Just One More Minute

Chapter Eight: Fallen Short of Perfect

After Mom left, Frankie and I went inside his house. He let me in first. He closed the door behind me. I looked at Jakob, who was sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee. He put his mug down with a small clang, and looked over at us through the window-like cut out in the wall. Silence covered us. “You’re soaking wet.” Frankie told me, breaking the ice that now coated my skin. I nodded in response, then looked at my shoes. I swallowed back everything welling inside of me.

Jakob ran over and asked if I was staying the night again. “Of course.” Frankie replied, putting his hands on my arms, trying to console me. Jakob nodded, taking my hand gently and rubbing my knuckles. I nodded again and ran upstairs.

I stayed in Jakob’s room that night, which was a little smaller than Frankie’s. Jakob stayed on the futon with his brother, not even bothered by the fact he had given up his room to his brother’s best friend, but more bothered by the fact I was in pain. More bothered by the fact both he and his brother couldn’t help me right now, and probably wouldn’t. More bothered by the fact I wanted to be alone. I think he understood I wasn’t trustable in lonesome situations, but no one could assume or know but him.

I changed rather slowly in their bathroom, turning on the hot water and relishing in it. My hair was already wet, but was warm now, and the smooth, one layered wet on your skin, instead of in one percent dry ropes. I looked into the mirror in front of me, which wasn’t at its steamy stages yet. And then it hit me.

My hair was gone.

I slowly sank to the floor and let the smallest tears I’ve ever let escape, run wild from my eyes. I curled up in a ball, hugging my knees as close as I could to my body, tucking my head in, and sobbing into my chest, instead of out of it.

Sure, I loved my hair. I really did. But I was hurting from everyone else’s reactions to it. Frankie’s kind words I haven’t heard in years. Jakob’s lack of a response. Mom’s harsh criticism.

And that one hurt the most.

Because I still had to live with that.

I didn’t quite get, nor understand, why the world was so cruel to me. Why that almighty power above me could smite me for doing nothing. Though, inside I knew other people had it much worse, I still wanted to be selfish. I still felt like I was the worse one off. I knew I wouldn’t always be perfect.

Like Frankie said, even Superman had his flaws.

At the thought of him saying that back the first day, I started to feel a little better. A little more... one with the world, if you could call the human and the world “one”.

I gently climbed off of the floor and finished my shower. The first thing I did was look at the clock as I climbed out and the plumbing stopped making its usual shaking noise. It read 11:05. I nodded to no one in particular, and wrapped my arms around my body, both for warmth and protection. Then, something caught my eye.

On top of the hamper was a pile of clothes, neatly folded with a note on top. I walked over and gently picked up the note, immediately leaving a water stain in the shape of my thumb on the yellow paper. The handwriting was neat and well spaced, with a tiny smilie face written at the bottom:

These are Jake’s pajamas. If you don’t feel comfortable in them, like, they’re too big or something, just call. I’m willing to dig out something.

Let me know if you need anything else.

Love, Frank

I couldn’t help but smile at the note. I placed it neatly on the mirror, wiping off the steam with my hand in the process. I stopped when my first handprint was made. I looked at my refection for a minute, seeing it through the blur. I pulled my hand away, not even looking at it. Without really thinking about it, I wrote Find Me in fairly neat writing above the hand with my fingertip. I looked at it, seeing only pieces of a clear reflection of myself in the mirror. I nodded contently, and put on my pajamas without even drying off. I glanced at the clock.

It now read 11:11.

I smiled to myself, not making a wish, and went into Jakob’s room closing the door. I sat on the bed, closed my eyes, and took a breath, holding it for a minute, then letting it out of my system. I open my eyes and stared at the walls.

This went on for a while.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk to Frankie or Jakob. Every once in a while, I could here Jakob making tea downstairs, or a stifled mumble through the wall, but nothing that could lead me to communicate with them. I didn’t do it because I was mad. They were my friends. I couldn’t be mad at them. It was just one of those moods, where you just want to watch people and listen.

Some people call it pensive.

Most people call it mad.

Whatever anyone called it, I didn’t feel complete for the rest of the night. At about eleven thirty, I finally curled up under Jakob’s thick, plaid sheets and comforter and snuggled with his dark red pillow. I closed my eyes, melting in the heat that surrounded me, and relishing in it, even behind my closed eyelids.

And for the first time in a while, I didn’t suffer from any type of sleep deprivation.

+++++++++++++++++++

The next morning, my Mom called. I was asleep when it happened, but when I came down it was one of the first things anyone said, which almost brought my downfall from the greatest I’ve ever felt.

Jakob was making eggs or waffles, or, trying not to burn them, and Frankie was setting the table. I came lightly down the stairs, walking on the balls of my feet, barely letting my striped socks get the chance to touch the ground.

“I see you’re in a good mood.” Frankie told me, smiling. I smiled back, just that little bit. “I’m glad.” He placed the last napkin down on the table. He looked at the phone, sighed, and the turned to me. “Your mother called.” he said, getting a plate from the cabinet for Jakob, in case he actually did succeed at this great deed of his, making breakfast.

“Oh.” I replied.

Frankie put the plate down opposite another, already set spot.

“She wanted to come get you as soon as possible, but I told her you were still asleep, and that you’d call her when you woke up.”

He walked over to a drawer and grabbed a fork and knife.

“Oh.”

He turned to me. “You could sound less pleased.” he smiled at me a little, then saw I wasn’t going to smile back, and went back to his solemn, yet serene look.

“I’m sorry.” I told him.

He turned again, still rummaging. “Don’t be sorry for feeling how you feel.”

I nodded, remaining silent.

“Are you gonna call her now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Might as well get it over with.

He nodded, walking over to the table. “I guess we won’t need this then.” he took the spot he was setting up away from the table. He took the plate and put it back in the cabinet, just as if it hadn’t been moved. He patted Jake’s shoulder, and immediately, Jake flipped the pan of his cooking over and let it slide into the trash, while Frankie had his foot on the step-like lever.

I stepped out into the hallway to make the call. The phone was on a small table in the middle of the hallway, with a big mirror above it. I picked up the phone and looked at myself for a minute. I shook my head at what was to come, and turned towards the main staircase. I dialed the number, already by heart,

Mom picked up after three rings. “Hayley.” she said it more as a statement than a question. Her voice was a little sad, and sounded like it was being pulled downwards. “Did you sleep well?” I nodded aimlessly, only to remember she couldn’t see me.

“Yeah.” I said, remembering my excuse for the other night. “I slept really well, thank you.”

She sighed, but tried to stifle it. It didn’t work. “I have a doctors’ appointment at two.” she paused. “Do you want me to pick you up now or on my way?”

I peeked in at Frankie and Jakob at that point, catching out of the corner of my eye that Jake was on the phone with delivery people from the deli down the street, and Frankie was laughing after he cracked a joke. I played with my lips as I thought. I’d already disturbed too much of their binding time. After all, they never see each other, with Jakob working. And they hadn’t known each other until a year ago.

“Now’s fine.” It was better to let them be.

“Did something,” she gulped. “happen?”

I shook my head, forgetting again. “No. No! I just think I’ve already spent enough time with them for today. I want to give them some space so just to two of them can hang out.”

“Oh,” she said, “Okay.”

We finished just about then, and I went and grabbed my things upstairs: my cellphone, my school bag with books and all, and my tiny black iPod. I smiled at it as I put my earphones in. I played a song and pulled the out on earphone. I went back downstairs.

Frankie and Jake were both at the table now, drinking coffee from matching mugs that said World’s Best Brother on them. I smiled at them a little as I leaned on the doorway. Frankie looked up first.

“I’m gonna go.” I told them. “My mom’s gonna be here soon.”

Frankie nodded and went up to me, embracing me slow enough so I wouldn’t freak out, but fast enough so I wouldn’t think he was being a creep. He pulled away after a minute. “You’re gonna be okay, right?” he asked, holding my shoulders and making eye contact. I took a breath, and nodded into his irises. He smiled a little, hugging me again. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” He kissed the top of my head, and let me go as I nodded. I smiled at him and Jake, and left for the front door.

As I waited outside, a train passed by. It kicked up some wind at me as I sat on the porch. I smiled at it, remembering my dad. At that point, my iPod kicked on a new song that was familiar, but I hadn’t listened to it in a while.

Of course, my dad’s favorite.

I smiled as I listened, letting the music embrace me. I looked back to when I was little, and Dad would sing me this song to get to bed at night. Even as a kid I could never sleep. The only thing that helped me was this song, and his sweet, just in tone voice. And he’d always smiled when I went up to him ,with my teddy bear dragging behind me and a juice box in my sleeve covered hand, asking him to sing it.

Suddenly, a honk echoed from the front of the lawn. I looked up immediately, seeing my Mom in the front seat, dirty blonde curls and all. I swung my bag over my shoulder as she honked again, and ran down the lawn to the car. I got in the front seat and threw my bag in front of me. I looked at Mom, who didn’t even look at me, and put the other earphone in. I turned down the soundtrack to a movie and leaned down in my seat, my knees against the dashboard.

The car ride went in silence.

We showed up at the doctors’ office soon enough. Mom parked the car and sat for a minute, holding her hands on the steering wheel and facing forward. I looked at her a minute. She breathed out and unbuckled her seatbelt, rising out of the car door. I looked after her and sighed, opening my door and climbing out as well. I left my bag behind.

In the waiting room, the chairs were lined up fairly far apart. I sat in one against a wall, below a painting of a bouquet in a vase. I changed the song on my iPod to something soothing to tone it down a bit as I waited for Mom to get her paperwork. She came back with one of those clipboards where you have to fill out personal information if a doctor is new.

I looked around at the room, noticing all of the pamphlets. All of them had to do with birth control and parenting. A few were about birth. I nodded, kind of guessing it was that kind of doctor. I looked over at the coffee table in front of me, which was decorated with magazines. There were two issues of People, three issues of some obstetricians’ manual, a communal coloring book for kids, and an issue of this week’s National Enquirer. What shocked me the most was the fact that there was also an issue of Seventeen.

Figures.

Then, something caught my eye. I turned to look at Mom, filling out her papers. She was already on the second page, which was asking about pregnancy. It wasn’t a rather big deal, until I looked over at the pregnancy number. My eyes bulged.

It should have read one.

Instead it read three.

My mouth dropped a little. I looked at the floor, wondering about the last two. What had happened? Was it before me? I looked over at the sheet, which was now almost done. It didn’t say anywhere anything about dates of pregnancies, but it did say something about the number of births. Under that, she put a small line, for one.

I sighed, now understanding what happened. I gulped back a little, thinking more about it. Then suddenly, I felt it. A strange pull at my heart. At my mind, and my soul. My mind stopped churning, only for a minute.

Now, I could suddenly see why Mom tried so hard with me: the dance lessons, putting me in chorus, and why bought me the right clothes for me as a kid. I could see why she was so pissed about my hair, my new friends, and everything that attached to me in this town, like tumors, but malignant. I could finally see why Mom wanted me to be so perfect.

Because she was so imperfect herself, she didn’t want me to suffer either.