Hangover, Girlfriend and History Teacher

My head is killing me. In math I make a mental note: no drinking due the week. Shit. Few months ago, I wouldn't even have noticed I have been drinking at night. But today?

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" She asks me at lunch. I'm not really hungry, but I avoid Seth, so he won't find out about my show last night. I won't be able to cope with his wise advices. Not today. Unfortunately my drinking last night only had led to a lot of puking, but no black out. I need to apologize for my…no idea what it had been, but it doesn't deserve to be considered as behaviour. It's so embarrassing.

"Hangover." I say honestly. If I said headache and nauseas she would start asking bothering questions, which would lead to the same answer anyway. So I just spit it out. Saves me a lot of headache increasing words.

"What? Don't tell me you have…"

"Yes I have." I cut her off. Her voice isn't really helpful with my headache right now – way too pitched.

"Damn it Ryan!" She shouts into my face. Did I think about how she might react? No I didn't. I definitely should have.

"You can't always get wankered, instead of facing a conflict." Why was she looking through me? I don't like it, if people do that.

"I know." I admit, hoping to satisfy her with this answer and make her stop screaming into my already shrilling ear.

"You're an asshole do you know that?" Huh? Nice. This is what I want to hear. Very charming. Not only that I got to know that I'm a nut case. No, now my girlfriend calls me an asshole.

"Do you notice how much you hurt the Cohens with your behaviour? They're fighting so hard for you. They would do everything for you to make you feel better – more accepted and less depressed. Maybe it's time to give them a chance." My conscience is talking. Yes I know I screwed up again. A leopard cannot change its spots. It's not as if I didn't try to. I just fail. And this makes me angry again. I can't do anything right. I'm just some fucking scum who intruded this community. Hell, I really should reconsider my permanent stay here.

"Ryan, look at me. Why don't you understand that they only want to help you to cope?" She pronounces her first sentence again.

"Nice, hooking me on drugs, so that their project from Chino-scum into straight A student works out." It slips out. I haven't thought about what I was saying, but yes I'm a stupid dumb ass. I can't change who I am or what I am and I'm tired of trying so.

"What are you talking about?"

"They dragged me to Mrs. Turner and she came to the conclusion I'm depressive and need some of these funny happy pills." Shit. Seth has had quite too much influence on me. I never was sarcastic. I hated sarcasm. But now I even start to think sarcastic.

"Oh…this is hard. And when they told you, you freaked out?" I only nod. I already see the lesson coming.

"And you didn't bother to call me or come by? I'm your girlfriend. I'm there to listen to you or better talk to you, as you don't talk much."

"How? Yesterday was your meeting for the trip to France. I…I didn't want to disturb you. You're so looking forward to it. I didn't want to destroy your happiness about it." I don't want to bother her with my trivialities. Well, okay I'm even more concerned to take her down with me. She doesn't deserve it. Another mental note: I should reconsider my relationship to her. When she means something to me it probably will be better if I leave her. Another mental note: I can't.

"But this isn't more important than you!" Now she's angry with me and I can't see how to calm her down again. It's like I can say what I want to. I mess it up anyway.

"Yes it is! Damn, you aren't talking about anything else for weeks. Don't you think I noticed what huge enthusiasm is behind all this? France is your dream and you should live it."

"You know what? You really have a big problem. No other person would say about himself being less important than a fucking school trip." She gets up and wants to leave. What the heck have I done this time?

"Marissa, wait…" I catch up with her. "Why are you angry now?"

"Because you're still not talking to me…I have the feeling as if our relationship has stopped somewhere. A relationship needs to develop. But…you still don't trust me, you still don't talk to me, you still behave like this Chino-boy." Hu? What was that?

"First of all, I tried to explain you what this talking- thing is for me. And what do you mean by Chino-boy? At least I'm from there, so sorry that I didn't grow up under the same influence as you did, but unfortunately it's not as easy to overcome this, as you think!" Now I'm angry. She reproached me for being from Chino. As if this was my fault. I can't change the fact that I'm a fucking Chino-boy. I wished it was a little different. But that's it and she has to accept it.

"And you should accept that your Chino-life is over." There is something true about it. But hell, if it was that easy I wouldn't have to struggle that hard to…to to what? I don't know what. I only see how she walks away. I need to change something and…technically I know how, but…shit. I'm screwed and this fact becomes clearer to me from day to day.

I arrive at home – alone, because Seth is out with Summer. Like Siamese twins. I see the Ranger Rover is standing in the driveway. Kirsten is home. I'm afraid to face her after what I've done last night. But there's no way out. I doubt they still believe in all my sorrys. I really, really mean them. But if I did, I should be able to change my behaviour. But I'm not. Shit. Why do things here have to be so fucking complicated? I had a quiet life in Chino and here, everything is trouble. Not that Chino didn't mean trouble too. But the trouble here was in somehow different, just more difficult to solve. I open the door. The smell of tea tells me Kirsten's in the kitchen. I slow down. I try to think what to tell her. A simple sorry isn't enough this time. Truth, honest. But that's not easy.

"Hey Ryan." She greets me. My heart sinks into the bottom of my pants because of guilt.

"Hi." I only answer. I can't look at her. Not after my show last night. I feel the urge just to disappear in the pool house, but this would be…wrong.

"Uhm…Kirsten…" She looks at me and I regret my decision to talk. "I…just wanted to apologize…for…you know last night. This was just…more than wrong and out of place. It's just…I dunno. It was wrong." I stammer.

"It's okay. It had been a little bit shocking what Mrs. Turner had said yesterday and the thought of antidepressants is not really comforting. But we need to find a solution. It can't go on like that. You need to talk to us – about everything." Deep down I know that. I only don't want to admit it.

"But…you know this talking-thing is not my favourite hobby."

"I know and we don't do this to harm you. We worry about you. Your father worries about you and don't try to tell me you feel well. This talking-thing is helping you to cope with what had happened to you." How? It's just words and words can't do anything despite sound good and look good on a cheat of paper.

"Kirsten, talking can't make the last few months undone."

"No, but when they're said they're not on your mind anymore. Despite they help to find what the real problem is and how to solve it, hopefully without happy pills." At least we agree to one point in this topic.

"You're still not convinced, hu? What about a deal: You start to trust me – only a little more. You don't need to tell me everything. We can start slow. And I trust you and allow that Marissa can stay over night." Yes, there was something I have forgotten about: I and Marissa were in some kind of dispute.

"What's wrong Ryan? Don't tell me you two…"

"We had a little argument today." I admit, fast and painless.

"Oh, but that happens. A good relationship needs to grow – to develop. Arguments belong to that." Who has said this sentence already once this day? I can't remember.

I didn't argue about Kirsten's attempt to make me feel better, although I don't see that I feel bad at all. It's just not always sun shine the whole day. I only had one chance to make it better: I have to change my behaviour, no matter how hard it is. I have to pull myself together.

I'm sitting on my bed, doing my homework. Hell, I never thought that history was that difficult. I'm even too dumb to write down the right date for the right event. I'm frustrated. I feel the urge to throw the book through the pool house. Unfortunately it more consists of windows and they are much too breakable. Thus I ball up one paper after another and throw it in the direction of my waste paper basket. Not that I hit them into it. They neatly land beside or behind it.

"Hey, still homework?" It's Kirsten. She comes in with two mugs. She sits down on the bed, handing me one of them.

"Thanks." I say.

"History?" She asks me, when she takes the book and thumbs through it.

"What's about your History teacher?" She asks me on. I don't want to tell her about it. This is my business and I have to cope with it. I messed it up and I have to make things right again.

"Nothing, just not my favourite class." I answer. It's no lie. I don't like those classes in which I have to work a lot with words. I don't like words much.

"Seth told me that the teacher hates you. Can you tell me why?" She asks on. I only shrug my shoulders. She has enough on her mind with her own job. I don't want to bother her with my little school-problems. But we had a deal. So the question was: how to stick to the deal without bothering her?

"Can you at least tell me how he shows that?" She asks on. Why does she bother? I can deal with it on my own. She shouldn't bother with my problems at all. I do the best to be as less a burden as possible and she's crossing my plans with all her questions.

"Ryan, I'm asking you something and I expect an answer." Now she sounds a little angry and I guess, I should answer, after my…last night and our deal. She seems to take it really serious.

"I chose History classes, as I need to balance my schedule. Only natural sciences aren't allowed and I would never be able to catch up all those years French I've missed. When Bork came in and called up all names on his list I noticed mine wasn't called up. I asked him about it and he told me, if my name wasn't on his list, I wasn't allowed to attend his class and he threw me out." I explain her.

"Did you talk to Mrs. Fisher?"

"Yes and she said she had enrolled me for this class. She talked to him and then I was allowed to attend History classes."

"And that's all? There was nothing else? What did he say, when you attended his class?" She looks at me. Her eyes are serious and I can't answer her look and just focus the comforter of the bed.

"Ryan?" She always detects me, when I try to just leave things out.

"He told me that he's no fan from mixing up social classes and I shouldn't expect a social service." I say it fast, hoping she won't make a deal out of it.

"He didn't say that, did he?" She calls out. I only nod.

"Well then I need to talk to Dr. Kim again." Okay, she's making a big deal out of it.

"No, don'…" I want to stop her, but she has this expression on her face telling me: no opposition.

"Ryan, what your teacher said was wrong. He had no right to say something like that." She wants me to answer something, but I don't know what, thus I only shrug my shoulders. It only had been words and they didn't even hurt me. I have had to bear a lot more and worse things than this statement.

"And then I want to talk to you about your daily routine. I don't think it's helpful if you spend the whole day with studying." I don't understand what she means. Isn't it obvious that I need to do even more only to…catch up, to be back where I have been before?

"Don't look at me like that. The first quarter you didn't learn that hard. I think you're overdoing it."

"Kirsten, I have to." I try to explain her.

"Why? Give me one plausible reason?"

"You have seen it or not?" I only answer. I don't understand what she's doing and I don't understand why she's still bothering. School is my responsibility, not hers.

"I think you do all this to hide from…what had happened." I roll my eyes. How does she want to know?

"Your flurry, not sleeping, not eating. This all shows me that you didn't settle yet, even after so many months. You didn't arrive here, what means you're still stuck somewhere between today and your past and we need to change that." I'm stunned. I thought she was an architect and no…shrink.

"Don't look that way you are. I talked to some people and read some articles. I know what I'm doing. And because I know you would run if I'd come you with a therapist I try it myself. But you have to cooperate. Because if I realize I fail, I have to send you to a shrink. Okay?" Why is she doing all this? She had enough work to do. My head is too slow to understand any action going on in this household. This is definitely the wrong place for me.

"What means: you come home with Seth after school. You two hang out together or with friends and then you do your homework. You don't have to do them in the same room. I only want you to have the same routine you had, when you first came here. Understood?" I only nod.

"And before getting to bed, you drink this tea and read something before switching your light off. You need to get your mind free from bothering thoughts. Otherwise it's no wonder that you can't sleep." I only nod.

"Could you talk to me, to show me you have been listening?" She asks.

"I listened. Not much learning, more friends. I got it."

"Ryan, this is no punishment or anything like that. I only want to help you."

"But you have enough to do with your job." It slips out of my mouth. Shit, shit, shit. Why did I say that? This isn't going to make a good impression. Since when wasn't I able to hold back my thoughts? Since Kirsten starts to…give me some kind of warm feeling. And I swear I have no idea what this is supposed to mean.

"Ryan, stop talking as if you was just some kind of bothering project. I care, I really do – we really care. And I want you to accept it, because I'm not going to change this. Understood?" I only nod.

"That's good and now drink your tea before it's getting cold."