A million thoughts rushed through her head. Thoughts she hadn’t had in a long time. “Part of it may have been the shock. It didn’t really hurt though. She swings like a girl,” she said with a hollow laugh. She turned to look at him with a far more serious look on her face. “Did your father drink too much?” He shook his head with a somber look creeping onto his face. “Well mine does. I promised myself a long time ago I wasn’t ever going to hit someone I cared about, no matter how mad I was.” She left it at that and went to pay for her coffee.
They left the store and headed back. Mr. Loomis broke the silence.
“I know my fifteen minutes are up, but . . .” He paused for a moment.
“Go ahead,” she said.
“Just talk to her. It’s not my place to ask you to forgive her. That’s between you and her. But believe me when I say that if she hurt you, it was a very bad mistake that she made while trying to help me. She worships the ground you walk on, and I can tell how much she’s hurting from the sound of her voice. And believe me that even if you decide to end whatever relationship you and my daughter have, you don’t want to do it like this.”
They walked most of the way back in silence. When they reached the parking lot, Mr. Loomis turned to head for his limousine. As the chauffeur got out to open the door, Heather felt she needed to say something.
“You were right about one thing. This is my decision to make, but I won’t make idly.” She paused. “And thank you.”
“For what?” he asked quizzically.
“For letting me know how you felt, face to face.”
He smiled at her. He had developed quite a bit of respect for the young woman in a short period of time. He was beginning to understand what his daughter saw in Heather. “Thank you for listening. It was honor to finally meet you, Ms. Englund.” He climbed back into the limo, and soon after he was gone.
—————– —-
That evening . . .
—————– —-
Heather had tried taking a shower, which had proven exceedingly difficult with injured hands. She had wrapped plastic bags around them and secured them with rubber bands, but the simple act of shampooing had been painful and tedious. She was sitting on her bed in an old, comfortable terrycloth robe when she heard rustling outside the door. ‘Please just be Alice,’ she thought to herself. She began to think she should have picked up the room a bit after her tirade, but she had found herself lacking the energy. All she had done for almost nine hours was drink coffee, listen to her old Johnny Cash CDs and try and get her feelings sorted in her own mind. As the doorknob began rattling, she stuck her hands under the covers.
Strangely, the person who wound up coming through the door a few moments later was Liz. The tall girl had an almost nervous look on her normally confident face. She closed the door behind her, picked up Heather’s desk-chair from where the dark-haired girl had knocked it and took a seat. She was measuring up Heather’s face, or as much of it as she could discern through the tangled mess of wet, black hair. Heather’s skin seemed particularly pale and her eyes were still bloodshot from holding back the tears. Then Liz surveyed the ransacked room and began to get an idea of what had probably gone on.
“So,” Liz asked with an even voice, “how have you been?”
“I’ve been better,” Heather returned.
Liz leaned closer and started wringing her hands together. “I’m serious Heather. Are you okay? I haven’t talked to you since Thursday and . . .”
“Of course I’m not fucking okay,” Heather said bitterly, her voice low and edgy. “I was supposed to be coming back from a vacation to paradise tonight. Instead, I’ve spent the last three days hating someone I’m supposed to love, hating myself for bailing out on you guys and hating that I still don’t know what to do.”
Liz looked her over again. “I can’t blame you for bailing. Yeah, we were all scared, but mostly because we were afraid something bad had happened after you left that night. No one’s mad at you. They all wanted to come see if you were okay, but I kinda drew the short straw. We didn’t want people coming over here and having you coming out swinging.” Liz had meant that to be a joke, but Heather wasn’t laughing. Liz sighed. “Heather I’m sorry things went the way they did, and I know how mad you can get. That’s why I’m here, because I’ve seen what happens when you turn that anger inward and don’t give it anywhere to go. And trashing your own dorm doesn’t qualify as a productive release of energy. You need to talk, and I want you to talk to me. I don’t want to see you go back to being angry with everyone for another four years.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Heather muttered, regaining some of her composure. But Liz was right. Heather needed to talk, and more importantly, she wanted to talk.
Liz sensed her friend’s hesitation. “Don’t worry. It’s just you and me. Alice is going to be crashing at my place, and everyone else promised to stay gone until you’re wanting to see them.” Liz patted Heather’s leg as she looked around. She saw all the clothes Laurie had bought for Heather piled in boxes, and she saw the displaced furniture. Then she saw the hole in the bathroom door. She got up quickly to examine it and noticed blood around the edge of the hole. Heather was flushed with embarrassment. Liz moved the chair closer to the side of Heather’s bed.
“Let’s see ’em,” she said.
Heather almost meekly pulled her injured hands out from under the covers. They were still nicely wrapped, so they didn’t look too bad. But Liz wanted a closer look. She gently grabbed one of Heather’s wrists and started to undo the bandage. “So is this how you planned on handling this situation? Beating the crap out of your room and throwing away everything she ever gave you?”
“That was my plan, yes,” Heather whispered, not wanting to give any indication that she was having second thoughts. At least not yet.
Liz finally got to the point where she could see the damage. Heather’s knuckles were swollen, bruised and missing some skin. Liz had seen worse, but that didn’t make Heather’s hands look any prettier. Liz started wrapping that hand back up. “I’m glad that a living human being didn’t get in your way. Otherwise, we might be having this conversation in the visiting room at the city jail.” Liz finished re-wrapping the gauze. “Heather, there’s no other way to do this except come out and say it. I’m sorry for what happened. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that, and I think it speaks wonders of you that you didn’t hit Laurie when you had the chance. But I think it also says that you still loved her. It took everything that me and Alice and Jenny and Mary could do to make her promise NOT to come over here and throw herself at your feet until I’d had a chance to try and calm you down. She . . .”
“Stop,” interrupted Heather. Liz open started to open her mouth again, but Heather cut her off. “I’m serious . . . stop.” She looked away, trying to maintain her composure. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re going to say? Trust me, I’ve thought of everything anyone could possibly say in her favor and against her.”
“But I think we’ve been friends long enough that I’ve earned the right to speak my peace,” Liz said forcefully. Heather actually backed down for a moment. “She hates what she did. She hates having hurt you and she misses you.”
Heather stared at her hands. “You think I don’t miss her? God, this morning I woke up cuddling a pillow. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t her and why she wasn’t there. I started to throw everything of hers away, and then I realized that there was nothing left. I want her here, but thinking about her makes me so fucking mad at the same time.” She placed her head in her hands. “I want to forgive her and have everything just go back to the way it was. But then I think that if I do that . . . it’s like letting her win somehow.”
“Trust me,” Liz said, “she hasn’t won anything, no matter what you decide. I know you guys have argued before and that she’s gotten upset, but it couldn’t be anything like this. She’s been a ball of energy since I first met her, but now she just seems . . . hollow.” Liz gripped Heather’s arm again as she stood up. “Just talk to her. If it’s going to end, don’t let it end like this.”
‘Funny,’ thought Heather. ‘That’s what Mr. Loomis said too.’
“So, is there anything you want me to tell her?” Liz asked.
Heather looked at her. “Tell her I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I’ll meet her over by the pond next to the library. Maybe around noon?” she asked, mostly to herself. Just saying that out loud made her feel like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “We’ll finish this tomorrow.”