by S. E. Akers
Her parted lips started to move, but I quickly cut her off and stood my ground. “It stays HERE…and don’t even think about breaking it! I’ll see it when I come back on my breaks.” Charlotte’s face took on a tinge of green, sickened by the reminder that she was far from “free of me”. I leaned closer to her, my blood boiling with rage. “I want you to see that thing every day. I want it to remind you that even though you may not have acted like you were married for many years, that you had a husband. A husband who was faithful and loyal to you. When you see those creepy eyes staring down at you, I want you to picture that they’re Daddy’s…watching you.” I looked at the picture of the two of them, at the love in their eyes that day at the fair. I’d seen couples on Valentine’s Day cards that paled in comparison. I flipped the photo around and shoved it in her face. “If anything, maybe at least you’ll remember how much you loved him that day!”
“That day that still haunts me,” Charlotte grumbled, sharpening her cruel gaze. Our unyielding stares didn’t break until Chloe bustled into the room.
“Is everything set?” Chloe bubbled to Charlotte with a detectible thrill in her voice.
Charlotte pulled back first. Her scowl rose into an acidy grin. “Yes, sweetheart.” That endearment was for my benefit. “They’re lying over there.” Charlotte pointed towards the coffee maker by the stove. Chloe pushed past me in a hurry and snatched something off the counter. I only caught a glimpse of the mystery item before she bolted out of the room, but it appeared she was holding a stack of brochures. They obviously didn’t concern me. I could tell that by the smug look on my mother’s face. But then again, everything that went on around here concerned me — one way or another. I’d never seen a mother work so hard at trying to leave her daughter out. Rest assured, Daddy may have gotten a reprieve, but I was still stuck in the fifth circle of Hell.
“I’m warning you, Mother. Don’t even think about getting rid of it!” I ordered and charged out of the room, still clutching the photo.
I raced to the pile in the foyer, desperate to salvage some of Daddy’s things. The way I rooted through all the boxes frantically, you’d think I was in search of Midas’ crown. I didn’t know what I was hunting for exactly. Not clothes or useless trinkets, but something special to always remind me that his spirit was still around. Nothing seemed perfect enough. I hated to admit it, but aside from the photo albums, the boxes were filled with junk. Frustrated, I tapped my hand on one of the cartons. I caught a flicker of light coming from my diamond. The one in my class ring. The one Tanner had made for me.
The one that was Daddy’s, I thought and let out an insightful sigh. I didn’t need anything else. I already had it right here, the perfect reminder of his love. Since nothing else even came close to topping it, I abandoned my search. I did grab the photo albums and his chess set. Those I could hide under the loose floorboards underneath my bed. Charlotte would never know. As I tucked the photo inside one of the albums, I spied something else I wanted to save — his old coffee thermos that he carted to work and back every day. The thought of it ending up in some landfill made me want to hurl. With my treasure in tow, I marched up the stairs to stow away my loot.
I stopped myself just shy of entering my bedroom. Still curious about the brochures, I strolled down the hall on a reconnaissance mission, headed for my sister’s door. Even if she wouldn’t tell me, I could pull it out of her head. It was easy enough, though I remained slightly guilt-ridden about the whole process. Tanner assured me it didn’t cause them any pain. That was good. Though I wasn’t sure if they lost any brain cells. I hoped for Chloe’s sake they remained intact (especially after I’d accidentally opened her first nine-weeks grades by mistake).
She can’t afford to lose many more, I noted as I gave her door three good “knocks”.
“Chloe, can I talk to you?” After a few pouts and grunts, I heard her tromp to the door. She flung it open but threw her finger up, halting me until she finished with whomever she was chatting with on the phone. I automatically shot her a fierce glare. That only stretched her conversation out even more. Coincidentally, I spotted the brochures lying on her dresser beside the door after a sweeping eye-roll.
That figures, I griped to Katie. Playing the role of snarky travel agent, I read them out to her. “Christmas in Pigeon Forge,” I called out mentally. “Gatlinburg Chalet Rentals,” and my personal favorite, “Come to the Smoky Mountains and Ring in the New Year!” Nice to see they’re keeping up one tradition…excluding me!
Chloe rushed over and snatched them off the dresser, well away from my prying eyes. “Those aren’t yours!” she raged and stormed back over to her bed. She plopped back down, taking an extra-long time to find a comfy spot. “You may enter,” Chloe decreed piously. The little twit even waved her hand. I, however, stood right where I was. After hearing and witnessing her highness’ display, I wouldn’t have gone a step further if the damn hallway was on fire and the little bitch was holding the only water hose.
The impromptu trip didn’t come as a surprise, not after their Thanksgiving stunt, but I still felt wounded, nonetheless. “So how long are y’all going to be gone?” I quizzed. “Just for Christmas?”
The little diva didn’t answer. Chloe just sat on her bed checking her phone for texts, tweets, and Facebook posts.
“I asked you a question,” I said. My pitch rose while my tolerance took a nosedive.
“I heard you,” Chloe huffed as she typed a message. “Let’s just say that you’ll see us next year.”
“So what’s planned for Spring Break? A week at Myrtle Beach?” I griped.
“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll definitely run it past Mom…but it’s not Mexico,” she added with a jealous gleam in her eyes. “After all, why should you be the only one who gets to go on a trip?”
“Don’t worry, Chloe. I’m not going on that trip.” That seemed to put her little green-eyed monster somewhat at ease. Apparently my little sister was still ticked about catching me and Mike locked in what she thought was a consensual kiss.
“Then what’s your problem? Why are you so pissy?” Chloe snapped.
“I’m PISSY because lately there seems to be an awful lot of trips planned for two!” I raged. “I’m still a part of this family, whether you two choose to acknowledge it or not.” I guessed that short-lived, two-week taste of having a doting, loving mother affected me more than I’d thought. I genuinely wished her change had come honestly and not from the effects of a mood-altering purple stone.
“Just until graduation. You’ll be out of here and off to college soon,” Chloe announced, practically beaming.
“June can’t get here quick enough,” I assured her.
“Our thoughts exactly,” Chloe concurred snidely. “Mom’s just happy that she’ll finally get to stop shelling out money on you.”
My eyes about bugged out of my head. Money? On me? That’s priceless, I laughed.
“Speaking of money… Don’t you think Mom is burning through Daddy’s life insurance, too soon, too fast?” I suggested. In the past four weeks, my mother had not only purchased an entire new wardrobe for Chloe and herself, but a loaded-out new Cadillac as well. And now they’re planning ANOTHER trip?
Chloe got up and marched over to the door. “She said we can afford it,” she assured with a glare. “What do you care? You’ve got your land.” With that dig, she slammed the door. The reason for all their extra nastiness hit me like a slap in the face.
Because I didn’t sell the land and give them “their” money.
“Well maybe for my graduation y’all can finally go on that trip to PARIS!” I screamed and stuck my tongue out at the door. I stomped down the hall, all the way to my room. A real adult thing to do. So was punching the crap out of my pillow. Hundreds of feathers exploded from out of its side opening and floated throughout my room. In the grand scheme of things, I didn’t care. I groaned as I plopped down and scooted Daddy’s things under the bed with my foot.
“You
know what’s unfair about this whole mess, Katie?” I posed as I flung myself back against my remaining pillows.
“What’s that?” Katie asked.
“My family sees me every day, and they run from me like the plague. Yours can’t…and they’d do anything for just one more moment with you.”
“They’re idiots,” she insisted.
“Good-night, Katie,” I said as I started unfastening my necklace, ready to put an end to this day.
“Good-night, Shi…and I’m sorry about earlier. I know you’ll find my body. Next full moon?” Katie posed confidently.
“Next full moon,” I repeated back, trying to mask my dubious tone.
With Katie now tucked in the drawer of my bedside table, I was ready for an extra-long dip in the tub. The bath served its purpose. I was clean, but at no time did it soak away any of my blues.
I slid down under the water. Katie’s body and the fire opal, I thought over and over. What am I going to do?
Thirty grueling minutes later, I dried off and sulked back to my room. Not even the coziness of my favorite pair of flannel bottoms and a perfectly worn-in college tee could soothe me into thoughts of a restful night of sleep.
A total bust of a day. Defeated, I fell back on my bed. I eyed the letters WVU on my shirt with a sullen gaze.
Maybe I can get one answer, I hoped as I thought about the strange plant. Regardless of Bea’s assessment, my gut hadn’t stopped churning with doubt. I was bound and determined to get an answer, even without her help. However, the mental torture of a long wait concerned me the most.
Eventually, I groaned.
From out of nowhere, a familiar and blissful vibe began to tingle my senses. That only meant one thing. Tanner was calling. I snatched my leather bag from off the bedside table and unzipped it. A beautiful purple light was swirling inside my little amethyst.
“Rough day?” Tanner’s voice whispered in my head no sooner than I’d grabbed it. I gave the purple stone an extra hard squeeze and curled up under the covers.
I let out a long-winded sigh. “Definitely in the top two.”
Chapter 6 — It’s the Thought That Counts!
Before I knew it, my exams were over, school was out, and Christmas Eve morn had arrived — but without its enthusiastic fanfare. The lackluster-vibe stagnating throughout the house like a dark, dreary fog was a far cry from last year’s. I awoke to a lonely bedroom with the sounds of Charlotte and Chloe wrapping last minute gifts and packing their suitcases rattling my ears.
They’re really doing it… They’re actually leaving to spend Christmas without me, a part of me pouted as I pulled the covers over my head. I figured they would, but I guessed in the back of my mind, I had been praying for a good old-fashion Christmas miracle. I’m glad I didn’t hold my breath! Little did they know, Beatrix had invited me to spend the holidays at her house, from Christmas Eve all the way through New Year’s Day. My mentor assured that my stay would be more convenient for my lessons and training, but insisted it wouldn’t be all work and no play. To sweeten the pot, she even dropped a few hints about a “surprise”, though I didn’t need any coercing. Regardless of what she had planned, I was open for anything at this point.
Still disgusted by my family’s abandonment, I glanced at my clock as I rose out of bed. 6:00 AM. I shuffled over to my vanity and plopped down on the stool. With a guided push, I scooted myself over to the window and raised it in one swoop. There they were, the two Scroogettes, standing at the rear of the Cadillac. Charlotte was loading up their suitcases while Chloe waited patiently, holding several shopping bags full of beautifully wrapped presents to be stuffed into the trunk. The loving mother-daughter spectacle was enough to make me puke right out the second-story window. Pity I didn’t have a paintball gun. My mother noticed me as soon as she slammed the trunk shut.
“Oh, you’re awake. We were trying not to disturb you,” Charlotte yelled up.
Bullshit, I thought as I shot a blank stare down to my mother. They were never up and ready this early.
“We left something for you in the kitchen, so perk up,” she added with a cheeky grin. “Ta-ta.” With that endearing au revoir, Charlotte and Chloe waved and hopped into the car.
Great. A sink full of dirty breakfast dishes. Just what I wanted, I surmised confidently. Since I hadn’t put a lot of thought into either of their presents this year when I purchased two Mercer Mall gift certificates, I figured I would go ahead and give my family exactly what they wanted, what lay at the top of their lists. Straightway, I put on my best “wounded & cast aside” performance by puckering my lips, flashing my sad eyes, and slamming the window shut. As predicted, my telepathic waves picked up on their cackles as they drove out of sight.
Merry Christmas… Glad I could oblige!
I bundled up in my white fuzzy robe, scooted on my slippers, and headed downstairs. Though my busy day dictated a shower should come first, my curiosity had gotten the best of me. Sure enough, there was a large box sitting wrapped and waiting on the kitchen table. After a frivolous inspection, I felt comfortable enough to proceed without having to call in the bomb-sniffing dogs. With all the fancy paper now ripped off and thrown in the trash, I turned to open the mysterious box. What I pulled out floored me, but not in a good way. I turned my gaze towards the center spot atop the shelf of Charlotte’s hutch. I fumed as I stared at the empty space while I held Daddy’s tacky old cookie jar in my hands.
Nice, Charlotte… Nice try!
Without hesitating, I used a chair to hop up and place old Joe back where it belonged, where Daddy had insisted it remain despite Charlotte’s protests. Merry Christmas to me, I thought, knowing Charlotte would be pissed when she returned and saw it sitting back on the shelf. Suddenly, a clever thought emerged. I jumped off the stool and raced outside to Daddy’s workshop. After collecting everything a constructive elf would need, I strutted proudly back into the kitchen and climbed back up to put the show-stopping star on top of my mother’s Christmas tree.
“There,” I announced aloud as I squirted a huge dollop of silicone adhesive out of the caulk-gun. I gave the base of the hideous cookie jar a firm and fulfilling press down against the wooden ledge of Charlotte’s precious antique. I hopped down with a triumphant clap. “Now that’s a Merry Christmas to me!” I remarked as I marveled at my handiwork.
I bounced back up the stairs with a much brighter start to my holiday. Despite the fact that my biological family had ditched me, I had a lot of things left for other loved ones to do, so I needed to get moving. I still hadn’t found a present for Katie. Other than pulling her body and a rare fire opal out of my butt, I dismally had nothing. I hadn’t seen or heard a peep out of the Onyx, which supported Bea’s “he’s torturing you through your emotions” theory. Beatrix advised that our best chance rested with finding out where the Onyx had hidden her body and definitely not by letting him “show us the way”. A surprise attack would throw him off guard. But then we were still faced with the other missing part of the equation — the fire opal. Gallia’s was the first Beatrix had seen since the Dark Ages, which didn’t do much of raising my hopes in any sort of way.
Once all of my morning rituals had earned their respective “check”, it was time to get dressed and pack my own bags. My day was mostly filled with last minute errands, until the Drive-In’s Christmas party this afternoon. With that considered, I opted to throw on a festive green angora sweater and my favorite jeans. One down, I thought with a smile. Now, I had to pick out everything else I would need for the rest of the week. My uniform was a must, seeing how I was scheduled to work a couple of evenings. Everything else I pulled out of my drawers ended up being play clothes, the kind you didn’t mind getting ripped or ruined. After all, I knew how hard that old woman liked to train. Dinner at Bea’s was at seven sharp. She tended to go overboard when it came to special occasions. With that in mind, I mulled over “what to wear”. Playing it safe, I threw in my fanciest blouse and a pair of my best (and least faded) black s
lacks.
Dressy-casual, I thought, perfect enough to suit any holiday dress code. Mandatory magical odds and ends were next. My hilt went into my back pocket (concealed of course), my amethyst I laid around my neck, my two rings were already on my fingers, my serpentine remained in my purse, and that damn lapis lazuli stayed right where it was, out of sight and under my bed (despite Bea’s constant requests). That was the last thing I wanted to see, especially over the holidays. With a quick zip of my bag, I was finally all packed.
I’m just missing one thing. I pulled Katie out of my bedside drawer. The snores that were bellowing from her diamond could drown-out a sawmill. I didn’t have the heart to wake her yet, so I gently tucked her in the side pocket of my purse.
I’ll just wake her up before we get to her parents’ shop, I noted with a smile as I trotted down the stairs. With a quick turn of the thermostat dial to 60˚ F degrees, I hurried out the front door, officially ready to kick-off my holiday.
Before I shifted my Charger into drive, I paused momentarily to stare at our old two-story farmhouse. I cringed. The sight was beyond depressing. Without its usual clusters of lights strung in the bushes, as well as outlining the roof and all its eaves, it looked the same as it did any other time of the year. Charlotte didn’t even bother to hang our wreath on the front door. But to be fair, considering its “official hanger” wasn’t around to assume his annual duty, sadly neither did I. Despite the fact that every inch of this house reminded me of Daddy, I was relieved not to be here.
