Thicker Than Paper

Caught

Embarrassing and troubling. Never ends well. Ill and hot. I hate it. Almost more than the consequences. I blow a shaky breath out and kneel on the shore. I set the paper crane in the dark water. What would happen if someone caught me doing this right now? How would that work? Would I get in major trouble? Would they ask me why? I don't know why. I swoosh the water with my hand, and my action floats away.

~~~

I swallow my medication, tossing it back with water. I watch my mom struggle to reach the top shelf. My mom isn't too much shorter than I. Only by five inches or so. But we differ in other physical characteristics. She has light brown hair, mine dark brown. Hazel eyes verses my brown. I take after my fathers Mexican heritage on the outside. She's still in her robe, the air chilly. My mom quit her job when I was five to spend more time with my sister and me. She hasn't worked since.

"Phoenix? Can you get my coffee filters from the top shelf?" She points to the white box.

 I nod, setting down my granola bar. I reach up and grab the box, before setting it down on the counter, next to her coffee machine. When I look back at her, I know somethings wrong. My stomach drops. Her gaze cuts down to my side-the side with the burn and cuts-before snapping back to my face. I don't know why, but I look down too. Almost as if solidifying her thoughts.

"Phoenix, what is that?" I choke on my words, "Phoenix, did you do that to yourself?"

Again, words bundle together in my throat, not reaching my mouth. I don't know why I don't have anything to say. Why I don't have a lie. I feel my chest tighten. I finally realize her tone. Angry. She sounded so angry. This whole time I thought she would be so sad. But she's mad. It's almost worse. She's angry. Mad. Sad. Disappointed. 

"Phoenix! Why would you do that to yourself? Have you not been taking your meds?" She doesn't give me time to answer before continuing. I don't know what I would have said anyway, "Why?"

I shake my head. I don't know why. I don't know what to say. My chest hurts as I try and suck in air. I feel stuck. I don't know what to say or do. I just don't know.

She shakes her head and my heart tears. "Just go to school," She says, "Don't forget your granola bar." Before turning away. She's pissed. 

I want to say something. Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I wish I didn't hide this from her. Tell her she's done everything right, and it's me. I'm the problem. Not her, not her parenting. Not her lack of involvement. I turn and walk out the door. Don't grab my granola bar. Don't grab my backpack. Only my phone, keys and wallet. I get out as fast as I can. When I walk out the door, my throat clears up. I still don't make a sound.

~~~

It smells like dirt and shit. And the bug's songs echo in my ears. At first, it's annoying, but I bet when I leave I'll long for it. It's bright. Like, really fucking bright. With my head already filled with dull pain, the sun isn't helping my case. But I don't move. Just squint my eyes to block most of the light out. This isn't my normal spot on the lakes shore, but I just pulled up and walked. The shore is down a little slope, mostly covered with grasses and trees and bunny poop. I found the clearest spot near my car and sat.

I don't know why I like this lake. It's not exactly near my house, and there's no park around. Just a greenway that barely ever gets used. I 'found' it last year, when my mom forced me out of the house and I didn't want to talk to anyone. or deal with anyone. Now that I think about it, its kind of like that now. But back then I was in a deep pit with depression. Am I now?

I think about when my mom came to me, telling me I needed help. We were in the car, coming back from the store. She turned down the radio and interrupted the silence, "Phoenix, I think you need some help. I've been noticing things, like how you react to friends wanting to hang out. Or something. And they remind me so much of how I reacted when I was really depressed." She cuts to look at me, then back at the road, "I think you should see a therapist. To help you. Because how you feel now, I know it's not very good. If you talk to someone it might help you understand how you feel and how to deal with it."

I know she wanted me to say something, but I had no idea what to. It was all true. So I nodded. If the car had an awkward silence before she said what she said, I had no way of describing it afterward. Neither of us talked the whole way home. Neither of us could comprehend what to say. Everything we both could have said was left unsaid.

After that came the therapy sessions, psychiatrists, nurse practitioners, anti-depressants that didn't work, missed school and overall lack of normalcy. I wasn't able to hide from it anymore. It had a name. It had a face. It had its symptoms and side-effects. I couldn't pass it off as hormones or lack of sleep. I couldn't say I had a little bit of my old life the same. It changed everything.

I sigh, rubbing my hands together. What was I doing here? I need to go to school. My mother would get a call from the school saying I had an unexcused absence. She would only worry more. I contemplate calling the school myself, pretending to be my dad. God knows my dad has never talked to the school on my behalf.

What would he say, when he finds out. A little part of me doubts my mom will ever fully explain everything that's going on; she didn't last year. But she will say something. I lick my lips, knowing the chance of him confronting me are slim.

I hear footsteps behind me. Heavy ones, pounding on the concrete of the greenway. The greenway I thought no one used. I don't turn around. I don't acknowledge the person leaving these loud steps hanging in the air. Rythimicly. They stop. I don't turn around. I watch the sun reflecting off the dirty water of the lake.

"Phoenix?" At that, I turn around.

Dirty blonde hair, slick with sweat. Blue eyes, questioning. Judging. Narrow. Travis Dean. The point guard of Easts varsity basketball team. He's nice, quieter than the rest of the team. Charlie and T.J. play with him on the team. Doesn't cause problems. Often.

My freshman year, his sophomore, there was a rumor he was gay. Some guy said he tried to kiss him at a party or asked him on a date. Something. The boy later said it was all fake. That he and Travis got in a fight, and he spread these rumors to ruin him. I can't think of anything else bad said about him. He's simple.

"Um, Travis?" I'm not sure how he wants me to respond. I'm not sure he really wants me to respond at all.

"I...Shouldn't you be in school? Why are you sitting at the lake?" His hands on his hips, catching his breath. He'd been running.

"Yeah. I guess," I look back at the lake before looking up at him again, "you should be at school too, right?" He's senior. A year older than me.

"On B days I have an off period first period," I nod, "I like run when the weather allows. What about you?"

I let out a breath, and watch the water move with something inside, "I just didn't want to go, if I'm being honest. I'll go, I mean. Just not yet."

He says nothing. I sit there, and he stands, staring at the water. Listening to the bugs, feeling the sun in my arms.

"Well," he breaks the silence between us, "I'll see you around, Phoenix. If you ever come to school." He ends with a laugh.

When I look up at him, I see his smile. It's a good smile. A warm smile. Even with all this shit happening, even with the reason I'm sitting here today, I smile too. I smile too.