Clouds That Were (Weathered Hearts) (9 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Chase

I
would think that
by the time I dropped her off and got home a little after four this morning, I would be exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about how I could just take her away from all of this. And the only thing stopping me is my dad. He already lost my mom, and there is just no way that I could just take off. I wouldn’t be able to tell him where we went because I am sure that the police would question him, assuming of course that her mother would call them, and not just be glad she was gone.

Still, that option stays planted firmly in the front of my brain.

Giving up on sleep I put my running stuff on and get my run for the day out of the way. By the time I get home, it is once again that perfect morning light for drawing, so I shower quickly and go outside, this time to the front yard, and try to find some inspiration. I find myself watching her window, and soon I am drawing the window while I wait for her to wake up. I assume she’s a normal person and will probably sleep in, so I am surprised to see her sleepy smile in the window just as the sun is coming up.

I send a quick good morning text and ask her if she would mind if I draw her sitting in the window. She hesitantly complies, and within seconds, that smile is on the paper in front of me surrounded by all of the other things I love about that face. It only takes a few minutes before she is sleeping with her head leaning back and her forehead just barely touching the glass. She has her knees pulled up to her chest and some kind of fuzzy socks on her feet. Her hair is still curly from last night, but is now in a loose ponytail on top of her head.

Although I realize I have limited time to draw before she will no doubt have to go and do some chores or something, I can’t help but just sit and stare at her for a while. She looks so peaceful, well, as peaceful as someone can look sitting up and sleeping in a window, anyway.

Back to drawing. I spend way too much time on her face, but that is after all the most important part. I am watching and drawing for about an hour before I see her eyes open. I give her a little wave, and she smiles that smile. I see her glance at something and immediately receive a text that says she has to go. I can only assume her mother is awake or will be soon. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable if she has to do outside work or something with me sitting there staring at her, so I grab all my stuff and head back in the house. A few minutes go by, and I can hear her outside mowing the lawn. She must be exhausted. I know I am.

I can hear my dad moving around upstairs, and I know he is going to want to know how everything went last night. Also, I want to know how bad his night was, too, so I make a pot of coffee, poor myself a cup and a cup for him, and sit down at the dining room table.

Before he even sits down, he has already asked me about three thousand questions, and I can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. We sit and talk about Tenley and our night for about an hour, and then I finally ask how his night went.

“You know, the more time I spend with her, the more I just feel sorry for her.” He explains. “She has a daughter that she can’t see through her own bitterness. She apparently doesn’t talk to any of her other family members either, because according to her, they are all “out to get her.” She said that a while ago, everyone tried to get her to let Tenley live with her grandparents, and I guess that was the end of most of her relationships. She was telling me last night that she has been seeing a guy for a while now, but it’s hard because she can’t trust Tenley to stay home alone. And she won’t bring him to her house because she is sure that Tenley would do something to embarrass her, so their relationship is pretty much limited to lunch dates. Tenley doesn’t even know they’re dating. I asked her if she felt that maybe we should not be going out to dinner, if maybe he would get upset, and it seemed as if she didn’t even hear me ask; she just moved on in the conversation. It was very strange.”

“So what do you think is the deal with her? Is she really just that nuts?”

“I don’t know. She seemed to me as though she was living in her own little reality. She has no idea what Tenley is really like at all. I know more about her from the last two days than I think she knows from the last sixteen years. She really just sees her as a burden, a big red mark on her perfect little life. She doesn’t see what she is doing to her at all, nor does she care. It’s just sad really.”

“I thought a lot last night about just taking Tenley and running away with her.” I muttered. “I just can’t stand the thought of her being in that house and not being able to see or hear what is happening. I am oddly comforted to know that she is outside mowing the lawn right now, even though I know she is probably freezing and exhausted. How messed up is that?”

“Before your mom died, I tried everything I could think of to help her, but it wasn’t enough. At some point I think I was just resigned to the fact that at least if she was feeling pain, she was feeling something, and that was better than nothing. But after a while, she did stop feeling even pain. She was like a doll just walking around without feelings, without thoughts; she was as lifeless as a living person could be. I still think I should have done something else, something more, but I don’t know what that would have been. I guess what I am trying to say is that even though you love her, and she says she loves you, I don’t know how far-gone she is. And I think there is a point in sadness like that, where they can’t come back anymore. Running away with her isn’t going to help, because everything she is going through is a part of her. It doesn’t matter if you take her to the other side of the country, the pain will travel with her, and I don’t know if you really know what that means,” he says sadly.

“Dammit, Dad, do you not realize that I was there, too? I watched mom go through all the same stuff you did! Not only that, but I watched you falling apart right along with her. There was nothing either of us could do for Mom, but we can help Tenley. I am not willing to just stand by and watch her crumble like Mom did. I know we both did everything we could to help Mom, but it wasn’t enough, and honestly, I don’t think I can live through watching another person I love fall apart like that. I just can’t,” I fumed.

“This is not something that you should have to deal with. You are not responsible for her. Not to mention that you have only known her for two days. Chase, there is a lot you can do for her without running away with her. She is still alive; she is still in there when you look in her eyes. If you can show her that you love her and that she can trust you, she just might be okay. You can give her the kind of happiness that she has never had before, and that might enough. I loved your mom, hell, I still love her, but she never told me anything about why she was so sad. You know what it is that is causing Tenley all of this pain. All you have to do is get her through the pain, and when you both come out on the other side, then you will know what true love really is.”

“Just might be okay isn’t enough. I need to know that she
is
going to be okay, and that will never be the case while she’s living with her mother.”

I walk away, leaving him with his own thoughts.

A part of me knows that he is right, but the urge to just take her and go is still there haunting me. I move into the living room, flip the TV on and mindlessly flip through the channels until I fall asleep and dream about us sitting in chairs on a beach somewhere.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tenley

A
gain I spent
my night dreaming about Chase. I was a little nervous to go to school and have a whole day of us being in the same building. He was in several of my classes, so I knew I’d get to see him at least a few times. I hoped that he would ask me to have lunch with him.

As I was waiting for the bus on the corner, I saw him pulling out of his driveway. Come to think of it, I had seen him driving to school several times. I wonder why he was taking the bus that day he followed me to the park? As soon as he got to the corner, he pulled over.

“Is your mom home?” He asked cautiously, his eyes darting between me and the house.

“No, she leaves for work before I even get up for school. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was going to offer you a ride to school if you want one. I just didn’t want you to get in trouble.” He smiles.

“Nope. All good for now. I would love a ride, thanks.”

“I usually stop at Starbucks on the way to school. Can I buy you something?”

“I’ve never been to Starbucks before, but I’d like to try it. Can you help me figure out what to order, though? Doesn’t everything there have like fifteen words in the description?”

“Something like that,” he laughs. “I know just the thing.”

The speaker in the drive-through comes to life with a girl who sounds entirely too happy to be awake at this hour. “Can I get a grande caramel macchiato and a grande salted caramel mocha, please?” Chase says while digging through his wallet. The overly chipper voice chirps out our total, and within just a few minutes we are back on our way to school.

I take a sip of my drink with trepidation because I have no idea if I will like it, and I’m pretty sure that I have burnt off my fingerprints just from holding the cup.

“HOLY CRAP!” I yell. Chase slams on the brakes and pulls over as fast as he can safely. “Tenley are you okay? What happened? Did you burn your mouth? Oh my God, I should have gotten water, do you need water?”

Now I’m laughing so hard that I can barely breathe, and he is looking at me with the most adorable confused look on his face.

“Care to explain why you just screamed?” He is laughing now, too.

“It’s just, I’ve never had Starbucks before as I said, and it’s just so good that the yell just slipped out!”

“Jesus woman, you are going to give me a heart attack and kill us both.”

“Sorry.” I giggle.

In a flash he leans over and kisses me. It only lasts a second, but that’s all it takes for my heart to start beating out of my chest again.

“Alright, young lady, I better get you to school before I decide to just run away with you,” he says as he pulls the car back onto the road.

With the words young lady, I am slammed back into reality once again, and the ride the rest of the way to school is pretty quiet.

We arrive at school and like a true gentlemen, once again, he walks around the car and opens my door for me. He grabs my backpack from the backseat and hands it to me once I am out of the car. I find it a little odd at first that he doesn’t just carry it since he is making such a visible effort to be chivalrous, but before I can wonder too much, he goes to the trunk and pulls out his art supplies. Between the art stuff, his backpack and his coffee, it is like watching a clown try to juggle.

I offered to help, but he declined. “I’m used to carrying all of this stuff on my own. I take it almost everywhere. We have a little while before school starts. Do you mind walking to the art room with me, just so I can drop this stuff off?”

“No, not at all.” I’m not trying to be short with him, but it’s so hard for me to allow myself to be happy with him. I know I don’t deserve him. Nor do I deserve to be happy. I still don’t understand why I’m here, but I do know that if I allow myself to be too comfortable with him, that everything is going to come crashing down. I have been hurt enough in my sixteen years to know that I can’t count on anyone. Even though I know this, I can’t help but feel a pull towards him. I feel like he truly would do anything for me, and we have only known each other a few days.

“Tenley?”

I look up at him and realize that I have stopped walking in the middle of the hallway. “Sorry, I just zoned out for a minute. Not a morning person.” I smile, and once again I can feel my face heating up.

“Hence the coffee.” He smiles.

Continuing down the hallway, we arrive at the art room, and he heads to the back of the room where there are some lockers. While he gets his belongings organized in his locker, I notice that there are paintings, drawings, sculptures, and other art projects around, so I begin looking at each one. I have never paid attention to any kind of art other than photography, but each of these pieces spoke right to my soul. A black and white sketch of a tree losing its leaves and a small silhouette of a child in the background. The child seems so dejected , even though her face isn’t visible.

My eyes move to the right, and I am struck silent and frozen when I notice a giant watercolor painting of a girl sitting up against a wall with her nose in a book. Chase must have finished putting his schoolbooks and art equipment in his locker at the exact moment I notice the painting, because he too, is silent and frozen. After a moment, I am able to slowly put one foot in front of the other and step closer to the painting to see if it is who I think it is, and the closer I get, the more I see it.

It is me, only beautiful. I am sitting with my knees up, my favorite book on my lap, my glasses on, and my hair down but all swept over my right shoulder, and it doesn’t look like the mousy brown I know it. It looks, different. I have jean shorts on with a gray shirt, my favorite hoodie and my green scarf. It is a position I sit in several times a day, whenever I am not in class, so it is definitely me. I take another step closer and that is when I notice her eyes, well, my eyes. They are so filled with sadness. Based on the way that he has painted them, every detail, every reflection, it is obvious that this girl is hopelessly lost. There are no tears, but he doesn’t need to have them there to show that she is that sad. It is, without a doubt, the most beautifully sad painting I have ever seen. I have always felt like no one sees me, the invisible girl, but to him I am not invisible at all. I can feel him slowly walking up behind me and realize that I have tears in my eyes dangerously close to falling.

I turn to look at him. This boy that I barely know. This boy that, I can tell by looking at this painting, knows more about me than I do. This boy, that even though all logic says it doesn’t make sense, I trust wholeheartedly. As all of these feelings hit me, I throw myself into his arms and completely break down. Even though I have never let anyone see me cry before, I know he won’t judge. And he doesn’t. He stands there and holds me in his arms for what seems like hours, not rushing me, not making me feel stupid, just holding me.

It is the first time in my life that I feel safe.

When the bell rings to go to homeroom, I have calmed down enough that I am able to pull the rest of myself together to walk to class. I back up and look up at Chase, and he very gently leans over and kisses a tear from each side of my face. He kisses my lips then so tenderly as if to assure me that everything is going to be okay. He grabs my hand and walks me to class.