Chapter Two

I was so blessed to have a home, a roof over my head to keep me warm during the winter and cool during the summer. It wasn’t like I was ungrateful for the building itself. I simply hated the atmosphere that surrounded it. Mostly, I hated my mother. Maybe it wasn’t hatred, but more like a strong dislike. I loved her, she was my mother after all, but I didn’t necessarily like her. There is a difference so you know. You are required to love your parents, it’s practically law, but you do not need to like them. I’ve learned this over the years, and it’s come in handy when trying to discuss the relationship my mom and I had. To put it concisely: we weren’t close at all.

 

My mom was one of a kind, and if she wasn’t, then I felt extremely bad for the kids out there that had a mother like her. She was incredibly difficult to tolerate, and sometimes I wanted to scream horrible obscenities in her face to make her cry out like the millions of times I have. She brought unwanted stress into my life by just existing and being a hovering figure that didn’t know how to live her own life the right way. It was like I was the mother and she was the child. I didn’t need this sort of responsibility at this age, even though I was eighteen and no longer a minor. I didn’t want to take care of her. She didn’t deserve it since she never took care of me. Ever since I could remember, I was by myself and taking care of the house and her.

 

A few years ago, when I was about sixteen, a sophomore, my mother went on a sort of mental hiatus. It was strange. She would either sit in her room all day or in the den and not talk. Not to me, not to anyone, although there was no one else to talk to but me. I'm not sure why she did this, but I think it's a side effect of my dad leaving her all those years ago. She still suffers from it. This leads me to wonder why he left her, especially when he knew that I was on the way. I mean, it's not like he didn't know she was pregnant. She was eight months when he decided to pack up and walk out. Whenever I try to call him a nasty name for it my mom always whimpers or quietly tells me to refrain from repeating what I had said. Sometimes the quieter she was, the worst I felt about the insult.

 

Sooner or later, she went from being completely immobile to wandering aimlessly through the house during these times. She would turn on every light in the house; so that we were a beacon for all of humanity. However, I just think it was only for him. I don't know why she misses him. He left her without leaving a single clue as to where he went or why. I think the why part is what hurts the most. She'll never know if it was her fault that he left. I like to think that it wasn't, but I can't be sure.

My house finally came into sight down at the end of the cul-de-sac, lit up like a Christmas tree as always. I sighed and debated on whether or not to sleep in the tree house again. I’ve done so millions of times to escape the stressful atmosphere that my mom created in our shabby, run-down house. It was just a house. A cold, empty house depleted of love and family. I’m surprised at myself for not running away yet, like Jen. I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t follow my own belief: you can’t outrun your own suffering because it follows you everywhere.

 

Sleeping in the tree house every other night wasn’t running away though. It was going on vacation from life, but in the vicinity of reality. The neighbors next door had wanted to build a tree house for their son when he was a little boy about ten years ago. I was eight, and the boy was turning eleven. The tree house was an early birthday present and I could remember precisely the joy that exploded across his face when he received it. The parents had to build the house on a tree in our yard since they didn’t have any in theirs, which my mother and I were fine with. I was old enough to understand that sometimes you have to give something up to see someone else happy. For an eight-year-old who thought Barbies were the epitome of life, I was very thought-provoking.

 

So the dad came over one Saturday and started to create one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. It wasn’t an elaborate mansion with indoor plumbing and lighting, but it was handcrafted by a dad who cared for his son’s happiness. A dad who was willing to pour blood, sweat and tears into a silly little project his son would forget about in twenty years, only reminiscing of the “good ole days” when old family photos were resurfaced from dusty, coffee-stained boxes. At eight years old, this hearty man put my dad to shame, and I craved a love like that. Needless to say, my wishes were never fulfilled and I was left to dream. The man and his family, though, suffered much more than I ever have.

 

It was the son’s birthday and from my bedroom window on the second floor, I watched as he jumped onto his dad’s back and squealed with joy. His dad was glowing with delight and teary-eyed as he watched his son clamber up the wooden ladder stapled to the tree trunk. The boy reached the top, and didn’t know what hit him. His dad didn’t realize that the extra nails in his back pocket weren’t his overestimation of the amount of nails needed, but a reminder that boards still needed to be secured.

 

The little boy crashed through a loose board in the tree house’s floor and crumpled to the ground after bashing his head on several branches. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the gut-wrenching scene. No one moved, but the truth was obvious. The little boy was dead. From my spot, I watched an entire family collapse, a future destroyed, and a day cursed. Every year from that day on, there was a candle-lit vigil held in that very tree house, the one I so secretly envied. For a while I thought my envy caused the death of that boy whose name I never knew and never asked for, but the moral learned was the same even after I came to understand his death was not my doing.

 

Happiness is short-lived because we take advantage of it. Now I’m sure that family were thankful for their blessed bundle of joy, and the spirit he brought into this world. There was no doubt that they would not and would never take that sort of thing for granted, but their tiny angel was unfortunately a representative for the message. That entire scenario changed my outlook on life. It’s the main reason why I live without light and happiness and sunshine: I don’t want the opportunity to take advantage of it. I don’t want that temptation. Therefore, my life bears to act without it, and so far I’ve coped with this lifestyle. It might not be the most endearing choice, but it’s still a choice nonetheless.

 

Ten years later, and this tree house is my safe haven. Although an eerie presence lurks in the shadows and I constantly shiver whenever a bird shoots through the gaping hole in the floor, this place has become my home away from home: my escape. I’ll often read and let the sun shine through the single open window be my only light. A tattered, worn-out sleeping bag lies in the corner all bundled up and ready to be unrolled for every bad night I have, which is more or less every other night. My mother doesn’t even notice I’m gone half the time, that’s how involved she is in my life.

 

I was sitting in my car thinking: Is it worth it? In reality, it wasn’t, but I couldn’t stay away for too long. Usually it took her a week to realize I was gone, but today I felt that I should at least let her know I was alive. The car door opened at my touch, and I slung my bag over my shoulder, my book in the crook of my arm. The front door was unlocked, painted a dark shade of green, and my mom could be seen from the hallway. She was standing motionless in the kitchen, eyeing the knife set that lay menacingly on the countertop. I rushed to the spot and heaved the large block knives in a cupboard above the sink.

 

“Mom. Mom? Hey, I’m home,” I said gently, waving a hand in front of her nonresponsive eyes. She continued to gaze in the same direction, so I shook my head and moved on to the floor above where my lonely room was. My mom wouldn’t move until the clock struck at the next hour, signaling another day gone in the eyes of Jillian Thompson.

 

My room was spotless, seeing as I was almost never in it. I only used it occasionally to do homework or listen to music when my mom was out, which was practically never. She only went out to do the laundry because she had broken ours. I still don’t understand how.

 

There were a few scattered items of clothing, but other than that there was a bed and a barren desk. Most of my belongings were in the tree house as of late. I’ve been spending a lot of time in there the past week due to an outrageous increase in my mother’s insanity. She would have gone to a doctor if she hadn’t already gotten thrown out of every office in this pitiful town. No one wanted to help her, and it broke my heart. However, I was ashamed of her and her unwillingness to cooperate. She didn’t have it in her to try and was as stubborn as a mule.

 

Usually I would come upstairs to my room every day after school and lead my mother to believe that I was in there all night. To her, when I went upstairs that meant that life was good and she didn’t need to check up on me. She was so wrong, but I let her believe what she wanted. There was a small safety-escape ladder underneath my bed that I strap to the one windowsill in my room, and carefully climb down it to reach the dried yellowed grass of the backyard. Then, at last, I was free until morning when I had to climb back inside to grab clothes from my closet to change into for school.

 

This night was no different, and soon I was snuggling into the sleeping bag with my poetry book in one hand and a flashlight in the other. The air was chilly and stale, but much more comfortable than in the house. My mother had failed to pay the heating bill and the electricity bill this past month. I sighed and curled myself closer into the sleeping bag, falling asleep to the musical symphonies of the night.

The next day passed by in a blur from the moment I woke up to the alarm scheduled on the small watch I wore around my wrist. Classes were the same everyday: long and monotonous. The only thing that kept me awake was the thought of my sort of date with Carter in less than twenty-four hours. I had texted him last night saying I would be ready for pick up at school around seven o’clock. He said he would be my knight in shining armor waiting to sweep me off my feet. My mind imagined the perfect evening where we ended the night with a kiss, but I was getting way ahead of myself. There was no way he had feelings like that for me. This was just a friendly get-together. Nothing more.

 

At lunch, I tried to restrain myself from staring excessively at Carter from my spot across the room. When I allowed myself once glance over at his always crowded “popular” table, he met my eyes with a smile. There were crinkles by his eyes and a dimple by his left cheek from that little smile of his, and I could feel myself blushing not so subtly. His eyes lit up, most likely chuckling at my embarrassment of being caught, but he returned his attention to his friends. That moment was probably the most exciting of my senior year so far, which was pretty depressing. Yet there was still the rest of the year to look forward to.

 

Jen was quiet all day, and I waited for her to invite me to the Paradox even though an invitation wasn’t necessarily needed. Her lips stayed sealed, causing me to believe that she needed time to herself this afternoon. There was nothing wrong with that, but it meant I would have to spend more time at my house. I suppose I would either go straight to the tree house or the library after school. Whichever it was, it didn’t really matter. As long my mom wasn’t around, the afternoon would be tolerable.

 

The night ended in the tree house once again, where I had eventually decided to spend my afternoon, as well. There was a comforting promise that the tree house kept to me: it promised to shelter me from reality, which I greatly appreciated. People say that there is no place like home. Well, the tree house was my newfound home and it most definitely trumped the shell that my mother managed to survive in. I’m surprised that she hasn’t tried to sell the house for a bit of money she could spend on a mobile home. It would be much cheaper than living in the house that only she really occupied. She could up and go at any time and I could fend for myself easily. There were plenty of jobs available for me to pick up at any time, and that money could supply me a lot more than my mom was with her food stamps.

 

Friday started off with my mother knocking at the floor of the tree house saying that I had a call from an aunt I’d never heard of before. I clambered down the ladder that hugged the trunk and followed my mom inside to the phone that was remarkably still in service.

 

“Hello?” I said sleepily into the receiver.

 

“Hi, is this Virginia? It’s your Aunt Susan!” a cheery voice nearly shouted.

 

“MH, I’m Virginia, what-what’s up?”

 

“Well, someone recently informed me of the horrible conditions you have to live in, and well, I was wondering if you were interested in coming to stay with me?”

 

“And where would that be?”

 

“Bristol, England.”

 

“Wow.”

 

At first, I wasn’t completely sure if I had heard her right. Did she really just say England? She actually wanted me to move with her to England, a whole ocean away from my friends, (correction: friend) and family? It seemed a bit ridiculous and sudden, but it wasn’t entirely absurd. I told her I would think about it and call her later, to which she gave me her cell phone number to jot down.

 

My mom hadn’t stayed around to see what the phone call was about, and I didn’t bother telling her. She most likely didn’t care like she didn’t care about every other aspects of my life. I thought back to the offer and actually considered accepting it. Life here was a hell hole, so why not go away for a while? Running away from my problems wasn’t exactly my way of going about things, but it wasn’t running away. Like the tree house, it was a vacation. There was no way that I could permanently stay there, now that was absurd. For all I knew, my aunt was a psycho who could be dragging me across the world as some form of kidnapping. How could I be sure that this was real?

 

The thought vanished from my mind as I took a lukewarm shower and changed for school. Today was the day of Carter and mine’s “date”, for which I had absolutely nothing flattering to wear. It wasn’t an official date, but I still wanted to look nice. My daily attire didn’t complement my shape or features that were hidden beneath semi-loose jeans and rock band t-shirts. What I wore didn’t fit the stereotypical style of a “normal” teenage girl, and people judged me harshly for my choice of clothing. It stung, but I was able to ignore the comments…most of the time.

 

I listened to a CD that Jen had made me a while ago �" it had songs by Metallica and Aerosmith �" on my ride to school that morning. There were a lot of tracks that pleased my music-deprived ears, and I made the mental note to ask Jen the names of them. I didn’t have an iPod or MP3 Player because I could never afford one, so CD players were the best technological device that I owned. The same went for Jen, too. Her parents weren’t poor like my one, but they had trouble scuttling along like us. We were at the bottom of the pit of the economic status in our small town of Grothem, Massachusetts.

 

The first half of the day was as boring as usual with me almost falling asleep in every class. I tried practicing writing poetry a bit to keep myself awake, but everything I wrote had something to do with either Carter or the coming winter. One made me extremely nervous while the other made me feel relaxed and calm, which caused for more sleepiness. It seemed like I couldn’t win. My palms were already sweating at lunch even though I still had six or so hours until I’d be alone with him. Our eyes met when I walked through the cafeteria’s double doors, making me blush a violent scarlet and trip over my own two feet. I couldn’t embarrass myself any more than that, so I kept my eyes to the floor until I reached my seat.

 

“Good luck today, I guess,” Jen muttered, pushing the soggy vegetables on her plastic plate of disgusting café food. I always brought a lunch from home. Though food was scarce, I always managed to find something.

 

“What do you mean by “I guess”?”

 

“Well, you know…”

 

There was an awkward beat between us. Jen motioned with her free hand ambiguously and nodded as if I understood.

 

“I obviously don’t, so what the hell does that mean?” I repeated with emphasis on the last few words. It sounded as if she was implying that she didn’t approve of me spending time with Carter, which was something she had no right to interfere with. I was happy, so why couldn’t she simply be happy for me?

 

“It means that I don’t necessarily think that Carter is the best guy for you,” �" to which a leaned back in my seat in aggravation �" “and I think you should politely decline his offer to meet up with you tonight, that’s all.”

 

“Give me one good reason why he isn’t good for me.”

 

“Give me one good reason that he is.”

 

I opened my mouth to retort, but found myself at a loss of words. That was a good question, why was he good for me? I’ve always known that he was way out of my league since he was “popular” and I wasn’t, and that he was an athletic star while I was the weird outcast. Yet, he was sweet and caring, but that was a feeling rather than a known fact. I’d never actually gotten to know him for who he was because we have never had the time to talk. Well, he surely hadn’t known I existed until the other day when he witnessed Samantha bullying me so badly that I was practically concussed. Yes, that’s how I knew he cared about me. He had held out his hand through the darkness when no one else had. He had set his eyes on me when everyone else looked away. Carter was my knight in shining armor.

 

“What’s it to you? You don’t have any right to tell me who not to like or go out with. Piss off.”

 

On that note, I left my lunch half-eaten on the table and stormed out of the room. There was no one to chase after me because Jen barely worries about my wellbeing and Carter was too engrossed with those airheaded cheerleaders who were bursting with the latest gossip. Maybe she was right that he wasn’t a good pick for me. I was another girl to play with and leave stranded on the side of society.

 

My legs carried me all the way to the girls’ bathroom on the second floor, where I stayed for the remainder of the day. No one ever comes in this bathroom because it was the least clean and people of my “kind” used it all the time. It was a place for us to escape to during the day when we needed to get away from everything and everyone. I didn’t come here a lot, but today I needed to. Now how was I supposed to act cool around Carter later today while Jen’s words kept playing through my head? Maybe I should blow him off and cry myself to sleep in the tree house…again. No, that would be cowardly and I don’t want him to think any less of me.

 

When the final bell rang, I realized that my bag was still in the cafeteria, but that was only if someone hadn’t taken it and turned it inside out, scattering my belongings everywhere. That wouldn’t be the most endearing thing for me right now, but life was never kind to me. Horrible home, pitiful mother, nearly no friends and a possibly manipulative not-truly-interested-in-me boy don’t sound like the world is on my side. While I made my way to the café, two sides of my mind argued over whether or not I should meet up with Carter tonight. One said to go for it: when else was a boy going to show the slightest interest in me? The other warned me how much risk I was taking: how well do you really know him?

 

My conflicted thoughts continued to argue in my head as I spotted my untouched bag, grabbed it and headed to the parking lot through the door at the end of the large room. I only had about five hours to decide on whether or not I was going to meet with him, and at the moment it could have gone either way. My dark blue converse coated feet kicked rocks and small debris from who knows what that littered the lot. My fingers searched the front pocket of my bag for the keys to unlock the shabby car that was parked in front of me. I glanced up to put the key in the lock and almost doubled over in fear after seeing someone leaning against the door.

 

“Give me the keys, we’re going to my house to dress you up pretty,” Jen stated, holding her hand out.

 

My mouth was agape and my limbs were still frozen with shock and content surprise. I wasn’t exactly sure what had gotten Jen to change her mind �" or just lock away her judgmental thoughts until after tonight �" but I was glad she did. I handed her the keys and curled her cold fingers around them.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

 

She nodded and slid into the front seat to start the car. The passenger side was open and welcomed me with soft classical notes floating through the air. Again with the classical? I don’t know why Jen was so into it lately, but I liked the new taste. Sure, it wasn’t exactly punk rock or heavy metal, which much better suited Jen’s multi-colored red, blonde and dark brown hair style, but it showed a different side to her. A side that I was willing to bring to life by maybe spending more quality time with her instead of just using her to be my friend, my only friend. I felt guilty for only being friends with her just so I could have the okay to say I actually had friends, even though it was only one. But without Jen, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have made it this far on my own.

 

 

6:53 PM. Seven minutes until the time Carter and I agreed to meet at. The parking lot was empty and a chill crept through the cracks of the doors to my car. A pale pink sweater clung to my shoulders and neatly pressed blue skinny jeans hugged my hips. My hair was done up in a neat bun and a hint of makeup touched my incredibly whitish face. Every part of me was shaking with anxiety, and I couldn’t contain the stress levels that were working their way from my feet to my head. A foot tapped the floor of the car, and it wasn’t for a while until I realized that it was my own.

 

6:56 PM. Four minutes left until my nerves would be washed away by the presence of one of the hottest boys at our school. Looks don’t normally matter to me, I like to focus on the personalities of the people around me, but since I didn’t know Carter all too well, looks would have to do for now. I was hoping that by the end of the night, he and I would know everything about one another, and I could sleep peacefully knowing that he didn’t make prejudiced guesses about me anymore. Not that I thought he did in the first place. You just never know.

 

7:00 PM and Carter’s rusty red Camaro was pulling into the lot with the windows open and music blaring through the speakers. I winced at the harsh sounds and lyrics that met my sensitive ears, but I glanced at Jen who sat at the wheel.

 

“Go get ‘em,” she said with a small smile, nudging my arm lightly and making that the most friend-like thing she’s ever done for me, besides helping me get ready for tonight.

 

“Thanks,” I whispered back shakily.

 

A deep breath traveled through my lungs before escaping my chapped lips, which I quickly applied ChapStick to in hopes to moisturize them quickly. Before I knew it, my toes were guiding the way to the passenger side of his car, and the music was turned down to a tolerable level.

 

“Hey, babe,” Carter greeted me with a crooked smile, flashing his pearly white teeth.

 

The first thought that ran through my mind was “Rich, spoiled, cocky jerk”, but then I realized I was being like the rest of them: ignorant and biased. I smiled sweetly and plunked not very gracefully onto the hard leathered seat. It was worn out all over, and I wondered for a minute what happened in this car. When those thoughts turned a corner I didn’t want to go past, I subtly shook my head of the suggestive thoughts.

 

“Where to?” I asked. My tongue was rough and thick in my mouth, and I desperately wished I had a sip of my water before walking over. Too late now, I supposed.

 

“I was thinking drive-in or my house, but your choice,” Carter said softly, his eyes staring longingly at mine, but I didn’t dare meet his gaze.

 

A red blush slowly made its way from my neck to the tip of my nose, and all of a sudden I had the urge to let my hair fall down around my face to hide it. However, Jen had spent way too much time on it, and I would feel terrible if I ruined her masterpiece. Plus, she said I looked much prettier with it up because you could see my eyes, which she claimed was my best feature.

 

“Either is fine with me,” I replied after a silent moment.

 

“Alright, my house it is then. My parents are out though, is that okay with you?”

 

“Mmm,” I replied much too quickly, “I mean, yeah, sure. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

 

He chuckled quietly under his breath and put his car into drive, leading us away from the school and on the road to his neighborhood. Thank heavens he lived a bit of a distance away from me because then he didn’t have to see the trashy shelter I called a home.  It was embarrassing, and I was thankful we were headed to his house and not mine. If this has the potential to continue, there may be a problem with me going to his place every single time. He'll suspect something is up, and I'll be too cowardly to confess.

 

We drove in silence for most of the ride down the dirt covered roads cloaked by dusk. At one point, Carter turned on the radio to a station I'd never heard of, but he kept it at a dull murmur. I couldn't make out any of the lyrics, but the tunes were audible enough. It sounded like soft rock, which was Jen's pick about two weeks ago. The music filled the silence that I was too nervous to do so myself, so I kept to twiddling my thumbs and staring at the glove compartment.

 

"So...um, how has school been?" Carter asked awkwardly. He shifted in his seat and placed both hands on the steering wheel, risking a glance at my defensive position beside him.

 

"Why did you invite me over?" I blurted out in response. My hand rushed to cover my mouth, and right then we pulled into Carter's driveway. His house was incredible.

 

It towered above us with three floors that were decorated with elaborate windows and shutters that were a pale blue. The outer paint was white, and from one lit window, a chalky cerulean draped the inner walls of a room that looked like a professor's study. I wasn't sure who the room was for, but I knew that bookcases lined the walls. The strong scent of unturned pages left on shelves for centuries tickled my nose, but I was only imagining it. 

 

"Virginia? Hey, I invited you because you needed to take a break from the world," Carter replied, "And because of this."

 

I turned to see what he had to show me, but all of a sudden his lips crashed with mine. He had completely taken me off guard with this surprise attack and I was left shocked with eyes wide open. When he didn't pull away for quite some time, my eyes fluttered shut and our lips moved in unison. I couldn't remember the last time I kissed a boy, but that didn't matter because I was kissing one now.

 

When he finally opened his eyes and smiled gently at me, I knew that this wasn't some scandal he planned with his football buddies. He did have feelings for me even though I had never known they existed. Questions about when his feelings blossomed zoomed through my mind, but were never asked. Carter and I sat in the car together, too lazy to walk inside, and talked for the rest of the night. 

 

The music was low and every song fit the mood perfectly. There was nothing to rain on my parade, and I felt like the happiest girl in the world. I finally understood why girls get so crazy when a boy likes them, or whether or not they do. It's because the feeling when you're with that boy is priceless and it's time you can never get back or replace. It felt timeless. But there was a voice in the back of my mind that threatened to ruin the whole night. This little voice had always been a nuisance to me since before I can remember. It liked to constantly remind me how insecure I was, and one of those moments was desperate to rise to the surface.

 

Carter was talking about how his team was one win away from being the state champions, but the words flowed through on ear and out the other. All I could focus on was that little voice that built up power. It went from a dull whisper to an ear-splitting scream:

 

WHY DO YOU THINK YOU ACTUALLY HAVE A CHANCE WITH HIM?

 

YOU DON’T.

 

DO YOU THINK HE ACTUALLY LIKES YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE?

 

WELL, HE DOESN’T.

 

DO YOU THINK HE SIMPLY LIKES YOU, NO STRINGS ATTACHED?

 

THINK AGAIN, HE’S PROBABLY USING YOU.

 

YOU’RE NOTHING TO HIM. YOU WILL NEVER BE PRETTY ENOUGH. NEVER.

 

My eyes welled up with tears and I burst out of the car, wrapping my arms around my torso and walking quickly across Carter’s lawn. Before Carter could react, I was halfway down his street and pulling out my phone to call Jen. She knew where I was and could pick me up in five minutes. I just needed to get as far away as possible from Carter. His voice called my name, but he didn’t come running after me, which was the catalyst for the tears flowing freely down my cheeks and onto the collar of my sweater.

 

The night was cool, the crescent moon rose steadily across the sky and I took off my shoes to walk barefoot down the pavement. One after the other between the double yellow lines, my feet led me back towards the school. Sharps stones pierced the soles of my calloused feet, but I paid no attention to the miniscule pain. I was still being ravenously abused by a treacherous voice that lived within my mind. Its insults and truths were too much to bear, and I hoped that Jen would help me. There were people in the world who hated asking for help, and I was one of them. But that one time may be the only time that I would ask for it, so I hoped she was willing to mend my broken spirit.

 

By the time the entrance way to the school was within a short distance, I had a steady limp and the bottoms of my feet were bleeding. The pain was numb to me because the personal insults I was screeching in my mind were much stronger. I was killing myself inside for the stupidest reasons, but they were all relevant. Carter didn’t like me at all and I was kidding myself by thinking for one second that he did. I was a foolish naïve girl who thought that boys these days can fall for who you are rather than what you look like. There was too much hope in my heart for the present day’s teenage boy population. I wish I could make sense of it all.

 

A little ways away was Jen with my car, and as soon as she saw me she leapt out of the car and rushed to my aid. I leaned against her while she half-carried me to the passenger side. She helped me swing my legs in before resting my body down gently on the seat. I whispered a shaky thank you and leaned back against the head rest. My eyes fluttered shut and neither of us spoke. Jen understood that tonight had gone badly by the state of me, and I had no idea how she was going to react. I certainly didn’t expect her to offer spending the night at her house. And I didn’t expect to say yes.