You Can't Tell Me to Heal

“Are you sure you want to go home? You, like, just got here!” Shannon asked when we were out on the porch. I didn’t reply, but I tried to dry my eyes without smearing mascara on my clothes. “Avery, what the hell was that back there? With Halvo and John and that…mess?”

“It was forever ago,” I choked out, sitting down on the porch steps. “Halvo and I hang out a lot, you know that, I’ve told you that. He’s my neighbor. My mom adores him and his family. He drove me to and from physical therapy when I couldn’t drive myself. Sometimes we had lunch or dinner together. And so, he spends a lot of time with me, actually. He said his friends were bothering him about where he goes all the time because he would cancel on them for me anytime, that they wanted to meet me because they thought I was Halvo’s girlfriend. I didn’t want to meet them. I didn’t want them to see me like this, Shannon. I’m still practically a cripple. So Halvo was like, ‘Oh, I’ll tell them you’re my girlfriend and you’re too shy or you’re busy or whatever so you won’t have to meet them.’ So, there. That’s all…”

Shannon crouched down on the steps with me, comfortingly rubbing my back. “Aw, Avery…”

“Did John really have to say all those things?” I muttered mostly to myself. Slut. Whore. I was one of those people that actually treasured my virginity, so John’s words cut deep. “Why did he have to…Why couldn’t he just…ugh,” I groaned, cradling my head in my hands. “I need to breathe. Bye, Shannon.” I walked towards John’s car, pulling his keys out of my pocket. I swiped them off the kitchen counter. I wasn’t going to ruin his car, but I would like John to worry, especially after the way he talked to me. We were just having a fight. Our first fight, over an issue so meaningless it didn’t deserve to be called an issue. Why couldn’t he handle it better?

“Avery, where are you gonna go?” Shannon asked, following me.

“Way away from here,” I sighed, unlocking John’s car. “Alone,” I added when Shannon trotted over to sit shotgun. “Oh my god, Shannon, please don’t give me that kicked puppy face. I just need some time to cool off. I won’t go too far,” I promised. I was probably just gonna hang out in Parker for a while. “Bye, Shannon.” I got into John’s car and started it. Shannon wildly tapped on the window, so I rolled my eyes and rolled the window down half way. “What?”

“He really cares about you, Avery,” Shannon told me gently. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be so broken up about it. Honestly, I think he even loves you.”

Oh, he loves me? Well he sure has a funny way of showing it.

“Bye, Shannon,” I said for the final time, rolling up my window and backing up onto the road. John had his iPod hooked up to the car’s stereo, and when I turned it on, the first song he ever sang to me was spilling through the speakers in the middle of the chorus. I discovered it was called Big Jet Plane by Angus and Julia Stone. I was scrolling around in his playlists when I found one labeled with my name and a smiley face. I took a look at it and couldn’t help smiling. It was a compilation of songs from all my favorite artists, from Asher Roth and Mac Miller to The Academy Is and Halifax, but it was predominantly Augustana. I decided to listen to Stars and Boulevards. I sang along until my voice was hoarse because I was half singing, half crying. I pulled into the parking lot of a Target half an hour later because I couldn’t see through my tears. Once I’d composed myself, I went inside.

I went to the bathroom first to fix my face, then I grabbed a cart and went to the pharmacy section. I got a little icy hot stuff for my knees, and I pretty much wandered around the whole store. I didn’t feel like going anywhere and I just wanted to kill some time. I listened to John’s iPod while I was there, softly singing along to the songs as I slowly walked down the makeup aisles. I was listening to the Augustana album called All the Stars and Boulevards in its entirety. It was perfection.

When I paid for my things and got back to John’s car, I found my phone ringing like crazy. I didn’t answer it, but when it finished ringing, I took a look at what I received – a myriad of texts and several missed calls. Some texts were from Shannon, some from Halvo, but most were from John. I looked at the ones from Shannon and Halvo. They were just asking where I’d gone, and to come back because John was a wreck. I had to scoff at that. Wasn’t I a wreck, too?

I only skimmed John’s texts. They were simple, asking me to come back so we could talk, telling me I could crash his car if it made me feel better, saying how worried and sorry he was. All my missed calls were from John. The voicemails he left me asked if I was hurt badly, told me we needed to talk, said to come back, all the same things he said in his texts. I turned off my phone.

Avery Lassiter does not accept apologies over the phone.


When I got into Parker, I saw a tattoo parlor and felt spontaneous. John was rubbing off on me more than he should. I went in for a tattoo of an anchor on the back of my neck where my spine jutted out and a belly button piercing. The physical pain distracted me from the emotional pain. I’m not gonna lie, John hurt me. I didn’t even want to get him back or anything. I wanted us to be ok, but he had been angry at me, so I was gonna be angry at him, too, for a little while longer.

I had dinner at some sushi bar thanks to John’s wallet in the console of the car and then I just found some big old empty parking lot, parked there, and stretched out on the hood and windshield of the car to watch the sunset. My neck hurt, but the anchor looked good. Why an anchor? I don’t even know. It just caught my eye when I flipped through the tattoo artist’s sketchbook of tattoos.

I actually fell asleep like that, so my neck hurt like a bitch, and when I woke up, I realized it was a very dark night and I wasn’t in a very well lit area of the parking lot. I hurriedly got into the car and drove away. I decided to turn my phone back on. It rang with alerts and notifications for quite a few minutes. It showed more voicemails from John, and then I had a few texts from him begging me to come back because he had filled up my voicemail box. I scowled before calling Shannon. “Avery?” she said, sounding shocked.

“Avery?” I heard John repeat my name. “Oh my god, Avery called you? Let me talk to her!” I tried not to laugh as I heard Shannon and John fight over who got to talk to me.

“Guys, cut it out or I’ll hang up,” I yelled. That got them quiet. “Hey, O’Callaghan.”

“Y…Yeah?” he said hesitantly after a moment’s pause.

“Do you really want me to come back? Or is it still ‘bros over hos’ up there?” I asked sarcastically.

“I want you to come back,” he murmured, sounding like a little kid who just got punished for doing something bad. “Avery, I’m –“

But I just hung up on him and turned my phone off again. I decided to make him worry just a bit more and checked into a cheap, but still fairly decent hotel for the night. He wanted me to come back, but I would decide when.

He wasn’t going to get off that easily.