How It Ends Page 10

  “Why? Why would you need more? You had an anxiety attack, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?” She was getting hysterical, and my heart started to pound.

  “Stop it, Mom! You’re freaking me out!”

  “I’m freaking you out? I catch you in here breaking into the drugs you know you’re not supposed to take without supervision and I’m freaking you out?”

  I sat down on the side of the bathtub, trying to breathe slowly. Two attacks in two days was more than I could handle. I looked at the bottle in my hand and wondered how ballistic my mother would go if I popped a pill right in front of her.

  “Stephen!” she screamed, dropping to her knees in front of me. “Are you okay, honey? Are you having an attack? Do you need an ambulance?”

  “No!” I whisper-screamed. “This is nothing, Mom. Just leave me alone for two seconds.”

  The thought of my dad coming made my heart clench alarmingly in my chest. I needed to be alone, but I was afraid that if I ran off, my mom would call 911 or something equally ridiculous.

  My dad sauntered into the bathroom. He knows my mother and her hysteria too well to get worked up until he sees the sight of blood. “Meredith, I swear to God! I was on a conference call. What is the problem?”

  “Look at her!” my mother screeched, pointing at me as though I was at death’s door. “She’s having an anxiety attack and she’s sneaking pills.”

  “Jesus Christ,” my dad muttered, snatching the pills out of my hand and reading the bottle. “This is her own medication, Meredith. If a doctor prescribed it, she can take it. Do you need one?” he asked me.

  I nearly snapped out of the attack from sheer surprise. My dad does not believe in anxiety. He thinks my issues are all in my head and that I need to toughen up instead of making excuses and hiding behind imaginary problems.

  I shook my head at him. “I’m okay.”

  “Good girl.” He turned to my mom. “You. Out!”

  “I don’t think you understand what’s happening here . . .”

  “We’ll discuss it in the other room.”

  My dad rarely yells, but when he does, we listen. Mom pursed her lips and looked at me disapprovingly, then relocked her medicine cabinet before following my dad out of the room.

  I put my head between my knees and took deep breaths. I could hear Mom and Dad fighting in the next room.

  “She’s having a panic attack. We can’t just leave her in there alone.”

  “She’s having a panic attack because you’re panicking her. You were so hysterical that I’m pretty sure the neighbors have called the police by now. You need to calm yourself down. Jessica is just fine until you start freaking out.”

  “She was sneaking pills, Stephen. Those pills are supposed to be given only under supervision.”

  “And did you ask her why she was sneaking them?”

  “It’s because she had a panic attack! I need to find out the details.”

  I heard my dad sigh and then I heard the squeak of their mattress as he sat down. “Meredith, I’m going to be very clear about this, and it’s something you’re not going to want to hear. Jessica is just fine. She’s a shy, nervous teenager, not a deranged lunatic. You’re turning her into a bundle of nerves with your overreactions. This is a crisis entirely invented by you. You’re the one who dragged her to the doctor and had her put on medication, and now you’re freaking out that she’s taking it. You are the one with the issues here, not Jessica.”

  “You have never been supportive of Jessie’s mental health issues.”

  “Because she doesn’t have any mental health issues!” Dad roared. “This is getting ridiculous. I have never, not once, seen Jessie out of control. I have, however, seen you out of control when it comes to her. I think you are the one who needs a visit to the doctor. Now, I don’t want to hear another word about this nonsense. And if you don’t stop pathologizing our daughter, I’m going to drive you to the therapist myself. Deal with your own shit, Meredith, and stop dumping it on Jess.”

  The door slammed, and I could hear Dad storming down the stairs.

  My heart was hammering, but not in an anxiety-attack way. I found that I could breathe deeply, and that my brain was strangely quiet. My dad thinks this is all my mother’s fault. It was a confusing and depressing thought. Do I blame my mom? That was a question that hurt my heart to ask. So instead I cleared my mind and waited for my mom to come back in.

  It took ages.

  When she finally walked into the bathroom, her eyes were rimmed in red. She pasted a smile on her face as she picked up the Ativan bottle Dad had left on the countertop. “I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Morgan on Monday,” she said brightly. “I think it will work out best if we discuss this with him.”

  I nodded, blinking back tears.

  Mom kissed me on the forehead. “I’m sorry I got so worked up. I just worry about you.” She brushed her fingers through my hair and looked me hard in the eyes. “Why don’t you splash some water on your face and brush your hair. Annie came to the door a few minutes ago, and I told her she could wait in your room.”

  My heart wrenched as she walked out of the bathroom. I wanted to talk about what happened—about the things my dad said—but my mom would never do that. She pretends my dad’s opinions don’t matter, but they do.

  I stumbled out of the bathroom, wishing Annie wasn’t waiting for me. I was sure she would see the crisis all over my face. I gave her a halfhearted smile as I walked in, waiting for her to ask what was wrong. Instead, she came running up and gave me a huge hug. “I have the best news for you. But first I have to tell you something that’s gonna piss you off.”

  Great.

  I blinked at her as she barreled ahead, oblivious to the fact that I’d just had a complete meltdown two rooms away.

  “I didn’t have a family thing last night,” she confessed. “I spent the night at Courtney’s house.”

  I felt myself give up. It was the strangest sensation. I’d feared Annie abandoning me for Courtney for so long, and now that it was happening, I couldn’t muster the energy to care. All the fight had left me.

  I walked over and sat on my bed, looking at Annie through tears of resignation.

  “I knew you’d be pissed. I should have just told you the truth. But here’s the thing: Courtney and Larissa feel bad about everything that happened in the past, and they agreed to try again.”

  Her words made no sense. “Try what again?”

  “Being friends. Getting over the past. I know a lot of shitty stuff happened, but I want us all to be friends—to spend time together.”

  “And they agreed to that?” I had a feeling Annie wasn’t telling the whole story.

  She smiled hard. “Yes! That’s my great news. We can all eat together and hang out.”

  I looked at Annie’s bright eyes and wished I could be more like her. In Annie’s world, people like me can be friends with people like Courtney. I knew she was wrong. But like I said, I had no more fight left in me.

  I’m like one of those bouncy rubber balls I used to get out of the gumball machine at the supermarket. I’m hurtling out of control, bouncing off other people, with no ability to control my own direction.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, to buy myself some time. I don’t know why I bothered putting her off, though. I already know that I’ll follow Annie in her misguided attempts at fixing my social life, just like I’ll follow my mother to the doctor’s while she tries to fix what’s wrong in my head.

  I’ll bounce along between them, even though I know it’s pointless. There are some things that can’t be fixed.

  Annie

  I write “x=–1” and then flip to the back of my textbook to check the answer key.

  “Goddamn it,” I mutter.

  Scott looks up from across the table and gives me a crooked smile. “Problem?”

  “There’s something wrong with this answer key,” I say, erasing my work so viciously that the paper tears. “I’m usually gr
eat at math.”

  “You’re sexy when you’re mad,” he says, pressing his leg against mine under the table. “Your eyes get brighter.”

  “You’re an idiot,” I joke, heat rising in my cheeks. “And this is all your fault. I can’t concentrate on math with you sitting across from me.”

  He props a textbook up between us, slouching behind it so I can’t see him. “Pretend I’m not here, then.”

  I roll my eyes and start in on the problem again. I refuse to be bested by this stupid equation.

  Two lines into my solution, I can feel his eyes on me again. “Let’s get out of here,” he practically growls, and I snap my textbook shut.

  We scurry out of the public library and into the street, where Scott pulls me in for a kiss that makes my knees buckle.

  I drop my bag on the sidewalk and wind my arms around his neck as his tongue darts into my mouth. I can’t get enough of him, and it scares the shit out of me. Courtney’s words dance through my brain. Scott’s great, but he’s a bit of a player.

  I didn’t mean to get this serious, but I can’t help feeling like this.

  Scott thinks everything I do is amazing. He likes to just sit and watch me sometimes. I’ll look up to find him staring at me, and when I ask him what he’s looking at, he says stuff like “Your hair looks like it’s on fire when the sun hits it” or “I’m counting your freckles.” Stuff that makes my heart beat fast and my skin flame.

  Scott looks at me and sees me. I feel special and important and beautiful. I feel like I matter.

  He rests his forehead against mine, and I smile at the look in his eyes. I want to capture it on paper so I can see it whenever I want. So I can keep this feeling with me even when he’s not around.

  “I have an idea,” I say excitedly, and he raises his eyebrows in expectation. “Let me draw you.”

  “Ah,” he says, nodding. “You want me to be your nude model.”

  I laugh. “No! I want to draw your portrait. Will you pose for me?”

  “Sounds hot,” he says, looping an arm around my waist. “Your place or mine?”

  Down in his basement, I sit cross-legged on the couch and wonder how someone with so much personality can be such a lifeless model. Scott’s sitting across from me like a mannequin, his face completely expressionless.

  “Relax,” I tell him, earning a tight smile.

  I uncross my legs and nudge him with my foot. I want that heated look in his eyes. I want to capture his wanting.

  “Imagine I’m naked,” I whisper, praying that his mother isn’t eavesdropping.

  His eyes snap onto mine and it’s perfect. My pencil flies across the page.

  “Don’t move!” I laugh as he lunges for me. “I need to get this right.”

  He groans and sits back, looking at me as if he wants to devour me. I’ve almost got the eyes exactly right when he runs his hands up my legs and makes me forget to breathe. “Just one second more,” I manage, just as the eyes on the page match up perfectly with the eyes staring me down.

  I toss the sketchbook aside and feel myself spiral into him.

  We’ve made out down here a million times, but this is different. Things get heated so fast. I feel like I can’t possibly get close enough to him. His clothes make me angry.

  I can see from his eyes that he feels the same way. There’s this crazy moment where he pulls back and looks at me, and it’s so intense I can’t even breathe.

  When we start kissing again, he puts his hand up my shirt and unhooks my bra. He’s done that before, and I’ve always scooted away to do it back up, shaking a finger playfully at him. But this time it feels right. He pauses for a minute to see if I’ll protest. When I don’t, he lifts my shirt so slowly and carefully that I think I might explode. My breath catches in my throat and he breaks my gaze to look down at me. He lets out a low moan, and a blush creeps up all the way from my toes.

  He kisses my belly button and then trails little kisses up to my chest. I stop breathing. In my head I’m begging him to touch me and terrified that he will all at once. His lips close around my nipple and his tongue darts against it and I moan. Loudly.

  That breaks the spell in a hurry. Our eyes meet in a panic. Scott’s mother is the fun police. She’s on constant patrol when I’m over, on high alert lest I corrupt her angelic son.

  “Yes, honey?” she calls from the top of the stairs.

  We scramble in slow motion, frantically rearranging ourselves while trying not to sound frantic.

  “Yeah, Mom?” He tosses me a blanket and moves over to the chair.

  “I thought I heard you call me.” She comes down the stairs so fast that she must be taking them two at a time. Her eyes take in the scene in front of her, and she zeroes in on me sprawled on the couch. “Are you cold, Annie?”

  I pull the blanket up a little higher. I didn’t have time to fix my bra. “A little, Mrs. Hutchins. But Scott found me a blanket, so I’m good now.”

  “I can make you kids some hot chocolate,” she suggests, her eyes never leaving me.

  “That’d be great, Mom. We’re about to put in a movie.”

  Her eyes flick over to the television, where MTV is on low volume. “You haven’t started the movie yet? What have you two been doing down here all this time?” There’s a hard edge to her voice, and I look at Scott in a panic.

  He’s so smooth, though. “We were talking, Mom.”

  She smiles hard, overcompensating. “Of course! Of course! I didn’t mean anything by that. I’ll get you hot chocolate and a snack, and you can settle in for the movie.” She rushes up the stairs, probably eager to get back as soon as possible and reevaluate the situation.

  We stifle our laughter behind our hands as she clears the top step. “That was close!” I reach behind me to do up my bra, embarrassed that Scott’s watching me.

  “Annie . . .”

  “Mmmhmm?”

  He goes quiet and I start to get nervous. I meet his eyes, and he looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him. “I love you.”

  My mouth drops open, and there are no words in me. I feel tears tracking down my face. I haven’t heard those words from anyone in such a very long time. Scott’s suddenly beside me on the couch, drying my tears with his shirtsleeve. “What’s wrong?”

  “I . . . I just . . .”

  He looks down. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No! I mean . . . I love you too.” I’d hesitated to say the words, not sure if I meant them. But as they pass my lips, I feel the truth of them. “I do,” I repeat, more confident now. “I love you.”

  He puts his arms around me, and we sit back on the couch, nestled together. I close my eyes and see the pieces of my life falling together. All the loneliness. All the sadness. It doesn’t matter anymore because I have someone who loves me.

  I jump when I hear his mother come back down the stairs, but Scott just holds me tighter and ignores her startled look.

  She clears her throat loudly. “Here are your snacks.” She holds out the tray, waiting for Scott to get up and take it from her.

  “Thanks, Mom. Can you put it on the coffee table?”

  She sniffs and sets the tray down. “Are you planning on watching the movie?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, why don’t you come on over to the chair, Scott?” she suggests. “That way Annie can stretch out on the sofa.”

  “No, thanks, Mom. I’m comfortable here.”

  “Well, then. What movie are you watching?”

  “We haven’t decided yet.”

  “Why don’t I join you? I haven’t watched a movie in so long!”

  “Maybe another time, Mom. I was hoping for some time with Annie.”

  It’s almost painful, holding my smile back. I want to shout from the rooftops that I love him. I want to break into song and dance around the basement. Instead, I fix my gaze on MTV and try hard to ignore the waves of suspicion rolling off of his mother.

  “I’ll be down to check on you so
on,” she warns.

  “I’m sure you will,” Scott says with a laugh. He tightens his arm around me, and I feel my whole life beginning.

  Jessie

  I could kiss Dr. Morgan. I have a bottle of Ativan in my bag, a refill of my antidepressants, and a mother who’s been put in her place.

  To be honest, I’ve never really had much faith in Dr. Morgan’s ability to relate to a girl my age. He has messy black hair shot through with gray, a pair of half-glasses that rest on the tip of his nose, and a white jacket that’s usually buttoned wrong. After today, though, I’m quite sure he’s a genius.

  He looked at me over the top of his glasses and said, “You’ve looked better, Jess. What seems to be the trouble today?”

  My mom jumped in. “Jess has been having panic attacks, and I caught her sneaking Ativan on Saturday night.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and prepared for a lecture, but Dr. Morgan surprised me by ignoring my mom entirely. “Why don’t you tell me what brings you here today, Jess?”

  “Ummm. Well, my mom brought me in because of the other night.”

  “And what happened?”

  I took a deep breath and angled my body away from my mother. “I had a panic attack in English class the other day, and I had to take an Ativan to stop it. My mom only gives me one pill at a time, so I snuck in to get more pills in case I had another attack at school.”

  “How often have you been having anxiety attacks?”

  “I haven’t. At least, not full-blown ones. This was my first real attack since last school year.”

  “That’s excellent news. It sounds like the medication we prescribed is helping you manage your anxiety well—”

  “Dr. Morgan,” my mother interrupted, “I’m concerned about the—”

  Dr. Morgan put up a finger to silence my mom, never looking away from me. “I’ll speak to your concerns shortly, Mrs. Avery. For right now, I’d like to get more information directly from Jessica.”