Page 27 of Save Me
“Gee, and here I was thinking it’s me you would miss.” A pang of guilt and sadness hits me while thinking, ‘If only you knew what was coming.’ “I’ll try and stick around for your convenience.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” he lashes out and throws his hands up into the air in frustration. “Girls are so frigging stupid!”
My mouth drops open in shock when he takes to the stairs and ascends them just as angrily as he descended them only minutes ago. It’s just another name to add to the list of guys who I seem to be pissing off today. Mum and I both physically jump when a door slams from upstairs. I turn back to stare at her for some sort of explanation for his overreaction.
“He was beyond worried about you,” she says and smiles softly as she brushes a lock of hair away from my face. “He loves you really. You know boys can’t handle their emotions very well!”
Yeah, don’t I just!
“Beth! My baby girl!” Dad rushes toward me after miraculously appearing out of nowhere. He wraps his arms around me, something I haven’t let him do since he seriously slipped down in my estimations. He even sneaks in a kiss to the top of my head, causing my toes to clench up in anger. “I can’t believe what happened to you today. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, sweetheart.”
Wasn’t there for me?! That final statement has me pulling away from him so violently, I wonder if I’ve caused him an injury. Fortunately, my mother’s attention is completely focused upon a package she’s just retrieved from the kitchen. Dad looks at me with hurt swimming in his eyes, and although a very small percentage of me feels bad for him, I still pin him with a look that silently questions his newfound concern. He takes the hint and steps back, scratching uncomfortably at the back of his neck and moving to hide behind Mum as though she’s going to protect him from feeling any worse than he already does.
“Beth, this arrived for you while you were gone,” he mutters, gesturing to the small mobile phone box that Mum is still holding onto. She is looking very intrigued by its flawlessly wrapped appearance. Me, on the other hand, I look at it like it’s a loaded gun, knowing full well who it must have come from.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Mum laughs at my emotionless, wary response to it. “Some guy dressed like he was part of a SWAT team delivered it shortly after Bodhi called.”
Cautiously, I take it, handling it as though it might explode at any second. In fact, I’d like nothing more than to throw it back outside again. I think I take the longest time on human record to open the box, before picking up the sleek, shiny, brand-new device that looks like the latest iPhone. I breathe out long and slow, registering the heat now spreading over my head and down my spine, trying to hold back the puke that would dearly love to erupt all over it.
“Ooh, lucky you,” Mum whistles, “I heard you can’t even get those in the shops yet. Who’ve you been seeing, missy?” She winks and laughs before walking back into the kitchen.
I glance at Dad who looks away guiltily, then walks out back like the coward he is. I spy the handwritten note that is decorated in perfect, cursive writing against the thick, white, headed paper, bearing the Lawrence name:
Dearest Beth
This is to replace your previous phone, which I believe is still sitting at the bottom of the pier. Please accept it as a token of my affection. I have already programmed my details into the contacts and now have a number on which to reach you. Please text to let me know you have received it and that you are home safely.
I look forward to our dinner next Sunday.
Oliver
X
I feel ridiculously dizzy and have that urge to run again, to try and melt this memory away like I attempted to do with all the other this morning. Knowing that I would only be worrying Mum if I took off, I make do with hurtling up the stairs, taking two at a time. My bedroom door flies open to reveal all of the things that make me who I am. I take them all in before I throw the damn thing onto the floor and scream at it. I tell it to leave me the hell alone, even if it is but an object, it’s still taunting me with the fact that this is what is to become of me - controlled. I proceed to rip the note into tiny pieces before throwing them up into the air, where they float to the floor and sit there looking impotent.
“Beth?” a timid voice, one that is full of genuine concern, calls out to me before closing my door ever so carefully behind him. “Please, Beth, please don’t cry!”
“Cry? Cry?! I’m not crying, Malcolm!” I spit at him. “I’m angry beyond words! Can’t you see he’s starting to claim me, starting to own me?! My freedom is coming to an end! Now, he wants me to have his phone,” I growl as I throw my hand out to the offensive thing on the floor, snarling at it like it’s the very man who sent it to me. “Oh, and I’m to have dinner with him every Sunday!”
My father looks sheepishly toward the floor and tucks his hands deep inside of his pockets, then sighs sadly. I eye his slumped physique and realize just how much he’s aged since this all began, but instead of feeling sorry for him, I only feel disgusted by how pathetic he looks. It’s all too easy for him to look sorry for himself, trying to induce pity from me when he’s the one who fucked up and now has me paying the price for it.
“Oh, of course, you already know that don’t you! For fuck’s sake!”
I run my hands through my hair, turning away to look out the window and gaze over our back garden. Sadness picks greedily away at my anger, causing my whole body to fall as my muscles lose their battle to remain tensed up with rage.
“No more family barbecues, Sunday dinners,” I whisper, as tears roll silently over my cheeks. I flap away at them as I continue to stare out at the table and chairs. The ones we have used in the warm, Californian summer heat while sharing many a meal out there on a Sunday lunchtime.
My eyes remain fixed as if watching memories play out in real life before me. The chats with Mum and Dad about everything and nothing, all carefree, casual, and without any pretentious bullshit or formalities. Riley and I have always been able to speak freely about any little thing. Not even bad language is a big deal to my parents. Dad would wind me up about having a boyfriend, while Mum had helped me to think about what I wanted to do when I finished school. We had looked at universities back in England, colleges in the States, even the prospect of taking a year out to go traveling. All of it now a distant memory; all of it gone.
“Get out, Malcolm,” I mutter bitterly as I close my eyes to the depressing scene before me.
“Beth…I know you’re angry with me but…” He breathes quickly before his voice hitches, and I know he’s trying hard not to cry.
“GET OUT!” I shout, still refusing to face him. I only open my eyes again when I hear the door close behind me, signaling Mal’s own acceptance of the lost cause before me.
Chapter 10
Beth