Dance With the Devil

Axel drove around a bit before he took me home. He drove through the northern woods, and by the big lake at the other end of the forest. I wasn’t sure why he took his time, but I didn’t ask, and I didn’t really care honestly. It was nice to just drive around for the hell of it sometimes.

The sun was nowhere in sight when he finally dropped me off. It hadn’t really been out before, but now it was shunned into a world beyond the clouds. I walked into my house as Axel pulled out of my driveway.

The house was quiet, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was only my mother and I who lived here, and we weren’t loud people. The most noise that ever emitted from our house was the television. And that was rarely. I called for my mother, though I didn’t expect much of an answer. It was normal for her to sleep around mid afternoon. I don’t know why she sleeps so much, but I swear she’s the only person I know that can fall asleep to an atomic bomb. I’m jealous she can sleep so well.

As I suspected, I walked into the den and found her passed out on the couch with a book on her stomach, as if she had been reading before she fell asleep. I smiled slightly. She looked so old and fragile when she slept. I quietly sneaked my way up to her and sat myself slightly on the sliver of the couch that was available. I nudged her arm, at which her eyes automatically popped open. The woman could sleep through an explosion but a pebble the size of my fingernail could hit her and she’d wake up.

She blinked herself awake slightly, and then began to sit herself upright. “Hello,” she said. She still sounded like she was sleeping.

“How long have you been asleep?” She looked at the clock that hung above the fireplace. It was nearing 5pm right now.

“Only about an hour or so. When did you get home?” She furrowed her eyebrows at me slightly as she tried to get up off the couch. I got up and let her swing her legs off the side, at which she stood up.

“Just now. I stayed out with a friend after school.” Her face returned to normal, only because I knew she thought that I meant Eli or Aubrey. My mom knew who Axel was, but wasn’t aware of how much time him and I have been spending together recently, and it’s best to not tell her. At least right now.

“Would you like some tea? I think I’m going to make a pot.” She called to me as she headed up the stairs. If I hadn’t eaten dinner with her for 18 years, I would have thought she survived off of tea and coffee alone.

“That’d actually be really great, thanks.” I followed her up the stairs and then I went up the stairs again to my room. I pulled off the shirt I was wearing and replaced it with a sweatshirt instead. It was my favorite sweatshirt; it was warm and comfortable, and had a wolf on the front of it. This wolf made of cloth reminded me so much of the one I saw in the woods. It had nearly exactly the same colors and pattern. I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around the whole meaning behind seeing that wolf though, and the images it showed me. It had probably been a dream, but it felt so real. It felt as if I had reached out my hand, I could have been able to touch it and feel its fur under my fingers.

I lay down on my bed and stared at my ceiling. I heard my door nudge open slightly, and realized it was Jack when I felt the pressure on my bed increase as he jumped up on it. I brought my knees up so he had room to lie down. It had been so long since I had just took a moment to relax like this, to just sit down and reevaluate my life correctly. There was so much going on, and I really had no choice but to take all of it as it came.

I thought back to Axel’s words earlier. The concept of forgiving Nick never really crossed through my mind. Part of me wanted nothing more than to just be with Nick again and to make all this mess go away, to just go back to the way that things were. But what I told him the night we broke up was true. We were drifting, and if not now, I could feel that we wouldn’t be lasting forever, maybe not even another month. Maybe what he did didn’t change anything.

Except it did.

It completely destroyed the way I see him. The moment my eyes locked on him and that girl, that girl in her leopard print bra and long blonde hair; that was the second everything I had ever thought of him shattered. The years of him making me laugh meant nothing anymore. The times he held me when I cried nearly didn’t exist. Every memory I had with him was suddenly wiped out of my head in a millisecond. He made everything change forever. Whether I forgive him or not, he will never be able to undo what he did. I will never be able to remember him with a smile on my face. When I saw him with her, it almost wasn’t Nick I saw. It was my father, and I was my mother. In that moment, it was me living my mother’s nightmare.

I turned on my side slightly and pulled out the drawer next to my bed. I danced my fingers over multiple items until I felt the right one and pulled it out. I held it in my hands, as small as it is and just stared at it. The small purple Tortex guitar pick that I gave to Nick, now rests right beyond my fingertips. Everything it stood for is ruined. I felt myself getting mad as I stared at it. My emotions were a mixing bowl at the moment, but the only thing I could feel now was anger. I wanted to break the pick in half, but I knew I wasn’t that strong. In thinking it was the only thing I had the power to do at the moment, I threw the pick all the way across my room. I heard the small tick of it as it hit the wall, and I saw it fall to the floor.

I could feel slight tears welling up in my eyes as I thought, and I felt one or two subtly roll down my cheek and land on my pillows. I did nothing to stop them. Because if they weren’t for Nick, they’d be there for another reason.

My father.

He had never even said goodbye to me. I was at school when he told my mother about the cheating. I was at school when he left. He said nothing to me; no goodbye, no explanation. There was no letting waiting for me when I got home. I remember I had tried to call him, but no answer. It was as if he had never been here. He took everything with him, except for a few old office papers that he left in the den where he used to have his office. It took everything within my mom to finally move them out of the den and into the attic. I had suggested just burning them, but my mom decided against it since they were technically belonged to the office and not my dad.

I felt Jack reposition himself next to my feet, and I bent myself down so I could lightly stroke his head. Jack had technically been my father’s as well. He bought him because he wanted me to have a dog growing up. Funny as it turns out, Jack ended up being more of a family member to me than my father. Even when he was still here, before he left, once I hit high school he called it quits on my life. He didn’t ask me about my day anymore, or even really talk to me at all.

I heard my mother call my name from downstairs. The tea must be done. I wiped away the strands of tears dangling from my eyes and sat myself up. Jack picked his head up and looked at me with those slate blue eyes of his. Jack couldn’t speak, but he always knew what to do. I leaned down and hugged him around the scruff of his neck and gave him a kiss on the head before I got up and walked downstairs.

The heat of the steam from the kettle made the kitchen the warmest room in the house. The warmth greeted my skin with a hug as I walked into it. My mom was in the living room sipping her tea on the couch while a rerun of Friends played. She glanced back at me for a moment when I came down. “Your tea is on the counter.” I went and grabbed my cup as I wiped my eyes dry. One thing I hate more than crying is crying in front of someone.

I sat myself down on the loveseat and pulled my legs up on the couch; knees in front of me. I sipped at the tea periodically. It was still hot enough that steam was coming off of it, but it was so good it was worth it. My mother made the best tea. She always sprinkles the tiniest bit of vanilla extract into the water while it boils, and then a little bit again once the tea is in the cup. It always tasted like a little bit of heaven.

By the time the show was over, my mom had finished her whole cup of tea. I was only halfway done. She got up and began walking towards the kitchen. “Do you want another cup?” I heard her ask. She normally drank two or three cups of tea each time she made it.

“No thanks, I still have some left in this one.” I heard the metallic clanks of the pot and sugar bowl on the tea cup while she was in there. I took a small sip of tea as she moved her way back over to the couch.

It wasn’t quiet, but only because the TV was on. It registered as white noise to me; I wasn’t really watching it. I was still being enthused by my thoughts. It then just slipped through my lips, like a snake in the grass. “Do you forgive Dad?” Nearly owl-like, my mother’s head spun around to me. She didn’t look shocked, or disappointed; she was almost expressionless, like she had heard me speak but didn’t understand my words. With one had still securely around her cup, she picked up the remote from beside her and muted the television, and if my ears heard correctly, I heard her sigh slightly.

“I can’t forgive him if he’s not sorry.” I looked back down at my tea, brown swirls dancing in it.

“If he was sorry, would you?” She repositioned herself, and looked away from me, as if she was really thinking about it, which she probably was. It’s not as easy of a question as one would think. Her features popped out at me as she thought. Her blue eyes for one thing, but more so her face in general. She had so many wrinkles and bags under her eyes. She looked ten years older than she was, and it felt like I was really looking at her for the first time in a long time.

“Yes,” she finally said, looking over at me. “I would forgive him. But there is a huge difference between forgiving and forgetting, Karlee. If somehow, your father came back and apologized to me, I would forgive him because that’s the right thing to do. But that doesn’t mean that he’ll be welcomed here again, or that I’ll treat him just like I did before.” She paused, repositioning herself again, and perhaps thinking of what to say next. She took a moment before she spoke again, letting her eyes linger around the room before they finally fell on me. “People do stupid things. Sometimes they mean to, sometimes they don’t. But they do. I do, you do, everyone does. And some of those things will hurt. But no matter whether they were purposeful or accidental, they can’t be undone. All that pain you went through cannot be un-felt. You know how when you crumple up a piece of paper then lay it out flat again, you can still see the creases?” I nodded. “It’s like that. They can try all they want to get everyone of those creases out, but they will never succeed.” I stared at her. She was being so wise; it really was almost like I was seeing her clearly for the first time. “That’s what I am right now. I am a crumpled piece of paper.” I didn’t quite know what to say. I could feel her eyes on me, but I couldn’t meet them. I took a sip of my tea, now lukewarm. “Did he apologize to you?” I looked up at her with confused face. She knew that my father didn’t say anything to me the night he left.

“Dad?” She shook her head.

“No.” I then understood who she meant. I looked back down at my tea. I knew that I hadn’t done anything wrong, but she had just sounded so smart and wise in the way she talked about my father. I think about Nick and I nearly cry. Not to mention, I might not have handled everything in the most mature way.

“Yeah, he did.” I traced the top of my cup with my fingers.

“What did you say?”

“Not much of anything. I haven’t talked to him since the day it happened.” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Well maybe you should.” I didn’t like the idea of talking to Nick yet. It still felt so soon and I wouldn’t even be sure if I would have a voice left to tell him how I felt. “Honey,” she said to get my attention again. She had the tiniest smiles on her lips. “If I could talk to your father, I would. But I have no way of getting in contact with him.” The window curtains that were draped behind her hung open slightly, and the flurries of snow along that dark canvas made my mother’s icy eyes pop.

Wait. Flurries.

I set my tea down on the coffee table in front of me and looked over at her. “I’ll think about it. I think I just need a little more time.” I picked myself up from off the couch and made my way over to the bottom of the stairs where my purse hung off the railing. I grabbed it and pulled out my keys. “I think I’m going to go out for a bit though. I love driving in the snow. It calms me.” My mother looked behind her through the curtains to see if it really was snowing. She then turned back at me, taking a sip of her tea, again with a light sigh at the end.

“Alright. Don’t be out too late. And be careful.” I shut the door behind me and trotted over to my car, cold as could be. I backed myself out, and made my way down the snow covered road.