Reclaiming the Sand(46)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

I had yelled and yelled for Mom until she finally came in and changed them. I didn’t throw them out the window. Mom said she was proud of me.

I went to school on my birthday wearing my favorite shirt. It was blue and the sleeves covered the backs of my hands. It felt soft when I rubbed it.

I saw Ellie as soon as I walked into the school. I didn’t talk to her. I knew she didn’t want me to. But she smiled at me and I felt happy.

She promised she’d spend my special day with me and I believed her.

Ellie was nice to me in English class and I made her laugh by telling her a funny joke. It felt good.

At the end of the day I checked my watch and started walking home. Ellie said she’d meet me by the bridge. I’d see her in twelve minutes. Seven hundred and twenty seconds.

I could see her standing by the bridge. She looked pretty. Her hair wasn’t colored. It was yellow. I liked it yellow.

“Ellie!” I yelled, waving at her. She didn’t wave back. Her face looked funny.

“There’s our favorite ‘tard!”

Someone grabbed me and held me down. I kicked out my legs, trying to make them let me go but they just held me tighter.

I screamed as they put something on my head. I heard Dania laugh.

“Look at the cute little freak with his cute little birthday hat,” she said and I started to yell at them to leave me alone.

I tried to hit Stu but he moved out of the way.

I kicked gravel at his shoes. I threw my book bag on the ground. I looked at Ellie but she was laughing too.

She said she’d spend my special day with me! She said we’d watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force! She was supposed to eat Mom’s cake!

I started to cry. My insides hurt so much I felt sick.

I tried to run away from them but Stu and Dania grabbed me before I could.

“The birthday boy can’t go without having his cake,” Dania said.

I looked at Ellie. She was still laughing.

Stu put something in my mouth. It tasted horrible. I tried to spit it out. It was stuck in my teeth.

“A shit sandwich for a shitty little ‘tard boy,” Stu yelled in my ear as I wiped my tongue with my hand, trying to get the taste out of my mouth.

I started to gag and then I threw up.

I threw up all over my shoes and on my pants.

“That’s f**king nasty!” Dania said, backing up.

I kept throwing up. I felt so bad.

I was still crying. Why were they always so mean to me?

It was my birthday!

It was my special day!

“You lied!” I screamed at Ellie who had stopped laughing.

Dania and Stu were gone. I don’t know where they went.

Ellie’s face was wet.

“Flynn. I’m sorry,” she said.

“Mom was right! You aren’t my friend. You’re a bitch!”

Ellie’s face looked sad. I didn’t understand. I was sad. Not Ellie. She was mean.

I wiped my mouth and picked up my book bag. I ran away from her.

I hurt so badly I couldn’t breathe.

“I hate you!” I yelled back at her.

“I know,” she heard her say.

19

-Ellie-

It was hard to describe what Flynn and I were becoming to each other. Since that night with him and Murphy we started spending more and more time together. I would go to his house after work and we’d watch television. Sometimes I’d bring food; sometimes he’d make me something to eat.

I was surprised to discover that Flynn Hendrick was an amazing cook.

It was with startling ease that the two of us fell back into old comfortable patterns. But with some very significant differences.

The first being that now there was kissing involved. Lots and lots of kissing.

I was attracted to Flynn. Very attracted. Sure, he was strange and awkward and his manners were worse than mine. But I wasn’t looking for a gentleman. I wasn’t looking for someone who would hold the door open for me or say bless you when I sneezed. That stuff was really unimportant.

Because what Flynn was outweighed that trivial bullshit women think is essential in the men they want in their lives. Flynn was tender. Flynn was kind. Flynn wanted to make me happy.

Flynn forgave without question, even when my reemerging guilt told me I didn’t deserve it. Because the lingering knowledge of my crime hung heavy over me. I couldn’t forget that Flynn had no idea what really happen all those years ago. The night that ruined my life and killed his dog.

It threatened to overshadow everything. The closer we became, the more I wanted to tell him. But I was scared. I didn’t want to lose the way he looked at me. I didn’t want to lose this growing relationship that was becoming the deepest experience of my life.

I was selfish. Was there ever a doubt? I was thinking only of myself. What it would mean to me if Flynn were ever to discover the truth.

I wasn’t being fair. He needed to know. But I just couldn’t tell him. Not now.

We didn’t talk much about high school and the way I had treated him. Part of me wanted to avoid the topic all together. I wish I could go back to pretending I hadn’t been a heinous bitch. For years I had justified my behavior. I had convinced myself that Flynn hadn’t really been my friend. That our relationship hadn’t mattered to me at all. I had forced myself to forget the details. It made it easier for me to accept that I had caused immeasurable damage for no real reason at all.

Flynn would mention things sometimes that reminded me of how good things had been. He brought up the time I had taught him to play the guitar.

I wasn’t a great musician but I had been able to carry a tune. Flynn however, had been horrible. But it had been fun now that I was allowing myself to remember.

“Do you still play the guitar?” Flynn had asked me and it hit me that I hadn’t thought about playing music in years.

Not since I was sixteen. Not since going to juvie.

It was yet another thing I had lost and had made myself forget that I had enjoyed.

So of course the next time I saw Flynn, he handed me a battered guitar case and gave me a shy smile.

“What’s this?” I asked, slowly reaching out to take it.

“Open it,” Flynn grinned and I could only shake my head. I set the case down on his living room floor and bent down to release the clasps. I opened the top and stared down at a very used, but still beautiful, Taylor acoustic guitar.

“Shit, Flynn. This must have cost a fortune. Taylor guitars are expensive,” I exclaimed, hardly able to believe he had done this. He paid attention to absolutely everything. There wasn’t a thing about me that he hadn’t catalogued away and remembered.