Who Can Really Blame You?

I wake up when I’m being yanked to my feet.

“You’re such a bitch!” Mitchell growls, and I blink quickly, trying to wake up and figure out what I’ve done.

“How are you going to explain this?” Mitchell demands, shoving me from his grip like I burnt him, disgusted.

“What did I—” I start, but then I look down and see the beer bottles, and I groan. I fell asleep. “I’m sorry,” I say.

“You’re a lazy fuck,” he mutters, “Now how are you going to prove that you love me?”

“I— I don’t know,” I say when he makes it obvious I’m supposed to answer.

“Figure something out,” he snaps, “I have class in half an hour. When I get home at 1:30 you better have something to make this up to me.”

“But,” I start, and freeze at his glare.

“What?” he asks, “Too busy for me?”

“I… I have classes,” I squeak.

“I don’t give a shit,” he snaps, moving to the door, and opens it.

“Mitchell,” I say, my voice pleading. He ignores me.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, “You look like shit. Go wipe your face, pig.”

The door slams and I feel my eyes well up with tears. I reach down to my feet, grab the empty bottles, and throw them away, tears dripping off of my nose.

Then I go to the bathroom, clean my face off, and curse when my nose starts to bleed again. I sink to the floor of the bathroom, squeezing my nose tight, willing god to help me out this once.

It bleeds for thirty more minutes.

By the time I have everything in the car, it’s nearly noon, so I rush home to put all of Mitchell’s things away, and take a shower before he gets home, and make us lunch.

I was glad that Mitchell’s roommate wasn’t in when I got there to take his things back to my apartment. I don’t know if this is what I want, but part of my mind has convinced me that this is what he needs, security, and then he’ll stop, then we can be how we were. The rest of my brain scoffs at this the entire time I’m folding his clothes and putting them away. The rest of my brain laughs at me while I’m putting his computer on my desk. It finally just shuts up while I put our food in the oven, and I have some peace while I shower.

I’m still waiting for Mitchell to get home nervously at 2:00, and by the time 3:00 rolls around, I wonder if something’s gone wrong. Four o’clock has me convinced that he’s been in a car accident. When he finally stumbles in at 6 o’clock, I’m just glad he’s alive, and I can forgive him for being five hours late.

The door swings open, and I stand.

“What?” he asks, passing me.

“Where have you been?” I ask him, following him hesitantly.

“Out,” he says, staring at me.

“You said you’d be home at 1:30,” I say, biting my lip.

“I had things to do,” he snaps, turning back to the kitchen. He takes one look at what I made, before he picks it up, and dumps it into the trashcan.

“I worked hard on that,” I say quietly, glaring into the trashcan.

He ignores me, and grabs a beer from the fridge.

“I don’t get it!” I say, blocking him from leaving the kitchen.

“Surprise, surprise,” he drawls. I feel my face go slightly red.

“You wanted me to try to make it up to you, and I do, and you don’t even notice,” I say.

“What does that tell you?” he asks and I bite my lip. “Try harder,” he says slowly.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask timidly as he shoves past me into the living room.

“I figured you might finally put out, but whatever,” he says evenly, falling into the couch.

“You know I’m not ready for that,” I say my eyes water a bit.

He remains silent.

I can’t sleep now, and I know that it’s supposed to hurt, but I have this sick feeling that Mitchell tried to make it hurt a little worse than it really should have. I can’t stop shivering and the throbbing pain in my lower back is keeping me awake. Mitchell is sleeping just fine next to me, and I would get up and leave, go anywhere, but I’m afraid he’ll wake up as I’m moving and get angry. I stay in bed with my boyfriend, who scares me more than anyone else ever has.

“Where have you been?!” Talia demands when I finally come back to school, the next week, my bruised nose finally back to normal, and my ass in a lot less pain.

“I got sick,” I lie. She gives me a look.

“You’re not skipping, right?” she asks, “You have a real reason not to come?”

“Of course, Tally,” I say, “I really wasn’t feeling good.”

“Why didn’t you call?” she asks, and I cringe at the hurt in her voice. I stare at the busses pulling out of the loop.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, “I was asleep most of the time, and Mitchell was watching me.”

“Oh,” she says, and we fall silent, “I still wish you would have called.”

“Me too,” I reply, and she throws an arm around me happily.

“I’m here!” Hadley exclaims, “I had to jump off of my bus when I got the text that you could take us home!”

I turn on the picnic table I’m sitting on and send her a smile.

“Where have you been?!” she exclaims, and Talia busts out laughing. I manage a smile.

“Baby,” Mitchell mutters, wrapping his arms around me, and pressing me into the counter from behind.

“Hmm?” I ask, pausing in pouring myself a glass of water.

“I missed you today,” he tells me. I smile a little bit.

“Yeah?” I ask him, and I feel him nod, his chin resting on my shoulder. I smile a little bit.

“Yeah,” he says, “I was thinking that we could head into the bedroom and…”

I tense.

“I don’t really feel like it,” I say quietly, and I wait a few moments before he lets go of me, and stomps into the living room. I stay in the kitchen until I hear him go to the bathroom, and then I slide on my shoes and leave.

I sit on the ground, pulling at the grass, and talking quietly to my dad.

“I just… I feel so… worthless now, you know?” I ask him, knowing he doesn’t and wouldn’t even if he were still alive.

A pang of guilt hits me in the chest at my selfishness. “It’s different though.” I mutter, pulling my knees to my chest.

“When you lost it, you were gaining something, really. I just… gave something up,” I mutter, my forehead resting on my knees. A few tears, that I hadn’t even noticed forming, spill over and sink into my jeans. I feel the cool water on my legs, and it makes me aware of the hot sun on my back. “I don’t know what to do,” I admit, and take a deep breath. We stay silent for a long time. “I love you dad,” I tell him.