Chapter 12
twelve
. . .
Panic
Fourteen years ago
desiree
sixteen years old
“Dylan, I need your help. Can you come get us?” I asked as I cradled my phone in one hand, patting Taven’s back with the other. He was moaning and curled up on the floor in the fetal position, periodically shouting out a Taco Bell order.
Melissa was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, curly hair long and tousled around her shoulders while she spun one of the strands around her finger. “Should we just take Inferno and go get him some food?”
“No!” Taven shouted from the fuzzy cream rug beneath him. “No one drives my baby!”
The music of the party was muffled and thumping from downstairs. A gaggle of girls walked by us, rolling their eyes at the drunken guy on the floor. I could hear sloppy kisses of kids making out, and Melissa turned her head to yell at them. “Get a goddamn room!” Meanwhile, her own lips were swollen from having just been doing the same thing, and she looked back at me and smiled, hiccupping through a giggle.
I heard Dylan curse on the other end of the phone. “Dez, what happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assured my brother, who sounded slightly inebriated himself. I knew that tone, it was his big brotherly concern, but mixed with a little slowness in the cadence of his speech. “Taven and Melissa and I are at a party,” I explained, “but I think Taven’s pretty messed up. I don’t know what to do. And he drove us here.” I hated sounding so pathetic. The kid sister that rarely ever did anything reckless, now calling in a mild panic.
“Whatever you do, don’t let him drive.”
I looked down at my ridiculously hot boyfriend, now looking ridiculously pathetic as he was crying out other food orders, ones from a slew of random fast-food places. The broken towel bar he had managed to yank off the wall lay haphazardly across his body. I kneeled down beside him to lift it, rising and assessing the wall damage. “Don’t worry, I’m not even sure he could find his car right now,” I told Dylan as I tried to press the rounded edges of the rod into the crumbling bits of drywall. “Let alone try to drive it.”
Bits of dust dropped down onto Taven, coating him in white powder. “Such a mess,” he muttered out, wiping the debris from his face.
“You look like you caught flurries of snow,” I said.
I was trying to sound soothing, but the little nagging feelings of worry had already crept in. I was at the house of someone I didn’t know, having dragged my best friend here with me, all because I wanted to be the cool and chill girl for once. Go to let loose? Tell my parents I was going to Melissa’s, while instead chugging cheap alcohol procured from some unknown source? Sure, I could do that for my boyfriend—the one who was now drunk and out of his mind. When we’re in the throes of our crushes, we can sacrifice bits of ourselves. Against my better judgment, I had done just that in hopes of showing Taven that I could be a good time.
This was fine, I tried to tell myself. I’d figure this out, but I couldn’t help the pit of dread in my stomach, and I suddenly just wanted to be home and in bed. Stupid as it was, I was hard-wired to be a worrier. Kids did this kind of thing all the time, right? Why, oh, why couldn’t I just be as easygoing as everyone else? What was wrong with me?
Taven raised his hand. “I could find Inferno anywhere,” he whispered below me with gusto, like it was a secret spy message wrapped in a reassurance of his loyalty to his country.
Melissa grabbed the phone from me, holding it up to her ear. “Hello, sweet Dylan,” she purred. I felt the tiniest bit of comfort in her calm presence. Everything was fine. Melissa would know what to do. I was freaking out for nothing. We’d figure out a way to get out of here. “Can you come get us, pretty please?” she asked my brother. “I think I’d be alright to drive, but Taven won’t let me.” She stumbled a little, then added, “Actually, maybe I’m not so okay.” I waited as she took another step out into the hall, slowly pacing as she listened to my brother. I heard her say, “That’s not really an option,” and I wondered what the suggestion was.
This was not exactly how I wanted my night to go. Five minutes ago, Taven and I had been holed up in a guest room, tipsy with hands on each other’s bodies in the dark and forbidden upstairs of the parents’ house of one of Taven’s school acquaintances, someone I didn’t even know. I had reached for my good old red plastic cup of cheap booze, ready to boldly take a swig and try and make this moment count, feeling so in love with my boyfriend that had just rescued me from prying eyes.
Earlier, when we were downstairs in the kitchen amidst the main mayhem of the party, Taven had been taking shots, something I refused to do. He was laughing and trying to get me to join in. “Come on, Dazzle! Cross off a Bingo square, take a shot!” He was grinning and looking devilishly handsome, but still, I refused. He was having fun enough for the both of us, so I quietly sipped my mixed drink, content to let this Bingo square sit unfulfilled.
It was when one of the guys from his school came up to me, pressing a shot glass to my lips, that I started to get uneasy. “One shot, Taven’s girl. I won’t tell.” The kid had a glint in his eye that gave me the creeps. “I have a feeling you’d be real fun, wouldn’t you?” he said.
I pushed the glass and his hand away from my face. “I’m really okay,” I said, eyes searching for Taven. I saw his smile drop as he looked at the kid hovering way too close to me, and was relieved when he slammed his drink down on the counter, before marching over to us.
Taven yanked the guy’s shirt, pulling him away from me, saying, “Don’t fucking touch her,” then he grabbed my hand.
The guy backed away, laughing. “Alright, Carlisle. Take it easy. Just want your girl to know she’s got backup options when she’s sick of your dumb ass.”
I squeezed Taven’s hand in panic, trying to pull him out of there, worried a fight was about to start with the dramatic cheers of the crowd egging them on. “Ignore them,” I pleaded to him as I led us to the doorway, looking behind me at the crowd of guys all shouting out random phrases, saying Taven’s girl is hot, does he share, just one taste.
He paused his steps, turned to face them, and I was about a half a second away from freaking out.
Taven slowly let a smile sweep over his face. “You guys think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”
“Uh-oh, Carlisle’s mad,” one guy taunted.
“Ignore them, please,” I repeated, trying to keep my voice firm. His eyes were dead-locked on them, refusing to pull away, chilling with the lifeless smile on his face that looked anything but happy. If looks could kill, his would have.
I pressed my palm into his chest, pushing him backward and out of the kitchen. “Look at me,” I said as I steered him down the hall. I put my hand on his cheek and forced his eyes back to mine. “ Hey, look at me.” I smiled, willing myself to act natural. “They’re just trying to rile you up. Don’t let them. Then they win.”
He studied me for a moment, contemplating how to respond, I think. I knew his pride was bruised, but the last thing we needed was him in some house party fight, returning home with a black eye. His parents would kill him.
He finally nodded, saying, “How do you always know just what to say?” and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I pulled us down the hall, toward the bottom of the stairs. I guided us up and then down through another hall to an empty room, our own little hideaway. I closed the door behind us, glad to be out of the mayhem and deafening noise, unscathed and ready to steal away a quiet moment.
I stepped forward and kissed him, slowly, savoring our peace. His mouth was hungry on mine, and he reached behind me and flicked off the light. He guided us back to the bed and I laid myself down on it, heart beating rapidly, partly from the rush of the interaction downstairs, and partly from the knowledge that Taven and I were actually in a room by ourselves with a closed door for once. It felt like a sacred moment, and I wanted to make it count. I was tipsy and in love, and Taven was in love with me right back.
Within five minutes, I realized it was only me that was tipsy—Taven was full-blown trashed. I had clearly underestimated how coherent he was, so when he said he was dizzy, I pulled down my shirt and grabbed his hand to pull him off the bed, the weight of his body nearly crashing us both down as he stumbled into me. “Sss…sis fine, I just need some food,” he said.
It scared me how quickly he had gone from being normal Taven, to this pliable substance of flesh and bones. I thought of my mom, and the way she could have nights of one too many, sitting on the couch with a far-off stare, swaying and apologizing to no one. Lucid enough to recognize her drunken state, but too far gone to do anything about it. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, I always pitied her vulnerability.
So when it was clear Taven was a lot more drunk than I realized, I hurried us down the hall, pushing open doors to a closet, then an office where another couple was on their own mission. Closed that door and ran past Melissa, who was pressed up against a wall with some party guest conquest of the evening. I eventually found the bathroom. Melissa cried out over the shoulder of her guy, “You guys alright?”
I had shoved Taven into the bathroom and that’s when he grabbed onto the towel rack to steady himself. The next thing I know, both he and the silver bar with its neatly displayed bundles of teal terrycloth came crashing down on the floor, with Melissa rushing in behind me to assess the noise.
Now we were here. Melissa was pacing the hallway and consulting with my brother, and I was rubbing Taven’s back and hoping he would just get sick and be done with it. I scanned around the vanity and my eyes found a neat stack of small Dixie cups. I turned on the faucet and filled one, handing it to Taven. “Drink this,” I said.
He waved me away. “No more shots.”
“It’s not a shot,” I said, nervous that he was serious and actually thought it was. Was he that far gone? “It’s water, you just saw me fill the cup.”
He lifted his torso, leaning up against the wall and rolling his head to the side as he closed his eyes. “I don’t do water. Water’s for assholes. Just get me a beer, I’ll be fine.” I looked at his slumped shoulders, panic rising, wondering how the hell we were going to get out of here so I could get him home safely without his parents finding out. They’d ground him for life, I was sure of it. I could kiss being able to see him goodbye. I was simultaneously mad at him for being dumb enough to think multiple shots was a good idea, yet aching at the sight of my guy so messed up.
I drank down the water myself, figuring I might need to sober up if Dylan couldn’t come get us. I looked back at Taven. “You sure you don’t want some?” I said with as much flirtatious teasing as possible. “It’s so refreshing, so delicious. You should really try it.” Please, for the love of God, Taven. Pull yourself together and drink the water.
He waved me off again, slumping his way back down on the floor, and I was nervous he was going to pass out. But then, eyes still closed, he muttered out, “I fucked up.”
I rubbed his back, relieved he was talking. I told him it was okay. Just a little too much to drink, no big deal, like I did this kind of thing all the time.
He shook his head ever so slightly. “No z’not. You’re too, too good, Dazzle. Deserve better. Z’not me. Why me?” he asked in a whisper.
I pushed the hair away from his closed eyes, thinking how someone could look so peaceful, yet be saying such sad things. “I deserve you and you deserve me, got that?” I hated seeing him beat himself up like this. My anger evaporated as I listened to his slurred and dejected words.
“Why do you even love me?” he breathed out. “You shouldn’t love me, Dazzle.” It was the last thing he whispered before dropping the full weight of his head onto the floor, passing out.
When Melissa returned to the bathroom with my phone, I looked up at her in hope. “Well?” I asked. “Can Dylan come get us?”
Melissa shook her head. “Nope, said he’s too far away. So he’s calling your mom instead.”
I looked at her in horror. My mom was not an option. She’d tell Taven’s mom, and the wrath of Lynda was something nobody wanted. This was my own personal nightmare, right here. I had to protect Taven and keep him out of trouble. He did not need this. “Call him back!” I half-shouted to Melissa’s startled face. “Stop him!”
Melissa raised her hands. “Relax, my God, what’s gotten into you? ”
I darted my eyes over to the slump of Taven on the floor. “This. This is what’s gotten into me.” I was on the verge of tears, feeling desperate that tonight was going to blow up in my face when the Carlisles decided to ship off Taven to military school. I could see it now. They wouldn’t be understanding that their son had just gotten a little carried away. They wouldn’t give him some sweet lecture on drinking and pat him on the back, saying, “There, there. We all make mistakes.”
No. The Carlisles would be furious. They’d yank all privileges like the carrots they constantly dangled in front of Jacqui’s and Taven’s faces. His phone, his car, any activities that weren’t strictly school related. For people that constantly hosted elaborate parties for themselves, champagne flowing with an air of carefree living, they were highly hypocritical when it came to the ways they parented their children. I had seen enough over the years to know they treated their kids like juvenile delinquents that needed constant reprimanding.
Melissa crouched down beside me, her expression softening as she recognized the panic I was feeling. “Dez, sweetie,” she said, brushing the hair away from my face. “Your mom will be cool about it. Dylan said so.” She flashed her eyes down to Taven. “And besides, he’s passed out, and I sincerely doubt either of us want to be stuck here all night.”
“It might be better than the alternative,” I said, already hating the idea, especially with my boyfriend out cold.
Melissa smiled. “Yeah, but…that dude I was just hooking up with is a horrible kisser,” she said with a tipsy giggle.
I groaned, realizing I was surrounded by no one of any help.
This was exactly why I never did this kind of thing—house parties that were broken up by cops, kids laughing at the stories the next Monday at school while I internally shook my self-righteous head, wondering what the appeal was. It all sounded like stupid child’s play that I had no interest in, or so I told myself.
Yet curiosity was somewhere on my mind, I suppose .
The curiosity was killed now, that was for sure. I was screwed, stuck with my boyfriend on the floor, my mind spinning with fears of how drunk is too drunk, and whether or not he’d need his stomach pumped. I tried to think back to the slideshows of warning signs of alcohol poisoning I’d seen. I was the kid to actually listen to those school presentations of guest speakers and police officers coming in to talk about the dangers of teenaged drinking. While every other classmate cracked their jokes under their breath, I had been fighting tears when that nice couple came in to talk about losing their son to drunk driving. The anguish on the mother’s face, giant blown-up photos of her son behind her trembling body. The father, placing his arm around his wife, holding back his own tears unsuccessfully. My heart hurt for those people, and for the boy who lost his life to the promises of a simple good time. I feared ever putting my parents in that position.
Yet here I was, at some guy’s party and ignoring all of my own usual good decision-making skills, all out of my desperation to get some alone time with Taven. His parents had continued to remain incredibly strict about us being together. I was still never allowed to be at his house when no one was home, and the Carlisles insisted my parents enforced the same rules at our house. We didn’t go to the same school, and Taven was always so busy with sports, all of which left me craving any seconds of time with him I possibly could. I was kicking myself for being so dumb, yet at the same time, wishing I was wired to more cooly handle this kind of thing.
I should have planned better, I shouldn’t have been drinking. Jacqui was away on a school trip, Dylan was two hours away at college, and now my mom was going to have to come and get us. My first real attempt at letting my hair down, and I had messed it up. Go figure.
My mind started running through all the possible scenarios of how this would go, how my mom might react. Would she be mad, or would she be happy we were trying to be responsible? I really didn’t know, it was my first time ever being truly tipsy, maybe even drunk.
I was pretty sure I’d never drink again. I clearly wasn’t very good at it.
Melissa and I slowly made our way down the stairs and out of the house with Taven’s nearly dead weight between us, having miraculously been able to wake him up, but just barely. Once outside, I tried to suck in as much fresh air as possible as we huddled together down the driveway where my mom’s car was waiting for us. We piled into the back seat, and my mom handed me a large empty cup. “In case he gets sick,” she explained, then she pulled off. I couldn’t read her expression or decipher her tone, but at least we were out of the party.
“Inferno!” Taven wailed as we drove past his car, parked on the street. “Nobody better touch my fucking car.” I stared at him, horrified, and jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow.
Melissa leaned forward in her seat and patted my mom’s shoulder, hiccupping. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Hatson. Taven never usually curses, I promise you.” She grinned her signature smile, and my mom rolled her eyes, but I saw the smallest lift of the corner of her mouth. Being in the familiar space of her car, seeing her tiny smile—it all gave me a sense of comfort I was embarrassed to admit I needed.
“Sure, sweetie. Okay,” she said.
We pulled into a gas station. My mother handed me her credit card, instructing me and Melissa to go in, grab some bottles of Gatorade, fried chicken, and French fries. She turned back to Taven. “Will that work for you?”
He was leaned against the window, eyes closed, but he curled his thumb and index finger into the “perfect” sign.
Melissa and I ran in, got the goods, and brought everything back out to the car. My mother drove us home, silent. I wondered what she was thinking. If I was going to get a lecture or what. I wouldn’t blame her if that’s what happened. I deserved it.
We pulled into our garage and made our way into the kitchen. She instructed the three of us to eat, then handed us each two Advil, diligently watching as we took our pills.
“What’s Taven’s curfew?” she asked.
“None tonight!” Taven chimed in with victory.
I picked at a fry, painting swirling patterns with it through some ketchup. “He was supposed to stay the night at a friend’s house.”
My mom nodded, satisfied with that answer, I suppose. She said she was going back to bed, and instructed us to keep an eye on Taven and call her if we needed anything.
All I could think was how much trouble was I in, and where were we all going to sleep?
Melissa and I ended up crashing in my bed, and Taven insisted we leave him be on my bathroom floor. At some point I woke up to the sound of him getting sick, but when I tried to wander into the bathroom to check up on him, the door was locked. I lightly tapped, but he ignored it.
I stared at the closed door, a heavy sigh escaping me, hoping he was okay. It broke my heart to hear him like that and not be able to help him. I wanted to at least offer him some comfort, but I knew him well enough to know he was probably embarrassed and wanted to be left alone.
Being on the other side of the door made me really sad for some reason. It was almost like a strange feeling of rejection. I was picturing him there over the toilet, miserable as he tossed up fried chicken and a sickening combination of alcohol. I wanted to be with him and make him feel better, but I couldn’t. He’d shut me out.
The next day, I was the first of the three of us to wake up. I wandered down into the kitchen where my mom sat at the table in her robe with a cup of coffee, staring at her phone. “Grab yourself a cup,” she said, eyes glued to her screen. “You might want some today.”
I didn’t usually drink coffee, but I did as instructed and poured myself some of the sludge, followed by a heavy dose of cream and sugar. “Top off?” I asked, lifting the pot toward her, and she raised her mug for me.
I filled her coffee, replaced the pot and sat down in front of her. I was itching for her to say something, but she remained quiet. “Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“Tennis at the club,” she said, still not looking at me. I waited for her to say more, to share whether or not she had mentioned last night to him, but she said nothing.
When I finally couldn’t take it anymore, I broke our silence. “Thank you for getting us last night,” I said.
She looked up at me, blue eyes looking sad, and put her mug down. “I’ll always come get you anytime you need me. I hope you know that.”
I nodded, feeling guilty. “You’re not mad?”
She sighed and leaned forward in her seat, reaching for my hand. “I’m not mad. You’re a straight-A student who makes my parenting job easy. If anything, I’m happy you’re allowing yourself some fun.”
“Maybe less fun, next time,” I said, sipping my coffee and feeling incrementally better.
My mom sighed. “You’re young. I was once young too, trust me. If a night of too many drinks is the worst you do, then I’m lucky.” She released my hand and rose to a stand before walking to the junk drawer, pulling out her cigarettes. “Come on,” she said. “Step out with me.”
We walked out to our deck, overlooking the pool, newly opened for the season but still too cold for any real use. It was late April, and I pulled my cardigan closer against my chest while my mother lit her cigarette, a strangely comforting smell that I loved, bad as it was. I watched her profile as she let out an exhale of smoke. “I see drinks are now on your hobby list. Hopefully not cigarettes too?” she asked, holding up hers in reference.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that no, because her own habits had succeeded in turning me off from the whole thing. While I’d probably forever associate the smell with my mom and all things nurturing and sweet, I knew better than to fall into my own addiction of them. “No, I don’t smoke,” was all I said.
“Good.” She took another drag and turned to me, waving off the smoke that wafted toward my face. “Desiree, sweetie. I’m glad you reached out to Dylan last night, that was a smart move. Next time, if there is a next time,” she said, eyebrow raised at me, “you can just call me, alright?”
I nodded, not sure if she was mad about last night or hurt that I didn’t call her first. Maybe it was both.
“How’s Taven doing?” she asked.
I answered truthfully. “I’m not sure, he locked himself in the bathroom, but I know he got sick.”
“That’s for the best.”
I leaned against the railing and sipped my coffee, trying to clear my fuzzy head. “You didn’t tell his mom, did you?” I asked, praying that my mom wouldn’t feel obligated to rat him out.
The smoke swirled around my mother in mesmerizing waves, and she looked back out to the yard and trees beyond. “No. I don’t think she’d be too happy to learn her son had been imbibing so carelessly.”
“Thank you,” I said with relief. It wasn’t enough to convey my gratitude, but there were no words to express my fears of the formidable Lynda Carlisle thinking her son was even more of a fuck-up than she already seemed to think he was. Or worse, for her to see me as being a bad influence.
My mom took one final drag of her cigarette before jabbing it out in the sand filled crystal ashtray she kept outside. She crossed her arms and looked at me. “Desiree, I didn’t keep my mouth shut for you, or even for Taven. I did it for Lynda, because I know her and I know how much this would worry her.”
“Oh,” was all I said. I looked down at my bare feet against the wood of our deck, feeling more guilty by the minute.
“I’m not a stranger to kids and house parties and drinking. I get it. I raised your brother, remember?” she says, and I look back up at her to see her giving me a little half-smile.
“Couldn’t have been easy,” I joke.
She laughs. “Well, your brother has a very naturally charismatic way of talking himself out of trouble. He’s like your father in that sense, I suppose.”
“Two peas in a pod.” I couldn’t be sure if my mother had a favorite child, but if she did, it would be Dylan. Not like she made it obvious, but she seemed to relate to him better. My parents and brother were the fun and carefree types. I was the quiet goodie-two-shoes. I knew I made my parents proud, but I also knew they wished I were a little more…something. I was constantly being told to lighten up or stop being so sensitive, to quit taking everything so seriously. They meant well, I know they did. I just felt like an outsider sometimes, the misunderstood, quiet, and sensitive soul.
My mom was slowly nodding, her expression pensive. “You and Taven strike me as a little more…I don’t know. Fragile, perhaps. Maybe it’s because you two are the babies, and us mothers subconsciously keep you in our minds as younger than you are.”
I looked down at my coffee, mindlessly blowing on it and watching the ripples of brown liquid. “That makes sense,” I said. “But you don’t have to worry about me.”
She sighed. “Not yet, but give it time.” I looked up at her with a frown, but she just smiled, leaning her elbows back on the railing. “Relax, it was a joke.”
“Very funny.”
She ignored me and continued. “My point is, I may not need to worry about you, but I do know Lynda worries about Taven. She thinks he’s not as driven as Jacqui, or as focused as both Lynda and Bill are hard-wired to be. These are her words not mine,” she clarifies.
I was immediately defensive. “Yes, he is. Taven has all kinds of dreams of what he wants to do with his life and the adventures he wants to have. Just because he’s not some straight-A student doesn’t mean he’s a screw-up,” I said, irritated at the insinuation.
My mom raised up her hands. “Don’t kill the messenger, I’m just relaying what she’s shared, that’s all. But don’t make it a habit of thinking I’ll always keep my mouth shut to her, okay? This was a one-time thing. And I don’t know if Taven just got carried away last night and will live and learn or what, but what I do know is you both need to look out for each other, okay? Especially when it comes to being out at random parties and downing whatever alcohol is available, not knowing who bought it or what the hell you’re even consuming. You’re both entirely too young to be making drinking a regular habit. It’s a slippery slope, Desiree.”
I groaned, putting my coffee down and resting my arms on the deck railing, laying my head in them. “Last night was not a regular thing, I promise.”
I knew I deserved a lecture, but I hated every minute of feeling like I disappointed her or that she needed to worry about me. I felt horribly small and mortified, listening to her attempt to give me life lessons I never wanted to think about in the first place. I never even really drank before last night! But I couldn’t exactly say the same thing for Taven, so I figured I’d rather not say anything at all.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m glad to hear that. But Desiree—look at me, honey,” she said, pushing my hair from my face and running her hands through it, combing it down my back. I turned to face her, still keeping my head down. “I feel the need to remind you how vulnerable a young girl can be, especially if she’s been drinking.”
“I didn’t take any drinks from anyone. I poured them myself, or Melissa or Taven poured them. And he wouldn’t poison me, I’m pretty sure,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, but knowing how painfully immature I probably sounded when she was trying to give me a valuable warning.
My mom continued stroking my hair, a look of tenderness and sadness in her eyes. “I know he wouldn’t, sweetie. But remember this—if he’s passed out drunk somewhere and you’re a little tipsy too…”
“Yeah?” I asked when she faded off.
She sighed. “And harm comes your way, who’s going to be there to protect you?”