Old Wounds: Little Battles Part 18

In under a half-hour, I was sitting in Stephen's study, facing him and Robin. I had no idea which hat she was wearing: concerned maternal figure, or cold, a.n.a.lyzing therapist. Stephen was openly studying me as a doctor would study a cancerous cell on a slide under a microscope.

"What happened at school, Elliott?"

I sighed in frustration. They knew what happened. David had told them. The princ.i.p.al had called, and Stephen had been working today. He was probably there when they brought Chris in. I hated when they played dumb.

"D-d-didn't the sc-school tell you?"

Stephen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was Robin who summed it all up.

"You were fighting with the Anderson boy, but what were you fighting about?"

"H-h-hhhhe's a d-d.i.c.k."

Although he c.o.c.ked an eyebrow, Stephen's face remained clinical. "According to David, he's been mean to you since middle school. Robin is asking what specifically happened today."

"N-n-nothing h-happened t-t-today."

Robin smiled and I didn't like it. "Elliott, you don't fight. You don't even argue, and now you're suspended for getting into a fistfight with someone you usually let intimidate you. Please let us know what's happening. What made you hit him?"

My jaw was tensed, causing me pain. I didn't want to tell them anything, because it wasn't their business, and they were clearly ill-suited to help people like Sophie and me. But my mouth made sounds that formed words. "H-hhhe f-f-f-f-fffff.u.c.ked SSSSSoph-ph-phie at a p-party w-when sssshe was p-p-pa.s.sed out." I'd never used that word before.

"Oh," was all Stephen could contribute, while Robin frowned.

"Did she tell you that?" she finally asked.

"Y-yes."

"And you were protecting her today?" I said nothing. "What do you think about what Chris did? Do you have any feelings about it?"

"Hhhe's a r-r-rrrrapist! And it m-m-mmmakes m-me m-mmad."

"Did she say that he raped her?"

"N-n-no, b-but one c-can't ggggive c-consent if they're n-not c-c-c-c-c...aw-w-wake."

The room was quiet for a moment, and then Stephen took a deep breath. "You broke Chris's jaw, Elliott."

"G-g-ggggood."

He looked up in shock, but I hardened my expression. Maybe Chris wouldn't be able to talk now.

"You broke his nose."

My jaw tightened.

"I hadn't thought you capable of that."

Neither had I.

I was happy that I found her online after Stephen and Robin let me go to my room.

EDalton123: Are you there?

YoSoph: What the f.u.c.k, Elliott? Did you do that s.h.i.+t to Anderson?

Apparently I wasn't quite as over my agitation as I thought, because I had no idea what her tone was and if she was upset with me, and pus.h.i.+ng me away, or being sincere. I didn't think I could handle her being upset with me for hitting him.

EDalton123: Yes.

YoSoph: Why?

EDalton123: You don't know?

YoSoph: Don't get in trouble because of me. That's f.u.c.ked up. I'm not worth that s.h.i.+t.

EDalton123: Yes, you are.

YoSoph: That's jacked.

EDalton123: Fine, I hit him because he's an a.s.shole, which in no way involves you, so my getting in trouble wasn't because of you. Is that better?

YoSoph: No.

EDalton123: Are you mad?

YoSoph: At you? No. Why would I be? Anderson never looked so good.

EDalton123: Funny. Come over tomorrow?

YoSoph: Tom's being a parent. I'm "grounded." BTW, did you tell Dr. Dalton or Wallace about me smoking pot?

I'd never told either of them, even if we'd had a hypothetical discussion about it.

EDalton123: No.

YoSoph: All my s.h.i.+t's gone and I don't appreciate it.

EDalton123: You don't have to get high all the time.

YoSoph: Whatever, Elliott. So what's your punishment for beating Anderson?

EDalton123: It's not really a punishment. I have the rest of the week off of school.

YoSoph: I'll skip tomorrow and take the bus to see you.

EDalton123: Don't get in trouble for me.

YoSoph: I'll get in trouble for me then. Is that better?

EDalton123: No. But I want you to come over anyway.

YoSoph: What time will everyone be gone over there?

EDalton123: Stephen works at 10, so probably 9:30.

YoSoph: In case you did hit him because of me, thank you.

I sighed.

EDalton123: You're welcome.

It was just a little after ten in the morning when Sophie rang the doorbell. I didn't want her to get in trouble for skipping school or for breaking her father's grounding rules, but I was extremely happy that she was here.

"Trick or treat," she said with a smile as I opened the door.

I smiled back, having forgotten that it was Halloween. "H-h-hhhi." I motioned to the red pointy horns atop her head. "N-nice."

Stepping aside, I invited her in. "They sell them at work. I thought they were perfect for me, since I'm apparently corrupting you into school suspensions and bare-knuckle boxing." She came in, bringing her lovely scent with her, but stopped short when she saw my hands, and gently touched them. "Jesus, Elliott."

I flinched and knew she wouldn't like what she saw. "They d-d-don't hhhurt."

She shut the door before taking my bandaged hands. "That's bulls.h.i.+t. I know that hurts."

"It w-was w-w-worth it."

I was surprised but delighted when she pressed into me, burying her head in my chest as she coiled and fisted her hands in my s.h.i.+rt. I'd begun to work on pure instinct around Sophie, and my arms very naturally reached out and pulled her close to me, as close as she could possibly get.

I breathed her in and felt charged and replenished.

She did not pull away from me after a few short moments like she usually did. Instead, she let me hold her like that for what had to be close to three minutes. It was unexpected, and gave me more time to get used to the feeling of someone being that close.

There was no speaking or noise of any kind. Our arms were wrapped around each other loosely, almost just hanging on. I could feel the rise and fall of her chest against my torso. Her ear was over my ribcage in just the right place that I knew she was listening to my overactive heart thump, but I could only hear the quiet pull of my own breath.

Even though this small moment of simple and unguarded affection lasted longer than usual, it was no less abrupt and jarring when she pulled away so completely that I was left with nothing but the quickly fading warmth she'd left behind.

She was at least three feet away from me now, her face heavily guarded as if I'd just tried to steal something precious from her. But she had initiated that contact, so whatever her expression meant, it couldn't have been directed at me.

"Do you want me to make you breakfast?"

I had already eaten a piece of toast, but if she wanted to cook me something, there was no way I was going to say no. I figured she wouldn't offer to cook for me if she didn't want to, and it really had been a long time since I'd had this many home-cooked meals. Sophie's food was good. It wasn't throw-together things. She was skilled and talented. Regardless of why she'd started when she was young, she was good at it. Even the meal she cooked a few days ago, the one she said wouldn't be awesome, had been incredibly delicious. I was not a food critic, but Sophie layered flavors and textures in her food, and I would venture to guess that her creations were just as good as five-star restaurants.

I nodded. "I-I-I m-made c-coffee."

Sophie did what she always did when she entered the kitchen; she opened up every cabinet and drawer, the freezer and the refrigerator in turn, checking out the contents. "Doesn't Dr. Dalton make good money?"

I shrugged, combining it with a nod because I didn't know why she was asking.

"I thought people who made good money would eat good food. Every time I come over here it's like you have a box of Lucky Charms, Wonder bread, a gallon of the cheapest brand of milk, and that's it. Shouldn't you guys be eating the good s.h.i.+t?"

"N-n-no one cooks." I found it interesting that while she didn't like to prepare food, and got annoyed when people brought up her own eating habits, she seemed to care an awful lot about what other people ate.

"Well, what do you eat every day? Because Dr. Dalton should know those Hot Pockets are nutritionally void."

"C-c-can I help you w-with that?" I asked as she started pulling things out from the cupboards.

"Not with those you can't."

I looked down at my hands and suddenly wished they didn't hurt anymore so that I could have been useful.

"I mean, really, what the h.e.l.l is this?" she asked, holding up some kind of boxed dinner. She didn't let me answer. "It's s.h.i.+t," she said shaking her head. "You should learn how to cook, Elliott. What will you do if no one can buy you take-out anymore? You'll get sick because PB&J and grilled cheese aren't enough to sustain life for long."

I knew that, logically, she was right. I should know how to take care of myself if no one else was around, and I knew she was speaking from experience.

"How many of those did you break?"

I glanced at her, caught off-guard by her sudden change of topic, and she nodded toward my hands. I pulled them off of the island and into my lap. "F-f-four."

She sighed, but then turned back to the food on the counter. "How will you play music now?"

It didn't really matter how I would play music, because I would gladly give it up for the rest of my life if it meant that I could save her from people like Chris. "I-I'll p-play it in m-my hhhead."

I continued to watch her, noting how quickly she worked and the way she placed the knife down on the cutting board the same way each time. She found a clean dishtowel in the drawer and spray cleaner under the sink, and would clean every spot on the counter after it had been used.

She washed her hands five times in eight minutes, each time rolling her shoulders back as she did. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder, exposing the entire length of one side of her beautiful neck. It was not the side with the fork scar. It was blemish-free.

I had no idea what she was making, but I enjoyed watching her make it.

"Kate must not have taken her stuff when she left, huh?"

I straightened up, confused, wondering why she suddenly mentioned Kate. "W-what?"

"It's easily a couple of hundred dollars for this knife alone. She probably liked to spend money on s.h.i.+t like that, right?"

Kate did spend money on kitchen things. I supposed because she liked to cook. "I g-guess."

"Because this is name-brand s.h.i.+t, Elliott. It didn't come from Wal-Mart. It's a shame no one uses it."

"Y-you're using it."

She finished chopping onion, rinsed her knife, wiped the spot on the counter where the wet vegetables had rested, and then put all of the dishes carefully into the dishwasher.

"Are you mad at Kate for leaving?"

I took a deep breath, not really knowing how to answer the question. We'd been saving things like this for e-mails, and while I had no problem sharing the answer with Sophie, my mouth and mind probably wouldn't give me the opportunity to speak about it effectively. But she'd asked, and I didn't want to set a precedent for not answering a question.

"I-it w-wasn't her fffault she didn't w-want k-kids. E-e-essssspecially k-kids liiike us. They sssshould've talked about it b-before they got m-married."

"You're such an incredibly forgiving person, Elliott. It's f.u.c.king insane how forgiving you are. How can you do that?"