The sun was already beginning to set when the Monkeemobile reached the edge of Andi’s forest. As they entered the densely wooded area Mike drove carefully on the unpaved road; there was no illumination save for the narrow beams thrown by the car’s headlights.
Peter pointed, his finger grazing the windshield. “What’s that?”
“Andi’s truck.” The vehicle rested nearly on its side near a grove of trees, almost as if it had been yanked abruptly off the road. There were deep skid marks in the dirt to attest to the truck’s sudden halt.
Mike stopped the car and leaped out, running over to the truck, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t find Andi in it . . .
The truck’s front end was wrapped almost completely around a tree. The sight of the crumpled hood and shattered windshield caused Mike to howl in fear as he seized the driver’s side door and yanked it open.
The cab was empty.
“Mike! What’s wrong? Is she okay?” Peter came running up to him, Micky and Davy following close behind.
“She’s not here,” Mike said, slumping against the truck. After a few seconds he straightened. “C’mon, we gotta find her.” He ran off into the woods, the others bringing up the rear. The trip from the road to the beach normally took about ten minutes at a leisurely walk. At a dead run the Monkees made it down in three.
When they reached the beach they paused, gasping for breath. The houses were still there, though they had been boarded up. The life and the peace that had permeated the area before, however, was gone. They might as well have been standing in the middle of a vacant lot.
“Jeez, this place is dead,” Micky muttered.
Mike ignored him, his eyes scanning for Andi.
“Look, there she is,” he said, taking off once again. Andi was curled up at the base of a tree, her head slumped between her shoulders as she rested her chin on her knees. She didn’t move as Mike ran up, skidding onto his knees by her side. He announced his arrival by throwing his arms around her and hugging her tight.
“Mike? What are you doing here?” she asked. She was clearly displeased but didn’t push him away.
“What happened to your truck? You could’ve been killed!” He had long ago given up any pretense of trying to hide his emotion--he wanted her to know how much she had scared him.
“But I wasn’t. I was driving and I lost control. The crash looked worse than it was. I’m fine.”
“You probably pushed that old thing too far,” he said. “We told you about that.”
She straightened. “And I told you not to follow me. Why did you?”
“Why do you think?”
She turned away. “Look, this time I mean it. You don’t want me. Just leave.”
Mike grabbed her by the shoulders and wrenched her around. “How am I--how are WE supposed to do that? You’re a part of me now! I can’t just go off and pretend like I don’t know you!”
She leaped to her feet, residual pain causing her to wince slightly. “But I almost KILLED you! How can I go back after that?” She looked up to see Peter, Micky, and Davy approaching. Her face contorted in an odd mixture of grief, guilt, and anger.
“I can’t change what I did!” she howled, fists clenched. “I took something wonderful and special and RUINED it! God, I wish this never happened! I wish you never met me!”
Mike charged to his feet and came up behind her. “That’s a lot of bull! You’re just bein’ selfish again!”
Andi whirled. “Michael Nesmith, don’t you raise your voice to me! You weren’t attacked for no bloody reason and left to die like some animal!” She yanked up her shirt, displaying her scar. “You’re not going to have to carry THIS for the rest of your LIFE as a reminder of your weakness!”
The two stood glaring at each other, sparks crackling between them. The others looked from Andi to Mike and back again, each wondering who would back down first. Andi stared deeply into Mike’s eyes, trying to burn every ounce of her outrage and pain into his retinas. He stared right back, his face cast in stone--unyielding and morbidly determined.
To Mike’s utter surprise, Andi backed down. She lowered her head, her ebony hair obscuring her features. “I can’t protect you. I can’t even take care of myself.”
Mike gripped her shoulders, gently this time. “Look . . . first of all, you don’t have to protect us all the time. We can take care of ourselves.”
She snorted. “Of course you can. That’s why I found you in a porpoise tank.”
Peter stepped forward, cringing slightly as Andi fixed her disturbed gaze upon him. “Yeah, and . . . we should be allowed to protect you once in a while. That’s what being family is all about.”
Her dark eyes went wide. “Family?” she whispered, stunned.
“Yeah,” Davy said. “We’re a family now, whether you like it or not.”
“And that means,” Micky added, “you can’t just leave.”
“But how am I supposed to come back after all I did to you? How can you ever forgive me?”
“Easy,” Mike said. “We just did.”
She shook her head. “I’m going to need some time to think about this. I don’t know if I can handle this right now.”
“Take all the time you need,” Mike said, stubbornly crossing his arms. “We’re not leavin’ without you. You’re not gonna run any more.”
“So that’s it, is it?”
“Yeah, it is.” Mike looked at his friends. “Right, guys?”
Three nods responded. Andi looked at them, shock, bewilderment, and fracture warring for control of her features. She stammered for a few moments before regaining control of her voice. “But how can I? What happens if I have another nightmare and try to hurt one of you? What if I succeed?” She buried her face in her hands. The tears were starting to flow and she was powerless to stop them. “I just want my life back!”
A month’s worth of pain flooded out of her in a few moments. She began trembling with tears, and Mike reached out, gathering her into his arms. He held her tightly as her defenses finally broke down. For the third time in her life she began to cry, releasing heaving, tremulous--and audible--sobs. She raged and wailed against herself and all she had done--and all she had become.
Her knees weakened and gave way, but before she could fall another pair of arms slipped around her, holding her up. With her face buried against Mike’s shirt Andi could not tell who it was, but the grip told her instinctively that it was Peter. Another pair of arms wrapped around her, then another, until she was surrounded on all sides by eight arms and four warm bodies. Instead of shaking them off she allowed them to support her, feeling her frustration and anger melting away with each passing moment of the quadruple embrace.
My family, she thought. My family.
“Okay, boys,” she whispered. “I’ll come back.”
~*~
“Mike, don’t take this wrong way, but I think that was a little too easy.”
Mike was leaning against a tree, still trying to recover from all the emotion they had been witness to. Micky had wandered over to his side nearly a half hour before, and the two watched silently as Peter took up his station at Andi’s side--her dutiful little brother once more. This time, however, she didn’t shy away from his attention. Instead she leaned against him, listening quietly to whatever he seemed to be telling her.
“It’s not over, Mick. She’s still got a long way to go, but . . . I think she’s finally going to let us help her. I guess some people have trouble with that.”
“Like you, right?”
Mike shot him a stern look. “Careful, shotgun. You might just find yourself walking back home tomorrow.”
Micky held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.” He lapsed back into silence.
“Micky, you are never this quiet. What’s wrong?”
Micky shrugged. “I still feel bad about what I said to her.”
“Then go apologize,” Mike said. At Micky’s hesitation he added, “Man, just go on. It’ll be fine.”
Micky sighed, gathering up his courage. He walked over to Andi and gently tapped her on the shoulder.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?” he said.
“Sure. If you’ll excuse me?” she said to Peter.
“But of course,” Peter replied, giving Micky a supportive grin.
Andi turned and began to walk down the beach, Micky keeping an even pace beside her.
“So . . . spill it,” she said, almost as if she knew what he was going to say.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you.”
“And what did you say?”
“Huh?” Micky was taken aback. Had she forgotten?
“What did you say? I don’t remember you saying anything that warrants an apology.”
He hesitated, his heart pounding far more fiercely than it should have been. “Well, I mean, that night . . . when I left the room and said . . . that I didn’t want my throat cut.”
“What about it?”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes you did.”
Micky swallowed, his throat suddenly tightening. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Listen, Micky. Let me save you a lot of trouble. I understand why you said what you did. I was acting strangely and you were scared. I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t hurt me, but it’s not as if you didn’t have a reason. I forgive you. Consider it over and done with.”
Micky sighed with relief. Then he paused and gave her a curious look. “Man, why can’t you forgive yourself that easily?”
Andi arched her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I mean, you forgave me so quickly . . . why can’t you forgive yourself?”
She stared intently at the sand, weighing the truth of what he said. “I . . . I . . . I don’t have an answer for that one.”
Micky gripped her shoulders. “Look, even Mike says that what you did was an accident. He knows that you didn’t do it on purpose, and that it was partly his fault. You had a sword in your hands and he snuck up behind you. Not a smart thing to do.”
Andi nodded. It was, after all, the truth.
“Okay, so . . . it’s time to stop blaming yourself.”
Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She looked into Micky’s eyes. “Now why can’t you act like this all the time?”
He laughed and gave her a brotherly hug. “Come on, babe, you know that would ruin my reputation.”
On to Chapter Eleven
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