Falling (Bits and Pieces, Book 1)

  * * *

  When I got home that night, I was tired. I felt exhausted. The evening was a roller coaster in the ocean. I had the highest of highs at the carnival, laughing so carefree and not thinking about anything at all. It felt good not to think, like freedom. Then the coaster dropped into the depths of the ocean, suffocating me when I got to my cousin’s house and heard them laughing at me, knowing that I was outside and not letting me in. And here I was, yet again, thinking, worrying and feeling alone.

  I didn’t want to be alone. But what could I do? I couldn’t sneak out, I didn’t have the guts for that. Besides, with my wonderful luck, I’d get caught or kidnapped or something. So, I did the only thing I could dare to do. I picked up the phone and called Patrick. If I got caught calling a guy this late at night, at least the punishment would be less severe than sneaking out.

  I called him hoping to get my mind off my family. I wanted to return to the me that I was when I was with him and his brother at the carnival. I tried to sound like myself when he answered, “Hi, Patrick. Thanks again for taking me to the carnival. Thank Andy again too.” Yeah, I don’t think I sounded convincing. My voice was too flat and dead.

  “No problem. Anytime. We both had a lot of fun. He couldn’t believe that you’ve never been.” He sounded confused, he wasn’t expecting me to call him back tonight and the fact that it was so late. “Did they say ‘no’ to next weekend?”

  I felt the desolation in my voice. “I didn’t ask.” I was desperately trying to keep it together. I wanted to steer the conversation to happy, fun stuff but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how when I felt this awful.

  “What’s wrong?” He sounded hesitant to ask, like he didn’t really want to know. Great, I was sounding like a freak to him too and was going to lose my link to normalness. Should I say what happened? Hell, if I was going to lose his friendship, I might as well speak my mind. I’ve lost my family, what is it to lose one more person?

  “I don’t know…” My voice trailed off. I did know, but I didn’t know how to explain it. It was a cop out answer.

  “Liz,” he said softly, “You do know that you can tell me anything.”

  “Yeah?” I barely whispered. My heart was pounding and yet I felt frozen in time and space. “Well, you know how much fun I had tonight with you and Andy. And how much I needed it. You showed me how to have fun and I’m grateful. I really am. It’s just that, maybe I wasn’t meant to. Maybe I wasn’t meant to have fun and laugh and be carefree. Maybe my life wasn’t supposed to have that.”

  “Of course it is.” He insisted.

  “No, I don’t think so. As much as I want it to be, it’s not.” I felt like I was rambling.

  “What happened when we dropped you off?”

  I told him what happened, well tried to between holding back my tears—I couldn’t let my folks hear me. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction nor did I want to explain myself to them. “I just don’t understand what they want from me. I get good grades, I stay out of trouble. I know I’m different from others, have different interests than them, but…I can’t…” My voice trailed off and I really didn’t know what else to say. I felt empty.

  Patrick was silent for a moment, then his voice was gentle but intense. “Liz…you aren’t thinking about doing anything stupid, are you?”

  His words surprised me. It was like he put words to what I was feeling and wanted to do, words to something that I didn’t want to admit to him or anyone else. I wanted to respond, but didn’t know how to. “Liz? Are you still there?” I guess I let the silence go on too long.

  “Yeah.” I had this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was like getting caught doing something and having to explain yourself. Or like having that uncomfortable conversation with your parents about boys—I’d only assume it would be worse for the ‘sex talk’ but my parents never subjected me to that one, we avoided the topic entirely. To me it meant that I knew the truth and didn’t want to speak it and wanted to avoid the conversation. But, it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. I could hang up, which would probably mean Patrick would show up at my door and freak my parents out, or worse, the police would come banging at the door. But, really, what did I care? They didn’t understand me or want me anyway.

  “Liz, promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  That feeling in the pit of my stomach and that the world around me was closing in was getting more intense. My voice was so distant when I finally mumbled. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Please?” He was begging me, and I wished I could say something that would make him feel better, give him the answer he wanted. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to lie to him and his last memory of me be a lie. “Can you at least not do anything in the next five minutes? Please? Give me five minutes. Please, Liz, please.”

  I felt raw. Empty. Defeated by life. I didn’t want to hurt Patrick, although I knew that was what was happening. That sick feeling in my stomach was intensifying again as I started to speak, “Ok. Five minutes. I can’t promise anything else.”

  “Ok. Five minutes, you promised. I’m going to call you right back. Stay by the phone. Five minutes.” His voice was anxious and trembling.

  “Ok.” I blinked away the tears that were forming in my eyes and hung up the phone.

  While I waited for the phone to ring, I sat on my bed, staring at it. I set my cell phone to vibrate, at least I hoped I did. I didn’t want to chance that my parents might hear the phone ring. I needed to pick it up at the first hint of a ring, just in case I didn’t set it right. If I could do that, then my folks wouldn’t know I was on the phone at all. I thought, very seriously, about what I’d do, how I’d do it. I just wanted to sleep. I wasn’t scared thinking about it, but, I guess, that in and of itself was scary. Wow, how far gone was I that I was ready to do this? That it seemed logical. I kept thinking about it, after all, I was good at that, sometimes too good. And, all logic seemed to point to that direction.

  It was now past midnight and three minutes has passed since I hung up the phone. Patrick had two more minutes before I was released from that promise and I could continue to let my thoughts wander to wherever they led me. I didn’t think about what he might be doing, I didn’t care. I had other things to think about, but at the same time, my mind was numb.

  This has been the longest three minutes of my life. My life. Hmmm. Another tick of the clock passed. One minute to go and I’d be free to welcome the path I’d chosen. The phone suddenly vibrated in my hand, I’d swear that I felt it move before it rang. I immediately picked up the phone, “Hello.” Dejection oozed from my voice, I could hear it. It was like I was already having some out of body experience.

  “Liz,” I detected a slight relief in his voice and then it started to crack, “Thank you. Thanks for keeping your promise.”

  “I said I would.”

  “I was afraid that you wouldn’t. That you wouldn’t pick up and I didn’t know what I’d do if that happened. Sorry I was gone so long. I didn’t want to leave you, but…” He sighed nervously. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

  “You can ask, but I can’t promise anything else.” Tears were starting to well up in my eyes as my voice broke.

  “Don’t be mad at me. I…” He started.

  “What the hell did you do?” My voice turned angry. If I had venom to spit, I would have. Not that it would have done any good through the phone. I paused briefly, trying to control my fury. Then, all of a sudden, like a balloon that had been filled too quickly, the outrage popped and I was left feeling flat. What did it matter, really, anyway? I guess I really couldn’t trust anyone. “I trusted you. I can’t believe you. I’m sorry I ever said anything to you. I’m going now.”

  “Don’t hang up! Please! Liz!” He pleaded with me, but I couldn’t say anything. I felt betrayed. I didn’t think I could hurt anymore than I already did. I started to pull the phone away from my ear when I heard another voice on the line.

  I f
roze. The voice was deeper than Patrick’s and I knew it well. Crap. I can’t believe Patrick. I should have known.

  “Liz? Elizabeth?” The voice was calm but urgent. Crap.

  “Liz. Please don’t hang up. Don’t hate me. I didn’t know what else to do. I had to call Mr. D.” Yeah, Patrick called our physics teacher. Patrick considered him a mentor and went to him with all sorts of stuff for help. Figures he’d call him. Doesn’t mean I’d like it. Crap. I hate three way or conference calling, whatever the hell it is. “You there? Please say something.” Patrick begged.

  “What?” I said bitterly. I just wanted him to go away and leave me alone.

  “Liz, I hope it’s okay that Patrick called me.”

  Like I had a choice. I felt betrayed. “Patrick, I can’t believe you did this. It was personal.”

  “I don’t really know what’s going on. All I know is that you are really upset and that he’s really afraid. Don’t be mad at him. I insisted that I was on the line when he called you back.” He paused. I don’t know if he was deciding on what to say next or to check if I hung up. “Can you tell me why you’re so upset?”

  “No.” I didn’t feel like being the good student right now and answer the teacher’s questions. Why should I? I wasn’t in school.

  “Okay. What about… Why is Patrick so scared? Can you explain why?” If he didn’t teach Physics, I would have thought he was asking questions for English class.

  My head was spinning. I wanted it to stop. I wanted everything to stop. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” I was muttering and rocking myself back and forth.

  “You can’t do what, Liz?”

  “I can’t have this conversation.” I hid my face with my free hand as if I was trying to avoid looking at Mr. D. I could imagine him staring at me waiting for an answer. When I realized I was at home and not at school, I put my hand down and shook my head. I had to stop this, I couldn’t do this anymore.

  “I only want to help. I want to help you and Patrick.” Every time he mentioned Patrick, a chill ran down through me.

  “No. You want to fix things. It can’t be fixed. It’s broken. I can’t be fixed. It’s not worth the effort to fix me, I’m broken. ”

  “You don’t mean that. You are worth the effort. I think so. Patrick thinks so. I don’t believe that you don’t.” I wished he stopped speaking for Patrick. What the hell did he tell Mr. D? Part of me wondered where the hell Patrick was in this conversation, why he left me alone, cornered with a teacher (granted a teacher I really respected). Part of me was thankful that at least they weren’t double teaming me, then I would really feel cornered.

  “I don’t. Why should I? My family obviously doesn’t think I’m worth it.”

  “Forget about your family right now. What do you think?”

  “That I’ve shattered into a million pieces and I just want to melt away and disappear. I’m tired… I’m tired of fighting and struggling and thinking and worrying. I feel like I’m stuck in some infinite loop, like a computer, and nothing works and the stupid thing just hangs. No matter what you try to do, what key combinations you push, the computer doesn’t work right. You just want to throw it out the window. There’s only one thing to do, pull the plug.” As soon as I said it, I knew I said too much, admitted too much. Whatever Patrick did or didn’t say to him, he had to know now why Patrick was scared. Or at least have it confirmed. Whatever.

  “Most broken computers can be fixed.” It was like Mr. D was trying carefully to choose his words. “And throwing it out the window would be a waste of a good computer.”

  Why was I bothering to argue with him? Never argue with a teacher, you’ll never win. Doesn’t matter if you are right or not, you’ll never win. It’s easier to just nod your head and pretend like you agree, that’s all they really want anyway. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and gathered up whatever miniscule pieces of strength and politeness I had left. “Look, Mr. D, sorry for bothering you so late at night. I appreciate it. You really are a great teacher. But…I have to go now. Sorry for wasting your time.”

  “No, Liz. It was never a waste.” His voice was no longer had that calm quality of a teacher. It turned nervous and tense. “Wait. Don’t hang up. Patrick?”

  “I’m here.” He said softly. I had almost forgotten that Patrick was still on the line.

  I took another deep breath, “Patrick, I’m sorry for dragging you through all this. You deserve a better friend than me. Thanks for tonight.”

  “Can you do me one more thing?” Patrick asked.

  “I already did. I talked to Mr. D.” I told him, and hung up the phone.