Watch over Me
Page 12
He takes them from my hand and snaps them back into place.
"Another good thing about Legos. If it falls apart, it doesn't mean it's destroyed. It just means you have to pick up the pieces and start again."
He's looking at me instead of the Lego house when he says those words and now I understand the point of all of this. He's trying to tell me that I'm not broken. That no matter what my problems are, they don't have to break me.
"You can still pick up the pieces, Sugar. They fell apart for a little while, but it doesn't mean anything is damaged. Everything can be fixed. And you don't have to fix it alone. There's always someone who will help you rebuild."
I don't bother to try and stop the tears that pool in my eyes this time. I've kept myself closed off for so long that I'm actually surprised at how easy it is to cry. I feel the first tear slide down my cheek, and I don't bother to wipe it away. Zander scoots closer to me and moves my head down to his shoulder. He wraps both of his arms around me and pulls us back against the trunk of the tree and just holds me while I softly cry into his neck. It's frightening to open myself up so completely with someone. It's like closing your eyes and jumping off of a cliff, not knowing whether or not there will be a safety net at the bottom to catch you.
Right now, wrapped in Zander's arms as the sun slowly sets behind his parents' house, with a multicolored Lego house next to us that was broken and put back together again, I wonder if I've just found my safety net.
Chapter Eleven
"I think you're doing remarkably well considering everything," Dr. Thompson tells me, raising one eyebrow at me when she catches me picking at my nails. "You've taken a step back from your responsibilities and you're finally learning to live again."
I look away from her and stare at a black rosary that sits on the table next to her chair. I've never seen it before and wonder why it's there now. I hadn't realized she was Catholic, but I guess that isn't really a surprise since we're not here to talk about her. I tear my gaze away from the pile of beads to look back at her.
"I know you can get back to the girl you used to be. You just have to want it bad enough. People change as they get older, but parts of who they used to be are still in there and they carry that with them. Your sense of humor, your appreciation of life…those are all things that are still inside of you. They've just been dormant for so long you don't know how to find them. You can't let other people dictate what type of person you are. It's up to you to be who you want to be. Who do you want to be, Addison?"
I sit there for several long minutes and contemplate her words. I want to be me again. I want to look forward to the future and enjoy the simple things in life. I want to have friends again, and I want to be able to confide in someone without worrying about what they will think of me. I want to remember what it's like to not have a care in the world or anxiety about what the next day will bring. I want so many things. I'm just not sure if I'm strong enough to get them.
"No, Luke, we are not going for ice cream. You haven't even eaten lunch yet," Zander tells his little brother as we get out of the car at the park.
Luke grumbles his complaint as we wander over to the swing set and each of us grabs a swing.
To my surprise, I still haven't scared Zander away. We've spent every day together since his mother's birthday last weekend. He even helped me at the bakery one night when my dad had a meeting to go to. He dropped a tray of cupcakes and burned his arm on the oven, but he still swore he had the best time ever. I'm hoping it was because of how many times we snuck back into the kitchen to kiss. While Zander and Luke argue over the benefits of ice cream before lunch, I gently swing myself back and forth and think about how he wrapped his arms around me that night and lifted me up to sit on the island in the kitchen. I remember what it felt like to wrap my legs around his waist while he used his fingertips to touch every inch of my face as if he was memorizing it. When I close my eyes, I can still feel his hands inch under my shirt and the warmth of his palms as he moved them up over my ribcage to my breasts. Butterflies flutter through my stomach when I think about how badly I want his hands on me again. He's so gentle and sweet with me. He always asks before he does anything to make sure I'm okay with it. I'm not used to having someone so concerned for my well-being and it feels nice. It's good to have someone looking out for me for once.
"Zander, guess what Leah at school can do," Luke says, cutting off my thoughts as I watch him dig his heels into the dirt to stop swinging.
"No clue, buddy. What can she do?" Zander asks him as we both watch Luke jump down off of his swing and stand in front of us.
"She can do this."
He jumps up in the air kicking his legs out at odd angles and then loses his footing when he comes back down landing on his butt in the grass.
"Wow. I have no idea what that was. But if she can do that, she must be pretty cool," Zander jokes.
"It was a toe touch, duh," Luke says with a roll of his eyes as he stands up and wipes the dirt off of his jeans.
"That wasn't a toe touch," I tell him, standing up from my swing and going over next to him. "This, is a toe touch."
Raising both of my arms straight above my head, I take a deep breath, swing them back a little to build up my momentum, and then leap into the air, easily spreading my legs and touching my toes before coming back down and landing smoothly.
Both boys are staring at me with their mouths open and their eyes wide.
"Dude, you just did the splits in the air," Luke says in awe. "How did you do that?"
I shrug my shoulders like it's no big deal, because it isn't. I used to do those things in my sleep after eight years of cheerleading and eleven years of gymnastics.
"That was nothing," I tell him with a wink. "This might be a little cooler."
Stepping a few feet away from him, I put my feet together and my arms straight out in front of me, glancing over my shoulder quickly to make sure nothing is behind me. Swinging my arms down by my sides and bending my knees, I throw my body backwards until I'm flipping upside down in a perfect back handspring. My hands hit the ground first, then my feet follow and I stand up straight, unable to keep the smile off of my face. I can't even remember the last time I did this. It was probably the day before my mother died when I went to my last cheerleading practice ever.
"Oh my gosh, you HAVE to teach me how to do that so I can tell Leah to suck it!" Luke exclaims.
"LUKE!" Zander scolds. "Go over and play on the monkey bars for a while."
Luke huffs and kicks at a rock with the toe of his shoe. "Fine. I'll go for now, but I'll be back and you are going to teach me how to be awesome like you."
I laugh as he races away from us and over to the jungle gym.
"Well, there you have it. You are officially awesome," Zander says with a laugh as I walk over to him and sit back down on the swing next to him.
"It's good to know someone thinks so," I tell him with a smile as I push myself with my feet.
"Don't worry, he's not the only one. I happen to think you're pretty awesome myself. And my parents won't stop asking me when I'm going to bring you over again."
Tilting my head back and looking up at the sky as I swing, I take a deep breath of the spring air and feel peaceful for the first time in a long time. I'm not worried about my father, or the bakery, or how much I miss my mom. My only concern right now is wishing I could bottle this feeling and keep it with me forever.
"So now you've got me curious. Where did you learn how to do that stuff?" Zander asks.
Pulling my gaze away from the clouds, I look down at him and think about the person I used to be and what Dr. Thompson told me.
"You may find this hard to believe, but I used to be a cheerleader," I tell him.
"Why would I find that hard to believe?"
I shrug and lean my head against the chains that hold the swing.
"I'm not exactly the peppiest person in the world. People don't look at me and think, 'Now that girl's got a lot of spirit.' But they used to. I was loud and energetic and I loved to make people laugh," I tell him pensively.
"So what changed?"
His voice is soft and he turns himself in his swing so he's facing me.
"A lot of things I guess. One disaster after another until I just didn't care anymore. I didn't care if I was happy. I just cared about making it through each day."
We swing side-by-side in silence for a little while before he asks another question.
"Did you always want to work at the bakery?"
I shake my head as I watch Luke scaling the monkey bars off in the distance.
"I never wanted to work there. The bakery and I have a love/hate relationship. I love it because it reminds me of being younger, but I hate it for the same reasons. I'm only working there because I have to until my dad can finally get it together. If he doesn't, I guess I'll be working there until I die," I tell him, attempting to make a joke out of something that depresses me just thinking about it. That bakery was never my dream. It's depressing to think that I might spend the rest of my life living someone else's dream instead of my own.
"If you didn't have to work there, what would you be doing?" Zander asks.
I don't even have to think about my answer. I tell him the first thing that always comes to mind whenever anyone used to ask me this question.
"I'd be in college studying English and writing a book in my spare time."
I can feel his eyes on me, and I glance over at him to see a huge smile on his face.
"A writer, huh? That's pretty cool. Have you written anything before?" he asks.
"I've written a ton of things over the years. Poems, short stories, a couple of plays… It's probably all complete crap which is why I should go to school for it. I don't know. There's just something about sitting down and creating a story from scratch. Imagining another time, another place, and putting yourself there. Making the characters do and say exactly what you want them to and having the story unfold exactly how you planned. Nothing else exists but that story. You can shut out the world around you and just live in this make-believe place. People don't have to die or drink too much. You can turn the story into anything you want. I'll take a story over real life any day."
I realize I've been rambling and quickly force myself to stop. When I think about my writing, I always get worked up and I can talk about it for days.
"Will you let me read something you've written?" Zander asks.
"You wouldn't want to read anything I've written, believe me," I tell him with a laugh, thinking about all of the notebooks filled with sappy love poems and romance stories stashed in my closet.
"I beg to differ. I would love to read anything you wrote because it came from you. It came from your heart and your soul and it would be amazing," he tells me, bringing his swing to a stop and angling towards me.
Reaching his arms out, he wraps his hands around the chains of my swing and pulls me over to him until my legs are in between his own.
"If you could only write one story, one story that everyone would read, what would you want it to be about?" he asks as he stares into my eyes.
"My life," I whisper. "Does that sound narcissistic? Writing a book about myself?"
He shakes his head at me and smiles. "Nope, not at all. It's life. It's the bumps and the bruises, the pain and the fear; it's messy and it's real and it's not some perfect little story that can be tied up in a bow. It's exactly what you should write about. And I damn well better be the first one who gets to read it."
I laugh at him and do something I've wanted to do since we first got here. I lean forward and press my lips to his. Sliding one hand around the back of his neck, I run my fingers through his hair and hold his head against mine. While he grips tightly to the chains of my swing to hold me in place, I take my time kissing him and touching his face.
"Eeeeew, you guys are gross. You know you can get cooties that way, right?" Luke complains from right behind us.
We break apart slowly and laugh at his disgust.
Zander lets go of the chains and I swing away from him.
"Why aren't you busy playing?" Zander asks Luke.
"I'm bored. I don't have anyone to play with."
Jumping off of my swing, I grab Zander's hand and pull him up, walking us over to where Luke stands.
"I have an awesome idea. Something we can all do together," I tell him.
"Are you going to teach me how to flip?" he asks excitedly.
"Not yet," I tell him. "That's something you need to work up to."
Grabbing Zander by his arms, I position him so he's standing right next to Luke, and then I move right in front of them so we're facing each other.
"Okay, boys, hands on your hips," I instruct.
They do as I say and I try not to laugh at how serious and cute they both look. Luke is like a miniature version of Zander with dark hair and light eyes.
"Repeat after me. Go, fight, win."
They both say the words together, and when Luke messes up and starts to say them a second time, Zander shoves him in the shoulder, and Luke punches him back in the arm.
"Wow, that really sucked. I couldn't hear you at all," I teasingly admonish them.
They don't hesitate to scream the words as loud as they possibly can, and Luke starts coughing because of how high-pitched his voice goes.
"You both need some work, but we're moving on. Bring both of your arms up above your head in the shape of a V, like this..." I show them, making fists with my hands and raising my arms above my head.
"Another good thing about Legos. If it falls apart, it doesn't mean it's destroyed. It just means you have to pick up the pieces and start again."
He's looking at me instead of the Lego house when he says those words and now I understand the point of all of this. He's trying to tell me that I'm not broken. That no matter what my problems are, they don't have to break me.
"You can still pick up the pieces, Sugar. They fell apart for a little while, but it doesn't mean anything is damaged. Everything can be fixed. And you don't have to fix it alone. There's always someone who will help you rebuild."
I don't bother to try and stop the tears that pool in my eyes this time. I've kept myself closed off for so long that I'm actually surprised at how easy it is to cry. I feel the first tear slide down my cheek, and I don't bother to wipe it away. Zander scoots closer to me and moves my head down to his shoulder. He wraps both of his arms around me and pulls us back against the trunk of the tree and just holds me while I softly cry into his neck. It's frightening to open myself up so completely with someone. It's like closing your eyes and jumping off of a cliff, not knowing whether or not there will be a safety net at the bottom to catch you.
Right now, wrapped in Zander's arms as the sun slowly sets behind his parents' house, with a multicolored Lego house next to us that was broken and put back together again, I wonder if I've just found my safety net.
Chapter Eleven
"I think you're doing remarkably well considering everything," Dr. Thompson tells me, raising one eyebrow at me when she catches me picking at my nails. "You've taken a step back from your responsibilities and you're finally learning to live again."
I look away from her and stare at a black rosary that sits on the table next to her chair. I've never seen it before and wonder why it's there now. I hadn't realized she was Catholic, but I guess that isn't really a surprise since we're not here to talk about her. I tear my gaze away from the pile of beads to look back at her.
"I know you can get back to the girl you used to be. You just have to want it bad enough. People change as they get older, but parts of who they used to be are still in there and they carry that with them. Your sense of humor, your appreciation of life…those are all things that are still inside of you. They've just been dormant for so long you don't know how to find them. You can't let other people dictate what type of person you are. It's up to you to be who you want to be. Who do you want to be, Addison?"
I sit there for several long minutes and contemplate her words. I want to be me again. I want to look forward to the future and enjoy the simple things in life. I want to have friends again, and I want to be able to confide in someone without worrying about what they will think of me. I want to remember what it's like to not have a care in the world or anxiety about what the next day will bring. I want so many things. I'm just not sure if I'm strong enough to get them.
"No, Luke, we are not going for ice cream. You haven't even eaten lunch yet," Zander tells his little brother as we get out of the car at the park.
Luke grumbles his complaint as we wander over to the swing set and each of us grabs a swing.
To my surprise, I still haven't scared Zander away. We've spent every day together since his mother's birthday last weekend. He even helped me at the bakery one night when my dad had a meeting to go to. He dropped a tray of cupcakes and burned his arm on the oven, but he still swore he had the best time ever. I'm hoping it was because of how many times we snuck back into the kitchen to kiss. While Zander and Luke argue over the benefits of ice cream before lunch, I gently swing myself back and forth and think about how he wrapped his arms around me that night and lifted me up to sit on the island in the kitchen. I remember what it felt like to wrap my legs around his waist while he used his fingertips to touch every inch of my face as if he was memorizing it. When I close my eyes, I can still feel his hands inch under my shirt and the warmth of his palms as he moved them up over my ribcage to my breasts. Butterflies flutter through my stomach when I think about how badly I want his hands on me again. He's so gentle and sweet with me. He always asks before he does anything to make sure I'm okay with it. I'm not used to having someone so concerned for my well-being and it feels nice. It's good to have someone looking out for me for once.
"Zander, guess what Leah at school can do," Luke says, cutting off my thoughts as I watch him dig his heels into the dirt to stop swinging.
"No clue, buddy. What can she do?" Zander asks him as we both watch Luke jump down off of his swing and stand in front of us.
"She can do this."
He jumps up in the air kicking his legs out at odd angles and then loses his footing when he comes back down landing on his butt in the grass.
"Wow. I have no idea what that was. But if she can do that, she must be pretty cool," Zander jokes.
"It was a toe touch, duh," Luke says with a roll of his eyes as he stands up and wipes the dirt off of his jeans.
"That wasn't a toe touch," I tell him, standing up from my swing and going over next to him. "This, is a toe touch."
Raising both of my arms straight above my head, I take a deep breath, swing them back a little to build up my momentum, and then leap into the air, easily spreading my legs and touching my toes before coming back down and landing smoothly.
Both boys are staring at me with their mouths open and their eyes wide.
"Dude, you just did the splits in the air," Luke says in awe. "How did you do that?"
I shrug my shoulders like it's no big deal, because it isn't. I used to do those things in my sleep after eight years of cheerleading and eleven years of gymnastics.
"That was nothing," I tell him with a wink. "This might be a little cooler."
Stepping a few feet away from him, I put my feet together and my arms straight out in front of me, glancing over my shoulder quickly to make sure nothing is behind me. Swinging my arms down by my sides and bending my knees, I throw my body backwards until I'm flipping upside down in a perfect back handspring. My hands hit the ground first, then my feet follow and I stand up straight, unable to keep the smile off of my face. I can't even remember the last time I did this. It was probably the day before my mother died when I went to my last cheerleading practice ever.
"Oh my gosh, you HAVE to teach me how to do that so I can tell Leah to suck it!" Luke exclaims.
"LUKE!" Zander scolds. "Go over and play on the monkey bars for a while."
Luke huffs and kicks at a rock with the toe of his shoe. "Fine. I'll go for now, but I'll be back and you are going to teach me how to be awesome like you."
I laugh as he races away from us and over to the jungle gym.
"Well, there you have it. You are officially awesome," Zander says with a laugh as I walk over to him and sit back down on the swing next to him.
"It's good to know someone thinks so," I tell him with a smile as I push myself with my feet.
"Don't worry, he's not the only one. I happen to think you're pretty awesome myself. And my parents won't stop asking me when I'm going to bring you over again."
Tilting my head back and looking up at the sky as I swing, I take a deep breath of the spring air and feel peaceful for the first time in a long time. I'm not worried about my father, or the bakery, or how much I miss my mom. My only concern right now is wishing I could bottle this feeling and keep it with me forever.
"So now you've got me curious. Where did you learn how to do that stuff?" Zander asks.
Pulling my gaze away from the clouds, I look down at him and think about the person I used to be and what Dr. Thompson told me.
"You may find this hard to believe, but I used to be a cheerleader," I tell him.
"Why would I find that hard to believe?"
I shrug and lean my head against the chains that hold the swing.
"I'm not exactly the peppiest person in the world. People don't look at me and think, 'Now that girl's got a lot of spirit.' But they used to. I was loud and energetic and I loved to make people laugh," I tell him pensively.
"So what changed?"
His voice is soft and he turns himself in his swing so he's facing me.
"A lot of things I guess. One disaster after another until I just didn't care anymore. I didn't care if I was happy. I just cared about making it through each day."
We swing side-by-side in silence for a little while before he asks another question.
"Did you always want to work at the bakery?"
I shake my head as I watch Luke scaling the monkey bars off in the distance.
"I never wanted to work there. The bakery and I have a love/hate relationship. I love it because it reminds me of being younger, but I hate it for the same reasons. I'm only working there because I have to until my dad can finally get it together. If he doesn't, I guess I'll be working there until I die," I tell him, attempting to make a joke out of something that depresses me just thinking about it. That bakery was never my dream. It's depressing to think that I might spend the rest of my life living someone else's dream instead of my own.
"If you didn't have to work there, what would you be doing?" Zander asks.
I don't even have to think about my answer. I tell him the first thing that always comes to mind whenever anyone used to ask me this question.
"I'd be in college studying English and writing a book in my spare time."
I can feel his eyes on me, and I glance over at him to see a huge smile on his face.
"A writer, huh? That's pretty cool. Have you written anything before?" he asks.
"I've written a ton of things over the years. Poems, short stories, a couple of plays… It's probably all complete crap which is why I should go to school for it. I don't know. There's just something about sitting down and creating a story from scratch. Imagining another time, another place, and putting yourself there. Making the characters do and say exactly what you want them to and having the story unfold exactly how you planned. Nothing else exists but that story. You can shut out the world around you and just live in this make-believe place. People don't have to die or drink too much. You can turn the story into anything you want. I'll take a story over real life any day."
I realize I've been rambling and quickly force myself to stop. When I think about my writing, I always get worked up and I can talk about it for days.
"Will you let me read something you've written?" Zander asks.
"You wouldn't want to read anything I've written, believe me," I tell him with a laugh, thinking about all of the notebooks filled with sappy love poems and romance stories stashed in my closet.
"I beg to differ. I would love to read anything you wrote because it came from you. It came from your heart and your soul and it would be amazing," he tells me, bringing his swing to a stop and angling towards me.
Reaching his arms out, he wraps his hands around the chains of my swing and pulls me over to him until my legs are in between his own.
"If you could only write one story, one story that everyone would read, what would you want it to be about?" he asks as he stares into my eyes.
"My life," I whisper. "Does that sound narcissistic? Writing a book about myself?"
He shakes his head at me and smiles. "Nope, not at all. It's life. It's the bumps and the bruises, the pain and the fear; it's messy and it's real and it's not some perfect little story that can be tied up in a bow. It's exactly what you should write about. And I damn well better be the first one who gets to read it."
I laugh at him and do something I've wanted to do since we first got here. I lean forward and press my lips to his. Sliding one hand around the back of his neck, I run my fingers through his hair and hold his head against mine. While he grips tightly to the chains of my swing to hold me in place, I take my time kissing him and touching his face.
"Eeeeew, you guys are gross. You know you can get cooties that way, right?" Luke complains from right behind us.
We break apart slowly and laugh at his disgust.
Zander lets go of the chains and I swing away from him.
"Why aren't you busy playing?" Zander asks Luke.
"I'm bored. I don't have anyone to play with."
Jumping off of my swing, I grab Zander's hand and pull him up, walking us over to where Luke stands.
"I have an awesome idea. Something we can all do together," I tell him.
"Are you going to teach me how to flip?" he asks excitedly.
"Not yet," I tell him. "That's something you need to work up to."
Grabbing Zander by his arms, I position him so he's standing right next to Luke, and then I move right in front of them so we're facing each other.
"Okay, boys, hands on your hips," I instruct.
They do as I say and I try not to laugh at how serious and cute they both look. Luke is like a miniature version of Zander with dark hair and light eyes.
"Repeat after me. Go, fight, win."
They both say the words together, and when Luke messes up and starts to say them a second time, Zander shoves him in the shoulder, and Luke punches him back in the arm.
"Wow, that really sucked. I couldn't hear you at all," I teasingly admonish them.
They don't hesitate to scream the words as loud as they possibly can, and Luke starts coughing because of how high-pitched his voice goes.
"You both need some work, but we're moving on. Bring both of your arms up above your head in the shape of a V, like this..." I show them, making fists with my hands and raising my arms above my head.
