Rewired (The Progress Series) Page 7

  He dropped to his knees and buried his head in his hands, trying to keep his desperate sobs silent so Gabe wouldn’t hear.

  *

  Sitting propped against his headboard the next morning with his energy depleted, Sam’s fear and anger festered.

  Fuck this. She might think I’m an asshole; she might think he’s better for her; she might think our story is over, but it’s not. I’m not going down without a fight. Or at least, not going down without an explanation.

  Sam reached for the box filled with Charlie’s old journals and random memorabilia. He chose a red notebook and flipped it open.

  Dear Journal,

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or both.

  It’s my thirteenth birthday today, and you know what I got? Mom and I got into a fight this morning. I failed my English test. Aaron Paulson pushed me down the last two steps in the stairwell, and to top it all off, I got my period and forgot to bring my fucking Tampax. Which wouldn’t have been that bad if I knew I was going to get it, I could’ve just used toilet paper until school ended. But no! That of course would be too much to ask for! Instead, after sixth period ended, I was walking to my locker with a stain the size of China on my butt and Debbie Johansen, yep, Aaron’s girlfriend, decides to yell across the locker bay…

  He pulled his eyes from the page. “Aaron Paulson. Paulson? How do I know that name?” Sam said aloud to himself. Making a note of the name, he turned to a few pages later.

  Dear Journal,

  My therapist is the one that suggested these journals. I don’t know what good they’re going to do, it’s not like they’ll stop a suicide attempt. But, I’m doing as I’m told because it’s important to Mom and Dad.

  Uncle Ron said he’d pay me a dollar for every pound I lose. So I’ve been counting calories. Today I’ve only consumed 13,245. Isn’t that great? Don’t answer that, I know it’s horrible. I don’t really want to think about it, so I’ll probably stop dieting. Because really, there’s nothing about me that wants to be attractive. I will never be pretty, and that’s just reality…

  Sam closed the notebook and grabbed a green one from the box. He took a deep breath before opening it. Jesus. I didn’t realize things were so bad for her then.

  Dear Journal,

  I’m in the hospital today. When I couldn’t press the razor blade down, I got into the medicine cabinet instead.

  My therapist has been here twice already and she suggested I make a list. She wants me to write twenty things I like about myself.

  And I hate this assignment.

  1. My hair

  2. My handwriting

  3. I’m good at softball

  4. I’m good at art

  5. I’m a good listener

  6. I help people who need me

  7. I try to stay hopeful, apart from my current situation…

  Sam closed his eyes briefly to try and ease them from the terrified stare at Charlie’s written words. In these pages, there’s an entire life I knew nothing about. He plucked another notebook from the box and noticed Charlie’s mature handwriting.

  Dear Journal,

  I started tenth grade last month, and would you like to know what’s happened in the past seven days? Aaron Paulson dared a guy to ask me to Homecoming. And last weekend he came to my house and he threw toilet paper in all the trees (thank God my folks thought it was one of Sabrina’s friends). Then the guidance counselor at school advised me to take a paced science course. So now, I’m feeling really great about myself. Dumb and ugly. Fuck! Does this shit ever end? High school can suck my dick.

  On top of that, I get to see Joe next weekend. FUCKING JOE!! Mom invited that motherfucker over for dinner. I haven’t had to see him since I was ten years old, since that day. Maybe I’ll just run away for the night. Maybe I’ll stab him as soon as he walks in the door. No, no. I know myself too well. I’ll sit at the dining room table, hope he doesn’t look at me, keep my head down, and never go anywhere alone that night. I think I’m going to puke.

  I’m running out of people to talk to about all this stuff. I used to have Paulina, but she’s off trying to get a chance at winning valedictorian. And Angie isn’t even in high school yet, she wouldn’t really understand this kind of shit even if I tried to explain it. I’m not going to tell Mom and Dad about this stuff, it’s way too embarrassing. Just another failure.

  I’m feeling pretty alone right now. My therapist says that this is likely going to have a lasting effect on my adulthood if I don’t start facing some of this stuff. And to that I say, ‘I don’t give a shit.’ Why? Because I’m just trying to survive today so that I have a chance for a tomorrow. I’d be a goddamned mess if I tried to deal with all this shit every day.

  Two weeks ago, Aaron Paulson stood up on top of the row of short lockers and got everyone’s attention. I kept my head down, hoping he hadn’t seen me. Boy, was I wrong.

  He said, “Attention everyone! Charlie Johnson wanted to tell everyone here today how much she weighs. You see, she’s been dieting, and we can all see how well she’s doing! So let’s give her a round of applause for the complete fat fucking failure that she is, shall we? Bravo, Charlie. Bravo.”

  There had to be over two hundred students there at that moment. And one hundred ninety-nine of them clapped for me. And I have a story like that for every single day of the past six years. That’s not even to mention the other kids at school, the people at the mall, work, the sidewalks, the city…

  There’s really only one place I don’t hear it, and that’s at home. Mom, Dad and Sabrina give me hope that not everyone hates me. Maybe my family does hate me, but feel obligated to love me because I’m blood. But I’m grateful for a reprieve from the torture everywhere else.

  I’m still hopeful, though. Maybe there’s a guy out in the world, right now, living through the same shit that I am. And maybe I’ll meet him someday and he’ll just know. Together we can figure out why this had to happen to us, and even better, help each other heal. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll fall in love with who I am and not for what I look like. I’m asking too much, aren’t I? Well, a girl can dream.

  But Aaron’s right, isn’t he? I’m almost six feet tall and I weigh over three hundred pounds. It doesn’t get much more disgusting than me.

  Sam rubbed his thumb over the surface of the paper where the writing had been smeared. He could only assume they were Charlie’s tears that had muddled the blue ink. He shook his head and pulled out the last journal in the box, seriously entertaining murderous thoughts of Aaron Paulson. Not only because Paulson had done that to Charlie, but because he had done that to anyone.

  Dear Journal,

  At the ripe old age of seventeen, I’ve finally figured it out. I still get teased every day, and I still think about all of my embarrassing moments, the jokes, the rape, my failures… but as soon as the thoughts come, I flush them away. I can’t really explain how I do it, I almost feel like it’s out of my control. But my mind refuses to see it and they’re getting buried deep inside of me. I don’t know where they’re going, but everything has stopped surfacing. Maybe I’ll luck out and I’ll forget about all of it forever…

  It’s made reflection easier for me though. I can stand back from it, remove myself, and look at it critically. I thought about this the other day. For me, when Joe raped me it stripped a part of my dignity; it was embarrassing, filthy and cruel. It’s also something that happened a very long time ago for all of about five minutes. But the bullying? That has taken a part of my soul that I’ll never be able to get back. It’s been constant. It’s been torture. And it’s something that I just don’t think my mind was able to cope with anymore.

  I don’t think I’ll ever truly forget all of it. I’m sure it’s going to change who I am forever. But I’m graduating next week, and I’ll never have to see any of these people again. Then it’s off to college I go. I just hope that place isn’t more of the same.

  No matter how strong I think I am, there’s always going to be
someone that will be able to shred me in a second. And I think I’ll probably spend the better part of my life trying to avoid them.

  Chapter Four

  Desperate for more answers, different answers, Sam sought out Angie and Karalee. He and Charlie hadn’t spent much time with them in the past year, but he knew their friendships stemmed further back to Charlie’s childhood. His only other option was to go to Karen or Sabrina, but he didn’t want to reveal to her family that Charlie had cheated on him. So he drove to The Crimson after work the next day and hurried around the restaurant looking for the first familiar female employee.

  It had been several months, and her hair seemed shorter than he remembered, but he saw a manager in the bar area that resembled Karalee.

  When she saw him from across the room, a recollecting smile surfaced on her face, along with an almost instant grimace. She exhaled and scratched her forehead as she walked toward Sam.

  He glanced down at her nametag. “I thought that was you. How have you been?”

  She nodded with dismay.

  He nodded back and attempted a smile. “You know why I’m here.”

  “I think so,” she said, visibly distraught. “I don’t know what I can tell you, though. Here, have a seat.” Gesturing to the booth in the corner, she grabbed two waters and sat down with him.

  “I take it you know all the details, then?” he asked, agitated.

  Taking a sip through the straw, she hesitated. “No. I mean, I’ve only spoken to Charlie briefly in the past few weeks. But, I can tell you for sure that if Jesse is back in town…you have nothing but trouble ahead of you.”

  “That’s his name? Jesse?”

  Karalee winced. “Shit. I thought you knew more than I did.”

  He raked his hand through his hair. “This is what I know…” Holding up his fingers, he counted off the facts of the past month. “One, I asked her to marry me and she accepted. Two, I left for New York and while I was there, she cheated on me.” Karalee’s eyes widened and she covered her gasp with her hand. “Three, I try to come to terms with it and surprise her with a reunion at her company’s award ceremony. And four, she abandons me in the parking lot before we can talk about it.”

  Karal rubbed her forehead and took a deep breath. “Jesse is someone that worked here last year. In fact, she was still a little hung up on him when you showed up and asked her on your first date.”

  “She never told me she was in a relationship then.”

  “She wasn’t.”

  “You’ve lost me.” Sam shook his head. “Had they just broken up? Why wouldn’t she tell me about him?”

  “Oh god. I would imagine she probably felt the same way I do right now. I have no idea how to start that story.” Shaking her head, she looked toward the front doors to make sure the dinner rush hadn’t started yet. “I don’t know how much time I have right now, but feel free to ask me questions and I’ll answer them the best I can. The rush will start any minute.”

  He nodded. “How well do you know Charlie? I mean, what would make her do something like this? I thought I knew her, I thought…”

  “Okay, let me start off by saying that I don’t know her as well as Angie does. But when it comes to Jesse, I know more than I ever wanted to. That man sucks every last ounce of energy from you, and the shit he says sticks with you, forever. He is one messed up son of a bitch.”

  “Then why? Why would she… How could she let this happen?”

  Karalee shrugged. “I guess you had to be here. They had this weird connection. No one in this place, and I mean no one, liked him. Well, once they got to know him anyway. He was a slut and an ass and a head case.”

  “Head case?”

  “Yeah, like…mentally insane.” Scratching her forehead, she paused. “No, that’s not fair. He wasn’t insane. But he sure acted like it sometimes.”

  “What are we talking about here? Like the rocking-yourself-in-the-fetal-position-in-the-corner kind of insane? Or the violent-felon-I’ll-murder-you-in-your-sleep kind of insane?”

  “With Jesse it was always so hard to tell. I’d say he was capable of both. He did get violent with her once, and he was always coming to work with fresh bruises and black eyes. But then there were some days he was like a little kitten, and all he wanted was a small stroke to his ego.” She shrugged. “Charlie was able to give that to him whenever he wanted it.”

  “He hit her?” Sam said, furiously gritting his teeth.

  She put up her hands. “Wait, now I didn’t say that. I don’t know what happened between the two of them that night—but Angie might. She mentioned something to me about it shortly after it happened.” Karal glanced back toward the door as two families were ushered to their seats. “I only have a few minutes before I have to leave…”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sam sat staring at the table, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Charlie wouldn’t be with him unless she felt like she could help him. What’s wrong with him?”

  Karalee sighed and leaned in toward him. “Okay, but you gotta promise me you aren’t going to tell anyone I told you this.” Sam nodded. “When we got back from the cabin last year, I decided to take a peek at his employee records—only because I was genuinely concerned with Charlie and Jesse’s relationship. They were just friends, or at least, that’s what they claimed. But something didn’t sit right with me. The only thing I could find in his file was his previous employer’s information, social security number,” she leaned in and whispered softly, “…a bipolar diagnosis, and an alias.”

  “An alias? That’s kinda strange, don’t you think? Do you remember the name?”

  “I’m going to get into so much trouble…”

  “Karalee, look. I know you don’t know me very well, but I’m not a vengeful kind of guy. I have no intentions of using this information against Charlie, Jesse, or anyone. I’ll keep my mouth shut. I guarantee it. But if you know Charlie like I do, she’s the kind of person who always thinks she has the answers. She always thinks she can solve everyone’s problems, make the world better. She thinks that somehow she’s going to be able to find the right words to help every suffering person, creature, and being on the damned planet. If she thinks she can help him, she’s going to damn well try. What I need to know is whether or not she’s in any immediate danger. So if you could give me all the information you can on Jesse, then I can find out what she’s gotten herself into and what exactly it is that we’re dealing with in this guy.”

  She swallowed. “His full name is Jesse James Anders. His alias is Jesse James Sanborn.”

  “Karalee! I need your help over here!” the hostess shouted across the bar.

  “I gotta go. Please, keep me posted. Here,” she said, pulling her business card and pen from her pocket. Scribbling her phone number on the back of the card, she said, “This is my number. Call me with any information you get.”

  “Thank you, Karal.”

  “Have a good evening, Sam.” She turned to walk away and he called her back.

  “One more question. Do you know an Aaron Paulson?”

  Karal nodded and reluctantly walked back to the table. “Yes. He’s the one that always made fun of Charlie in high school,” she said sympathetically. Her head shot up in sudden thought. “He was also Charlie’s doctor last year, when she got into the accident. Angie told me he acted exactly the same.”

  Sam’s eyes opened wide. That was him? He dug far into his mind, trying to recall the doctor that evening and the words Charlie had said to him.

  “I learned two things in knowing you, Aaron. The first is that I’m a waste of a human being…the second was to never trust anyone…”

  Sam dug his phone out of his pocket on the way out of the restaurant and dialed.

  “Yes, I need the listing for a Doctor Aaron Paulson near Minneapolis, please.”

  Chapter Five

  “So you said on the phone yesterday that you needed to speak with me over an u
rgent matter,” said Doctor Paulson, leading Sam into a sterile office inside a small clinic. “What can I help you with?”

  “I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about the adult effects of emotional abuse as a child,” Sam said, sitting down. The office was decorated in neutral tones. A small picture frame atop the desk, the curtains, and the chairs offered splashes of blue around the otherwise dull room.

  Dr. Paulson’s brow furrowed as he let out a sigh. “I’m afraid you must have me mistaken for another doctor. I don’t specialize in psychology.” He stood, reaching for Sam’s hand. “I’m sorry you came all the way down here only to be disappointed that I don’t have the answers you need. But if you’d like, I can refer you—”

  “No. There’s no mistake. You’re exactly who I was looking for.” Sam stared at the doctor’s hand as it retreated to his pocket.

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  Sam’s face shifted and his chin dipped downward. “Sit down, please,” he said. Quickly, the doctor took his seat again and cocked his head to one side, waiting for Sam to clarify. “I know you don’t specialize in psychology. But I’m in a slight situation here that needs your clarification.” By this point, Sam had chewed the inside of his cheek to a raw pulp. Gathering his strength to tame his anger, he clenched the arms of the chair and took a deep breath. “Let me sum this up for you: An impressionable young girl, in her high school days, gets bullied and picked on by just about everyone at school. It devastates her, gives her bouts of depression, and she even attempts suicide once or twice. I just wanted your best assessment on what might happen to a girl like that as she becomes an adult. It’s Psychology 101.”

  Unaware of who Sam was or his affiliation with Charlie, the doctor offered all the information he had on the subject. “The mind is a strange place. We as doctors know a lot, but not enough. What little I do know about psychology probably won’t be beneficial to you, but I would imagine it depends on how this young lady handled her experiences, whether or not she received any therapy, and if she had strong family support. Everyone’s mind processes things differently. For example, if you were to fall off your bike as a child, you may just get right back on the next day, taking very little courage to do so. But for someone else, they may never ride a bike again.”