And You Can't Tell Anyone, chapter 29
It was after school, and Wren was still seething with rage. As luck would have it, she had not run into Mirabelle for the rest of the day. That was a good thing for Mirabelle, because Wren was angry enough to explode. She had shut herself up in her room and refused to come out.
Angrily, she paced around, stopping every now and then to glare a the ticket on her dresser. I should just throw it out. It's not like I'm going to actually use it. Determinedly, she took the ticket and held it in her hand in preparation of crushing it. She could not do it. Her fingers, though she ordered them to, would not curl around the paper and destroy it. Sighing with disgust, Wren put the ticket back on the dresser.
She sat down on the bed, sighing to herself. This should be easy. It was just a stupid piece of paper after all; nothing more, nothing less. Still, she stared at it in thought. Doubt came creeping in, wearing the disguise of reasonability. It was okay to keep the ticket, just in case. They were young, things could change. Wren hated herself for admitting it, but it was true. Of course, the odds of it changing in the next two days were ridiculously slim.
Still, she could not believe the nerve of her mother. Who does she think I am? Some sleazy girl who gets with whoever happens by? I wouldn't have done any of this if I had even a little doubt of how much I care. Sadly, Wren stared out her window. Memories of her younger days came floating in like the dust particles in a sunbeam. Back then, she had never thought that things could go so wrong. Mother and Father had always been the protectors, had always been there. Now, they were gone, and were going even farther away. I know you can't have everything, but this is unfair. To make me chose between blood and emotions. Deep inside, Wren knew she did not hate her parents as passionately as it appeared. In a twisted way, she still cared for them. It hurt that they would just up and leave.
"Wren? Are you okay?" Mike's voice was muffled by the tightly shut door.
"I'm fine. Go away."
"If you're so fine, why don't you come out?"
"I don't want to alright? Just leave me alone!" She knew it was wrong to yell at him, but she could not take it anymore. The silence that followed made her feel even more miserable.
"Wren, honestly, what's the matter?"
How on earth could she tell him why she was seeking solitude? He would probably go all noble and insist that she go. Then, it would feel as if she had to make a major choice. She did have to make one anyway, but the more people who knew; the more serious it would feel. If she just kept it quiet, then no one would know. She could pretend that the stress was not real. "Nothing! I just want to be alone for now."
As soon as she heard the doorknob move, she pounced on the ticket and shoved it into a drawer of the dresser, under some clothes. She lunged to the door, blocking him.
"Please. Just leave. I don't want to talk right now."
"Will you ever talk about it? I know you Wren, you're a bottler. I sense some serious bottling going on here. If you do this, one day you'll blow up like a shaken can of Coke." Despite the foolish nature of his words, his eyes conveyed nothing but sincerity.
"I promise I won't blow up, is that okay? Please, just go."
"You do know that the only way to stop a can of Coke from blowing all over is to it open slowly?"
"Mike, if I wanted to tell you what's wrong, I would."
"Well, you have to tell someone. Sometime. Maybe me?"
Wren smiled wryly, "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Are you going to come out?"
"I don't think so. I need some time to just work some stuff out. I won't become a bedroom hermit. I promise."
"I'll hold you to it," he replied, and backed into the hall.
Wren firmly shut the door and leaned against it. She could hear him standing there, breathing. Damn, he knows me too well. Seconds ticked by. Wren hung her head as unbidden tears slid silently down her cheeks. If this is the right choice, why don't I feel better about it than this? Her guts felt like someone was taking a screw driver, shoving it into her chest, and twisting.
Blinded by the tears, she stumbled over to the bed and smothered her face in a pillow. She concentrated just on breathing, not wanting a sob to escape and betray her. As a warm hand settled on her back, Wren allowed herself a low moan.
"Hey, it's alright Wren," Mike murmured quietly. "It's alright."
"No it's not. I feel terrible," she whimpered into her pillow. His only response was to continue moving his hand soothingly along her shoulder.
"It's about what went on in the office, isn't it?"
"Yeah. I-I," Wren sniffed into her pillow, "I found out my parents are moving."
His hand squeezed her shoulder, "Did you talk to them?"
"A little. And I don't know why I'm crying. I don't. It's not like I care."
"Do you mind if I stick in my opinion?" the bassist queried.
"Sure." Wren gulped some air and tried to get a hold of herself.
"You do sort of care. It's kind of like, they're your parents; they're not supposed to fuck off and leave you. It hurts 'cause they're supposed to be the people who never do that." After a long pause, he added, "Makes you wonder," his voice was so soft that it seemed he was speaking more to himself, "what the hell is so wrong about you that they had to leave you behind."
After another long moment, Wren sat up and wrapped her arms around him, "Mike, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For thinking that I'm the only one with problems. For--"
Billie Joe's voice preceded the door quickly opening only by mere fractions of a second. "SHAVING GRENADE!"
Angrily, she paced around, stopping every now and then to glare a the ticket on her dresser. I should just throw it out. It's not like I'm going to actually use it. Determinedly, she took the ticket and held it in her hand in preparation of crushing it. She could not do it. Her fingers, though she ordered them to, would not curl around the paper and destroy it. Sighing with disgust, Wren put the ticket back on the dresser.
She sat down on the bed, sighing to herself. This should be easy. It was just a stupid piece of paper after all; nothing more, nothing less. Still, she stared at it in thought. Doubt came creeping in, wearing the disguise of reasonability. It was okay to keep the ticket, just in case. They were young, things could change. Wren hated herself for admitting it, but it was true. Of course, the odds of it changing in the next two days were ridiculously slim.
Still, she could not believe the nerve of her mother. Who does she think I am? Some sleazy girl who gets with whoever happens by? I wouldn't have done any of this if I had even a little doubt of how much I care. Sadly, Wren stared out her window. Memories of her younger days came floating in like the dust particles in a sunbeam. Back then, she had never thought that things could go so wrong. Mother and Father had always been the protectors, had always been there. Now, they were gone, and were going even farther away. I know you can't have everything, but this is unfair. To make me chose between blood and emotions. Deep inside, Wren knew she did not hate her parents as passionately as it appeared. In a twisted way, she still cared for them. It hurt that they would just up and leave.
"Wren? Are you okay?" Mike's voice was muffled by the tightly shut door.
"I'm fine. Go away."
"If you're so fine, why don't you come out?"
"I don't want to alright? Just leave me alone!" She knew it was wrong to yell at him, but she could not take it anymore. The silence that followed made her feel even more miserable.
"Wren, honestly, what's the matter?"
How on earth could she tell him why she was seeking solitude? He would probably go all noble and insist that she go. Then, it would feel as if she had to make a major choice. She did have to make one anyway, but the more people who knew; the more serious it would feel. If she just kept it quiet, then no one would know. She could pretend that the stress was not real. "Nothing! I just want to be alone for now."
As soon as she heard the doorknob move, she pounced on the ticket and shoved it into a drawer of the dresser, under some clothes. She lunged to the door, blocking him.
"Please. Just leave. I don't want to talk right now."
"Will you ever talk about it? I know you Wren, you're a bottler. I sense some serious bottling going on here. If you do this, one day you'll blow up like a shaken can of Coke." Despite the foolish nature of his words, his eyes conveyed nothing but sincerity.
"I promise I won't blow up, is that okay? Please, just go."
"You do know that the only way to stop a can of Coke from blowing all over is to it open slowly?"
"Mike, if I wanted to tell you what's wrong, I would."
"Well, you have to tell someone. Sometime. Maybe me?"
Wren smiled wryly, "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Are you going to come out?"
"I don't think so. I need some time to just work some stuff out. I won't become a bedroom hermit. I promise."
"I'll hold you to it," he replied, and backed into the hall.
Wren firmly shut the door and leaned against it. She could hear him standing there, breathing. Damn, he knows me too well. Seconds ticked by. Wren hung her head as unbidden tears slid silently down her cheeks. If this is the right choice, why don't I feel better about it than this? Her guts felt like someone was taking a screw driver, shoving it into her chest, and twisting.
Blinded by the tears, she stumbled over to the bed and smothered her face in a pillow. She concentrated just on breathing, not wanting a sob to escape and betray her. As a warm hand settled on her back, Wren allowed herself a low moan.
"Hey, it's alright Wren," Mike murmured quietly. "It's alright."
"No it's not. I feel terrible," she whimpered into her pillow. His only response was to continue moving his hand soothingly along her shoulder.
"It's about what went on in the office, isn't it?"
"Yeah. I-I," Wren sniffed into her pillow, "I found out my parents are moving."
His hand squeezed her shoulder, "Did you talk to them?"
"A little. And I don't know why I'm crying. I don't. It's not like I care."
"Do you mind if I stick in my opinion?" the bassist queried.
"Sure." Wren gulped some air and tried to get a hold of herself.
"You do sort of care. It's kind of like, they're your parents; they're not supposed to fuck off and leave you. It hurts 'cause they're supposed to be the people who never do that." After a long pause, he added, "Makes you wonder," his voice was so soft that it seemed he was speaking more to himself, "what the hell is so wrong about you that they had to leave you behind."
After another long moment, Wren sat up and wrapped her arms around him, "Mike, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For thinking that I'm the only one with problems. For--"
Billie Joe's voice preceded the door quickly opening only by mere fractions of a second. "SHAVING GRENADE!"
