Sledgehammer (Hard to Love 2)

“I can’t.” My voice is barely audible, my lungs seizing, unable to draw breath. There’s no need for explanations. This has stopped being about who said what or didn’t, this is about me making something of myself, not sacrificing my dreams for anyone else––even him.

His eyes briefly flutter closed. Pain. Disappointment. Defeat. None of them linger on his face long because he shuts them down. Slow nodding, his eyes, filled with regret, meet mine again. He won’t let go of my face. I wrap my fingers around his wrists and pry them off while I look up, letting him see that it’s hurting me as much as it is him. I hold my hand out and he takes it, lacing his fingers through mine. I hug his arm and hold on with everything I’ve got. That’s how we walk to the car. Together, slowly, trying to make the moment last as long as possible.

“What’s your damage? Do you have any idea how scared we all were? This is a big bad world. Kids get kidnapped and sold to people as pets.”

Once we got to Eileen’s, I said goodbye to Ethan. Few words were spoken. I got out of the car and watched him drive away with my heart. It took everything I had not to run after him like a lunatic. After which, I found Audrey in the backyard, rocking back and forth on an old swing set.

“It was my grand gesture,” she mumbles, her eyes avoiding me purposely. “I thought…I don’t know. I thought if I went to see him he would know that I like him, like him.”

Oh dear. This is exactly why I should not be allowed near children unsupervised. She looks up with wet green eyes.

“And?”

“And he was with his new friends. He acted like he barely knew me.”

She might as well have punched a hole in my chest. The pain is that intense. That little fucker. He’s lucky he’s a minor. I sit in the swing next to her, and throwing an arm around her bony shoulders, hug her close. “Happens to the best of us, kid.”

“I thought he liked me, too.”

“He’s a boy. Boys are weird and hard to figure out. The best you can do is be honest with yourself about how you feel, and be honest with them. I wish I could tell you it gets easier but I can’t. All I can promise is that if you’re honest, one day when you look back on it, you’ll smile and hold your head up high because you were brave. And bravery kicks ass.”

That gets a wobbly smile out of her. She scrubs her tear stained cheeks with the backs of her hands.

“And Audrey, most importantly, don’t ever waste your time and tears on boys that are too stupid to realize that you’re awesome.”

By the look on her face, I’m not sure she quite gets it. She will eventually, though. I’ll be there every step of the way to make sure she does.

“You can’t leave,” she says with a suddenly determined expression.

“I have to.”

“You can’t. We’re sisters now, and if you leave, I’ll lose you, and I won’t have anyone to talk to and––”

“Audrey, Audrey, pump the brakes. First of all, you won’t lose me. You’ll have an excuse to come to L.A. whenever you have time off from school. And I have to go. I was always going. I have to give it a real chance and part of the reason why is you.”

“Me?” She doesn’t believe it, her tone rife with doubt.

“Yeah, you.” I look down into eyes too big for her delicate features, her expression stoic even though I know she’s in despair. “You make me want to be a better grown up. So that my opinion will be worth something to you.”

The stoic mask slides off, replaced by a sad acceptance that nothing she says or does will alter the outcome. I almost give in and say I’ll stick around a little longer.

“Can I come for the whole summer?”

Teenagers, an endless source of entertainment.

“Nice try. How does two weeks sound?”

When she looks up again, a cheeky smirk lights up her face. “Deal.”

“Thank you.”

I look over my shoulder and find the owner of that all too familiar gravelly voice stepping closer to the edge of the patio. My mother fidgets with the hem of her not-age-appropriate V-neck t-shirt, her breast implants in danger of splitting it in two. She looks contrite, something that has never, not once to my knowledge, happened before. Uncork the champagne, this is cause for celebration.

Dan and Audrey insisted I stay for dinner. Dan was barbecuing. I only agreed because he was cooking––knowing Eileen’s penchant for cooking with a microwave and only a microwave.

She didn’t say much during dinner. Instead she chose to watch me from across the patio table with heavy suspicion in her hard eyes. After we ate and cleared the table, I lingered outside a little longer.