Page 42 of The Way the Heart Breaks: Jade’s Story

I do, and it says Ross Construction.

“It’s gonna be a good year.” I tap the roof of the car, then open the door and slide in. “A damn good year. “

Red shorts on and raven hair seared in my head, I walk into the house, and I see boxes packed and sitting by the door.

“We’re taking a few things up to Amy and Lucy’s apartment. You haven’t been there in a while. Get changed into something to wear to dinner, and we’ll wait.”

I glance from my mother to Dad, and he gives me slightly pleading eyes. My father is the most passive person I know. Lucas uses another term, pussy. It’s so messed up that the most non-confrontational man I’ve ever met married the epitome of confrontation.

Growing up, he was the nurturer. Sometimes I wonder if, in doing so, he’s given Mom the green flag to be a tyrant. In not-so-many words, I asked him that once, and he said she wasn’t made of stone. Dad never said anything that didn’t hold true; his silence, or lack of putting Mom in her place, even when she needed it the most, was clearly to keep the peace.

I don’t want to cave, especially not after I drew lines with her less than a month ago, but knowing I’m going to crush the mold she thinks she’s shoving me in when I start applying to colleges, I decided to do as asked, for Dad. “Give me ten.”

Binghamton University is less than an hour from home, and both of my sisters attend BU. Now that Amy is a sophomore, she’s moved in with Lucy. Both Amy and Lucy were given a car after freshman year, and our parents pay for everything else. They both work at one of the stations my parents own near the college, and on breaks and weekends, they’re home, under her wing and rule. They shit gold, as far as she’s concerned, and they’re both bitches to me, and Lucy, she’s a lying bitch.

Years ago, during one of Katie Link’s ‘stay-cations’ at a local rehab center, Lucas was staying with us; it was ‘the Christian thing to do’. Mom caught him and Lucy, who is older than him, in a compromising situation. Okay, she was blowing him in the top bunk of my bed. Blamed the whole thing on him. Like he dragged her into my room, drug her up the ladder, and face fucked her while I was asleep below them. They booted him immediately. When I found out this wasn’t the first time she’d done that and told my parents, they told me he was a liar. They have hated my best friend ever since. And me… I lost respect for them. You don’t stand on a cross and piss on the very values your religious foundation is built on. When I told her that, she slapped me across the face. Amy looked away, and Lucy… she looked so damn smug. She knew she got away with it.

That night, my father came into my room, and I turned my back to him. He stayed there until I woke up several hours later to take a piss. He was asleep beside my bed in my bean bag chair. His show of support was not nearly enough.

11

ONE MORE TRY

Jade

“If he says no, don’t throw a fit,” Dad warns as we head up the long dirt driveway toward the Brooks home.

“I don’t throw fits.” I huff.

“Mmm hmm,” he grumbles as he continues up the drive.

Pulling up next to Ryan’s truck, I say a little prayer for strength as I unhook my seat belt and open the door.

When I step out, I see Ryan walk out of the barn, black baseball cap on backward, dark brown hair curling up around it, face scruffy and in need of a shave. I also notice his big brown eyes sweep quickly up my body before boring into mine, holding them so tight I swear I can’t look away. I have that feeling in my stomach again, but when his eyes narrow, another feeling creeps in.

“You here to ask me to go to church, the answer is no.”

I hate that even saying those words, and knowing all of what I’ve done, the changes I’ve made are for naught, and that even though I’m hurt and disappointed, the sound of his deep voice brings me a false sense of comfort.

I square my shoulders. “I didn’t come for that.”

He manages to roll his eyes while still holding mine captive, and I wanna cry, but screw that. I cross my arms over my chest and arch a perfectly shaped brow, feeling the confidence I have fought for months to gain. “I came to ask you something.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and warns, “Probably shouldn’t.”

Screw him, I scream in my head, but manage to calmly ask, “Do I still look like them?”

His plump lips tighten as his eyes narrow, and I wait for an answer I damn well deserve after all I’ve done to change.

I swear, I wish he had just kicked me in the stomach instead of delivering his next words. “You always will.”

Song: Damn I wish I was Your Lover

I made it to church, walked in alone, since Dad still hasn’t been able to come in since that Christmas Eve. I make it through the services. I smile, sing with our choir, and act like I’m supposed to, happy.

I managed not to cry when Dad was late picking me up from church, after I told Uncle John I didn’t need a ride.

I managed to keep it together until I closed the door to my bedroom and faceplanted into my bed, where I finally allowed myself to cry, to be hurt, and yes, angry at myself for once again making things awkward between Ryan and me. So many times, since the night he held me when I was high and Mom… since that night, I let myself believe… no, that’s a lie. I wanted to believe it was more. It was a stupid, childish notion. I’m not a child. And you know what, I am so over feeling like crap about all of it. If I hadn’t put it out there, I wouldn’t have had the answer I needed and wouldn't have allowed myself to move forward.