A/N Happy New Year!! I have no life so I was able to get this chapter written. It was a pretty easy chapter to write. Thanks to Wallflower04 for the beta. Enjoy!
Revelation
I eyed him as he grabbed every last piece of literature they had available at the Alateen meeting, but decided not to say anything. All I really wanted to do was get out of there and find a place to study for our exam.
He pulled out one of the pamphlets and began reading it out loud as we walked to the library. I listened for a while as he read some testimonials. Then he started reading some statistics about the Alateen members and I tuned out. When I tuned back in, he was in the middle of reading the twelve steps of Alateen.
"Dude," I interrupted, stopping and turning to him, "enough already. I went like you asked, can we just drop it now?"
He stared at me. "Grace, this is important. This is going to help you—"
"Yeah, but…" I fidgeted restlessly. I wasn't sorry we went, but he needed to let it go. "It's late, and we haven't studied, and I…don't wanna talk about it right now." I sighed and looked up at him.
He studied me for several minutes, his eyes calculating, like he was trying to determine the next step to take to produce his desired results.
Finally he nodded. "OK. For now."
---
I ran into him on the front steps of the school the next day. "Hey," I greeted, "storage room in five minutes?"
"Sure." He nodded eagerly, and I felt a smile creep on my face until he continued, "I was reading the pamphlet, Youth and the Alcoholic Parent, and it said--"
"Uhh, I just remembered that there's some….homework…I gotta finish. I'll catch ya later." I left him standing in the middle of the hall.
I arrived at my first class twenty minutes early. When in the world was I ever twenty minutes early for a class?
---
My IM beeped at me that afternoon.
GravitityBoy: Are you there?
I sighed as I debated whether to answer him. I had spent the rest of the day making sure I was never alone with him. It wasn't my idea of a good time, truthfully. It's like swearing off your favorite food, and then you suddenly have an insatiable craving for that food. But I knew he wasn't letting up on this Alateen thing, and I didn't feel like discussing it.
But now he was a computer away, so talking to him shouldn't be so bad.
BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Yeah, I'm here.
GravitityBoy: Have you read any of the pamphlets? They talk about keeping a journal.
I shook my head. This guy doesn't give up.
BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Yeah, dude, they talked about that at the meeting. I was there, remember?
GravitityBoy: Right. It's probably a good idea. Helps you sort out your feelings….
I glared at the screen. Sort out my feelings? OK, enough of this.
BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you…..sometime.
GravitityBoy: OK. Let me know how things are going, ok?
BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Right
BLACKWIDOW-4-U logged off.
I logged off and spent the next two hours on my computer playing Tetris and blocking out everything else.
---
I woke up twenty minutes before school started the next day. We had slipped into a daily routine of meeting for fifteen or twenty minutes before school, but I was too tired to make myself get up in time.
That, and deflecting his questions was getting old fast.
I spent the day not only making sure I was never alone with him, but making sure we were never close enough to hold a conversation. The Physics test was that day, so I couldn't skip it, but I slipped in just as the bell rang, kept my eyes on my desk the entire time. When the class ended, he got stuck talking to Friedman and Glynis about the test, so I was able to sneak out.
My luck ran out that afternoon, though it was my own fault that it did. I saw him there, talking to someone in the walkway, but I was tired and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible to find a different route. I turned slightly as I walked by, but heard him stop talking mid-sentence and knew he was following me.
Maybe he had gotten the picture. Maybe he'd rather do something other than discuss my sick mom.
"You've been avoiding me," he said as he caught up to me.
I should have gone another way.
"Not successfully, it seems," I replied.
"You said you were gonna tell me how things were going."
He wanted the play by play? "Very well…for my mother. She made it through 2 bottles of wine at dinner."
"You keeping a journal?" he asked.
"Yeah. But it's mostly free form swearing. I'm just not the journal type." That wasn't entirely true. I had written stuff down before, but it usually wound up engulfed in flames.
"You gotta keep at it, Grace. Remember the 7 C's for dealing with an alcoholic parent: You can't control it. You can't cure it. You can't feel responsible. "
"That's not a 'C.'"
"The C is in the can't. And you know you want to change your life, or else you wouldn't have gone to—"
I groaned and turned to him. "Don't pretend like you know me. You know? Just because you did some good little deed doesn't give you the right to get all up in my face."
I stalked away. Why couldn't he let it go for half a second? I went to the meeting, I was actually writing in my journal; wasn't that enough?
---
I was turning into such a girl.
It was three days since we had spent any quality time together, and frankly, it was three days too long. I was annoyed with him and didn't want to talk about my mother, but not seeing him wasn't any fun, either.
I IM'ed him before school.
BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Hello?
GravitityBoy: Hi.
BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Are we meeting this morning?
GravitityBoy: I dunno. You've seen pretty committed to this avoiding me thing.
I rolled my eyes. He could be such a drama queen.
BLACKWIDOW-4-U: Just meet me at the usual time, dude.
GravitityBoy: OK.
BLACKWIDOW-4-U has logged off.
I arrived before him and pulled out the key that I had put on some yarn the night after he gave it to me. Opening the door and placing the key around my neck, I slipped into the room and saw a new, encased display of butterflies. Some of the butterflies were common, and I could recognize them, but most of them I'd never seen. A jar beside the butterfly display contained some unidentifiable creature. Curious, I picked it up and tried to ascertain what sad little species it had been before it met its fate of eternal stasis.
I heard the door open behind me and looked over my shoulder. My skin tingled with anticipation as a smile pulled at my lips. It was about time he got there.
"I think it's really admirable that you want to talk, Grace," he told me.
"Who said anything about talkin'?" I asked and then turned and went to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, caressed the back of his head, and kissed him enthusiastically. His hands came to my waist, but instead of pulling me closer, he pushed me back and looked at me disapprovingly.
I linked my hands behind his neck and looked at him. "You'd rather talk than make out?" I grinned at him. "I think you're the one that needs the help, Girardi," I said, leaning towards him.
"No!" He pushed me further away, completely out of his arms. "I'm not gonna let you use our make out time as a cudgel to avoid this issue."
I turned and walked away from him. Couldn't he get it that I didn't want to have to talk about it all the time? Hadn't three days without so much as a few kisses been long enough? Why did he have to be a killjoy?
"See, this is why I don't talk to anyone. 'Cause now we're all about her. That stupid fifth 'C' is how the alcoholic is controlling my life. Well, I'm not gonna let her. Ok? "
"She already is! Look at us!" he yelled.
"Only 'cause you can't get off it!" My voice matched his.
He looked at me for a moment. "Ok," he said quietly. "So, let me come over to your house, and we'll hang out."
I looked at him, dumbfounded. After his last stunt of coming over, I made it clear in no uncertain terms that he wasn't to try that again. That hadn't changed. Knowing about my mother and witnessing it were two completely things.
"This conversation is over."
It was time to leave, but as I passed him, he grabbed my arm and spun me around.
"Can't you see what you're letting her do to you?!" he asked.
"It's my space!" I shouted back at him "I made the choice! Me!"
He peered down at me, right through me as though he was looking at a five year old who had lied about taking a cookie. "I think you really believe that you're strong," he said coolly, "but you're more terrified than anyone I know."
I turned as he left and slammed the door behind him. How dare he waltz in here and pretend like he knows who I am! He doesn't know anything about living with an alcoholic mother and an indifferent father. Just because he was some kind of genius doesn't mean he had all the answers, and it didn't mean he had the right to tell me what to do.
Tears of frustration welled in my eyes and two escaped and streamed down my face. I slipped off the counter where I was sitting onto the floor. Sitting with my back against the wall, I pulled my knees to my chest, buried my face in my arms, and brushed away my tears.
"I wish I'd never told him," I said out loud. Anguish pulsated through me as I realized that I was right; that getting involved—wanting, counting on someone caused more pain than being alone ever could.
But my last words rang false in my ears. I didn't want to go back to being alone. I wanted…him.
I hugged my knees tighter as I tried to talk myself out of this line of thinking, but the images kept coming. The night he walked me home from the hospital and kissed me in the middle of the street. The look of awe and amazement in his eyes after every kiss. The morning he found me near tears, followed me to an empty room, and wrapped himself protectively around me.
That was whom I needed; whom I wished was beside me as I sat alone among the dead animals.
---
I woke up about ten minute later when I heard voices outside my door. Uncoiling myself from an awkward position and stretching my stiff body, I stood and peered through the blinds into the classroom. Students filed in as the time for the first bell to ring neared and the teacher was in front of the classroom, talking to a couple of them. I slipped out the door, turned to lock it, walked to the door, and…
"Excuse me," the teacher called.
So close.
I thought about bolting, but I hesitated a moment too long, and it was evident I heard her. I slowly turned and faced the fifty-year-old woman glaring at me.
"What were you doing in the supply closet?" She asked, shortly.
"I, um….had to return something for Ms. Lischak."
She eyed me, carefully, then nodded and returned to her lesson notes. I left the room, knowing that my reputation was in serious danger. Since when did I run errands for the teacher?
---
Our eyes met as I approached the Physics classroom. He was the last person I wanted to see, but I found myself searching his face, anyway. He was talking to Friedman and Glynis in the last few minutes before the final bell rang, but stopped when he saw me. His eyes clouded over and for a second they reflected the sadness and regret I felt. But then Glynis said something to him, and he looked at her and answered, returned her smile and forgot everything else.
I passed him and the doors to the classroom, refusing to look back.
---
I dumped my bag on the floor by my front door and stomped up to my room. This day had not turned out at all like I hoped. Fighting with my boyfriend sucked. As I stood in my room and wondered what to do with my day, I looked around at my favorite posters and mementos from my childhood. Finally, my eyes fell on a purple rock.
Would it be so bad if he came over?
The thought came to me, unexpected and unwelcomed. No one, not even Adam came to my house. Well, Joan came that one time, unannounced, but I only let her in because no one was home, and I was hungry. If I had stood at the door while she prattled on, I would have never gotten anything to eat.
But inviting him over? Not in this lifetime.
Why?
OK, that was a stupid question. Sure I liked spending time with him (when he wasn't acting like a complete jerk), and he knew me better than almost anyone, maybe even better than Rove, but if he came over, he'd see—he'd know…
Know you.
The air rushed out of me.
I sat on my bed and considered that. I've never let anyone in as much as I let him in, but could I keep going? Was I ready to take this last step and let him in all the way?
I spent a few minutes straightening my room and then headed back to school.
---
It was lunch period, and I looked for him in the cafeteria, but didn't see him with Joan or Rove or the Freak duo. As predicted, I found him in the library, hunched over books. Someone was sitting next to him, so approaching him was out of the question. Instead, I squatted on the floor, took out my notebook, and dug around in my bag for a writing utensil. Finally, my hand struck a pen and I grabbed it to write my note.
Nothing came out of the pen.
A kid walked by just then. He looked like a freshman.
"Hey," I whispered. "Got a pen?"
He looked down at me. "Uhh," he pulled a Sharpie from his backpack.
"Thanks," I said, grabbing it and scrawling my note. I stood and crumpled the note, and noticed the kid staring at me. "Scram!" I said, then watched with amusement as his eyes widened and he turned around and scurried away.
I turned back to my task at hand, looked to make sure no one was looking, and then chucked the note at him. It hit him squarely in the back, and he turned and looked at me. I pointed at the note and once I saw him lean down and grab it, I left.
As I walked out of the library, I looked down and noticed the Sharpie in my hand.
---
I met him on the stairs outside the school. We began walking in a silence that was thick and awkward.
"So," he began after he cleared his throat, "what's this about Judith and Joan getting into a fight?"
"Yeah." I laughed, remembering the absurd incident. "Your sister got it into her head that Judith was after Rove. I thought crazy camp was supposed to make her, you know, less crazy. Rove would never leave her. He is as stupid about her as--"
"I am about you?" he finished.
I looked over and saw him looking down and grinning at me. I looked away to hide my smile, and after a minute he spoke. "Your mom…"
I stopped and faced him. "Look, dude," I said, pointing a finger at him, "this invitation is contingent on us not discussing that."
"Grace, you can't keep avoiding this."
"I'm not Girardi, I just don't want to discuss it all the time." I fought to control my temper. I really didn't want to fight about this again.
"You avoid it all the time," he asserted.
"And you bring it up all the time."
We stood in the middle of the empty sidewalk, staring at one another. I felt stuck. Trapped. Like we would forevermore have this same conversation, and nothing I did could change that. Almost, I told him to go home, to leave me alone and never bring it up again, but that would have destroyed…everything.
"I went to the meeting, I'm writing in my journal, what more do you want from me?" I asked, deflated.
He swallowed, and then broke my gaze. "I want you to stop hurting," he said, softly.
The irritation and frustration I had been feeling all day fled as I felt his concern wash over me. I shook my head and sighed. "It's not that easy, dude. There's no magic formula."
"I know. I know that something like this takes time, and that it won't go away….maybe ever. But…I want to help…I—"
"You can." I took a step towards him. "You do. But…" I longed to kiss him, to feel his arms around me, but the sidewalk was far too public. "Even when we don't discuss it….when we…do other things…"
He slowly grinned. "Well, anything I can do…" he murmured, raising an eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes and began walking. "Come on geek."
We walked the rest of the way in silence. I don't think either of us could get there fast enough.
---
I opened the door to my room, and watched nervously as he took a couple steps inside and looked around. I hadn't had anyone in my room since Becky spent the night. Even my parents rarely ventured inside my room, letting me have one place in the house where I didn't have to deal with their crap.
"Speak, creep." I told him.
"I like it," he said. "It's, uh... it's a little... tidier than I thought it'd be. "
"I'm not tidy. I just..." wanted to make a good impression? "thought you should be able to walk in here, that's all. "
"That's nice. Thanks."
"Nice. Tidy. Do you have a death wish?" I took a step closer to him, but something caught his attention, and he moved away.
"Oh, dude! Splash." He picked up the stuffed whale I had on a shelf. "The original beanie baby."
I took it from him, embarrassed that he caught sight of one of my childhood toys. "It was the first inflationary bubble of our lifetime." I set it on my desk and walked to the other side of my bed. "My mom stood in line at 5:00 in the morning to get the second run. It opened my eyes to the dangers of capitalism. "
"I have pinchers," he told me.
I looked at him "The lobster?"
I couldn't believe I admitted to knowing the identity of a Beanie Baby, but he didn't even raise an eyebrow.
"Originally released under the name 'Punchers.' Retired in 1987, which briefly inflated the price to over $5,000. A classic lesson that any economic system is subject to the whims of human emotion."
"And easily exploited by the rapacious elite," I added.
"The cool calculation of science meets the heated imprecision of economic theory," he surmised.
I smiled at him. We were both sitting on my bed now, and as we leaned towards one another, my heart quickened expectantly.
Just as my lips touched his, I heard a noise downstairs and pulled away.
A door closed. "Grace! I'm home!" my mom called.
I had no idea what to do. She wasn't supposed to be home for a couple more hours, and I wasn't anywhere near ready to have my mother and boyfriend meet. I tried to figure out my options, but he spoke first.
"I'll sneak out the window." He got up and started for the window.
We just got there. We hadn't had any time together in days, and I…
"No." I said, standing and intercepting him. I reached out to him. "Stay."
We looked at each other for a few seconds before I leaned forward and gently kissed him.
I want you here with me.
I stayed near him after the kiss broke, feeling the warmth of his breath, smelling his essence, and taking in the contours of his features.
Realization washed over me. I loved him.
I loved Luke Girardi. The young man standing in front of me, who, despite everything I put him through, stayed. Trembling, I ran my hands up his chest and to the back of his neck, pulled him closer, and kissed him, hoping to convey everything I was feeling. Everything I could never say out loud. He wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close to him, and held me tightly. I was sure my knees would have buckled if he hadn't been supporting my weight. His lips moved gently against mine, like warm, soft, caresses of velvet.
Luke pulled away and rested his head against mine. "You're mom will be coming up," he whispered.
"No," I said, breathlessly, "She heads straight for the liquor cabinet."
He pulled back a little, startled. "Grace…"
"Shh." I pulled him nearer, not ready to break our contact, still needing him close to me. "Don't." I looked away, and then back into his eyes. I could get lost in those. "I'll be fine."
He ran his hands along my sides. "Should we go downstairs?" He smiled, but I stiffened and looked away. Despite my revelation, despite how good it felt to have him in my home, I really wasn't ready for that.
He must have sense my mood because he gave me a little squeeze. "You know what," he said, kissing me lightly, "I really need to get going."
I nodded and smiled, relieved that he left me off the hook. "But not through the window, dude. Out the front door."
---
My mother saw Luke leave. I closed the door and turned to see her with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other.
"Who was that, Grace?"
"No one, mom. I have homework," I said as I bounded upstairs.
My dad happened to pick tonight to be home in time for dinner, which meant "family bonding time," aka, my mother gets wasted while my dad pretends it isn't happening and I am forced to witness their charade. Some nights, if I eat quickly and say as little as possible, I can get through the meal pretty much unnoticed. Unfortunately, my mother was almost done with her bottle of wine, but still sober enough to remember that afternoon.
"Guess what," she asked my father halfway through the meal. "Gracie has a beau."
My fork clattered to my plate. "Beau? Mom, please. This isn't a Jane Austen novel."
My dad looked up from his plate and raised an eyebrow at me.
"Well, he was over this afternoon," my mother said conspiratorially, like the gossips at school.
"Who is this boy, Grace?" my dad asked.
I sighed and pushed my vegetables around on my plate. "Luke," I muttered.
"Girardi? The boy you did the science fair with last year?"
"Yeah," I replied.
He furrowed his brow. "So, are you dating him?"
I rolled my eyes. "Kind of."
He blinked at me. "How long?"
"A while." I so didn't want to talk about this. I picked up my plate and took it to the sink. "I have more homework," I said, escaping the prying eyes of my wardens.
As I lay in bed that night with the covers around me, I tried to settle my jumpy, fluttery stomach. The third degree from my parents was brutal, but it was the day's realization that kept my stomach in turmoil. The idea sat strangely on my mind, yet I knew that it was true.
Finally, as my eyelids grew heavy, I entered into the place where consciousness and slumber meet, and there, I found the peace and contentment
I, despite my best efforts, had fallen in love.