I do not own anything, just my ideas.
Chapter 54
TRIS
Once I see the lights of Tobias' car leave my sight, I go to the kitchen and find Tori at the counter deep in conversation on the phone. It is late, but that doesn't seem to faze her.
"Are you sure? Because I don't know…" she says in a serious tone. Then she giggles. "You're right. I'm the one who is nervous. She has always been introverted, especially when it comes to new people."
She looks up and sees me, and her smile deepens as if sharing a private choke with herself.
"We'll see you next week. Yes, yes. Have a good trip."
She takes the phone away from her ear and bites her lip.
"Bob?" I ask with raised eye brows.
"Yes. He is going out of the town next week for work… and then we are having dinner together. The three of us."
"Three of us? I am going to meet him?"
"You don't have to if you don't want to," she sighs. "But I really like him, Tris. A lot. And you are so important to me. I want nothing more than…"
"I get it. You do not have to worry," I tell her. "So, what does he do?"
"He is a doctor. Psychiatrist."
Instantly, my mood sinks. I don't have anything against doctors or psychology, but therapy was never a fun thing I had to do. In fact, I haven't been to a session since before New York, as if it really did any help.
"Dinner," I say. "I'll make it."
"Thank you, Tris," she walks over to me and kisses me on the cheek. While meeting new people has never been my favorite thing in the world, just the look on Tori's face has me make an exception. Hearing her talk on the phone to him and talk about him to me, fills me with a similar feeling when I think about Tobias.
I run up to the study. It is a very late hour, almost too late, but I could not fall asleep if I tried. A buzzing energy runs through me. I would call it happy, but something pulls me back.
I trace my fingers over my new necklace and smile. I should be happy, no doubt to that. But I don't know. Every once in a while, I catch myself zone out into a place where it is not exactly peaceful.
It does not stop me from plunging into my sketchbook. It is an old habit that will not die out anytime soon. A handful of colored pencils at my side and I begin to scribble on the paper. I mix orange with red and yellow into a burning inferno. It is hard to get a sunset just right, because each one can be so different, and every second as the sun gets closer to the horizon, the colors change. I place the sun above a horizon made completely of water.
I relish in the warm feeling I get when I find the right mixture of orange for the sky, and my nerves calms at the bending blue waves I create. If I close my eyes, I swear I can practically hear them. I complete my work of art in mere minutes, but I hold back. Something deep down holds me back.
I look up at the wall that is decorated with many of my art pieces. Some are simple and some are extravagant. Some are light and full of life while others hold painful undertones from darker times. I remember my time in New York. I remember noticing the fact that I have always had trouble really finishing the pieces of art I started.
Those weeks in a city I once called home, and my months being here in my new home, have changed me. That change, well, I have never really been good about thinking deeply about myself. (An instinct stomped out of me.) And even so, I do not like thinking about New York all that much. At least, not about David. It makes me feel uneasy. At the thought, my mostly healed shoulder begins to ache.
Pushing my thoughts aside, I stand and stride to the wall. I close my eyes and rub my hand along the different papers and canvases. I stop at a random one and pull it off the wall. I picture of a fire pit.
I make myself comfortable at my desk, and I finish the drawing.
Tobias and I walk together on a beach. We are on the edge of the water, at the place where the wave hit and retreat. Tobias lets me stand on the side closest to the water, but I think it has more to do with the fact that every time a wave comes, I am pushed closer to him. He's a sneaky guy, but I allow the game because I do not mind.
"Did I ever tell you about the time my mother and I snuck away from my father?" He asks me.
For some reason, I know I have heard this story, but the memory feels far away from me. But I nod my head and ask him about it.
"Well, we were at this stupid afternoon party my father had been invited to. Neither of us wanted to be there. I was seven, maybe. Well my mother and I made a plan for me to act sick and leave, that way my father would not punish us for just leaving. I made some fake vomit, and let's just say, my father was a little too pleased to see us leave. He was angry, but not enough to act on it at the time."
"Where did you and your mom go?"
"We went to an art show. My mother always had an eye for the odd things. We circled the tents over and over and finally landed on one stand with the most beautiful figurines. All glass and bendable color. She picked me a really cool one with falling blue water," he stops. "I still have it."
I vaguely remember a glass statue that sits in his room.
"It reminds me of her. It reminds me of a time we acted together against Marcus. It is one of the best days I can remember with her."
I know the feeling. When you lose someone, they never truly leave you; at least, only the good parts don't leave. Dead people can be our heroes because they can never disappoint us in the future. They only improve over time, as we forget more and more about them. The reality is hard to swallow, but that does not make it any less true.
We keep walking, and when I glance to the sky, I see there is only the slightest amount of sky that separates the sky from the water. While looking, Tobias runs into the water and throws a handful my way.
I shriek and am about to run after him when something happens so cruel, so unusual, it can't be real. It isn't real. But it feels too true.
The second the sun touched the water in the distance, it set the ocean aflame. I look at Tobias who stands a few feet away from me in the burning water and—
I wake to salty water running from my eyes and down my back and forehead. Even though it was a dream, I still feel the burn of the fire.
I am exhausted but I cannot fall asleep, especially with the thought of fires and burning taking place in my head. I know I need to sleep, but it is so dark in my room and fire burns brighter in the darkness. I guess there are two types of tired: one is a dire need of sleep and another is a dire need of peace.
My mind spins, a pressure builds. And if it weren't for the many nights of my screams from nightmares waking Tori, I would go to her. But she has spent too many late hours helping me.
I would call Tobias—part of me should call him—but I find myself going to the contact that belongs to Christina. My biggest fear is that explaining what happened to Tobias would cause me to break down, even though I am fine. Or worse, he would sneak over here and risk Marcus catching him.
The phone rings twice before she picks up. "You realize I just saw you. And it is the middle of the night."
"I know, I just…"
"Oh gosh," she says as I hear movement on her side on the line. "Let me grab a drink with caffeine or something."
"It's okay. I don't want to bother you. I'll call tomorrow."
"Too late. Now tell Momma Tina what is bothering you." I hear a can of soda open.
"I feel fine." Christina huffs on the other end. "But… Something, I can't quite put my finger on it, is wrong."
The real issue isn't the nagging feeling, or the hole inside me. It is the fear of it. Not knowing. I know I called Christina, but I don't think she understands how stressful it is to explain what is going on in my head when I don't understand it myself. Maybe she can help me figure it out.
"You nervous about school starting soon?"
"No, that's not it."
"Maybe…"
"Maybe what?" Could she understand something that I don't understand myself?
"Forget it."
"No, tell me," I plea.
There is a pause. Finally, she says, "You want to know why I like you so much?"
"What?"
"You are honest. Not the kind of honesty that comes when you tell the truth all the time—we all know that is a lie. But you know the person you are. You're real. You are an unmade bed. And I love unmade beds," Christina tells me.
I laugh. "Is this because you just don't want to make your bed, even when your mom nags?"
"No. Yes. Not the point. And there is more. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies unexpectedly. I love when people close their eyes and drift away into a daydream. I fall in love with humans and their honest moments all the time. The person you are, the person you have become over the last year, that person is real."
I guess I understand where Christina is coming from. Too much of the time, people wear a mask. Maybe when people change, it isn't the fact that something inside them shifted, but a mask on the outside fell off.
She continues, "I fall in love with breakdowns and un-kept hair and minds in the clouds. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words. It is pure, but… sometimes reality isn't always that great. So people lie, to everyone, even themselves. Especially themselves… I think there is something inside you that you are trying to not face."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you have faced a lot lately. You never talk about it, but you aren't the kind of person who wants to burden others with your own. But I'm your friend, and by choosing you, I choose all of you. Even the burdens. So why don't we try this again. Talk to me."
Burdens? I admit, the past few months have not been exactly peaceful, and I don't notice that I keep it to myself. With as many friends with such bright personalities, it is not hard to sit back and laugh. I can understand how some people may think I am unhappy. I don't consider myself unhappy. I just appreciate silence in a world that never stops talking—a world that seems to constantly hold people who speak too loudly for their own gratification.
Finally, I speak. "Maybe you can explain this to me because I do not understand. I should feel satisfied. I stood up to Peter; I sent him to jail. I have found a way to forgive my father and brother, at least, the closest thing to it. I survived being a hostage in my own school. I found my mother's killer and he is facing the consequences of his actions. Overall, it's all been hard but it has ended good and well."
"Have you really thought about what happened to get to that good ending?"
"Why should I? It doesn't matter."
"It does," she tells me. "The truth only means something when it is hard to admit."
"It… It doesn't matter," I say again, trying to make the statement feel real. Trying to convince myself with her seeds of doubt planted.
"I want you to do something," she says. "Think back to the trial. What is the worst thing that happened from it? When you think back to that span of time—you know, besides not seeing my smiling face every day—what do want to forget the most."
"When I was hit by the car."
"Exactly. I know you were focused on the trial, and after you had your father and your brother and you were so relieved about the verdict. But you pushed the hit and run deep inside you because you didn't want to think about it. And I know this is hard for you to talk about, and I don't want you to feel alone so… I'll tell you something that I am afraid of."
"You?"
"Yes, believe it or not all this has some fears, just like you. Well, not exactly like you, but I have things that freak me out, too. And it's stupid, so don't laugh… Alright. I am terrified of moths. One time when my family went camping, a swarm of them swarmed me and I have never been camping since."
I can't help but laugh. It is stupid, but I appreciate the thought behind it.
"Thanks, Christina."
"I know your first instinct is to bottle up whatever is inside you and stomp it deep inside, but that is wrong. In order to move on, you have to recognize what you are leaving behind."
The truth is, every time I cross the street, there is something dark in the back of my mind that tells me I am going to get hit again. And guns unnerve me. The look, the feel, the sound. I can manage it, but everyone once in a while I feel a pull. And I would tell her these things, but as I play them over in my head, I don't completely believe it all.
"It's not always easy to move forward, but the pain of letting go is less than the pain of holding on."
"For too long, I was afraid. I don't want to feel like that again. And I shouldn't have to."
"I know, I know."
"Do you think it is possible for someone like me to feel free of my past? Of the things that have happened to me?"
"Yes. You want to know why? Because just like your scar—your healed wound—you will heal. The mark won't go away, because it is a part of you. I think you have accepted it, but you are still struggling to embrace it."
I don't realize I am crying, but I am. Not the kind of tears that are accompanied by sobs, but the kind that lightly stream and are because of a happy thought. There is no greater feeling than knowing there is someone out there that not only cares about you, but believes in you.
"Thank you, Christina. This helps."
"Are you crying?"
"Yes," I laugh. "How could you tell?"
"I just can. But lucky for you, I know those aren't the kind of tears that will cause me to drive over to your place."
"Lucky me," I laugh. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow, babe. Love you."
"I love you, too."
I guess it is a long tradition to go out of the city to a local lake and have an end of summer party. I did not participate last year for reasons that seem distant to me, but eerily familiar. We loaded two cars early this morning and drove out. We had a fun picnic and play boys vs. girls kickball and volleyball in the sand and field.
During kick ball, I had one solid at bat, and I would have gotten a double, maybe a triple, if Tobias wasn't playing first base. As I rounded the base, he wrapped both arm around me and pulled me into him.
"Let me go!" I half-screamed, half-giggled. If I wasn't so mad at him for stopping me, I would have noticed his strong muscles from his lack of shirt. But I had noticed he didn't mind my see-through cover-up.
We all had a large picnic, and afterwards, everyone wanted to swim in the lake. Along the deeper parts along the side, there is a rock ledge that is used for jumping, or so my friends tell me.
"Let's go jump in!" Uriah yells.
I hesitate. My memory grips and pulls me back to a darker time. A desperate time. I have jumped off of a high ledge into water that was more dangerous than what lays ahead of me, but still.
"I'm not jumping," I tell Tobias under my breath when he walks up next to me. I know his fear of heights; I know he doesn't want to jump off the ledge, either.
He turns to look me in the eye. "You okay?"
Christina has been giving me looks all day, and she even made my favorite muffins as a snack for the drive down. I still haven't told him about my dream that almost turned into a nightmare. But he does know about my little jump with death.
"I'll be fine," I say, swallowing a lump then smile. "Let's swim."
We walk into the water. It is cold, but the temperature is refreshing from the earlier activities. I watch as Uriah is the first to jump off the ledge. He screams the whole way down, but manages to flip once and land in a cannon ball. We all clap, hoot, and holler. Marlene goes next, then Christina. When she lands in the water, she swims to where Tobias and I am.
"That was insane!" She says. "Are you sure you don't want to do it?"
I am about to blurt out no when the word catches in my throat. To be honest, seeing the others go and there screams being formed from joy instead of terror, I can't help but think about the idea of jumping off the ledge with them.
"I don't know…"
"Aren't you curious? That's what got me up there," her voices lowers. "If it's something I said the other night—"
"No. What you said is trying to convince me to do it."
If I want to move on, I need to face this fear just like the others. If it is hard to face, I need to face it and not bury it just because it is easier. And that should start now.
"You're going to jump?" Tobias says.
"I think I am," I say. "I am."
Christina claps next to me and announces it to the others. They all yell for me and I follow Christina to the ledge. We walk together, and once we hit the top, she takes a running start and jumps.
I walk to the very edge and stop. I look out over the lake and beyond to all the beautiful things I couldn't really see down below. I lock eyes with Tobias and then straight to the sky so all I can see is the lightest shade of blue.
I allow myself to strip away the hurt, the anger, and the selfless shield I once hid behind. I lost myself, and even now I am still looking for pieces that were once there and that have never been discovered.
I open my whole being to the scars, visible and invisible, to be seen. More to myself. Yes, I have faced fears and yes I have fallen victim to them. I have been in pain and the only way to help myself fully heal from that pain is to accept it. It is not like I actively look for ways to get hurt, but maybe a part of me likes the pain. Maybe a part of me is wired that way. Because without it, I don't know, I just would not feel real.
I can say that I have moved on and forgiven and let go as many times as I can, but at what point do the statements become true?
For as long as I can remember, there has been a huge gaping hole that I have had to learn to live around. I never knew an emptiness could feel so heavy. But the weight is always different. It is hard because some days I feel everything at once and other days I feel nothing at all. And I don't know what is worse: drowning beneath the waves or dying of thirst.
Maybe that is what is holding me back, the always existing grief that hangs with all those memories. Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. And I have gotten used to the weigh, how it holds me in place. But it prevents me from going anywhere.
Some people, they can just move on; mourn and cry and be done with it. Or at least seem to be. But for me, I am coming to realize that I do not want to fix it, to forget. I am not something that can simply be fixed, even if I wanted it to be that way. I am just a person that had something happen. Sure, there are holes inside me that never seem to fill. But like any hole—whether, it is from my mom or Peter or anyone else that has come and gone, good or bad—I find ways to work around it. Respecting and remembering and moving on all at the same time. That is how the emptiness gets lighter. That's how the statements become true.
Being brave is more than being strong or knowing what is right. It is not living without fear. It is living in spite of fear. The freedom in fear.
And that is what anyone ever wants: freedom.
I look down at my toes that are nearly on the very edge of the ledge, the water moving beneath me. Closing my eyes, I bend my knees.
And I jump.
End of Part III
Author's Note
End of part three! We are three-quarters of the way through this story (more or less). I think I am going to take a little of a break, due to the fact that school is starting up and I am feeling a little discouraged over the lack of response to the last two chapters. (Good? Bad? I don't know.) This "break thing" may change, but I want to throw it out there just to be safe. And because I am planning this little break, I am going to put some sneak peeks that should be in the next Part. I hope to see you all soon!
Also, because each Part has a quote and a theme, I have already put some thought to the next one. But I am open to suggestions. There is room to move some things around, so let me know if there is something you all want to see. Please review!
Be brave, everyone!
QUOTES
1). Dead, but not allowed to die. Alive, but as good as dead. –Mockingjay, book
2). [She] is not beautiful for something temporary as her looks. She is beautiful deep down to her soul. –F. Scott Fitzgerald, person
3). So [we] just use the future to escape the present. –Looking For Alaska, book
4). Since the first time I saw her, I have belonged to her completely. –City of Glass, book
5). We don't touch each other carelessly. Every point of contact between us feels important—a rush of energy and relief. –Allegiant, book
Congratulations to: Guest
There are five (book, book, person, television show, book) quotes in this chapter.
PART IV SNEAK PEEK
You are not only a physical body, you have a soul, too. And just like your body, your soul gets sick. If you break a bone, you don't ignore it because there is no reason for it to be broken. You seek help. It is the same thing when your soul gets sad. Don't apologize for darkness crawling into your heart.
The shadows shape into a man, and he charges toward me… And I realize in this moment, I am not brave. I am not strong. I am afraid.
The ball flies through the air and time stands still. And in this moment, I realize that I could live with whatever outcome happens. For the past year, I have agonized about winning this game and proving myself. But I have come to understand that it isn't just a game.
But damn did it feel good to let my throat burn instead of my heart.
Some days will always be harder than others. Some are for living and others are for getting through.
