Storytime with P. Meggy "The Only Exception"

Brian tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, and I leaned into his touch, not wanting the moment to end. I closed my eyes and pressed my hand against his, enjoying the warmth of his skin against mine. I didn't have to open my eyes, I could feel his gaze on me. Vaguely, I wondered if he was trying to read my soul. That was the first time that Brian kissed me.


I was sitting on our front porch swing, strumming on my acoustic. I remember calling it a silver string, because it was different and I liked it better that way. I would scribble in a beat up notebook whenever I was struck with inspiration. I thought I was in love at that time. It was the summer after my freshman year.


Brian's kiss was gentle, caring. It wasn't fierce, rushing, wanting. It was if he was afraid that being too fast or too rough would break me to pieces, and I knew he would do anything to keep that from happening. But Brian couldn't know that inside I was already torn up, there was nothing he could do about it. It was far too late for that.


Mom and Dad were fighting again. I didn't think much of it, in fact, I was trying to block it out. But, then I heard a crash from inside and that caught my attention. I just went in to check, to make sure everyone was alright. Mom's face was white and she was teary eyed, the remains of a china plate rested at her feet. Dad stood on the other side of the counter, and even though his face was red with anger, he couldn't look her in the eye. "I don't have a problem, Carol. I don't need help."


I pushed Brian away, and hugged my knees to my chest. I shut my eyes against the pain of the memories as they flooded back. But that wouldn't stop it, the tears would still come, I knew. They always did. 


Mom stared at Dad for a long time, and then she turned, picked up her keys and purse from the counter, and walked out the door. Dad followed her, and I was close behind. "Carol, come back." he said at first, but his protests became weaker and weaker the farther we went. "Carol, please." Mom unlocked the doors of her minivan and turned around. She looked at Dad and then glanced at me.
"I'm sorry, Katie." She said, as she got in the van and drove away.


I felt Brian's arms go around me, and I heard him asking quietly "Kate, what's wrong? Kate?"


Sophomore year. I had written him a song. He smiled at me, and I got butterflies in my stomach. He told me how beautiful my song was, how beautiful I was, how beautiful my voice was, and all those lies. At that point, I did anything to be away from the house, where Dad was either suffering withdrawals or the opposite. I believed his lies at the time, because I wanted to believe them. That night was the worst night of my life.


"I can't do this." I told Brian, and pushed him away again. I collected myself as much as possible and stood to go.
"I'm not asking you to do anything, Kate, please..."


I remember my beaten up, overused, tattered notebook. The way it smelled, the stickers I stuck on the outside, the pages covered in song lyrics. I remember the way they burned.


"Kate, listen to me." Brian grabbed my arm, and I stopped and turned to him. "I know your family had trouble when growing up. I know that you went through a lot. Every family has problems, and yours was just one of them. But, I'm not your father, Kate. I'm not 'that guy.'" He looked me in the eyes and he knew I knew what he meant. His voice cracked as he said, "Kate, I love you."
I kissed him, then, and held him as tight as I could. When I reached up and touched his cheek, it was wet. I took a step back and stared at him in amazement for a moment. I felt like I healed a little bit, inside. The band-aid that had once simply covered those scars were replaced with a few neat stitches. And you know what I did? I kissed him again.