Unbreakable (19 page)

I offer up the few words I have left in me. “I will love you forever.
Forever
. Don’t you ever forget that.” I summon the energy to slowly shut the door on everything I have ever loved and walk away to the sounds of her loud sobs inside the house behind me.

Resting my head on the edge of the toilet seat, I try to catch my breath in between my bouts of vomiting and crying. Wiping my nose on the sleeve of my shirt, I muster the strength to push myself into a sitting position. My lungs are burning, and my stomach won’t stop clenching, causing me to dry heave. I just pushed the most important person in my life, the only man I’ve ever loved out of my life, and I’m not even sure why. Another wave of nausea hits, and I’m hunched back over the toilet again, spewing nothing but stomach acid, as I haven’t eaten in two days. Closing my eyes, I rest my head back on the toilet seat. I know it’ll be just a matter of time before I throw up again.

Waking up, I realize I must have fallen asleep on the bathroom floor. My face is pressed to the cold tile. Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I am overcome with dizziness, and my head is pounding. I feel hung over but I know it’s from the hours, make that days, that I’ve spent crying and throwing up. Taking a minute to get my bearings, I stand up and walk myself over to the sink. Grabbing my toothbrush, I spread a sizeable amount of toothpaste across the soft bristles and brush my teeth and mouth.

Standing upright, I catch my reflection in the mirror. I don’t even recognize myself. I am a shell of what I used to look like. My skin is pale and light compared to my normal olive skin tone. I’m still covered in bruises; some have started to heal, casting a greenish-yellow hue to them. My brown hair is stringy and dry, unlike its normal full, bouncy waves. My lips are light pink, cracked, and dry, instead of plump and bright pink. I don’t even know who the fuck I’m looking at in the mirror. A single tear falls from my eye, and I watch it trail down my cheek, falling as it lands on the bathroom counter.

For two weeks, I’ve stayed holed up in my house. I’ve successfully avoided any contact with Gabe, Ava, and any of the Garcia’s for that fact. I’ve ignored phone calls from the detectives working my case, and calls for follow-up doctor appointments. I’ve successfully shut the rest of the world out. Dad has spent almost every day working—his coping mechanism, and I have spent two weeks on the couch, watching bad reality shows—
my
coping mechanism, remaining numb to life outside of my own. I waver back and forth between blaming Gabe for going to work that night, to understanding that this isn’t his fault. I want so badly to find a reason to hate him, so that my actions in pushing him away are justified, but my heart could never hate him.

Last week was spring break, and so far for this week, I have skipped all my classes. One week of missed classes won’t set me too far behind, but I’m just not ready to face the outside world yet. I’ve been dodging calls and voicemails from my academic advisor. I know she is calling to discuss my internship, and that is the furthest thing on my mind. Janet’s ears must have been burning, as my phone rings again, and her familiar number flashes across the screen.

“Hello?” I answer quietly.

“Jessica? This is Janet, Janet Collins from SRSU. I’ve left you a couple of voice messages. We need to talk about your internship. We have a problem.” As if I can deal with one more problem in my life right now. I sit, silently crying, listening to dead air, not even sure I care about what she has to tell me. Finally, I sniffle, breaking the silence.

“Jessica, are you alright?”

“Actually no, I’m not,” I speak barely audible.

“It’s just an internship, we’ll get you another one,” she says. I didn’t realize that my other one had fallen through, but I guess that’s why she’s calling me.

“Your local internship was cancelled due to mandatory cuts at the station. They couldn’t take on supervising interns while they are reducing staff. They just don’t have the resources,” she says, sounding regretful.

“I understand,” I respond, still sniffling.

“But I have an opportunity I want to talk to you about. I know you don’t want to leave California, but it’s a really, really good opportunity. I’d like to discuss it with you. Will you please be open to speaking with me about it?” Silence fills the phone line between us.

“Sure,” I whisper.

“Good. Be at my office at three o’clock. We have to jump on this fast.” She doesn’t even say goodbye before hanging up the phone. Checking the time on my cell phone, it’s already one o’clock, and I need to shower and see if I can somehow make myself look presentable. Dragging myself off the couch, I decide it’s now or never to face the real world.

Hesitantly, I knock on Janet’s office door.

“Come on in.”

My hand shakes as I turn the doorknob and push the door open.

“Hi,” I offer sheepishly. Typing, ever so fast on her keyboard, she swivels her chair around with a huge smile on her face, until she sees mine. A quiet, yet audible gasp escapes her as her smile fades and concern washes over her face.

“Hi. Take a seat.” Her voice is quiet and her posture has become more rigid. “Before I get into all the details about this internship, I have to ask you if you’re okay? You’re face…”

I interrupt her. “Is bruised, I know. Am I okay? I don’t know. I’m all over the place. This is the first time I’ve left my house in damn near three weeks,” I mumble.

“I have to ask you this, so please don’t be offended. Did your boyfriend…” I scoff at her insinuation that Gabe would ever hurt me. He would never.

“No. He didn’t, and he’s not my boyfriend anymore. If you must know all you have to do is read the newspaper or watch the news,” I interrupt her as my voice breaks.

Her eyes grow with my admission, and she inhales sharply. “Washington Park?”

I nod as tears blur my eyes. I hear her chair roll over to me, and a small, soft hand rests on top of mine.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, causing me to flinch.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault,” I whisper. “Just please tell me about this internship. Tell me something so that I stop thinking about all of this.” I wave my hand up and down my body from my face to my feet. Nodding, she pulls her hand away and rolls her chair back to her desk. Wiping my tears with the back of my hand, I listen intently as she describes what very well may be an escape from my miserable reality.

Leaving Janet’s office, my head is spinning with everything she just dumped on me: internship, North Carolina, guaranteed, leave in three weeks, school credit. I think I left her head spinning with everything I dumped on her as well. Before I left Janet’s office, she sat and cried with me, and listened to me, and reassured me. It was the first time in two weeks that I felt like talking to someone. Maybe I would come out of this on the other side not completely shattered. I have to decide in the next week if I’m going to take this internship in North Carolina, as they want me there on the first of May. I would be missing the last three weeks of school, but the internship counts as credit, and Janet has arranged for me to test out of the remainder of my classes should I decide to go. She claims it’s an opportunity too good to pass up.

North Carolina. I’ve never been there. Janet tells me it’s on the water and that it’s beautiful. I would be leaving everything I have ever known here in California, but then it’s not like I have anything here anymore. I’ve pushed Gabe, Ava, and everyone else away, and Dad has buried himself in work again. It’s actually an easy decision. I need to take this internship. I need to do this for me.

This is the first time I’ve been out of my house since Dad drove me home from the hospital almost three weeks ago. It’s bright and sunny and warm. I drive home with my windows down and feel the fresh air whip my hair around, slapping me in the face. Turning the corner onto our street, I try not to look at the Garcia’s house as I drive by. Remembering the excitement I used to feel coming home, turning the corner and onto our street, anxiously looking to see if Gabe was home, I find myself caught in the same habit. I look. His truck is in the driveway for the first time in two weeks, I assume he’s been staying over at Luke’s apartment, as far away as possible from his house and me.

My heart beats a little faster knowing that he is just across the street. However, for the last two weeks I’ve ignored his calls and texts until he finally stopped sending them. Pulling my car into the driveway, I raise the windows and step out. The smell of the blooming flowers on the citrus trees catches me, and I throw my head back as I close my eyes and just breathe. I breathe in deeply the scent of those citrus blossoms and feel the warm sun on my face. For the first time in two weeks, a sense of peace falls over me, if only for a few short seconds.

Raising my head, I open my eyes, and push the button on my key fob, locking my car doors. Looking back to my car to ensure I’d shut the windows, I glance up to see Gabe standing in his driveway staring at me. He doesn’t smile or wave at me, or show any emotion toward me at all. He just stares at me, and I stand frozen, staring back at him, the sweetest man, the only man I’ve ever loved stands in defeat.

Lowering my eyes down to my feet, I raise them slowly, to find him still standing there, staring directly at me. His stance is firm, but his shoulders are slack. I raise my right hand slightly to indicate a half-hearted wave. He doesn’t move, he just stands and stares at me. Turning myself around, I walk slowly up the front porch, and into my house, glancing back at the man that I love that looks so broken. By the time I lock the door, set my purse down, and peek out the window, he and his truck are gone. I promise myself that before I leave I will talk to him.

For the past four weeks I’ve sent Jess countless e-mails and text messages, and I have gotten nothing in return. I never leave my phone; it’s attached to my hand. Every time there is a ping, or a chime, or a ring, my heart stops, hoping she’ll have finally decided to respond to me, to provide me answers, a glimmer of hope, a ‘fuck-off,’ something—anything. It’s the silence that is killing me.