Crash

Silence completely consumed the dinner table. All that could be heard were the clinking of silverware and awkward shifting in seats. I sat in my wheelchair, not even bothering to pretend that this whole situation didn’t suck majorly. My mother was sitting across from me, chewing softly. My father looked up and they made eye contact with one another and I wanted to lean over the table and rip her eyes out before she ever looked at my dad again.

“Are you excited for Brown in the fall, Kingston?” My mom asked. Kingston grinned.

“I’m more than excited actually,” Kingston replied. “I get to register for classes soon, it’s going to be awesome.”

I rolled my eyes at my brother’s geeky enthusiasm for learning and then realized I just couldn’t quite take this any longer. How could my father invite her over without consulting me first? And who the hell thought this would ever be anything close to a good idea?

“Excuse me but I need to leave,” I stated and then wheeled my chair backwards. I rolled out of the kitchen and into the hallway and lamely attempted to open the front door. It took me a couple tries to get the door open and behind me, but I was finally rolling down the pathway and into my driveway.

“Peyton!” I heard my mom cry out after me. I took a deep breath and then turned around to look at her. I could honestly say that she looked awful. She had dark circles under her eyes as if she hasn’t slept properly in weeks. But of course she had her hair perfectly done and her outfit had not one wrinkle on it. She was always the one to make sure that even if she wasn’t, she would always make sure she appeared to be put together.

"What do you want?” I asked a little too harshly than I meant to. She fidgeted with her blouse until finally getting the balls to speak up.

“I tried visiting you in the hospital, almost every day,” She said.

“Yes, and I refused to have them let you see me, every day,” I retorted icely.

“Peyton,” She stated while stepping towards me, she kneeled down to look at me but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of making eye contact. She rested her hand on my knee but I just backed up instead. She sighed and let her hand lay limp by her side. “There is nothing in the world that should make you forgive me for what I did to you, and you know that. I didn’t… I was selfish. I only thought of myself. I didnt think of the consequences. It's just, your father was busy all the time at work, and he barely ever speaks to anyone let alone me and-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you really kneeling right in front of me trying to find reasons to justify what you did?” I asked. My mom’s face fell, and she took another deep breath.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, I’m just trying to make you understand,” She replied softly. “I love your father. I always have and will, but, the last six months he’s been gunning for that new job opportunity and he’s been spending more hours at work and I guess at the time I needed attention, to feel important. You and Kingston have your own lives, you never want me in yours and Kingston never really needs me. I met Dr. Barham when I dropped you off at an appointment with Dr. Philander one day. He was moving his stuff out. I don’t know what happened, but we… began seeing one another. When you decided not to have Dr. Philander as your therapist anymore, Benjamin said that he wanted to meet with you. I told him what an asburd idea that was, mainly because you had already claimed that you saw us in the grocery store, which you did. But he insisted that if he acted as if he didn’t even know who I was, then you’d stop believing that I was having an affair. Oh God, I sound so awful.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, you’re really setting a great example,” I muttered.

“Listen Peyton, I deserve everything that happened. I deserve to have your father divorce me, I deserve to have Benjamin leave me after your accident because he couldn’t handle the guilt and stress. I deserve every single thing. But you didn’t and don't deserve to have a mother like me. I always knew I was never going to be a good mother, I’m too... selfish. I told your father that, and at the time he made a joke: ‘Fake it till you make it’. I’ve been trying to fake perfect motherhood ever since Kingston was born. I’m a failure at a mother and a failure at a role model, and you never deserved it. I tried to send you off to therapists because I wanted you to be perfect, perfect enough for me not to have to figure out how to handle you. I’m so awful,” My mother began to cry as I awkwardly sat in front of her. “I’m sorry. I just hope, some day, you’ll be able to forgive me. But just know, that I love you. I know I set a poor example of showing it, but I do. And you mean the world to me. I'm sorry.”

She then stood up, swiped her cheek with her hand, and solemnly walked back into the house. I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to register all that she just said to me and for some reason, I wasn’t surprised by any of it. I knew my mother had issues with being... well, a mother. And I don’t know if I can ever forgive her for what she did to me, but I can’t blame her for putting me in this chair. That was my dumb, rash decision. And it wasn’t completely fueled by her. It was also fueled by-

“Hey.”

Speaking of the devil.

I slowly turned my chair around to see Micah standing in my driveway with his hands deep in his pockets. His hair was disheveled and his dark eyes looked straight at me. My stomach sank and not even one word could form in my mouth as I stared at the boy standing in front of me.

Micah cautiously took a few steps toward me and then kneeled down in front of me, just like my mother was doing only a few moments earlier. He reached forward and stroked my face with his hand, slowly aligning his fingers along my bruises. His eyes began to water and he coughed and tried to blink back tears but it didn’t help because a tear ran down his face anyways.

“I’m so sorry,” He finally said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wh...why didn’t you come see me?” I finally asked. I flinched at how my voice sounded asking that question. I sounded so… vulnerable, just like Micah always made me feel.

Micah reached forward and put his hand on the back of my neck, I let his thumbs stroke back and forth against the side of it because it felt so perfect and as much as I wanted to push him away and scream at him, I’d know that I’ve already tried that multiple times and when has that ever worked?

“The night of your accident, I rushed over to the hospital and I wasn’t allowed to see you because I wasn’t family and you were getting prepped for surgery on your back. I stayed there for almost eight hours, until some hospital janitor let me in your room because he felt sorry for me. You were unconscious, and when I… Peyton when I looked at you, I couldn’t help but think that it was all my fault. It was all my fault.”

I reached forward and placed my hand on Micah’s face and he tried to smile, but failed at it.
“Your mom walked in the room, she told me what happened, how you ran your car into the Giant Sequoia, the one where we had our first argument, our first real conversation. She started crying and told me that she was cheating on your father, and that you did this because she lied to make you seem like you were making it up,” Micah explained. He moved his hand from behind my neck and I wanted to just reach out and grab it and bring it back to where it was. “I couldn’t come back to see you after that. I didn’t deserve to see you after what I did. I sent the flowers to remind you that you were never, ever, far from my mind. But I just… I should have believed you, Peyton. I never should have made you feel as if I didn’t love you enough to believe you. I love you, God I love you, I’m so sorry.”

There was a long pause, but Micah waited, patiently, for me to say something. I finally adjusted in my seat, and spoke up.

“You are such an ass hole,” I remarked. Micah was about to say something back before I reached forward and pulled him towards me. Our lips collided and I could feel Micah’s tears against my cheek. Not removing his lips from mine, Micah reached behind me and slowly lifted me up, holding me and all my weight against him, and we stayed like that, kissing in my driveway while he held me up, in my casted leg, my back brace, my casted arm.

And then I realized that he was always the one that seemed to hold me up. He was always the one that tried to make me know that I wasn’t just some girl who was different, who was crazy.

I remember the night after the football game.

“I’m going to change you, Peyton Oleander.” He had shouted after me.

And he was right. Although I don’t know who the hell I’m going to be in the future or how I'm going to turn out, who I’m going to forgive, or who I’m going to let go, I will always know that there once was a boy named Micah Burroughs, and as much as I always tried to deny it, he was a boy who changed my life.