Chapter 8
"Annaliese!" my father shouted up the stairs at me. I was just drying my hair after having an early shower that Saturday morning. I quickly shut off the hairdryer and jogged to the top of the stairs.
"Yes, sir?"
"Come down here. Your mother and I want to talk to you." And by that he meant he wanted to talk to me and my mother was going to sit quietly while he did so. I nodded back at him and made my way down into the living room. My mom was sat on the couch and my father had positioned himself on the arm of the couch, next to her. I stood in front them both and waited.
"Your mother and I are leaving this afternoon, and going to California for the week. We will be back on Friday. Now, while we are gone I expect you to clean and cook for yourself. I do not want to see anything out of place when we get back. You may not have the boys you are working with from school over here. You are not to go to their houses either. If I am not around to keep an eye on you, Lord knows what you will get up to. We will leave you with enough money to do the weekly grocery shop and for lunch money at school. If I hear anything other than what I have just said, you will be in serious trouble. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He gestured towards the door, which meant that I was allowed to leave, and I did so quickly. I tried so hard to contain my smile that was forming as I walked away. Once a year, they always did this. My father would drag my mother across the country to another state, and I would be left alone all week. He started doing this when I was just 8 years old, but it was a God send.
As I got back into my room and shut the door, I smiled the most genuine smile I'd smiled in months. I could have cried, I was so happy. I could act like a normal person for a few days.
My hair was still damp, so I went back over to my mirror and continued to dry my hair. I stared at my reflection, smiling back at myself. My black eye had turned a lighter shade of purple with yellow spots around it, and the lump on my head had shrunk slightly. I wasn't looking so beat up, but I definitely looked tired. Dark bags sagged under my eyes. I hadn't had that much sleep the previous night. I had stayed up, unable to drift off, just crying for hours on end. About everything. I let everything out and sobbed into a pillow. I suppose, I was more upset about being a charity case than anything else when it started, but then I began drowning in my own tears and thoughts and before I knew it, I was not only sobbing, I was slicing into my wrist again.
As I thought about the previous night, the new smile on my face faded. I knew it was only temporary. It always is. I had just hoped it would last more than three minutes…
I turned off the hairdryer and put it down on my desk. My eyes drifted over to my long sleeved shirt, and I rolled my sleeve up to my elbow. The lacerations littered my already scarred skin. They were brutal and deep, still incredibly sore. One of them - the deepest - had started to bleed again after I got out of the shower. I ran my fingers over them, tracing them as the sadness welled up inside me. The cuts from the beginning of the week had scabbed over, only now starting to heal. They looked ghastly.
I had a roll of bandages in my sock drawer that I would always use after I'd hurt myself badly, so I took them out and wrapped one over my forearm. It stung a little, but that was to be expected.
I needed a distraction, to take my mind away from the crippling sadness within it, and considering I had finished any homework I had, the only thing I could think of was to play guitar. I was never sure why, but playing guitar was the one thing my father was okay with. In fact, the one good memory I have with him was from when I was 14. He had heard me playing from downstairs, and when he came upstairs I stopped immediately, thinking he was going to punish me for playing too loud. But instead, he walked into my room without uttering a single word, sat down in front of me on my bed, and rolled his hand in a gesture that meant "carry on". So I did. I played all kinds of songs for him, singing along too. I knew he liked Queen and AC/DC, so I played a lot of their songs for him, and he sat and listened. He never said a word.
To anyone else, that would seem a pretty dull memory, but to me, it was the happiest one I had with my father.
I decided playing a few Queen songs would actually be a nice idea, so I rolled my sleeve down over the fresh bandage and picked up my guitar, sitting down on the edge of my bed. After a few songs, I heard his footsteps on the stairs. Living in the same house for almost 18 years gives you the advantage of knowing who is walking up the stairs by the individual creaks of certain floorboards, and how loud said creaks are.
I continued to play an acoustic rendition of "One Vision" as his footsteps grew louder. They stopped outside my bedroom door and waited until I had finished the song, and then they continued into my parent's room. The corner of my mouth twitched into a smile. He had stopped to listen. That in itself was a huge sign of approval. There was something my dad was interested in about my life. He wasn't just a monster.
"We'll see you when you get home from school on Friday, okay sweetie?" my mum had my face held in her hands, holding me in that motherly way, like she was worried about leaving me.
"Yeah, okay. I'll be fine, Mom. Really." I smiled to reassure her, and she dropped her hands, smiling back at me.
"I know you will be," she pulled me into a hug and whispered into my ear. "Enjoy your time alone. He'll be back sooner than you think, so enjoy it, okay?" I nodded. She understood. She got it. She wasn't allowed time away from him, so she knew how valuable this time would be to me.
Dad walked down the stairs as we broke apart, a big black suitcase in one hand filled with not only his, but mom's clothes too. She wasn't allowed to pack, or pick what to take. That was controlled by him.
"Annaliese, I've changed my mind; you may go to these boys' houses to study, and study only. Hearing you play earlier made me realise that actually, music is important to you, and therefore this assignment is important to you."
I was shocked. Since when did he care what was important to me?
"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that."
"Good. We'll see you on Friday."
"Yes, sir." He and my mother left through the front door, and I stood in the doorway to wave them off. The further down the road they drove, the more relief washed over me, and the more freedom I felt.
"Hey mom, there's something in the back room. Hope it's not them creatures from above…" I sang along to Aliens Exist by blink as I sketched alone in my room. My stomach interrupted, rumbling loudly. I thought it best I check the contents of the kitchen before my stomach's protests became unbearable.
As far as I could see, we had nothing in. I, of course, was in charge of grocery shopping for the week, so I had to go at some point. Perhaps I should go now, I thought to myself, rather than let myself starve until tomorrow. So I jogged upstairs, shut off my music, threw on some tatty, old Converse and grabbed my car keys from my desk.
For a Saturday afternoon, the local grocery store was surprisingly quiet. I wondered down aisle after aisle with my shopping cart, picking out the odd box of this, and packet of that. I bought a few of the regular things my mom would come home with, but replaced a few things with a couple of treats for myself, like a tub of ice cream or a bar of chocolate; things I very rarely get. This was my week. And I could do anything I liked, as long as I destroyed the evidence.
As I turned down the 5th aisle in the store, I stopped to pick out a cereal that I wanted to eat, rather than the bran crap my father made me eat. Lucky Charms. Why the hell not, right?
"Anna?" Oh, shit…
I looked up and saw Alex with a basket in his left hand and a half smile on his face. I guessed the expression on my face was far from happy.
"Oh, uh… Hi, Alex," I tried to turn away as fast as I could to go down the next aisle and away from him, but he stopped me.
"Whoa, hey…Have I done something wrong?" when I looked back at his face, he looked concerned, almost scared of an answer. I didn't want him to know that I knew about his motives, but at the same time, how could I go on pretending everything was okay? What the hell should I say to him?
"I just…Um…Need to get home…" I turned to go down the next aisle, quickly whipping through the rest of the store before heading to the checkout. Alex was hot on my heels the whole time, at first asking what was wrong, over and over, but he eventually gave up when he realised I wouldn't answer and followed me quietly. I just wish he didn't follow me at all.
When I paid for the items in my cart he paid for his at the checkout next to mine. He finished first, and came over to help me pack, still not saying a word. I let him. I mean, I couldn't exactly shout at him in the middle of the grocery store… He helped me with the bags all the way out to my car, and sat on the edge of the trunk, stopping me from shutting it. He folded his arms and crossed his feet, staring up at me expectantly.
"…What?"
"So what's up? Why are you suddenly so… I don't know, cold around me? Ever since we spoke in the hall yesterday, you just seem to be avoiding me. Did I piss you off that much? Because I'm sorry, if I did…I really am," he asked, the same puppy dog expression on his face that he had at the end of school yesterday.
"Well, you did piss me off, but you already know that so I don't understand why you're asking that…"
"So what can I do to show you I'm sorry? I just want to be friends again, and it's not fair on Jack either 'cause he really digs you too, it's not just me. And Olivia and Rian like you too…"
"Alex I just don't do friends, okay?" The tone of my voice was blunt and a little harsh. I regretted the way I said that as soon as the words rolled off my tongue, but I needed him to realise…
"Why not? What are you scared of, Anna? Friends help each other. Friends have fun. Friends are there for each other. Friends are so important."
"Cut it out, I know exactly why you want to be my friend Alex and I do not want to be your pet project!" He flinched backwards slightly, his thick eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion.
"Pet project?" he stood up, moved closer to me, and put both of his hands just below my shoulders. "What on earth made you think you were some kind of pet project?"
"Well, Holly said that…"
"Holly said what?" he interrupted me, leaning back and sighing as if to say I should have guessed…
"Well first she tried to tell me to back off, like you were her property or something, it was really weird. She seems to think that you like me as like… well, y'know…" he stared at me quietly, waiting to hear the rest, "and then she said that you only brought me into your group because I 'have issues' and you've noticed I'm really 'messed up'," I made air quotes with my fingers as I spoke, "and that you want to fix me. Apparently you'd act like you were into me and stuff and then once I'm supposedly fixed, you'd drop me again. She called me charity…"
H dropped his hands from my arms and sat on the edge of the trunk again. He buried his face in his hands.
"Was she telling the truth?" I asked, my voice shaking a little. My cheeks had become hot and probably red, and my eyes were stinging as if I was about to cry. He looked up very suddenly, slapping his hands on his knees.
"No. She was not. She is a manipulative bitch, Anna. She is so threatened by you that she just cannot handle that we're friends."
"Why would she be threatened by me?"
"Oh come on, you're beautiful, and you're not a bitch. Of course she's threatened by you. You're everything she's not, and that's good. Listen, Anna…" he stood up and faced me again, "you are not charity. You are not my project. You are not messed up," I scoffed aloud, "Okay, you're a little messed up," he smirked and I couldn't help but smile too, "but as your friend, it's my job to care about you, and try to make you feel better. I will fix this, okay? I'll tell Holly to shut the fuck up and set the record straight. It's about time I did. She needs to know that I can't stand her and I don't want to be with her." I nodded in silent agreement. "So, are we okay now?" he raised his eyebrows and held both of my hands in his.
"Yeah…Yeah, we're okay. I'm sorry I thought you were like that… What she said just kind of made sense. I had been wondering why you had suddenly decided to be my friend, and I was kind of upset about what happened in the hall…"
"Oh, yeah about that, I'm sorry I keep pressuring you like this. I should be supporting your decisions rather than trying to force you into making one. That's what friends do." He smiled down at me, my hands still in his. "I won't keep you any longer. You said you needed to get home, right?"
"Well, actually, I don't. I was just trying to run away from you. My parents have gone on vacation until Friday." Suddenly a huge cheeky grin spread across his face. "What?"
"So, you're not busy? Just shopping?"
"Yeah…"
"Cool. Drop your shit at home; we're going to Jack's." He picked up his bag from the floor and put it in the trunk with the rest of mine.
"W-what about your car?"
"Oh, I walked here. I was picking up some soda and chips and stuff to take with me. Remember Rian said we were having band practise at lunch yesterday? Well, you're invited. You can hang out, eat good food, stay over perhaps, get a little drunk… It'll be fun. Let's go!" he walked around to the passenger side of my car and hopped in. I just decided to go with it, so I shut the trunk and got in the car. Alex was shuffling through my CDs as I turned the key in the ignition. He picked out a Bowling For Soup album and turned the volume up.
"You're gonna have some fun while your parents are away," he shouted over the top of the music, and smiled cheekily at me. I smiled back and began reversing.
Yeah, I thought to myself. I deserve to have some fun.
