No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. (Eleanor Roosevelt)

I woke up in my bed when it was over but sadly the worst was not behind me. The physical worst may have been done but, my God, the fun was just getting going.

“Good morning,” chirped Anastasia, the lovely woman who ran the heroin house. We all hated her. I hadn’t even heard her glide into our room until that greeting.

My roommate’s name was Gloria. She threw a pillow at Anastasia with a crude expression. I liked Gloria instantly, lie. Instantly I hated her for living in my room. However, from the moment I got over the fact that I had to share my room, I liked her. I mean, if I had to share it with someone it might as well be her. She was 39, single and skinny, angry and aggressive; she was mine.

We shuffled to the dining room after everyone else was already seated. We complained about the food and pushed it away.

“I’ll just have an apple.”

“I’ll just have a banana.”

Then when everyone else was gone to group therapy we loitered. We stayed at the table, impeding the staff as they tried to clean up the dishes. We bitterly mulled over the details of our lives. I loved it. Those angst-filled days with Gloria were oddly enjoyable. The staff tried to crack down on us.

“The longer you go without attending the sessions, the longer until you get better.”

Better? There was nothing wrong with us.

Got out of bed today. I'm alive. What can I say? (The Ataris)

I was in the heroin house. There were no claw marks on the walls but I could tell that it had been just painted and I wondered if that was why. It was the highest of the houses perched on a cliff. We had to walk (or ride in the ridiculous golf carts) a few hundred meters to reach the circular loop that the rest of the houses were on. I didn’t understand why we were segregated at first. We had to trek the farthest to get down to the facility’s private beach and I wasn’t impressed by that.

However, the first time I went to the heroin house pool, I paced out to the edge of our deck and leaned over the glass partition. I stared down at the water crashing below, disappearing under the cliff’s edge. It was like I was flying. When the breeze blew I held out my arms and let the air rush all around me. It was like I was flying. I could feel like wind hitting me and the nothingness below me. It was amazing. It wasn’t like a real chemical high but I assumed it was as close as I would get while I was in here.

I looked down again. I wondered how many people had dove down there to their death. I could feel myself beginning to crash. It started in my stomach or was it my head? I knelt to the ground and clenched my stomach, squeezed my eyes shut and rocked back and forth.

Someone came to me and guided me to the basement, where the dark room was. That was where people went to detox. It was a fun place, really. The next couple days were really quite fun too. It took me back to Rider’s apartment. I missed that place. I missed him. I wished I could be back there. I don’t know if I would do anything differently but I would just like to go back. Things were so much better back then. I was younger and I had so much more promise and potential. Every day I got a little older and added a few more mistakes to the growing list that was becoming my life.  

Don't forget the people who loved you, they will realize one day that they still do. (Brittani Lavonne)

So I was discharged from the hospital and I went to hell, I mean prison, I mean rehab. The three terms are synonymous.

Christian drove me out to Orange County and abandoned me at the Healing by the Ocean Care Facility. I could vomit just on account of the name alone. He went to carry my bags in but was stopped in the lobby. Husbands weren’t allowed any further. So he eased my luggage onto the marble floor and like we were in a fishbowl, which came to be a theme, we say a too quick goodbye before I was ready. One of the friendly-looking security guards escorted him out and for once being alone was a very bad feeling. Maybe it was because I wasn’t alone. Until I left I wouldn’t be alone again.

The lobby was about the nicest of the place. For what I was paying the whole place should have been made of shiny marble like the lobby floor. I had to share a bedroom with another woman. It was like the freshman year I never had… at a nunnery. The bedroom was smaller than it should have been, again considering how expensive it was, and though I suppose it was sunny and nice, it wasn’t home. They tried to make it feel like home though. There were different houses all set up to make us like dysfunctional little families. The houses were big enough but there was a forced coziness and a lived-in feel that was jammed down your throat. Aside from the lobby of the main building, nothing was like a hotel. I thought the whole place would be like a hotel. That was what I wanted: a little vacation. They made it seem like a resort in the advertisements but it wasn’t. Maybe if I could have been objective about it I would have loved the place. It was like a dry village designed for desperate rich people.  

How do you leave the past behind, when it keeps finding ways to get your heart? (Rent)

The word divorce crept into my mind and started circulating through my blood making it itch.

“I love you,” he said and he started to cry. I had never seen him cry before. It would have been heartbreaking if my heart wasn’t already so broken.

The sooner you realize things will never be the same, the sooner you can move on. (The O.C.)

The next morning Christian came by the hospital with a heavy heart, it was written all over his face.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I repeated shyly. It felt like I was talking to a stranger. “I get out today.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked as if I didn’t know.

He stood at the foot of my bed and I was disarmed, even more than before. Suddenly self-conscious about the state of my appearance I looked away.

“Have you given any thought to rehab?” he asked. Something about his every word was heavy.

I shrugged.

“Hope… Hope, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

We are dying. I longed desperately to escape, to pack my bags and flee, but I did not. (Sophie's Choice)

He squeezed my hand and looked at me with the saddest eyes.

“I’m not saying that’s the route I’d like to take. Obviously the best place for you is in rehab rather than jail. You’re obviously a very sick woman and you’ll never get the kind of help you need in any sort of correctional facility.”

Rehab or jail, talk about Sophie’s Choice.

I clenched my eyes closed and leaned back against my pillow.

Christian opens the door to the small but cozy bungalow and announces his arrival. Two small children run to greet him. A perfect petit woman walks up to him and kisses his cheek. “How was work?” “Great, how I love imparting knowledge!” They sit at the table and pray and eat homemade food. She has never burnt anything or boiled anything over into the burners. They sit in front of the TV and watch PBS all snuggled up on the couch together. No one gets mad or fights. No one is high. Everyone is happy. That could have been Christian’s life if he never met me.

I opened my eyes and the room was empty and dark. I was alone and I cried. What had I become?  

Men marry because they are tired, women because they are curious: both are disappointed. (Oscar Wilde)

“I’d prefer to speak with the patient alone.”

Christian looked helplessly toward me.

“No, its fine,” I told the doctor. “I want him to stay.”

The doctor sighed. He listed off the vertebrate that had been broken and bruised as if I was a fourteen year old boy who had gotten injured during some rambunctious horseplay and I was at fault for my injuries. Then his voice changed from irritated to serious: “Your bloodwork showed a shocking amount of diacetylmorphine.”

“Dual-cell-morphine?” asked Christian.

“Heroin,” I whispered.

“You have enough diacetylmorphine in your system to kill a 200-pound man.”

“A regular Tuesday night at my father’s house,” I kidded. No one was amused.

“I would recommend immediate admittance to a rehabilitation facility,” he said.

I wanted to laugh but I instead painted on a serious expression to mirror them.

“Recommend?” I asked. “If I choose not to go, there’s nothing you can do though, right?”

“It’s been flagged and I can’t just pretend I didn’t see this. Without any reputable reason why you would have this much diacetylmorphine in your system I would have to alert the authorities – it’s my moral duty.”

“That’s BS,” I protested. “I can’t be arrested for this. That doesn’t even make sense. There’s no way that would hold up in court.” I looked to Christian. “There’s no way.”  

I could follow you to the beginning just to relive the start. Maybe then we'd remember to slow down at all our favorite parts. (Paramore, All I Wanted)

Christian was clutching my hand when my eyes opened. It smelled different. I wasn’t in the barn. I was in the hospital. There was a collar strapped around my neck.

“You’re awake,” he said with relief. His eyes were so pure and so earnest I regretted ever putting him through this.

“I was coming to talk to you,” I tried to say but the words filtered out backwards and jumbled.

“She’s awake,” he called out.

He didn’t leave to tell anyone though. He stayed there holding my hand tightly.

“I’m sorry,” I said and he kissed my forehead.

When a doctor sauntered in with my chart he asked to speak to me alone. He looked irritated.

“I’m her husband,” Christian assured and I smiled. That’s right, doc, this winner right here is married to me.

When you love me, it's as if God forgave me for being the mess I am. (John Fowles, The Magus)

I knew he was my husband. I had been there at the wedding. Still, it wasn’t until that afternoon that it really sunk in. I wasn’t a child or a bachelorette anymore, I was a wife. I had to start taking responsibility. I had to start thinking about others, well not others necessarily but Christian at least.

The least I could do was talk to him. For someone who grew up fast I could be a real child sometimes.

I started to slide toward the ladder to climb down but as I tried to lower myself I realized I couldn’t feel my legs. This wasn’t just the numb feeling I had in the house a moment ago or was that hours ago? Either way, this wasn’t like that. This was real. I couldn’t move my legs.

I toppled to the gravel floor of the barn and it all went black.

It's all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and near escapes. (Reality Bites)

I couldn’t breathe for a second. I couldn’t even feel it right away. There was a moment of numbness as I felt my heart splitting in two. I know that sounds overdramatic and I’m smart enough to know that isn’t physically possible but that was how it felt. There was a distinct ripping sensation as words, how stupid is that, battered my heart. What was happening to me? I never thought I’d let anyone close enough to hurt me like that. I never thought a man could hurt me. Maybe he could overpower me like that stoned hippie when I was fourteen but he couldn’t hurt my heart. When it came to the mental aspect of life I excelled. I didn’t think I could ever feel my heart break. But I didn’t think I would ever fall in love either, not really, not like this.

I turned slowly but then I ran. I grabbed too much heroin on my way out and I ran. Rain was beginning to peck down and the swollen sky was dark and ominous so I ran into the barn instead of heading far, far away from the ranch, as I had originally intended. I climbed up into the loft and lay back on a pile of hay. I was too hurt to cry. I just lay back and thought “What now?” I systematically sniffed away my ample supply of heroin. It was warm and quiet in the barn. The dull light from the window beside me was peaceful. I fell asleep – well it was more a stupor than a sleep I guess.

“Hope,” Christian called. “Hope, are you in here?” That roused me and I stretched my neck to see him. He looked concerned but I could still see a flicker of anger in his walk. I suppose running off and hiding away didn’t help. I could be such a child.

He turned to leave and I wanted to stop him and tell him I was okay but I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to think he had driven me off into the woods to be eaten alive by a pack of coyotes. Before he disappeared from the barn it hit me: he’s my husband.

And then he was gone.

Every moment is a chance to turn things around. (Vanilla Sky)

“I hate this!”

“Hate what?”

“This! The way you are and the things you do! I hate it, Hope, and I can’t live like this.”

“Like what? At the ranch? We can go back to the Palisades. I don’t care where we are.”

“It doesn’t matter where we are because you’re always going to be like this. Aren’t you? Aren’t you!”

“Like what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Hope! I know what happened. I know you gave Lilia drugs.”

I stopped cold.

“You did,” he said dejectedly as though he had expected me to object.

“I didn’t mean to, Christian, honest I didn’t! You have to believe me. She thought it was sugar, I didn’t see her take it. You know I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“What does it matter?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who’s mad?”

“No, I mean what does it matter how the drugs got into her system, the fact of the matter is they did. How can we have children? How can I ever feel safe leaving them at home with you when I go to school?”

That hurt. The scariest thing about loving someone completely is that it gives them the opportunity to hurt you in a profound sort of way. It was that paralyzing pain that froze me there for a silent moment. He looked away, afraid to face the pain he had caused, pain that was smeared all over my face.  

Hate is baggage. Life's too short to be pissed off all the time. It's not worth it. (American History X)

Lilia stayed another night. Christian knew something was up but he didn’t mention it just then. Maybe it was the dancing across the lawn and through the empty barn that tipped him off. Perhaps it was the puking and sweating and shaking. Either way, after she left the next morning feeling like she still recovering from a terrible case of the stomach flu I walked back into the house and asked Christian what we should get for lunch.

He stood in the kitchen with a straight face and his arms crossed.

“Are you mad that we missed church? We can go to the night service. I didn’t want to rush Lilia.”

He didn’t say again.

“She was so sick, poor girl.”

“She was sick,” Christian repeated, annunciating each word.

I nodded slowly, careful about each muscle that was engaged in the apprehensive movement.

The tiny hairs on my arms stood on end as he stared at me unnervingly. I was afraid of him in that moment. I didn’t know what he was going to do.

Thus another friendship was dashed on the cruel rocks amid the storm of my self-destruction. (Russell Brand)

When we left the dull afternoon heat of the sun room, I walked Lilia to her car. The floor creaked under our feet and the smell of a cake baking for dessert wafted through the air. I walked her outside without bothering to put on shoes, treading through the dewy grass.

“The air is so fresh here,” she commented as we stood by her five year old Honda Civic. She breathed it in deeper and deeper. “Like really fresh.”

I nodded.

“Wow, I’ve never noticed it before. It’s so fresh.”

The word “fresh” was starting to lose all meaning she repeated it so much.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “You seem a little off.”

She turned quickly and looked directly at me, into me. Her wide eyes suddenly stared disturbingly and her pupils were dilated so much they were consuming all the color. “I feel great,” she realized. “Like really great. I feel like I could lift this car or crush the sun.”

“Lilia, what’s going on? Why–”

Right, the dish of powdered heroin I had been using as sugar for my tea must have been a little too close to the actual sugar. Lilia never uses sugar, always just honey, why did she decide to branch out today? I bet she didn’t plan to branch out quite this much when she reached for the sugar.

I’m back on heroin, did I mention that? I still do a little meth now and then but I started having these horrific nightmares about an old lady I saw once. Her teeth were rotted leaving nothing but empty spaces and brown stubs. It was disgusting. When I would wake from the dream I would brush, floss and rinse with mouthwash. I didn’t have dreams like that with heroin. Heroin is the greatest drug and my loyalty to it is in my blood. After all it’s the drug of choice of my entire family.  

Success is like reaching an important birthday and finding you're exactly the same. (Audrey Hepburn)

When she came to visit for the weekend she told me over tea in the sunroom about the man in her office, twenty years her senior with a son not much younger than her, who she fancied. She told me all the torrid things she thought about when he walked into the office with a crisp suit on. We giggled and used hushed voices so Christian wouldn’t hear and judge us. He was uptight about such things.

“So he comes into my cubicle one day and I didn’t see him creep up behind me. He always enters energetically with some charming opening line but this time he didn’t. I couldn’t see him when he asked me if I had updated the authorization list. It startled me a little. I didn’t say anything. I just opened it up and he leaned in to check over it. His face was almost touching mine and I got goosebumps.”

I got goosebumps as I listened, experiencing it.

“Then he pulled away and made a joke about something stupid and left.”

“Anti-climatic.”

“You’re telling me.”

Romance novels are birthday cake and life is often peanut butter and jelly. (Janet Evanovich)

On his birthday we drove up to the ranch and I told him it was ours. He was confused with a polite sort of surprise about his confusion.

“What will we do with it?”

“Whatever we want to do with it.”

“Will we live here?”

“Maybe in the summer when you’re not in school.”

So that’s what we did. We packed up and moved to the ranch for the summer.

Lilia came to visit one weekend with a storehouse of stories. She was always amusing. She had long thin brown hair and a bang cut straight across the front. She worked in an office and she would start counting down the days until her next vacation the day she returned from her last vacation. She was a slight girl and she was pretty in that my-nose-is-too-big-for-my-face sort of way. Her real name was Delilah but she had changed it herself to something less frumpy. When she explained that to me she caught my interest and I’ve been interested in her ever since. There was always some second-rate scandal and some embarrassing situation she had got herself into. She had good stories, not as wild as the ones I could tell her but wild enough to dull my appetite for adventure.

Men trust God by risking rejection. Women trust God by waiting. (Carolyn McCulley)

I met with my financial advisor and my realtor simultaneously. I started renting every property but the house in the Palisades. That transaction brought in more money each month than Christian’s annual salary. I didn’t highlight that fact to him, of course.

My mother loved that I had married a teacher, like her, and that I was living a (more or less) clean but lavish life. She thought everything was perfect. My properties and investments were reeling in money so I wasn’t exactly a housewife but my God it felt like it. Christian would leave every morning and I would have the day to myself. I would swim in the pool and tan beside it. I would go to the beach. I would attend Bible studies, prayer groups, charity blitzes and fundraisers. I would go out to eat alone or with Lilia when she felt brave enough to take a long lunch break. I had been to every restaurant worth going to and many restaurants not worth going to. They were all the same. Every day was the same or at least a derivative of the same.

I loved Christian and being with him was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me but I missed my independence, my ambition, and the constant sense of danger.

If you love your job, you haven't worked a day in your life. (Tommy Lasarda)

So that was the dilemma: New Hope Community Church or my father’s house, where my parents were married. I was glad we decided to go to Philadelphia for the wedding but it sure was strange to have my new friends thrown into my old life. My mother and Christian’s mother actual got along quite well, but that was about the extent of the successful integration.

The wedding was small but it was nice. We were married in the meadow beside the house just like my parents were and I hoped that we would have as many happy years together as they did.

We flew back home the next day and had a simple honeymoon at a ranch outside the city. Christian could only get one day off work. That was unfortunate but I didn’t care that we didn’t get to take off to some exotic location. As long as we were together and it didn’t matter how short it was. It could never be long enough to appease me.

I loved our time at the ranch so much that I bought it. I didn’t tell Christian at the time. I saved it for a surprise for his birthday. We went back to the city and he went back to work, he really didn’t need to but that was what he wanted. I respected that. He loved his job. I used to love my job.  

And then there were the moments that made you really, really nervous. (The Wonder Years)

Of all the highs and all the triumphant moments that I had been blessed with nothing was as euphoric as that breathtaking moment on Christmas Day. The gifts were all opened and Christmas trimmings were long since eaten when Christian knelt at the foot of the Christmas tree. I realized what was coming and tears blurred Christian together with the twinkling Christmas tree lights. I’m sure it was beautiful but I can’t remember what he said or if I even heard it over the thumping of my pounding heart. When there was a pause I knew it was time for my line even though I was so lost in the moment I didn’t know what was happening: “Of course, I will!”

And I did, five months later at the same location. We debated having it at New Hope Community Church, after all it had been what had brought us together really and most of our friends went there. Imagine that, I had friends. I wasn’t a recluse anymore. There was one girl named Lilia who I’ll elaborate on later. She’s something else!

It's who I am. Anyone can be a slut, a druggie, and so on, but it takes a lot to be a good girl. (Michaela Marie)

He made me stop apologizing, not just to him but for everything. He didn’t like that I still did drugs. I tried to be more discreet. I never lied but I just tried not to be blatant about it. I still didn’t see anything wrong with loving God and loving drugs. Why should two things that make me feel good be mutually exclusive? Christian tried to explain it to me why it was wrong. It was the only thing we really fought about. In an effort to keep the peace we decided to ignore it, you know, sweep the elephant under the rug because that never backfires.

Our first Christmas as a couple was spent split between California and Pennsylvania. We spent Christmas Eve in Topanga and then did the Santa-style overnight flight to Philly for Christmas Day. That was when he proposed. His mother was peculiar on Christmas Eve, I should have expected something. He stole off with my father when we were all opening presents. It would have been obvious if I had suspected anything like that could ever happen to me. We were dating, sure, but marriage was unfathomable then. A guy like him and a girl like me; it was crazy. Even if I could see it coming, I would never let my heart think it and get its hopes up.  

Life should be nuts, otherwise it's a bunch of Thursdays strung together. (Rumor Has It)

I called a driver and headed home by the light of midday. I drew my curtains and it was as if it was night. I still couldn't sleep. I reminded myself that Christian would live but I wanted to see him. My head knew he was okay but my heart wanted to see him before it could believe, before it could rest. My head reminded my heart I had made promises to ensure he lived and I couldn't see him, not today, not ever.

We were married the following spring.

People change but they do so reluctantly and with the tiniest of increments. (NYPD Blue)

“The surgery,” he began as we both leaned forward, “was successful. Christian will live.” We both cried more. We hugged each other excitedly. I hoped my breath didn't smell like puke.

“When can we see him?”

“Family can go in right away. You're the mother?” She nodded. “And you are the wife? Fiancé?”

I shook my head. “I'm a friend.”

“You'll have to wait until tomorrow then.”

“Hope has waited so long,” she protested already moving toward his room.

“Sorry it's procedure.”

“That's fine,” I dismissed. “I just wanted to know he'd live.” I sighed victoriously. “I'm so glad he's going to be okay.” I stood and shook the doctor's hand. “Give Christian my regards,” I told his mother who nodded eagerly as she hurried the doctor along with her eyes.

They left and walked toward Christian. I watched them go.

You realize that that person is the only person that you're supposed to kiss for the rest of your life. (Never Been Kissed)

I had never kissed him. I vowed to kiss him before he was buried even if just his corpse. The doomed news the doctor carried inched closer and closer.

A normal person might start to cry, I think that's what Christian's mother did. I threw up. Snowcone and chili fries spilled out on the floor in front of me. I ate with Christian last and I never wanted to eat again.

The doctor was put off by my vomit, as one would be.

“Are you alright?” he asked when he was in front of us.

I started to cry. There were fluids escaping all over the place.

Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up. I need your loving hands to come and pick me up. (FM Static)

In my pacing, I noticed the empty chapel. The dingy decade-old chairs were complimented by the decrepit bibles and brochures. The altar below the big cross was all that truly mattered though.

I knelt at the altar and formed prayer hands.

Dear God,

I know you're up there but I don't understand. You can hurt me, I deserve it. You can hurt anyone and I might not like it but I can understand it. Everyone makes mistakes but not Christian. He's so close to perfect it's... it's impossible. It's impossible that you could take him away. We need him here. He gives so much to the world. He loves you Lord and he works so hard to spread the gospel. Lord, he doesn't deserve to die. Save him please.

I know I'm trouble and I know I hurt everyone I come into contact with and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so bad. I'm sorry that I can't be good. I'm sorry that I ever tried to made myself part of Christian's life. I'm sorry, Lord, I'm sorry.

I would bring him down, I understand that and I will stay away, I promise, just let him live. I take responsibility for it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Amen didn't come. I rested my head on the altar and cried. I didn't see Christian's mother again until I returned to the waiting room but she had been there.

The doctor walked out and started toward us. He had a serious expression. I expected anything but good news with a face like that. 

Worry is interest paid on trouble before it comes due. (William Ralph Inge)

“I've heard a lot about you,” I offered when the time was right.

She adopted Christian's half-smile and it cut my heart.

“I don't mean to hurt your feelings but I've never heard anything about you.”

I wasn't surprised but that cut my heart too. I think she could see that and she continued, “I'm surprised he didn't say anything about you. You seem like a nice girl.”

I tried to emulate their half-smile, it seemed appropriate.

“Where did you meet him?” she asked.

“Church,” I said proudly.

She smiled her first real smile since I met her. “That's nice.”

“Well, technically we met outside a bar that I had owned at the time but he didn't see me then.”

The poor woman looked confused.

“Sorry.”

“You own a bar and go to New Hope Community Church?”

“I actually used to own two clubs and had shares in a third. That was a long time ago. Well, I guess it wasn't but it feels like a long time ago. I go to New Hope now and I'm trying to be better. I'll never be good like Christian but I want to be better than I was.” I slapped my palm to my forehead. “What am I saying to you? I'm sorry. I'm nervous and sorry and I'm not really...”

“It's okay.”

Expect trouble as an inevitable part of life and repeat to yourself, the most comforting words of all; this too shall pass. (Ann Landers)

Christian’s mother whisked into the hospital looking for answers. I stood by as the nurses stumbled through charts and conversed with people who hadn't just started their shift. She was getting increasingly upset. She was beautiful: petite and slight, pale and so blonde her hair looked white. She was scared more than anything and jumped when I put my hand on her shoulder.

“Hi, are you Christian's mother?”

“Who are you? Sorry,” she shook her head, “I'm sorry. Who are you?”

“My name is Hope. I'm a friend of his and I was there when it happened.”

She lost all interest in the nurse's station. “Is he going to be okay? What happened?”

“He's in surgery right now. He was mugged, stabbed.”

“Oh God,” she cried. “I can't lose him. I can't.” The woman I just met collapsed into my arms. “He can't die.”

I wasn't just ruining one person at a time anymore, there were families involved now. I promised myself that I would permanently remove myself from his life if Christian survived.

This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time. (Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club)

A long sliver of broken glass was jabbed into Christian's stomach and I lost faith in the world.

I didn't care that they stole my BMW. The only thing I cared about for the next fourteen hours was whether or not Christian would live.

I never was one to have trouble sleeping but all night I stayed at the hospital and paced restlessly. I couldn't even think about sleep. I couldn't believe this had happened. What was wrong with me? Why did everyone who entered my life end up in trouble? Death hung around me. I was trouble even when I wanted to be good. Trouble was in my blood.

The only thing that should surprise us is that there are still things that can surprise us. (Francois de La Rochefoucauld)

I tossed the rest of my snowcone in the trash. I didn’t want it to end but I was too cold to go on eating it. I wished he had been wearing a sweater to share; that would have been romantic. I even wish he had taken the initiative to put his arm around me. Really I couldn’t complain though considering all the pleasant surprises that I had already received from this perfect Sunday.

It wasn’t over yet though. We walked to the car in the nearly empty parking lot. He teased me about something, I don’t remember what now. He looked at me with this magical sort of look and I thought: here it is, he’s going to kiss me.

He didn’t.

Someone heckled out from behind us. Two long lanky teenagers called out something we couldn’t hear.

“What?” asked Christian. They walked toward us. They must have been lost, I assumed. As they neared and I saw their meager clothes I wondered if Christian had done some outreach activity that brought him to them. He was such a great guy I just couldn’t believe he was here with me. What had I ever done to deserve–

“Drop to the ground and give us all your money!”

It is discouraging how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. (Noël Coward)

“So your mother doesn’t go to church?” I asked when we were back up on the pier having snowcones and shivering.

“She does, just not to New Hope.”

“Why not?”

“She doesn’t like to see me play.”

“Oh.” Touché, I suppose.

He shrugged. “She still lives out in Topanga with my grandparents.”

“That’s nice.”

“You say that a lot.”

“You say a lot of nice things I guess.”

It makes me sad. And then it makes me laugh, because sadness at any length is terrifying. (Jill A. Davis, Girl's Poker Night)

We walked along the beach as the sun sang out the final movement of another day. I felt younger than I ever had before. I was suddenly realizing that my innocence had been robbed. Christian was teaching me about the naïveté that I had blown past.

My face ached from laughing. We turned to circle back. He grew serious. I wondered what I had done wrong. The sun was gone completely by this point and replaced by stars. I could feel the dark of the night.

“I was born when my mother was eighteen. Her parents were pretty strict with her and she was a good kid but she had made a bad call I guess.” He shrugged. “People do that.” I nodded vigorously, I knew it well. My entire life was a string of bad decisions. “My dad was in a band¹ and he was just passing through. My mother thought she loved him. She’s sweet like that,” he said sadly. “She only sees good in people. He left and she could never get in touch with him again. Her parents kicked her out. She was in a tough spot. She went to an abortion clinic.”

“No,” I gasped. I forgot that I already knew how the story ended.

“It was even more taboo back then and a lot more dangerous. There were protesters outside and they were angry and my mom doesn’t deal well with confrontation. She started to cry as she tried to make her way through them.”

I got a cold chill.

“Is it too much for you?” he asked looking directly at me for the first time since he started his story.

“No, no.”

He smiled that curious little uneven smile. I liked him so much I thought I’d vomit.

1 Band name removed for legal reasons (but it’s one of the big ones, big as a cockroach or a… I’ve already said too much.)

I love people who make me laugh. (Audrey Hepburn)

“Well, there was a couple there and they were older and calmer. They told her she didn’t have to do this and she started to cry.” I took his hand in mine. It just felt natural and right. He held onto my hand and continued without missing a beat. “They took her aside, away from the group. She told them what had happened and they offered her refuge with them. They told her they had lots of room at their house in Topanga. It seems like a pretty seedy situation but what other option did she have? She moved in with them that night. She swore as soon as she had me she would put me up for adoption and she would return to secretary school and move out. They told her she could do whatever she wanted, they would support her.”

“Why were they so nice?”

“They had a son of their own but he died when he was a baby and they could never conceive again. They were too old to adopt. They tried to raise foster children but they had more than their fair share of disasters there. In an unusual way, both terrible situations melted together and they were perfect for each other.”

“That’s nice.” That was a stupid thing to say.

“Of course when she had me she decided against adoption. She named me after their late son: Christian. They were like my grandparents and they have always been a big part of my life. We never moved out. My mom went back to school when I was old enough but even then it was difficult to live on her own. They really helped her a lot and I think she helped them a lot too. I know it’s really weird. I don’t like to tell people about it but you’re family kill people for a living so I figured it was okay.”

My jaw dropped and he just smirked. I detached my hand from his to punch him with it but I laughed while I did it. I laughed while I did most everything with Christian.

There's a place off Ocean Avenue, where I used to sit and talk to you. (Yellowcard)

“I guess I should have taken you somewhere nicer.”

That’s when I realized this might be a date.

“There are oceanfront restaurants that give you the same view but it’s not the same. There’s something about being outside and breathing in the ocean air that makes a sunset all the more beautiful.”

Wow, he was deep.

“My mom used to take me here when I was little.”

“That’s nice.”

He nodded.

“You don’t say much about your father,” I said, immediately regretting how intrusive it was. “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me anything, I didn’t mean to pry.”

He half-smiled. “You’ve told me so much about your family I feel like I owe you something.”

“No, you don’t have to tell me. Don’t worry. You don’t owe me anything.”

His pursed lips turned up on one side as he looked at his fries. He didn’t want to tell me and I didn’t want to make him feel like he had to.

“These are really good fries,” I said. “Maybe the best chili fries I’ve ever had.”

He looked up at me and smiled a real smile with all his teeth. My heart swelled. I was curious about his father, now more than before. But I was happier that I had changed the subject than I was curious. I liked making him feel at ease. I liked making his life better even if it was in the tiniest way. I liked him a lot.