49. Abigail – “Music touches us emotionally, where words alone cant.” ― Johnny Depp
49
Abigail
“Music touches us emotionally, where words alone can't.” ― Johnny Depp
I pulled up to the parking lot and parked in the back. The school has changed since we moved here. It was bigger since they added onto the auditorium area, and the parking lot seemed even more significant than when Blake and I attended.
Being here alone brought back old memories, feelings of indifference, an outcast. I strolled down the sidewalk. Memories I had chosen to forget forced through my mind as if to say, you will remember this . Remember all the rumors, the stares, and the times I had to hide in the bathroom to eat my lunch. Then there was that period I didn’t have to hide because I wasn’t eating lunch. I was a complete mess, and I still am, but I try to be a healthy version of my toxic self, at least.
I walk up to the bench—the one Blake and I shared so many conversations on. I look at it and notice it has been repainted, too. I sit down and let the warm sun hit my face.
It was November eleventh. Today was our birthday, and I figured since this was the birthday we promised our pact to one another, I should at least honor Blake with my presence where we got to know each other, and what better way to do that than with a peanut butter cookie?
I unraveled the wrapper from the cookie, and the scent alone made me feel like Blake was sitting next to me. I take in the smell before saying,
“Now make a wish,” I said, taking my first bite. I chewed slowly, letting the gooey, sugary-sticky taste fill my palate. I savored the taste and took another one.
Looking down at the cookie, I say to myself.
“No one ever has brought me cookies besides you, and I miss it.”
“I miss you,” I say in a softer tone.
I look around and take in the surroundings, soaking up the memories that come to mind as I sit here—just letting them replay as if I was watching a feel-good movie.
“Man, can you believe we are twenty-two today? Just think we would be planning a wedding right now.” I chuckle to myself.
“Picking out the cake, the colors, the venue, I know you would be telling me it doesn’t have to be big and let's just invite our friends and family, which you know the only family I would invite is my sister. Especially now since I found out where I came from, and it all makes sense now, you know?” I feel my voice crack. “I figured out why I never felt like I belonged to this fucked up family.” I whipped my nose. “I was created because my mom was raped. I’m a demon child. Not just by anyone, nooo, it was by my dad’s brother that I never knew even existed because he’s dead. He was a junkie and died of a heart attack a few months after I was born.”
I laugh, and at the same time, a sob travels up my throat. “Ya, I know you think it’s made up, but it’s not. That’s the reality. My reality.”
The wind brushes against my face, letting my curls flow behind my back as I imagine what Blake would say.
“Ya, fuck em’ I don’t need them, and that’s why instead of honoring a wedding on our twenty-second birthday, I’m thinking about doing something just as crazy.” A smile curled at my lips. “You don’t know her, but her name is Melanie. We call her Mel. She’s become my friend over time, along with Josh, one of your dad's children, he popped out. He said he knew of you but never met you.”
I take another bite of my peanut butter cookie, not trying to think of the calories. I told myself I would eat the cookie and think of how good it tasted. Like Blake used to advise me to do, “Mel’s dad knows many producers and directors since he’s in that type of business.” I watch as the cars pass by. “I found your journal, Blake, and your CD. I haven’t been brave enough to play your CD, but I will tonight since it’s my other birthday present to you. But I came here today to tell you I will make you a star.” I closed my eyes, trying to picture his face, and pretended that his reaction was right before me.
“The world needs to hear your music. To feel your words, and I’m going to make damn sure they do, by putting together the album you never got a chance to, Toxic Wishes. I love the title by the way. I forgot how incredibly talented you are. You were always a rockstar in my eyes, Blake. I wish you stuck around long enough for the world to witness what I’ve known since we met.” I remember the first time I saw him play guitar and how mesmerized I was by the way his fingers moved and his long hair. That covered his face.
“You’ll always be my only wish that never came true. But your dad is right. What’s worse than a wish never coming true is regret. So, I promise to create the best album to present the best songs to producers and music agents. I’m going to try to follow my dream this time. I might as well. It’s the best thing I can do for myself with all this pain. The best thing about music is when it hits you, you feel no pain, right? One of our favorite sayings by Bob Marley.”
I look down at my feet before I get up. “I promise not to wait so long to visit our spot next time. Until then, I hope you're jamming to your guitar up there and say hi to Whitney Houston because she never gets old.” I say into the clouds, squinting my eyes from the bright sun.
On my way home, I decided to stop by my house to grab the rest of my clothes since I would be leaving soon. I know it’s a random decision, but I must make it. I need a break. Mel is right, being out in L.A. was my happy place. I’ll miss my sister and niece, but I told her she could visit anytime. I had to do this. And who knows, maybe I wasn’t meant to finish medical school. All I know is right now, I needed to get out of this town that brought me nothing but heartache and bad memories.
When I got to my parent's house, I pulled my keys out to unlock the door but noticed it was cracked. I slowly opened the door, peeking my head in to find it empty, so I opened it all the way to find no one in the living room. I silently thanked God and began walking to my room. I had left an old suitcase in my closet, so I pulled it out and started putting clothes in it. I tried to hurry, stuffing as much as I could. Nothing else meant anything to me at this point. Except for one picture of my sister and I when we were little, I grabbed that, placing it under all my clothes when I heard him.
“Well, look who it is,” Michael says.
I freeze, my hands gripping my shirt tighter as he stands in the doorway.
“You got some nerve showing up here after upsetting your mother.” I crane my neck around to see Micheal propped up against the wall with one arm. He was holding a drink in his other hand. His eyes looked evil, even more so than usual.
“I’m just grabbing my clothes,” I tell him.
“Your clothes? You forget all the good things I did for you the second you find out we lied about the fucked up way you were brought into this world.”
“I don’t want any trouble. I’m getting my stuff and leaving. You’ll never see me after this.”
He scoffs. “Is that a promise?”He sips his drink. I’m guessing it’s whiskey since he’s acting like an ass more than usual.
I continue to stuff the remaining clothes in the bag hurriedly, now that he’s watching my every move. I zip the suitcase up and start rolling it out of my bedroom.
As I walk past him, he says, “You going to your football player's house? What tricks did you pull to land that one?”
I continue walking.
“Must say. Pretty impressed. They always do say the ugly ones are good at sucking dick.”
I stop dead in my tracks.
“Go to hell. Oh wait, I’m sure you are already there.”
Within seconds, he’s pushing me up against the wall. “You little shit. So ungrateful.”
He’s so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“ I didn’t have to raise you as my own. Instead of feeling sorry for yourself because you found out you were born from rape, why don’t you give me the respect I deserve. Because if it were up to me, you would have been gone a long time ago.”
His eyes were bloodshot, and I could tell he’d been drinking well before I got here. But I don’t let him scare me, not this time. I remain calm.
“Why did you keep me? Why didn’t you just give me up for adoption? I’m sure I would have had a better life if you did. Maybe I could have had parents who acted like I existed.”
“You bitch!” He spits in my face.
I wipe it away, glaring at him now.
“And because of your mother,” he taunts in a haughty tone. “She didn’t want to. She said we would learn to love you, that you were still our child since you were a part of her. But all I saw was my brother. That piece of shit that I knew I shouldn’t have helped. But he was a fuck up, just like you. A mistake just like you.”
A Mistake .
That one word hit me like a ton of bricks, and I try to hold back my emotions. I want to let the tears come flowing out because I felt a little guilty for being so hard on my mom, but the truth is she chose my dad over me. She could have left. She could have fended for herself and taken my sister with us. But she decided to pick this comfortable lifestyle over keeping her daughter safe.
“Interesting because now that I know the story, it makes me wonder.”
He squints his eyes at me as if he’s trying to understand what I’m saying.
“You ever ask yourself if mom liked it? Maybe your brother's dick was more satisfying, and it’s why she still ended up cuming and letting him finish inside her. It's probably why she got pregnant from just one time with him. You guys tried lots of times and never did,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Guess fuck ups give the best fucks.”
I had no idea if what I was saying was true, but I wanted to hurt him. Leave his head as clouded as mine has been all these years. And I know these words may make him angry, but I was prepared for him to get mad.
“How dare you, you bitch!” He raises a hand at me, and A voice stops him
“Micheal!”
We both turn to see my mom.
It looks like she just had her hair done recently, and looks beautiful. “Get the fuck away from her, what is wrong with you?”
“Oh, don’t act like you care now, Ashley.” He leans off of me, and I step aside quickly.
“Don’t forget all the times you bitched and wined when you said she ruined your body. The demon child ruined your body, blah blah blah.”
“You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you?”
I walk past my mom, and she grabs my wrist.
“Wait.” She says.
I turn to face her.
“Where are you going?”
I furrow my brows and tilt my head to my side. Was she concerned about me now? “Why? Are you going to send me a postcard?” Sarcasm slips from my lips.
“No, I-I,” she stumbles over her words. “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”
“I will be because wherever I go, it will be far away from here.” I yank my arm free and grab the handle of my suitcase, and the second I look up, she meets my gaze.
“Abigail, I truly am sorry.”
My eyes burned from the pain. I squeezed my hand around the handlebar tighter.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
She looked like a woman full of regrets, and for the first time, she looked old. She was worn out. I saw the youth she was holding onto. And instead of anger rising from my core, it was pity. It sat there and took a front-row seat as I etched this moment of her in my brain forever. She has no idea how sorry she’ll be once Toxic Wishes is released.
Later that night, I popped the CD in after I poured myself a glass of wine. I sat on the bed in my sister’s guest room and got all cozy. As I sipped on my wine, my heart started to race the minute I pressed play.
Blake appeared on the screen within seconds, and the biggest smile spread across my face. My Blake—even on screen, I could see his cute dimples.
“Well, this is round two of rehab, so I figured what better way to pass the time than a bit of music. We all listen to music for our own reasons, and some say music can heal wounds that others cannot. Sometimes, that’s how I feel, especially while I’m in here surrounded by addiction. And the only thing that’s helped me get through is all the wishes I hope to come true. Every day at 11:11, the most potent wish I hold onto is toxic and selfish, but mine.
Tightness strangles my chest, traveling up my throat, making it hard to breath. I want to turn the TV off, but as soon as he starts playing his guitar, the notes paralyze me along with the words.
It’s this heart that’s going numb. It's all a part of growing up, right? We search for answers that never come. Pray to a God that never seems to answer—holding out for days and better ways when all the pain stays the same. When did this wish become a broken promise?
On a road that feels like I’m going nowhere except for down there. Going Down. The only thing that keeps me holding on is all the broken promises. I can only swear they’ll turn into wishes.
My Toxic wishes.
She is the one that I dream of kissing, that I’m missing.
Her face is the one I see in the distance when I’m pfenning while dreaming.
Just one more wish to make it through because it’s always been you.
My toxic wishes, please come true.