May's Story (Part 3)

* * *

The dance was really fun. We danced a lot until we were exhausted, which only happened once or twice, and then we just talked until our energy was back up. The last song was a slow song. He took my hand and eyed me a question, which I shyly nodded my head to, and I wrapped my arms around my neck, slightly blushing when I felt his firm hands on my hips, and started turning and rocking. I realized that my breathing problem didn’t act up once throughout, and I proclaimed Chris my breathing charm.

At the end of the dance, before we walked home, he grabbed both my hands and looked at me passionately. I felt my lungs build up and get ready to explode, which is when I remembered to breathe. My head felt light but my neck was heavy, the pressure made it feel as if I was going to faint. He leaned towards my face and pressed his damp forehead against mine. He breathed out as I breathed in and I could taste the gum that caked his breath a tasty mint. I wanted him so much. The lust of just one sweet taste of his lips was so thick it was almost tangible in the air that rushed around us.

After our moment, he turned and walked me home, my hand intertwined with his. I hugged him goodbye and slugged inside, terrified of being on my own after a night like this. Guilt took over, and as much I denied it and told myself we’re just friends, the burning hate for not kissing him lingered in my heavy stomach.

But as I started up the stairs, my door swung open and Chris walked in. “Can I sleepover?” All the bad feelings in my body flushed out.

I couldn’t stop the gigantic smile that lightened my face instantly. “Yes!”



* * *

I walked down into the kitchen with Chris, the sun violating my eyes painfully. My hair was messily tied up and I was still in my pajamas. I was an utter mess, but Chris has seen me like this multiple times, so it didn’t matter anymore.

Mom was cooking breakfast and dad was sitting at the table, a beer already in hand.

Mom seemed to avoid facing us as she spoke. “Oh, Chris, hey. I didn’t know you were here. I’ll cook you breakfast.”

He smiled gratefully and sat down next to me, I sat in between him and my dad. There was a noticeable layer of awkward in the quiet air. I remembered Chris knowing what my dad did. I swallowed, in fear of what might happen.

My mom came over to us, placing several plates in front of us, and I gasped when I saw her blackish-blue nose, obviously broken. “Mom!”

She ignored it. We all knew what happened.

Chris dug himself into his food angrily.

“Hello, Christopher,” my dad said, slurring and laughing a bit.

I saw him grinding his teeth in his mouth. Hold it down, Chris. I know what you want to do… I looked over to make sure there was a big space between Chris and the knives.

“Hello, Mr. Helotes,” he grunted.

“How’s your mother doing?” He asked.

“I’d tell you if you cared,” Chris said, eyeing my dad, challenging him.

“Of course I care,” he said, then yawned disrespectfully and started laughing at himself.

“You seem to lack respect for women, Mr. Helotes,” Chris started to rise out of his seat.

“What do you mean?” Dad said over his coffee mug, not listening really.

“Hitting your wife.” Mom looked at him thankful that someone was there to stand up for her. “And you even dared to stoop low enough to hit your daughter. May can’t stand up for herself. What were you thinking?” He said, his voice rising and quivering with anger.

My stomach flipped nervously.

Mom quickly turned her head to me. “He hit you?!”

Dad laughed. “It taught her a little respect.”

Oh no.

But Chris just clenched his fists, holding back. “With all due respect,” he paused, then spat, “sir, I think the only one here who has an issue with lack of respect is you.”

My mom was just as upset, “How dare you hit May?”

“She has the video, Lauren. With our wedding on it?” he said as if that was a good enough excuse to hurt his child.

But mom’s face dropped as she looked at me. She seemed disturbed and almost frightened.

“You hit her over a video?!” Chris was yelling now.

“No, I hit her because she told me to die, or something.” He laughed, “Who can remember? Maybe I just did it because I don’t like her. Maybe I just hit her because I can,” he was really pushing Chris’s buttons now. “because I wanted to.”

Chris lunged himself across the table and landed on my dad, who fell out of his chair and hit his head off the floor.

Chris punched him again and again. I jumped up from my seat and pulled Chris off of my dad, who sat there and took the blows dumbly.

My mom just stood there, looking at Chris, who stood above my dad, still cooling off.

“Why did you do that?” Dad asked through a bloody nose and mouth.

“Because I wanted to,” Chris spat as he stomped on my dad’s pants, probably relieving me from any siblings forever, and my dad groaned loudly and rolled on his side. “It’s funny how you have such a hard time with someone who can hit back.”

My mom rushed us out of the room, but before she turned around to walk back in, she leaned over and whispered, “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”



***