Chasing the Tide Page 4

  “You said the living room would be pretty painted yellow. You smiled when you said it.”

  “I did?” Flynn’s recall of seemingly insignificant details continued to astound me. What most people didn’t think was important, mattered the most to him.

  “Right before you went to school. We were sitting in the living room. You told me you always wanted a yellow room when you were growing up. That it used to be your favorite color. So when I needed to re-paint the room, I chose yellow. This is your home now too. I want you to like it.”

  Christ. My throat was in danger of closing up. And damned if those weren’t tears burning the back of my eyes.

  “Oh,” I cleared my throat. “It’s really nice,” I said, my voice cracking just the slightest at the wave of emotion that threatened to take me under.

  His simple, thoughtful action was perhaps the best homecoming I could ever have.

  “Let’s sit in the yellow living room,” I said, quickly wiping at my eyes that had somehow become wet.

  “I don’t eat in the living room. You could leave crumbs and that attracts mice. And ants,” Flynn lectured.

  I shoved the rest of my bread in my mouth and put the now empty plate in the sink, raising my hands in front of me.

  “All done,” I said.

  Flynn nodded solemnly. “Okay then. Let’s go into the living room.” I reached out to take his hand as he walked past me. Without hesitation this time, he threaded his fingers through mine.

  “You hand is warm,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

  “You sure know how to sweet talk a girl,” I simpered, batting my eyelashes.

  “I do? Was that a nice compliment?” he asked, smiling, his white, even teeth gleaming.

  I chuckled. “Never mind, Flynn.” I lifted our joined hands and kissed his knuckles. He smiled wider.

  “I missed your lips,” he said.

  I flushed. I didn’t know why exactly. But his simple, honest words made my insides flutter like I was a schoolgirl again. And I had never, ever been a fluttery schoolgirl.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, not sure what to say.

  We walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. The yellow really did lighten up the space and I was touched that Flynn had done this for me. I saw the guitar he had bought me all those years ago on a stand in the corner of the room next to a desk with a laptop and a lamp I recognized from the apartment I had lived in before going to school.

  The few furnishings that hadn’t been dumped in the landfill when I moved away had ended up here. Waiting for me.

  Just like Flynn.

  “We should get your suitcases out of the car. I cleaned out two drawers in my dresser for your stuff. Leonard said I should make the house feel like yours too. Because it is, Ellie. It’s your house now. So I cleaned out the drawers. And I made room in my closet. We should put your stuff away. I also made you a key.”

  He seemed nervous and I wondered if he too was feeling the pressure of this moment. The need to make it perfect. To make it right.

  He produced a silver key from his pocket and handed it to me. He pressed it into my palm, the jagged edges digging into my hand.

  “It’s fine, Flynn. We don’t have to do that right now. I’ve been driving for hours. I’d kind of like to chill out for a bit. Relax,” I told him, kicking off my shoes and leaned back into the couch cushions.

  “But your clothes will be all wrinkled. You should hang them up. I can do it for you if you want,” Flynn suggested, starting to get to his feet. I grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him back down beside me.

  “Later, Flynn.”

  He sat rigidly beside me, our arms brushing against each other. I had said I wanted to relax but I felt uptight. Anxious almost.

  This was awkward.

  Maybe I should have gotten my own place. Perhaps we weren’t at a point where co-habiting was the best idea. We hadn’t spent more than a few days together at any given time in the last three years. I was starting to think this was the beginning of a huge mistake.

  I couldn’t even remember who had made the suggestion for me to move in with him after I had graduated. It had just seemed like a given. I had promised Flynn I’d come back. That we’d be together again.

  And here we were.

  So why did I feel as though I were standing at the edge of a cliff just waiting to tip over?

  Murphy sat down on the floor between our feet. He leaned heavily against my legs and I appreciated the comfort he unknowingly gave me.

  “Are you hungry?” Flynn asked after a beat.

  “We just had banana bread,” I reminded him.

  More silence.

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Ellie,” he admitted finally. He sounded bored but I knew otherwise. His hands were fisted in his lap, his knuckles white. His jaw was tight with agitation and I knew he was struggling.

  I let out a breath and reached out to curl my hand around his fisted ones. “I don’t either. I guess we’ll have to figure it out together.”

  Slowly his fingers loosened and he held my hand once again.

  “I said that one day you wouldn’t miss me anymore,” he stated, and I could almost see his smile. Even if his bored tone made it hard to read him, I knew he was happy.

  I laid my head on his shoulder. His words reminding me of a time I hadn’t been so certain that our story’s ending would be a happy one.

  But he had been right.

  Because I wasn’t missing him anymore.

  “No I don’t, Flynn. I came back.”

  I felt Flynn lay his cheek on top of my head.

  “You came back.”

  Chapter Four

  -Flynn-

  A few years ago

  Ellie is gone. I stand on my porch and watch her drive away.

  It hurt.

  A lot.

  But it makes me happy, too.

  I know that’s how I should feel. Happy and hurting.

  Because I love Ellie and I want her to do what’s best for her.

  But I miss her already. She only left five minutes ago and I feel like screaming and yelling.

  I get so angry with myself because I wish I could go with her.

  But I can’t.

  Thinking about going to a place I don’t know makes me feel anxious. Sick even.

  When she first told me about going away to college, I threw up in the toilet after she left. She asked me to come with her and I told her I couldn’t.

  She had been upset. She had tears in her eyes.

  I didn’t like the feeling in my chest when she was upset.

  It hurt.

  It makes me want to scream and yell. But I try not to do that anymore.

  Because making Ellie smile is better than seeing her cry.

  I wish I could be the sort of person that could go to new places. I wanted to tell her yes, that I would go with her.

  But I didn’t want her worrying about me when she should be worrying about herself.

  So I told her no.

  And now Ellie is gone.

  I know that one day Ellie will come back to Wellston.

  She said she would.

  She said I am her home.

  I believe her.

  I’ve always believed her.

  Her car has been gone awhile and Murphy is whining. He is hungry and wants to chase the ball in the yard.

  I don’t feel like throwing the ball though. I don’t like knowing that Ellie’s car won’t be coming back.

  She left. I had told her to go.

  Now I feel mad.

  I kick a flowerpot off the porch.

  “Ouch!” I yell because now my toe hurts.

  I go back in the house and slam the door behind me.

  I pick up the coffee cup that Ellie left on the table. She should have put it in the sink. She knows I hate it when things are left out.

  She should have cleaned up before she had gotten in her car and left.

  But she didn’t. And now
I have to clean up after her.

  That makes me really angry!

  I pick up the mug and throw it against the wall. It shatters into pieces and falls to the floor.

  Murphy yelps and I feel bad. I don’t want to make him scared.

  I am being loud and angry and I don’t like it.

  Kevin told me once that I should count backwards when I feel upset. That I need to go to a happy place.

  But my happy place is with Ellie.

  And she’s gone.

  She should be on the interstate by now. It is two hundred and sixty-nine miles to her school. She will be driving for four hours and thirty-two minutes. I helped her calculate the distance. She will need to stop for gas in eighty-three miles.

  I feel better knowing where she is going and what she is doing.

  She said she’d call me when she got to Maryland.

  I scratch behind Murphy’s ear in the way Ellie says he likes. Then I get the broom and clean up the mess.

  **

  “I’m here,” Ellie says and I’m happy to hear from her. I watched the clock all day. Then I would look at the map and follow the route I knew she was taking.

  She should have gotten to Baltimore an hour ago. Why was she only calling me now? I had worried, thinking something was wrong.

  “You should have gotten to Baltimore an hour ago,” I say.

  “I had to find the school first, Flynn. And then I had to get checked in and figure out where to go.” She sounds irritated. Mad maybe.

  Why is she mad?

  Did I say something wrong?

  “Oh,” I say.

  I hear Ellie make a noise that’s a lot like breathing.

  “Things are different now, Flynn. I won’t always be able to call you when I say I will. I’ll be busy. You have your new teaching job. I have school. You have to be…flexible.”

  I start tapping my fingers on the table. One. Two. Three.

  One. Two. Three.

  “Flexible,” I say.

  “Yes, Flynn. Flexible. Things aren’t going to be exactly as you expect them to be. You can’t get mad or upset if things stray from normal.”

  I don’t like what she is saying. Why won’t she call me when she says she will? If she says she will call me, then she should. It’s the polite thing to do.

  “It’s rude to not do what you say you’re going to do,” I tell her. Maybe she needs to be reminded like I do sometimes.

  Ellie makes that loud, breathing noise again.

  “Flynn…”

  I don’t like how she is saying my name. I know she’s mad at me. I’m learning to hear the feelings in people’s voices.

  I know Ellie’s feelings because she will tell me.

  “You’re mad at me,” I say, knowing I’m right.

  “I’m not mad, Flynn. I guess I’m just worried.”

  “Worried. Why?” I ask her.

  Why is Ellie worried? Had something happened already?

  “Because I’m not sure we’ll be able to get through this.”

  “Through what?”

  “Me being here. You being there. It’s hard enough having a long distance relationship when you’re dealing with people without our… issues.”

  “You’re saying we have issues,” I repeat.

  Ellie laughs. Good, she’s happy now.

  “Flynn we have so many damn issues that we could write the book on it.”

  “Don’t cuss, Ellie. And I don’t want to write a book. I hate writing.” She knows that. I’d rather make sculptures or draw.

  “That’s not what I’m—you know what, never mind. I should go. I’ve got to unpack and you start your new job tomorrow right?”

  “Yes, I do,” I tell her. I start tapping the table again.

  One. Two. Three.

  “You’ll be great,” Ellie says and I smile. She makes me feel good.

  I miss her.

  “I miss you. I didn’t like watching your car drive away,” I tell her.

  Ellie is quiet and I think she’s hung up. Why would she hang up? Did I make her mad again?

  “I miss you, too,” she says and I smile because she didn’t hang up.

  “You need to unpack. I can’t sleep until I unpack. It’s good to know where everything is. It’ll help you relax,” I say, wanting to tell her something that will help her.

  “Thanks, Flynn. I’ll do that. And I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “When?” I ask. I like to know times. That way I can plan. Plans are good.

  “I don’t know. I have to get my schedule. How about I make it a surprise?”

  “Okay. Surprises are good,” I agree.

  “Good luck tomorrow.”

  I tap my fingers harder on the table. The thought of my job makes me nervous.

  “Thanks. Good luck unpacking. And with school,” I tell her.

  “I love you, Flynn,” Ellie says. It makes my stomach roll and my chest burn. It makes me smile when Ellie tells me she loves me.

  No one but my mother has ever said they loved me.

  No one until Ellie.

  I feel good. And happy. I miss her more.

  “Bye, Ellie. Surprise me tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Flynn.”

  Chapter Five

  -Ellie-

  “Why do I have to go to a doctor? I’m not sick!” I demand. Julie gave me a smile that didn’t look much like a happy smile. She was driving on the interstate. She promised she wasn’t taking me to a new house.

  I haven’t been with the Metcalfs for very long. Only a few weeks. It hasn’t been too bad. A lot better than living with the Bennetts. Their son, Sean, would make me take showers with him. It was really weird. I was only eight and a half but I knew that was wrong.

  He had told me not to tell anyone. He was thirteen and a lot bigger than I was. He twisted my arm behind my back until I told him I wouldn’t say anything. It made me really angry. I hated being alone with him.

  So I set fire to their kitchen. And Julie took me to a new family.

  Mrs. Metcalf was okay and Mr. Metcalf was never around. Their youngest daughter, Pearl, was annoying and wouldn’t stay out of my room. I didn’t like people touching my stuff. I got into trouble when I yelled at her for picking up Clive. Mrs. Metcalf didn’t like that and told me to apologize. I wouldn’t. Pearl should apologize for touching Clive. I told her not to go near my things.

  “It’s not that kind of doctor, Ellie,” Julie said.

  “What kind of doctor is it then?” I asked, hugging Clive to my chest.

  “It’s the kind of doctor that you can talk to about your feelings. And maybe can help us figure out how to make you feel happier.”

  “Like a shrink?” I asked, biting on my thumbnail and looking out the window.

  Julie snorted. “And what’s a shrink?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s like all those other people you’ve made me go talk to. Like the lady who kept asking how I felt about my mom leaving me.”

  I didn’t like talking about my feelings. I got angry. I hit stuff. Then I’d get in trouble and have to go live with a new family.

  Talking about feelings was bad for me.

  “They can help you if you let them,” Julie said and I rolled my eyes again.

  “I don’t want to go!” I yelled, pounding my fist into the seat.

  “You’ve got a lot of anger, Ellie. I just want to know how to help you.”

  “Shut up!” I screamed, smacking my forehead against the window hard enough to bruise.

  “Don’t do that, Ellie!” Julie scolded as I hit my head against the window again.

  It really hurt. I was mad. And upset. I wanted to cry. And yell. And hurt myself.

  I started smacking my head with my hand. The sting hurt but I couldn’t stop.

  “Shut up and take me back!” I demanded, hitting myself harder.

  Suddenly Julie stopped the car and got out. I was yelling and hitting myself.

  Then she was pulling on my arms and holding my ha
nds. I struggled against her. I tried to bite her but couldn’t.

  I spit in her face and got one of my hands free. I pulled on her hair hard.

  Julie didn’t hit me. She didn’t yell. She held my hands in her hers as I fought against her.

  “Shh. It’s okay, Ellie,” she said quietly.

  I stopped fighting against her.

  Suddenly I was really, really tired. I just wanted to go to sleep.

  “Don’t make me go, Julie,” I said. My head hurt.

  “Don’t you see, Ellie, if you ever want to find a family, you can’t act like this. You can’t hit and yell and scream. We have to figure out a way to make you less angry.”

  “I’ll never have a family. No one wants me,” I said and I didn’t cry. I never cried. It was only the truth.

  No one wanted me.

  And they never would.

  **

  The first time I remember being told I had Reactive Attachment Disorder (or RAD if you’re too lazy to say the whole thing), it didn’t mean shit.

  I was an angry nine-year-old kid with a boatload of issues and not enough people invested in caring about the whys.

  Sure, it explained to the few adults in my life the reasons why I reacted so violently. Why when I became upset I chose to hit and kick my foster parents. Or why I would urinate on the carpet in defiance over having TV time taken away.

  Julie and my foster parents were told that I was unable to empathize. I didn’t possess that important chemical makeup that made it possible for me to understand and identify with the feelings of others. As a result I didn’t think anything of hurting others. I kept them at arm’s length. I refused to emotionally attach with anyone.

  Friendships were non-existent. Parental attachment impossible.

  I was unloved and in return I had lost the ability to feel anything other than anger and rage.

  I was a fucked up kid that grew into a fucked up adult.

  Was it any wonder that I had ended up in juvie at the age of sixteen?

  Was it any wonder that I slept with most of the boys in my grade by the time I had developed boobs?

  I had been an emotional void. Unable to care about anything or anyone.

  It was a lonely, miserable existence.

  So how was it that a girl with deep, agonizing scars on her psyche was able to open herself up to an awkward, socially inept boy?