Not wanting to think about this here, I start to shimmy myself down the bed, silently cursing my stupid broken leg. Luckily, he seems to have fallen into a deep slumber, and doesn’t move an inch as I unsteadily slide off the mattress and cautiously rise to my feet. I keep my eyes on him the entire time that I maneuver myself around his room. All I want right now is a giant glass of water, and to put some space between us. I fully intend to lock myself in my room until he leaves… if he leaves. For the first time in a week, I actually hope that he does. I desperately need to sort out my feelings…
In the bathroom, I wash my face, scrubbing at the skin when I see that my makeup is smeared down one side. I’d take a hot shower if I could, but I don’t have the energy to wrap up my leg, right now. So I stick my head under the faucet and swallow as much water as I can, before I breathlessly dry my face and stumble to my bedroom. After carefully locking the door, I hobble over to my bed and collapse onto it.
I stare up at the ceiling, an odd feeling of hopelessness washing over me, and I silently cry as I focus on the patterns in the wooden grains of the boards above. Soon, great shuddering gasps wrack my body like I can’t get enough air. I shove a fist between my teeth and bite down, desperately trying to hold back the urge to let go and bawl my eyes out, to keep myself from waking Shay.
Laying there in a quaking mess, I think back on every moment I can remember with him… Was this something he had always wanted, but repressed, because it had been taboo and not to mention, illegal? Had he been expecting this all along? I remember how his fingers felt against me, and how I had stopped fighting it as the sensations he stirred up started to overrule every other thought in my head. I remember how good it felt. And now, I realize what was actually going on.
I remember what it felt like each time after Shay did anything to me. I wanted him happy, but there was a small bubble of shame in my stomach that I ignored, because I’ve been so fucked up lately, I didn’t want to pay attention to anything that made me feel bad.
When I compare last night, and all those other little moments with Shay, to how I felt with Keenan… there’s no comparison. With Keenan, I know he is selfless with me. I know he wants me to succeed and get out of this shithole. The feelings I get when I’m around him are everything to me. While Shay, he’s more like a crutch.
The more I relive last night, the harder I find it to breathe. My hands start to shake and they even feel a little numb. I gasp for air, finding that I can’t get enough…
My body responds like it’s on autopilot, like it knows exactly what I need to regain control. While my mind is in turmoil, my arm swings down, reaching under the edge of the bed until it finds that familiar knot in the floorboard. I twist my body on its side as I slide the panel back, and reach in for the burner cell. My fingers wrap around it like it’s a lifeline and I quickly power it on as I fall back against my pillow, trying desperately to calm my breathing. As soon as the cell comes to life, a message comes through, and I immediately open it.
Captain Stud Muffin: Hey there, Sunshine, happy 17th birthday! From what I heard, it was quite the rager. At least, that’s what it sounded like from outside.
I still as I read his words. He had come by the Beasts club? Oh my God! Keenan, you idiot! I know he hadn’t come inside, obviously. But he can be so stupid sometimes. Why would he risk himself like that? I keep reading.
When you’ve had some aspirin, food, and water, go check out the old spot. I wish I could have given it to you in person but… I’m a lot of things… crazy? Yeah, a little bit. Good looking? Not even a question. Charming and super suave? Obviously. But suicidal? Not on my list. Happy birthday, love. I’ll see you soon.
The anxiety that had been eating away at me temporarily subsides as I read his words over and over. Every time I read, Happy birthday, love, and I’ll see you soon, my stomach flutters and my heart hammers excitedly in my chest. So I am going to see him again! And I can’t believe he got me a gift. I desperately want to go see it now, but Shay is home, and James… well, I have no idea where he is. He might be here, and I can easily find out in a minute by simply checking the garage.
In the end, the anticipation is eating away at me, and I decide to go check. I need this right now. I feel so lost and overwhelmed that I am desperate for anything that can help center my emotions. My crutches are still in Shay’s room, so I don’t even bother getting them. Instead, I quietly slide my leg along the floor as I use the wall to steady myself. When I get to the kitchen, I find what I’m looking for by the front door, a cane that James bought for me weeks ago, for when I would be out of my cast. I grab a hold of the flat handle and use it to semi support myself as I quietly disarm the alarm, and step out onto the front porch.
It’s still early in the morning, and the sun is slowly rising over the trees in the distance. Everything is washed in beautiful pale, pink light, and dew drops decorate the grass like shining little crystal beads. To my relief, James’ motorcycle isn’t here, which makes it a little safer for me to be doing this. Any time Shay has partied hard, he’s slept in till the afternoon, so I feel pretty confident to quickly check the back. I move as swiftly as I can, grunting a little when my stupid cast catches on a pit in the ground, or grinds against a stone. But I manage to get around to the boulder in the back and breathlessly take a seat on it and wipe my brow.
My hands tremble a little from nerves and excitement as I move aside the smaller stones that are piled up on the side of the house, and find a small, white package. It’s not wrapped, nor is there a card, but obviously this was what Keenan has left for me to find.
Unable to resist waiting for when I’m back inside, locked in my room, I rest comfortably on the rock with my back against the logs of the house, and open the lid. Inside, is a solitaire pink pearl necklace on a fine gold chain. I stare at it, finding it hard to believe that this is the gift he bought for me. I tell myself that it must be fake, but the longer I study it, the more I doubt it. It’s utterly perfect and beautiful, and in the pale morning light, it still manages to shine. Tentatively, I touch it, my heart twisting and constricting. Keenan bought this for me…
My mind flashes to our day on the beach and to that time I had tried to help him Christmas shop. I remember when I’d encouraged him to buy his girlfriend a necklace just like this. He seemed reluctant to spend so much on her, whoever she was. And now here I am, and he bought it for me. I don’t even realize I’m crying until one of my tears falls onto the soft, silk cushion in the box that cradles the pearl. I quickly shut the lid and tilt my head back, closing my eyes as I try to get a grip.
This gift means so much to me, and not because of its value. The meaning is in the memory, in my mind, signifying the start of our relationship. It was the day Keenan reached out and provided me a lifeline, a connection outside of my family, someone to turn to when I needed support or safety. He has been there the whole time, listening to everything I’ve ever told him, always promising to be there, and coming through for me.
I let out a shuddering sob, unable to hold it in any longer, and cover my mouth with one hand as I hold the package tightly to my chest with the other.
Keenan.
Keenan…