I loved my father, despite all the things he had put Angelica and I through. I knew, I just knew he wanted to be more for us and he wanted to be the father we wanted him to be but he just couldn't. Every time he saw us, he was reminded that he was alone in the world without his girl, the love of his life.
My heart softened then, at his figure on the couch huddled under a blue blanket, the hue of the TV illuminating his bony facial structure, eyes shut against the world and all that had brought him pain.
His body looked unusually small under the blanket, as though there weren't a person under it and it was just a blanket casually laying against a couch.
He had lost weight, again.
My father went in phases of losing and gaining his weight, an after effect of never truly coping with my mother's death. For a long time after my mother had died, my father sent Angelica and I to our grandmother's and though I was just barely a year old, I understood why when I was older.
He had been dying.
He wasn't actually dying, but I knew my father spent weeks in bed, barely moving, crying, not crying, vomiting. I'm not sure what roused him one day to retrieve the two of us from our grandmother and make vain attempts to raise us, but he did.
And he often fell into this pit over and over.
But in this moment, he looked calm, free from all the stress and anxiety and unhappiness that he had found so often in his life. His face was relaxed, lines running on his forehead and skin sagging off of his cheeks. If he were healthy, I supposed my father would be a very attractive older man, but he just wasn't.
Turning from his peacefully sleeping figure, I pulled my suitcase from the entryway toward the stairs, halting when I heard the softness of his voice, "Alice?"
I pivoted on my foot, eyes landing on his now risen body, a white t shirt wrinkled and pulled back, exposing his hollowed ribcage. I swallowed.
"Did you eat today?"
He shrugged. "I had a PB&J after my pills this morning."
"Dad," I frowned. "That's not good enough. Come into the kitchen I'll make you something."
I retracted the handle from my suitcase, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear so I could watch his hunched figure rise from the couch and follow me into the kitchen, swaddled like a baby in the warmth of his blanket.
He sat at the island, avoiding my gaze, pointedly staring at a pattern in the tiled countertops. I grabbed a Tupperware box of pasta from the fridge and pulled out a pan, with the intents to quickly reheat it and plate it before heading to bed, because damnâ
A bitch was fucking tired.
"How was San Francisco?"
He filled the silence with an even awkwarder question, for if he knew my motive for wanting to go to the city, he would've never asked me.
"It was nice," I said. "Foggy and cold and busy. I really enjoyed myself there."
I felt heat creeping from my face, pounding my cheeks slightly. San Francisco although vast in it's beauty had scarred me with the reminder of anything I had felt for Eros could not live, it must be stifled because we were friends, and that's what we were always supposed to be.
Which is why I supposed, I spent more time talking to Henry. To avoid the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy I found myself more and more keen on.
"Did you guys visit Twin Peaks? That used to be your mother and I's favorite place to visit before we left."
At his words, my face fell, grip tightening on the wooden spoon. I felt ashamed that the place my parents enjoyed the most, was the place I ended up hating the most.
"Yeah," my voice with thick with tension. "Eros and I visited it on our last night. Saw the entire city." The pasta continued to sizzle in the pan, filling the air with it's nutty scent, the room warming with the fire under the pan.
I felt like I was scalding and all I wanted was to escape this room.
My father laughed. "That's where I asked your mother to marry me."
I froze, hand on the pan handle, other tossing the pasta, my entire being freezing in this moment from this crucial piece of information.
You had to be fucking kidding me.
His voice, despite the quiet volume, screamed in the room in shrilly in my ears. "And the first place I visited after her death."
I felt cheated.
I felt as though my father thought it was convenient to lay all this information on me right now, after I was already emotionally drained, after my heart was torn apart briefly by another man I had adored.
"You can't do this," I said harshly, my voice shaking much more that I thought it would. I felt tears beginning to well in my eyes.
"Do what Alice?" He asked, in an equally harsh voice, dark brown eyes glinting maliciously.
"You can't just tell me all this stuff about Mom and you as if I hadn't wanted to know my entire fucking life Dad! You can't ignore Angelica and I for fifteen fucking years and then suddenly pretend like you care! You don't get that right anymore!" I screamed, voice shrill and high and bouncing off the walls, surely waking Angelica.
"Now you listen to me missy," he growled, pointing a threatening finger in my direction, taking a menacing step forward toward me.
I suddenly regretted my words, genuine fear seizing me and rooting me to my spot in the kitchen.
"I am your father, and you live under my god damn roof, so don't you dare talk to me like that," he continued taking steps toward me, until he towered over me, his finger brushing my nose.
My body cowered despite my need to be brave in front of him. "If you didn't treat Angelica and I like nuisances, maybe I wouldn't need to talk to you like this."
Slap.
The sound resounded in the empty kitchen, the sizzling of the pan fading into the background as I felt my cheek pulsate from the hand that just swiped across me. I stared down at the floor under me, shock swirling in my body, the beige tiles on the floor moving in and out of focus.
He just fucking hit me.
My father just fucking slapped me. In the seventeen years I spent with my father, he had never laid a hand on Angelica or I, even in his worst days he wouldn't have ever done this, and as I gawked at the floor, I knew something was wrong.
I looked up at him, saw the rage that still remained in his eyes, and ran.
â¦
Bad habits die hard I supposed.
At least that's what I told myself when I succumbed to something I hadn't done since I met Ryder and Eros.
I went to the beach.
That's what I told myself when instead of calling Eros and going to our place, I went to mine.
The place he nor Ryder knew about.
There was just something about the violent waves and the sound of it reaching the soft, dark sand. It reminded me that despite everything happening in my life, all the craziness and inconsistencies, there was something, something greater than I that I could always depend on, the ocean, the beach, the sand underneath my foot.
But when I reached there, I came to the unfortunate discovery that I was not the only person who had found solace in the ocean.
It was dark and cloudy, the time nearing four in the morning, and still I could make out a vague outline of someone's back and their shoes resting in the sand beside them.
I frowned, naturally upset that someone else was here, when I so desperately needed to be here, by myself, in my own spot and calm myself down. A strong gust of wind pushed the salty air into my lungs and I shivered, regretting only coming in the clothes I had, yoga pants and one of Ryder's hoodies.
Sighing, I turned from the beach, deciding the cliff couldn't be that bad. My feet dragged in the cold sand, worn sneakers hanging loosely from my fingers, the pounding sound of waves calming me albeit.
Another gust of wind pushed me, but this time, I halted and turned.
I knew that cologne.
I squinted at the figure in the sand, the mess of hair and broad shoulders and silently gasped.
"Ryder?"
His head turned back, and even in the black of the night I could make out his piercing green gaze. He seemed surprised, and slightly guilty as well, as though I was his parent and caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing.
"What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same," he tried to joke, and yet, there was a falter in his voice. He sniffled.
I found myself walking without thinking about it, dropping my shoes next to his and plopping down in the soft sand next to him. I dug my toes into the sand, leaning back so I could clearly see Ryder in the night.
He was crying.
Ryder Thompson, the boy who was always happy and strived to make everyone else around him happy was crying.
"What's wrong baby?"
Ryder laughed coldly. "What are you doing here Alice?"
My lips tugged down, and I cocked my head at him. "This is where I go when I'm upset Ryder. No one knows I come here."
He looked down and played with the hem of his jeans. "Me too," he whispered.
I grabbed his hand and adamantly repeated my question. "What's wrong Ryder?"
"IâI just felt like crying. I just wanted to be alone."
"Yeah," I sighed. "Me too."
Silence then settled upon us, a warmth of our connected hands hindering the coldness of the wind and the sand that tried to seep into me. We watched the ocean side by side for a few moments, reveling in the push and pull of the ocean, the peace it brought to both of us.
"Sometimes I just think I'm not going to amount to anything."
The silence was broken, and so was our peace. His voice was broken, and I became acutely aware that he was crying again.
Seeing him cry pained me, but the words to comfort him were no where to be found.
"Why?" I asked.
And then, he exploded in a fit of sobs and mumbled words. "My parents called me when I got home. They're in Hawaii perusing a new venture and asked me if I wanted to fly over because I will eventually take over for them. Andâ and well I just didn't have the heart to say that I didn't want to go because I didn't want to take over because I have no fucking clue what I want to do and I'm not good at anything!"
My arms automatically wrapped around his body as it shook with heavy tears. "Sh," I said, stroking his hair. I climbed into his lap, pulling his head down onto my shoulders, his arms tightening around me.
I shut my eyes against the world as I struggled to find words that would bring comfort to my hurting best friend. "It's okay to not know what you want to do Ryder. We're only seventeen. Stop putting pressure on yourself like this, it isn't healthy and I don't want you to think that's normal. Besides, your parents will be okay if you tell them you don't want to take over. This is your life Ryder, you are an individual and you have the power to decide what you want to do with your life."
He sniffled and loosened his grip on me. "You say that like it's so easy. But my parents expect this of me. It isn't a choice Alice. I have to take over or I have to have a damn good alternative."
I buried my fingers in his soft hair, pulling him closer to me. "We'll just have to figure it out then huh? You're not alone in this Ryder, Eros and I will help you with this. That's the beauty to having best friends, you never have to do anything aloâ"
"No Alice." He snapped and this time, he pushed me off of him. "This is something I have to do by myself. I just have to."
I was cold without him, and watched as his figure stood and he pulled off his thick jacket and tossed it on me, the residual heat barely making a difference on my skin. "You're freezing. Go home Alice, I'll see you at school tomorrow." His eyes were cold and unnerving, nothing like my best friend that I knew so well.
He grabbed his shoes and stomped off angrily his figure becoming smaller and smaller and I got colder and colder. I felt myself slump onto the sand, pulling his coat over me like a blanket.
This night had been awful and all I wanted to do was cry. All I wanted was the be in Eros' arms, but I wasn't going to have that.
So I settled for crying on the beach, feeling sorry for myself until the sun rose.
â¦
My eyes burned.
I returned from the beach when the sun broke from the horizon and I realized I had school.
But I didn't go home. I couldn't. I couldn't even force myself to face the man that laid a hand on me, but I also couldn't find any real motivation to attend school.
I just felt so incredibly lost.
That's how I found myself sitting in a empty coffee shop just feet away from the beach clutching a scalding mug of hot chocolate in my numb fingers.
This coffee shop, was the shop Eros had taken me to after he exploded on the cliff on his parents death day. Where he told me my father abused Angelica and I, and I didn't believe him.
Ryder's jacket fell heavily down around my knees, swaddling me in his scent making me more miserable, sad that we had fought and he left me on the beach, still distraught with his own thoughts.
There was no one else in the shop, just a cashier worriedly looking at me every few seconds. My table was sticky with syrup and other condiments, worn with the years that the establishment had been standing. I watched the steam rise from the mug, hands burning from the heat of the mug but I couldn't find any reason to remove my hands from it.
I didn't know when I'd leave this place, I didn't know if I ever wanted to go home, I didn't know where I'd go if I left.
So I remained stagnant in not making any decisions, mind blank as my stare.
The time neared 10, the end of second period, the English class I shared with both Eros and Ryder. For some time, my phone rang incessantly in my purse, vibrating the booth I was sitting in.
There was no reason for me to answer it, so I let it ring, filling the air with the sounds of the people who wanted to know where I was.
"Are you okay miss?" The cashier had come over to my table with a plate of pancakes and another hot chocolate.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice, feeling my throat begin to burn with the start of my tears.
She frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was calming and low, lulling me into a mediocre daze.
I shook my head again, this time, my vision blurring with tears.
"Oh, okay. Well, if you do want to talk I'll be in the kitchen. Don't bother paying, it's on the house." She placed the food on the table. "I usually feel a lot better after I eat."
I managed a small nod and smile at her before she retreated into the kitchen, giving me one last worried glance. I swallowed my sob, tears falling silently down my cheeks as I tried to contain myself.
I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to go to school. I wanted to see Eros, I wanted to see Ryder, I wanted them to make me feel better.
My head was ducked, tears sliding down my cheeks under my chin, eyes shut tightly as I wished and prayed that I'd figure out what to do, how to tell my best friends my father hit me and that I didn't know how I could return to that house again. How to tell Ryder that things would be okay.
How to tell Eros I couldn't get him off my mind.
The door opened and shut again, the bystander walking in and immediately sitting across from me. I opened my eyes.
Ryder.
He cut his hair. It was short now, his curls much less defined and yet, it gave him a much younger look, like he actually belonged in high school and we were just kids. Kids with no real problems but not having enough pocket money.
Ryder's eyes widened as my tear-stained cheeks, messy hair and jacket that still hung on my frame. He placed his keys on the table, eyeing me warily. Hesitantly, he reached over, his thumbs wiping the tears from my cheeks.
And then he paused when I winced from his touch, when his fingers ran over the skin my father had hit. He furrowed his brow. "Alice? Why'd you wince?"
When I failed to give him a proper response, he lifted my chin into the bright daylight, my hair falling back so he could see the splotchiness and developing bruise on my cheek.
"What!" He spluttered, fingers weaving into my hair, pulling my head closer to his, eyes wide with worry and concern. "What is this Alice?"
I whimpered, tears falling more rapidly down my cheeks.
"When did this happen Alice!" He demanded, slightly angry and I couldn't determine if he was angry on my behalf or if he was angry at me. Either way, I retracted from his presence, fearful that he too, would hit me.
I shrugged in response, not willing to open my mouth and utter the words I was terrified of saying out loud.
His eyes hardened. "I won't ask again Alice."
Despite the sunniness in the shop, the sunlight filtering through every single window, the rush of sea wind that came from a propped open window, the happiness this place usually would've given me provided anything but.
"I think you know when Ryder." My voice was hoarse, thick with sleepiness and angst. Everything about me screamed tension and reluctance, and even speaking those words caused my heart to ache with the reality that my father dared to lay a hand on me.
I watched as Ryder stood, eyes flashing with anger. His hands were clenched in tight fists as he looked down at me with an insatiable fury.
"I'm going to kill him."
He began to move, forward out of the shop and I stumbled to follow him, hand clinging to his, desperate as I now openly sobbed. "Ryder please don't! Don't hurt him, don't tell Angelica, don't tell the authorities! They're going to take us away and then they're going to separate us and I'll probably get moved out of Monte Verde and I don't think I can do this life thing without you and Erosâ Ryder!" I babbled on and on, hiccups filtering in my speech, fists clenched around his t-shirt. "I can't lose you guys!"
Hands closed around my cheeks, head bending forward to rest against mine. Our breaths resumed an even pattern, my sobs slowing. Vaguely, I felt the breeze, the breeze the two of us had felt merely seven hours ago. Ryder closed his eyes.
"You will never, ever lose me. Our friendship is forever, I thought you'd know this by now." His voice was gentle like his hands, cradling me as though I might break.
And I was breaking.
"Can I stay with you for a few days?" I asked hesitantly. "I don't want to see my father right now."
"Yeah." He whispered. "Let's go home Alice."
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hola amigos! i miss u guys </3 and i feel its important to make it clear that my dm's are open for any new friendships, if you need someone to listen, or if you need someone to tell ur lame jokes to im ya gyal!
t-minus 16 chapters till the end <3