Aiden | Teen Ink

Aiden

October 31, 2013
By live.believe BRONZE, Brooklyn, New York
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live.believe BRONZE, Brooklyn, New York
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Accept what you can't change,
change what you can't accept."

"We accept what we think we deserve."


The last day of school was long overdue and when it arrived everyone felt like waving a flag high in the air and declaring freedom; everyone except Aiden. His parents were sending him off to a science research program for
the summer. They were completely convinced that if they let him make his own summer plans he wouldn’t end up doing anything productive. Truth be told, they were right. Aiden had the grades to get into some of the most prestigious colleges in the country. The problem was he didn’t care and never would. His parents sent him off to math and science programs since he was eleven. He dreaded the arrival of summer. All Aiden wanted to do with his life was draw and paint, and model clay. His parents couldn’t deal with that sad truth though, and instead decided to deny it. They kept sending him to esteemed summer programs and leaving college applications subtly on his desk.
He applied to one school and one school only. He applied to the Rhode Island school of Design, one of the best art schools in the country and he got in. He thought the acceptance letter would change his parents’ perspective, but it didn’t. They carried on for a week about how art isn’t a career for someone as intelligent as Aiden and firmly crushed his enthusiasm by refusing to pay for art school.
For two days following Aiden wouldn’t talk to anyone. No one knew why either. I called, and called, and finally decided to try his house phone. His parents hesitantly told me what was wrong with him. The drive to his house was normally ten minutes but I did it in five after that phone call. I walked through the door of his house which seemed perpetually unlocked and stormed straight up the stairs without a word to his parents. I tried to open the door to Aiden’s room but it was locked. I knocked until my knuckles turned red and began to sting. He never locked me out of his room. More than likely he would have preferred to lock me in. As fear and anger deepened inside of me I realized something was wrong. Aiden didn’t have a lock on his door.

15 days. Every morning when I woke up I would count the number of days that had passed since Aiden’s disappearance. After the first couple of days it seemed as if everyone had stopped caring. The kids from our High School were all very concerned for the first week and then like any other High School drama it faded with the surfacing of new news. Diana Wilson was pregnant and she didn’t know who the father was. Of course that takes precedence over someone going missing. Some of Aiden’s closer friends called me every once in a while to ask me if I had heard anything and each and every time they got the same response. I knew nothing. After the night I went to Aiden’s house and found he was missing his parents had refused to speak to me. They refused to speak to anyone. Their neighbors and friends were shut out completely. I had to hope they were doing what they could to find him. I was forced to put my trust with in Aiden’s parents and it made me uneasy. I didn’t trust them at all.
After a few minutes of thinking I got out of bed and forced myself to brush my teeth and shower. It was my usual morning routine. I was thoroughly convinced that if I stuck to my normal routine eventually things would go back to normal.
“Brianna, we’re waiting for you,” my mother shouted from behind the bathroom door. I hurried the rest of my shower and quickly met my parents and siblings at the table for breakfast. My parents, my four siblings, and I always ate breakfast together on Sunday mornings. I kept sticking to my regular routines.
My father asked me to sit quickly so he could start his story. Every Sunday morning when my mom made us eat breakfast together my dad would make each of us go around the table and share one important event that occurred in our lives that week. He always went first.
“You're going to like this one Bri”, he said. “At the office this week the girl I hired for the summer decided she had a good idea. Her job is to answer the phone, schedule appointments, make sure each child gets a lollipop and stuff of that sort…”
It was supposed to be my job. My father’s a pediatrician and his secretary was taking the summer off to be with her dying mother. He told me he’d pay me. I was actually kind of excited, but after Aiden went missing my parents decided it was a bad idea. They wanted me to spend my summer at home getting ready for college. What that really meant was that they saw my struggle to get out of bed in the morning. They saw how hard it was for me to keep going on like everything was ok, that I was ok. They wanted me to break down and they knew I wouldn’t do that if I was working and continuing this facade.
“She decided she was going to …” my father continued but I wasn’t really listening. My mind drifted and again I was day dreaming, remembering; I was somewhere else.
***
His hands felt dry and course against my face. His hands had been that way since it started to get cold. I didn’t mind, his touch still sent chills down my spine. He knew it too. Whenever I was mad at him he’d just touch my face, or take my hand, or…
His hands didn’t stay on my face for long. Standing in his empty house, in his pure white living room I could sense his hesitance. He restrained himself from going any further. I pulled away.
“Brianna”, he said my name in his disappointed in me voice. “I’m doing it for you.”
“I never asked you to.”
Aiden smirked and kissed my forehead. “I know. You may not believe me but I know that it’s a bad idea.”
“When is it ever a bad idea?”
“Says the virgin.” Aiden was never afraid to say exactly what went through his mind. He took my face in his hands and softly kissed me. I kissed him back knowing this was a fight I just wouldn’t win.
I pulled away and stared up at him. “I love you,” I said.
Aiden looked me. He always said the same thing in response: “I love you more.”


***
“Good story, right," my father asked looking directly at me.
“Yeah Dad,” that had become my answer to almost everything he said.
Ryan shared his story, then Olivia. Next was Jared, then my mom. Last was Noah. They all looked at me, waiting, hoping for something they knew wouldn’t happen. I glanced in my mother’s direction. She looked disappointed. That expression seemed to continuously occupy her aging face. Her soft brown eyes looked sad, the wrinkles on her forehead more pronounced. Her hair had more grey streaks running through it, like she hadn’t dyed it in a while. Her nails which were always filed and polished were bitten down to their stubs. I saw it in her eyes, she was more worried about me than she wished to portray.
“I don’t think I have any stories to tell,” I said.
“Why doesn’t she have to tell a story,” Ryan asked, his words dripping with anger and annoyance. Ryan hated this family tradition. He was a sophomore in high school and what sixteen year old boy wants to tell his parents about his life?!
“She does.” My father replied sternly and looked at me. He knew he caught me off guard.
“I haven’t done anything eventful,” I tried to weasel my way out of this.
“Maybe you watched something good on TV,” my mom asked.
“Nope, sorry to disappoint,” and with that I excused myself from the table. I heard Noah’s footsteps following after me. I turned around.
“Everything ok Noah?”
“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to play a game with me,” his seven year old face looked hopeful and excited. His green eyes looked at me with happiness. I hated to upset Noah.
“Of course,” I said. “What do you want to play?”
He gave me a devious smile. “Tickle monster,” He shouted. Before I knew it Noah had knocked me onto the couch and began tickling me relentlessly. I was laughing like I hadn’t laughed in ages.
“I surrender, you win,” I shouted through giggles.
Noah backed away smiling. “I told them I could get you to laugh.”
***
“Why the long face,” Aiden asked me with a concerned expression.
“What face?”
“That one,” he said, touching my nose.
“I don’t know what you're talking about,” I said and faked the best smile I could even though I felt more like crying.
“I bet I could make you laugh,” Aiden grinned.
I looked at him intently. “I highly doubt that.”
His fingers found my belly and began tickling unremittingly.
“What are you doing,” I managed to get out between attacks of laughter.
Aiden stopped tickling me abruptly but his hands lingered on my stomach. They found their way under my shirt, to my back. His hands were cold and sent chills up my spine.
“Smiling is a good look for you,” Aiden whispered, his face dangerously close to mine. “You should try it more often.”

***
I looked at my parents who were watching this scene from the dining room. I swiftly walked up the stairs to my bedroom, firmly closed the door behind me, and locked it. I felt the stinging in my eyes and one tear escaped down my face. That’s as far as I allowed myself to go, I would not breakdown, or cry. There was no point in doing so. Aiden would call soon.
I grabbed my bag from the floor, and started for the door.
“Brianna, you going somewhere?”
My dad’s hearing was impeccable. “I thought I’d go for a drive.” My answers were always vague.
“I could go for a drive, mind if I join you,” he asked.
I had already refused three times this week. “Not at all, let’s go.”
I saw the smile that reached my father’s eyes. He liked spending time with me.
My dad announced to my mother we were going out for a while, and we left. I got behind the wheel of my car and began to drive.
“Where we headed,” I asked.
“Wherever it is you normally go,” he answered.
Where I normally went? I normally would’ve gone to Aiden’s house. He would’ve opened the door before I reached it and said: “I knew you’d come.” And I’d respond: “Don’t I always?” But that’s not where my father wanted to go. He wanted to know where I had been disappearing to the past couple of days.
“Dad, I told you I don’t go anywhere. I just go driving to get some fresh air.”
“Whatever,” he said, “you're the one paying for gas.”
So we sat in the car silently as I drove nowhere.
“Brianna, Where’s Aiden?”
“What,” I asked as I turned my head to face him.
“Stop,” he shouted. I slammed on the brake before running the red light. “Maybe we should have this conversation over lunch,” my father said.
“Maybe we should have it over drinks,” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that,” my father asked smirking. I mentally cursed his impeccable hearing.
I made it to the closest pizza place without getting into an accident. We walked in and I felt like a small bratty child keeping my head down and dragging my feet behind my father. My dad ordered us slices and sodas. He began tapping the table nervously with his fingers.
“Dad, why would you think I know where he is? I told you and mom and the police I have no idea. He said nothing, left no notes, messages, or voicemails. I know just as much as you.”
“Brianna, this isn’t about the police, or trying to find him. It’s about you. You haven’t said a thing, you’ve been completely calm. That leads me to believe that you must know where Aiden is, that he is ok, when and if he plans to come home...”
“You know I don’t know anything.”
“Then why won’t you talk to anyone. Why do you try to be fine? Nobody expects you to be ok with this. You're allowed to be upset,” My father’s eyes appeared begging. He wanted me to be an emotional wreck.
“Dad, it’s like they said. Kid’s do these things all the time; especially after getting mad at their parents. He’ll come home soon, there’s no sense worrying about it.”
“Brianna, he’s eighteen. He’s not a child. He must have thought this through, found a place to stay. It has been two weeks.”
Fifteen days, I mentally corrected. I just nodded.
“I know it’s really hard for you right now, but you have to face the truth of the situation. It doesn’t look like he’s coming home soon.”
I nodded. But my dad didn’t know Aiden like I did. He wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye to me if he didn’t plan on returning soon.
My dad had no more words. He had said what he wanted to say so he just sat and finished his pizza. I picked at mine until he was done and we left.
At home things were normal. The screaming of children was heard as you walked up the front steps. When we opened the door Noah ran to me crying. I took him to the couch and sat him on my lap. Noah didn’t cry, ever. He was used to being yelled at by Ryan, having his hair pulled by Olivia. Jared usually left everyone alone; he was too busy reading to interact with his siblings.
“What's wrong Noah?”
“Jared told me that Aiden never comes here anymore because I made him angry because last time he was here I teased him when he kissed you on the lips,” Noah’s lips were trembling.
Children forget nothing. Every memory is just stored up there in their little heads waiting for the right time to expose itself. I forgot how much Noah admired Aiden. I felt like someone was shining a light in my eyes and sitting on my chest. I just wanted to curl up in my bed and cry myself to sleep.
“Noah, Aiden went to visit his cousins.” The words felt natural as they slipped off my tongue. “He told me he thought what you said was funny, he wasn’t angry at all. Don’t worry.”
Noah believed it all. He stopped crying nodded his head and went to go watch television. Jared had no idea what really happened, I couldn’t understand why he would wonder about Aiden’s disappearance. But he did; Aiden had a bigger impact on my family than I thought. I went upstairs to Jared and Ryan’s bedroom.
“What the hell were you thinking telling Noah those crazy things,” I shouted as I entered the room. But when I walked in it wasn’t Jared I found in the room. I was staring straight into the eyes of a girl whose topless body was covered by Ryan’s blankets.

***
It was like his hands belonged on my body, searching and finding every last part of me. He was hesitant and I could sense it, but at that moment it didn’t matter. He was holding me softly, I could feel him. That was all that mattered.
I opened my eyes and found Aiden’s mother staring at me, jaw dropped and eyes furious. Aiden covered me with his blankets and his mother left. He dressed, kissed me firmly, and went to talk to her. My hands were shaking so hard I thought they’d crumble. I heard him shout that we never had sex. And I sensed that his mother was rolling her eyes and ignoring him. She was good at that. The best way to solve a problem in the Reiling household was to avoid it.

***
“Brianna,” Ryan shouted as I walked away from him. “Just let me explain.”
I turned around and saw he was only shirtless, which caused me to sigh in relief. “There’s nothing to explain. You're a big boy; you make your own decisions.”
“But we weren’t doing anything. We were just making out and stuff. Bri, believe me I swear.”
“I believe you,” I said. And I did. Ryan was many things but he wasn’t a liar.
“Can you just not tell mom and dad,” he asked me with pleading eyes. For a second I saw six year-old Ryan’s face when I called him a baby.
“Not a problem. Do they know she’s here…in your room?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I think they’re too worried about you to care.”
“You're welcome,” I said.
“Brianna I’ll owe you forever,” Ryan said.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, “We’ll work something out.”
Ryan smiled and went back to the girl in his bed. I smiled too, for a second I thought my little brother had gotten further than I had.
I walked back downstairs to find Jared. He must have gone to a friend’s house because I couldn’t find him anywhere. I retreated to my room. I felt exhausted. This was taking a toll on me. I couldn’t understand why Aiden wouldn’t just come back already. At this point, if he came home his parents would agree to send him to art school. They would have sent him to clown college if he came home and demanded so. It puzzled me. I couldn’t understand why he would just disappear; I wanted to believe that I would have been the one person to make him stay. I probably would have been if I knew he was leaving.

21 days. It felt like my eyes were constantly swollen from hidden tears that fell only at night and only on my pillowcase. I gave in and allowed myself this comfort eventually; it took too much effort to pretend Aiden was coming back. My first breakdown was after 18 days. A huge rainstorm hit, and all I could think about was Aiden, soaking wet, walking through my door and telling me he missed me. But it was just a dream and dreams fade. If after 21 days I still believed Aiden was coming home I would be certifiably insane. He obviously had no intention of returning to the Reiling hellhole.

I had worn the same pair of sweatpants for the past three days. My younger sister, Olivia, eventually complained that it was disgusting so I changed into a new pair. The new pair said “sexy” on the butt.


I was wearing my “sexy” sweatpants when Aiden showed up at my house late that night.

“I’m sorry about your grandfather,” he said. He pulled me to him. I cried uncontrollably. He led me down to my basement where it was quiet; my siblings had long since retreated to their rooms. We sat on the big green couch that sank and squeaked. It was soft and worn. Aiden laid down and gently laid me between his legs, my head on his chest.

I looked up at him. “It really sucks,” I said.

He rubbed my back gently and kissed my forehead. “I know. I would do anything to make you feel better.”

“Make me laugh,” I said, “You’re good at that.”

Aiden smirked. “First I’ll make you smile.” Aiden kissed me, urgently. This was by far better than his gentle kisses. He was kissing me, everywhere. Getting lost and trying to map out his way along my skin. His only sense of direction was his hands, searching every part of me. He slowly unzipped my sweatshirt, and removed the tank top underneath. I shivered at the cold. Aiden hugged me to him. And then he pulled away.

I sighed smiling. Aiden reached for my sweatshirt.

“We don’t have to stop here,” I said pleadingly.

“Yes we do, you're getting cold.” He put the sweatshirt back and zipped it all the way to the base of my neck.

I laid my head down on his chest. “I can’t argue with you tonight.”

“He brushed his hands through my hair. “Okay, sexy,” he said.

I laughed.




Under my bed was the shoebox. I hadn’t opened it since Aiden’s disappearance. But I opened it. At the top was the picture Aiden painted. It was a girl with curly brown hair like mine, a bear back (with the exception of the band of her bra), and sweatpants that read “sexy” on the butt. I cried some more.

I looked at the pictures of us. In the first he was pushing me on a swing. Most of the others were at school. Then his sketches. Next his gifts. And last his letters. He would leave notes in my locker, or sneak them in my knapsack when I wasn’t looking. The first note I picked up read:


Brianna,

I can’t concentrate in calculus on the days you sit in front of me. My eyes drift to the small of your back, to your smoothly carved waist. My mind can only think about the sound of your voice every time you answer a question; the look in your eyes every time you glance at me. I like the way you try to be discreet about it. It’s cute, it makes me laugh. It’s ok, Bri, I stare at you too. It’s the worst when you hum as we silently do math problems. All I want to do is finger a piano and play the tune. I’m going to fail calculus, Bri. I can only focus on you.

It’s worse in calculus than any other class. I think it’s because it’s last period. By the time two o’clock comes around I’m craving you. Your scent. Your touch. Your voice. I just want to hold your hand, and talk to you, and drive you around in my beat up car.

You were sick today and I had nothing to focus on. So I wrote you a letter. I’ll probably slip it in your tissue box when I come to see you later.

I miss you Bri.

Love always,
Aiden


When I finished reading it and placed it back in the box I realized my mom was standing in my doorway.

“Want to go for a walk,” she asked. “Get out of the house for a little while.”

“No thanks,” I said.

She walked away slowly, hoping I would call her back and agree to leave the house. She knew otherwise. I hadn’t left the house for days.

I fell asleep again after that. It was around one in the afternoon. Sometime later I was woken up by a text message. It was probably just Sarah. She was a close friend of mine until me and Aiden got really serious. I was spending all my time with him so our friendship faded. When she found out about Aiden she started texting and calling me to make sure I was ok. I tried to respond most of the time but some days I just didn’t feel up to having conversations.

I debated ignoring it altogether, like I had started doing lately, but for whatever reason decided to read it. It was Aiden’s friend Eric. It read: can we meet?

I automatically assumed he knew something. That maybe he would come with Aiden in secret. I was surprised, and happy, and crying. I responded: When and Where? In thirty seconds I got my answer. He was going to pick me up in thirty minutes. I hoped so badly that he was taking me to Aiden.

I ran to shower. I put on a mini skirt and red scoop necked T-shirt. I put on perfume and makeup, and wore elevated flip flops. I brushed my hair and my teeth. I needed to be in his arms. I couldn’t wear to see Eric’s car pull up in front of my house. I waited on the couch closest to the door.

“Where are you going,” my mom asked, not hiding her shock.

“I’m hanging out my friend Eric. He’s picking me up in ten minutes.”

“Oh, I would like to meet him.”

She was suspicious, confused, not sure what to think. My dad was walking down the stairs and when he caught sight of me he looked straight at my mother.

“What the hell,” he asked.

“She’s hanging out with her friend Eric,” my mother said.

“Who the hell is Eric,” my dad asked.

“My friend,” I answered.

My parents silently stared at me for some time. They didn’t know what to say or how to react. They had no idea who Eric was. They didn’t know he and Aiden were friends. They were just confused.

“Well, you look nice,” my mom said.

“Thanks.”

At that moment I got a text from Eric. It read: In front.

I saw his car. Black and new.

My mom walked me to his car. Like a mother would do for her six year old child. I didn’t care though. I was too excited. Eric was surprised to see my mother walking me to his car. His eyebrows furrowed; he was surprised.

“My mom wanted to meet you,” I explained.

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Blake,” he said politely.

“You too,” my mother responded. “Thank you so much for getting her out of the house.” My mom smiled like I hadn’t seen her smile in days. She walked back inside and I saw her hug my father.

Eric looked at me. “You look great,” he said surprised.

“You sound surprised,” I said.

“I expected… I thought you would be upset. I wanted to get you out of your house. I wanted to make sure you were ok,” he said. “But it looks like that wasn’t necessary.”

I started crying with my head in my hands. One, because he wasn’t taking me to Aiden. He knew nothing of his whereabouts. Two, because he was being so nice to me. We weren’t friends. We knew each other, and hung out sometimes. But that was it. Eric looked past me to my window and saw my mom squinting from the window trying to see what we were doing. Eric pulled out of the spot and parked at the corner. I was still crying.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I know it’s tough on you.”

I looked up at him, tears still falling continuously. “It’s ok. Thanks for doing this for me. I just… I thought…”

“Crap,” Eric said and hit dashboard. “I’m an idiot. You thought I hear from him.”

I nodded. “It’s ok. This was really nice of you. I just really don’t feel up to going out.”

Eric laughed, “Why do you think I’m here.”

“I really should go…” I started to open the door but Eric leaned over and caught my hand.

“Please don’t. I’m doing this for me too.”

I nodded. “Ok,” I said, “where are we going?”

Eric’s hand was still on mine. He removed it, grabbed my seatbelt, and fastened it for me. “Out,” he said.

I laughed. I knew what he meant. It didn’t matter where we went as long as it didn’t look like the inside of our bedrooms. He drove far out of town. He got on the highway.

“Where the hell are you taking me?”

“Patience,” was his only response. “You hungry,” he asked.

“Yes.” I hadn’t eaten anything but soup in the past three days.

He pulled of the highway into a rest stop. There was a drive-through fast food place. We ordered massive cheeseburgers, french-fries, and soda. I started to hand Eric money as we were leaving the rest stop. He looked at it, looked at me, and kept driving.

“Take it,” I said.

“I’m ignoring your stupidity.”

I put the cash in his glove compartment.

“Are you five,” Eric asked. “I don’t need you money.”

“I’m ignoring your stupidity,” I quoted.

“Real mature,” he responded.

My stomach growled. The smell of french-fries was making me nearly salivate. Eric looked at me. “Five more minutes,” he said.

I nodded. He pulled off the highway at the next exit and drove a few blocks down. He pulled into the parking lot of a small, empty, beach. He began devouring his burger. I tried to eat mine neatly and not make a mess of his car.

“You cannot eat a burger like a girl,” Eric said with a mouth full of food.

I shrugged. “I’m talented.” Just as I said this I tipped my soda and it spilled all over me. I thought Eric would be mad but he couldn’t stop laughing.

“It wasn’t that funny,” I said.

“It was pretty funny.” He reached into the back seat and pulled out a box of tissues. I grabbed a few tissues and attempted to dry his car.

Eric rolled his eyes. “Leave the car.” He grabbed a tissue and started drying my knees. I thanked him. I felt him watching as I tried to dry my T-shirt.

“Thank god you had tissues,” I said. Eric nodded as he finished his burger. I continued eating mine.
“Why do you have tissues in your car,” I asked.
“I have a six year old sister. I think the rest is self explanatory.”
I laughed. “Is she you're only sibling?”
Eric nodded. “Lexi is it. You have, like, twelve siblings right?”
I laughed. “Four.” By then I had finished my burger, but I was thirsty.
Eric must have sensed that. He passed me his soda.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Alright, C’mon,” Eric said.
“Look at me,” I exclaimed. “My shirt’s stained, and I’m sticky, and…”
“Eric was laughing again.
“What,” I asked.
“You're such a girl,” he said as her got out of the car.
I got out too. “I am not.”
“Prove it,” He said and started running toward the beach.
I ran after him, lagging behind.
He kicked of his flip flops. He ran into the water fully dressed. It was hot, even for July. The water looked nice. “You’re crazy,” I exclaimed.
“And you're a girl,” he shouted. “There’s no one around. Stop caring.”
“I’m not getting soaked,” I said.
Eric started running toward me. “I don’t know about that,” he said.
I was about to start running, but he was too close and grabbed me. He threw me over one shoulder and then into the water. I laughed.
“How did you find this place,” I asked.
“My grandmother lives a few blocks down, over there.” He pointed. “She used to take us here when we were kids. Only old people live here for the most part, so it’s almost always empty. Besides, most of the older people go to the beach a mile down. It’s closer to their homes.”
I nodded. “It’s so quiet here.”
“Yeah,” Eric said. His hair fell onto his eyes. He kept trying to brush it away. I remembered Aiden’s hair. When it grew too long it would hang in front of his eyes. I suddenly felt hot tears on my face.
“Are you ok,” Eric asked.
I nodded. “I miss him,” I said my voice shaking.
Eric grabbed my hand and led me out of the water. We walked along the hot sand to the bench that sat right before the sand ended and became the parking lot. We sat down. I had stopped crying at this point.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t want to ruin this. It was so nice of…”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he interrupted.
I nodded. “It’s just really hard.”
“I know,” Eric said.
We were silent for a few minutes. Eric grabbed my hand and led me to a swing set further down along the beach. We sat on the swings and talked.
“He’s kind of being a jackass,” Eric said.
I almost hit him. I was angry, and surprised, and hurt. I raised my hand, but Eric caught it. He was unfazed by my reaction.
“He’s hurting everyone who cares about him to spite his parents,” Eric continued. I hadn’t seen it that way; I saw him escaping his hellhole. But he left everyone who cared about him with their own living hell. He probably knew that would happen.
“I know he’s trying to show his parents his life is his decision. And that he really needs some time on his own. But that doesn’t make it any easier on us,” Eric finished.
I nodded. “We should stop talking about this,” I said. “It’s just upsetting us.”
Eric nodded in agreement. “Let’s go somewhere,” he said.
“Where,” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“Well, I can’t go anywhere in these clothes.”
“Me either, Eric said. “Then let’s go nowhere.”
I looked at him confused.
“Come on,” he said. He led me off the beach to a small, quiet town. We walked to an even smaller, quieter park. Eric laid down on the grass. It felt cool in this heat. I laid next to him. It was quiet. I needed quiet.
After a number of minutes I closed my eyes. I felt someone slip something into my hand. I opened my eyes. Eric had put the money I gave him in my hand.
“Real mature,” I muttered.
“What was that,” Eric asked sitting upright quickly. He smiled broadly.
“Real mature,” I shouted.
All of a sudden I felt tickling. “Take it back,” Eric shouted.
“No, stop, really,” I begged.
“Take it back or it will get worse,” he said.
“Ok, I take It back,” I exclaimed.
He stopped tickling me. He was smiling. I was too.
“Thanks,” I said.
“For what,” he asked.
“Today,” I answered.
“Anytime,” he answered. “I should probably get you home.”
I nodded.
“But not looking like that,” he laughed. I looked down, my clothes were still partially wet, and soda stained. When I wiped at my eyes my fingertips were black. I was sure my makeup was smeared all over my face.
“Yeah, my family might get a little scared,” I said.
Eric drove to his grandmother’s house. It was old, and the floor creaked when you walked. It smelled like cinnamon and dust. His grandmother led us slowly up the steps to a room with a small single bed and old dark wooden dresser. She pulled out an old sweater and leggings for me.
“They were Eric’s mothers in the eighties,” she explained. “My children get mad because I refuse to throw anything away. Just goes to show you,” she said, looking directly at Eric, “it’s a good thing I saved this stuff.”
I thanked her and she smiled. She slowly left the room. Eric went to the room next door and came back in sweatpants and a dry T-shirt. I was changing out of my wet clothes when he knocked.
“Give me a minute,” I said and finished changing. I opened the door and allowed Eric in. He sat on the small little bed.
He motioned for me to come nearer to him and I did. He reached out and rubbed his thumbs under my eyes.
“Better,” he said when he had stopped and the tips of his thumbs were black.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Anytime,” he said.
He went to go wash his hands. I started thinking about Aiden again.

“Please, Aiden,” I asked the tears streaming from my eyes.
He placed his thumbs under my eyes and stroked every tear away.
“I think your dad would kill me if I let you spend the night here,” he said.
“But I don’t want to go home,” I said. It’s loud and there are too many people who need too many things, and it’s just too much for me sometimes. I feel calm when I’m with you.”
He kissed my forehead. “Then I’ll stay on the phone with you all night.” He grabbed my hand, led me to his car, and drove me home with only one hand on the steering wheel.

“Brianna? What’s wrong,” Eric asked.
“Nothing,” I said, but my voice quivered.
He walked over to me standing a little too close. “Talk to me,” he said.
“I miss him,” I said.
He hugged me to him. “I know.”
After a few seconds I pulled away. “It’s been really hard for me.”
Eric nodded. “That’s why I tried to get your mind off of it.”
“And it really helped,” I said. “You have no idea what it’s like when I just lie in bed alone and sad.”
“I can imagine,” he said.
“Thanks for doing this for me,” I said.
“Stop thanking me. I had fun. I needed a distraction too,” he said.
I nodded. “Ok,” I said and smiled.
“Let me get you home,” he said.
He drove me home. I invited him inside. My parents questioned nothing. Not my clothes. Not my inviting s boy they had never met home. Not my smile. They sighed sighs of relief, thankful that I was getting better.



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Claire_M said...
on Sep. 3 2020 at 9:34 pm
Claire_M, A City, Oklahoma
0 articles 0 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
Nonexistent. Control is nonexistent. Whoever created the word is insane, it just doesn’t exist. By definition nonexistent means not real or present. The word nonexistent should be nonexistent.

please put another chapter I need to know what'll happen