CHAPTER FIVE
Candace
It was almost midnight by the time Ty was finally able to take me home. It had barely been twenty-four hours, but oddly enough, I kind of felt... at home with him. I had been nervous and scared at first, waking up in an unknown place, but Ty, for all his rough-and-tumble ways, was such a gentle and caring guy. I felt safe and loved in that house. I had made fast friends with his younger brother and learned something about my own subtle prejudices against people with disabilities. Once I got past his horrendous speech impediment and twisted body, Justin really was just like anyone else. Well, maybe a little better than "anyone" else— he was exceptionally smart and had a delightful sense of humor. In a way, he was the yin to Ty's yang. Ty was the breadwinner, gruff, kind of reserved, and extremely serious. I mean, the whole time I was there, I only saw him laugh the one time. Justin, on the other hand, once you got to know him, was really a gregarious jokester, with a sharp emotional intelligence. It was almost as if he was unconsciously compensating for his brother's coldness by being the emotional caretaker. Honestly, they made a great team. I almost kind of envied the Franklin household and wanted to go back there as soon as possible.
Ty and his family were so full of love and closeness, whereas my own family was kind of distant. My parents were kind of old-school traditionalist types. Our relationship was horrible, especially when I was younger and going through all my eating disorder stuff and drug use. Since I'd been in recovery, we had healed the relationship some, but I could never expect my mom to kiss me on the head the way Judy had kissed Ty. It was after midnight when I got home. Ty's house had been so cozy and warm while mine was kind of dark and cold. Granted, everyone was asleep, which is why it was dark, but suddenly everything seemed so quiet and lonely.
I missed Ty. Was I allowed to miss him? I barely knew him, technically, but I felt like we'd been friends for ages. I curled up in my own bed, in my own house, which was only slightly less old and shabby than Ty's. Thinking of his strong, confident voice, I quickly fell asleep.
***
When I woke the next morning, one thought and one thought alone screamed in my brain:
BRAD.
Oh, my God. I had completely, utterly, entirely forgotten about him while I was with Ty. That was not good, not at all.
Yes, it is, a voice inside of me argued, but I quickly silenced it. After all, Brad was my boyfriend and I loved him and I had to be there for him. I hadn't even spoken to him since the incident at the Den. I stumbled out of bed and rinsed my face to wake up, immediately scrambling to find my phone. Well, Brad hadn't tried to call me, either, so I guess it wasn't that important. Still, I dialed his number. He didn't answer his cell, so I called his parents' house instead. His dad answered.
"Meyer residence, this is Robert."
"Mr. Meyer, hi, it's Candy—ce... Candace. Is Brad there?"
"You've got a lot of nerve," Mr. Meyer snarled. Even though he was miles away, I flinched at his tone of voice. "Bradley had to be hospitalized after what you did to him—"
"What I did? I didn't do anything!" I gasped, so shocked that I literally lost my balance and had to sit down. "What... what... I..."
"You abandoned him at that horrible bar?" Mr. Meyer said. "Or were you too stoned to remember?"
"No, I—... I don't drink, Mr. Meyer—"
"That's beside the point. Because of your carelessness—"
"I didn't—"
"— Brad is in the hospital. He's asked about you several times so if you want to visit him, I'll allow it since it might make him feel better. But if it was up to me, I'd tell you to gofuck yourself."
All I could do was sit there, my jaw hanging open. I could not believe that Brad had somehow found a way to twist this situation, a situation entirely of his own making that I tried to talk him out of and make it my fault. My fault! Somehow, I was now the one to blame. How? How?
"Well, do you have anything else to say for yourself, you strumpet" Mr. Meyer snapped.
"Wha—!" The severity of the insult further stunned me. Had it been anyone else, I would've been pleased to read him the riot act over using the "c" word at me, but my brain had stalled out. I tried to put together a coherent thought, a sentence, words, anything, but all I could hear in my head was a faint, weird kind of high-pitched buzzing sound. My face felt funny. I knew that the moment I got off the phone, I was gonna fall apart.
"Well?" he demanded.
"No," I managed to whisper, and he hung up on me.
The phone slipped from my shaking fingers as I stared at the wall. The holes in the power outlet kind of looked like a little face, didn't they? And that face, with its shocked little "o" of a mouth, was about how I felt at that moment.
I had woken up hungry, looking forward to breakfast, but now, there was no way I could deal with the stress of eating. Besides, the only time I felt completely confident was when I was hungry, and if I was going to go see Brad, I needed to feel as strong as I possibly could. Instead of breakfast, I took my sweet time getting ready, making myself as pretty as possible. Hungry and pretty. That's how I liked it. I forced my lips into a smile as I looked in the mirror because I knew my parents weren't gonna smile at me when I left, especially when I refused breakfast.
"Mom, Dad, I'm going out," I said, shrugging into my jacket.
"Out? But you just got back? We've barely seen you in the last two days," my father grumbled over the Sunday paper, sitting in his threadbare recliner.
"I... I know, I've been visiting friends," I said, forcing a tight-lipped smile at him. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Let's have dinner tonight."
"Aren't you going to have breakfast?" my mom said testily, standing with one hand on her hip and the other brandishing a spatula.
"I'll grab something on my way out," I lied. "I've got to go see Brad."
"Oh, Brad," she said, rolling her eyes. "Good luck with that."
"Mom..." I crossed my arms, unable to deal with any more negativity directed at me. Mom had never really liked Brad, and I didn't need her scolding me. I wanted to tell her that Brad was in the hospital and that was why I had to go see him, but then she'd ask why, and I'd have to tell her all about it. The mild satisfaction of guilt-tripping her just wasn’t worth the trouble. "I'll be back in a couple hours."
"Okay," my mother said, shaking her head and turning back to the stove.
Not so much as a "Goodbye" from either of them. I thought longingly of how Justin and Judy had hugged me goodbye last night, how Ty had awkwardly chucked my shoulder because he wasn't really the hugging type. How was it that I got more affection from strangers than from my own family? Hell, Ty even acted more like a boyfriend than Brad did, I thought, as I started to drive.
Boy, Brad was gonna be pissed. There would be no end to the punishment for me forgetting about him like this. Five minutes into the drive, I was shaking with nervousness, and two minutes later, I felt sick to my stomach. Brad was gonna be so mad. Not only was he going to punish me emotionally, but I had a feeling that, once he was better physically, he'd probably hit me to make things "even."
I had to pull over, stopping abruptly, throwing the car door open before I had even put the car in park so that I could vomit. That's how goddamn anxious I was, thinking about Brad. I hadn't even eaten anything, I was simply that terrified. I stared at the little puddle of sick, sinking into the gravel, horrified, and for a moment, I thought, Is this normal? Is it normal for your boyfriend to make you this upset? Is it normal for your boyfriend to abandon you in a bar and then blame you for it?
Is it normal to hate your boyfriend?
Because I realized, as I wiped my mouth and buckled back in, I realized that... I did hate him.
I didn't want to admit it because I'd been dating him for so long, and part of my heart still loved him... or did I just fear him? Maybe I feared what would happen if he found out I didn’t love him. I was so confused. Hate, love, fear and worry, all raged within me like a hurricane.
As hard as I had tried to pull myself together, I was still a mess when I finally got to the hospital. There were tears in my eyes and my knees were shaky as I walked inside and asked the woman at the reception desk where I could find Brad Meyer. She led me to his room, where he was slumbering peacefully, an IV attached to his arm. I gasped and stifled a shriek in my hands because he looked horrible. His handsome face was all battered, but the nurse touched my shoulder to try and calm me.
"Just between you and me, sweetheart, he looks bad, but well… he really isn’t. The doctor doesn't even think he needs to be here, his injuries aren't that serious, but his father's paying a lot of money for us to treat him. We're probably going to discharge him tomorrow."
I stared at Brad’s seemingly lifeless body, barely hearing what the nurse said. I looked at her, blinking back my tears. "Is he okay?"
The nurse pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh. "He's... he's fine, dear. Just a little banged up. Probably the worst injury is a mild rib fracture, which is crazy painful, but not life-threatening. That's probably why he's so insistent on staying here."
"Oh."
"I'll leave you two alone. You want to talk to the doctor, or...?"
"What? No, that's fine. Thanks." I approached the bed as quietly as possible. I didn't want to wake him up because that's when the punishment would start, but if he didn't see me here, then he'd most likely assume I didn't come at all, and things would be even worse. I dragged over a chair and sat down, staring at his face. He was bruised all to hell, one eye still swollen, the other just bruised. His nose was bandaged, presumably broken, and his lip had been split into several places. Of course, I felt bad for him, but I also secretly felt a little bit vindicated for all the times he'd hurt me, physically and otherwise. I glanced at the IV, figuring he had bullied the hospital into giving him some kind of awesome painkillers, and for a second, I felt jealous. For a quick moment, I hated the fact that I couldn't have drugs and just sleep for days. My God, I would have loved to stay in a drug-induced coma for a week or so. I wouldn't have to worry about anything— no schoolwork, no fucked-up family life, no fucked-up boyfriend, no stress about eating, no stress about anything. I sighed longingly, and my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from a number I didn't recognize. I figured it was probably spam, but I opened it anyway.
Hey, can you come over tomorrow? I need to cash in my favor.
For a minute I was confused, even frightened. Who did I owe a favor? Who the hell would text me like this? But as Brad groaned and began to stir, I realized... it was Ty. I smiled, feeling warm and tingly, but I didn't have a chance to respond to the message just then because Brad was finally awake.
"Candace," he grunted, forcing his voice to sound quiet and hoarse. "You finally came?"
"Yeah, hun, I—... I'm really sorry, babe, I didn't— I mean—"
"You left me there!" he whispered dramatically, turning his face away from me. My gut clenched. "How could you? Do you see what they did to me?"
"I—... Brad, I said I'm sorry, I didn't know what was happening—"
"Because you were drunk?"
"Drunk!?" The accusation sliced through my fear like a red-hot knife. I clutched my purse with white knuckles, fuming. I had been sober for years and this asshole was damn well aware of that. But he also knew how much it hurt when he accused me of relapsing. He was manipulating me, plain and simple, and frankly, I was fucking tired of it. "You know I don't drink or do drugs. Don't try to twist this around. You were in over your head with those biker guys—"
"What? So you think they're better than me?" Brad crossed his arms, pouting up at me. His pouting was significantly less effective with his face all banged up like that. "I can't help it that they were trying to rob me."
"They weren't trying to rob you," I said, refusing to let him spin an alternate version of the truth. Usually, it was my word against his and it was too exhausting to fight him, but this time there was a whole bar full of witnesses to what had really happened. Ty knew what had happened. "And while we're on the subject of abandoning people, how about the fact that you abandoned me? I weigh like ninety pounds, Brad! What the hell was I supposed to do? You're supposed to protect me—"
"Look what they did to me," he said gravely. "I'm in the hospital, Candace. The fucking hospital. Okay? This is serious. I could’ve died. You should’ve been able to save me."
"Save you how!?" I ran my hands through my hair in exasperation. "Look, I don't want to fight, Brad, can we just... move on?"
He sighed, laying his hands across his abdomen. "I guess. I'm too weak to argue with you right now."
"I said I was sorry, honey..."
"Weren't you even worried about me?" His voice took on a dolorous tone. "Didn't you even wonder if I was okay?"
"Of course I did," I lied because any other answer would've been unacceptable. "I've been worried sick." I reached for his hand. "I'm so glad you're alright."
"I'm not alright," he insisted. "I'm in the hospital."
I sighed and patted his knuckles.
"You look skinnier today," he added, looking me up and down appraisingly.
God damn my eating disorder, I thought, because those were the magic words. Brad knew that any compliments about my appearance, especially my weight, would make me melt in his hands. I felt warm and wanted whenever he said shit like that, even though, deep down, I knew he was just messing with my head. I smoothed my hair and flashed him a nervous smile. "Do you think so? I skipped breakfast."
"Oh, aren't you supposed to be in recovery or whatever?" Brad made a face of disapproval. "Skipping meals is bad baby."
"But you just said... I..." Tears welled in my eyes. I withdrew my hand from him, clutching my abdomen. I hated that he had the power to make me feel so good one second, then literally destroy me the next. He knew just where to hit me: My body image, and my recovery. As the tears rolled down my face, my hatred for him multiplied. He was playing me, and I knew it. What was worse, however, was that I was powerless against it.
"You never kissed me hello," he complained, pressing the button on the IV line to deliver another dose of morphine.
Obediently, I stood up and gave him a peck on the lips, hating myself for doing as he asked. What I really wanted to do was slap him for being such a manipulative jerk, but I couldn't slap my boyfriend... could I?
"I'm tired, you can go now," he said.
"Oh, I'm dismissed, am I?" I pointed out sarcastically.
"Yes," he answered in perfect seriousness.
"Fine. Bye."
"Wait, you have to kiss me— are you coming to visit tomorrow?"
"Yeah, sure," I sighed, wanting to get him off my back, "what time?"
"Anytime, I don't know how long they'll keep me here," he said gravely. "I'm very injured."
"Sure." I gave him another peck on the lips. "Feel better soon."
"I'll try."
"Love you."
"Bye."
I left feeling less anxious than when I'd come, but more angry. Everything about Brad pissed me off lately. Why are you even dating him? Asked the little voice in the back of my head. And honestly, I didn't have an answer.