Trashed and Scattered

It was early October in Huntington Beach, California. The sun had nestled itself in bed, leaving the moon to wreak its havoc unto the unsuspecting world below. As the stars glistened in their nightly parade, a thin girl pushed herself through the chipped-paint clustered window frame. With a heave and a groan, she flopped onto the roof of the main floor kitchen. Pausing with her hands resting atop the still air, she waited for disruption. When nothing came, she sighed with relief and crawled quietly to the tree that ran next to her bedroom and up into the sky.
A distinct and crashing screech caused her bones to run brittle in fear. She changed her route, averting the branches of the nearby oak for now and, instead, peering over the adjacent edge and into the hell that was her life.
The frail root-stained blonde thrashed about, despite the man trying his best to constrain her. She was shouting with a fury, like a raving lunatic.
The young girl moved away, crawling on all fours back to the tree. The simple semblance of escape in her existence, a portal to a kinder and quieter plane. As she stepped down onto a sturdy and thick branch, she let her grip go. Balancing like a cat on a fence, she shimmied her way to the trunk and wrapped her thin arms around it. As she pivoted around the bark, she was careful not to slip. It had happened only once before and she’d snapped her wrist in half.
It wasn’t the fall that had truly bashed her in; it was the consequences of having to make the trip to the hospital. She’d considered confessing to the staff nurse about the horror it was to return home…But she knew it would only bring more trouble. So, she stomached it and took what she had been taught that she deserved.
With a steady step, she tight-roped her way onto a black roof. It didn’t matter how many times she’d made the journey in the past, she always felt a strange swarm of relief wash over her young body once she made it across safely. Feeling there was no longer a need to crawl like a dog, she casually strolled to the freshly painted window. She wrapped her knuckles twice upon the glass.
A familiar face emerged from the black pin-striped curtains and it smiled, immediately unlatching the golden lock and sliding the pane up into itself.
“Well hello there,” he chimed, stepping to the side so that his young friend could slide in passed the curtains.
“She’s at it again,” she told him simply.
The boy reached out to brush the light brown hair from her face, scrunching his nose into wrinkles as he spotted the newly forming bruise. The hatred swelled up inside of him but he knew better than to breathe a word of it out loud. He’d been sworn to secrecy, and secrecy he’d maintained.
“Should I go get ice?” he asked her gently, letting the strands of her shiny hair fall back over her brow.
She shook her head, “It won’t help. It never does.”
He thought about telling his mom once. A part of him was sure that she already knew, given that he could hear the incessant screaming from the neighboring house over the nighttime broadcast of the news. If he could hear it, he was sure his mother could hear it. But no one ever mentioned it; not to him and not to her.
“Can I just stay with you?” she asked with pleading tucked neatly into her light eyes. “I don’t want to go home.”
He nodded, smiling reassuringly at his fragile friend, “Always!”
She pulled the window closed, daring to glance back at the home she’d abandoned for the night. With a heavy hearted sigh, she pulled the curtains closed.
“My mom made meatloaf for dinner,” he told her cheerfully. “I could probably go scrounge some up for you if you’re hungry.”
The grumbling in her thin stomach was all the confirmation he needed. Once she was settled comfortably in his room, he flew down the hallway and down the stairs, catching every second step on his descent to find sustenance.
“Where’re you off to in such a hurry?” his dad asked whimsically.
“I’m starving to death,” he grinned.
His father laughed, “Right. Carry on.”
Headed straight for the refrigerator, he set out to make a plate for his bruised buddy. He buttered a few slices of bread, fresh from the bakery, and stuffed a couple of cans of soda into his sweater pockets. He tapped his thumbs against his thigh as he waited for the spinning plate to warm the food. It was only eight o’clock but it felt somehow like morning already.
She had that effect on him, like his life would flash by at the mere sight of her. He wasn’t sure if it was concern aging him or love keeping him young. He had already spent six years fighting off her cooties, and at ten years old they’d forged themselves into the promise land of best friend status.
The microwave beeped and he immediately snatched the plate back up, darting quickly the way he’d come. This time without any disturbances.
He kicked his bedroom door closed behind him, a Pantera poster crinkling up and out from the momentum. The thumbtack holding it against the white wood had fallen off and he’d been unable to track it down. He was sure he’d discover it in his heel one morning while he zombied around his room in preparation for the day. But it had been two months and it still hadn’t surfaced. Nor had he felt so inclined to replace it.
“Here,” he chimed proudly, thrusting the overflowing plate toward her.
He watched as she scarfed it down greedily, pausing hardly to breathe. He climbed onto his mattress next to her, turning his focus back to the movie he’d been watching before she’d interrupted.
Her eyes followed her friend’s gaze, chewing at a piece of the world’s best meatloaf. When her eyes found the screen, they rolled into the back of her head.
“Why do you like this movie so much?” she asked between chews.
He glanced over at her, watching as the beef dried out her tongue. She didn’t complain. She didn’t need to. He instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled out both cans, extending the left to her.
“I want the right one,” she argued with a cheeky smile.
“They’re the same, Lexi,” he informed her flatly.
She shook her head, swallowing down the food between her teeth, “Then what does it matter to you! Hand it over.”
They laughed, she ultimately proved to be the victory. She often got her way with him, which she was more appreciative of than she ever let on. He was always telling her that she was too open with her feelings, and that someone might take advantage of them if she wasn’t careful. But she didn’t want to be a bottle, she wanted to be a fountain.
Except when it came down to the blaring issue at hand. That was the one and only topic that she’d sealed her lips tight about. You’d never catch a whisper of her worries, which was maybe why no one ever thought to ask.
“So, spill, Wiley,” she coaxed, gesturing to the small black television with her can of soda. “What’s with the movie?”
He shrugged, “It’s just good.”
“It’s scary,” she told him sternly, biting off another hunk of meat as their eyes squared off in a dance for dominance.
“Life is scary,” he rebutted.
She groaned playfully, shaking her head as she mulled the loaf around in her mouth, “You’re weird.”
“I’m weird?” he gasped. “You’re weird.”
“Yeah,” she giggled.
With fondness, he bounded over to the VCR and pulled the tape from its teeth. He stuffed it back into the case, vowing to finish it the next day after school. It was his favourite movie and it irritated him to no end that his best friend couldn’t love it like he did.
“You don’t have to turn it off, you know,” she called from the bed, cleansing her pallet with Coca Cola.
“You’ll never stop whining if I don’t,” he grinned over his shoulder.
He slid another movie into the slot before returning to her side. As the title scrawled its way across the screen, she lit up.
“Really?” she beamed excitedly. “You hate this movie!”
“You like it,” he offered simply.
He’d picked it up at a garage sale his friend’s parents were having a few months back. It was still hot then, he remembered. It must have been July. July was hot in Huntington and he’d been on his way to the city beach when he stopped to drag his buddy along with him. They’d had a whole row of movies they’d been looking to get rid of.
“I’ll be ready in five,” his hazel-eyed friend had assured him. “Don’t steal anything, my mom will be mad.”
He laughed, “Why would I steal anything?”
Instead of shoplifting from a yard sale, he perused the selection. It was mostly junk that he’d become familiar with over the years of playing at their house. But when he came across the movie, he knew he had to have it.
He’d paid exactly two dollars for it. It was supposed to be his ice cream money but he figured it was probably better spent on his best friend.
They watched the movie quietly. She leaned a forkful of meatloaf toward him and he happily ate it up. He loved the juvenile smile that she’d adorn when she got her way, even about silly things like getting him to take what she was offering.
Not wanted? Oh dear, what an awkward situation. I had hoped it was merely due to some oversight…Well in that event, I’d best be on my way…
“I love her,” she mumbled quietly but contently.
He knew that. She said it every time they watched it together—which was more often than he’d liked. But his life was arguably quite easy…The only difficulty within it were problems he’d created for himself. Even those were miniscule compared to the life his Lexi lived. He couldn’t imagine the house of horrors that she called home. It was enough to break his beating heart.
He glanced over at her as she adorably chewed at a carrot. She took tiny bites like he imagined a toddler would, not that he really knew much about toddlers.
Her eyes lit up as she recited the lines she’d memorized so effortlessly years before. She’d absolutely seen this movie too many times, there was no doubt about it.
“To show I bear no ill will, I, too, will bestow a gift on the child. Listen well, all of you; the princess shall, indeed, grow in grace and beauty. Beloved by all who knew her…But! Before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a sewing needle…” her eyes met his as she burst, “and die!”
She even added the maniacal laugh for extra effect. As she erupted into a quiet fit of giggles, he couldn’t help but laugh too.
“Why do you like this movie so much?” he asked, prodding her arm with his elbow.
Once she had calmed herself enough to speak coherently, she shrugged, “I don’t know. I just do.”
“Oh, okay,” he replied sarcastically.
She smiled, “She sleeps through her life, Wiley. And then someone saves her without being asked. She’s not your usual damsel in distress. She doesn’t even know she needs help! It’s interesting.”
Her dark brows rose and fell as she spoke excitedly about her favourite film. She’d seen it for the first time, that she could remember, with her father. He was more committed to caring for her back then. They’d hide away in his office and watch Disney movies until she was told it was time for bed.
“But Aurora isn’t your favourite character,” he noted suspiciously. “Maleficent is.”
She challenged him, “So?”
“I don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to,” she giggled, changing the dynamic by handing the half-demolished dinner plate to her friend.
He looked from the plate to her and back down again, “What do you want me to do with that?”
“Eat it,” she smiled. “Duh.”
He shrugged, taking the plate from her and finishing off what she’d started. As she nestled her head against his shoulder, she felt her eyes begin to flutter.
“Hey, Lexi,” he whispered to her. “Happy birthday.”
She smiled wrapping her hands around his loose arm, “Thanks, Wiley.”
In the safety of his dark bedroom, leaned up against his body as it moved with each lift of the fork, Lexi fell asleep.

Notes

Because who doesn't want to juggle three stories at once?

xx