You Can't Tell Me to Heal

I adjusted my metronome before playing Claude Debussy’s Reverie again from the top. Playing both hands together was still a problem for me. I could never get the timing right.

I was at therapy or my psychiatrist too much to hold a steady job, but mom didn’t mind. She worked all the fucking time. I was home alone a lot. That would’ve bummed me out if she wasn’t so in love with her job. I didn’t complain, though…at least, not to her face. She gave me every material possession I desired and thought that it was enough, thought that it was good parenting, thought that it made up for dad leaving. I let her think that, even though the one thing I wanted more than anything in the world was to just spend some time with her, like we used to…

The timer on the stove went off, so I turned off my metronome, pulled the piano cover over the ivory keys, and headed into the kitchen to check on my dinner – chicken fettucine alfredo! John started to text me, so we continued the playful banter throughout dinner.

I liked the way John texted me. I wasn’t used to that from a guy. Even Halvo, as much as he cared about me, didn’t text me the way John did. John put actual thought into his texts. John always texted me first. John texted me just to talk. Halvo really only texted me when he needed something, or I only texted him when I needed to be picked up from therapy. Halvo’s texts were blunt, concise, and usually abbreviated. John spelled his words out and his texts were littered with emoticons. It was fucking cute, and it made texting John that much more fun. John also called me, just to talk. Halvo didn’t really need to call me just to talk because he saw me all the time, but still…

I didn’t really want to see John unless necessary. For some reason, I always felt intensely self conscious around him. I think it was because of what he called the first time we met… Avery Lassiter, the pride and joy of the women’s Division I soccer team at ASU. That’s what I wanted to be. That’s what I wanted him to see me as. Both were impossible because of my knees.

John lucked out when he dropped out of ASU after a year to pursue a career in music. That explained why I didn’t remember him. That really interested me. I was in the middle of asking John about his band’s CD when my mom called. “Hello?” I answered hesitantly, hoping to god nothing was wrong.

“Hi, darling,” my mom sighed tiredly. “Look, I just wanted to call and say I’m not coming home tonight. I’m staying at a hotel in Flagstaff with some colleagues from work, but I’ll be back Tuesday.”

“Oh, right. For that business seminar, or whatever?” I guessed, not really surprised. Mom came home really late and left for work really early. I used to stay up all night until she came home, just to ask how her day was. She didn’t have the energy and sent me to my room. I tried waking up early to say bye before she went to work. She told me to get some more sleep so I’d have more energy for my physical therapy. It’s a lose-lose situation with her, so I gave up pretty quick.

“Yes. Now, remember, if you need anything, the Halvorsens are across the street. You can spend the night at Eric’s if you’re afraid to sleep in the house by yourself, but I don’t want anyone other than yourself inside our house. Understand?”

“Yes, mom,” I said meekly. She sighed in relief. “Have a safe trip, and I love –“ But she already hung up. I stared at my phone in disbelief before shoving what remained of my dinner in the fridge. I’d lost my appetite. I texted John goodnight and went about the house chores, starting with cleaning up in the kitchen, followed by my laundry, and finally straightening up my room.

It was only 10, so I put on a movie in my room out of boredom – Bend It Like Beckham, one of my favorites, of course. Shannon was at some party with Garrett. I didn’t wanna text John first. Halvo wasn’t one for conversation. I fell asleep during the movie…

“What do you mean, she can’t play soccer anymore?” my dad demanded.

Dr. Resnick helped me into a sitting position on the hospital bed. “Sir, your daughter has torn both ACLs. She’s lucky she can walk. With physical therapy, she should be fine in daily life, but constant rigorous physical activity is out of the question. Avery just can’t –“

Mom pulled her chair closer to my hospital bed, loving running her fingers through my hair. “Jacob, stop it,” she softly chastised my dad. “Avery, darling, you’ll be going back to Dr. Resnick for physical therapy again, alright?” she said, and her voice cracked a little bit.

Dad got up and left my room. “Dad?” I called out to him. Dr. Resnick just shook his head and scribbled some things onto his clipboard. Mom continued to run her fingers through my hair, and she had started to cry. I sat up abruptly and swung my legs off the bed, but when my feet hit the ground, the crippling pain made me collapse.

“Avery!” my mother gasped, rushing over to my side.

But I was already up and half limping, half jogging after my dad. “Dad! Dad, wait!” I yelled at him, bringing attention to myself. “Dad, please!”

He finally stopped walking, turned around, and steadied me in his arms once I’d caught up to him. “Avery, get back in your room. You’re making a scene.”

“I’m sorry, dad,” I choked out, crying because of the physical and emotional pain. “I’m sorry I can’t play soccer anymore. I’ll play if you want me to, no matter what the doctors say.” That was his our dream for me – to make a career out of soccer. “See, I can still run. And after therapy-“

“Even if you did play, you wouldn’t be able to play half as well as you used to,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes and releasing me. “It’s over for you, Avery. It’s not your fault you’re so useless.”

And with those words, he broke my spirit and was out of my life forever.

Mom and Shannon ran over to me with a wheelchair at the ready. I watched him walk down the hallway and round the corner, leaving my line of sight.

When I went home the next day, he had moved out.


I gasped when I fell onto the floor. The nightmare had me thrashing around so much, I guess. It was a quarter to two. I hobbled down to the kitchen for some water to drink and ice to put on my knee. That was when I heard my phone ring. I answered it without a second glance. “Hello?”

“Hey, Avery!” John said brightly. “Oh, wait…were you asleep?”

“I needed to be woken up,” I mumbled, rubbing away the tears that leaked from my eyes. I didn’t dream about that day very often, but when I did, I could never go back to sleep. “Thanks, John…what are you doing up so late anyway?” I asked, stifling a yawn as I made my way to the piano room. From the window there, I could see that Halvo was throwing a sick house party, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m at a friend’s party,” John said casually. “Just wanted to step out for a breather, though. I’m not really feelin’ the party scene tonight…”

“So you called me why?” I laughed, carefully lifting the cover off the piano.

John didn’t answer. “Hey…are you about to play the piano?” I sighed, but John just gasped in excitement. “Put me on speaker and play the piano, I want to hear you!”

“John,” I whined his name, but I was already putting him on speaker and trying to pick a song. “Well, I’ll play you a song…but you can’t laugh at my singing, ok? I have to sing along and play, it’s the way I learned it,” I told him sternly.

“Ok!” And so I played John a song... “Avery, that was great! I love that song!”

“Really?” I said hesitantly, and I felt myself blush. “They’re actually one of my favorite –“

That’s when I heard the sound of glass smashing. I spazzed out and it took me a while to grab my phone, but once it was in my hands, I took John off speaker and dropped down to my hands and knees, crawling out of the piano room. “Avery? Avery, are you there? What’s going on? Avery!”

I saw two dark figures standing in the foyer, approaching the kitchen – where I was hiding. My heart was pounding wildly against my ribcage and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My mind was a million places at once. John was still yelling at me on the phone. I knew I couldn’t grab a knife from the drawer. They’d see me for sure. I bolted up the stairs and locked myself in my room. “Shit! There’s someone here!” I heard a masculine voice yell.

“Avery, what the fuck is happening?!” John demanded worriedly.

I regretted not having any windows that opened in my room and settled for hiding in my closet. I grabbed my old soccer cleats to use as a weapon. The cleats were metal, so they should do some damage, right? I couldn’t really think. I was paralyzed with fear, and I could feel a panic attack coming on. “John, I think someone broke into my house,” I whispered, and I started to cry then.

“WHAT?” John yelled, but I only trembled harder. I could hear the footsteps upstairs now.

“Hey, this room’s locked!” The same voice from before could now be heard right outside my door. I heard a few dull thuds for a few excruciatingly long minutes before the sound of wood tearing from wood reached my ears and light seeped into my closet from under the door. “Alright…that person’s gotta be in here somewhere…”

“John?” I whispered, panting and sobbing all at the same time. But all I heard was a click. I had a full on panic attack at that moment. “John? John, are you there? John!” He’d hung up on me. I bit my lip so hard I knew I drew blood, trying to keep myself quiet. Whoever was in my room was still walking around, looking for me. My hands were still shaking so bad. I did manage to dial 911 after a few attempts…

But then my closet door was pulled wide open.