by Cleo Fox
Over the last few weeks, she had gotten worse about telling me what I could and couldn't eat. All of it was getting more restrictive. I hated it. I wanted to eat what I wanted and not have her in my head nagging me about it.
As the driver left to pick my mother up, I entered the house and kicked off my shoes. "Dad, I'm home!"
No response. Normally he would say. 'Lamb, I'm in the office!'
I glanced around; the house felt too quiet. The hairs on my arms prickled. I looked at the stairs. "Dad!" When no response came, I peered toward the kitchen. "Roberta? Anyone home?"
Silence, dead silence.
My heart hammered, and I swallowed hard. I'd been home alone before. It shouldn't have been something that freaked me out. It never had before.
I wished my dad had gotten me the cell phone he had talked about, but I turned him down. Stupid. If I had it, I could just call him, make everything better, so I wasn't scared to be home alone.
I moved my bag onto my shoulder and ascended the L shaped stairs with plans to go to my room to wait for him to get home. I couldn't wait to talk to him more about Paris and where we could possibly be staying. I'd started learning basic French, so I could get by at least for the first week or two, and then maybe he could hire me a tutor. He already spoke French. I wish I had wanted to learn it when I was younger.
My dad's office stood just before the door to my room. Light peeked out of it and into the hall. I frowned at the cracked door. He never cracked it. It was either open when he was home or locked when he wasn't.
"Dad?" I pushed it open and everything inside me stilled.
My bag fell from my shoulder, as my brain short-circuited. There, just beyond his desk, his body hung by his neck, twisting from the dark wood rafters he loved so much. All at once, reality hit me. I needed to get him down and call for help.
Rushing forward, I used his office chair to climb onto his desk and grabbed hold of his legs. "Dad! Dad, come back! Fight, Dad, I got you!"
I tried to pull him back toward the desk where his feet could just reach to give him something to stand on. I had no idea how I was going to get him down. I couldn't climb him to cut the rope, and I wasn't tall enough even on the desk to reach his neck to try and cut it there. I might cut his neck.
Weren’t there important veins in the neck that they always cut in the action movies to kill the bad guys?
I couldn't do it by myself. I needed help. I spotted the phone on his desk. Trying to keep one arm wrapped around his legs and reach back for the landline didn't work. My arms weren't long enough or strong enough to hold onto him and grab the phone. I let out a cry. I didn't know what to do.
"Help! Someone, help!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping I was wrong and Roberta was in the house somewhere. That I missed her.
I reached back for the phone again, straining my muscles to also hold onto him and keep his feet touching something. I hooked the phone cord with my middle finger and tugged it toward me, knocking off his favorite fountain pen set. I was just glad he was old fashioned and liked corded phone sets.
He could yell at me for it later.
Putting the phone to my ear, I went to dial 911 when I realized no sound came from it. No tone to tell me it was working.
I screamed. "No!" and threw the phone.
I didn't have a cellphone and the only other one was downstairs in the kitchen. I couldn't leave him.
Then it hit me. he always carried his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans or slacks.
Pulling his body closer, I reached into his pocket, and sure enough, the hard phone met my fingertips.
"Yes!" Tugging it out, I hit the button for an emergency call, and put 911.
The line rang, once, twice. Blood rushed around my ears. My heart hurt from how hard it pumped.
And then a man's voice picked up. "911, what's your emergency?"
My resolve began to crack, like a lump of fear formed a rock in my throat and the tears gathered in my eyes. I fought to keep my composure so the man would understand me. "My dad. My dad needs your help. I found him hanging in his office. I can't get him down. Please send help."
"What is your address? I'm sending help right away."
"9973 Brightlight Lane..."
"Got it. Miss, can you tell me if your father is breathing?"
I looked up his chest. I couldn't tell if I saw movement. My hand shook with the phone. "I don't know, I can't tell." My voice cracked.
"It's okay, miss. Stay calm. Help is on the way. Can you tell me the color of his lips?"
My arm grew tired, but I fought to keep a hold on him. I hadn't looked at his face yet. I forced my gaze to his face, and my heart stopped.
His eyes were open, staring ahead, lips blue and his neck crooked. "They're blue, and his eyes are open."
Sirens filled the driveway out front.
"Miss, is the door open so the paramedics and firefighters can get in?"
I nodded before I realized he couldn't see me. Everything felt so far away. "Yes." We never locked the doors when everyone wasn't home.
A commotion filled the house.
"Miss?" someone called.
I could barely get out, "Up here."
The door crashed against the wall, and several figures rushed into the room.
A man came forward and placed his hand on my shoulders. "Miss, you can let go now. We need to help your father."
I didn't want to let go. I didn't want him to leave me. We were supposed to go to Paris. He said so that morning. Everything was falling into place for us to have a happier life without mom to oppress us.
"Miss, can you hear me?" A light shone in my eyes. "I think she's in shock."
They moved me away, and a woman came to take me downstairs. I couldn't function; I couldn't tell her no, that I wanted to stay by his side in case he came back.
She sat me down on the couch and took my hand. "It's going to be okay. Can you tell me your name?"
A shrill scream entered the house. "What is going on here?"
My mom hurried through the entrance. She turned in her red bottom stilettos.
She rushed over to me. "Chanel? What happened?"
I stared up at her. "Dad's... Dad's." I couldn't get the words out. To say them would make it real.
She pulled me to her, pressing my head into her stomach and stroking my hair. "Shh... Chanel. Mommy's here. Don't worry."
Her words felt hollow as did her touch. It didn't bring me any comfort, but I didn't have the strength to pull away. Why did he leave me here?
The ride came to a stop, and I fought to get my bearings. Nothing weirder than a girl coming off a roller coaster, sobbing her eyes out. Then again, people probably would've passed it off as fear.
I covered my hands with the hoodie and used them to wipe at my eyes. At least I took off my makeup, or I would truly look insane.
I wasn't sure I wasn't.
Getting off the ride, I headed toward the last coaster the park had to offer. The Dragon. It was a simple circle roller coaster, and the first one my dad ever took me on, because it was the only one I was tall enough for. The first one where he taught me it was okay to scream on roller coasters and no one would stare.
My mind focused on the day I found his body. There was hardly a day I didn't think about it. Playing over every detail of the morning. How he and I talked about moving to Paris, and that everything with the business was going well, and that Grandfather was supportive of the decision, stating he might even have my father open a branch of the company in France so they could expand the business outside of the States and Canada.
Nothing about his demeanor said he was a man on the edge of taking a leap from his desk with a noose tied around his neck. He seemed excited about the future and ready to get away from my mother.
He planned on waiting to tell her his plans until we were already on a plane out of the States, but maybe something changed? It never added up.
But the police said it was a suicide, so what else could I do?
"Chanel!" a familiar voice called and my back stiffened.
I kept walking for a second. It wasn't a super common name, but there was a chance that another Chanel was around. I didn't want anyone to know I was here. My mother had spies all around, I was sure of it, but they were trained to look out for me wearing high-fashion brands, my hair perfect and makeup perfect. That Chanel wouldn't be caught dead in a dirty amusement park unless her quarterback boyfriend was with her.
"Chanel!" That time, I recognized Sai’s voice; I'd heard it and his accent for an hour earlier in the day.
It had to be me. I could keep walking, but then what if they didn't stop calling? People would start to take notice.
Turning around, I walked up to Sai and his group of friends, the asshole among them. "Can you stop saying my name? I'm trying to keep a low profile."
The guy with the glasses and punk look snorted. "Why? Because the paparazzi will come running? Get over yourself."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't talk unless you know what you're talking about, beauf."
He frowned. "What did you just call me?"
"Oh, super intelligent man doesn't know French?" I rattled off at him in French.
He blinked, eyes glassy. "You're fluent in French?"
I shoved my hands into the pocket of my hoodie and looked at the others. "What do you want?"
Rhett rubbed the back of his neck. "We were wondering if you wanted to hang out since you're alone. You drove by us when we were walking up to the parking lot.
I frowned at him. He, out of any of them, wanted to hang out with me? I lifted an eyebrow. "You." I pointed at him. "Want to hang out with me? Are you high? You do know who I am, right?"
Rhett laughed. "Yeah, both."
I snorted a small laugh in return. He should have that kind of confidence when he wasn't high. Maybe then he could stand up to Jason. "Must be some good weed."
I shouldn't even toy with the idea of hanging out with them. Coming to the amusement park was my time to be alone and vent. But I also couldn't remember the last time I'd come with someone. I'd never brought Jason, and he'd never wanted to go, at least not with me.
A sigh left me. "Fine, but don't call me by my name."
The Korean guy in the middle laughed. "So, where to, Yale? More coasters?"
I frowned at him before I remembered I wore my dad's old Yale hoodie. I nodded.
The glasses guy, what was his name again? Zeke? Groaned. "Are you an adrenaline junkie or something?"
I turned on my heel, going toward the dragon coaster off in the distance. "I'll take it you like the Merry-Go-Round, beauf? The beautiful thing about coasters is that you can scream as much as you want, and no one will bat an eye. It's good for the soul. Though, I suppose you wouldn't understand that."
Zeke grumbled as the others laughed. "What the fuck does that word mean?"
I just smirked at him. Little did he know it was the French equivalent of hick, vulgar man, Neanderthal. Also, brother-in-law, depending on the context, but it mostly never meant that when used in slang terms.
I passed the line for the roller coaster usually meant for kids, but adults who couldn't handle the bigger ones also rode it. I held out my pass for the man to scan, and looked back at the others, expecting them to be in line or something, but they stood behind with white day passes ready. At least they came prepared.
Once the current turn came to a stop, I climbed in the first cart. The others clambered into the ones behind me. I was glad none of them were ballsy enough to try and sit with me. At least I could feel like I was alone. After the dragon, there weren't any more coasters to ride.
Normally, I’d head back home. But they wanted to hang out, which I still couldn't believe I was allowing myself to do.
Maybe the last ride shook my brain too much, and left me numb and uncaring. I ran into the same problem the year before, but toward my grades and caring about school. Frustrated the fuck out of my teachers. My mother wanted me to be Jason's trophy wife, so she did nothing to try and push me to do more.
She would be pissed if she found out about me reaching out for tutoring or applying to colleges. I had talked the school counselor into letting the mail to and from the colleges go to the school's PO box, stating that knowing I would be going off to college would set off my mother and send her into a deep depression.
Not sure he bought it or cared, but he was letting me use the PO box. He'd moved to our city at the start of the year, so I doubted he could be a spy for her. She hadn't known of or cared about him to sink her claws in and use him.
As we went around in a bumpy tilted circle, I screamed. This one could still make my stomach flip, even if it didn't have drops or loops.
Everything just had to work out, it had to.
My body hummed with the rush of adrenaline from the coasters and the edible that felt like it gave my limbs an almost pulse that crisscrossed along my body.
When we stepped off the Dragon, Chanel waited for us by the exit from the ride.
Zeke swayed on his feet. I wanted to laugh, but it would only make him more pissed off. He didn't mind rides like the Tilt-A-Whirl or the Octopus, he liked the Teacups, but he wasn't one for coasters, even when we made him do them.
I didn't fully get why Rhett was the one who wanted to hang out with Chanel, though he did seem to come more out of his shell when he was high, and he'd liked her in some way since our Freshman year. He used to never shut up about her. Until the baby dick incident. He blamed her for it, which it was true, she did call it that, but in all honesty, I hadn't heard it come from her mouth since that day.
Just her douche boyfriend's mouth and his friends.
She looked at us. "Well, that's it for the roller coasters. Typically, I’d leave now, but I get the feeling you guys aren't satisfied with just the coasters. So, which ride next? One of you pick."
There was no denying she was bossy as hell. But I could kind of see the appeal the others had seen over the years. Well, Rhett and Sai. I'm not sure Zeke had ever seen the personal appeal of anyone, just whether or not he could get his dick wet.
Seeing her dressed down helped a lot. She was prettier without the layers of makeup to hide her freckles, and her natural red lashes brought out the green of her eyes more.
She'd be a really nice model for my photography portfolio.
Not that my parents would ever let me take it seriously and turn it into a career, even though I'd cited them hundreds of people who had made a good living from it shooting for Vogue and other major companies.
But once I was away at college, I could always switch my major from pre-med to something else. I wouldn't be living under their roof anymore and they couldn't threaten to kick me out. Sure, there was the chance of them disowning me, but I would cross that bridge if it came to pass.
I shook my head, having got lost in a stream. The group walked off to another ride, having yet to realize I wasn't with them. I jogged to keep up. Moving my feet faster felt awesome, like I was gliding through the air. I really love getting high and being high, but I knew it would have to stop if I went into pre-med. Yet another reason I looked forward to switching majors.
Weed just made me want to get my camera out and shoot everything.
Leaning over to Zeke, I bumped him in the shoulder. "I zoned out back there. Where are we going?"
He side glanced at me. "Teacups."
Chanel pulled at her hood again, making sure it was up and covered the sides of her face. What was she worried about? She acted as if people swarmed her all the time wanting her autograph. I
didn't get it, but I didn't want her calling me something I figured wasn't nice in French. Zeke really managed to find a way to get on her bad side.
Honestly, she wasn't that bad without the douche hanging off her. She seemed chill, and so much unlike the girl we'd seen parading through the halls at Woodside. A girl we could all get along with, and not one that needed a lesson in how to be nice.
In fact, I'd never seen her really tear down anyone, or make fun of anyone for the sake of it, unless one of her 'friends' made her do it. She always seemed like a neutral evil, never part of anything bad, but never stopping it, either.
Then again, what she did for Rhett the other day was nice. I wouldn't mind helping her in English if that's what she wanted. I didn't even care if she paid me. In fact, maybe I could get her to trade me for something else. She really would be a good model for my portfolio. I just so happened to pick a pre-med college that was in the same state as an Arts college that was well known for turning out famous artists, dancers, and photographers. I wouldn't drop out of the premed one until I knew I could make it into the Arts one.
I didn't want my parents to kill me as well as disown me, which they would do if I dropped out with nowhere else to go.
We soon got to the Teacups, and I gladly passed the line that circled around it almost twice. It was good to have a friend who made lots of cash. Anytime I asked for money from my parents, they always wanted receipts for everything. It didn't matter if it was food for lunch or shoes for school. If I didn't have something to prove what I bought, they lost their shit, and I couldn't get anything else for a while.
We picked a teacup big enough to fit all five of us. Chanel sat between me and Sai before we all put our hands on the wheel and turned it. The cup spun faster and faster until the colors of the other rides, trees, lights, and the park restaurant off in the distance blurred together.
Chanel leaned into me and then Sai as she laughed and the velocity pulled us in either direction. A genuine laugh. It sounded nice.
As the ride stopped, and we could no longer turn the wheel, my eyes crossed, and the world continued to spin as we slowed back down to normal speed. Chanel leaned against me for a second, and the scent of jasmine flowers and something spicy like cinnamon hit my nose, before she could right herself.
