t get enough of him?”
“I thought you’d understand now. That’s how you feel about Derek, isn’t it?”
I nod. I’m starting to see what she’s getting at. Derek’s not like my father. I’m like her. Now I need the rest of the story. “What happened? After the summer?”
“He went back to college, and I found out I was pregnant. When I called and told him, he gave me the address of an abortion clinic. I couldn’t do that. Not to my baby. Our baby. I still loved him.”
“What did you do?”
“I broke down and told my parents. They told his, and they forced him to marry me.”
“And then I was born, and he hated me.” Enter
damn ugly daughter.
damn ugly daughter.
“He didn’t love you. He didn’t love me. He was totally consumed with himself.”
“Derek’s not like that.”
“Are you sure? I’m not sure I like what’s going on with you and him.”
She sees way more than I give her credit for. I don’t want to go down that path with her. I keep her on the defensive. “How old was I when my father ran out on us?”
She fluffs the pillow, turns and smoothes it gently into place on my bed. “He didn’t run out on us.” She brushes my hair off my forehead and swallows hard. “We left him.”
“What?” I can’t have heard her right. “I always thought—”
“You were such a beautiful baby. So sweet. So gentle. A little angel in my arms. I couldn’t raise you in that atmosphere. I tried—overlooked a lot. I loved him. I finally realized we only had one option. I moved back home, went to college after all, and—”
“Here we are.” The upside-down part of me is in motion. This sudden change makes me kind of dizzy.
She nods her head.
I study her face, finally see who she is. “I love you, Mom.” I hug her. “Thanks for making me listen.” Tears seep out of my eyes. I always thought she was weak, but she’s strong—stronger than I dreamed of.
I need to rewrite an old song I made up about them. Make it true.
Now get away.
Magic-carpet ride from this hell.
Fly through the night,
Build a place where together we’ ll grow.
Just get away.
Your beautiful daughter keep her far,
Far from his sight.
He’s not the man we wanted
To love.
Get away.
chapter 26
STUDY NOTES
The next couple months are crazy. We start recording the CD. It takes forever. Every time Derek invites me to a performance, I’ve got another recording session. We only manage to get together again once. We keep connected online, but then he’ll disappear, sometimes for a few days, sometimes more than a week.
I don’t ask anymore. Everything is so fragile right now. I don’t want to make him angry. I can’t risk losing him. I’ve decided I don’t want to know. I’ll close my eyes and savor what he gives me. It’s not enough. Maybe someday we can figure out how to get more of each other. As the weeks pass, I grow grateful for every whisper over the phone, every line he writes, every stolen second we get.
I don’t know why it has to be stolen and what I’m stealing him from. The time we got together it was here. He won’t let me go to his house. I still haven’t met his parents.
One night online he surprises me.
Derek: how’d you like to spend a whole weekend with me in Toronto?
Beth: suddenly it’s right?
Derek: I knew you’d take it like that
Beth: this isn’t about sex?
Derek: shut up
Beth: only if you tell me how you’ll know when it’s finally right
Derek: easy . . . my mum says it’s wrong unless you’re married
Beth: you’re a big boy . . . you don’t have to do what Mommy says
Derek: you don’t know my mum
“And why is that?” I ask the screen. I don’t type it, though. Complaining only makes him disappear.
Beth: so you’re asking me to elope to Toronto with you? let me check my calendar
Derek: maybe next time . . . this time I’m asking you to come sing with me again
I get all hot. Singing with him is such a rush—but how can I? I stare at the screen, imagining myself onstage with him again, letting our passion fill our song. I’ve got so much bottled up in me. It needs to get out somehow. But I wrecked that. Derek didn’t give me the full scoop, but I could tell the AYS directors were angry.
Beth: I can’t show my face around Amabile again
Derek: it’s just the guys . . . they all still think you’re the goddess
Beth: me and all those guys?
Derek: you and ME and all those guys . . . Saturday we’ve got a movie premier downtown TO, and Sunday we’re doing a live CBC Radio broadcast
He is so nuts to think I can do that.
Beth: and you want me to muck it up?
Derek: I arranged “Beth’s Song” as a duet with tenor/bass backup . . . I want you to write the words and then come sing it with me
Beth: I can’t write lyrics good enough for that song
Derek: don’t be stupid
Beth: you write it
Derek: I already did my part . . . it’s your turn
I can’t. I can’t. No way. I can’t. I’m not hot anymore. Suddenly I’m really cold. Freezing cold. I start typing.
Beth: I’ve got midterms and a big project due . . . our CD-release concert is coming up
Derek: this is important
Beth: I can’t do it . . . all I’ve ever written is bits and pieces . . . fragments . . . and most of it’s hideous and sappy
Derek: apply yourself . . . you’re wasting your talent
Just because he can write, doesn’t mean I can. He talks about music flowing out of him. I have to squeeze out every word. And it’s still bad.
Beth: what talent? I’d ruin your song
Derek: no you won’t . . . you’ve got plenty of time . . . if it stinks, I’ll tell you and you can try again
Beth: that sounds like great fun
Derek: that’s how it works . . . I can’t remember the date, but it’s after your Thanksgiving . . . the second weekend of December I think
Am I relieved? Disappointed? A mixture of emotions surge in choppy confusion.
Beth: that’s when our concert is . . . we’re doubling it for our Christmas concert
Derek: shoot . . . you did that on purpose
I need to give him something. I flip to the calendar. Sunday’s free—totally.
Beth: how about I take the train up to Toronto on Sunday and watch your broadcast? that would be cool
Derek: come Sunday and sing with me
Beth: please, just let me hide out in the crowd . . . I’d love to be your groupie
Derek: NO . . . I’ll email you the music
Beth: I can’t
He ignores that last post—I’m sure of it. Within three minutes there’s an email in my inbox with an attachment.
I hit reply and type, “There’s absolutely no way on earth I can do this.”
It’s late. I’m whipped, and his hyper-confidence in me makes me angry. It sounds cool—him and me singing a song we wrote on the radio. What I wouldn’t give to do that. But that song is too beautiful, means too much. My words would clunk against his music. I don’t have beauty inside me like he does. I’m the Beast. Ugly. That’s all I can write.
Since that night when I told him I couldn’t leave Bliss and we fought in the park, I’ve been patient and understanding. Crap. I haven’t even met his mom. I’ve let him get away with it. It’s all exactly how he wants. He’s not going to make me do this.
Next morning I get a text from Derek on my way to my locker to dump my backpack: try 2 lines
I chuck my bag into the locker. “Crap.” I key in: 0 lines and mash the send button.
Scott arrives in time for that performance. “I don’t like the way he treats you.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I have to see you like this every day.”
“Like what?” I jerk my head around and glare at him. “I’m
fine
.”
fine
.”
He frowns and leans against his locker. “Uptight. On edge. Isolated—even from me.”
I scowl at him. “I’m really happy with Derek.”
“Deliriously. I can see that.” Scott folds his arms across his chest.
“When we’re together—”
“Doesn’t seem to happen much.” He leans toward me. “What’s with that guy?”
“We’re both really busy.”
“Too bad. Maybe you should look closer to home.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Scott’s surprised. I haven’t given him an opening like that for weeks. He steps closer. “We’d be together whenever we want. At school and after. Weekends.” His dark blue eyes get intense. “If you would just let me in.”
“I’m busy, though. My choir and the CD. Not to mention all these AP classes I’m taking this year.”
“We study well together. Don’t you miss that?”
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