Sam and Deena B.S.F (Before Sarah Fier)

Deena Johnson Part 7

I woke up on the first day of exam week feeling good. I studied a shit-ton the weekend before, and Sam stayed up late last night, on the phone with me, reviewing stuff last minute. I was feeling confident in myself, a feeling I hadn't gotten familiar with in a long time. Before I yelled at Josh to come upstairs so we can leave, I noticed Dad didn't leave a note on the fridge like he does every morning. I thought maybe he was home then, but nope he wasn't home.

"JOSH!! GET YOUR ASS UP HERE, COME ON!" I hear Josh's footsteps running up the stairs. He gets to me, out of breath.

"Do you know where Dad is?" I asked him as he's leaned forward, breathing in heavy puffs.

"No but... I did hear... the front door... opening... earlier..."

"So he left without saying anything? Great. Whatever, get in the car."

The first day went by fast. The Algebra exam was pretty tough, but I think I pulled through at the very end there. After school, Josh and I spent the afternoon going around town, asking if anyone's seen our dad. I didn't bother telling Kate or anyone what we were doing since I didn't want them to worry. Dad being missing isn't their problem, it's mine, so I have to be the one to fix it. When it got dark at 7:00, we gave up and drove home. When we got in the house, Josh and I found our father, passed out drunk on the couch as usual. We wasted a whole afternoon for this pile of shit. The next morning was the same. Did exams, came home, studied, found Dad asleep, same thing. When I got home everyday to find Dad passed out on the couch, I would just stand there and look at him. It was the longest I had ever looked at him everyday, but he was sleeping so he didn't even notice me anyway. But I would look at him, and every time I just felt sorry for myself. Like this was the life I was given, and I just gotta roll with it. I would look at my dad and think to myself, "Man, I hope I don't end up a pathetic loser when I'm his age." And so I'd think of that same thought when I was doing my exams, I had that message, loud and clear in my brain, "Think about Dad, Think about Dad, you don't want to be like him so do better, Deena. Do better so you don't wake up in thirty years and regret being a lousy teenager who can't keep her mouth shut, and just try your hardest on this question, just try, Deena." And I'd walk out of that school after every test day, feeling like I owned the fucking planet.

...

When I got my results on Friday all that I worked towards was just wiped away clean and there was nothing I could do about it. I can't go back in time and pick A instead of B, no, all I can do now is hope to God I can make this grade up because if I don't, that futon couch is waiting for me to take that crater in the cushion my dad made and I'm gonna be the next person to hog that couch for another thirty more years.

...

I pushed Sam's hands off of me and ran to my car, leaving her in my trail of sorrow.

"Deena! Where are you going?!"

Josh was already waiting by the car and as soon as he saw me barreling towards him, my head literally fuming, he didn't even hesitate, he just got in. I sped home and went straight into my room.

...

I threw my backpack onto the bed, ripping the strap but I didn't care. I ripped the rest of the strap off the backpack and threw it somewhere in my room. I crumbled to the floor and cried. I cried more than I thought I would. I'm not a big cryer, I'm not big on expressing myself either. The one thing I'm great at is hiding my emotions, which is bad, I know, but it's the one thing I'm good at. I hope to God Dad isn't home. I can't have him walking in on me like this.

Minutes later, Sam came in and tried consoling me. I don't remember much of what she said, it's all one hazy blur. But once Sam brought up my dad...

"He loves you so much, Deena." I look at Sam like I'm about to hurl. Is she fucking with me right now?

"You don't know anything." I said to her, my words projecting from my stomach. I watch Sam look to the floor, as if she's thinking something over. Like she's about to confess something that's been bothering her. My breath staggers as I wait for her to talk... As Sam goes on about her talk with Dad and what he said and whatever, I feel my jaw tremble in disbelief. It sickens me that he chose to tell Sam over me. What's worse, is that it hurts that Sam kept this from me for so long. She could've told me at any time, but didn't until right now. Why now? Why right now?

All I could think about was that I let down everyone that wanted me to succeed. These people gave me their time and energy to help me pass my finals, but I ruined it for them. I ruined it for them. I've ruined everything so far that Dad can't even talk to me. If I can't make this up, then I'm ruining my future, my future with Sam. But who knows if I even have that now? 

When Sam charged out of my room, her cool breeze whizzed across my face, making my tears dry instantly. I don't run after her. I should've, though. I should've asked her to stay and I should've said I was sorry for saying all those hurtful things because I didn't really mean it. But it's too late because she's already out the door.

...

Kate and Simon knock on the door after a few minutes. I'm sitting on the floor, staring at my bed. Every exhale, I feel a little part of me leave. And when I inhale, it's as if breathing is only providing me air and not air for me to survive and live. It just feels like I was hovering over my body and I had to look down at me. I didn't feel alive. I just felt like my body was a machine and every organ and bodily function was there because that's how my machine works to keep going. But I was not alive.

Kate didn't bother with words, she just hugged me. I liquify in her arms and just let it all go. She squeezes me tighter. I feel Simon's beefy-man arms over the both of us and we stay there for what seems like hours. I was so beat I fell asleep in their arms. I was half-awake to feel Kate and Simon carry me into bed and tuck me in.

"Get me a wet washcloth, warm water." Kate whispered to Simon. My eyes were closed and I was barely asleep but I could feel Kate stroking my head in a rhythmic pattern, the strokes not too long, but not too hard either. The perfect in between. Then, I felt Kate pat my face gently with the washcloth, cleaning my face from all my salty tears. I fell fully asleep after that.

I woke up hours later with Kate and Simon sleeping beside me, entangled in their arms. I sat up slightly so their arms wouldn't move from its position. I eyed my phone from across the room, I wanted to hear it ring. Better yet, I wanted to go over there, dial Sam, and just talk. 

I don't know why I say the things I say. Half the time I don't mean it. The feeling of losing control is the feeling of hopelessness. I can tell when my impulsiveness is slipping, but there's not much I can do after it's out. I don't know how I've managed to damage the one thing I truly cared about. I keep replaying the image of Sam leaving me and how broken she looked. And I did that to her. I broke her. It's my fault. It's always my fault.