I Wish I Could Love You (PG-13)

Trigger Warning: parental abuse, mention of mature themes

I wanted to love you freely. I really did. But I can’t. I can’t. 

Melanie Stevens sits on the old shag rug in her run-down house. She clutches a photograph covered in her oily fingerprints. The picture is of a boy, and on the back of the picture is a name scrawled in black pen. Henry.

They met last year, and Henry fell in love with her. Melanie wants so badly to be able to love him back, but her parents hate him, just because he is Asian. 

But making love forbidden only strengthens it, and Melanie sometimes drowns in memories of Henry. Days like today, where she holds onto the photo like a lifeline, trying not to cry. 

Henry lives on the other side of the state, and he is waiting for her, he said. Melanie just has a few more weeks and then she is 18 and can go to him. If they disown me, I don’t give a damn.

Footsteps in the creaking corridor alert Melanie to her mother’s presence. She hides the photo very well, because it’s the only thing that matters. She stows it under a loose floorboard under the bed, with a false bottom. 

Her mom bursts into the room, and Melanie wipes her face clean of emotion, something she’s gotten good at. No tears betray her today, and she thinks she looks almost bored. Her mother holds a broomstick and wears an angry look. “What are you doing, child?” 

“Nothing, Mother.” Melanie says impassively. 

“Not drinking, are you?” 

“Of course not, Mother.” Two years ago she would be horrified at the question, but now she feels a strange emptiness in her heart. 

Her mother looks suspicious. “Then you’re on drugs.” 

“No I’m not, Mother.” 

“Don’t talk back to me, idiot child!” 

Melanie’s heart strains. “I’m not, Mother. Search me.” 

Her mother leaves. 

Melanie sits on her creaky bed and picks up her cracked phone. She’s had it since she was fourteen years old, and once, her father got so angry he threw it on the floor when he was really drunk, hence the crack. 

She wishes she could call Henry. She could, and then delete his contact, like she’s done a few times. Yes, she will. Her hands shaking, she dials. It’s a good time, because her father is out gambling, and her mother is cleaning. 

As soon as the call connects, she deletes the contact, leaving no trace she called him. “Henry.” she whispers, pressing the phone to her ear, flinching at the sight of her bruised forearm. She got it when she took a granola bar from the kitchen late at night. 

“Mel, my love. How are you?” he replies, talking quietly. There was an unfortunate incident once, where they both talked too loud and her dad slapped her across the face while he was still on the line. 

“I’m good. I got my acceptance letter at the university you're going to. I can’t wait to live with you, and get away from my parents. What about you, Henry?” She wishes she could say ‘my love’, like he did, but it wasn’t safe. 

“I’m happy, as happy as I can be. Just a few weeks, love. See you soon, Melanie.” 

“Bye.” Melanie hangs up and tries not to grin. It’s late now, and her dad will be home soon. She pulls on some jeans instead of her skirt and goes to greet him, which she dreads. 

Her mother stands in the dimly lit kitchen, cooking spaghetti, while her dad unlocks the door. Mr. and Mrs. Stevens hug briefly in the doorway before Mr. Stevens locks the front door. He is short, but muscular, with a scraggly beard. “Your mother texted me that you were on drugs in your room.” he says.

Melanie forces herself to keep staring at her father. “I wasn’t, Father. If I was on crack my pupils would be huge, and they aren’t. And I’m not high. You would tell if I was.” 

Not used to Melanie saying all this at one time, Mr. Stevens takes a step forward. Melanie tries not to flinch as he forces her face upward, staring at her eyes. “She isn’t high, Miriam.” he says to Mrs. Stevens. “She’s probably just drunk. Or pregnant.” 

Melanie’s parents snicker, and Mrs. Stevens sneers “Did you get laid? Lemme guess, from that ugly boy Henry?” 

“I didn’t sleep with anyone, Mother.” Melanie says quietly. And he’s not ugly. I don’t want to make love yet, and Henry respects that, she thinks.

Mr. Stevens waves her off. “I think she’s just moody ‘cuz she’s on her period.” 

Melanie bites back her rage. She isn’t on her period. She says calmly “Maybe I’m not in a bad mood, or on drugs, maybe I’m sick of you son of a-” she stops before she can curse. That would guarantee a cigarette burn on her stomach. 

Mr. Stevens slowly turns around, and Mrs. Stevens pierces the air with her cold look. “What did you say?” Mr. Stevens hisses. “You stupid, foolish child. You’re lucky we fed you and clothed you. We’re not paying for college. Not a chance. You’re on your own.” 

He unloops his belt from his pants and brandishes it. “Wait, Frank! I want to do it this time.” Mrs. Stevens interrupts, walking forward. “You do it usually, but I know what pisses her off.” 

Mr. Stevens goes to the couch and lights a cigarette. Melanie remembers when her parents were kind, when her dad used to go to work. He used to pretend his cigarettes were magic wands, and her mother made her cookies everyday. It’s gone now. 

Mrs. Stevens goes into the kitchen and returns with a rolling pin. “Pull up your shirt!” she demands, holding up the rolling pin. “I’m not going to hit hard enough to break your back, but hard enough for you to understand that if you have drugs, you need to give them to us.”

Melanie lifts up her shirt, trying not to expose her bra. Her mother brings down the rolling pin on her bare back, making a flash of pain. It goes on like that for several minutes, to the point where Melanie is causing her lip to bleed as she tries not to whimper. Finally she does let out a pitiful sound. Her mother grabs her hair and pulls her head back, until their faces are level. She then smacks her daughter across the face, and Melanie’s face is stinging. 

Melanie’s instincts take over and she shoves her mother out of the way, her shirt falling back down normally. She runs to her room and slams the door, locking it. After months of not crying, of putting on a normal face, a tear slides loose. Her back and face are stinging, and her hands are shaking as she lifts up her shirt to check on her back. She looks in the mirror and almost cries out. Her back is beginning to bruise, covered in purple and black. “Holy fu-” 

Then she starts crying, crying like rain. Henry, I can’t do this. I can’t. Not for another few weeks. They think I’m pregnant. Or on drugs. 

She glances at her two suitcases, already packed and ready to go. She’s been packing for weeks, taking things out and washing them and putting them back in. A crazy idea begins to form in her head. I could ask Henry to come and get me. 

She adds his contact back and texts frantically ‘Henry come and get me I need to go I can’t live here anymore please.’ 

Within seconds, a reply appears on the screen. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming. I’ll be there, love. See you in about three hours. Do you think you can sneak out at around 3 am? That’s when I’ll get there, I’m already in the car.’

‘I think so, Henry. Thank you so much. I love you.’ 

‘🙂’ 

Melanie sighs with relief, and finishes packing up her bag. She stuffs her phone charger, several books, and a neck pillow in her backpack and puts her stuff by the door. She then replies to the text. ‘My mom hit me with a rolling pin on my back, I can barely move.’

It isn’t the first time she mentions her parent’s punishments, but she’s never given details. 

‘I’m so sorry, Mel. When we get to my place I’ll take care of you, love.’ 

Melanie shuts her phone off after setting her classic music alarm, which had never woken up her parents before, since they always drank too much on the nights her dad went gambling, like tonight. She slides into bed and tries to sleep, but her back throbs.

Next thing she is aware of is her alarm going off. She stares outside at the early morning darkness and quietly wheels her luggage to the door. She sees Henry’s red car pull up. She unlocks the door after writing a quick note and grins upon seeing Henry’s face. The moonlight gleams on Melanie’s hair as she hurries towards the car, her back killing her. 

Henry gets out and they just embrace, kissing. Melanie winces at her back. “I’ll show you when we get to your house, love.” she says, and Henry puts her luggage in his trunk. His beautiful almond shaped eyes fasten again on how Melanie holds herself, as if she is in great pain, which she is. 

Melanie gets in the passenger seat and the car peels away, Melanie’s house disappearing. 

****

Four hours later…

Melanie wakes up in a soft bed, Henry staring over at her. “Show me where it hurts.” he says softly.

Melanie nods and gets out of the bed, standing in front of Henry. She tries to hide her bruised forearms as she reaches to lift up her shirt, but Henry grabs her wrist and runs his hand on the few-day-old bruises. “Oh my love, what happened? Take your time, show me everywhere they hurt you and why.” 

“He hit me with a paperweight because I took a snack a few nights ago. They wouldn’t let me have seconds, and I was starving.” 

Henry grabs a bottle of gel and spreads it lovingly on her forearm. “I’m so sorry. Where next, honey?” 

Melanie lifts her hand up to her cheek. “My mom slapped me here last night because she said I was on drugs. But I wasn’t. I’ve never seen drugs. And before she finished off the punishment she hit me on the back with the rolling pin, like I said.” 

Henry spreads gel on her cheek and runs a hand through her hair. “You have to show me, so I can help you, Mel.” 

Mel nods and slowly turns around, taking off her shirt. He’d seen her in a bra before, but his breathing hitches. No, it isn’t because of her not wearing a shirt, it is because of the bruises. He runs his hand softly over, and they snake over her back for the size of two dinner plates. “Oh, Mel, why didn’t you call Child Protective Services? This isn’t punishment, this is child abuse.” 

“I couldn’t. They blocked the number on my phone. I tried. I did. Once I told the counselor at my school and they were really smooth. They are good at pretending.” Melanie whispers. “Now put the gel on, please. It feels like hell.” 

Henry spreads the gel over her back and bandages all three spots. Then Melanie flees into his arms, not bothering to put her shirt back on. He is solid and warm, and Melanie finds solace in this seventeen year old that she has never found before. She kisses him, kisses him out of relief. “Oh, Mel,” Henry keeps whispering over and over. “I’m so sorry.” 

****

Three weeks later…

They are both eighteen now, since they coincidentally have their birthdays within days of each other. Melanie’s bruises are healed, and she doesn’t have any new ones. They are at the park, celebrating the summer warmth. Melanie makes to stand up to walk home, but Henry catches her arm. The love of her life, his eyes still make her shudder in happiness. 

His face is a face of joy as he says “Melanie, I love you. I love you so much. Will you marry me?” 

Melanie smiles, her eyes glinting with tears. After so long of hiding her emotions, she now fluently shows them. She has to think about his request. She loves him, loves him enough to make love with him, enough to bare her soul, and has done these two things over the past few weeks. He cares about her, will take care of her like he did with her bruises. Even when she got a paper cut, he carefully washed it and sprayed it with antiseptic spray. 

She would love to marry him, even if they just went to sign papers, but Melanie knows his family would throw a huge ceremony. So she squeaks out, close to bursting to tears “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I will marry you, Henry. I love you so much.” 

Henry picks her up and twirls her around, popping the engagement ring on her finger. 

****

One year later…

“Do you, Melanie Stevens, take Henry Chen to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"

“I do.” 

“Do you, Henry Chen, take Melanie Stevens to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"

“I do.” 

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

Henry kissed Melanie, kissed her so hard. They held hands and hurried out of the church. The sun was bright on their faces, and Melanie was wearing a beautiful red dress, because they had agreed to incorporate American and Chinese culture into the wedding. 

The sun glinted off of Melanie’s hair as she hugged Henry on the steps of the church. “I love you, Henry.” 

“I love you too, Melanie Chen.”