Every Rose (28 page)

He grabs me hard and holds on to me as though his life depends on it. “Ah…God. I’m so sorry, Lorraina. So sorry,” he mumbles over and over again.

“Ssh,” I tell him. “It’s going to be OK. Whatever that was. It’s going to be OK.”

He pulls back and gazes at me. “How can you say that after what I said to you? After I fucking choked that guy for touching you?”

My pulse quickens as I remember how scary that was. “I’ll admit. It was a little extreme. Have you ever done that before? Lost it like that?”

“Yes.”

“I take it that the fight with
him
was like that.”

“Yes, that was the last time.”

“Great, so all your anger revolves around me,” I mutter petulantly.

“Huh? I never thought it about like that, but you’re not the only reason I’ve snapped. Please don’t think that. It’s definitely my problem. Not yours.”

“Ours,” I state. He looks at me questioningly. “
Our
problem. We’ll figure it out. I’ll admit that was pretty scary, but that’s not who you are Michael.”

“I just kept waiting for you to turn around and smack that guy. When you didn’t, I just got so mad. I was across the room before I even realized it.”

“Well, I kinda froze. For a moment, I thought it was you. Then, I was like what the hell do I do about this. When I turned around to defend myself, it was too late. I’m sorry that you misunderstood.”

“Please don’t apologize to me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I run my fingertips over his tear-softened lashes, trying to dry his eyes and fulfill the desire I’ve had since the very beginning. I love that I can touch him so freely. “Have you ever tried to get help for your anger, Michael?”

“No, not really. I thought I had it under control.”

“Well, I think you need help dealing with it. Do you think you could ask Father Patty about how to go about getting some help? I know you trust him.”

“Yeah, I think so.” He loses himself in thought for a moment. “Ya know, I’ve very effectively avoided the source of my anger for so long that I really didn’t think that would happen again.”

“Your dad?” I guess.

“Yep, I can’t even talk to him anymore. When I see him, we argue automatically. Now that I’m grown our fights aren’t pretty, so I stay away. I visit my mom when I know he won’t be there, or only when others will be around to take the sting out of his comments.”

“I’m so sorry, Michael. I wish he could see what I see,” I whisper.

His voice comes out at barely a whisper when he admits,
“I think he does. I think that’s why he hates me. He thinks I’m weak.”

I’m across the car and in his lap before he can protest. I throw my leg over his and catch his face with my hands and kiss him into what I hope is complete and utter oblivion. I know I’m thinking of nothing but how good he tastes, how good he smells, how good he is.

I wrap my arms around his head and kiss him harder and faster until I’m completely lost. I feel his hands come around my bottom as he pulls me into him. I get immediate confirmation that my attempts to distract him have been successful. I pull my lips back slightly and against his murmur, “Take me upstairs to your bed, please.”

He groans and slides down from his Jeep with me attached to his front. I wrap my legs around him as he carries me towards the hotel. I glance around and assure we are alone. I tighten my legs around him. He groans again. “See how strong you are,” I tell him. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

……………………………………............................

My three days were up so fast. Other than our little blip our second night, it was perfection. It’s just how I imagine our life together: simple, sweet, wonderful. Saying goodbye to him hurt so badly. I hated it. I never want to have to say goodbye to him again. These next two months were going to kill us.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Regaining My Tomorrow

I pull into my parents’ front yard and kill my engine. I would’ve driven straight to his apartment, but it’s thirty miles further and I’m practically running on fumes with no money to rectify that little inconvenience. Furthermore, I’m a little nervous to see him. I haven’t spoken to him in almost two weeks and that’s got me really freaked out. I think I may have screwed things up between us, but then I remind myself that I was meant to be with him, made to be with him. We’ve just hit a rough patch because of school, but everything is going to be fine.

I survey the yard and realize that all the vehicles are absent and the porch light is on. I guess my family is out. I was really hoping to get some money from Joe for gas and head to Michael’s. I guess that will have to wait.

I pull myself out of my car. I’m exhausted, and I need a shower. My euphoria over graduating has finally passed, leaving me completely drained. I smile as I remember Ms. Elise giving me grief over not walking, but if Michael couldn’t be there what was the point? More importantly, it got me home five days earlier.

I throw my stuff on the floor and myself on the bed, kicking my shoes off as I stretch out for a minute. I pick up my phone to call him again, but my fingers hesitate over the buttons. I let the receiver drop on my chest for a minute and recall our last conversation and the many messages I’d left him since. We didn’t really have a fight per say, but it was awkward. I’d had to make him understand how important my last few weeks of school were. I was struggling to maintain my GPA. It had dropped as a direct result of the amount of time I spent daydreaming over him, which was in direct correlation to the amount of time I spent talking to him.

I asked him if we could set up times to talk so that I could try to refocus. I joked that it would be reminiscent of when we were back in school and our talks were forbidden. I knew he wasn’t crazy about it, but he acted like it was fine and that he understood. When I called for our first scheduled talk, he didn’t answer. I’d left so many messages since then, each one increasing in desperation. I was completely freaked out by the time it was time to head home. I kept reassuring myself that we didn’t come this far to lose each other over something so trivial.

I hear the incessant blaring of the phone being off the hook and realize I never did dial a number. I hang it up for a second and dial Ginny’s number instead. I’ve been so tempted to call and tell her all about Michael. Now that I need her advice, I realize that’s exactly what I should do. I need someone to confide in.

I get her on the phone immediately. I take this as an auspicious sign. “I need to talk to you about Michael Bang,” I blurt out almost immediately.

“Oh, I know. I’m so glad you called,” she inserts.

“Is everything OK?” She sounds weird. My problems fly out of my head.

“Well, I wanted to call you as soon as I’d heard but figured it would probably be better if we didn’t talk about it while you were trying to finish up classes.” I’ve never heard her sound so flustered before.
Heard what?

“Ginny, what did you hear? You sound weird.”

“Well, I just don’t want to upset you because I could tell you cared about him and all; but I’m glad you want to talk about it.”

It? Michael? Does she already know about me and Michael? From what I understand there are only three people who know all about us and none of them interact with anyone I know. “Talk about what exactly?” I ask still confused.

“Well, Mike, sweetie,” she says almost impatiently.

I sigh. “You do know? I’m sorry that I wasn’t the one to tell you.”

“It’s OK. I only heard about it a few days ago. I couldn’t believe it. So young and so tragic.”

My entire body tenses. I sit up abruptly. “What do mean by that, Ginny?” My voice sounds sharp.

“I just mean it’s a such a shame. He seemed to be getting his life together from everything I’ve heard, and it’s just so unfair. And the way his parents treated the whole thing. Hardly even telling anyone and all. I know you saw his cards at Mona’s, but did you ever catch up with him while you were home last?”

My mind is completely blank I can’t really focus on what she’s saying, but I know it’s important. “Ginny, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” I start shaking my head and realize that I’m biting my lip so hard it hurts.
Is he hurt or in jail or what?

“What?
! Lorraina, did you not hear about Mike? Mike Bang, sweetie. Your friend…” I say nothing and she continues even though something screams inside of me to tell her to shut up. “He died.”

A slight moan escapes me. “No, no.” I’m back to shaking my head and biting my lip.

“Oh, Lorraina. I’m sorry. I had no idea you hadn’t heard. What did you want to talk about him for then?”

“What happened?” I ask automatically, ignoring her question.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, something went down at his parents’ house and Mike left upset. He lost control of his car just a mile from their home and died on impact.”

My room suddenly feels vacuous. I hear her talking but can’t make out any of the words. I open my mouth to speak, to say anything. Nothing comes out. After a minute of her rambling, I cut in, “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” I hang up, not even sure if she said goodbye.

Oh my God…Oh my God.
There has to be some mistake. I look around my room for some indication that this isn’t real, and I barely even recognize where I am. It all seems…foreign. A moment ago it was like I was in a vast tunnel. Now, I feel the room constricting upon me and I can’t breathe.

Nope, no, no. There’s no way he’s gone, I tell myself.
It has to be some kind of mistake. Ginny seemed sure, though. I stand up woodenly and grab my keys. I walk out to my car and move to get in it. As my hand reaches for the door, I remember I don’t have any gas. I chunk my keys at the door. I hear a shriek and realize that I’m pulling at my hair. I have to get out of here. I have to figure out what’s going on.

I look around wildly for some means of escape. Nothing. I turn from my car and start walking. Then I’m running. I run through our yard and throw myself over the fence and take off through the pasture. When I reach the other side, I bend to cut through the bobbed wire fence. As I do, I feel the welcome pain of the pointed metal scraping down my back. It doesn’t slow me down.

When I reach the edge of the woods, I dart in the trees and rest my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I feel myself gagging, and I succumb to wracking dry heaves. I wish I could throw up. Maybe I would feel better.

I have to…I have to…I need someone to talk to about this. I need to figure out what happened. I grab for some brush to steady myself and end up shredding it with my hands. I scream and howl. I did this to myself. I have no one. No one. I try to calm myself. There has to be a better way.

When my breathing finally slows, I realize that I’m crying profusely. It feels as though my entire body is sobbing, so I just sink. Sink to the ground. Sink into madness. Sink into sweet oblivion.

…………………………………..………..................

I open my eyes and am greeted by the darkest of night. I blink hard and look around for a moment, trying to figure out where I am. Oh. Yeah, I’m in our woods. I roll onto my back and will myself to get up. I can’t lie out her all night. I need to find out exactly what is happening with Michael. I bring my hands up to rub some warmth into my face and arms. It’s cold out here, which is weird. I hear a distorted, distant laugh.
Why am I thinking about the weather?

I pull myself up and start walking. I realize very quickly that I don’t have on any shoes because my feet are stinging.
Damn! That hurts!
I love it. It forces me to consider what is happening right now instead of focusing on...I can’t even think it. My path back to the house is much slower than the one to the woods.

I walk up the little sidewalk in front of our house and glance up at the moon. It’s almost midnight and my family still isn’t home.

After I get into the bathroom, I flip the light switch and lean back against the door.
OK, I tell myself, you need a plan. Get a shower, get some money, go find out what’s happening with Michael. OK.
I blow out a breath and look down to take off my clothes. I’m covered in dirt. My mom’s gonna freak if I get this all over the place. I laugh again at the absurdity of thinking that thought at this precise moment. I feel my face distort with pain, and I throw my hand over my mouth and taste dirt. I throw my arm around my middle to try to hold in the gut-wrenching sobs I feel about to spill out of me and feel immense pain. My crazy laugh turns into a little squeal and erupts from my mouth.

I turn and glance in the mirror and gasp. I don’t recognize the person staring back at me. Her hair is
matted together in dirty clumps and her face is streaked with dirt and dried blood. Why was I bleeding? I lean in closer to get a better look. I have scratch marks down my face. I have a brief memory of myself pulling at my hair and scratching at my face. I can’t believe that was even me.

I jump as I hear the front door slam. Someone knocks on the bathroom door, and I open my mouth to say I’ll be right out. Fire burns a path up my throat and nothing comes out. I reach over and turn the water on in the bath. That should help them figure out I’m in here.