Reclaiming the Sand(73)

But what I was hearing spewing out of her mouth was bitter, hateful jealousy. She needed people to like her, to want her, more than they liked or wanted me. That in her head, for all of these years, we had been engaged in some sort of competition that I hadn’t been aware of.

I thought I had kept myself cut off from feeling anything deeply for her or our friendship. That it had been a relationship born out of necessity rather than choice. Somehow I had convinced myself that I had never become overly attached to Dania.

That was such a lie.

Because her hate filled tirade cut me to the quick. It hurt. A lot.

“So it makes sense that you’d end up with a guy like the ‘tard. No one else wants you! So go f*ck the freak. You take up too much of my air anyway!” Dania flipped her hair over her shoulder and stomped out of my room.

I stood there, unable to respond. Unable to yell back at her.

Then my front door was slamming shut behind her. And just like that, our friendship was over.

I turned back to my dresser and saw the mess she had made of my things. I dropped to my knees and picked up one of my sculptures. The tiny Big Ben was broken in half. I rummaged through the wreckage. Every single one was irreparably broken.

I supposed it was only fitting Dania would destroy them.

She had obviously wanted nothing more than to destroy me all this time.

But it would take more than her hateful words to bring me down.

Because I had something to fight for now.

I ran my finger over the tiny piece of art that Flynn had created.

I had Flynn. And I had my future.

And that was something Dania could never take from me.





-Ellie-



Flynn was going over the list he had made for the hundredth time. We were planning to be on the road by eleven. It was now ten thirty. Flynn had calculated our time down to the second.

He carefully picked through his suitcase, counting his shirts and pants. Then he counted his socks and boxer shorts.

This trip was much more difficult for him than I thought it would be. I should have known better of course. Flynn didn’t do well with change in routine. He had his days structured just so.

And even though he was the one who suggested going away, I should have realized that it would require a lot of planning and fore thought on his part so he wouldn’t get upset.

I had already witnessed one such freak out when I had accidentally gotten him the wrong kind of toothpaste. He used Colgate Whitening religiously. When he said he needed some more for our trip, I offered to pick it up. He told me at least four times the brand he needed.

But Reggie and her ramblings had distracted me and I had picked up Colgate Tartar Control instead.

It had resulted in a level ten melt down.

“I use Colgate Whitening. Only Colgate Whitening. I like the taste. This stuff is horrible. I won’t use it!” He was talking rapidly and I could barely keep up with him.

Then he threw the toothpaste across the room. I tried to talk to him. To tell him I’d go back and get him the right kind. But he hadn’t been listening. He had told me to leave him alone.

I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to scream at him to snap out of it. That it was only toothpaste!

But I knew it was useless. He had started rubbing his hands and pacing. He was way passed reasonable.

So I told him I’d be down stairs and then I had left the bedroom, closing the door and waited for him in the living room. I heard thumping above me but I stayed put. Murphy had jumped up on the couch beside me and rested his head in my lap. He was becoming used to Flynn’s fits. And while I had learned how best to deal with them, even if it was contrary to everything I wanted to do, I could admit I wasn’t entirely sure I would ever get used to them.

Because his fits bothered me. They both scared me and made me angry. When he started yelling I wanted to yell back. I wanted to scream at him to stop it.

And then a part of me wanted to run away and never look back. The selfish side of me thought it was too much trouble. That Flynn was just too much for a girl like me to handle. A girl with limited coping skills of her own who was only now learning how to do something other than make shitty choices.

But then I would remember how many times I had been made to feel like I wasn’t worth the effort. Every time I was packed up and shipped off to a new foster home I knew it was because no one could deal with me. That these people I thought could love me, in reality didn’t care enough to put forth the effort.

I wouldn’t do that to Flynn. Because he was most definitely worth it. He was worth everything.

Because Flynn Hendrick had taught me how to feel. He had taught me how to live.

He had taught me how to love.

When Flynn had quieted down, I had walked back up the stairs and slowly opened the door to find Flynn sitting on his bed.

He wouldn’t look at me.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” I said. I went over to him and pulled out the list he had made.

“Let’s go over this again, all right, and then I’ll go and get some new toothpaste,” I told him brightly.

It took a long time for Flynn to look at me again. I could tell he was embarrassed. He always felt bad after a meltdown. But I refused to let him feel that way. He shouldn’t feel bad for being who he was.

So I carried on, not allowing either of us to dwell on it.