The Art of Life (49 page)

               
He just raises an eyebrow.
 
“Who are you dressing all sexy for?”

               
“No one, but
myself.
 
A girl needs to feel
good, even underneath her clothes.”

               
“Back to the subject of living
together, if you want to walk around the house in your underwear, I am all for
it.
 
Especially those bras and panties,
those I could definitely see every day,” Jeremy emphasizes with a huge grin.

               
My hand comes back and I punch
him in the arm.
 
“I will not parade
around in nothing.
 
Geez, I have barely
been around guys. What makes you think I am going to be all naked around one?”

               
“Well, I will probably walk
around half clothed.
 
You will just have
to deal with it.”

               
The images of
that start to run through my head.
 
He says that like it’s a bad thing.
 
Oh
my gosh
!
 
I can’t be having these thoughts!
 
He is your best friend Isabelle, YOUR BEST FRIEND.
 
Stop gawking over him.
 

               
“I will need to get a dresser
for some of this stuff,” I say, trying to change the subject.

               
“Yeah, I plan to buy you one and
a desk, so you can do your homework and stuff.
 
We can go tomorrow.
 
Do you have
any idea when you want to go back to school?”

               
That makes me reach for my throat.
 
“Not until this heals a little more.”

               
“We should probably call your
guidance counselor.
 
They are going to
wonder where you are and if they contact your mom, it may turn into a huge
mess,” Jeremy points out.

               
“Okay, I will call now.
 
She is usually in for a little while after
school.”
 
Turning I go into the living
room and grab my phone.
 
I dial the
school’s number,
it’s
rings for a while.

               
“Hello, Jeffrey High, how may I
help you?”

               
“May I speak to Miss Cunningham,
please?” I ask nicely.

               
The receptionist
replies,
“Hold please.”

               
I hear a beeping for a bit and
then Miss. Cunningham picks up.
 
“Hello,
this is Miss. Cunningham.”

               
“Hi, umm, this is Isabelle
Nimon
,
I
need to talk to you.”

               
“Yes, Isabelle, we were
wondering what was going on.
 
You haven’t
been in school and we have not had any phone calls.”

               
Sitting down on the couch, I run
my fingers through my hair.
 
“Well, there
is some stuff I need to explain to you.”

               
“Okay,” she replies.
 
“Go ahead.”

               
“To start off with, I moved out
of my mom’s house.
 
See, she is an
alcoholic.
 
It’s been that way my whole
life.
 
I learned to deal with it when I
was a kid, and honestly, it was horrible but I made it through, but the other
night I was assaulted.”

               
“Excuse me?” Miss. Cunningham
says, obviously concerned.

               
Taking a deep breath, I try
really hard to not start crying.
 
“My mom
has, or had, this new boyfriend named Howard.
 
Two nights ago, I was home and they were there.
 
I guess my mom left to go to the liquor store
and I was left alone with Howard.
 
I…..I
didn’t know that.
 
Anyway, he came into
my room and……assaulted me.”

               
“Did you call the police?
 
Was he arrested?
 
Did you go the emergency room?”

               
“He didn’t get far enough to
actually….well, he didn’t get that far.
 
My mom came in and he stopped and left.”

               
There is obviously a sigh of
relief on the other end.
 
“That is good.”

               
“Well, yes, it was, but the
thing is, my mom doesn’t really care.
 
She actually blamed me and said it was my fault.”

               
“You know it wasn’t right?”

               
I bite my lip and then reply, “Yeah,
I know.
 
I just can’t live there anymore,
not after that.
 
I moved in with my
friend Jeremy.”

               
“Are you 18?” Miss. Cunningham
asks.

               
“Yes, I am.”

               
“My concern is if you are going
to be able to take care of yourself.”

               
My eyes drift to Jeremy.
 
“I am worried about that too, but Jeremy says
he can support me.”

               
“He can?
 
Are you sure about this?”

               
“That’s what he says,” I retort.

               
Jeremy sticks out his hand, “Let
me talk to her.”

               
“Hold on Miss. Cunningham,” I
say, handing him the phone.

               
“Hi,” he says, “My name is
Jeremy Stoll. I just wanted to reassure you that I can be responsible for
Isabelle.
 
I have more than enough money
and the means to do it.
 
She will be
taken better care of with me than her mother.
 
I can promise you that.”
 
There is
silence as Miss. Cunningham talks to him.
 
“I will bring in financial records if you need me to.”
 
That makes me raise my eyebrows.
 
“Well, if it is necessary, I will.”
 
He nods his head.
 
“Yes, I will gladly come in with her.
 
Okay, hold on a second.”
 
Jeremy hands me the phone back.

               
Bringing it up to my ear, I say,
“Hello.”

               
“I would like it if you would
come in tomorrow, so we can go over everything.”

               
“Umm,” I mumble.
 
“I would rather not, not yet.
 
I have some injuries that are really visible,
that I don’t want anyone to see.”

               
“It may be good if I come to
where you are living anyway.
 
To check it
out and make sure everything is okay.
 
You are 18, but there will be concern because you are still in school,”
Miss. Cunningham articulates.

               
I look up at Jeremy.
 
“Is it okay if she comes here?”

               
“Yeah,” Jeremy replies.
 
“That is fine.”

               
“When would you be able to
come?” I ask Miss. Cunningham.

               
She responds, “Tomorrow.
 
I can come after lunch.
 
I don’t have anything until 2.”

               
“Okay,” I say.

               
“Do I need to go to the police
with you?” She inquires calmly.

               
“Oh!” I exclaim, “No, I went to
the station yesterday and filed a report.”

               
Miss. Cunningham says, “That is
good.
 
Why don’t you give me Jeremy’s
address.
 
Do you need
your homework?
 
Would you like for me to
collect it for you?”

               
“That would be great.
 
My books are in my locker though,” I
reply.
 
“Can Jeremy come by and pick them
up?”

               
“I will get them and bring them
with me.
 
Can I explain what happened to
your teachers, so they know?”

               
Frowning, I ask, “Do you have
to?”

               
“No, actually I don’t.
 
This is something we can keep privately
between ourselves.
 
I will just say you
will be having an extended absence,” Miss. Cunningham replies.

               
“Thank you,” I sigh.
 
“I really don’t want anyone to know.”

               
“That is understandable,” Miss.
Cunningham retorts.
 
“Well, can you give
me Jeremy’s address and I will come by tomorrow?”

               
I look up at Jeremy.
 
“What is your address?”

               
“1864 Mariner Drive, tell her
it’s the upstairs apartment,” he answers.

               
“Miss. Cunningham,
it’s
1864 Mariner Drive.
 
The side steps lead to the upstairs apartment.
 
That is where we are.”

               
There is a pause, as Miss.
Cunningham writes it down.
 
“Okay
Isabelle, I will be there, probably around 1.
 
Does that sound alright?”

               
“Yeah.”

               
“Okay, I will see you tomorrow
then.
 
Try and take it easy.
 
We will get you through this,” Miss.
Cunningham reassures me.

               
“Thank you,” I respond.

               
With a sigh, she says, “Bye
Isabelle.”

               
“Bye,” I reply, hanging up my
phone.
 
My hands are shaking a little
bit.
 
I set my phone down and start to
wring them.
 
“Ugh,” I groan.
 
“I shouldn’t be this upset.
 
It is just too much.”

               
“You are handling it really
well,” Jeremy states, sitting down next to me.
 
He puts his arm around me.
 
“I am
proud of you.”

               
Turning I wrap my arms around
him.
 
“Thank you for everything you are
doing.”

               
“Isabelle, stop thanking
me.
 
It makes me happy to help you.
 
I appreciate you being thankful, but no more
saying it, alright?”

               
I nod my head.
 
“Okay.”

               
“I don’t know about you but I am
hungry,” he mumbles.
 
“We are ordering
pizza, because I really want some breadsticks.”

               
That makes me laugh.
 
“Okay, sounds good to me.”

               
So, Jeremy orders pizza, and I
start to hang my artwork in my room.
 
It
is time consuming because I have to do it very specifically.
 
Jeremy hangs out in the living room, to watch
the news.
 
I don’t mind, it is nice to
have a moment to myself.

               
Later, after we have eaten and
watched enough TV to make me sick, I yawn.
 
“I am going to go to sleep.”

               
“Okay,” Jeremy replies.
 
“I am going to leave my bedroom door open
tonight.
 
If you need to, come in.”

               
“Thanks,”’ I reply.
 
I bend over and kiss him on the cheek.
 
“You are too good to me.”

               
He grabs my hand and squeezes
it.
 
“If you need me, I am here.”

               
A smile creeps across my face,
and I whisper, “Thanks.”
 
Turning, I go
into my room to get ready for bed.

               
That night, I do have nightmares
again.
 
I shoot up in bed in a cold
sweat.
 
Being in a different room throws
me for a loop.
 
I run my fingers through
my hair and sigh.
 
As much as I want to
go crawl into Jeremy’s bed, I don’t think I should.
 
Getting up, I go into the kitchen to get some
water.
 
Afterwards, I turn the light off
and walk back down the hall.
 
Suddenly, Jeremy
is standing there, and I scream.