Friday October 4th
12:45am
"Hello?" I heard Phoebe's voice directly in my ear for the first time in months. A familiar melody that both soothed and tormented me.
Hello my angel. It's so nice to hear your voice again. How I've missed you.
"Hello?" Phoebe said again, her voice tinged with a hint of confusion.
You don't know how much I have missed you. How have you been? I pleaded, the words a desperate whisper caught in my throat.
"Hello is anyone there?" Phoebe asked, her patience beginning to fray.
I've been good, but let's cut to the chase. When are you going to put an end to this foolishness? I thought, a surge of anger mixing with the longing. Anger at the situation and anger at myself. I slammed the receiver back onto the cradle with a satisfying bang and cracked open another beer. The cold aluminum felt good in my hand, but the numbing effect I sought was still elusive. The can was empty far too soon. I shoved two more quarters into the payphone, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet emptiness of my despair.
The phone on the other end began to ring, a shrill, insistent sound that seemed to claw at my already frayed nerves. It rang three times before I heard her voice again.
"Hello?" Phoebe said, her tone starting to sound less confused and more annoyed. This was no longer a playful call. It was a nuisance, and I was the source.
I love you, I couldn't bring myself to say the words out loud.
"Hello?" Phoebe said again, her voice sharper now.
Please baby, just give me another chance. I promise I have changed, I pleaded. I ended the call again, the metallic click of the receiver a harsh punctuation mark in my silent turmoil.
Can't this girl see I'm suffering without her? I'd been reduced to this – a pathetic figure calling her from a dirty payphone outside a liquor store. All just so I could hear her voice. I downed two more beers, the liquid fire burning a path down my throat, temporarily distracting me from the deeper ache. I was starting to feel wobbly, but I still had one more left in the pack. I wasn't going home until it was gone. I shakily dialed her number again, my fingers clumsy and uncoordinated.
It only rang twice this time before she picked up.
"Hello?" Phoebe said, her voice tight with anger.
I need you right now baby. Please, please just talk to me, I implored silently, the words a desperate plea for connection.
"Look whoever this is, you need to stop calling my phone!" Phoebe yelled, her voice rising in frustration.
You're the only one who understands, baby. Please just take me back. I need you so badly, I thought, desperate and clinging to the belief that we belonged together.
"Call this number again and I'm calling the cops!" Phoebe sounded scared and angry, her voice cracking with fear. The impact of her words finally cut through the haze of alcohol. I was scaring her.
Why won't you just love me?! The question a scream inside my head. The dial tone filled my ears, the line cut, another connection broken.
I winced as I pressed my last beer to the left side of my head. The metallic chill of the can seared against the throbbing knot that had formed on my temple. Each little pulse of pain was a reminder of the fist that had landed there. The condensation on the beer can, now lukewarm, was a weak attempt at soothing the agony, but it was all I had. It was a dull, sickening ache that seemed to resonate with the turmoil inside me.
I couldn't even conjure up the image of what had triggered Dad this time. It was a blur of yelling, the familiar scent of his stale whiskey breath, then the sudden, sharp impact. It didn't matter. The details were interchangeable. I was the designated target, the punching bag always at his disposal.
Better me than Timberly. I thought bitterly. I'd always be her wall, standing between her and the storm that was our father. But for Mom... that was a different story. Let her take the hits. She chose this, this life with him. Dumb bitch. She had the option to leave but she chose to stay so she could deal with her own shit.
I drained the last of the lukewarm beer, the metallic tang leaving a foul taste. I hit Phoebe's number again, my thumb hovering over the dial screen. Straight to voicemail. A wave of disappointment washed over me but I did expect this. Deep down a part of me knew that she was better off far away from this mess. Maybe this was the best. It's gotta be for the best.
Dad was probably passed out on the couch by now, snoring loud enough to rattle the thin walls. I started down the alley, a ghost in the dying light. The city air clung to me, thick with the smell of exhaust and garbage. I finished the beer, the empty can clattering onto the concrete as it left my grip. I probably looked like a walking disaster, a drunk staggering through the shadows. But who was there to see? Who cared anymore? No one.
I scaled the fire escape with a practiced ease, the metal groaning under my weight. I was careful to be quiet not to wake up Dad. I slipped through my bedroom window, immediately spotting her. Timberly was curled in my bed, clutching my worn-out body pillow like it was a lifeline. A rush of warmth flooded my chest at the sight of her. I did a quick check over her, scanning her for any trace of pain. Her face was smooth and unmarred, no purpling on her arms, nothing that screamed "Dad." A dark, primal rage flared up at the thought of him even grazing her skin. The day he lays a finger on her, I thought, the vow echoing in my mind, is the day he dies.
I stripped down to my boxers and an old black t-shirt, the fabric cool against my skin. Then carefully, I slid into bed next to my sister. She stirred and snuggled closer, a small sigh escaping her lips. Even though everything else had crumbled around me, even though my world was a broken thing, I still had Timberly. She was the only light left in this darkness, the only thing worth fighting for.
"Where were you?" Timberly whispered. The nighttime peace was shattered, and the weight of her concern hung heavy in the air.
"Go back to sleep," I responded as softly as I could.
A long silence followed, a pause that stretched on for an eternity. I thought I had succeeded in placating her, in convincing her to drift back into slumber. But her voice returned, small and worried, tinged with a note of fear that struck deep into my heart.
"You smell like Dad."
The words filled me with a sinking feeling, the weight of the accusation pressing down upon me. I didn't want to be like him, I never had. I turned my back to her, unable to meet her gaze, unwilling to let her see the truth in my eyes.
"I know." Her words echoed in my mind, haunting me as I tried to escape the reality of the situation. I was a reflection of him.
"Gerald...I don't like it when you do this...when you go out drinking all night. You're not supposed to be like him." The fear in her voice, the tremble that lingered beneath the surface, broke my heart. I couldn't bear to see her scared, to know that my actions were causing her pain.
I sighed, a heavy exhalation that filled the room with a cloud of regret. I turned back to face her, my eyes meeting her own, filled with a mix of fear and disappointment.
"I'm nothing like him, Tim. Now get some sleep, you have school in the morning."
I tucked the blanket around her, ensuring she was warm and safe. I watched as her eyelids fluttered closed, listened as her soft snores filled the room. I lay there, staring at the clock, the minutes ticking by as I tried to escape the reality of my situation.
It was almost one in the morning, and the journal sat on my desk, waiting for me. Mocking me. Daring me to confront the truth, to face the demons that lingered in my past.
Journal Entry
The Monday after Rhonda's party slammed into me like a brick wall. I walked into school, expecting the usual hallway chaos, but it was different. All eyes were on me. Murmurs followed me like a shadow. I quickly realized I was the main topic of junior class gossip. Gerald Johanssen, Mr. Popularity, had just made waves – tidal waves, really – by becoming the boyfriend of Phoebe Heyerdahl, the school's undisputed champion of academic prowess. Let's be clear, nobody actively disliked Phoebe. She was quiet, yes, maybe a little too dedicated to her studies, but mostly she flew under the radar. The shock came from my side of the equation. It was like everyone suddenly woke up and realized that I, Gerald Johanssen, after what seemed like a lifetime of being Mr. Cool, had finally grown a pair and actually asked her out.
It was strange, walking down the hall with Phoebe by my side. It was like I was suddenly seeing the school from a different angle. People who usually gave me a nod in passing were now giving me these almost comical, disbelieving looks. But here's the thing: my friends, the people who actually mattered, surprised me. They accepted Phoebe with open arms, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was almost like we were in the fourth grade again, back on the playground where things were simpler.
Our group wasn't that big, really. Just the guys: Arnold, steady as always, Lorenzo, with his cool, easy vibe, Iggy, our resident goofball, Peapod Kid, a little shy, and Park, the quiet observer. And the girls: Rhonda, our fashion-forward leader, Nadine, always ready with a witty retort, Lila, sweet and sometimes naive, and Gloria, with her big personality and even bigger heart. Oh, and Stinky. Stinky hung out with us sometimes too, mostly because he was glued to Gloria. I still can't wrap my head around that pairing, but whatever works, I guess.
The cafeteria hummed with the usual chaotic symphony of clattering trays, boisterous chatter, and the occasional shriek of laughter. I leaned back in my chair, watching as Rhonda, her eyes sparkling with amusement, addressed the group. "Well, I think it's just lovely that you two have finally admitted your feelings for each other," she declared, her voice dripping with a knowing tone. A sly smile played around her lips as she glanced at Phoebe, who instantly flushed a delicate shade of pink. Phoebe had reluctantly agreed to join me and his friends at our usual lunch table, and the spotlight was making her visibly uncomfortable. I, on the other hand, found her blushing endearing, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth as I watched her.
"Oh yes, I am ever so certain that you two make a cute couple," Lila chimed in, her voice a melodious sweetness that usually bordered on saccharine. Her smile, however, seemed genuinely happy for them.
Nadine, never one to be left out of the relationship discussion, piped up. "Well I don't know about that. I think Peapod Kid and I are pretty cute together," she said, snuggling up to her boyfriend, whose face instantly turned a shade of red to rival a tomato. The conversation immediately devolved into a lighthearted debate over who was the cutest couple, a topic I tuned out, finding it repetitive and frankly, not very interesting. I was much more interested in the girl sitting next to me.
Phoebe, who had been quietly trying to disappear into the pages of her book, seemed to notice that the conversation was no longer about her, allowing her to relax ever so slightly. I reached forward, gently taking the book from her grasp. "Phoebe baby, you shouldn't have your head in a book all the time. Besides, you're with me, you can read later." I spoke in a tender tone, giving her a sweet smile.
Phoebe's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and exasperation. "Gerald, that's The Canterbury Tales! I need to read it for my AP English Language class." Her voice was a slightly panicked whisper.
I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "You worry too much, baby. It's only the fourth week of school. You can't have that much to study already." I pulled her towards me, my arm wrapping possessively around her shoulders, and kissed the side of her head, a gesture meant to soothe her ruffled feathers.
Phoebe was about to voice her protest when a lunch tray slammed down on the table next to her, startling everyone at the table. "Hey Geraldo, the lady said she had to study. You got a problem with that?" Everyone turned to see Helga, her brow furrowed in her usual scowl, glaring down at me. Her presence was like a sudden storm cloud eclipsing the sunshine.
My jaw clenched. "No, but I do got a problem with you, get lost, Pataki." I tightened my grip around Phoebe's waist, a subtle declaration of ownership. Helga was always trying to cause problems.
"It's a free country, I can sit wherever the hell I want," Helga retorted, plopping down next to Phoebe with a loud thud.
"Uh, no, Helga, we don't want you to sit with us. Go sit with your loser friends," Rhonda said, her voice dripping with disdain as she waved her hand towards Brainy and Curly at a nearby table.
Helga, with a mouth full of food, shot her a mocking grin. "What's the matter, princess? Am I cramping your style?" She chewed loudly, clearly delighting in the discomfort she was causing.
Lila offered Helga a disgusted look. "Oh Helga, that's not very polite." Ever the proper one, Lila could not understand Helga's lack of decorum.
Helga responded by flipping Lila off, her action a testament to her utter disdain for social niceties. The small gesture was lost on no one.
Nadine, her patience finally wearing thin, scowled. "Come on, you guys, let's go eat out on the quad. There's obviously too much trash in here." She was clearly referring to Helga, and her tone made no attempt to hide her feelings.
As the group got up, I looked down at Phoebe. She was staring at her untouched lunch, her shoulders slumped slightly. "You coming, Phoebe?" I held out my hand for her, trying to ease her discomfort. She bit her lip hesitantly.
Helga, surprisingly, spoke up in a sarcastic tone, "Go on, Phoebe, go be with your boyfriend, I understand." Her voice dripped with bitterness, her eyes never meeting Phoebe's, before storming off to join Brainy and Curly.
I pulled Phoebe up and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips, hoping the loving gesture would help her relax. "Hey, are you okay?" I asked softly, searching her eyes for any sign of distress.
"Yeah, I just, well…when do you think you and Helga can work out your problems?" She asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.
I rolled my eyes. "Pataki and I are made to hate each other, baby. We will never get along." I couldn't imagine ever being on good terms with Helga. Never.
"Well, do you think you can at least try? I don't want my boyfriend and my best friend hating each other," she said, her voice filled with sadness.
I sighed heavily, but gave her a small, genuine smile. "Okay, just for you. I will try and be friendly with that she-beast." Phoebe punched me gently in the arm, a small smile gracing her lips, and I laughed. "Okay, okay. I will be nicer, I promise. Now let's go join the others before they think I've locked you in a broom closet or something." I took her backpack, slinging it over my other shoulder, and we walked out to the quad, hand in hand.
The next few weeks were a strange mix of awkward moments and forced smiles. I didn't know what Phoebe had said to Helga, but whatever it was, she had interpreted it as an all-access pass into my life. I had promised Phoebe that I would be nice, but Helga knew exactly how to push my buttons. She was rude, flamboyant, opinionated, and just a downright bitch! It was embarrassing to even be seen with her. I wasn't sure what Phoebe saw in her. I found it hard to believe they were actually friends.
"Listen up, Gerald, I know Phoebe is your girlfriend and all, but Helga has to go," Rhonda said, her voice hard and clipped as she cornered me and Arnold in the hallway one morning. Her patience had finally run out. We had been enduring Helga's outrageous behavior for the past few weeks, and Rhonda, the queen bee, had finally had enough. "Now I like Phoebe, but if it means Helga will forever be tagging along, you're going to have to cut her loose." Rhonda crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for my response.
Arnold, with a weary sigh, agreed. "I'm going to have to agree with Rhonda, Gerald. I've been quiet about the whole thing because Phoebe is pretty cool, but Helga is...too rough around the edges. I can't even think straight when she's around," he said with a shiver, recalling how loud Helga could be when she laughed.
I nodded, a mix of frustration and resignation settling over me. "Okay, I was only letting Helga stick around as a favor to Phoebe, but I will have a talk with her." I knew it was the right thing to do, even if it meant upsetting Phoebe in the process.
"Excellent," Rhonda said, a triumphant smile gracing her face. "I expect her to be out of our hair by tomorrow."
The afternoon sun beat down on the car, turning the interior into a humid greenhouse. We were parked outside of her house, but I was not ready to let her go. We were locked in a childish contest, seeing just how quickly we could turn the windows into opaque murals of condensation. But beneath that playful veneer, a raw, animalistic desire thrummed through me. Seeing her confined within the close space of my beat-up sedan, the familiar contours of her body outlined against the pale blue of her tank top, ignited a hunger I couldn't ignore. The way the soft fabric clung to each curve, a subtle dance between revealing and concealing, was intoxicating. And then there were those denim shorts, a perfect length that showcased her slender, toned legs—legs I desperately wanted to trace with my hands. My girlfriend was undeniably hot, and I was a teenage boy ruled by urges. Every inch of her, from the curve of her neck to the hem of her shorts, was an open invitation.
"Mmm, Gerald, can you slow down?" Phoebe's voice was a soft whimper, lost in the growing intensity. She shifted slightly, trying to create some distance, but I was relentless. My fingers, emboldened by desire, crept from her side, inching up the smooth skin of her flat stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I could feel her tense beneath my touch. "Gerald, just wait a second," she said, her voice now breathy, almost a plea. I felt the pulse quicken under my fingertips in response, and it fueled me, urging me to press further. My hand, now burning, went to cup her breast, the soft curve fitting perfectly in my palm as if made for this very moment. "Gerald!" she exclaimed, pushing my hand away. Her tone wasn't angry, more like a startled animal caught in headlights.
"What?" I gasped, the abrupt rejection leaving me breathless, my senses suddenly registering the shift in the air.
"I think we should slow down a little," she said, her voice still a little shaky, as she reached down to adjust her tank top, the motion pulling the fabric further from her skin, creating a frustrating gap between us. She glanced at me, a mixture of sheepishness and nervousness in her usually bright eyes.
"Why? Don't you find me attractive?" I felt the need to assert myself, my ego bruised by her resistance. Placing my hand possessively on her thigh, my fingers lightly caressed her smooth skin, willing her to see the same desire I felt.
"I do, of course I do," she assured me, but her voice was tinged with unease. "But we just started dating… don't you think we're moving a little fast?" Her eyes pleaded for understanding, but I was too caught up in my own frustration to reciprocate.
I pulled my hand away, sulking. "Other girls wouldn't think I was moving too fast," I mumbled, the words coming out bitter and childish, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.
"Excuse me?" Her voice was sharp, tinged with hurt, her eyes narrowing as she focused on me, making my chest clench. I saw in that moment a flicker of something I hadn't registered before; a deep seated vulnerability I was on the verge of shattering. I didn't care.
"Nothing," I muttered, turning my face to the window, a stubborn pout forming on my lips. The joy of the afternoon had vanished and been replaced by bitter disappointment, like a child missing out on the candy they so desperately wanted.
"Do you want to date other girls?" Her voice was soft now, a fragile question that hung in the air between us. A lump formed in my throat, a strange mixture of guilt and indignation. I knew I didn't want to, but the thought of admitting that felt like a weakness, like giving in to her perceived control.
Maybe so. I scoffed inwardly. "Ha, yeah right. You know I don't." I leaned forward, my hands cupping her face, and kissed her forehead. "I just thought I was your boyfriend," I said, a hint of hurt tinging my tone.
Phoebe melted at the gesture, a smile gracing her lips as she reached up to kiss me gently on the lips. "You are my boyfriend, Gerald, but I just don't want to ruin our relationship by getting physical too fast. Helga said she would kill me if she found out I gave it up so soon." Her words were playful, but I hated that she was being dictated by someone else. I hated that Helga Pataki always seemed to be hovering around us.
I practically recoiled, pulling myself back against my seat. "You always listen to whatever Pataki says?" My frustration boiled over again, the mention of Helga's name triggering a surge of anger.
"Gerald, please don't start this," she sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. She looked worn down.
"Start what? You can't do anything without Helga giving you the okay," I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. It was more than just frustration now, it was resentment, a deep-seated hatred for the hold Helga seemed to have over Phoebe.
"It's not like that and you know it. She's been my best friend since like forever," Phoebe's voice was strained, her tone pleading with me to understand.
"Yeah, and I'm your boyfriend now. But fuck whatever I want, as long as Helga is happy," I retorted, the bitterness evident in my tone. I couldn't help but feel like my wants and desires were secondary to her friendship with Helga.
"Gerald… why can't you and Helga just get along?" she asked, her voice small and tinged with a hint of despair, her eyes welling slightly.
"I'm trying, baby, I really am, but it's never going to happen. Can't you see that Helga is just trying to break us up?" The words tumbled out in a rush, a desperate plea for her to see the truth, the truth I had convinced myself was real.
Phoebe looked taken aback, her eyes widening with shock. "Helga wouldn't do that, Gerald," she said, her voice wavering slightly, a visible crack in the wall she kept up.
"Yes, she would! She hates me and hates the fact that I'm dating you. I don't know if I can take this anymore." My words were harsh, I knew, but the frustration was a physical weight on my chest.
"What are you saying?" I heard her swallow, the sound amplifying the gravity of my words. There was a tremor to her voice, a hint of panic.
"Either she stops hanging around all the time, or…or I don't think we can make this work," I declared, crossing my arms over my chest. This was it, my ultimatum.
Tears began to rim her eyes, they shimmered like crystal, threatening to spill over at any moment. "You're breaking up with me?" she whispered, the words barely audible, and the weight of them landed on me like a physical blow. I hadn't meant to go that far. I hadn't wanted to break up with her. But the thought of always fighting with Helga, of never being able to truly connect with Phoebe without her interference was too much to bear. Helga was toxic for our relationship. She had to go.
"You want to know why Stinky and Gloria don't hang out with us at school?" I began. "Stinky just doesn't fit. Yeah, the man's alright," I conceded, with a slight shrug of my shoulder, "but he's a country-ass football player. Having him around would just drag our group's credibility down, you know?" I shifted my weight, making eye contact with her to emphasize my point. "You, Phoebe, you fit in seamlessly. But Helga? No, she's a different story."
My hand reached for hers, my touch meant to be comforting, but there was a hard undercurrent to my words. "You have to choose, Phoebe," I said, the words feeling like a weight in my mouth. "It's me, or her?" Her lack of an immediate reply fueled my anxiety, and I continued to push. "You can be with me and my friends, experiencing all the fun, getting invited to all the parties that Helga wouldn't be caught dead at. You can have a normal, high school life, no more Pataki baggage. Or, you can go sit with her and that group of drama geeks at lunch, listen to her bitch and moan to anyone who will listen. It's your choice, Phoebe. But you can't have both."
Phoebe's eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a mixture of confusion and hurt. Had I gone too far? I thought, a fleeting moment of doubt. No, I pushed back internally. I was just fighting for our relationship, right? I had a right to that, right?
"Helga's my best friend, Gerald," she finally said, her voice soft but firm. "I can't just abandon her." She let out a heavy sigh, a puff of air that seemed to carry her frustration. "Can I still see her when you're not around? You know, like weekends and stuff?"
My face broke into a smile. A feeling of relief washed over me. I draped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Of course, baby," I said, "But just know I expect to be with you a lot more now." I lowered my voice, trying to be seductive. "I can't even think straight when you are away from me."
Phoebe smiled, her cheeks flushed, and leaned closer. "Really?" She tilted her head, giving me that look, those eyes that never failed to spark something in me, but not now. Her breath warmed my ear as she began to nibble on my earlobe. I didn't feel anything. The girl, who I was so eager to touch, just moments ago, elicited zero desire. I pushed her away gently, grabbed her arms, and kissed her deeply, trying to fake the passion I no longer felt.
"You should go on inside now," I said, pulling back, feeling strangely distant. "I'm sure you have a lot of studying to do, and I need to get to boxing practice." I reached out, moved a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture that felt hollow now.
She looked taken aback, her eyebrows slightly raised. "Oh, yeah, okay." She gave me a quick peck on the lips. "I'll see you in the morning," she said, her voice a little subdued as she hurried out of the car and up the steps to her porch.
The next morning, Phoebe found her locker overflowing with dozens of her favorite flowers, yellow tulips. A grand gesture, meant to show her how much she meant to me, and also to serve as a reminder of where she belonged. After that, I saw a lot less of Helga. Sure, Helga might try to steal some time on the weekends, but during the week, things were different. Phoebe's afternoons were filled with dates with me, whether it was trips to the movies or hanging out at Slausen's for ice cream. Soon, she even started studying at the gym while I was boxing, a convenient way for us to be together without her having to justify her actions.
Even if Phoebe missed Helga, she blended effortlessly into my world, laughing with my friends, making her feel like she was part of something important. That was what truly mattered; her happiness, the one I was orchestrating, of course. I wanted her to understand that ending her friendship with Helga was the only logical decision. What could I say? I knew what was best for her, and, I was never wrong and I was going to prove it, to her, to me and to everyone.