Swell (27 page)

Whether he looked like Christian or not, Beck had to get the beer and this guy was it.

“Hey there.” I sauntered up to his car. He gave me a big, white-toothed grin and in an instant, I wanted to turn around and run. It was too much like looking into Christian’s eyes, but Beck carried on.

I held out my birthday present and asked, “Would you buy me a 12-pack?”

He scrutinized me before taking the money. His beautiful grin fell into a flat line. “What kind?”

“Anything.” The brand didn’t matter, just the contents inside the bottle or can.

I waited, my body and personality now completely separated. I was standing outside of myself, and saw the handsome man come out with two bags. He handed one to me and was even thoughtful enough to give me the change. I thanked him, and he stood for a moment before speaking.

“Do I know you? You look familiar,” he said, giving me those eyes. Christian’s eyes.

I squirmed and held back my emotions. It was all I could do to keep from tossing the bag to the ground and wrapping my arms around this living, breathing Christian-lookalike.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Ah, well. Have a good time.” He got back into his car and sped away.

I took the bag and walked behind the building.

/////

I woke up on the municipal golf course under a grove of trees. The morning tee-off had just started, and I could hear the hum of golf carts as they approached my location. My pants were soaked with pee, and I had vomit all over my neck and shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

I looked up into the glare and saw a grandpa-type man bending over me. Two more grandpas stood at his side, holding their clubs with great concern on their faces.

He bent down to help me sit up. “Jerry, get the cart. This girl’s in bad shape.” The green spun around and I felt my stomach turn inside out.

“Will, do you have a towel?” Someone tossed a hand towel at grandpa #1, and he wiped my face and neck, discarding the towel to the side.

“Do you know where you are, miss?”

I was aware of the greenery that surrounded me; I was either on a golf course or in a cemetery. I’d heard the golf carts and seen the clubs, so my guess was a no-brainer.
“Golf.”

The Jerry grandpa brought the cart around, and the men loaded me into the vehicle, layering several more towels on my body. One of them held onto me, even though I was buckled into the seat. Jerry grandpa pushed the cart to the limit as it traveled over bumps, jostling whatever was left in my stomach.

“Take her to the clubhouse, Jerry.” A one-story building of brick and glass loomed ahead. My mind blanked out for a moment, and then I was in the clubhouse lobby, staining the leather couch with my filth.

Grandpa #1 and Jerry grandpa were talking to a man in pink plaid pants and a yellow polo shirt.
“We found her under the trees at the #2 tee! Kid’s in rough shape.”

“Did she have a purse or anything?”

I sat up and attempted to communicate. “I. Have. Purse.”

I smoothed my hands around the couch in search of my purse. It wasn’t there.

“I’m Phil, the course manager,” said the colorful man. “What’s your name, sweetie?” He bent over and gave me a smile like I was a little girl in trouble. His breath smelled of stale dentures. I was sure mine was twice as bad.

“Beck… Rebecca,” I replied. Phil stood up and pulled a phone from his pocket.

“We need to call someone to come get you, Rebecca,” he said in a booming voice, like I was hard of hearing. “Do you remember your phone number?”

I thought for a moment he was going to let me use the phone, but he held it tight. Seeing that I was covered in yuck, it was a good move on his part. He called my parents, and I could hear my dad’s voice roaring through the receiver. He was probably, at this point, smoking
in front
of my mom.

“Your dad’s coming to get you. Did you want to freshen up in the ladies room?” He asked, pointing toward a wood-paneled hall.

“Yes.” I slowly rose to my feet, my legs like rubber-encased bones that somehow carried me to the toilet.

It was a little old lady bathroom, with pink walls and potpourri on the backs of the toilets. Bottles of perfume sat on the counter, and I used all of them after washing the vomit from my skin with Boraxo and scratchy paper towels.

Little good my sink bath did. Here I was, covered with dried puke, wet pants, and still drunk, feeling like the black-hearted girl my father had once called me. I wanted to curl up under a blanket, in the closet, under Christian’s box, and just die. I would have climbed out the bathroom window if there had been one. Instead, I had to turn around and face it all. It had to change. That meant I did, too.

If I was brave enough to approach strange men in parking lots, ride off with them to obscure places, and do some of the things they wanted for a drink, then I could certainly face my parents.

My dad charged into the clubhouse and looked around the expanse with wild eyes. Phil approached him and they talked for a bit. My dad’s head bobbed up and down in reaction to a conversation I couldn’t hear, his frantic eyes searching for me. I was still in the wood-paneled hall, peeking out from behind the bathroom door.

Step out. Do it. Now.

The left foot went first, then the right. I repeated this again until I reached my dad. His face screwed up into a silent nightmare, a promise of the raking I’d receive in the car.

“Thank you,” he said to Phil before motioning me toward the parking lot. I hung my head down and repeated my mantra of stepping out, doing it, and doing it now.

I braced myself for what was sure to come, buckled my seatbelt and kept my face low. My parents rarely spanked me as a child. All that could change in an instant, and I’d understand why.

What I didn’t understand was my dad wrapping his arms around me. His face melted into a puddle of wet, his skin red from emotion. He sobbed into my shoulder, and held me almost too tight. I hugged him back.

“Dad, it’s okay.”

He pulled away and looked at me. “I don’t know what we did wrong. We thought we raised you to be your own person… someone who understands right from wrong.”

“You did.”

“But you changed. And then things happened and you changed more. Now we get a call that you’ve been found on a golf course. Drunk
.
We’ve been up all night, wondering where the hell you were.” He started to sob again, but caught himself like men typically do, and held back a second wave of emotion.

“I. Have. A. Problem.” The words fell from my lips like heavy bricks, only to settle on my face like salve for my wounds. A sense of peaceful healing came over my mind and I reached out for my dad.

I looked into his reddened eyes, full of love and heartbreak. “I need help, Dad.”

His mouth quivered as he tried to speak the words that hid behind it. “We… we want to help you. We’ve wanted to for a long time.”

My mind wandered to the green and white cards I’d received. After spending a few months rolling around in my purse amongst the beer cans, I’d put them away in my dresser drawer. Now that my purse was gone, I was grateful I had the sense to tuck the cards somewhere safe.

He started the car and let the engine idle. “If you need to go somewhere, we can do that. There’s groups that can help. As long as you try.”

Trying was never an option until I woke up drunk on the green, just like the “true” alcoholics I’d so shrewdly judged in the past. Now I was trying for my life.

The A.A. cards felt like the thinnest paper in my hands. Probably from tumbling over sweating cans and rubbing against packets of gum, bottles of vanilla, and a condom or two in my purse. They were both for the same meeting place.

I’d wanted to go to a meeting that night, but my body dragged like a dead cat as I struggled to clean-up and get dressed. My head ached like a tornado full of spikes was whirling through it.

“Honey, I’m sure you can go tomorrow,” said my mom.

“But I need to start
now
.” My heart felt like it would fail if I didn’t put my all into this right away.

I wolfed down a potato and a glass of milk, my body starved for the instant energy of carbs and the satiety of liquid protein. Every cell soaked up the nutrition, pushing out the toxicity of the night before. It had been a long time since I smelled this way — like an aluminum can sitting in the middle of a bar.  No amount of soap or deodorant would make it disappear from my pores.

“Happy birthday,” I said, brushing my wet hair. The reflection showed a 16-year-old girl looking well beyond her years. In drinking a 12-pack of beer, I’d aged like a piece of leather in the sun.

I looked at the gifts on my bed. One was from Jenna, a little purple box with a shiny yellow ribbon. A small white card was taped to its side. The other was an anonymous blue envelope. I opened Jenna’s first.

Beck,

We’ve been through lots of things together. Ever since the third grade, you’ve taught me to be myself, express my creativity, and be free in whatever I wanted to do. Thank you.

I love you very much. Happy Birthday!

- Jenna

I peeled the paper off the velvet jewelry box. The lid creaked like an ancient door when opened, revealing the sparkling half of a broken heart. I took the necklace and drew it across my throat. Its stones glistened in the lamp light.

She must have had the other half. I wanted to call her right then, but held back, ashamed that she already knew what had happened to me, and afraid to tell her if she didn’t. Besides, my phone had gone missing with my purse, and I wasn’t about to have an intimate conversation with my best friend on the kitchen land line.

I reached for the blue envelope and opened it with a bobby pin. The card inside had googlie eyes glued to the picture of an old lady. She didn’t have teeth and half her hair was missing. Really nice.

Rebecca the Great –

You REALLY are! Did you know that? I think so. That’s why I want to wish you the very happiest 16
th
birthday ever. You are the best thing in my life, and I can’t wait to share more with you.

All my love – Jesse

My eyes blurred with tears as I read his words over and over. He’d given me all his love, without my having to do anything other than be myself. It felt as real as air, like a fresh morning fog filling the lungs. Land line or not, I had to call him.

It had been some time since I fought with the kitchen phone, a white box circa 1989, with buttons and a twisted cord that tethered it to the wall.

“I thought you were resting, Rebecca.” My mom stopped her chores to give me a concerned look. I slid onto a barstool next to the phone and picked up the receiver.

“My phone… it’s gone. I need to call Jesse.” I gave her big, sad eyes that begged her to get my dad and go out of the room. She got the hint.

“Hun, I have something I want to show you,” she said, running her hand over my dad’s head.

“Huh?” He gave her a confused look before it clicked and he followed her to the bedroom. He probably thought it was time for ice cream.

The phone crackled as I paced the floor. The voicemail picked up. I left a short message that I’d received his card and that it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever written me. I felt sad that I couldn’t speak to him personally.

With my social tasks completed, my body again reminded me that I needed to rest. I crashed onto the bed, buried my face in the tear-stained toga sheet, and was out cold within seconds.

Chapter 29

Some people just give me the creeps, like half-asleep druggy people and men who keep their moving hands deep inside their pockets. Others make me question my safety, especially if they have tattooed-on sleeves and chain maille hanging from their face. Even more so, I dreaded being around the beautiful people, just like the ones Christian knew, with their daddy-bought cars and perfectly stylized wardrobes.

It seems all of these people were standing in front of the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting place when I arrived. Girls with Coach purses, men with no hair in leather jackets and biker boots, a couple of Latinos, and post-heroin aficionados congregated to drink coffee out of the foam cups I’d mocked.

My dad made a u-turn at the intersection after we passed the meeting. He pulled up to the curb a few yards away, exhaled, and looked at me.

He took my trembling hand. “I’m proud of you, Rebecca.”

“This is hard.” I looked at the people in the distance. They would soon be looking back at me, the new girl, the
new drunk
.

“Are you sure you can do this by yourself?” His eyes offered assistance, and although I knew he was willing to go to the meeting with me, it was my own cross to bear.

“I’m okay, Dad. Just don’t forget to pick me up.” I grabbed my new purse, compliments of my mom, and checked to make sure my equally new phone was tucked in its pocket. I waved to my dad before I turned and headed toward my fears.