Part 3
Angela came to Elliot's house later that morning. She knocked on the door and she waited impatiently for it to open, shifting her feet and sighing. She wanted so desperately to know what had happened last night. Hopefully Elliot would be in the mood to talk. She felt sick. What was going to happen to him? The guy he'd hurt probably wasn't going to let him off easy. Who was this guy anyway? Whoever he was, he had to have started it. Elliot wouldn't do something like this unless he was provoked, Angela was sure of that much at least.
The sound of the door creaking open broke her out of her thoughts. Angela expected to see Elliot or Darlene in the doorway. Instead it was their mother that greeted her.
Angela smiled politely. "Hi, Ms. Alderson," she said.
Magda's smile was small but genuine. "Hello, Angela. What brings you here today?"
Elliot and Darlene's mother seemed to really like Angela, though she could not fathom why, even after all these years. Magda didn't seem to care much for anybody else, not even her own children. Yet she'd taken a liking to Angela in a hurry. Angela was a disaster after her mother passed, and her dad was of no help to her, being trapped in his own haze of grief. But Magda Alderson was there for her on more than one occasion, with a tissue or a hug. Angela once wished she could thank her by returning these affections. But after finding out how Magda treated Elliot and Darlene, she didn't want to.
"I wanted to talk to Elliot," Angela told her.
Magda's smile faded. "He's in his room." She stepped aside and let her in. Then she went to the living room and plopped down on the sofa, her gaze suddenly dull and tired.
"Okay, thank you," Angela murmured as she started up the stairs.
"Angela," Magda called.
She stopped and turned to her. "What is it?"
Magda blinked at her. "You're a good girl," she said in quite an odd tone, sounding as if she was trying to remind her.
Angela nodded in response, then climbed the stairs.
Magda had said that to her quite a few times over the years, usually out of the blue. Angela couldn't figure why she felt the need to say it so much. It was a nice complement at first. But it became a bit odd after a while. And sad, come to think of it. Had she ever told her own children that they were good?
Angela pushed away the depressing thought and knocked on Elliot's door. She knocked as lightly as she could, not wanting to spook him. She didn't know what state he was in after what he'd been through. "Elliot?" she called. "It's Angela. Are you—?" She broke off as the door swung open. Elliot stood there, looking drained and vaguely expectant. She waited for him to greet her but he remained silent. She began, "I just wanted to…" then immediately trailed off. There was a brownish mark on Elliot's temple. "Elliot," she sighed. She reached her hand towards his face.
Elliot tensed and took a step back from her, his gaze dropping to the floor. He felt bad for doing so; Angela was just trying to comfort him. But her touching the wound would only remind him of all the trouble he was in. He hadn't even looked at the bruise on his face, the one left by Brandon. Or the one left by his mother. The bruises on his hands he did his best to ignore. Over the years he'd grown tired of examining his wounds. It was a depressing affair, and a pointless one too. Most of his injuries healed themselves and faded away eventually.
Angela searched his face, gazing at him with a profound sadness. "Are you okay to talk?" she murmured the question.
Elliot nodded and let Angela into his room. She immediately sat down on his bed. Elliot hesitated a moment before sitting beside her. After That Saturday Night, they'd agreed that they wanted things to go back to normal. Elliot knew they were foolish to think it was even possible for things to be "normal" after that. He still felt a bit awkward around her at times. He wondered if she ever felt the same.
Angela took a deep breath. "Okay," she said evenly. "Tell me what happened."
Elliot stared at her and pondered how he should tell her. How would she react when he told her it was Brandon he'd fought? Just hearing his name was going to bring back all that trauma. There was no avoiding that. Should he tell her quickly? Yes, quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. That would do. Or would it? This was too much. There was already enough going on in his head. He could feel himself starting to space out.
Elliot was suddenly acutely aware of the way Angela looked at him. He recalled her tone when she'd spoken a few moments ago. She was so mature now. And here he thought she couldn't get any more attractive. A wave of depression washed over him. He was such a child compared to her. When was he going to grow up?
Angela sighed. "You're spacing out again." Elliot stammered, trying to form a coherent response, but she talked over him. "No, no, it's okay," she said gently. "You went through a lot last night. You probably need a rest." She pushed herself off the bed. "I'll just come ba—"
Elliot shot forward and caught her wrist, squeezing it a bit too tightly. "No," he said, finally able to speak. "Stay."
Angela looked at his hand, her brows crumpling together with distress. Now she'd seen the bruises on his knuckles. She nodded and sat down again.
Elliot breathed a sigh of relief. He scolded himself for acting like such a dope. He felt Angela touching his hand, the one that was still gripping her wrist. He let go of her, thinking that her touching him was just a silent plea for him to stop crushing her wrist. But Angela's hand followed his to where he'd placed it on his knee, and she brushed her fingertips over his bruised knuckles.
"Tell me what happened," Angela repeated, her voice soft.
Elliot steeled himself and looked her in the eye. He'd tell her quick. Band-Aid method. "It was Brandon," he told her.
Angela's mouth opened just a little, but she said nothing. She took a long, shuddering breath.
"He was saying…some disgusting shit."
Angela didn't even blink. "About what?"
Elliot hesitated. "Y-you. About you."
"What did he say?" Angela demanded, her expression instantly turning from pained to livid.
Elliot shook his head. He didn't want to tell her. What good would it do her to know? It was bad enough he was back in their lives. Angela needed to forget about him.
He's only back because of what you did! a voice in the back of his mind screamed. You can't control yourself! This is all your fault! You're hurting her!
Elliot chased those thoughts away. "Darlene says I shouldn't feel bad. She says he deserved it."
Angela's gaze was sharp. "Well, she's right," she murmured. "How does your mom feel about all this?"
Elliot sighed. "She's fucking pissed. She said she wants me out of the house."
Angela stared at him, an interesting mix of emotions swirling in her eyes.
Elliot stared back, wishing he was better at reading her. He was surprised when she began caressing his hand again. He hoped his eyes weren't betraying the chaos in his mind. A part of him really wanted her to stop touching him like that. Nothing was going to happen between them, so all this touching was borderline torture. Another part of him desperately wanted her to keep going. He'd take any affectionate touching he could get, especially from her.
"So what are the charges?" Angela asked.
Elliot shrugged. "Don't know yet."
Angela looked away from him. Elliot could tell she was deep in thought. What was she thinking about? He was quite curious. But mostly he felt some mild version of happiness, because she was still touching him.
After some time Angela hopped to her feet. She came to stand in front of Elliot, her hands grasping his shoulders. She was trying to look tough, but worry bled into her eyes. "Whatever happens," she said slowly, "you're going to be fine."
A vague and silly thing to say, especially considering she had no idea if that was the truth. Even so, in that moment, Elliot believed her. He nodded, then attempted to subtlety tilt his head away from her. Angela was awfully close to him. His face burned. He hoped she wouldn't linger there too long.
She let out a quiet sigh. "Elliot…"
He jerked his head up. Angela's eyes were glued to his right shoulder. He followed her gaze and finally saw the massive dark mark peeking out from under the sleeve of his tee.
"Brandon did this," Angela said, and it was almost a question.
Elliot was quiet just a moment too long. He saw the pained look in Angela's eyes. He didn't need to say anything. His silence had answered her almost question; she knew it was his mother that had hurt him.
Elliot was well aware that his mother had a certain fondness for Angela. He remembered how he couldn't stand watching his mother be so kind to her. He remembered the day he'd told his friend what his mother was really like. They hadn't known each other very long at that point. It was a lazy Saturday in late spring, one of the first warm days of the year. He and Darlene and Angela were at a park, if it could even be called that. It was a rather boring rectangle of grass with a few trees dotted around and a patch of unkempt bushes in one corner, surrounded by equally out of control pines.
Darlene was at that age where one was most commonly loud and obnoxious. Elliot and Angela were just a bit older, but well out of their obnoxious phases. Darlene was eternally bored, prone to fits of insanity if something, anything wasn't happening at all times to entertain her. Angela suggested, as she always did when no one else had any ideas, that they play tag. Her eyes were big and bright as she looked at Elliot. He regarded her warily.
In their games of tag, he was always it, and Angela never tagged him properly. Angela's way of "tagging" him was to wrap her arms around him and try to squeeze the life out of him. At the time Elliot had no idea what sickness had taken hold of her. Sometime later he realized it was just a bad case of puppy love.
For that particular game of tag, Darlene wasn't around to rescue him. Usually she'd pry Angela off of him, screaming about how she was being "grrrrrrrrross!" Darlene wasn't a big believer in cooties, but she was convinced that there existed a bug with a massive hook on its behind, which it used to stab into a person's brain and make them its slave. The bug could be easily passed between boys and girls who did "grrrrrrrrross!" things with each other. Elliot knew he should be a responsible big brother and tell her that that wasn't real. But her belief in the bug did save him from being hugged to death, so he stayed quiet…and occasionally outright encouraged her delusion. But that day, Darlene had wandered off in the middle of the game because she'd found something more interesting to do, and so she did not fulfill her duty of saving him from the dreaded hook-butt bug.
Elliot didn't try too hard to get away from Angela. The park was small, and it wasn't worth running out into traffic to escape her. Eventually he got tired and stopped to take a rest. He resigned himself to his fate. Two seconds later Angela had grabbed him.
"I got you!" Angela giggled as she squished him.
"Okay," Elliot mumbled. He didn't mind the hugs too much. They just went on a little too long. And they were a bit rough. He was distracted from Angela's crushing of his insides by his mother, who approached them with a shockingly bright expression. His mother was smiling. Actually smiling. Elliot had the sense that there was a slightly kinder person buried deep inside her, struggling to escape. He had seen her like this a few times before. He knew that that smile was not meant for him. It never had been.
His mother let out a small chuckle as she gazed at Angela. "You like hugging, don't you?"
"I like hugging Elliot!" Angela replied proudly, as though that were some sort of accomplishment.
Elliot's mother beamed. "I just wanted to let you know we'll be leaving soon, all right?"
"Yep!" Angela chirped.
Elliot watched his mom return to a far off bench. She'd not even acknowledged him. He knew all about the special attention she'd been giving his best friend. His chest burned with envy. What about him and his sister? She was never there when he cried himself to sleep. She never even simply asked how he was doing. For the last couple of years, his little sister had been throwing horrible and often frightening tantrums. His mother was nowhere to found during those, unless it was to scream at Darlene for being so loud or something much worse. She never showed them any kindness. Now Angela comes along, and suddenly she is capable of being a good mother? What about him? What about Darlene? They were her kids, not her. Elliot hated this. It was horrible. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.
"She hurts us," Elliot blurted.
Angela released him. "What?" she croaked.
Elliot couldn't look at her. It was a strain to admit something so awful. He forced himself to go on. "Sh-she hits me," he said. "And Darlene. And…and she does other stuff…" his voice broke. He worked hard to fight back tears; he wasn't about to cry in public like a baby. What did Angela think about all this? She was strangely quiet. Elliot turned to see that she was gone. He felt a burst of panic before remembering her hiding spot. He ran to it: the small patch of holly bushes in the ring of pine trees. He quickly crawled to its center, branches catching his shirt and poking his face. Elliot found Angela there, sitting with her knees pulled up to her face, crying her eyes out. As unnerved as he was by her loud, suffocating sobs, Elliot sat beside her, tentatively laying a hand on her shoulder. He was no good at comforting people, but at this crucial moment, he had to try. Especially since this was all his fault.
"It's okay," Elliot said, wishing his voice was less small and pathetic. And what a useless thing to say, too. Saying that things were okay did not make them okay. "Umm…m-my dad said it's okay to cry. It does stuff to your brain and makes you feel better."
"I hate her!" Angela cried. "I don't wanna talk to her anymore!"
Elliot felt heavy. "B-but she helps you feel better, right?"
"I don't care." Angela lifted her head and wiped the tears from her bright red eyes and cheeks. "I hate her."
Elliot blinked at her. He glanced at the bench where his mother sat, barely visible from this secret place. "We should go soon," he whispered. He did not want to rush her but as always he was wary of his mother. She'd be furious if she couldn't find them when it came time to leave.
Angela sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Let's just stay a little bit longer, okay?"
"Okay," Elliot agreed immediately, despite his worry. After several quiet moments, Elliot shifted closer to Angela and, gathering some courage, put his arm around her. He'd seen people do this when someone they cared about was sad. Still he fretted. Was this the right thing to do? Would this make her feel even a little bit better? He was surprised when Angela leaned against him. Perhaps he was doing something right after all. The two stayed like this for some time, still and silent. Then Angela wrapped her arms around him. Her hug was far gentler this time. Elliot didn't hesitate to hug her back.
"You're so nice," Angela murmured.
Elliot's guilt weighed on him for a long time after. He shouldn't have told Angela about his mother. She would have found out eventually, but there was the key word: eventually. Now that Angela knew the truth, she would avoid his mother at all costs. Because of him, she had no one to comfort her. Her father seemed to be of no help; Elliot often saw him plodding around Angela's house in a trance. Elliot had done something to comfort her today, but surely that had been something of a fluke. He really hoped she wouldn't come to depend on him. What a mistake that would be. Why couldn't he have let Angela be ignorant for just a little while longer, so she could accept his mother's kindness?
"What are you thinking about?" Angela's voice distracted him from his thoughts.
Elliot's face burned. How long had he been spacing out that time? "Nothing," he replied quickly.
Angela sighed in frustration. Elliot couldn't blame her for feeling the way she did. He wished he could just say how he was feeling. Say how sorry he was, confess that he was completely in l…Well, then again, she already knew all that, didn't she? But still, he'd never said any of it.
Elliot watched as, quite abruptly, her gaze softened.
"Listen," Angela said, "I've been meaning to…" she broke off with yet another sigh, though she was frustrated with herself this time.
Elliot slowly reached out to her and held her hand. He knew he shouldn't do things like that, but sometimes he forgot to stop himself.
Angela smiled faintly at the gesture. She shook her head and mumbled, "Never mind."
Elliot wondered what she'd been meaning to do or say. Angela pulled her hand out from under his. She promised him that she'd talk to him later. Then she left.
Elliot was once again left alone to ponder unpleasant matters. He'd brought Brandon back. Many years ago he'd taken a good person from her. Then there was everything he was. All the inadequacies, all the dark parts of him that too easily overrode anything good…
Yes, a part of me still wants something to happen between us. I think she feels the same way.
But you remember what I told you: she has shitty taste in men. I've known that for a long time.
I want her to be better. I want her to be with someone good.
That's why another part of me wants her to forget about me.