Nikki's Heart Page 3

  “Take it off,” My mother yelled. Her face was inches from mine. I turned away as she tried to smack my cheek; she got my ear instead. My head was filled with a ringing, and white spots danced in front of my eyes. She kept hitting me over and over again.

  “Mom, stop!” I screamed. “Stop, you’re hurting me!”

  But she didn’t stop. She grabbed me by my shirt and lifted me off of the floor, only to push me back down again. My head bounced off of the floor once, twice, three times. I was going to black out. The whole world was going black. I was sure she wouldn’t stop until she killed me.

  I was screaming and screaming, but she wouldn’t stop. Somehow I managed to get my arms up, and I shoved her as hard as I could. She flew backwards into my vanity table, smacking her head on the chair. I jumped off of the floor before she could recover and ran for the door.

  That’s when I saw Chris. He was standing there, leaning on the door with a beer in his hand. There was a disgusting smile on his face. Suddenly I was filled with rage. How could he just stand there while she did that to me? Why hadn’t he tried to stop her? I ran for the door, ready to hit him if he didn’t move. He casually stepped out of the way. I ran out of the house and up the street, sure my mother would follow me.

  I ran to the end of the next block before I stopped. I looked over my shoulder, expecting my mother to tackle me to the ground. She wasn’t following me; the block was empty.

  I bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. The cold air slashed at my lungs like a sharp knife, and my whole body was trembling. It was thirty-two degrees outside, and I wasn’t wearing a coat or shoes. God, I was cold. I just stood there shivering, too cold to move. Suddenly there were headlights in my face. I felt like a trapped deer, I couldn’t move. I just knew it was my mother, even though it was coming from the other direction, and I was convinced she was going to run me over. Still I couldn’t move. The car came up beside me, and the driver slammed on the brakes.

  I screamed.

  “Nikki? Oh my God, Nikki, what’s wrong?” It was Cody. He was beside me, putting his arms around me. “Are you okay? Nikki, what happened?”

  I buried my face in his shoulder and bawled. He struggled out of his coat without letting me go and wrapped it around me.

  “We have to go,” I whimpered. “We have to get out of here before she comes.”

  Somehow he got me in the car, and wrapped his jacket around me. He climbed in the front seat and adjusted the heat to full blast. He said nothing as he put the car in gear and drove away. He pulled into the park and turned to me.

  “Tell me, Nikki,” he said softly. “I want to know everything.”

  Four

  It’s getting dark outside; the words are harder to see. I tap the touch lamp on my nightstand, filling the room with light. There are wet spots on the journal and when I touch my cheek, I feel tears. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

  The memory of that night is still fresh in my mind. I can almost feel the ache in my chest and the pounding in my head as I spilled it all to Cody. I can practically smell his cologne, as when my face was buried in his shoulder. He held me so tight that night, trying to make sense out of what I was saying.

  When I had spilled my heart and could control my sobs, I looked up at him. His beautiful grey eyes were dark with anger, and his jaw was clenched. For a moment I had been afraid of him, even though I knew he wasn’t angry with me. He grabbed me and held me to his chest, and he was crying, too.

  I will never forget how wonderful his arms felt that night. I felt so safe with him. I savored the way his heart beat against my cheek. I will never be able to erase that powerful feeling of love from my mind.

  It was at that moment I realized how much I loved Cody. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Most people say I am too young to experience true love. They say I will experience love hundreds of times before I get married. That is not true, though. Cody was my soul mate. I knew it, and so did he. We were meant to be together. We were meant to be one.

  As I sit on my bed with fresh tears running down my cheeks, I know this. When Cody left, he took my heart with him. He also took my will to live and every ounce of happiness I have ever known. I may be normal again someday, and maybe I will even get married. I will never forget him, though. I will never love anyone as completely as I loved Cody. As I love Cody.

  I’ve never told anyone this, but sometimes I dream about Cody. He’s just as I remember him, and we sit and talk like he never left. He tells me I should go on with my life and that he’s worried about the way I am always sad. I cry and tell him I don’t want to go on without him, and then he cries, too. We talk like he is still here. We discuss everything.

  When I wake from these dreams, I’m so excited! I can’t wait to pick up the phone and call him. Sometimes I even get out of bed and grab the phone, before I realize it was just a dream. Then everything comes rushing back to me, and suddenly I’m empty. I sit and cry my heart out. For days I am depressed and alone. The pain of losing him is fresh all over again.

  My life had meaning when Cody was in it. I could handle those horrible moments with my mother because I knew he would make me feel better. Now I have nothing. No reason to care.

  I pick the journal up and force myself to read. I cannot linger on such dark thoughts.

  December 5

  I wonder how long I will be able to hide from my mother. I should be home now, doing my homework for tomorrow. I don’t know why I didn’t grab my backpack yesterday when I went to get clothes. I guess I just wanted to get out of there before Mom showed up. At least I grabbed my journal.

  I am at my dad’s house. I have been hiding here in my room since I got here. I told Mandi I didn’t feel well, so she has kept everyone away. She doesn’t believe me, though; I can tell by the way she looks at me.

  Sometimes I wish I could just tell Mandi everything. What a relief it would be. I can’t do that, though; she would feel like she had to tell my dad, and he would have a coronary or something. I know he would come down on my mom. I know she deserves to have that happen, but what would happen to me? I would be forced to move in here. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad and Mandi and the twins. But this isn’t my home. Things are so different here. My dad is always worried about me when I am here, like he is afraid I might not come back if I’m unhappy. He acts different to the twins when I’m around, too, as though I might get jealous. I know that bothers Mandi, even though she tries not to show it. Maybe if I didn’t like Mandi, I wouldn’t care. I do like her, though, a lot. I don’t want to disrupt their lives.

  December 6

  My mom called last night to find out why I hadn’t come home yet. Mandi told her I was in bed sick, and of course Mom didn’t believe that. Why should she, though? It’s her fault I’m still here. She knows that. She told Mandi I better be home by the time she gets off work today, or she would come and get me. Mandi was mad. She told Mom I would be there if that was what I wanted and slammed the phone down. I wish she wouldn’t have done that, but I didn’t say anything. Mandi said I could stay as long as I want, whether my mom likes it or not. It was almost like she was daring Mom to show up. I made her bring me home anyway.

  So I am once again hiding in my bedroom, waiting for the wrath of my mother. It is nine-thirty at night, and she still hasn’t made it home. Not that I’m complaining.

  My homework is done, and I am already in bed. I skipped school today, but I know my mom will make me go tomorrow.

  December 7

  Mom charged into my room around one o’clock this morning with enough force to wake the dead. I forced myself not to move and keep my eyes closed. I expected her to wake me up, but she didn’t. She stood in the doorway watching me sleep for a few minutes, and then she just left. I snuggled deeper under the covers and cried myself to sleep.

  When I got up this morning, she was gone. She isn’t here now either, which is perfect for me. With any luck, she will avoid me forever.


  December 10

  Mom came home drunk tonight and looking for a fight. I know, what a surprise. I called Cody and asked him to meet me at the gas station a few blocks from here. I packed a bag and snuck out of my bedroom window. My mom probably had a fit when she realized I disappeared. I hope she doesn’t figure out how I went out, because she would probably put bars on all of the windows.

  I am at my dad’s house now, and I am sure my mom will be calling to make sure. Cody stayed with me for a long time, and he only left when he was sure I wouldn’t go back home.

  Mandi invited Cody back tomorrow, to help decorate the Christmas tree. Of course he accepted. Wasn’t that sweet of her to include him in our family like that?

  December 11

  Can you believe Mandi bought a stocking for Cody? I mean, how sweet is that? And Cody showed up holding a plate full of fresh baked cookies. He claimed to have spent the afternoon baking them with his mom. I would have loved to see that.

  Mandi is just great around Christmastime. She goes way out with the decorations. She even has Christmas dishes and towels! And she has a tradition for when we decorate the tree. She makes hot chocolate for everyone, and puts a candy cane in it. We all sip hot chocolate and eat cookies while we work on the tree. Last year the twins had their hot chocolate in their bottles, this year it is their sippy cups.

  We had a lot of fun tonight. It was great watching Jaren and Jena get excited over little decorations. We had to lift them up to reach the high spots. Jena spent a half an hour wearing icicles as her hair.

  “I didn’t want to say anything in there, but have you heard from your mom?” Cody asked when I walked him to his car later.

  “No, believe it or not she hasn’t called.”

  “I guess that works, huh? My mom wants you to help us do our tree tomorrow, too, if you’re not busy. We always bake cookies at the same time, and I think she’s secretly hoping you will be better at it. She says I’m like a two-year-old when it comes to baking cookies. Can I help it cookie dough tastes so good?” He was laughing, and I love that lopsided smile of his.

  So tomorrow I get to decorate another tree. I wonder when Mom will want to put ours up.

  December 12

  It was a great weekend. I had a ball at Cody’s house. Trish and I had a wonderful time baking cookies, even though we had to keep smacking Cody’s hands. I’ve never seen anyone eat that much cookie dough. I am surprised it didn’t make him sick.

  They have the coolest tree; it is actually twelve feet tall! I have never seen a tree that big in someone’s house. Cody had to climb this huge ladder, to get the angel on top. It has to be the most beautiful tree I have ever seen.

  But all good things must come to an end right? Now I am back home, where I found my mother passed out on the couch and Chris sitting in a chair holding a bottle of Jack. He was deeply engrossed in the football game. Thankfully he barely looked up when I came in. I came straight to my room and locked the door. For good measure, I also wedged a chair under the door.

  Maybe if I focus on the good things about this weekend, I can forget about the drunks in the living room. Maybe I will be able to sleep without worrying about my mother barging into my room.

  December 16

  It has been almost two weeks since my mother and I have had any kind of conversation. It is hard to believe we never run into each other, even on accident. Once in a while she comes into my room in the middle of the night. When this happens, I stay completely still and pretend I am asleep. Usually she leaves once she realizes I’m asleep. Sometimes though, she stands there watching me. That is the scariest thing. I don’t know what she is thinking, and I am afraid she is going to drag me out of the bed or start screaming at me. Always when she is gone, I jump up and lock the door. I wonder if she knows I’m afraid of her. If she does, does it make her sad?

  Cody does not want to leave me at my house every afternoon. He is afraid my mother is going to just blow up when I walk in the door. He thinks she has a serious mental problem or something. I really can’t argue with him. I think there is something wrong with her, too. Also I think it is past time for a fight, and every day I am scared it is going to happen. I am spending the weekend at my dad’s house because I am afraid to stay home all weekend. During the week, at least I have school, and she has work. On the weekends, though, we are both at home. Hopefully I can get through one more day, and then I can go to Dad’s.

  I wonder if Dad and Mandi wonder why I have been spending every weekend at their house. If they do, they haven’t asked me about it. I used to only go there every other weekend. That was before my mother turned into a raging alcoholic, though.

  December 17

  The craziest thing happened at my house last night. About two o’clock this morning, I was woken up by the doorbell. I climbed out of bed and looked out of the window. There was a police car parked in the driveway. My heart fell to my toes, and I practically ran through the house. There were two policemen standing on the porch, with my mother between them. They were literally holding her up.

  “Do you know this woman?” One of them asked.

  I nodded. “She’s my mother.” The other officer was looking at me sympathetically.

  “Is your father here?”

  “He doesn’t live here.”

  “We found her passed out in front of the Sports Bar. Her I.D. gave this as her address.”

  “She was passed out outside?” How embarrassing.

  “Yes ma’am. We asked around, but no one claimed to be with her.” That was odd wasn’t it? She usually went out with someone. Well, she used to anyway. Nothing is the same anymore.

  “Where is her car?” I asked.

  “Don’t know,” The first cop said. “It’s a good thing she wasn’t driving it, though. She might have killed someone.”

  I nodded and moved out of the way. They put her gently on the couch; one of them even put a pillow under her head. They were nicer than I would have been. I could only stand there looking at her, full of disgust. I was embarrassed to be her daughter right then.

  “You’ll be alright?” one of the officers asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  “Does she do this often?”

  “Well no, she usually makes it home before passing out.” They caught my sarcasm.

  “Maybe she should get some help.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention that when she wakes up,” I answered dryly.

  “Look, we know how hard it is to help someone who doesn’t want help,” the first one said gently. “If we find her like that again, we’ll be forced to put her in the hospital.”

  I nodded. That would be the only way she would get help, but there was no point in telling them that. They probably knew it already.

  “How old are you?” one of them asked.

  “Sixteen.” He pulled a card from his wallet. “Hold on to this, and if you need anything, give us call.”

  I nodded, and led them to the door. When they were finally gone, I returned to the couch. For a minute I looked at the card in my hand. What could he expect to happen that I would need to call? It scared me. I watched my mother. She was all sprawled out on the couch, with her mouth hanging open. There was a wet spot on the front of her sweater, and she smelled like a brewery. I didn’t even have to be close to her to smell the alcohol this time. Her lipstick was smeared all of the way to her chin, and she had smudges of black makeup under her eyes. She was disgusting to look at. Man, she sure knows how to make a daughter proud.

  How could she let herself get so drunk she passed out in front of a bar? What kind of woman even gets that drunk in public? And who was she with; did she actually go to the bar by herself? Or did whomever she was with abandon her there when she got trashed?

  My mother has a serious problem. There is no doubt in my mind now that she needs help. I do not know what to do, though. She barely even talks to me anymore; I’m sure she won’t listen when I talk to her.

  Sometimes I am afr
aid to be alone with her. What will I do if she gets drunk and goes crazy on me? Next time I might not be able to push her off of me. I don’t understand how an alcohol problem can get this bad so fast. Just a few months ago, she hardly ever touched the stuff, and she certainly never got falling down drunk. She was just Mom then. I liked her better that way, even though we still didn’t get along. She never would have had me on the floor, beating the crap out of me then.

  I want to tell my dad, or at least Mandi. They could make her get help. I’m pretty sure they could. Mom would kill me, though. She would never forgive me. Maybe I should just move in with them and let Mom fend for herself. I am afraid of leaving her alone. What if something happened to her? Who would be here if the police brought her home again?

  I don’t even know why I still care.

  December 21

  I have not seen my mother since Sunday night. When I came in Sunday, she was on the couch channel surfing. As soon as she saw me, she got up and went to her room.

  Monday morning she was gone when I left for school. She hasn’t been back since.

  Naturally I wonder where she is. Christmas is in four days, and we don’t even have our tree up. We used to put it up together the day after Thanksgiving. I don’t have to go back to school until January, and we used to use this time for Christmas shopping.

  Now I sound selfish, though, and I’m not trying to be. I am worried about her. I have no idea where she is; maybe she is in the hospital. I hope she isn’t in jail. Maybe those policemen picked her up again. She would get a phone call, though, wouldn’t she? I would think she would call me, or at least have someone else call me. And those cops know I live here with her alone, wouldn’t they tell me?

  Again I don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to go to my dad’s house tomorrow, and stay until Christmas Eve. Dad and Mandi celebrate on Christmas Eve, so I can be with them because Mom insisted on having me on Christmas day. Should I just go, even if Mom doesn’t come back? If she is not here when I leave tomorrow, I will tell my dad. Maybe it would be for the best.