My dorm room feels like the saddest and loneliest place in the world. All the little touches I’d used to make it feel like home just make me feel pathetic. You can’t make a home with things. It’s created with people and relationships. It’s forged with love.
My eyes are swollen from the tears that I’ve shed, and tired from the hours of sleep lost while driving away from everything that has made me truly happy. My heart feels shredded and raw.
Above everything, I feel a massive sense of guilt. In a couple of hours, a household will wake to an empty guest room and a letter on the counter that will do nothing to mend the disappointment that my leaving without saying goodbye will cause.
I flop into bed with my clothes still on and pull my pillow over my head. I think about my dad and how disappointed he’ll be that I left without the hug that should have accompanied our separation. I think about Carson, Anderson, Brayson, and Jefferson and weep with longing for their strong bodies, their inspiring minds, and their kind hearts. The memories I made with them feel like torture to recall, but I can’t help myself. I want them so badly I don’t even know what to do. I curl my body until I’m in the fetal position and pray that sleep will take me to a place where it won’t hurt as much.
I dream of the lake; cool clear water surrounding me. My stepbrothers are sitting at the edge, surrounded by tall trees and grass that sways in the wind. I can see their smiling faces, and I try to move closer, but every step I take forward seems to move me further back. I struggle against an unseen current, but they get smaller and smaller until I can hardly see them at all. I stretch my hands out, desperate for them to come and get me. If only they could see how much I’m trying. I’m trying. I’m trying. Oh God, they’ll never know. They’ll forget I was there in the cool water, loving them, needing them. I’m like a leaf carried down a stream. The tree once needed that leaf, but as it falls, it’s forgotten. Other leaves take its place. I cry out their names, grab at the water, and push it behind me, but now I can’t see the lake’s bank, and I don’t know which way to move to shore. Water surrounds me, suddenly cold, and I’m shivering…
I’m jolted awake, the covers from my bed now on the floor, the sun streaming through the window of my room pulling me from the nightmare that I was so convinced was real. My eyes are dry and I can only open them a crack to check the time. It’s midday.
My cell phone is in my purse, and I reach for it, dreading that there will be missed calls from my dad, or worse from my stepbrothers. I don’t think I could bear to listen to either. There’s nothing, though, just a message from Maisie telling me to call her ASAP.
Even my best friend feels distant to me, the time we’ve been apart holding too much significance for a call to bridge, but I don’t want her to worry.
‘Hey,’ I say when she answers.
‘Sara, you’re okay.’ I hear the relief in her voice and feel immediately guilty. I’ve been too much of a stranger, and she has no idea why.
‘I’m back,’ I say. ‘I got back this morning.’
‘That’s early.
‘I know…I couldn’t stay any longer.’
Maisie pauses, but she doesn’t ask me why. Maybe she can tell from my tone that I’m not really up for talking over the phone. ‘Can I see you? We could grab lunch?’
I don’t have any supplies at home, so I’m going to have to go out to shop anyway. It will be hard to face her as she’s going to expect me to share everything about my summer, but I remember what Dad told me about facing fears. I’m scared to talk, but I need to be open with my feelings before they swamp me. I need to trust that my friend will support me rather than judge. ‘Sure. I’ll meet you at the pizza place?’
‘I could murder a pizza,’ she laughs. ‘See you in an hour?’
‘Sounds good.’
I go through the motions to get ready, peeling off my sleep-crumpled clothes, and taking a quick shower. My body still feels tender from when we went to the motel, the tips of my nipples red and soreness between my legs a reminder of a time that hurts my heart too. I wish I could forget them, but the thought of never having had our summer fling is too hard to bear. I just wish I could remember without wanting to cry.
Maisie is already there when I push open the door to the pizza place and is on her feet as I approach. She pulls me into a huge hug that makes my throat burn and then pulls back, holding my upper arms as she scans my face. ‘You need to tell me what’s smothered your sparkle, honey.’
‘I need pizza,’ I say. ‘And a giant coke, full fat!’
Her expression falls, the severity of the situation obvious from my order. She waves the waiter over as we take our seats in the red booth.
We order, and Maisie opts for cheesy garlic bread and deep-fried mozzarella sticks for the table. It’s going to be a massive meal but I don’t care if I gain a pound or two. No one is going to see this body for a long time. I’m shutting up shop until I feel like myself, no matter how long it takes.
‘So, what’s got you coming back early, honey?’
‘A lot,’ I say. I start at the beginning, taking each step of my summer vacation story slowly. It’s hard sometimes, and I stare at the table, and my hands when I can’t look at Maisie and talk. She squeals when she finds out about my fuck-buddy arrangement but seems to detect that something changed for me when it comes to sex. She holds my hand when I tell her about Steve and keeps hold of it when I tell her why I left.
‘But how do you know it couldn’t work out? Look at me and the J’s and K’s.’
‘Is that what you’re calling your stepbrothers?’ I ask, finally finding my laugh again.
‘It takes too long to recount all their names every time I’m talking about them as a group and just referring to them as my stepbrothers is getting tired. They’re so much more to me than that.’
‘Why not your lovers?’
Maisie shakes her head, taking a bite of the crispy mozzarella stick she’s plucked off the plate. ‘I don’t need to take people’s minds there. They already fixate on our sex life far too much. That would just tip everything over the edge.’
‘I get that,’ I laugh.
‘But you’re changing the subject, honey. From what you say, your stepbrothers seem to have stepped outside of your arrangement. Why are you so certain it couldn’t work?’
‘Do you remember how your stepmom reacted to your relationship?’
‘Yeah, but Janice isn’t normal.’
‘And my dad is sick.’
‘That does make things more challenging, but you said that he’s making good progress.’
‘He is.’
Maisie shrugs. ‘So why not wait a while? See how it goes. If you just cut yourself off now, you’ll never have a chance to find out if it could have been something more. You’ll waste this opportunity.’
‘I just…I can’t ever see it being okay, and I can’t risk my heart over something so uncertain…something that could hurt so many other people too.’
‘Well, if your stepbrothers feel the way you think they do, you’re hurting them right now. You’ve walked away from them without giving them a chance to tell you what they want. You’ve chosen to respond to your fears about the situation and put that first.’
Maisie’s right, of course. She always is, and suddenly my appetite is gone. I’ve let my fear of getting hurt lead me to hurt four men who deserve better. I’ve run away and put myself first, ignoring how that is going to affect the stepbrothers.
They started as fuck buddies but became so much more, supporting me through one of the most difficult times in my life. They tried to make me see that I deserved so much more than I’ve been allowing myself to have, and I rejected them all.
‘You know it’s not too late,’ Maisie says. ‘You could pick up the phone. You could tell them how you really feel.’
‘It’s too late,’ I say, wiping my hands on my napkin. ‘The damage has been done, and nothing will take that away.’
‘Hurt isn’t a permanent thing,’ Maisie says. ‘If it were, I’d never have seen past all the teasing the J’s and K’s put me through over the years. I’d never have allowed myself to forgive them for how it made me feel. They won’t hold any of this against you, honey. You have to know that. Not if they love you. Not if they feel half of what you feel for them.’
‘I’m scared,’ I say, the admittance sending a blush over my cheeks and a wave of mortification through my soul.
‘I know you are, sweetie. But we all are to a certain extent. Everyone has a voice of doubt inside them. It’s there to protect us from the negatives we’ve experienced before, and to a certain extent that’s good, but we can’t let it stop us from taking chances, or we’ll never move forward…we’ll never grow.’ She pats my hand. ‘You don’t want to stay like this forever, do you? I mean, having casual relationships when you’re young is fun, especially if that’s all you want, but when you’re twenty-five, or thirty? Can you see yourself doing the same thing and feeling fulfilled? And I’m not just talking sexually. I’m talking about emotions.’
‘I don’t feel emotions. Not like other people.’ I tell Maisie that my mom passed away and about how remote it all felt to me, even at her funeral.
‘Honey, I’m sorry that you went through all that by yourself. You can’t think that what happened with your mom makes you an unfeeling person. That isn’t the case at all. You didn’t bond properly with your mom, and that was her fault, not yours. No child chooses that. The deficiency was something she created, so when she died, your lack of feeling about it was because of her, not because of you.’
I slump back in my seat, as Maisie’s words wash over me. In my mind’s eye, I see myself at the graveside, dressed in black but without genuine sadness. I’m not an adult in my memory but a child. A sad child who always wanted more from her mom but never got anything except the bare minimum.
‘Do you see, Sara? Whether you’re ready to do this now or in the future, you need to forgive yourself for all the pain the relationship between you and your mom caused you, and you need to find a way to put the fear of it happening again aside. That’s the only way you’re going to feel okay about moving on with your life and forming happy, healthy relationships.’
I nod, the words to respond not forming easily. Sometimes the truth can be a calming balm, and other times it can cut us like a knife. What I’ve realized is that I need the truth to hurt so I can wake up. Maisie knows that because she knows me better than I know myself.
‘I think I need to see a counselor,’ I say.
Maisie nods. ‘The school has one. We can find out their details. I think it would be really good for you, whatever you choose to do about your stepbrothers.’
I’ve never believed I could change the way I feel about life, but Maisie’s made me understand that it’s possible. Dad told me I need to face my fears. As a tribute to him, I’m going to do just that.
