Forgetmenots and Second Thoughts

Wren was trembling all over as she and Billie Joe walked silently together. She was not sure where he was leading her, and to be quite frank, she could care less. Her knobby knees shook with each step she took, her pulse beating at an uneven pace. The two had been walking for quite a long time, mostly in silence. She was not sure if Billie was waiting for her to speak up. Wren really didn’t want to say anything but keep it to herself, cooped up inside to rot away. She wanted her memories to vanish and leave her alone, instead of haunting her every night when her eyelids finally shut.

The air around them was cool and crisp, and smelt of wet dog mixed with the scent of refinery smoke. Day had soon turned to evening, the sunlight dimming and the temperature dropping. Wren’s exposed arms and legs were littered in tiny goose bumps and she shivered. Her cheeks were cold and tear stained, yet still felt a warm sensation from Billie Joe’s touch.

Then, on a small landing in the distance, Wren`s blue eyes landed on a small house. It was old and made of a light red brick and held a wooden porch at the front. It looked to be about two stories—the first floor wider than the top. It`s walls were embellished with open shudder windows, painted an off-white and slightly chipped. The area around it was of a lush yellow-green grass. A giant birch tree grew beside the tiny house.

The tip of Wren’s nose and the tops of her cheeks were rosy. A small waft of air was seen as she exhaled deeply. Billie Joe put a hand on her lower back protectively, leading her in the direction of the house. She looked up him shyly.

“Where are we exactly?” She asked him innocently. His lips parted into a small grin.

“This is my place, actually.” He told her, in an almost nervous tone. “It’s as good a place as any. And it’s pretty quiet. We could sit on the roof. I do that sometimes.” Wren bit her lip and thought about what was actually happening. She could not tell Billie what had really happened, yet a part of her wanted to. She got a warm, fuzzy feeling when she was around him, and felt like she trusted him.

The two walked up the gravel driveway to the back of the house, where a small shed stood pushed up against the wall. A metal ladder leaned sturdily alongside it, along with an olive green garbage bin and a few handmade clay flowerpots and a trowel. Billie walked up to the ladder and Wren watched apprehensively as he began to climb onto the roof of the shed, and then swung his body to roof of the first floor of his house. Wren’s eyes were in disbelief, her jaw on the ground. Billie clapped his hands together, a toothy grin visible through the dim light. He motioned her to do the same as he had, and she shook her head.

“There’s no way—,” She began, but Billie stopped her.

“I’m here. It isn’t hard.” He told her reassuringly. Wren slowly approached the ladder and placed a foot on the bottom step. Mentally, she counted to three and started to climb, unhurriedly placing a foot on the next step up, and following with her hands, which were now trembling with fear. She had never liked heights. The thought of climbing anything made Wren’s insides quiver. She finally made it to the top, and stood looking up at the dark sky. Billie crouched down and reached a hand out to her. Wren slipped her hand into his and pulled herself up, beside him again at last.

She sat down and crossed her legs in front of her and stared up at the glowing stars and crescent moon that illuminated the night sky. A cool breeze blew in her face, causing strands of her chestnut hair to fly in all directions and her body to shake and shiver. It was then that she felt something slip onto her shoulders. Billie then sat beside her, his own arms now bare and his white tee shirt fully visible. She gasped and looked behind her. She was now sporting his black leather jacket.

“Billie, you don’t have to give me this.” She protested, but it was not any good. He put a hand to her lips and shook his head.

“I’ll be fine.” He told her, his tone stern. She sighed heavily, deeply, and nodded. Billie put his knees to his chest. “So, what’s going on?” He asked her sincerely, his vivid green eyes caring and full of genuineness. Wren pursed her lips and stared forward, suddenly unsure of what to say, suddenly uncomfortable.

“I’m just...,”She began slowly; “I’m just finding it hard to adjust here. It’s s-so different from Delaware.” She told his with as much confidence as she could fake, trying very hard not to meet his eyes.

“And the bruise on your arm, Wren?” He snapped. Wren’s heart skipped a beat, and she took a deep breath.

“I told you. I just fell.” She stated quietly. “It’s no big deal.” Billie threw his face into the palms of his hands and shook his head, his curls falling through the spaces of his fingers. When he looked back up, he looked almost desperate.

“You know as well as I do that that is a lie.” He said. Wren looked at her laced up converse between her legs. She did not know what to do—tell him the truth or do her best to work her way out of the situation. But Billie was starting to get frustrated. “Wren, I know we do not know each other that well, but I want you to know that I you can depend on me to keep whatever secret your hiding inside of you. Whatever it is, it is probably better to talk about it. Get it out of your system.”

“What if I don’t want to talk about it Billie? What if I cannot tell anyone, because they wouldn’t understand?” Wren paused and inhaled. Her tone of voice had begun to raise, her fists in tiny balls.

“Listen Wren,” Billie told her. “You asked me to bring you somewhere quiet; I walked with you for the entire afternoon and brought you to my own house. I don’t get it. Now I will not understand?” Wren looked up and fixed her sapphire blue’s on Billie’s hazel greens. She attempted to swallow the growing lump in her throat.

“You’re right.” Wren said and bit her lip. “Maybe I should go.” She slipped the jacket off her shoulders and stood, but an arm around her waist prevented from going anywhere.

“Wren, don’t leave. You live near Christie Road, do you not?” Wren raised an eyebrow and stared at him from behind. He released his grip on her and she turned around to face him.

“How did you know...?” She questioned confusedly.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out.” He lifted his index finger to his face and scratched the side of his nose. “How else could you have gotten there on foot? It’s too far to walk from here.” Wren put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side.

“Where is this going, Billie?” She asked him, beginning to get irritated with him.

“I have no idea.” He replied honestly. “All I know is, my mother is gone for the weekend, so I do not have the car to get you back.” Wren could not believe what she was hearing at the moment. Her eyelids were beginning to droop and she was freezing again. The little hairs on both of her arms were now standing on edge. She crossed her arms and let out a giant sigh. A smile was far from her lips.

“Then what do you suggest I do, Billie Joe?” Billie looked up at her and shrugged his shoulders casually. He put his hands behind his head and laid himself down, his eyes gazing up at the beautiful and clear night sky.

“Stay here? I don’t know Wren. That is all I can think of right now.” Wren’s jaw felt as though it had been unhooked and had fallen to the ground. She dropped her hands from her chest and placed them back on her hips. Billie looked over at her. “Don’t get antsy with me. I wouldn’t try anything on you, if that is what you’re so worried about.” He paused, and a sly grin formed at his lips. “...without permission.” He chortled to himself. Wren was speechless and disgusted.

“Do I have a choice?” She asked, feeling helpless. Billie shook his head.

“Not really.” He answered. Wren huffed. A yawn broke through her lips. She really was tired and would rather be anywhere but her own home at that moment. Billie’s place would at least give her the feeling of security, as if she could sleep peacefully for the first time in a few weeks. She yawned once more before Billie spoke up again. “Look—you’re exhausted. I can tell. My sisters all moved out a while ago. You can sleep in their room. It’s across the hall from mine. If you have a change of heart, and you want to talk, I am here.” He stood up and walked over to her. A small smile curled at his lips. Wren couldn’t help but repeat the process. She looked up at him. She loved his eyes, how piercing and fierce, yet sincere they were. She adored their color, a deep olive green. His curls fell into his face and Wren raised a hand to brush them away. Billie’s smile grew. He snaked his arms around her waist, enveloping her in a hug. Wren had her arms wrapped around his neck and her face buried in his hair, inhaling his scent.

Yet, before she knew it, the two were back on the ground and making their way to the front of Billie’s house. He opened the door and stepped in, holding it for her. She unlaced her battered grey Chucks and placed them neatly by the door as she would back at her house. Billie looked back at her and chuckled.

“You don’t need to take them off, Wren. Not here, anyway.” Wren could feel her face beat red as she collected her shoes and followed behind Billie Joe like a little puppy. She glanced around the house as they walked. Old family pictures were framed and nailed to the walls; the floors were of old burnished hardwood. Red-and-white plaid curtains hung over the windows in the kitchen, which complimented the table cloth draped over the table.

They reached the stairs and climbed them to the second floor, which seemed a lot smaller than the main floor. Billie then disappeared into what Wren decided was his own bedroom, leaving her standing in the middle of a hallway, twiddling her thumbs and quivering from the cold. He soon reappeared wearing only a pair of boxers and the same white scoop neck he’d been wearing that day. In his hands he held some clothes, in which he threw to Wren.

“My sisters’ room is right here—,”He pointed to the door beside them. “You can sleep in those clothes.” Wren nodded. They bid each other goodnight and Wren stepped inside the bedroom. A double bed with floral cotton bedding lay in the center of the room. A light wooden desk sat next to it, along with a dresser and a door which she suspected, led to a closet. The walls were off-white, and a small window was placed over the bed. Wren quickly changed into what Billie had given her—a pair of boxers and a grey tee shirt. She threw back the covers of the bad and slipped her thin body inside, grateful for the warmth she felt. She knew that she would have to deal with Ingrid the next day and would most likely have some sort of punishment for staying the night at some boy’s place her mother had not even met, but Wren did not seem to care. All that mattered was the feeling she had inside—the feeling of safety. Wren’s eyelids began getting heavier and heavier, until she finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

++

Billie Joe wasn’t sure how long he had been awake for. It had to have been past midnight, yet he could not fall asleep. He knew there was something going on that she wasn’t telling him, and he knew that it was bothering her. It was eating her away, and that made him feel sick to his stomach. He had to somehow get the truth out of her. Why did she have such a massive purple and black bruise pulsing on her arm? Something so severe could not have resulted from a simple fall; there was a story behind it and he was determined to find it out.

Frustrated, Billie rolled on his side and clicked his night side lamp on and sat up. He pulled his knees to his chest and let out a sigh. The house was so quiet, he was sure he could hear a pin drop. His reddish brown curls messily fell into his eyes, and he brushed them away with his hand.

It was then that he heard the faint whimpers coming from the room beside his. They started out small and quiet, but progressed to shrieks and cries. Billie stiffened and began to get nervous. It was Wren. He got to his feet and scrambled to the door, opening it. Was someone else in the house that he had not heard come in?

He pushed the door to her room open as quickly as he could to see Wren fast asleep, but screaming louder than he had ever heard anyone scream before. She was kicking and crying as though she was in pain. He scurried to her side and shook her as hard as he could, and called her name. She did not wake, but yelled, “Charlie! Get away from me!” Billie jumped back, startled by the outburst, and shook her again. This time he was successful. Wren let out a yelp and sat up, shaking. Her heart beat could be heard from miles away as she attempted to catch her breath. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked beside her and began to sob.

Billie took her in his arms gently. He stroked her back caringly as she cried into his chest.

“It’ll be alright. It was just a dream.” He cooed soothingly. Wren looked up, her cheeks wet and her eyes puffy.

“It wasn’t just a dream, Billie.” She whispered, choking back another sob. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“What do you mean, Wren?” His tone became more serious. “What’s going on?”

“That dream—that nightmare--,” She began slowly, her arms still wrapped around him. She looked up at him and then back down. “Was my reality a few weeks ago.” She took a deep breath and tried to relax. Her breathing calmed slightly. “I was sexually harassed.” She couldn’t even use the proper term—even the few words she had finally spoken out loud pained her. She felt dirty and guilty and used all over again. Billie tightened his grip on her, bringing her closer to him.

He lay down with her, and swore that he would stay with her. Her sobs eventually died down until he heard nothing but the steady beat of her heart, indicating that she was fast asleep again. He smiled to himself.

She finally trusted him.