Telling Her She Can't

When I was younger, my mother told me that when I found the perfect boy, I'd be so happy and so in love, that I would never hurt and that I would always be happy. I wanted to believe her so badly and I did. All through my life, if I wasn't happy in a relationship, I broke it off. As soon as it got hard, I would end the relationship just like that. It was simple, really. It was how I lived my life.

My mother died when I was seventeen. It was a terrible time for her to die. A seventeen year old girl really needs her mother, everyone knows that. It was pretty much a fact. So when she died, I was... completely torn apart. My mother was my best friend. She and I told each other anything and everything. With my father gone and my brother off and married living somewhere in Arizona, she was all I had.

Well, that 'somewhere in Arizona' became my home when she died. Since I was about eight months shy of eighteen, I couldn't live on my own. Cole wasn't too upset. He and his wife got a free babysitter for Chase and I was happy to do so. I had transfered to the high school about a months and a half into my senior year and of course, it was a school that had people that were going to school together since pre-kindergarten. They didn't want outsiders and that's what I was. I was an outsider, born and raised in some podunk town in South Carolina.

My senior year was nothing special. I didn't really do much. Most of my days were spent sitting outside my window on the roof of the house, smoking weed or cigarettes to forget about the pain of losing my mother. It wasn't as sad and gloomy as some pathetic Lifetime movie, it was just the truth.

Life was boring.

...at least, until I met Michael Beckford.

He was my neighbor all through senior year, but we'd never officially met or been introduced. We did meet, however, during Memorial Day weekend - which also happened to be the same weekend as mine and my mom's birthday. We shared a birthday and because of the fact that she was no longer around, I didn't feel like celebrating it.

Cole and Laurie had a Memorial Day party, which they apparently had every year. Michael Beckford's parents were invited and so was everyone else in the cul-de-sac. That weekend, Michael happened to be grounded, which meant that he was forced to go the adult Memorial Day party which consisted of, you guessed it, a bunch of adults.

First, I should explain this. My mother was only thirty six years old. Cole was twenty-eight. Now, of course my mom didn't have Cole when she was eight years old. Cole and I only shared the same father - James. James was forty-six, meaning he had gotten his girlfriend pregnant when he was eighteen. That was the story of Cole - who also never spoke to our father.

Back to Michael Beckford.

At the Memorial Day weekend party, Cole had asked me to sit with Chase by the pool - who was six years old and could barely swim still. While Chase was splashing around, that was when the Beckford's showed up.

"Chase, sweetie, come say to Nate," Laurie said, referring to Michael Beckford's younger brother whom was the same age as him.

I watched as the six years ran off into the house together, releaving me of my duty for a moment. "Ellie, come 'ere a sec," Cole called out to me as he stood by the Beckford's, minus Nate. Internally, I groaned. Behind my Ray Ban sunglasses, I hid the glare set to my brother, and I walked towards the family of three. "Katie, Chad, this is my little sister Noelle. Ellie, this is Mr. and Mrs. Beckford. They live next door. And that's Michael, he's your age."

Being the day of mine and my dead mother's birthday, I didn't really feel like socializing. Because of that, I said a quick 'Hello, nice to meet you' and tried to walk off. However, I was stopped.

"Oh, Ellie, sweetie, can you run to the quick shop and pick up some ice? Chase dumped it all in the grass," Laurie asked politely. It was that kind of polite that you couldn't say no to, no matter how badly you wanted to.

When I agreed, Katie smiled next to me. "Michael, go with her," she insisted.

-

"Grab the ice, will ya?" I murmured to Michael, walking towards the guy behind the register. I didn't pay attention to see if Michael agreed or not and I didn't really care, frankly. "Three bags of ice and two packs of Marlboro 27's," I said.

The guy looked at me for a moment, before asking to see my ID, which I happily got out. There was something accomplished about legally buying your first pack of cigarettes. The guy smiled at me, just as Michael walked up with the ice. "Well, happy birthday, Miss Barnes."

I nodded and handed him the money before grabbing my cigarettes and one bag of ice. "It's your birthday?" Michael asked. I nodded. "Why didn't you say anything? Cole didn't even say anything."

"Because he forgot," I replied, shrugging slightly. "And I did, too, until that stupid cashier brought it up."

Frowning, Michael put the ice in the trunk of his truck and he looked over at me. "Why are you so sad all the time, Noelle?" When he asked that question, I gave him a purely shocked look. "I saw you at school, you didn't talk to people really. I see you on your roof all the time and you just... you just stare like your waiting for someone to drive down the road and come get you. And you're so distant. I don't get it, Noelle."

And for some... derranged reason, I found myself opening up to this complete stranger. "My mother died about nine months ago. She and I share the same birthday. My mom was all I had. Cole and I aren't exactly close. My mom isn't his mom - we only have the same dad - who is an asshole, so we didn't really have any ties. South Carolina won't allow a minor to live alone and since my mom hates who my dad is, Cole was my guardian, so that's why I'm here."

Michael Beckford frowned, but he didn't say 'I'm sorry', which was actually relieving. That was all people said. He knew to not say anything somehow. Instead, he stepped forward and his arms, tan and toned, wrapped around my waist. And for some other derranged reason, my arms went around his neck. He held my tight for awhile. One of his hands reached up and down, softly stroking my hair.

"You shouldn't be so sad," he murmured. "You're far too beautiful to be sad."