When Tomorrow Starts Without me

by Stacy Claflin

  We both know the answer to that.

  "Can I come in?" he repeats.

  I don't reply.

  Click, click, click.

  Relief washes through me that he took my lack of a no as a yes. I desperately want his comfort but can't ask for it.

  "I'm coming in."

  I don't protest.

  The door slowly opens over the plush mat. Rogan steps inside, his eyes closed. "Are you decent?"

  How can I find him adorable even while I feel so terrible?

  "Yes."

  He opens his eyes and looks around, his gaze finally landing on me. "What are you doing on the floor?"

  I shrug.

  He sits next to me and pulls his knees up close to his chest. "I can think of a thousand places more comfortable than this."

  "You're welcome to sit at any of those."

  "I only want to be here."

  What did I do to deserve a friend like him? I blink back tears.

  I'm so sick of crying.

  "Are you okay?"

  "I'm alive."

  He leans over and puts his ear to my chest. "That you are. You have a heartbeat and everything."

  I almost smile.

  "Do you want to get something to eat? It's late, and I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

  My stomach rumbles, but I'm in no mood to eat.

  "Miss Alice made nachos."

  My mouth waters—my traitorous mouth and stomach.

  "Who can say no to nachos?"

  "Not me."

  Rogan helps me up, and we plod downstairs at a pace that surely has to drive him crazy.

  My mind bounces back and forth between the family I grew up with and the family I was born into. The one memory I have is a happy one. That gives me hope.

  Maybe at some point I was loved. Wanted. My parents might have had big dreams for me. Why else would I have been on stage in front of such a huge crowd, wearing an obviously expensive dress?

  Rogan pulls a chair out for me, then sits next to me.

  Beep, beep, beep!

  I glance into the kitchen. Miss Alice turns off the timer, slides on oven mitts, then pulls out a steaming pan of colorful nachos from the oven.

  She didn't just throw chips on a dinner plate, dump some grated cheese on top, and stick it in the microwave? Wow, I'm in for a treat. Not that I should be surprised at this point. Luxury is the norm around here. And it's the perfect distraction from my thoughts.

  "Do I smell nachos?" Sutton appears in the dining room. "Miss Alice makes the best nachos ever." She smiles as she sits across from me, but it fades to a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

  I nod. Is my misery that obvious?

  She glances at Rogan, probably thinking she'll get a different answer.

  Luckily, Miss Alice brings in the steaming plates of nachos along with dishes full of guacamole, sour cream, and salsa.

  I reach for a heaping chip. "Thank you. This looks delicious."

  "You're very welcome, dear. I hope you enjoy. I'll be back with some drinks." She comes back a minute later with glass bottles of colorful pop. The writing on the bottles is in Spanish. It all feels so authentic—not that I'd ever traveled to Mexico to know if it is or not.

  Sutton talks about getting done with her exams and bemoans that it'll take most of the week. Rogan discusses practicing with the guys and trying to get back for another gig at Shenanigans.

  I mostly stay quiet, not really sure what my plans are for the week. I'll probably have to find a way to the coffee shop. They'll be expecting me tomorrow afternoon for my regular shift. I'd planned on them hearing of my demise and finding someone to cover my shifts.

  Now I need to figure out what to do with my life, or at least the summer.

  Kenna

  My heart beats erratically as the bus pulls up to the stop. I never thought I'd see any of these people—customers, coworkers, or superiors. It had been quite a relief thinking I never would.

  But here I am. After everyone other than Miss Alice had left the house, I'd walked to the bank and withdrawn enough from my meager savings for the bus.

  I still don't know what I'm going to do about my job. Rogan is pretty insistent that I just stay with them and enjoy my summer.

  Enjoy my summer. I don't even know the meaning of that. Summer has always just meant more time trying to avoid Theo. That's where working had always come in handy.

  I step off the bus and stare at the coffee shop. People are rushing in and out.

  My stomach twists. Some of the other baristas are friends with Theo. If they've heard of his arrest, will they blame me?

  Suddenly, quitting and spending the summer relaxing with Rogan and Sutton seems even more appealing than before. It'll also give me a few months to figure out what to do—assuming their mom doesn't mind me staying and eating her food.

  If she wants me to pay rent, I could always find work at a coffee shop closer to their house. It had taken me close to an hour by bus to get here.

  I stand taller and march into the shop, ready to give my notice. It's so busy inside that I will have to wait. I'll have to quit during a lull.

  Maya, the manager, waves me over. She's taking orders from a long line of customers. "Where have you been?"

  "The bus took longer than usual."

  She glares at me. "Well, leave earlier next time." Then she turns to the customer with a smile and hands him the change before turning back to me. "Here, make this."

  "Hold on. I have to put my stuff away and wash my hands."

  "Hurry up. We're short by two people today."

  I just nod but want to tell her she's lucky it's not three people out. Then I stick my hand-me-down purse into a locker in the back and get ready for a busy day.

  The afternoon flies by, giving me nothing else to think about other than making coffee.

  Finally, a lull. Before I can give my notice, Maya bolts outside to smoke and makes out with her boyfriend who works at the copy shop across the street.

  I make myself a minty iced tea and sit at a table near the back. Every muscle aches. I close my eyes and pretend I'm sipping tea on a tropical island instead of a crappy coffee shop with peeling paint two blocks from a strip club.

  The bell above the door jingles, but I ignore it as I imagine a pool boy fanning me. The other baristas can handle the customer. My break is nearly an hour late.

  Footsteps approach me. "Kenna!"

  My stomach twists into tight knots. I'd know that voice anywhere. I open my eyes to see the bleach-blonde with too much makeup who birthed Theo. "Liz."

  My stepmother glares at me. "You put Theo in jail!"

  Why didn't I see this coming? I'm totally unprepared to deal with her, especially after everything at the house yesterday.

  I stand, setting what's left of my tea on the table. "Let's not talk about this here."

  "What? You don't want people knowing you put your brother in jail?" Liz's voice grows louder with each word.

  Everyone's staring.

  I ignore my flaming face. Hopefully Liz doesn't take that as guilt. "This isn't the place."

  "Oh, should we go somewhere you'd be more comfortable? By all means, when my son is rotting in jail—because you put him there, you little whore!"

  If it wouldn't land me in jail, I'd punch her right here. I've dreamed of it so many times. Instead, I rise and step toward the door. "Outside, now."

  She grabs my arm and squeezes hard enough to leave marks. "You don't tell me what to do."

  I narrow my eyes at her and yank my arm away, but not before her nail scratches me. "And neither do you—not any more. I moved out, remember?"

  "I'm still your mother."

  "Stepmother."

  She snorts. "Your mom walked away, wanting nothing to do with you. I'm your only mom. But let's face it—not even I want you."

  "I'm done talking with you in here." I storm toward the door, humiliation and fury raging through me.

  Liz yanks me by my ponytail, stoppin
g me from pushing on the door. "Don't walk away from me."

  I pull my hair away from her grasp. "Leave me alone. You're nothing to me—none of you are! I only care about the parents who ever loved me. My birth parents."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "He didn't tell you he adopted me? Maybe you should worry more about your marriage than me!" I run outside before she can stop me again.

  "You're a worthless piece of trash! A whore that nobody cares about! You—" The door slammed shut, blocking me from hearing anything else.

  I race over to Maya, who has her tongue down her boyfriend's throat. "I quit!"

  She pulls away from him. "You can't! You have to give two weeks' notice."

  "I am, and no I don't. I'm not coming back. You're going to have to deal with it."

  Liz runs over, her face all red. "You better not ever try to come back home. I'll call the cops. And if I'm not home, Merle will call them. Stay away!"

  "Same goes for you if I ever see you again."

  "Have fun living on the streets. I give you a whole day before you come running back, begging for us to take your sorry butt back. You'll realize just how good you had it with us. You're nothing—you realize that, don't you? Nothing! None of your parents want you. Not one of us! You're just a pathetic piece of garbage. Just go work at Oasis." She glances at the strip club. "Not that they'd want you. You're too much of a whore for even them."

  Liz storms off, and all I can do is stare. I'm shaking, and my face is burning worse than inside the coffee shop. Both Maya and her boyfriend are wide-eyed.

  I clear my throat and swallow. "Like I said, I quit."

  Maya nods. "Okay."

  "And I want to be paid for all my work up through today."

  "Yeah, sure."

  I walk back to the coffee shop. It takes all my effort to hold myself together as I go into the back room to retrieve Sutton's purse from my locker. I clock out and leave without making eye contact with anyone.

  My entire body is shaking, and tears are threatening. I try to swallow the lump in my throat but it's pointless.

  Maya and her boyfriend are already back to sucking each other's faces and don't notice me as I pass. I hurry past Oasis, and Liz's words ring through my mind.

  I hate her. Not just her, but also Theo and Merle. All of them should be behind bars. They knew what he was doing to me. They knew!

  Tears blur my vision. I hate them too.

  They fall as I rush past one dilapidated building after another. I don't even care anymore. The only thing I want is to get back to Rogan's house. I'll stay there all summer if it means not having to see anyone from around here again.

  Eventually, the buildings become more spread apart and I come to a neighborhood no different from mine—my old one. Like I told Liz, I'll never be back. And I meant it.

  The hot summer sun beats down on me. Sweat drips down my spine and down my chest, pooling in my bra. My mouth is parched, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I pull my shirt out and try to fan myself for all the good that does.

  If I'd have thought this through, I'd have brought something to drink. Actually, I'd have gotten on the bus where I could at least sit, but the last thing I want is to be stuck in a smelly, hot sardine can for people on wheels.

  I come to the train tracks and can't take the heat any longer. Gasping for air, I crumple at the base of a tree, trying to drink in the shade.

  Liz's words ring through my head. So do Theo's and Dad's. The only people I've lived with for the majority of my life all hate me. They all think I'm less than worthless.

  I rest my forehead on my knees and sob.

  What if they're right?

  Can I ever really escape my past?

  A train horn sounds in the distance.

  Maybe I should finish what I started the other day.

  Rogan

  You nervous or something?" Lathe's voice brings me back to the present.

  We booked another gig at Shenanigans, and all I can think about is Kenna. When the band had taken our lunch break, I'd called home and Miss Alice had said she'd left, but didn't know where she'd gone.

  Now my mind keeps returning to her step-brother, despite the fact he's in jail. What if Kenna went back for the rest of her stuff? Her family is crazy.

  I turn to Lathe. "No, I'm not nervous. Are you?"

  He readjusts his guitar. "No."

  "Good. Let's get back to this, then. We've got to get these three new songs down pat."

  Ellis mutters something about how I need to speak to myself.

  I glare at him. "Do you have something to say to me?"

  "No, let's just do this."

  "Exactly." I turn to Ashton. "Start us off."

  We manage to get through the next few hours without incident. My mind keeps wandering back to Kenna, but I tell myself she's tough and can handle herself. She survived all those years in that house and is a better shot than me.

  The girl can handle herself.

  But the train tracks. She wouldn't try to kill herself again, would she? Surely not after I've offered her the Paris guest room for as long as she wants it.

  No, she wouldn't.

  "Same time tomorrow?" Lathe asks.

  I glance at the clock. "We're performing at Richie's tomorrow. We'd better start earlier."

  "Are there going to be agents?"

  "It's hit or miss." I finish off my bottled water.

  Ashton wipes his brow. "Any idea when we'll hear from either of those agents from the other night?"

  I shake my head. "I've got my phone on full volume in case one does call. It's only a matter of time at the rate we're going. Shenanigans called us to come back. That's practically unheard of."

  Ellis runs his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, but it's still not a weekend show."

  "We'll get there." I grab my guitar case. "Just keep practicing."

  Everyone mumbles their agreement, and we take off to the parking lot. I lock our little rental garage. Hopefully, one day soon we'll have an actual studio to practice in. One more reason to get that agent.

  Once in my car, I check my phone for the ten-billionth time. Nothing from either an agent or Kenna.

  I blast the music and hit the road, losing myself in the song. At home, I question both Miss Alice and Sutton, but neither has seen her. I need to get that girl a cell phone.

  After dropping off my guitar in the music room, I go back to Sutton's room. "Wanna go for a swim?"

  She groans and looks up at me from on top of her bed. "I wish. My worst exam is tomorrow, and I'm so not ready."

  "A break might do you good."

  "Don't tempt me. I want to do anything but study right now."

  "Then you need a break. Come on."

  "You're a horrible influence, you know that?" Sutton throws me an annoyed glance.

  "Breaks are healthy."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  "I read it online, so it has to be true."

  "You're so full of it. Fine, but just a quick dip. If Mom comes home and sees me in the pool, she'll have my head."

  "When is she ever home before dinner?"

  "I said I'd go. Now get outta here unless you want a show."

  "Ew." I pick up a stuffed hippo and throw it at her head.

  "I'm not gross." She throws it at me.

  "I'm your brother."

  Sutton laughs as I close the door. Five minutes later, we meet at the pool. It's days like this that make me wish we had an outdoor pool, but if we did, we couldn't use it for about nine months out of the year. Not so close to Seattle, where cold rain is the norm most months.

  My sister gets in position to dive. "Race you!"

  She dives in, and I jump so as not to give her a head start. We swim back and forth across the length of the pool until we're both laughing and gasping for air, too tired to keep going.

  Sutton grabs the edge. "You know, that was exactly what I needed."

  "See? You should always listen to you
r big brother."

  She sticks her tongue out at me.

  "So mature."

  "I learn from the best." She climbs out and lets her feet dangle in the water. "So, you really like Kenna?"

  I tread water and can't deny the question.

  "She seems really nice. I'm sure whatever she's been through totally sucks." Sutton frowns.

  "You have no idea." And I'm glad she doesn't. We're sheltered and overprotected compared to everything Kenna's been through, and I'm sure there's a lot more to the story than I know about.

  It infuriates me that her brother, step or otherwise, would treat her so abusively. If anyone even looked at Sutton sideways, I'd beat them senseless just for thinking of doing anything to hurt her.

  Sutton jumps to her feet. "I'd better get back to studying before dinner. Tell Kenna if she wants to talk, I'll be more than happy to take a break."

  "Thanks. I appreciate it. I'm sure she does too."

  She grabs a towel and heads out toward the house. I stay in the water a few minutes, contemplating how lucky Sutton and I are. Sure, our dad is a jerk, but he's practically an angel compared to what Kenna has had to deal with all these years.

  He's never hurt us or called us any names. Plus, if anyone ever did hurt either Sutton or me, he'd probably be the first one to jump in and defend us, or at least throw money at an attorney to do the dirty work.

  It almost makes me want to call my dad. But I'd rather find Kenna. Acid is churning in my gut, and despite my swim, I don't feel any better.

  I climb out and towel off, hoping she'll walk through the door.

  She doesn't.

  Mind racing, I head back to my room to change into dry clothes. The acid in my stomach grows stronger with each passing moment. I hope I'm worrying for nothing, but it's hard to believe I am.

  I'm getting that girl a cell phone as soon as I find her. It boggles my mind how anyone over the age of twelve can live without one. I mean, I get that growing up where she did they didn't have money to spare, but it's a safety issue. Like right now.

  I head downstairs and make a point to pass Miss Alice and ask her again if Kenna told her where she was going.

  She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. Next time, I'll be sure to ask."

  "Thank you, Miss Alice." But there won't be a next time.