10. Abigail – “Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”-Victor Hugo
10
Abigail
“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”-Victor Hugo
When Blake ghosted me this time, it wasn’t as hard to deal with since we weren't hanging out twice a week. Now, he hung out with the rich kids who drove expensive cars and wore the latest trends on their bodies and feet. By the way, a teenager driving a costly car was hilarious. Seeing an older man driving an expensive car is one thing, but it gives you a sour taste when you see a stuck-up teenager in one. The rotten apple always got what their little black, spoiled hearts desired.
Over this course of time of no talking or exchanging any communication, I realized the only thing Blake and I shared was music and our addictions until he kissed me in the car four days ago. I went through all the emotions of why, and then I thought about all the feelings he must have felt, which led me to believe he regretted ever kissing me at all. My mind told me that, but my gut told me otherwise. I’m not the clingy, codependent type, but I reached out to him yesterday. The silence won the better part of my judgment, and according to Adalee, once you cave in, it doesn’t matter how many texts or calls you send after that initial first text or call. She compared it to the first pee that you let go of when you were drunk. It was all downhill from there, and you won’t be able to stop the more you drank: it was an odd analogy and one I barely understood since I’ve never drank in my life, but I took her word for it. And without overthinking it, I sent him another text.
Call me. I know you see my texts. I just want to know you’re okay.
I put my phone down and continued spreading peanut butter on the celery sticks. The buttery scent reminded me of the cookies Blake brought me at lunch. The ooey-gooey-ness would melt in my mouth. I missed the Blake that was thoughtful and not only brought me sweets but was sweet. My hands were so shaky that the knife fell to the floor. I cursed out loud, picked it up, and threw it in the sink.
“Whoa, are you okay?” Adalee says as she walks into the kitchen, heading straight to the refrigerator. We barely talked anymore since she was in college now, and she and Ahmad spent every spare minute together.
“Ya, I’m fine.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?” she says as she plops on the bar stool in front of the island.
“Who?” I say, trying to act nonchalant about the whole situation
“I'm not dumb, Abigail. I’m your sister, and you aren't very good at hiding your emotions. Like, at all.” She twists the bottle of water open, downing it in one breath.
“Okay, fine, ya, it’s him. He’s just frustrating. I mean, I don’t get it. First, he distances himself by not letting me hang out with him and the band, which now makes sense since they all messed around with their girlfriends behind their backs, but that’s beside the point. We text every day. And then,” I point the knife at her as I speak a mile a minute. “He kissed me on my birthday in his car four nights ago, and now he is acting like I don’t exist.”
“Ooh, la la. So that’s what you guys have been doing when you sneak out?”
I turn to face her. “How did you know I was sneaking out?” I say as I catch my breath.
“Come on, Abigail. We still share a room with bunk beds since Dad's too cheap to buy a bigger house and new furniture.” She briefly looks up to the ceiling and then back at me before continuing. “God, I can’t wait to move out and make my own money once I graduate.” She says under her breath as she snags one of my celery sticks and takes a hearty bite.
I place my elbows on the counter and let my face fall into my hands. “I just don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to. Men are idiots. Just know he’ll call you when he’s done playing the game.”
“But I’m not playing a game.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She says with her mouthful. “They will play them anyways, sucking you in.” Boys love games, but they love the chase even more, so they are unavailable.” She takes another bite of the celery stick.
“Is that why you love to fuck men up mentally, as you say?”
“Heck ya, look at you right now? Why should we sit and mope around while they’re out doing God knows what?” she waves the celery stick in a circular motion. You should reach out to another guy. Better yet, snap a photo of you out with one, then post it on Instagram.”
I looked down at my hands and then back at her. She knew exactly what I was saying without saying a word. I didn’t know any other guys. Heck, I didn’t even have friends. Toby was right, I was pathetic.
“You know what, don’t even text him back or respond when he decides to be available.”
“I already did.”
“How many times?” She dips her chin at me as if she is already disappointed in my answer before I tell her.
“Two,” my answer comes out reluctantly.
She bounces her head back and forth, deciphering the options. “That’s still salvageable. Don't contact him anymore, though.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off.
“I know it's going to be hard, but trust me. If he ghosts you for one day, you ghost him for two. He will contact you. Mark my word. All men are simple-minded creatures, and once you master their minds, knowing their next moves nine times out of ten, it’s easy to play the game.” She wiggles the celery at me once before finishing it off in one bite.
Her phone started to ring, and she answered it. “Hey baby, ya, I’m ready. Okay,cool. Be right there.” She jumped off the seat and said, “Ahad and I are going to work out at the gym and then grab a bite to eat.”
“Oh, cool. Have fun.” I start to put the dishes in the sink to help clean up before I get lectured to do it anyway.
“Do you want to come?” She says hesitantly. My eyes dart to hers.
“Me?”
“No, the person behind you. Ya, you. Who else would I be talking to?” She laughs lightly, as if this was some normal, every day request. Adalee never invited me out, anywhere.
“Y-Ya. Sure.”
“It will help keep you distracted. Grab your tennis shoes. He’ll be here in five minutes.” Without hesitation, I do what she says, hiding my inner smile.
My sister was right. After three days of not giving in, Blake messaged me back to back on the dot at 11:11 a.m. right when my orchestra teacher was getting into character, flinging his arms in the air like loose flanges.
I wish for Abigail to forgive me so I can kiss her again.
I wish for her to forgive me so she will smile at me again.
I wish for Abigail to send me sweet songs and for our friendship to go back to what it used to be, except friends who kiss now.
As much as I wanted to give in and text him back, my sister instructed me not to. So I stood my ground and shoved my phone back in my backpack.
A few hours later, when I was home in my bedroom, he texted me again.
3:30 p.m: Abs, you there?
4:30 pm.: Okay, you have every right to be mad, but I have a legitimate reason for not reaching out in a few days.
Oh, my sweet toxic wish, don’t sting me back even worse as my punishment. I am sorry, and I miss you.
My heart nearly exploded as I saw text after text coming from him.
Okay, screw what my sister said. I couldn’t wait six days or even a second longer to talk to him. I picked up my phone and typed out a text.
Be careful what you wish for.
There she is.
Ya, I tried to appear mysterious since it is one of my signature qualities, but you make it hard to resist.
A swirl of warmth dances in my core as the dots pop up on my screen, letting me know he’s texting me back.
It’s the seductress in me—winky face.
Okay, what did you want to tell me, and what is your excuse for not reaching out, as you say, Blake Kilian? It better be a darn good one.
I want to talk in person. I can’t meet tonight, but how about this weekend? I will come to your house at 11:11, and you can sneak out. We can do our usual and hang, talk, listen to music, and maybe let me steal another kiss from you again.- kissy face emoji, heart emoji. Tongue emoji.
The butterflies in my stomach come to life as the images register from my eyes to my brain, and I contemplate what they mean. He does care about me.
See you then, Toxic Twin. I guess wishes can come true more than once. 11:11 Smiley face.
The weekend felt like forever to get here, but when the clock turned eleven, I rolled out of bed and snuck out of my window, putting pillows in bed, disguising myself to look like I was still in my room if my mom peeked inside. I carefully shut the window when my feet were planted on the ground, and the moonlight helped me see where I was going as I walked up to Blake’s car. His headlights were turned off, but his engine was still running. Opening the door, I quickly slipped inside.
80s music softly played throughout his speakers, and a wicked grin spread across his face when I looked at him.
“There you are.” He unbuckles his seat and leans over to kiss me on the cheek. I smell weed on his breath, but I don’t say anything as he stares at my reaction. “So fucking addictive,” he says as he dives in for my lips this time, swiping his tongue across my bottom lip first, and I open for him. Letting him devour my mouth, our tongues swirl around and around, and I let out an involuntary whimper as the heat between my legs grows. I am curious to feel him and know what it would be like to have him inside me. He cups one of my breasts through my pajama tops and squeezes hard but not too hard, just enough to make me clench my thighs together. I let instinct take over and reach for his belt, designer, I’m sure. But like a ninja, he grabs my wrists tightly, stopping me.
“Wh-what’s wrong?” I said, out of breath. I noticed a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead as he sat back in his seat, adjusting himself.
“You’re not ready for that yet, sweetheart.”
I shake my head in confusion. “And how do you know?”
“Because we’re the same, remember? Plus, that’s not why I wanted to see you tonight.”
“Then why did you want to see me?” I ask softly, leaning closer to him, but he backs away as if I really was toxic and I could sting him at any moment.
“Are you mad that I’m not treating you like one of the little sluts that come in my room or car at night?”
His words take the breath out of me. I wasn’t expecting him to say that, but I never know what to expect from Blake Killian's mouth these days. So damn moody.
“No, I-I just don’t know why you don’t want to do that with me.”
“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, I do. I really do.”
“Then what is it? Because,” I lower my gaze, looking at my hands, “because I’m not pretty enough.” My voice softens at the last word.
“sweetheart, you are beautiful. He moves a strand of hair from my face. “You’re special to me. And stopping this is showing you how true what I’m saying to you, is. But you’re not ready like I said. So I don’t want to be the one you hate after you figure that out.”
“Are you serious right now? You're the only guy I’ve even kissed. Why would I hate you? If anything, it makes sense to take things further.”
I silently curse myself for admitting how pathetic I am, openly and willingly just now, to Blake.
“Exactly, and if you are hungry for a kiss, I can only imagine once you get a taste of more.”
He was talking in riddles, and he seemed slightly out of character. I wanted to ask him if he was on something other than marijuana, but I also didn’t want to press and push him away, not when I finally got him back. So I decided I would ask tomorrow. I wanted to know why he didn’t meet me outside for lunch every day like he usually did. Before, things got so complicated. I was about to crack a joke and tell him how much I missed his peanut butter cookies when his phone went off.
He picks it up, the light illuminating his face. Instead of responding through a text, he calls, placing the phone to his ear. Everything he does is at ease and with a smooth demeanor. He makes me want to be calm and feel relaxed. He is a walking enigma to me. I don’t know why he doesn’t feel comfortable being sober. If I were half as cool as him, I wouldn’t want anything to ruin it, especially drugs.
“I told you, no texting that shit. Always call.” The other person speaks before he says, “Give me ten.”
Then he places his phone on the dashboard, “We need to make a little run.”
“A little run?”
“Ya, put your seatbelt on.”
I do as I’m told without hesitation. He turns up the music as I try to relax. Playing Prince usually puts me in a good mood, but my nerves were so shot right now that nothing would put my mind at ease until I knew where we were going.
After precisely ten minutes, Blake punches in a code, and a gate opens to an apartment complex. It wasn’t run down or located in what would be considered the ghetto part of town, so drugs weren’t my first conclusion, but what else could he be dropping off at this time of night? He strolls through the windy streets, and without being able to hold my tongue any longer, I ask, “What are you doing?”
He pulls into a vacant parking spot, parks the car, and turns it off before looking over his shoulder at me with one hand on the doorknob. “Wait here for a second. I’ll be right back. Don’t get out of this car. You got it?”
I want to scream, punch him, slap him, tell him to stop, but all I can manage is a slight nod.
When he shuts the door, I bang the back of my head against the car seat multiple times and growl, letting my frustration out.
“He better not be fucking dealing drugs,” I say into the nothingness. I look down at my phone and clock the time since that’s all I can do until he returns.
Exactly eleven minutes later, I see him walking back to the car, and my heart finally starts to slow, along with my pounding head.
As soon as he walks to the car, I’m already planning what to say to him.
“What the fuck, Blake? Are you dealing drugs now? Is that why you've been MIA?”
He tries to hide his grin, which only pisses me off more. “Seriously, you think being around drugs isn’t going to tempt you? That’s like asking an alcoholic to open a liquor store. Jesus Christ.” I throw my hands up in the air
“Relax, it’s not drugs. It’s steroids.”
My eyes snap to his. “Steroids?”
“Ya, you think I got this big because I ate more and lifted? I know you are smarter than that, sweetheart.”
“Don’t you dare sweetheart me and downplay this. Why? I-I just don’t get it. Why are you doing any of this?” I motion my hand back and forth at the windshield.
“Why not? Besides, I don’t want to ask my brother or my dad for shit. The more my brothers bitch-ass wife talks about putting me in military school, the more I want to say fuck you to both of them. I’m saving up as much as I can, and once I turn eighteen, which isn’t far off, I’m fucking out of that he’ll hole. And if I have to do some illegal shit in the meantime, so be it.”
Military school? There was so much about him I didn’t know anymore
“Why don’t you just get a job?” I decided to ask why his brother's wife was jumping to drastic measures later when he had calmed down and was more mentally stable.
“Because I refuse to be anyone’s bitch exchanging my time for money. Plus, my goal is to open a weed shop, and I’ve been studying up on plants and learning about botany.”
“So that’s your plan now. To be a dope provider?”
“Ya, weed doesn’t hurt anyone. If anything, it’s been my fucking savior over Jesus when it comes to relapsing. It’s only been outlawed because our greedy government didn’t know how to regulate it or tax it, so they made everyone believe it’s bad for you. Look up marijuana wars on YouTube. Educate yourself. Since the thirties, we’ve been brainwashed to believe the shit is bad, but if that’s the case, why the fuck is it safe to give to cancer patients and claim to help with lots of medical issues over man-made pills, huh?”
With his talk, he looked more mature at this moment, as if he had grown ten years older.
“What about music? I thought you wanted to pursue that. It was your dream to be a famous rock-star artist.” My tone is soft now, pleading almost.
He turns his gaze away from me. “Well, sometimes the wishes we truly want don’t come true, sweetheart. So we have to make new ones.”
“But you're good, Blake. I’ve heard you. You can pursue the guitar, I just don’t-”
“Stop,” he says, cutting me off. “It was a stupid dream, like my dad said. I have better luck with trying to go pro. I already have an upper hand since my dad and brother are in it. Sometimes fate isn’t about what you want it to be, but what you must do because it makes sense. Besides, when you have a parent down your back constantly pushing you to play football, you tell me how you can keep your passion alive for something you used to live for?”
I stared at Blake, dumbfounded. It was like he was a completely different person, and I hated his dad for it. I never met him, but I already hated him. I hated his brother, too, for not stepping in and defending Blake. That’s what older siblings did, stood up for their brothers or sisters. People glorified football in this country and even more so in this town, and it made me sick.
“You talk about brainwashing,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.
“Look, you have no idea what it’s like to live with parents that have never been there for you. Parents that are fucking strangers. I look at my dad, and I don’t even know the guy. Your parents may be fucked up, but at least they are together, and at least they remember your fucking birthday, and not only that,they make an effort to be there when it happens once a year.”
I hold back my tears as I see the pain etched on his face. Uncrossing my arms, I have the urge to reach for him, but he’s so stiff now that I know I shouldn’t, so I refrain, even though he looks so tempting. Broken and all, Blake Killian was beautiful. He was a dream, a toxic wish came true.
“Then stop.” I finally say.
He furrowed his eyebrows at me. “Stop what?”
“Stop shutting me out. Whatever you want to say, say it. I may understand more than you know, Blake. Hell, I don’t even have a car like my sister does. So, I know what it’s like to feel unwanted like life isn’t fair because it isn’t. And just because my parents are together doesn’t mean I’m treated differently than you are. So instead of feeling sorry for yourself, be my friend, like you used to be, and I’ll be yours.”
He looks over at me and smiles. Reaching for my face, “God, you are so fucking perfect.” And we stay like that for what seemed like hours, but I didn’t want him to stop looking at me. Taking me in the way he was, like I was the air he needed to breathe.
Reluctantly, he breaks away.
“C’mon, I need to get you back home. But I have one more stop on the way.”
I reach for my seatbelt again, and the pit of my stomach screams at me. I hope he is telling the truth, and he isn’t dealing hard-core drugs and only steroids. That was bad enough, but I could at least tolerate people who wanted to get big. If they wanted to screw up their hormones and shrink their balls for the sake of muscles, that was on them. I took a deep breath as he put the car in reverse, and we pulled out of the parking lot. I prayed we didn’t end up in jail tonight or, worse, the hospital.