All's Fair in Love and Pain

Saturday night, March 20, 2009
7:38 pm

I listened to the sound of the crickets that sang wildly around the pond outside. They played a duet with the wind that rattled across the room, sending a chilling breeze through my body. There were no lights on in my room, but it was still awake from the pink and orange glow of dusk.
As I lay on the bed facing the white ceiling I drifted in and out of sleep. My eyelids wanted to close but my mind wouldn’t rest. I knew that in two hours Cody and I would have to leave for the party, but I was in no hurry. My dress was surely to get wrinkled, the lovely gold tank dress, just casual enough to wear to a nice New Canaan party, but sexy enough to be the best outfit there. My hair was down and curled, hanging loosely just below my shoulders. I spread the dress out so it wouldn’t wrinkle too much then rested my palms atop my empty stomach. I felt a pulse run though them. They felt warm and heavy as they rested on me.
My mind forced me to get up and move to the mirror so I could analyze myself before the party. If one thing wasn’t perfect then there was no leaving this house. There was no resting while imperfection hung in the air.
My brown eyes wavered from the top of my body to the bottom. My shoulders popped out of the tank dress, looking nicely sculpted but too wide as always. My chest was A-cupped but perky, however it didn’t do well with supporting strapless dresses if I ever wore them. Two color bones made a distinctive mark below my neck, outlining the skin. My stomach was flat, but not concave like it should be. My legs were small sticks coming out from the short hemline of the dress, bare and the color of caramel, but they were too short, as were my arms, even though they were tiny, it was like small stumps covered in black jewelry on the wrists.
I was too short. Standing at 5’4 and 95 pounds I felt like a smurf. Only I wasn’t blue. I didn’t find it fair at all that I got my father’s height and not my mother’s. She used to model when she was young and she stood at 6’1. She told me I was going to model just like her, but after she died I had no desire to. That’s probably a good thing too, since I’m too short anyways.
As I stood in front of the mirror I took off all my bracelets and ran my fingers across the bruises and cuts. I gripped my wrist the way my father always did, putting my fingers over the blue and black smudges where his lay before. I felt ruff lines over them from my razor. My arms were still soar from his grasping, and I could feel his anger in the pulse that ran through my veins.
Someone knocked on the door. I quickly put the bracelets back on and told them to come in.
It was Lucy. “Miss Atkins, someone is at the door for you. He said his name was Sam Walters?” she raised an eyebrow wondering if I knew the man.
I hesitated before answering. “I’m about to leave, Lucy. Can you tell him I’m busy?”
“Yes, Miss Atkins.” She left the room, closing the door behind her. My heart pounded against my chest like something wanted to escape.
So he had come after all. Same Walters, the lawyer, the lawyer who could fix things, had come to save the day. Well it was too late. Day had turned to night and in night the sun goes away.

“You ready to go?” Cody stood by my door dressed in dark jeans, a white button-up, and a black leather jacket over his shoulder. He reminded me of an updated John Travolta, without the greasy hair. His was wavy, like he came from the beach.
“Just a second,” I was sitting at my vanity combing my hair. There was one piece on top that wouldn’t stay down. Once I tamed it I stood up, grabbed my black clutch, and walked out the door.
Cody ruffled my hair as we got in the car-he was driving due to my heels-and I stuck my tongue out at him and quickly fixed it.
“I spent an hour on my hair and you mess it up.”
“It looks fine to me.”
I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “and you’re the perfect judge of that.”
He shook his head, laughing, “I don’t understand why you have to spend hours getting ready with the hair and the make up and the cloths and everything else you do. It’s not like you have to be perfect all the time.”
I looked down at my lap, then out the window. The car sped by our gated neighborhood, past manors coated with stone and ivy, presenting yards straight out of Home and Gardens, shielding the messed up people who resided inside their festooned interiors. “There is certain expectations that-”
“Blah, blah, blah, Lexi. It doesn’t matter what people think-”
“Yes it does, to me, at least.”
“It shouldn’t.”
“It does.” I leaned my head against the car window and saw the Cranks outside their house, Mr. Crank was entering the garage probably going to a business dinner, and Mrs. Crank was pretending to water the garden, really thinking of how late her husband would be out, and with whom he would be getting a drink with after the dinner.
Cody looked at me once then returned to the road, not saying anything. He was silent for the rest of the ride, even though there was more he wanted to say. I sunk deeper into the patent leather seat and tried to think of something nice. All I could think of was the growling in my stomach.
There was little to say about the party other than there was a live band that played decent music. The house was just like every other house in this town: big with a pool and full of antiques and useless crap, expensive crap, but useless crap.
For most of the party I just hang inside with my group. Sage was dancing with Ian and Sabrina was dancing with Collin, while I stood by the stairs watching people. Not in a creepy way, but I liked to observe what’s going on around me. People acted strange at parties. Cody was dancing with some girl from school, Rebecca. She was totally flirting with him but he wouldn’t know it if she bit him on his tongue. I choked back a laugh as she tried to move closer to him. He just pushed her away without even realizing what he was doing. Cody’s had previous girlfriends, but they never lasted for more than a month. He always broke them of before it got serious. He was never one to admit being a coward, but he was one when it came to dating. Maybe he feared he’d become like Dad.
Someone tapped my shoulder and I wiped my head around to find Alec staring at me his shining blue eyes.
“You’re not dancing,” he declared.
It took me a minute to regroup myself. His presence somehow dumbfounded me. I’m sure it was his eyes. “No, I’m not.”
He smiled with his mouth closed, “how come?”
“Not a dancer,” I breathed, not blinking.
“Neither am I. It seems to be the same move over and over again for three and a half minutes. It can get tedious.” He started walking outside and I walked with him.
“I agree. Slow dancing I can do, but I’d rather just watch.” The sky was almost completely dark, just a faint tint of midnight blue shaded the space around us. There was a luminous glow coming from the tiny lights that bordered the pool and walkways, giving off a warm yellow light to the trees and floated atop the bright blue water. No one was in the pool anymore. They must have gone inside. The music carried out here too, though it was softer and less audible.
Alec seemed to be thinking, keeping something to himself. I saw through the corner of my eye a curve of his lip, like a frown. Something was bothering him.
“I hate parties,” he stated.
I giggled softly. “Me too.”
“Then why do you go?” he looked at me again.
I shrugged, keeping my voice casual. “To get out of the house. Take a break.”
This got him quiet again. I could hear crickets from the forest behind the pool.
“My dad thinks if I go to parties I’ll do drugs or something,” he half-smiled.
“That’s silly. You’re not that kind of person.”
“I know. But he’s…dealt with a lot of cases that involve teens and drugs and sex, and stuff. So it’s hard for him to trust me.” There was no smile in his voice when he said this.
I glanced at him. He was thinking again. “What does he do?”
“He’s a lawyer.”
My mind froze. Something about this wasn’t right. Alec sensed my hesitation to reply and stopped walking.
He turned to me with a stern but worried face. “My father’s Sam Walters.”
I swallowed but my mouth was dry. How could I not have known this? Alec Walters, Sam Walters was his father. Why did I not see this before? I knew Alec’s last name, but I didn’t conclude that…oh my god, does he know?
“Do you know my father?” he looked at me with his eyes, I couldn’t look away.
Yes. Your father is trying to save my brother and I from my abusive dad. “No.” I walked away before he could stop me.