I had tried to text Taylor several times about what had happened, but I had got no response.
I had no idea what I had done to make her run away, but as the hours turned to days, I felt as if I had caused some unknown problem. I ran through the events of that night in my head, over and over, but I couldn't think of what I had done to upset her so much.
Dr. Morgan wasn't much help either.
Sitting across from me with a mix of pity and confusion marring her features, the Doctor leaned forward across the dark wood of the desk and patted my hand. "These things are never easy, and I apologize if my advice made things worse between the two of you."
I shook my head. "It wasn't your fault, you couldn't have known." The words felt hollow, thick in my throat. I knew, in the grand scheme of things, that people come and go. I had lost many friends when I left my parent's house and broke away from the religion I'd grown up in. I was no stranger to the ebb and flow of companionship in this life.
But yet, Taylor's abrupt departure that day still left a bad taste in my mouth. There was something that was missing, some context I just didn't have. I had a feeling that Kayce Richards had the answers I was looking for, but I was afraid to approach her considering how poorly things had gone so far.
Dr. Morgan's expectant look pulled me out of my reverie. Studying her features I realized I'd missed something she had said, lost in my thoughts. I shifted in the uncomfortable armchair, trying to collect myself.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that, please?" I flushed, cursing myself for being so distracted today.
"I was asking you how you've been feeling recently about going to college soon. How you're planning on balancing school and work." The older blonde gave me a sympathetic smile, knowing I was going through a lot right now.
I had, truthfully, been procrastinating on that train of thought. I was excited to start school, but working so frequently, on top of spending time with Kris and Taylor had been leaving me feeling worn out. Adding school to that delicate balance concerned me.
"I don't really know. I'm worried about trying to balance working full time and going to school." The pills on my sweatshirt were suddenly very interesting as I struggled to look anywhere but at the doctor.
"I wish I could tell you that it gets easier, but it doesn't. You just get better at managing the chaos." Dr. Morgan gazed out of the window, her eyes swirling with memories. No doubt remembering when she was in a similar situation.
My mind wandered back to Taylor as I turned to stare at the potted plant in the corner of the room. "I just don't understand. She just... left. She's flirted with me for so long.. the one time I lean into it, she left!" I knew Maria just wanted to talk about my mental health, but I couldn't focus on anything else.
She sighed. "Luna, I know this is bothering you, but we can't change what happened. No matter how many times you overthink it, nothing you do at this point will make her come back. If she does talk to you again, that will be your chance to find out what happened. Until then, worry about your goals and ambitions." Her voice was firm, resolute. I usually appreciated her no-nonsense nature, but today, it was really getting on my nerves.
I bit back a few snippy reports and tried to focus on the task at hand. I had been so upset about Taylor, I hadn't had time to write anything in my notebook for this session. "What should I write about?"
"It's your book, you can write about anything you want. Has anything else happened since we last spoke that you would like to talk about?" The drumming of her manicure on the desk told me I had better think of something soon. Our time was nearly halfway over.
'Uh, yeah. I'd really like to talk about Taylor and her ignoring me.'
I knew that wasn't the answer she was looking for, so instead I decided to tell her about the drama that had happened over the weekend.
December 8, 2014
Dylan Wooding was very slow to anger.
Unlike his two older siblings, Dylan didn't care to argue and usually avoided confrontation. However, when he did get mad, he was a force to be reckoned with.
I had come home Friday afternoon from a harrowing morning shift at BurgerByte to find Matt and Dylan screaming at each other. I heard their muffled yells as I made my way onto the porch.
"I'm not a little kid anymore!"
"Then stop acting like one, you little shit!"
As I walked into the living room, I could see them in the kitchen, nearly nose-to-nose. Dylan's chocolate brown eyes were ablaze with anger, drilling into his older brother. His lip was curled as he stared at Matt. Matt's fists were clenched and his wavy hair looked ruffled, as if he'd run his fingers through it one too many times.
Kris burst in the house from the car, an armful of groceries. She shuffled past me to break up the boys' argument, storming into the kitchen and pulling them apart.
I was reminded of a simpler time, when Matt was a gangly teenager with uneven patches of auburn facial hair and acne. Being nearly ten years apart in age, it wasn't unusual for the boys to disagree, but instead of them wrestling over a video game or what flavor of pizza rolls they wanted, the Wooding boys were engaged in a battle of wills. Kris had always been the one to break them up; the voice of reason between the occasional testosterone-driven conflict.
"Enough! What are you two morons on about now!?" Kris snarled. She looked like a lion, her regal ginger curls floating around her. She looked between her brothers expectantly. Dylan was usually the first to apologize and come to a solution, but today the younger ginger was not in the mood for making amends.
Matt was the first to heed her unspoken warning, backing up and crossing his arms. "Dylan wants to start working after school. I told him he needs to focus on his studies. Hell, he might be the first one of us to go to college at this rate!"
I tried not to be hurt by that comment. Whilst I was not biologically related to the Woodings, I did consider them my family. His exclusion did nothing to help my feelings of being an outsider amongst them. I looked down at the peeling laminate, wishing I could sink into the yellowing fake tile.
I hated confrontation at the best of times, which was ironic considering my temper. I guess the better way to put it is I hated other people's conflict. I debated hiding in my room, this conversation didn't concern me and I doubted they would miss my presence in this argument.
Dylan's retort startled me out of my inner monologue, the usually level-headed teen was shaking with barely-controlled rage. "I don't WANT to go to college! I want to go to a trade school and do something with my hands, like you do!" His chest was heaving and I could tell he was having a hard time keeping up his bravado.
Matt bristled. "No, you don't! It is hard work, dirty work, with low pay and bullshit bosses. You think your little sissy self could handle working out in the heat for 12 hours a day?" He gestured wildly as he spoke, fury etched in his features.
Kris rounded on Matt in an instant. "MATTHEW! That is not necessary!" She snapped, turning on her heel to face Dylan. "You need to stay in school, Dylan. It's not up for discussion."
Dylan glared at Kris, taking a step towards her. "I don't want to quit school, I said I could pick up a job after I get off the bus. Old Man James down the road has already offered to help me learn how to do electrician work as his apprentice."
Dylan was no stranger to our financial struggles. He had seen the toll that the endless shifts had caused on his siblings. While I could see why Kris and Matt wanted Dylan to focus on his school, I couldn't help but agree that Dylan working would help improve our dire circumstances.
"No! You will not be working after school, you can wait until you're 18 and graduated to take on a job. School comes first, I will not have you getting overwhelmed and dropping out." Kris reached a hand to the bridge of her nose, massaging the area. Her tone was firm and resolute, warning him not to pry further.
Her dismissal of the younger ginger made him even angrier and he got eerily quiet.
"Why? Because you did?" Dylan sneered.
I saw the look on Kris' face before Matt did and took a step towards her to stop what I knew was coming. I was too late.
The sound of a slap rang out throughout the silence of the house.
Dylan touched his face in shock as Kris stormed out of the trailer, slamming the screen door so hard I thought the rusted hinges would pop off. We heard her minivan tear out of the driveway as Matt looked at his younger brother.
"Too far, Dylan."
I slid my notebook across the desk. As Dr. Morgan read, I fidgeted with a lock of hair hanging in front of my face. I glanced out the window, watching the cars scurrying back and forth across the main road. Occasionally, the geriatric light outside would turn red and the cars would slow to a halt. I wondered where some of them were going and made up little backstories in my head to pass the time.
After a few moments of silence, Dr. Morgan looked over her glasses at me. "It can't be easy watching people you love fight like that." Her slate grey eyes were searching mine for something, but I wasn't sure what.
I shook my head, picking at a hangnail. "No. I know Matt and Kris mean well, but Dylan just wants to help out. He know we're struggling just like I do. He hates being treated like a child." I turned my attention back to the window, noticing Kris' van was now at the stoplight.
She was fifteen minutes early, which was odd. She must have gotten off early to pick me up. I could hear Dr. Morgan talking to me, but I was fixated on the champagne colored minivan, watching as the light turned green and she began to make her turn into the parking lot.
Out of nowhere, a black dodge truck ran the red light and plowed right into the drivers' side of the van. The squeal of the tires and the loud sound of metal colliding made my heart fall into my stomach.
I screamed.
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