Collide
Written by Tears of Mercury
Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. If I did, they wouldn't have assassinated Spaige AND Sparcy.
There are two things that I have learned in the last thirty-five minutes: one, even though three-year-olds are perfectly capable of walking on their own two feet, they need to be carried because when left to their own devices, they'll leave a wake of destruction in their path. Second, if you're going to blow off your summer reading until eight in the morning on the first day of school so that you can stare into space listlessly for hours on end all summer long, you should make sure that your mom isn't going to wake up at one in the morning the night before school starts to begin an all-night barf fest. And last but not least, Rice Krispies and fruit punch in the same bowl is not a good combination.
"Jack, can you please stop screaming? Letting up on the kicking wouldn't hurt, either," I plead, past a strict and ineffective reproof by this point in time.
"I WANT MY DINOSAUR!" The first time he screamed into my ears I dropped a plate into the sink. Thankfully, by now I'm so used to it that it only serves to add to the already fierce migraine pounding behind my eyes. Manny stumbles into the kitchen in her pajamas and pink bunny slippers, yawning and looking like she could use a shower or another hour of sleep before getting up to face the day. Unfortunately, she won't get either; school starts in thirty minutes, and as I was so lucky to find out the hard way this morning, our hot water isn't working for some reason.
"Oh, Em, you made waffles. I love your waffles. Almost," yawn, "as much," yawn, "as I love," yawn, "Craaaiiiiiiiig." She yawns during the last word but doesn't stop talking, instead drawing it out until it sounds almost like a faint moan of irritation.
"Yeah, well, you'd better. I was going to make pancakes, but the batter spilled all over the front of my shirt and I had to change clothes," I say by way of reply, trying to step over all of the toys littering the floor so that I can clear the dishes on the table. Snake left for work earlier this morning looking pale; I swear if anyone else in this family gets sick, I'm going to blow up from the added pressure.
"Hey, where's Spike?" Manny finally asks, scanning the room as she forks her first bite of waffle.
"She has the stomach flu. Snake had to leave early for a faculty meeting about the first day this morning, so we need to drop Jack off at daycare before we go to school." As if she's just noticing Jack's incessant wailing for the first time, she pushes out of her chair and walks over to us, taking him out of my arms.
"Jackie, you shouldn't cry so loud. It's just making everybody feel worse," she soothes, smoothing a hand over his ruffled hair. In two seconds flat she's reduced him to a sniffling, red-face, and quiet boy. This is how it's been for about a month; Jack suddenly decided that he loves Manny more than the rest of us, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. I'd be disgusted and more than a little disturbed if I wasn't so relieved. The two of them sit down side by side at the table and his tiny feet swing back and forth as he gobbles up his breakfast. "Now Em, at the risk of sounding stupid… how are we supposed to get Jack to day care and get to school on time when we don't have a car?" Damn the family car for picking this week to break down. Damn me for forgetting that minor detail. Damn this whole morning for being so insane.
I press the bridge of my nose with my index finger and thumb, hard. After a moment I look back at Manny and sigh in resignation. "We're going to have to call Peter." Those six words seem to have instantly soured Manny's good mood, but she doesn't say a word. She doesn't need to, really; her facial expression and her suddenly stiff posturing is more than enough. "Manny, I'm sorry, but what else do you want me to do, bring Jack with us to school?" She sighs and sets down at her fork, staring sullenly at the food that she'd been praising moments ago.
"It's fine. I just… I'll go get dressed." Manny leaves the table without looking at me. Jack picks that moment to start screaming again, and I bite back a scream of my own before picking him up. I have no idea what is wrong with her, with both of them. At the end of school she and Peter seemed to be getting along fine, and then somewhere during the summer things changed and they went back to hating each other with a passion. Thankfully, they were courteous enough to insist that I didn't have to choose between the two of them; I just had to choose who I spent time with when… and proceeded to complain whenever I didn't spend every waking moment with one or the other. I finally reach the phone on the counter and dial Peter's cell phone number. Jack picks that moment to wriggle out of my grasp and fall onto the floor. Instead of wailing, though, he goes on his way with a smile on his face; I guess teenage boys aren't the only ones that are fine as soon as they're free of me. I'm seriously considering just skipping the first day of school altogether when Peter finally picks up.
"Hey, Emma. Just can't get enough of me, can you?" he teases. I'd almost forgotten our impromptu makeout session last night; now I remember, though, and I distinctly recall having to divert his hand from my belt multiple times. The thought of it makes bile rise up in my throat for some reason.
"Actually, I need to ask you a favor. I need to get Jack to daycare, and Manny and I need a ride to school. Can you pick us up?" I ask hopefully. In the back of my mind I know that there's no way that my boyfriend's going to refuse me, even if it means being late for homeroom; I still need to hear him say it, though. Instead, he says something else.
"Wait, Manny? I'm sorry, Em, but I can't do it," he answers abruptly. I hold the phone away from my face long enough to let out a frustrated noise before bringing it back up to my ear.
"Peter, remember who you're talking to? This is Emma, your girlfriend, who loves you and needs you to do this for her. Besides, Manny won't say a word, and we'll only be in the car for fifteen minutes tops." There's a pause for a moment. He lets out a heavy sigh and I smile in relief before he's even started talking.
"I'll be there in five minutes."
"Thank you! I'll see you then."
"Okay. Love you, bye." For a moment, I consider saying the words back, even though I usually don't. By the time I make up my mind to say it he's already hung up. It doesn't really surprise me, but it's still amusing in a sad sort of way; I haven't said those words to him all summer, save for an uncomfortable 'you too' or 'I know' whenever he tells me he loves me or in a teasing way when I'm asking a favor. I just always wanted my first time telling someone that I loved them to mean something; for me to mean it when I said it. I've already lost my window of opportunity, though, so I trudge into the living room, picking up toys and righting off-kilter objects as I go.
"Jack, come here! I need to get your shoes on." He doesn't answer, and when I come into the living room I find him on the couch… asleep. I know that he woke up at six thirty when he heard Spike throwing up, but there's not an ounce of sympathy in my body for the small tornado as I march towards him, grabbing his sneakers and discarded socks on my way. He doesn't wake when I put the socks on, but as I shove his feet none too delicately into the sneakers he stirs and, of course, starts screaming again. When I pull on the laces he tries to kick me in the face, and I immediately switch him around and yank until they're tied in something resembling a knot. It'll have to do. Manny walks into the room and Peter knocks on the door simultaneously, and with me tied down with Jack Manny reluctantly opens the front door and exchanges glares with Peter.
"Are you ready to go, Emma?" I look up at him and see the barely masked irritation in his features, the impatience coming through his fingers tapping against his leg. Yes, I'm ready, Peter, even though my hair is a mess and I haven't had a chance to conceal the circles under my eyes, and even though my best friend in the world is standing there giving me an inferiority complex with a look that she somehow managed to pull together in two minutes while my little brother tries to headbutt me.
"Yeah, I'm ready." Manny picks up the car seat situated by the door and the four of us walk out. I stop in my tracks at the sight of Peter's brand new sports car.
"Surprise," he says in a flat voice. "I was going to show you when we got to school, but I guess now is as good a time as ever." I don't know anything about cars, but I know that Peter loves them and that this is a really nice one. With a little effort, Jack is transported into Manny's arms and my arms are around Peter's neck as I lean in to kiss him softly.
"It's a really nice car," I comment before walking away to buckle Jack in. When I get into the front seat I see that I've managed to smooth things over by the way he's smiling. Thankfully, my directions to Jack's daycare center keep us from falling into a stony, hostile silence. Once we get to the center I get Jack out of the car and take him in. By the time I get back out, Manny and Peter's voices are audible all the way from the entrance. Before I can hear them they see me and both of them stop immediately.
"Guys, come on. This is only a ten minute car ride. Do we have to fight the whole way there?" Neither of them answers, but they both clamp their mouths shut. By now the back of my head is throbbing too, and I run my hand up my neck until I reach the tension-filled spot. It's an almost laughable idea, but I think that the silence might actually be making it worse.
"Emma, are you okay?" Manny asks in concern.
"I'm fine; it's just a headache," I reply, trying to smile. Instead she regards me suspiciously and frowns.
"Did you eat breakfast this morning?" Yes, I ate breakfast in between my two-hour-long shower and my daily morning yoga session, Manny. God, do these people think that I have time on my hands to spare once fall comes?
"I was really busy this morning. I guess that it just slipped my mind," I say instead. I can't afford to have Manny any madder at me than she already is. Instantly she and Peter both stiffen slightly and I see him glance over at me less than subtly.
"Emma, you know how hard it is for you to get back on track once you fall off the wagon," Peter starts, and from the corner of my eye I can see Manny preparing to say something.
"You guys, I just forgot. I'm not trying to lose ninety pounds before the second semester, I'm not trying to control the only thing I can control; I'm just trying to make it through the morning from hell. And Peter, you shouldn't mix your metaphors; it doesn't make for a very convincing argument. Now will you guys please get off my back?" I manage through clenched teeth. It's pretty sad when the two people closest to you have nothing better to do than sit around picking apart your eating habits, even if you do have a history of anorexia.
"Peter's right, Emma. We're just worried about you. We all know that it's been a stressful morning, and that that's never good for your…" she drifts off and I turn around to face her, smirking slightly.
"My disorder? It's okay to say it, you know. Shrink appointments have gotten me more than used to the terminology by now," I say snidely. Before Manny can reply, Peter pulls the car into Degrassi and parks. He turns and looks at me expectantly for a moment, and when I finally realize what he's getting at I bite my lip.
"Manny and I always go into school together on the first day of the year; it's kind of a thing of ours," I explain, hoping to soften the blow a little. His blue eyes flash and I can tell that I haven't helped much.
"I'll see you at lunch, won't I? Or are there rituals concerning that, too?" he snipes.
"There aren't any 'rituals' concerning lunch, but you won't be able to sit with me. I'm going to be in the library, finishing my summer reading," I reply with more than a little irritation. The three of us get out of the car and begin walking toward the front steps. He looks at me with disbelief, and I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent an out-of-place smile when I think of what he'd say if I'd told him that in reality, I was starting my summer reading, and I probably would've skipped lunch even if I didn't have reading, if only to escape him and Manny.
"Well, I guess that the next time you need a driver I'll get five minute's notice," he mutters. Before I have a chance to call after him he's disappeared into the crowd, lost in a sea of bodies.
"That went well," Manny observes glumly, tracing an invisible pattern into the asphalt. I link arms with her as JT, Toby, and Liberty walk up to us.
"It can only get better from here," I say with confidence, and the five of us walk up the front steps and straight into another year we're sure to remember.
-0-0-0-
I wish that what I'd told Manny had been true, but throughout the day it's proven to be BS, plain and simple. On the way into homeroom I tripped and hit the side of my head on the corner of a desk, which, surprise, surprise, didn't exactly help my migraine any. After third period when I was getting a drink at the water fountain, Peter came up behind me and tried to catch me by surprise; he succeeded, and I ended up sputtering water all down the front of my white shirt. By the time that lunch rolled around I had an awful turning sensation in the pit of my stomach.
The nurse's office was packed with people, most of them looking for aspirin to relieve the first-day-of-school headache. Suddenly the nausea in my stomach reached its peak and I stumbled into the adjoining bathroom, barely making it before I started retching. When I was done the nurse came in and handed me a wet paper towel, asking me what number to call to reach my mom. Naturally, my mom wouldn't be able to pick me up even if she did have a car, and I explained as much to the nurse. In some stroke of luck Toby entered at that moment and offered to borrow Ashley's car and drive me home. I nodded gratefully, trying to fight off another, smaller wave of nausea. I made it through the car ride home, which both of us were thankful for. But now that I'm at home and all I want to do is collapse, I have to face a somewhat better Spike asking me cautious, thinly veiled questions.
"So you were in the nurse's office when you threw up? Not the girls' room?" I run a hand through my hair and shut my eyes, trying to calm my rebellious stomach.
"Yes, I was in the nurse's office. She was there for the whole show, so she can tell you herself that there wasn't a finger down a throat involved. Can I please go to bed?" Spike's face fills with regret and she reaches out to touch my shoulder.
"Honey, I'm sorry. It's just… I worry about you sometimes, and I don't want to miss any signs if you start to relapse," she fumbles, trying to sugarcoat it. The truth is, she doesn't believe that there's a second that I'm alone that I'm not making myself throw up or scribbling down the day's food consumption in my old diary. Suddenly my stomach clenches and I run for the bathroom again. My mom is there to hold my hair back and rub my back, but all that I can think is that this is how it's always going to be. I have to throw up in front of her for her to believe me when I say that someone didn't walk in on me making myself sick; I just caught her stomach bug.
As I curl up on my side in bed, something twists inside me and tears start flowing down my face. For as long as I can recall, this is the way I've cried; the tears come, but never any sobs, never any feeling besides emptiness. There's no anguish fisting my chest so tight that I can't breathe, no whimpers that won't stay in my mouth; only silence and tears that seem to cool the moment they leave my eyes. There have only been two times that I remember sobbing; after the shooting, when I found Toby at a memorial service that neither of us felt comfortable at but both of us felt drawn to; and over Sean. He always had that ability to reach down and get emotions and reactions out of me that no one else could. I could never decide if I loved it or hated it; now I just miss it.
-0-0-0-
"Hey, you." Spike carefully sets down the tray of soup and ginger ale that she's been holding so that she can sit beside me on the bed. "Are you feeling any better?"
"Some," I answer abruptly, smoothing my hair back from my face. "I don't think I'm sick anymore; if I sleep through the rest of the night I might be able to make it to school tomorrow." Spike's brow creases and she shakes her head.
"Honey, no. The last thing you need is to stretch yourself too thin now and then end up getting really sick and falling behind. I want you to stay home until you're sure that you're okay. I actually need to call Dr. West right now to cancel tomorrow's appointment…"
"Don't, mom. I'm fine, okay? It was probably just something that I ate anyway. The last thing that I need is to get out of the habit of going to therapy," I insist, trying to brace my turning stomach as I look at the bowl of soup. It isn't the stomach bug that's making me want to get the food as far away from me as I can but the same nauseating experience I always endure when I know that there's no way around eating.
"Emma, you're allowed to be sick. Just because we don't want you skipping therapy…" Spike begins, but I cut her off.
"Trust me mom, I need this. I've actually been wanting to talk to her about some things…" Despite her best efforts to conceal it, I can see the small glimmer of hope in my mom's eyes. Me admitting that there's something wrong, and what's more wanting to talk about it, has to be a positive indicator, after all. Maybe she'll finally begin to get back the daughter that she lost a little over a year ago. It would break her heart if she knew that the truth was that I couldn't deal with dragging myself there every week if I got a taste of freedom, that I didn't want to deal with all of the inquisitive looks Manny and Peter would give me if I didn't go, both of them just wondering if I'd simply decided to skip out. "When did Manny get home?" I redirect the conversation, hoping to get her mind off of the touchy subject.
"She got a ride with Craig. He made a surprise visit today; they were upstairs for awhile hoping that you'd wake up so he could say hi, but they finally gave up." I smile slightly even though I'm upset that I missed them. Craig, probably one of the only people more talked about at Degrassi than I am, is one of the few people that I honestly count among my best friends. I was there when the situation with his dad and Joey and Angie came up; he was there when I found out about my dad. That was one crush I was glad never panned out. If I'd been without a friend like Craig who I could go to, no judgments or fear of emotional attachment, I might have floundered a lot more times than I did in the past couple of years.
"I'll wait up for them in the living room, okay? You should go to bed; you have to be somewhere tomorrow too," I point out. My mom smiles and kisses my forehead, gently smoothing straggles of messy hair away from my forehead.
"I know I don't say it often, but I'm so proud of you. Emma, I have to admit… in the hospital, when you said that you were going to try to beat it, I didn't believe you… but you proved me wrong. You have worked so hard…" She struggles to take in a breath and I notice her trying not to cry. I've never felt like more of a tyrant for lying to my mother. "And I just… I love you so much. I know that you kind of got lost the last couple of years, but you're finding your way back, and I don't know anyone else who would have had the strength to do it as well as you." A tear slips down my cheek as we hug, but I make sure she doesn't notice it, just like I always do.
-0-0-0-
When they finally get in it's after one, and I can't help but smile as I think that Manny and I are both going to zombies tomorrow. I know that at least two classes assigned us homework, and if I know the two of them, Manny probably won't be down to bed for another hour; neither of them are the best with goodbyes. "Emma! I didn't think that I'd get a chance to see you." Craig hesitates slightly, taking in the flannel pajama bottoms and Save the Whales t-shirt I hadn't remembered that I owned until tonight that I have on. "Are you, uh… feeling better?" he asks daintily, still looking extremely nervous to be within five feet of me.
"If you don't give me a hug I'll vomit voluntarily and aim for you," I say, and both of us laugh as he steps forward and gives me a giant bear hug. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too. It's good to be back, even if it is only for half a day." I stick out my bottom lip and frown.
"Gone so soon? You can't even spare one more day for your girlfriend and the rest of the little people you climbed over to get to the top?" Craig sticks his arm up and scratches at his head uncomfortably.
"Good lord, what is it with girls and that expression? Manny's been using it on me all day, and when I saw Ellie last night she looked like I had just killed her mom." We're all silent for a moment before Manny comes toward him, hugging him sideways and sliding her arm across his chest. Her head is tilted up, and both of us hold our breaths at the expression on her face; we've both seen it before.
"So, you visited Ellie last night? Before, uh, before seeing me?" He gulps and laughs. His voice is high-pitched and nervous and I can't suppress the smile that comes to my lips. He shoots me a glare before turning his head to look at Manny.
"Well, I ran into Ellie last night at the record store. We were both looking for the same album, and she invited me to a dorm party, and we ended up falling asleep in the dorm lounge." There's a general guideline that honesty is the best policy, and although I'd usually agree, the look on Manny's face right now is making me question the idea.
"Wait, so you slept with her!"
"God, no! We just fell asleep on opposite ends of the couch. You know that Ellie's not that kind of girl, Manny. And we're just friends." Manny is shooting daggers at him with her eyes and even I take a step back. I haven't seen her this upset since the… video… last year.
"Oh, I forgot; you only cheat on your girlfriends with this kind of girl, right?"
"I need to go call… someone," I hastily amend, realizing that mentioning Peter might not be doing Manny's current target any favors. "It was nice seeing you Craig."
"You too, Emma. Have a good second day tomorrow."
"I hope you have a good ride back to Toronto. And just as a suggestion, you guys might want to keep it down… parents are sleeping; parents who might not be so happy to know that Craig is still here at a quarter to two in the morning." As I jog down the stairs I can hear voices filtering through the floorboards; apparently, my suggestion fell on deaf ears.
There's nothing to do but try to get to sleep. Lying down, though, I keep feeling drawn towards the bathroom, and it scares me. I've heard that sometimes if an intervention happens before someone has a chance to crash completely, they don't realize what great danger they're in, so they almost always relapse. It's a fact that I've tucked away somewhere in the back of my head; part fear, part excuse.
I make my way to the bathroom cautiously and lean down over the toilet slowly. It should be easy or hard, but instead it's just more numbness. For a moment as I'm flushing the toilet I see my mom's face, so hopeful and vulnerable and sad for what I've gone through, and I feel a stab of guilt. I hear footsteps coming down the stairs and Manny and Craig appear in the doorway. "Em, are you okay?" Craig puts his hand on the door and looks at me, and for a second I see a hint of suspicion in his eyes, but it's almost completely overridden by worry.
"I… I guess I'm not better after all."