Beyond the Pale

Building tall and doors heavy don't seem to phase me as much anymore.

Because somehow, the empty space behind me feels more important than any appointment could ever be, and her leaving seems more monumental than I'd want it to be.

I don't need to look behind me to know she's gone, I don't need to hear the silence of a car nowhere in sight to know she left faster than what is good for my heart and soul. Because I feel the emptiness deep in my bones and the taste that is left on my tongue seems both bitter and sad. So incredibly sad.

I'm trying to hold my head high, I'm trying so hard but all it does is drain what little strength I have left, and as I push the heavy door away from me all I notice is how my body just seems to wanna fall into it, surrender to its power and superiority. Accept defeat because I don't remember any reason to fight back anymore.

I hear her before I see her, Paula rushing up to me and stalling, freezing unnaturally to her spot as she takes in my frame and decides not to envelope me in a hug after all. And it almost pains me to admit that I'm grateful. Grateful at not having someone close to me, trying desperately to project warmth into me when all it does is steal my strength and stimulate my frustration.

"Ashley, there you are. I'm sorry I didn't warn you before, it's just that I got a last minute appointment here. I meant to talk to you about it, but I hope it's okay that I went ahead and made you an appointment."

She smiles reassuringly at me but it does nothing to comfort me, it does nothing to stop the eerie silence that seems to have settled deep in my core.

I follow her to where she was previously sitting and just now notice the magazine pressed firmly together in her hand, knuckles turning white with its pressure. It seems unnecessary though, the force of her grip and I wonder if there's something else she desperately tries to grasp, something other than what's already in her hand.

"There's nothing to worry about, I just want you to talk to someone, you know, someone outside the family."

Lips and lines are formed to show me she means all well and I believe her. I don't question its authenticity because I know it's real, I know the warmth in her eyes only wants what is best for me. And that's when the guilt seeps into that emptiness that earlier inhabited me, that froze me in a stoic mind and helped me wallow in my own puddle of pity. Pity I know I don't deserve, not even from myself.

"Uhm, okay. I just-... I'm not sure why though? Have I done something wrong?"

"Oh no, not at all...! I just thought it might be good for you to talk to someone, you know, so you can talk about anything. I know it's not always easy to talk to those you live with."

Her smile widens more than it usually does and I know it's from effort, it's from trying to reassure me and somehow it makes me smile. Somehow, it makes me smile back at her even if I'm still not assured.

"Okey..."

She stands up from her spot on the edge of her seat and she turns to face me full on, watching me more closely than what I'm comfortable with.

But I wouldn't be comfortable with anything right now.

She lets out a breath I'm not sure how to read before she reaches out a hand for me. One I'm not sure if I should take or not.

"I'll follow you up, Ashley, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised when meeting Dr. Johnson, she's a very respected therapist.

I'm not supposed to answer so I don't, I instead take the hand that is offered to me because I have no choice, I have no way out of this and it's time that I accept that.

I know she senses my discomfort, I know she can see my shoulders rigid, my hands shaky but I can't control it, I can't make it stop. She gently tugs on my hand before releasing it and making her way to the elevator, asking me silently to follow. And I do.

She's staring at me, been doing it for the last minute and I wish she would at least blink, at least look down at the notes on her lap once in awhile. But she doesn't. She instead bores her brown eyes into my flickering ones, not once taking my silent request to look some other way.

"I guess this came pretty sudden on you, didn't it?"

It's not penetrating, her gaze, it's more...searching, like she can't see inside of me yet and instead choosing to take her time getting to know me before reading my thoughts. And I'm grateful.

"Yeah, uhm-... y-yeah."

I wish it didn't shake, I wish my voice could be laid-back and not such a window into what I'm feeling right now but it is, it's a display of everything that defines both me and this situation.

"You don't need to worry, this whole appointment is all up to you, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

She smiles at me, eyes still hanging onto my own making me squirm slightly in this chair.

"Okay..."

And it's silent again, it's so silent that I can hear my own heartbeat pressing against my chest, constricting from this tension I'm putting it through.

She's not making any moves to talk to me, only sits there so patiently that I almost think she enjoys it. And maybe she does.

"So..."

I can't take the quietude, I can't handle hearing heartbeats beating in different patterns, mine so feverishly and fast and hers so calm and collected. It's just another reason to loathe this situation because we are not equals in this room, we are not sharing anything but the air we breathe and I'm so desperate for something to be said that I end up being the one saying something, even if it's just one word, one pathetic, unimportant word that does nothing but confirm how awkward this whole ordeal is.
I don't know what more to say so I keep quiet for awhile, hoping she will say something, break the silent stare she's pinning me to this chair with. But she doesn't and I'm suddenly the one that has to make a move, that has to break this awkwardness and try to make it more comfortable. I've never been that person.
I'm used to Glen doing something goofy to make me smile or saving me from tense conversations, I'm used to Arthur humming up a tune I always recognize and feel familiar with, I'm used to other people breaking the tension and maybe it's been wrong all along. Maybe I've only passed the job of making things comfortable onto someone else and never taken the effort to do it myself.

So maybe I deserve this, maybe I deserve being put into someone else's shoes, no longer depending on the efforts from those around me, but having to depend solely on myself.

Maybe I'm not ready for that.

"Uhm... So, I'm not sure what to say really," is all I manage to stumble together in my weak attempt to right my wrongs and eliminate the tension myself. I wish I could be proud for trying but I'm only disappointed at how weakly I executed it and the disappointment makes me throw my eyes onto the floor, away from the prying eyes in front of me.

"You can tell me anything you want to," slides out of her so effortlessly and smoothly that I know for a fact she's said it plenty of times before, not making me the least bit more comfortable in this situation. But she's only doing her job and I could never really blame her for that.

"Hmm... Uhm, you couldn't, I don't know, help me some?"

There is such a naked pleading in the way I am uttering there words and to anyone else it would seem weak, pathetic.

But for once, I feel oddly proud. Because I asked for ihelp/i, I actually asked instead of implying like I've always done, just skirting around the topic but never actually outright asking for help on what to talk about.

"Sure, but only if you promise to answer truthfully."

I've never seen myself as dishonest or a liar. But as this gentle request is being made, as she asks me something so mundane as being truthful I realize that I'm having huge problems promising such a thing. And it hits me so sudden and so unexpected that all I've ever been have been dishonest and it squeezed my heart at all the wrong angles, the realization of how I've always been this way. Untruthful.

So I take a leap, possibly the first ihonest/i one.

"I don't know if I can."

She's still watching me, still locking her eyes with mine but they're still not inside me, still just skimming on the surface. And I wonder if she's even aware of it. That she can't see inside me, or if she actually thinks she can.

I haven't decided how I feel about that yet.

"I see..."

That's all she utters, this woman sitting opposite of me, and I wish this was all over, I wish this whole appointment would just up and leave and I would magically find myself somewhere else, somewhere so far from this place that I couldn't even imagine it anymore.

I take a quick glance toward the clock on the far right wall and I hope that it's lying, I hope that it once stopped in the middle of the night and never started again, because if only ten minutes have passed then I'm sure the laws of physics have been broken. Because the clock inside my head says I've been here for days.

"Will you at least try for me?"

"What...?"

"To be honest?"

Only three words and I feel floored by them, by everything they imply and how much insight in imyself/i they give me.

And maybe that's been the goal all along. That she never tried to look inside because that was never the purpose. That it's all just a game to make me see inside myself.

This scares me almost more.

"Yeah, I'll try."

I'm not sure if the answer comes unexpected, but it takes awhile before she speaks again, as if searching for the right words, the right questions.

"What does it feel like when you enter a new family, Ashley?"

It's not like I haven't asked this question before, asked myself how much strain and dread such a move puts on me, but hearing someone else ask me about it somehow makes the answer seem more clear to me.

"It's uhm... It's so scary..."

I can't look at her as I tell her, I only glance down on my hands, cupping one of them with the other, tracing the lines inside my hand like I'm sitting here alone, like no one but myself is listening in on this. I don't know if I would've been able to be honest if something else was the case.

"It's like... It's like the whole world is judging you, watching you. It feels like all they're doing is looking for a reason to send you back. And they always seem to find something."

"Are you afraid the Carlin family will do the same?"

"I guess..."

"You guess?"

"I guess...well, I know. Yes."

She's looking at me more intently, I can feel her eyes shooting themselves on me more thoroughly than before even though I'm still not looking up at her, I'm still not ready to watch expressions play out on her face as I answer.

"Is there a reason they should want to send you back?"

My eyes shoot up faster than I reckoned for and I know I just showed her the answer, I know I just revealed myself although not iwhat/i. I'm momentarily paralyzed, deathly afraid that she can see inside my thoughts and see what lies within them, within me. But her curious eyes tell me she can't, she's not able to see the forbidden feelings I have toward someone I should never have gotten feelings for.

"Maybe..." escapes my lips before I'm fast enough to censor it and I already regret saying it as Dr. Johnson's curiosity seems to peak.

"And what may this be?"

She almost seems surprised by her own question, like her nosiness overtook her suaveness and made her ask me something she hadn't intended to.

I can't look at her anymore, I can't watch her try to figure me out so I utter a "no, there's nothing, really. I don't know," before standing up awkwardly and pointing at the door.

"Can I...use the restroom just quick? Please?"

"We don't need to talk more today, Ashley, but I'd feel honored if you want to come back and talk to me again. You seem like a good kid."

She smiles knowingly, perfectly aware that I had no intentions of continuing this session and I'm grateful that she's making this easier for me.

I nod her goodbye.

The air seems chillier when I step out of the building and I can't help but drag my sleeves around my hands before crossing my arms around my body. I feel vulnerable, exposed and out here in the open I'm not sure what to make of myself. I'm half an hour earlier than I should have been and there's no one around that I recognize. Paula has disappeared and I feel queasy at the prospect of her just leaving, just... leaving me here alone.

There's an empty spot of grass to the right of the building and although I should probably stay inside, hide from the wind that seems to blow harder and more menacingly, I feel an urge to sit down on it, sit down on the grass that seems so lonely and innocent without any trees or bushes around to keep it company. And when I do sit down, I cross my legs and splay my fingers out onto the grass, feeling it tickle the insides of my hands, silently rustling in the wind.

The grass feels rugged between my fingertips as I pick on it subconsciously, now and then watching the green material fall from my grasp, sometimes on purpose and sometimes not. It's been 45 minutes since I sat down here and I know I'm not supposed to still be here, I know I should have been somewhere else by now but I'm not. The eerie feeling settled into me 20 minutes ago but it's getting less and less painful to realize that I've been forgotten, that I've been left out. There's a numbness taking over the previous hurt and all I now feel is resignation.

The wind seems to distract me more than I want it to as it blows my unruly hair away from the side of my neck and into my mouth and line of vision. But somehow it's a welcomes distraction, because it is only in these moments that I forget that I'm here alone, God knows for how long or if it's ever going to pass. This loneliness.

The harsh breeze isn't the only sound present as I can distantly hear cars and children and noises I can't place all around me, but they are muffled by the noise of the wind in my ears. And this is why I can barely hear a voice in the distance, one I've heard plenty of times before but have always tried to ignore.

"Girl, are you blind? Get over here!"

I reluctantly tip my head sideways in a direction I hope is the right one and it is, because I can see a Latina with her sunglasses slightly tipped down motioning for me to come over with the tip of her finger.

And she's not the only one there.

On the driver's side of the car sits a girl I never thought I'd be relieved to see but I am, I'm so relieved that I throw the grass in my hand in an unknown direction as I climb myself up from the grass and hurriedly walk in their direction. Letting out a thankful breath I deep down knew I had inside me.

"Get in the back, do not for once think you're riding shotgun."

She's still the only one talking, Madison, but it's a common occurrence to hear her and only her and it doesn't bother me that much right now. Because she's making this less awkward.

"Spencer, did you see how Dan was looking at you today? He's sooo in love with you."

For once I'm actually listening to Madison and when she mentions a guy's name I can't help but look her way, look onto the narrow angle of Spencer's face, the only angle I'm privy to from the confinements of the backseat.
I know I shouldn't, I know I'm still not allowed but I can't help but gaze at her, both from the pleasure of it and how desperately I want to know what she's thinking.

There's been no acknowledgment of the earlier car ride, no mean stares thrown like spears in my direction, no shouting from Madison of how rude I was toward her best friend, nothing at all.

"You're just exaggerating Mads, I'm sure he was watching you the same way..."

"Oh, don't try to use that modest tone Spence, it totally doesn't suit you."

And all I can think is how perfectly it idoes/i suit her, how much more appealing she is when she's acting more self-conscious and nice instead of the bitch with the mean-streak like she usually does.

"I'm not acting modest, okay? I'm just stating the truth and it wouldn't matter anyway. I'm not interested."

I'm still watching her, trying to gauge her facial expressions from the narrow angle I'm watching her from. Not once have my eyes strayed away from her and onto Madison because Madison's got nothing on the girl in my view. I hate to admit no one does.

"Didn't you make out with him once?"

I've got no right to feel hurt at the words but it hasn't gotten easier, hearing about her and her conquests. Although I've gotten used to it, it doesn't reduce the ache inside me whenever I hear about it, whenever I think about her with someone else, if possible it's only gotten worse. So much worse.

"What? No, I'd never make out with him, not even if I was dead drunk."

Having momentarily ripped my eyes away from her, my eyes find her frame once again and I'm shocked to see I'm not the only one watching. There's another pair of eyes looking somewhere and they're an impossible shade of blue, angled up into the rearview mirror and she's watching ime/i.

She's watching me.

She's catching me stare at her and I wonder if she saw me before also, brushing my eyes over her forehead and down her nose, lingering on her lips longer than I should have and trailing up her jawline before casting my eyes away. The look in her eyes doesn't tell me anything I understand though, and she doesn't give me the possibility to read them either. Because her eyes are no longer on me and instead back on focusing on the road ahead of us.

While I'm still lingering in the now.

"I know who you'd like to kiss though..." is heard saucily uttered to the right, Madison having been thankfully oblivious to the tense awkwardness between me and Spencer. Or possibly, between me and just...my imagination.

"Shut up, Mads."

The playfulness still lingers in Madison's eyes but she doesn't probe further, leaving both me and the conversation at a place both of us didn't want to be left at.

I'm watching between them, trying to understand their silent conversation, the one taking place in this instant, but that I'm not privy to hear. A conversation I'm dying to hear. They're whole demeanors are so different in this car, Madison slumped into her seat watching out the opened window with her elbow gently laid on the windowsill, seemingly happy and care free.

Spencer, on the other hand, seems uncomfortable and out of her skin, shoulders rigid and her back barely touching the back of the seat, both hands holding onto the steering wheel. She seems even more uncomfortable than me and i feel for her, I wish I could do something to make her feel more at place.

The problem is, I think I'm the reason for it all.

"You're up for that party on Friday, though?"

Her knuckles seem to relax a fraction, shoulders slumping a wee bit down and she seems to welcome the change in conversation.

"Sure, it's not like I've got anything else to do."

"Sweet!"

"But if you set me up with Dan, I'm going to kill you, okay?"

Madison laughs lightly before taking off her sunglasses and looking up at the sky through the open window. The wind seems to appear again as she mumbles out something that will haunt my sleep tonight and cloud my thoughts and make me damn my hearing because I can't quite hear what she's saying, the wind stealing half the strength of her voice as it slides into the car at the worst possible moment.

Because I will never know if she really uttered the sentence I think I heard:

"How about his sister?"