Rock Bottom at Eighteen

"Cassidy?  Cassidy are you in there?"  A knocking on the bathroom door accompanied a teenager's panicked voice amidst the loud sound of party-goers.
         Cassidy couldn't answer.  The bathroom floor was pleasantly cool and she slunk down towards it, away from the edge of the toilet bowl.  She wanted to answer, but sleep seemed to be drowning her voice as she attempted to let her friend know that she would be fine.  It was a lie.  A lie she had given so many times before. 
         "Cassidy?  Cassidy answer me!"  The panicking on the other side of the door sounded worse, but Cassidy could barely hear it now; all she could hear was the frantic knocking that was like a drum to her head.  She wrapped her arms around her head and curled into a ball in the corner.  Suddenly she was frightened, her body felt like it was contracting and she felt various spasms throughout her body.
         "Cassidy?  We're knocking down the door!"  The pounding got progressively worse until there was a crash.
         And that's when Cassidy McKellar's world went black.




The morning of Logan's graduation, I woke up in his arms under the ceiling of our tent.  We were tangled up in a sea of blankets brought to ward off the cold Northern Ontario early summer night and my head was laying on his chest.
         "Congratulations," I whispered quietly.  "You graduate today!" 
         Logan made a low noise at the back of his throat and shifted me out of his arms.  He checked his watch.
         "We'd better get going,"  he said.  "I need to shower."
         It was barely eight o'clock in the morning and the ceremony wasn't until noon.  "We can relax for another hour," I replied enticingly. 
         "It's my fucking graduation, Cassidy, I don't exactly want to be late,"  Logan answered harshly, a peculiar tone entering his voice.  He pushed away the blankets and began throwing them in the duffle bag we had brought.  I watched him for a moment, the sun creeping through the mesh roof and lighting his hair.  His green eyes were sharp as they appraised me laying there watching him.  "Let's go."
         I found him to be like this often lately, withdrawn, stressed and easily angered.  I had chalked it up to be graduation jitters, the stress of leaving me here while he went to school in Toronto.  And that morning, like every other instance before, I let it go.
         Logan and I were the typical high school sweethearts.  We had met in seventh grade, junior high.  He wasn't like the other boys.  He didn't snap bra straps or roughhouse during recess.  He was often reading in a corner, glancing up from his book every so often to survey lunch hour chaos with appraising eyes that said he was more mature than this.  In spite of his sandy brown hair, bright green eyes and muscular build, he was not the type of boy most young girls crush on.  And so I, at the tender age of thirteen, initiated a friendship and fell in love.
         Logan took awhile to realize that our friendship was not ordinary. I was the first person he called when he had read something interesting, when he got in trouble (rarely), when the first snow came and he wanted to go sliding, when he got his first job.  He was the first person I thought of when I had exciting news, when my dog died and I needed a shoulder to cry on, when teenage girls were playing mean games.  However there was always an underlying tension, a tension simply based on the fact that I knew I loved Logan and Logan did not realize he loved me.
         There were other boys who were interested.  I brushed most of them off, until Jack came along.  Jack was popular, attractive and a lead singer in a band (the fact that they only played in Jack's drummer's garage didn't mean anything when you're fourteen).  Jack and I dated for a month.  During that time, Logan and I barely spoke.  Part of it was, at fourteen, I didn't want Jack to be jealous of my friendship with Logan.  The second part was that Logan was realizing he was in love with me too.
         He confessed his feelings for me and I ditched Jack immediately.  Logan would always hold part of my heart and there was no point denying that he was what I wanted.  From that point on, we were inseperable.  We did homework together, we went out to lunch nearly every day together, we went skiing together.  We brought each other on family trips.  At my grade ten prom, he presented me with what he called a "commitment" ring. 
         "Promise rings are what teenagers give each other to justify their relationship to the world," he said sagely.  "I'm giving you a commitment ring.  It means I'll always be here for you, that you are my world and that as soon as it's appropriate, I will marry you," and he kissed me softly and sweetly.
         "And you are my world," I replied, gazing into his eyes and thinking my life would always be perfect, as long as Logan was in it. 




After several failed attempts at curling my hair, emptying the contents of my closet onto my bedspread and chipping my newly painted nails, I decided to call Melanie for some help.
         Melanie Rogers is my best friend and fashionista.  Whenever jeans and a sweatshirt just won't cut it, Melanie steps in and saves the day.
         "Hello," Melanie answers her phone on the first ring.  I can hear one of her cheesy Much Music shows playing in the background.
         "Help!"  I reply. 
         "Let me guess," she answers in a morose voice.  "You have nothing to wear to Logan's graduation?" 
"Lucky guess!"  I feel my chest constrict.  I hate being in this predicament time and time again with only an hour to spare.
"I'll be right over, although I do recommend bright fluorescent coloured hats with feathers..."
         "Melanie!"  I screech.
         "I'm just saying, it's cause for celebration and you know..."
         "Melanie, just get your ass over here with some options quick!" I hung up the phone.
         Melanie and I have been best friends since we met in fourth grade.  She had just moved from Southern Ontario with her Dad after her mom died to be closer to family.  In spite of this tragedy, Melanie is self-assured, confident, outgoing and a top student.  She is also, on top of it all, beautiful.  She has strawberry blond hair, the kind with a reddish tinge that you can never create out of a box.  Her hazel eyes are framed by long, flirtatious lashes and her body is tanned, toned and fit.  She is, essentially, what every girl is envious of, however her sweet personality derails this initial emotion.
         Melanie would think that Logan's graduation is cause for celebration simply because he will now be living 800 kilometers away.  Melanie is not a Logan fan, nor has she ever been.  She keeps repeating that he seems to think he is above every one else, that he thinks he is the cock of the walk.  Which is so not true.  Logan is modest and introverted.  I think part of her assessment has to do with Logan and I being so close.  Not that I necessarily put him first, but there has always been a sense of loyalty to Logan that means I tell him things before Melanie, consider his opinion before Melanie, arrange plans for him.  Like I told Melanie once when we had argued this dynamic:  I will eventually be his wife.  And that definitely qualifies him to be all-knowing.
         That being said, Melanie is far from excluded in my life.  We have part-time jobs together at the same local shoe store.  We sleep over at each other's houses nearly every weekend (and every other weekend, we lie to our parents and sleep at boyfriends' houses).  We go see local bands play together.  We have all the same classes. 
         She shows up barely fifteen minutes later.  I can hear her greeting my mother and then storming into my room, arms full of clothing articles. 
         "I think you should wear a dress,"  she says immediately, ruffling through her selection.  She hands me a simple turquoise dress.  I don't even recognize the tag.  She orders most of her clothing online, refusing to shop where everyone else from school is shopping.  Online ordering guarantees her unique clothes.
"I hate dresses," I respond, but change into it anyways.  I glance in my full length mirror.  The sweetheart neckline is flattering and it flows nicely to my knees. 
         "I love the colour, it definitely brings out the green in your eyes,"  Melanie throws me another dress, this one red.  "Try that on."
         Half an hour and nearly a dozen dresses later, I settle on the original turquoise one.  Melanie tells me to wear my silver heels from last year's Christmas formal and picks out a couple of simple jewellry pieces from my modest collection.  She insists on straightening my hair, rather than curling it as my "curls will never stay nice in that kind of humidity,"  in Melanie's words.  She pulls it off to the side in a sophisticated ponytail and allows me to apply my own makeup.  She declares me perfect within an hour and leaves.



I drive to the graduation by myself.  Logan will already be downstairs getting ready with the graduates.  I am herded into the auditorium with crowds of family and friends while I scan for Logan's family.
         They are already seated, only twelve rows away from the stage.  I gratefully notice his mother has saved me a seat beside her.
         The music starts, so Logan's parents nod and smile their greeting to me as I sit down.  His mother grabs my knee in an affectionate sort of way.  His parents have always liked me, and I appreciate the way I am no longer a welcome guest, but a member of their family.
         I watch with pride as the graduates parade onto the stage.  As awards are handed out.  Logan is given several scholarships for academic excellence.  He looks magnificent in his blue robes.  When he accepts his diploma, his parents leap up with joy, clapping and whooping for their son.  I cannot.  Tears of pride and grief sting my eyes.  Logan has graduated.  He will go away to school next year, for diagnostic imaging, on a full scholarship with a five-year work contract ready for him when he is finished.  I will stay here for a year and finish school before joining him.  By myself. 
         The valedictorian gives his speech, about new beginnings and finding themselves.  My tears fall silently and unnoticed by those around me.  They are passed off as tears of happiness.
         Finally, the graduates throw their hats.  The admiring crowd cheers and files out to meet them on the school grounds.
"That was lovely," his mother says, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.  His father is beyond words, simply beaming his approval.
         I follow them out and we stand by the flag pole until Logan finds us.  He hugs his mother and father but seems distant.
         "Stand beside Cassy!"  His mother directs, whipping out her camera.  Logan throws his arm around me awkwardly.  "Smile, Logan!"
         I sneak a glance at him before smiling for her photo.  He seems faraway.  "Is everything okay?"  I ask discreetly in his ear as his mother fiddles with her digital settings.
         "Excuse me, Mom, Dad, I need to speak to Cassidy," and he grabs my upper arm and pulls me away.

"You need to leave," he says, staring into my eyes.  His words have the opposite effect on me then he seems to have intended.  I am now rooted to the spot.
         "What...what do you mean?"  I ask, confused.
         "Listen, Cassidy, I know it's been great.  I know I love you.  But I'm going away.  And this isn't going to work anymore,"  his words come out fast.  I cannot digest them.
         "I don't understand what you're saying,"  I say in a smaller voice. 
         "I  just don't want to go off to school, and you stay here.  You're just too young for me, I guess.  Things are going to be different.  You have things to do, things to take care of.  Maybe in another time, another-"
         I cut him off.  "You don't want me anymore?  Basically, what you're saying is, you want to be free to go to school and fuck whoever you want."

Logan shakes his head.  "No, that's not what I'm saying!"
         "Then why is it an issue?  Why are you doing this?  We've been planning this for years, Logan!  It's going to be fine!  It's us!"  My voice had taken on a sort of desperation, but I didn't notice.  I couldn't feel my palms sweating and shaking.  I could only search his face, trying to find deeper meaning in what was now, so suddenly, happening.
         "Look, Cassy, it's just not going to work.  The more people I talk to down there the more I realize -"
         "What do you mean: 'the more people you talk to down there'?"  I cut him off.  "What people?"
         "You know, people I've been talking to on forums and stuff for school,"  he looked at me in disbelief.  "I've been talking to these people who've been there for a few years and it just seems like-'
         I cut him off again.  "Seems like what exactly?  Like these people, who have no real idea about you and me all of sudden know all the right answers for our lives?"
         "My life, Cassidy, my life,"  he said, staring fiercely into my eyes.  It is a face I've seen so many times before.  He's made up his mind.  He has decided.  Nothing I say is going to change anything. 
         I backed away slowly.  I had no words.  There is nothing I can say to change anything.  As he turned away towards his family, I spun around and ran as fast as I could.
         The school's back entrances are hidden by a cluster of trees.  As I reached them, I stood for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts.
         He doesn't want me anymore.
It was too much to handle.  Logan was my life.  All of my hopes, plans and dreams centered around him and our relationship. 
         So because my heart felt like it was going to fall into my stomach, because my chest could barely contain all the pain, I let myself cry.  I let myself fall onto the grass beneath the trees and sob until the sun began to set