Chapter 13

The next several days went by in a haze. I was there, but can't tell you anything much that happened; other than that we buried Joyie and I didn't get much sleep because of the nightmares haunting me. I started seeing a counselor on the Monday Brad and I went back to school, and went to see her all that week, but by the end of the week, I decided I was tired of dealing with everything. I just wanted it to all go away and decided the best way to get it to go was to not talk about anything dealing with Joyie.

I also broke up with Brad, which was stupid, but at the time I didn't want anyone else close to me that I might lose. I even pushed Dad and Mom away as far as I could. In short, I became a brat and pushed everyone to their last button.

One Saturday morning, three weeks after Joyie's death, I heard rain tapping at the window. My head felt too heavy to be lifted off the pillow; my mouth was dry and sour. I concentrated on not throwing up and then opened my right eye. For the first few seconds I didn't know where I was, but after a momentary panic, my brain connected the desk chair and the window seat with Brad's room.

I gone to a party with my cousins the night before and could remember getting drunk for the first time in my life and climbing out the bathroom window to get away from a guy who wanted to have sex with me. He'd been as drunk as I and the escape wasn't much of a feat.

Relaxing, I pulled the sheet over my throbbing head and closed my eyes.

The door opened.

"Virginia?" Brad said softly.

"I'm asleep."

He sat down on the bed and touched my shoulder. "Sweetie, you have to face me sometime."

"Go away," I muttered, burrowing deeper under the covers. "I'll face you later."

"Oh, no you won't." He jerked back the sheet. "You got me out of bed at three this morning, breaking a three week silence, and you're going to keep talking to me. I am not letting you run away from me anymore."

"What I do is none of your business," I mumbled, hoping he would get angry and leave.

"I'm not going to get mad at you, either." He sounded amused.

"Mr. Perfect, as always."

"You know better than that."

Sighing, I flopped on my back and winced. "I'm facing you, now. Satisfied?"

His green eyes searched my face. "Do you remember calling me?"

I admitted that I didn't and said, "But, then, not remembering's the whole idea."

"Does that idea include killing yourself, too?"

I looked over his shoulder at the picture of us on his dresser. Mr. Mobley had made one of us with the twins one afternoon when we'd gone to the park.

"You still have the picture up," I said.

"I still love you," he replied softly, taking my chin in his fingers and forcing me to look at him. "Now, stop changing the subject." I'd put my picture along with everything else he'd ever given me in a box under my bed.

"Right. So we're not the subject any more."

"I didn't say that. You are the subject. Virginia, you have got to--"

"Don't lecture me."

"You lied to your parents about where you going last night."

"It's none of your business."

I sat up and closed her eyes, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

"Virginia, you've got to stop treating me, your parents, and everyone else like we don't exist. You need to go back to counseling."