Authors: Danielle Sibarium
I didn’t answer right away. I tried to put myself in his place, see it from his point of view. I wanted to understand, and be compassionate.
“I’m the reason she’s dead.” He tried to convince me.
“No. You’re not. The guy who blew the light is.”
“C’mon Stephanie, you know what I mean.”
I could see frustration on his face. “If none of this happened would you have promised not to see me?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then what are you doing? You need me now. You need all your friends. I know you feel guilty, but shutting me out won’t bring her back.”
“This is not a fairytale!” His voice held even more anger than before. “There’s no happy ending for us.”
I shook my head in disbelief still trying to accept what was happening. “You really think I’m the reason she’s dead?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. It was in his eyes.
He paced around the room, “Have you read any of the blogs about the accident?”
“Nothing good can come from those.”
“You think I’m upset because people are saying bad things and blaming me? Because her friends want to lynch me? No. Not at all. People are going on about dearly departed Madison, and her poor devoted boyfriend. How lost I am without her, how perfect and in love we were. How I don’t deserve the pain and suffering of losing her so tragically.”
I looked down feeling despondent. I was in so far over my head I couldn’t see daylight, and I had no idea how to keep from drowning.
“There’s no mention on any of the blogs that only days before the accident, her sleazebag boyfriend was on a date, and not just any date, but a prom date with another girl. No one knows, two minutes before the accident . . .” his voice caught and he closed his eyes a moment, no doubt, I was certain, reliving the accident. “She died with tears streaming down her face, because I broke her heart,” his voice was low and raspy, barely more than a whisper.
“You’re beating yourself up over something you didn’t do.”
“Look, Stephanie, I can’t be who you want me to be. I can’t be strong and supportive. I can’t tell you everything is going to be okay. I just can’t.”
“I don’t want you to! I want you to give me the opportunity to be your rock. To make you believe everything is going to be alright.”
He bit his lip, “I don’t want to fight with you.” He turned from me.
I approached him slowly and placed my hand on his shoulder, “I’m stronger than you think, Jordan.”
“Yeah, I saw how strong you were that night at the cemetery.”
My blood turned to ice. I couldn’t believe he could be so cruel. How could he throw that at me in such a callous manner?
My face must have given me away. When his eyes met mine, they softened and looked sad rather than angry. He stepped closer to me and placed his hand on my waist, “I’m so sorry.”
“Get out!”
“Stephanie . . . ” he pulled me against him, but I pushed away.
“Just get the hell out of my house and out of my life!”
Twenty-Eight
The moment the front door closed, I picked up a book from the coffee table and threw it across the room. I grabbed a pillow, brought it to my face and screamed into it. Clutching it close I fell onto the couch, pulled my knees into my chest and cried.
I gave way to all the devastating pain and anger overwhelming me. I’d never felt pain like this. It pierced my heart and left a large gash, raw and jagged. I wondered how I could be so stupid and naïve. How could I have spent years loving an illusion?
A knot formed in my stomach, which at the moment felt like a bottomless pit. For the first time I ever could remember, I hated Jordan. Absolutely despised him. He lied and betrayed me and I didn’t care if I’d ever see him again.
Having my eyes opened was almost unbearable. It left me feeling like I couldn’t breathe. I had no idea how to get through the next moment, let alone the coming days.
The phone rang. I didn’t answer. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to anyone. I let it go to voicemail and then played back the message.
“Hi Stephanie, this is Lisa,” a young vibrant voice called out. “Lydia and I are going out tonight. We wanted to know if you and Maria were interested in a girls’ night. I know we spoke about it at graduation. Give me a call.”
While the L Twins were never my favorite people, I didn’t have anything against them. We remained friendly after Chris and I broke up and even hung out at school sometimes. Even Maria agreed they could be sort of fun. I wondered if they called her too. And if so, did she plan to go. One thing I knew for certain, if Maria was going, I was not.
I dialed the house number, figuring if I called on her cell she might not answer. I planned to ask if she was going and slam the phone down. I think I just wanted an excuse to hang up and take out a small increment of my pain on her.
Her father home from work answered. “I’m sorry Stephanie, she has company right now,” he offered in a kind voice.
“Rob’s back?” I asked.
“Um no. I’ll have her call you as soon as she’s free. Okay?” He didn’t even wait for me to respond before hanging up the phone.
That wasn’t like Mr. Deluci. He always took the time to ask if something’s wrong or what I needed, or even if I’d like to leave a message. This lack of interest meant Maria gave him strict instructions. I knew what that meant. Her company was Jordan.
I wondered how much worse my life could get.
The thought of leaving for college, which up until this point gave me angst, was refreshing and inviting. I could leave my old life behind and start anew. Why wait? I wanted to start now. Tonight. I returned Lisa’s call happy to accept her invitation.
At nine o’clock my doorbell rang. Since Mom didn’t know these girls, she wasn’t crazy about the idea of us leaving so late. She didn’t understand why we couldn’t just hang out at our house. The twins came in, met mom, and checked their makeup before we left.
I looked them over in their short skirts and tight, low cut shirts and felt out of place. They looked so glitzy; Lisa with blonde streaks through her hair and heavy eye makeup, and Lydia with bright red lipstick giving her lips a fuller illusion. There I was, in my jean shorts and black, lace trimmed tank top. I definitely didn’t belong.
Lydia drove with the windows down, music cranking. We all sang at the top of our lungs, until she parked the car. Our destination: the Bay Ridge bar scene.
“Are you sure we can get in?” I asked more than a little nervous.
“We’ve been going there all year,” Lisa answered. “I mean not every night, but often enough. Besides, they never proof.”
“Okay.”
“Once we’re in, act like you belong,” Lydia chimed in, “If you see someone looking at you suspiciously keep moving.”
“Got it.”
I couldn’t help but have a queasy stomach. I didn’t go clubbing or looking to get drunk. Every time I drank it turned out bad. Really bad. I didn’t know Lydia and Lisa well enough to trust they had my back if I needed them. But the time for backing out was long gone.
Uncertain of what I expected when we walked in, I knew this wasn’t it. We walked right through the door of the dimly lit bar and past a throng of people between the service area and the entrance. The music pounded so loud, I felt it in my throat. I wondered how anyone in here communicated. I watched as Lisa made her way past people and into the larger, less crowded, back area.
Lydia made her way through more slowly than her sister and stopped midway. She approached a tall good looking blond-haired guy, reached up on her tippy toes and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He whispered, or most likely yelled something in her ear, and she turned to me, took my hand and pulled me close. Lydia introduced me to her friend John, who in turn introduced me to his not nearly as good looking, brown-haired friend, Mike.
Mike barely acknowledged me with a nod of his head before running off to speak to some heavily-made-up-skin-tight-short shorts wearing blonde. I felt relieved. At least I didn’t have to feel obligated to spend time with him. By the time I turned back to Lydia, she and John were pressed up against each other, lips and hands roaming all about.
Wishing I hadn’t come at all, I moved away from Lydia and slowly made my way to the bar. I leaned forward trying to get the bartender’s attention, when my heart stopped.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you tossed out for underage drinking.”
I spun around, eager to give my defense. I was innocent. I hadn’t done anything. Not yet. Not only had I not drank any alcoholic beverages, I hadn’t even ordered one.
“Well, Stephanie?”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t lie or talk my way out of this one. I stared wide eyed, open mouthed. “Mr. Dalton? What are you doing here?” I asked mortified.
He stood with his arms crossed and leaned in close, and smiled, “Relaxing. How about you?”
Of all the people I could possibly run into, why did it have to be a former teacher? Mr. Dalton taught Phys Ed at my high school for the last two years. He also happened to be one of the youngest and hottest teachers in the school.
“Mr. Dalton I . . . I . . . ” I felt like throwing up.
His blue eyes twinkled as he leaned in and spoke close to my ear, “Call me Dale. Mr. Dalton is a dead giveaway.”
“You won’t tell?” What a lame question.
“I didn’t say that. How about I order a coke and you can tell me why you’re here.”
“Just hanging out with my friends,” I smiled sheepishly.
“Your ‘friends’ seem to be otherwise occupied, and you look upset. That is a very dangerous combination.”
How right he was. I wished I could tell him how all I wanted to do was cry, and what a big mistake I made coming with two girls I hardly knew. But that would be even lamer than asking if he planned on telling on me. Why is there never a hole big enough for me to crawl into?
“I’m fine,” I said, none too convincingly.
He put his hand on my shoulder, “If you have a problem, you can talk to me. I’m a good listener, and I’ll try to help. Why don’t we go to the pizzeria next door where it’s nice and quiet?”
I shook my head, “I’d bore you. I really have nothing to say.”
For a brief moment I felt very flattered. All the girls in school vied for Mr. Dalton’s attention. His classes were the best. They were the most fun and exciting, and here I had his full consideration, which I could have traded for gold to any girl in school, and still I felt like such a loser.
I looked around to see if Lisa and Lydia had an inkling I was in trouble, but they were nowhere to be seen. I continued to search for them until I saw him sitting at the bar pounding down a bottle of beer. I felt my eyes cloud over.
Mr. Dalton had been watching me closely. He looked between Jordan and me, “Ah, now I understand,” he said as if he’d just been let in on a big secret. “Boyfriend trouble.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I snapped.
“Are you sure? Cause he’s been looking at me with daggers in his eyes since I approached you.”
“Believe me, I’m sure.” I hesitated a minute, “I’m ready to leave, so I’ll just go outside and call a cab,” I explained.
“Fine, I’ll wait with you, make sure no one bothers you,” he winked and with his arm around my shoulder, escorted me outside into the quiet of a busy street.
“You do know she’s underage, don’t you?”
Just when I thought I couldn’t feel lower or more defeated, here came Jordan, beer in hand, to ensure and magnify my humiliation.
“Ignore him,” I whispered.
Jordan grabbed my arm. “You’re not going anywhere with him.”
“Why don’t you mind your damn business!” I said as I yanked my arm free.
Again Jordan reached for me. This time Mr. Dalton interceded. He got between us, “I don’t think she wants you to do that,” he warned.
Ignoring Mr. Dalton completely Jordan tried to step around him to get to me, “Stephanie, we need to talk.”
“Buddy, why don’t you go back inside and leave her alone?” Now I noticed Mr. Dalton standing straighter, his chest out.
A few people spilled out from the bar and began to gather around, getting a better view of the entertainment.
“C’mon, just get out of my way,” Jordan tried to push past Mr. Dalton with his good arm.