XV. Face It
"Richard...let me talk to you for a minute."
10 October 2004 (evening)
There's a girl asleep in my bed: a sweet, beautiful little angel. Seeing her here, safe and warm indoors, is the most soothing thing in the world right now. It's enough to help me concentrate on my homework from therapy. Yes: I have to do therapy work as well as school work now. The sessions will come to an end soon, so I don't mind doing it: it's a reminder of how close I am to finishing therapy. It's not that I hate attending a fifty-five-minute session, but they weren't how I'd thought they'd be: so much work is expected from the patient as well as the psychiatrist, which has both its pros and cons.
Vivian slept through the arrival of the firemen, and the ambulance is downstairs along with her father. Both men came upstairs to check on her, through which she was half asleep. The men politely asked me to leave the room while they looked over her minor injuries. It turns out she has a concussion. Both Vivian's father and my mother were all over her making sure she received the treatment and rest she needed. I suggested that she stay in my bed, and that I would sleep in the guest room, if it came to the point where she had to stay over night to get the rest she needs, the rest that she deserves.
While all of that occurred, my father was the one who made efficient use of his time. He plans meticulously to have alone time with me: our father-and-son "bonding" moments, if you will. I know him: he's hardly in town, and when he does come home, he dedicates at least one moment of time for the two of us. I hate, hate HATE these!
Vivian's P.O.V. (The next day)
"You guys totally have to make it official!" Manny rushes towards me, our faces only an inch or two a part. "He's in love with you, Vivian! Don't disappoint him: he let you stay in his house, Vivian, in his bed!"
"And get this, Manny: he didn't do anything else!" Queenie adds. "They just cuddled to keep each other company!"
"WHAT?" Manny causes all of the girls in the gym locker room to turn their heads our way. "He sounds so dreamy!"
I made the mistake of telling Queenie of spending the night at Rick's house and an even bigger mistake of letting her tell Manny. She left his name anonymous for safety and privacy, that for which I'm grateful. Heaven forbid the entire school find out about Rick and another girl together! Although I've never heard Manny say anything hateful or belittling about Rick, I know she's the type to spread news like wildfire.
"You never know with Manny." Queenie whispered to me before our conversation. "I heard that she can't keep her mouth shut if you paid her. If she knows that he's...", she looked around the room to make sure no one heard, "...Rick, then they'd bother you."
My heart sinks in remorse for not declaring my interest in Rick publicly. After knowing him for a month, I've developed a small crush on him. No, that's a lie: I have a HUGE crush on Rick. When I look at him and his facial expressions, they always reveal the utmost sincerity, and the fact that he's grown from the evil, abusive guy he was last year makes him all the more admirable to me. To top it all, he endures the daily routine of coming to school and suffering from blows by his classmates. I'm really all he has a side from Toby. I think. He deserves to have someone care for him, to show that he doesn't have to pay for what he did to Terri for the rest of his life. Now there's no excuse for Rick's poor treatment. He's no longer holding back his anger and learning how to kindle it, but he's now a victim, a target for bullying, which I find the most ironic thing considering how he was just earlier this year.
The ambiguity comes in about whether he likes me in that way. I know he's grateful for me, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he finds me attractive. I definitely don't want him to think that he has to possess feelings for me because I'm the only girl who talks to him. Am I even ready to be in a relationship, something I've never had before?
On second thought...dating Rick could be the very solution to cure everyone's shady outlook on his character. After all, the reason for the hostility he receives is because they think he's a danger to girls, the way he was a danger to Terri. And Ivory.
Rick and Ivory? I shudder at the thought of them kissing each other. Maybe it's because we're no longer friends, but I see her as this girl who would do anything to get her way, anything to get me to believe that Rick is a horrible person who doesn't deserve another girlfriend all because he didn't treat her right in the past.
She's still scarred from her experience. Poor Ivory.
Rick's P.O.V. (Previous Night)
"Richard." Father puts his hand on my shoulder. "Let me talk to you for a minute." He calls me 'Richard' though he knows I prefer Rick. I bite my tongue. What's the use of correcting him? It'll only make matters worse than what they're already going to be.
We walk into the bathroom downstairs, the one with the dark red walls against the white tile floor. Mother picked out the off-white shower curtain splotched with giant red roses to enhance the red-and-white theme.
"Close the door behind you." He orders.
I do so, my hands shaking in the process. I try to break the ice; imagine trying to kill a tense silence between you and your own father. I can only see him frequently, thanks to his job, and while I should be over the moon to see him like any normal kid would, I'm anything but.
"Tell me what really happened to that girl, Richard." He's cool and aloof, yet he has the art of making a simple statement sound intimidating. "Did she really fall down into that well? The well that's been blocked off by a sign that says 'Danger: do not enter'?"
"She did, father." I respond firmly. "The wind blew the sign out of the ground, and I slipped on it on my way back home."
"Why were you taking that way to begin with? Out in the lightning and running through trees? What's gotten into your head, thinking that was a safe way to go in the first place?"
"I was avoiding trouble." I reply, matching his aloof tone of voice.
"You're fortunate enough that I have the money to cover the medical expenses for Vivian's father, and even more fortunate that Vivian just had a concussion. Dammit, boy, you think I'm made of money, don't you? Paying for surgeries for a comatose girlfriend and for all of those therapy sessions. They add up, Richard. I have to show these people that you come from generous folk, in spite of your poor choices that reflect on me and your mother. Next time something like this happens, another 'accident'-", he couldn't say this more sarcastically, "-I start taking money from your savings account. Is that clear?" He stares at me with a frown.
I stand up straight. "Yes. Yes, sir."
Father turns his back on me and rinses his face off in the sink, occasionally looking at me through the mirror. I stare back, this time not looking away from his gaze.
It took much work in the past to master this.
Vivian's P.O.V. (The Next Day)
"So...have you decided on a theme for the quiz show?" Queenie asks me as we sit on the benches in the locker room.
"Oh!" I widen my eyes. I completely forgot about that! "No, unfortunately, I didn't."
"Yeah that's right: you couldn't have with all that was happening to you. Seems you had quite the night last night." Queenie sighs. "You scared me to death, Vivian. Again!" She says "again" literally like "a gain". "How do you get yourself in trouble twice in less than a week's worth of time?"
I smile nervously. "I don't know." I stuff my gym clothes into my bag. "Caring too much?"
"More like caring too little." Queenie says. "I know about that well that you fell into. There was supposed to be a sign out in front of it that said 'danger: don't enter', or something like that."
"Yeah. Supposed to. The wind blew it away." I say. "Rick slipped on it on the way back, where we were a few feet away from it."
"Listen, Vivian..." Queenie stares at me with her light brown eyes. I always thought her eyes were pretty, especially when she's emotional: you can see them sparkling.
Her seriousness catches me by surprise, and I take back my seat next to her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just...I've been thinking about you and Rick a lot, and...I think you would really be good for him, and he for you." Queenie stares at me.
My heart freezes in my chest. She's been thinking about this too. "What makes you so certain?"
"Well, you're the bravest of anyone at Degrassi for standing up for him. Rick needs someone like you as a backbone. And as for you, sister," she flicks my ponytail, "you've been grieving for far too long. I know he doesn't replace the love of your mother, god I hope not," she chuckles, "but it's about time a boy makes you happy and takes your center focus away from your mom."
Queenie smiles warmly. "I've seen your face light up a MILLION times at just the mention of Rick. He knows how to treat you, which is the weirdest thing considering how he was just last year. I would have never recommended someone like him to a good girl like you, but...now it's in his demeanor that he's a different guy, and not one claiming to be different just to manipulate girls into his...er, possessive trap?" She rolls her eyes at the choice of words. "You get what I'm saying! Go be with him."
I stare at my best friend, who, like Rick, I've only known for a month or so, but it feels like I've had her since kindergarten. She's still staring at me with a heartfelt, brown gaze. I don't like it: I'm not used to it: she's usually energetic and easygoing, not...emotional. "You, you think he would...?"
"Oh, listen to how modest you sound!" Queenie exclaims. "Of course he would! He already adores you! He just doesn't know it yet because he's a boy. If he comforts you while you sleep, why the hell wouldn't he?"
"Because I'm not a blonde, white girl!" I say in a sharp whisper. Immediately I cover my mouth. It's not everyday I would think the lamest of a person, but if there's one flaw I can't shake of Rick's, it's neither his past or his eminent quirkiness. It's the list he composed of his top twenty crushes, and how I don't even qualify for his top three. This I tell to Queenie, whispering so none of the girls in the locker room will hear.
"I thought he was better than that, Queenie." I say. "I thought he had grown significantly during the month's following Terri's incident, but still he has—"
"Vivian, shut up." Her tone: it's so calm and calculated it's like she's possessed.
"What?" I squint at her in disbelief.
"You heard me." She replies with only a little more agitation in her voice. "What's wrong with you? Are you that insecure about yourself that you're using his list as an excuse not to go out with him? He's a fucking teenager, Vivian, and a teenage boy at that!" Now Queenie is frustrated. "Haven't you got a mental list of any guy crushes you have, if not written down? What's even worse is that you implied that your friend is prejudice!" She raises her voice.
The bell rings, releasing the girls from class.
"I didn't mean to—"
"Yes you did." Queenie persists. "But that's okay. I see now that you're scared to have something good happen to you, even though it would be so much better than the nightmares you've been having about your mom." She raises her voice as girls move past us out of the room, chatter filling the space. "But remember this: no one is perfect, Vivian. Stop putting Rick up on a pedestal. Hasn't he gone through enough thanks to our stupid classmates? Don't you trust my word on Rick, especially since I've known him before?"
"Queenie, why are you so obsessed over what's best for me?" I blurt out. "I can decide what's best for myself without your guidance!"
"So I see." She replies sarcastically.
"Queenie, here's my advice for you. Are you ready? Get a boyfriend so your nose isn't in my business!" I shout.
Queenie's eyes widen, and so do mine. I can't believe I said that. I open my mouth to speak, but Queenie beats me. "Fine." She glares at me. "Apparently you have everything together. Let's see how far you'll go. Pardon me for being such a 'bad,' caring person."
She grabs her gym bag and storms out of the locker room, leaving me alone. It's our fist fight ever.
Can't we call it a day?
Rick's P.O.V. (Previous Night)
"What do you mean, Richard," Father turns to face me again, "when you say you were avoiding trouble, and how is it that Vivian tagged along with you on this little venture of yours?"
He's always one to sniff out the truth. I could lie to anyone else, everyone else, but him. He's a human lie detector.
I feel sweat forming under my armpits. "W-well," I hate it when I stammer, "I ran across a few kids at school who I don't get along with, and Vivian isn't fond of them either. I was trying to avoid them—"
"As in run away from them in order for them to not see you?" Father grins sinisterly, then laughs out loud. "I've raised a great child here. My courageous son." He covers his face with his hand, muffling his malicious laughter. "So where does the girl fit into the equation?"
I can feel my face turning red. "Vivian," I emphasize her name, "wanted to keep me company. I tried to dissuade her, but she wouldn't let up. She wanted to come with me."
"Are you blaming the girls again for your poor actions?" Father scoffs. "Could this look any better for you, Richard? You think I forgot about what happened to the Terri girl you were dating?"
"You're being unfair." I say, and he glares at me. I don't care anyone. I have to continue. "Vivian voluntarily came with me in an attempt to keep me dry out in the rain. We took the shortcut back to the house, I slipped on the warning sign knocked lose by the wind, and Vivian fell into the well being curious about the location. Ask her: she'll give you the exact same story."
"Is that so?" Father asks.
"It is."
He stares at me. "Alright. I believe you however ridiculous the story sounds, but then again, it is you we're talking about, so anything goes." Father moves towards me. "I will ask Vivian, but first you and I have some bonding time to make up for."
My heart pounds in my chest. "Father, that's quite alright." I turn for the door. "I think I'm going to go back to my homework now."
I barely get the door open when father rushes in front of me and slams it. "I insist, my son."
"Dad, please." I call him dad impulsively when I'm desperate, hoping to see an actual father within him that he once was before I grew up. Before he introduced me to tough love. "I have to do my homework."
"Oh you'll have plenty of time. This won't take long. I have better things to do as well, but you have to learn, Richard. Now," his voice hardens for the first time during our conversation, "Take off your shirt." I watch his hands fiddle with his belt on his pants.
"Father, I swear: everything that happened today was an accident. Y-you don't need to do this."
"I'm the one who determines who needs to do what around here." He raises his voice, "and I asked you to do something. Do you really want to make your life even more miserable than what it already is?"
I stare at him, sweat falling down my face.
"I'll ask you again: Take. Your. Shirt. Off. NOW."
Casually I remove my gray, plaid button-down and pause for a millisecond, staring at my father. He looks at me with the coldest glare, his face as stiff as a gargoyle's. "We've been through this before. Turn around." He says tartly.
I obey and slowly expose my bare back to him. As I hear him unstrap his belt, as goosebumps cover my entire back, I use my twisted ways of calming myself down.
Bite your bottom lip to keep from impulsively crying out.
Think of all of the times your back has been smashed into a locker—this is only a little bit worse.
Close your eyes.
Do not cry.
Think of something pleasant.
My last mental advice actually works. A pleasant face enters my mind. Imagining her smile is enough to make me feel as if I'm numb.
Numb when I hear the belt slice through the air. And crash down on my back.
An infinity amount of times.