Be Free, Be You

I couldn’t believe my parents just sent Valarie away. As always, she was the golden child, who was fucking sent to live with her boyfriend, while I was the demon who had to be contained. Because if I found someone who cared about me, it was obviously a danger and only to get back at my sister.

It didn’t pass my parents’ minds that I didn’t give a shit about the past between Valarie and Puck. Whatever happened in the past, it stayed there. Time changed people. It shaped us and altered our minds until we became so different that we didn’t even recognize ourselves. Humans were not like pieces of steel, which were stuck in one shape until time wore them down, but more like a piece of clay that got molded by our experiences, continuously morphing throughout our lifetimes.

So what Puck did in the past to Valarie shouldn’t affect what their perceptions of him in the present. They were two entirely different Pucks.

My parents stared at me as I tried to explain this to them, trying to expand my metaphor to make them understand better, but their eyes were still blank. They didn’t understand. Or, probably more accurately, they didn’t want to understand. They’d prefer to favor Valarie once again, support her opinion of Puck instead of listening to mine.

“Steph,” my father replied in what was an attempt at a soothing tone, but was actually just stiff and uncomfortable, “I’m sorry, but we just can’t let you go out with that boy. After everything he’s done to your sister, he’d lost every opportunity to earn any amount of trust from us. Please try to understand that and see where we’re coming from.”

“But I can’t,” I snapped. I sounded like a selfish brat, but I didn’t even care. “All I hear right now is that you’re favoring Valarie, just like you have been our whole lives. As much as you guys hate it, you have two daughters, who both have opinions that matter and feelings that get destroyed just as easily.”

“Stop it right now,” Mom hissed. “This has gone on long enough. We’ve tried explaining it to you calmly, but you’re not willing to listen. You’re acting like a child, Stephanie, and I will not tolerate it anymore. As long as you live under our roof, then you’re following our rules. Our rules mean no Puck, and that’s final.”

For a second, I thought about running away. I could live in Puck’s house, sacrifice my love of bacon, convert to Judaism, and the two of us would live happily ever after away from the watchful, hateful eyes of my parents.

But then reality settled in, and I realized that was the stupidest thing I’d ever thought of. The two of us would probably drive each other crazy living under the same roof, or I’d end up pregnant and the object of everyone’s bitterness. Plus, I was fifteen years old. Where the hell was I supposed to get money to live like that? I couldn’t make Puck’s struggling single mother pay for everything for me.

“Fine,” I sighed, feeling the tears pool into my eyes as defeat washed over me. “I’ll break up with Puck.” I wanted to add so many things, to tack on accusation after guilt trip on the end of my statement, but I knew it would just reinforce my mother’s decision that I was acting immature.

Without another word from either side, I disappeared inside my room and sat in the middle of my floor. My phone was across the room, which was the only way I could contact Puck and tell him that our relationship was going to have to be over, but I didn’t have the heart to break it to him. Not just then.

After breathing for a while, trying to calm myself down and stop crying, I called him. Although it was late, he picked up after a couple of rings. “Steph?” he greeted, sounding slightly groggy.

“Hey,” I responded in a higher voice than normal, curling my knees up against my chest and wrapping an arm around them. “How are you?”

“Tired,” he laughed. “Is there a reason you’re calling me so late?”

“I’m sure you heard about the whole blow up thing that happened the other night and how Valarie’s living with Artie for a while until it gets figured out, right?” I took his silence as an answer in the affirmative. “Well, I tried explaining to my parents tonight, without Valarie interrupting, about why I think your past with her shouldn’t affect our relationship, how I was actually happy with you, and you treated me well, and they were completely unreasonable. So they told me that I have to break up with you, no exceptions.”

There was a long time where neither of us spoke, the only sound over the phone the sounds of our soft breathing. Then, finally, Puck said, “That sucks, Steph. I’m sorry. I wish there was some way we could keep this going.”

What we’d had could barely be called a relationship, but I liked it. It was fun, it was exhilarating, and I really cared about Puck, whether he felt the same about me or not. We didn’t have anything earth-shifting or mountain-moving, but we did have a bit of a whirlwind romance.

“Me, too,” I whispered, biting my lip to keep from sobbing at him. “I really am sorry, Puck. I wish things were different.”

And instead of an answer, I heard a click and a beep, signaling the end of the call. I had no idea what he was thinking, how he really felt about the whole situation, and I knew that we weren’t going to talk anymore. It was a feeling deep down in my gut, maybe women’s intuition or something.

The next morning, I walked downstairs after getting almost completely ready and saw my parents milling around the kitchen. There was something about the energy between them that let off this energetic, optimistic air. It was obvious that they were excited they’d finally gotten through to me, that they’d tamed the shrew in the family, and everything once again fit into their mold of the world’s most perfect family.

Instead of addressing how disgusted they made me, I pulled a packet of Pop Tarts out of the closet and started to munch on one.

“Steph,” Dad said, turning toward me as he took a sip of the mug in his hands, “I’m going to take you to school this morning, okay?”

I shrugged wordlessly and took another bite of my Pop Tart, letting the chewy, gummy pastry serve as an excuse to why I couldn’t answer.

It almost seemed criminal that I was in such a bad, hostile mood while my parents fluttered around each other, talking and joking and laughing about whatever was hysterical about making lunch for later in the day.

Almost.