Never Never Now - chapter 1

1

“C’mon Jake,” I sighed, patting him on the back, “nothing lasts forever.”2

“I know,” he murmured, gazing longingly at Kristie’s window, “but I really thought…”3

“Well,” I continued, cutting him off so I wouldn’t have to listen to this again, “you should probably go home now.”4

“Yeah, I guess,” Jake agreed, stealing one last glance at where my sister was huddled away, avoiding the inevitable, before trudging away, down the snow covered street and out of sight. 5

“Is he gone?” Kristie asked, peeking out from under the covers. 6

“Yeah, he’s gone.”7

“Finally!” my sister whooped, grinning, “How about we celebrate?”8

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on the guy?” I asked, annoyed. 9

“Huh?” she replied dumbly, cocking her head at me.10

“Jake!” I exclaimed, fed up with her, “you broke up with him in a text message for god sakes!” 11

“…So?”12

“He’s freaking heartbroken!” I growled, “Don’t you even care?”13

“Um… Trish… do you like him or something?” Kristie asked, beginning to snicker, “Because you can have him. Jake’s all yours.”14

Unable to take this anymore, I stormed out of the room, leaving my superficial, heartless sister behind as I slammed the bedroom door in her face. 15

“No need to cry about it,” I mumbled to myself through my tears.16

I’d been doing this a lot lately. Breaking down, talking to myself. Maybe, I thought grimly to myself, I was going crazy.17

“Trisha?” Kristie called, “I’m sorry, ok?”18

When I didn’t answer, she continued, “I didn’t mean what I said about you and Jake. I was just kidding.”19

“Go away,” I rasped, burying my head between my knees. I hated getting caught being emotional. I’d always been the one in control, the only one that could be counted on, the only sane one in my psychotic family. But apparently not anymore. 20

Either ignoring my plea or not having heard me, Kristie persisted, “C’mon Trish. Please come out of the bathroom.”21

“I’m not coming out,” I growled at the door, hoping I sounded more angry that crazy. There’s a fine line between the two. 22

“Fine,” she sighed as if I was an annoying toddler who refused to get their diaper changed, “suit yourself.”23

I only dared exit the bathroom once I heard her clomp down the stairs.24

Once in my room, I flopped onto my bead, wishing, as I’d been doing more and more lately, that I could turn back time. Now Kristie was probably on the phone with one of her clone-friends discussing how her crazy sister had flipped out over a guy. It wasn’t Jake I’d been freaking out about though and, though her stupid attitude had set me off, it wasn’t really Kristie either. If I was being true to myself, I had to admit I’d been crying over Jimmy, a ten year old boy who died tragically in a car crash that morning. I’d never met Jimmy, never heard of him until I’d seen his picture on the TV, but I felt close to him somehow. A near death experience can really change a person. 25

“Trisha, your parents are worried about you,” Julie, my psychiatrist, informed me, trying to catch my eye from where she was sitting across from me in a blue suede chair. 26

“I know,” I grumbled, angrier with myself than I was at Julie’s questions, “but I’m fine.”27

Saying the words, I realized how untrue they were. But I wanted them to be true. More than anything, I wanted to be fine, just fine. 28

“Are you sure?”29

“Yes,” I answered evenly, hoping I sounded convincing, 30

“Ok, then…” 31

I groaned. From her worried look it was obvious how bad of a liar I was. 32

“Fine. I’m not ok,” I muttered, glaring at my flip-flop clad feet, “I haven’t been for a while.”33

“Is this about the accident?” 34

I scowled. I hated when people called it that. The Accident. It didn’t do justice to what had really happened. 35

“You almost died,” Julie stated matter-of-factly, shocking me.36

“Y-yes… Yes I did,” I stuttered. 37

“Has this effected your life at all?”38

“Sometimes,” I murmured uncertainly, eyes still locked on my toes, “I can’t take it anymore. I break down. Freak out.”39

Glancing up to see her reaction, I was annoyed to see Julie smiling smugly, proud she’d gotten something out of me. Why was I telling her all this anyway? She would just tell my parents. Then they’d want to talk about what happened. Gasping, I realized I couldn’t let this happen. 40

“Please don’t tell my parents any of this,” I pleaded, unable to stop some anger from slipping into my voice. Great. Now I was whining, begging even.41

“Don’t worry, Trisha,” Julie cooed, still smiling, “your secret’s safe with me.”42

This was why I didn’t normally tell people anything. People lie. 43

Self-pity sickens me. The first days after The Accident I would cry myself to sleep, unable to control myself. Raging against my tears, I’d once ripped a diary to shreds. But destroying an artifact of my past didn’t help me move on to my future. Instead I stayed in a gray place, a sort of middle. I’d grown comfortable there. No emotions, painful or otherwise, troubled me there. Whenever thing’s started to get tough, I’d been relapsing back into that emotionless in-between. It seemed to be the only way I could survive, get past this. If you ignore a person long enough, they go away, give up on you. Why should emotions be any different?44

Picking up the phone on the third ring, I asked, “Hello?”45

“Hey.”46

That voice pulled me up from the depths of apathy. 47

Taking a shaky breath, I murmured, “Who is this?”48

“It’s Wes,” my old friend clarified, confirming my suspicions, “Is this Trisha?”49

“Yeah… it is.”50

“Oh.” He waited for a moment, as if expecting me to say more. When I didn’t, he added, a little nervously, “You remember me right?”51

Of course I did. But what was he doing calling me after all this time?52

“Uh…yeah-I-remember,” I muttered so quickly my words slurred together. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with him? What happened to apathy?53

Nervously confused, I continued, not quite conscious of the words I was saying, “How are you?”54

“I’m good,” he replied, hesitant but seemingly pleased that I was being responsive, “I actually called because I was wondering how you were after… what happened.”55

I was silent for a moment. People asked me if I was all right all the time. Couldn’t they tell I was turning into a crazy freak? Couldn’t they tell how much I’d changed? Shouldn’t I look different? Shouldn’t I have more than a scar to show for… ‘what happened’? The Accident, What Happened… Euphemisms were driving me into insanity. 56

“NO!” I screeched into the receiver, “I’m a mess! I’m breaking down! I’m crazy, Wes. CRAZY!”57

It would have felt good to say those words, though I may have regretted them later. Instead, I sighed, “I’m ok. Thanks for asking.”58

“No problem,” he answered, relaxing now that he knew I wasn’t going to freak out on him. No matter what they said, nobody wanted to hear my story. 59

I hung up a few minutes later, excusing myself by making up a story about having to finish a World History project.60

So that had been Wes. 61

Wes, Fiona, and me had been a trio in sixth grade. Wes, my friend of six years, abandoned me the following year after he grew a few inches, shedding his baby fat and his old friends. After Wes’ betrayal, I’d been left with Fiona who, likewise, moved on. And there I was. Alone. Abandoned. Forsaken. So I had no choice but to move on as well. 62

“I asked her to stay. But she wouldn’t listen. And she left before I had the chance to say….oh…” my alarm blared, “…The words that would mend the things that were broken. But now it's far too late, she's gone away.”63

Hauling myself out of bed, I quickly pressed the snooze button so the Maroon 5 music wouldn’t wake my sister or parents. They wouldn’t appreciate being woken up at five AM and, also, raising them from their slumber would destroy my efforts to have some time alone. Pulling a robe around my shoulders, I hurried downstairs to watch the news, something that had become increasingly important to me since the accident. Even if the stories upset me, I felt I had to watch it. I could relate to the depressed and dying now, the scared and confused were my sisters and brothers. 64

“Breaking news,” a male newscaster declared in a deep sandpaper voice, “is coming your way.”65

“Thank you Joe,” his perfectly groomed co-star squeaked, before continuing, more seriously, with a painfully deliberate frown disfiguring her features. “Another nor’eastern is coming our way. Sorry everyone! Time to get those shovels and snow blowers out again!”66

After a few more minutes, I gathered that the storm was coming Friday. Maybe, I thought, a snaky grin sliding over my lips, Kristie would have a date to cancel. Since she’d gotten over poor old Jake in about half a second, she was bound to have a new boyfriend by the weekend. 67

“Early this morning,” the newscaster continued, regaining my attention, “ a group of young adults crashed their SUV into a tree, zooming off route…” Memories invaded my mind at her words. Laughing. A scream. Bang. Noise. Much too much noise. Overwhelming. Crimson tainting my vision. Sticky blackness. “Trisha!” a faint cry, barely audible over my shocked confusion, “Trish—” Sinking into nothingness. Oblivion.68