Reclaiming the Sand
Page 29

I grabbed her by the upper arms and gave her a firm shake. “Calm the f**k down, Dania! Right. Now!” I demanded. She shook her head, her dark hair flying. And then like a switch had been flipped, she wasn’t raging anymore. She crumpled into a heap on the floor and started sobbing.
The white haired lady gave my friend a look of disgust and quickly left the store. I hurried to the door and flipped the closed sign.
I returned to Dania who hadn’t moved from the ball she had curled in. I was unfortunately too used to her meltdowns. They had been occurring with more and more frequency since she had gotten pregnant. Dania was volatile on a good day. Pump her full of hormones and you had a level ten detonation.
I realized as I helped her to her feet that at some point in the past year I had grown increasingly tired of Dania’s dramatics. Of her selfish and narcissistic behavior. It was easy to excuse when we were young and stupid. But now that were staring adulthood and all the responsibilities that entailed in the face, I was less willing to excuse her craziness.
That’s just Dania didn’t really cut it anymore.
But I still found myself helping my borderline psychotic friend to her feet.
“Stop crying, Dania. We’ll figure something out!” I told her firmly, needing her to snap out of it so I could get back to work.
“You’ll help me?” Dania asked, instantly brightening.
I nodded, knowing I had been played. How often had she flipped out in the past to get her way? Someone hadn’t grown out of the toddler tantrum phase apparently.
She’s my friend. She’s the only family I have. She helped me; I have to help her.
I repeated this over and over again, hoping it would erase some of the growing irritation I felt toward her. And it did. Somewhat.
I didn’t have anyone. But I had Dania. Whether I really wanted her or not.
“Of course I will. Now I’ve got to clean this up,” I admonished her gently. Dania rubbed her red eyes with her hands and just like that she was fine.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” she giggled and I wanted to strangle her for her self-involved indifference.
I bit down on my frustrated sigh and cleaned up the mess while Dania hopped back up on the counter and started talking about the places she knew would be just perfect for us to move into.
I pulled out my essay that I had somehow been able to finish in between dealing with Dania and agreeing to take the closing shift at JAC’s the night before. I had come to the college campus two hours early so I could type up my sloppy hand written paper.
I passed it up to Casey, who had obviously forgiven my outburst a month earlier. We were never going to be best buddies, but I could talk to her without growling and Casey could look at me without looking like she wanted to run away.
“What did you end up writing about?” Casey asked as I handed her the rest of the papers from the people behind me. We had been reading Nathanial Hawthorne’s Young Goodman Brown. I’d really enjoyed it and I had gotten into my topic.
“I ended up writing about the role of Satan,” I told her quietly.
“Wow. That’s good! I just did a plot analysis. It totally sucked.” Casey made a face. I didn’t respond.
I was hesitantly pleased with my paper. I think I had done a good job, but considering the chaos of my evening I couldn’t be sure. I hated that I wanted to focus on this. That I really wanted to give it a shot, but it seemed like everything else in my life was determined to get in the way.
Dania had stuck around for another hour after her flip out. I had practically counted down the minutes until she left. By the time she went out the door she had somehow convinced me to go apartment hunting later in the week.
I didn’t want to live with her. I’d rather chew off my own arm. But somehow she made me feel that I owed it to her. Good to know her friendship was so conditional.
I had been more than eager to get to school the next day. Somehow, someway in the last month, Black River Community College had become my sanctuary. I was only there for four hours a week but it was enough to keep me going the rest of the time.
Being on campus, sitting in class, talking about things like symbolism and plot devices, I could put some distance between Ellie burgeoning college student and Ellie my life sucks and I’ll never get out of Wellsburg McCallum.
It had been almost two weeks since I had ended up at Flynn’s house. Two weeks and I watched and waited for him to pop back up at the most inconvenient moment.
Imagine my disappointment when it was almost as though he had vanished.
And that annoyed me. And it annoyed me that it annoyed me.
Sure, I could have gone to the art studio. Flynn had asked me to stop by after all. I could have appeased my potentially destructive Flynn Hendrick curiosity and gotten it out of my system by seeing him again.
But I just couldn’t.
I was more than embarrassed by my behavior the last time I had seen him. I had been weak. I had been vulnerable. I had been a big, whiny ass**le.
Flynn represented a life I had left behind me. A world I had severed ties to when I had gone to juvie.
A world I thought I’d never exist in again.
I had lost everything because of that unusual man and I was beginning to think he had no idea.
I had held onto my bitterness and anger for so long it had become a part of me. If I let it go I wasn’t sure what I’d be left with.
My anger had kept me strong. It kept me whole. It was part of the person I had become.
As I talked with Flynn in his moonlit yard, I felt the snarls of my rage loosen and fade away.