Seeking Nirvana

by V. L. Brock

  “I wish I could help, sis, but the truth is, I don’t know,” she enunciated clearly.

  Don’t know? What the Hell does that mean? She’s my Goddamn sister, she knows me better than anyone.

  “Kady, the day I saw you in the hospital, was the first time I had seen you, and talked to you, in over eighteen months––”

  “What?!”

  “Ever since I confided in you, about Liam making a pass at me, and you took his side over mine.”

  Every molecule of air abandoned my body in one enormous gasp as I sank to the tiled flooring, my back resting against the unit next to the range, while my hand rested on the bare flesh of my thigh. “What about all the, ‘do you remembers’ you threw at me?”

  “That was from before I told you about it. Truthfully, sis, I wish I could help you piece everything together, but…I don’t know you anymore, not like how I used to. You’d changed, Kady,” there was a slight disbelieving chuckle to her tone. “No one knows you any longer.”

  There was no use repressing the tears which followed her words, tears of loss, of anger. I was adrift; no one could help me because no one knew what I had obviously turned into the last few years. I was lost in Limbo. And once again the only person who was at my side, who knew the undeniable truth, was the one who was telling me everything but the truth.

  We continued to chat while I was besieged by a thick daze. Her presumption that Liam was still away on business considering I was on the phone to her, made my heart swell and lodge into my throat. How much had I actually given up for him? For a brief moment, I felt as though I was doing something defiant in talking to her. I felt I was going to get disciplined for talking to my baby sister. My mind began growling in frustration as it strove to make heads and tails of this farce. It was beyond ridiculous.

  “Kady, I have an exam this afternoon, but I can get a flight out to you later tonight,” she offered. “I’ll have to be back before Friday afternoon for my next exam though. And I don’t think it would be a good idea if Liam came back and saw me there.”

  Swallowing a small sob, I politely declined.

  “You used to go for a run to put things into perspective. Try it. I’m here if you need to talk.”

  “Yeah, come up with a codename just in case,” I mocked. The situation was completely unfathomable. It was totally absurd, and I was at its center. At some point, walls had been formed around me; depriving me of an entitlement every soul has the right to…freedom.

  “Why not, I’ll be cotton candy.” We giggled for a passing moment before she befell to a serious tone. “Kady, you’re my big sister. I hated losing you. I don’t want that to happen again, no one should have the right to come between families. I didn’t ask for it, sis, no matter what he told you. I didn’t do the things that he said I did, I’d never do that to you. I love you.”

  “Brittany,” I murmured. “I don’t recall any of this. Let’s just forget about it, and I’ll try my hardest to––”

  “I’m scared, Kady,” she cut me off. “I’m scared that you’ll remember, and take his word at face value. Then you’ll end up hating me, and then I’ll lose you again.”

  I pulled my legs into my body; tears reacquainted themselves with my cheeks for a second time. As spiking heat coursed through the inside of my upper leg, I gazed down to see my thigh scraped and raw. How did I manage that? I halted the unconscious grating of my flesh, and inspected the accretion of shredded flesh and blood under my fingernails.

  “Britt, we’ll be fine,” I reassured her, brushing the robe over the fresh mark on my leg.

  “I hope so, sis. I hope so.”

  I decided to take my sister’s advice as soon as I got off the phone. Seizing the bottle of water which I set on the stair, I pulled the door shut and fiddled with my ponytail as I threaded it threw the back of my baby pink baseball cap.

  “Good morning, Kady,” Mrs. Steinbeck called from her front porch with the Boston Times snug under her arm.

  “Morning, Mrs. Steinbeck,” I grudgingly replied while bouncing down the front steps. I stopped at the bottom and began to do a few stretches.

  “Going for a run?”

  Gosh she was observant wasn’t she? “Yes, it’s a good way to start the day,” I strained as I stretched my arms above my head.

  “Be careful, Kady. Mr. DeLaney would be furious if––”

  “I will do,” I spat out concisely, already passing the numerous other detached, funky colored properties as I jogged lightly down the tree-lined block, and away from her shrill voice.

  I pounded the ground with harsh, rhythmic blows as I jogged past the Bricksdale Square that harbored Ent-icing, and the white chapel with clock tower. It still gave me the willies in the sense of, I really expect members of the community to go all Village of the Damned on my ass as soon as the bell rang six times.

  It didn’t go unnoticed that the folks in the area were looking and pointing at me. In desperate hope to reach the park in record breaking time, and out of prying eyes, I advanced into a sprint, taking all my anger, resentment, fury, confusion and desire out on the solidity of the asphalt.

  Not paying any attention to the groups of half-dressed men playing basketball in the secluded courts alongside me, I ran and ran until my legs felt weak, my lungs grated and ached while my throat burned with each vital intake of breath, and my heart was lurching out of its cavity.

  My exacting breath was loud and erratic. Still, the volume of each strenuous intake and expulsion of air was all but a whisper in comparison to the words that were spiraling around my head. My rationality was going to rack and ruin as Brittany’s omission, alongside my mom and dads, the lies, the cover ups, behaviors, attitudes, Liam’s need to keep me wrapped up for some God forsaken reason, not to mention our lack of physical intimacy, were pressed further and further to the front of my mind.

  I dug, cursed and forced myself to remember something extra, another vital piece that would save me from myself, from the situation, a clarification. But nothing came. It was just a huge void full of unanswered queries.

  Alongside a metal bench, I came to standstill. I stooped, and with my hands on my knees, I concentrated on my sneakers, rather than the double vision and muffled ringing in my ear drums.

  Liam had only been away for two days. Yet those vital two days allowed me to spread my wings, and I’d stumbled upon both sides of a story which was based upon nothing but absolute lies, one very sordid memory, and a handwritten note which wasn’t in my handwriting. That alone, was more of a breakthrough than what had sparked in two weeks with Liam by my side at practically every moment.

  The words from my dream replayed in my mind in that incredibly sexy lilt. ‘Don’t fight it’. And in that moment, I felt a sliver of lucidity. I needed to do what the Kady, who I don’t know, used to do. Walk a mile in her shoes so to speak.

  Straightening my posture, I took a welcomed swig of water, and inwardly prayed that the path which I was about to stumble down, would have me stumbling upon unlocked doors.

  Sweaty, weak and still slightly panting, I was standing in the center of Bricksdale Square. I drew in a breath, rolled my lips over my teeth, and studied the golden script on the pink hanging above the window.

  “Is that, Kady Jenson?” I overheard a female’s voice from outside the patisserie next door to my shop. Peeking at the gathering of women from under the lip of my cap, I spotted them staring and huddling closer together like a waddle of penguins. Disinclined to get into a conversation, that woman gave me the courage to step inside, ducking out of any possible chance of an inquisition.

  The bell rang as the door opened. I stepped onto the light, hardwood flooring, feeling it dip somewhat under my feet.

  “I’ll be with you in a minute,” a voice called from the back as I closed the door behind me.

  The counter extended along the wall to my right. While an assortment of brightly colored cupcakes with frosting topped with butterflies and flowers, were set on trays behind a glass dis
play before me.

  I strolled over to the sofa along the left wall, a portfolio positioned in the middle of the coffee table just ahead of it. I was grateful for the weight being lifted from my trembling, overexerted legs, as I sank onto the edge of the couch. I pulled the white leather bound folder toward me, and began to flick through while I waited.

  Cakes…I had never seen so many in my life: birthday cakes for children and extravagant cakes for the big, important milestone birthdays, wedding cakes, ranging from two-tiers all the way to five-tiers, it was phenomenal; true pieces of edible art.

  Jingling resonated from the metal streamers in the doorway to the back. “I’m sorry about that, can I hel––” Wiping her hands in a towel, the woman froze in her tracks as I lifted my head. Her mouth gradually curved into a delighted grin. “Kady…” she exhaled my name with a soft, caring smile. She rounded the display and started toward me. She was short, probably only five foot two, and that was being generous.

  As I frowned, my left index finger found its way to my lip. “Umm…you must be, Laurie, is it?”

  Her smile broadened. She nodded slowly.

  “Who, umm…who did all of these?” I pointed down at the file perched on the low table ahead.

  Dropping her shoulders, she cocked her head and pushed her specs up from the bridge of her nose. “You did, Kady.”

  I sniggered and arched a brow. “Considering I can’t remember how to bake a cake, I’m finding this level of creativity a little intimidating.” I continued to flip the pages.

  “That one,”––Laurie began, pointing her brow at the photo of a three-tier masterpiece, topped with the Walt Disney Castle––“is what secured your name in this town, Kady. It took about a week to do. The bottom sponge was chocolate, the middle lemon, and the top was red-velvet.”

  I smiled at the mere words, red-velvet.

  With only another two days to possibly get a head start before Liam came back home, and forced me back into the iron box, which was rapidly filling with convincing fabrications, I knew, if I wanted to hotwire the memories in the void, I had to take a leap. I had to not fight it; I had to slip into twenty-seven year old Kady’s ways, no matter how disinclined I felt toward the concept. To be honest, I think a part of me had already unintentionally begun to seep through the barrier.

  “Can you, umm…” I lifted my gaze to meet her petite form. Her hazel eyes were hooded as she folded her arms across her slight chest, glossy burnish-red bangs swept to the left of her brow, while the rest of her hair was hidden beneath a pink cap, with ‘Ent-icing’ embroiled on the front in gold. I cocked my head and picked my nails as she waited patiently for me to resume talking. “Can you help me, Laurie? Please.”

  A gradual pensive smile stole across her pale round face, showcasing pearly-white teeth. She nodded definitively. “Of course I will, Kady. Just tell me how.”

  Chapter Ten

  Laurie put Ent-icing’s delivery van into park outside the house. I hung my head and drew in a liberal inhalation while concentrating on the tatty brown leather notebook in my lap.

  “Hey.” She placed a comforting hand on my knee and gave a supportive squeeze, earning her a direct gaze. She gave way to a glorious smile, her impeccable cheekbones rose, her flawless, pale complexion glowing with eagerness. “You’ll get there, Kady. It’s just going to take a bit of time.”

  Reflectively, I shook my head. If only she knew time is what I didn’t have. I had no chance of coming into my own if Liam came back. With each passing day, he was molding me into something that I never was at twenty-four. I was strong, independent, self-assured, bubbly, and sexy. Now I’m a person who constantly apologizes and freezes up when some random guy asks for my purse, what the fuck? The old me would have kicked him in the balls, and fought Walker off to sort my attacker out myself.

  “Thank you, Laurie. I appreciate it.” I flipped through the pages of the notebook filled with cake and frosting recipes. “I don’t suppose I took step by step photos as well?”

  She laughed, tossing her head back against the rest. She slapped my leg twice playfully. “No, Kady you didn’t. But I’m sure it’ll come back to you. Just remember, if the center springs back when you press on it, then it’s done. If you’re unsure, a skewer will come out clear if you pierce it.”

  I nodded and began to open the van door. With my legs dangling out of the doorframe, I was halted as she called my name. I craned my head over my shoulder.

  “Here, you’ve never produced anything less than amazing while wearing it.” She grinned and handed me a folded black apron, the company name embroiled in gold across the chest while the ties coiled around the material. With the fabric in my hands, I held it like the Queens crown was about to rest upon it.

  “If you see a fire engine pass, you know I fucked up.” I slipped from the seat, and dropped heavily to the sidewalk. “Wish me luck,” I muttered with an exaggerated eye roll then slammed the door behind me.

  “Good luck.”

  Overall and leather-bound book deposited on the kitchen island, I began to search the kitchen cupboards and the refrigerator for ingredients. Once the items were set down neatly, I tackled the obstacle of finding the equipment I needed. Damn the kitchen was huge. Two weeks I’d been back, and still I didn’t know my way around the place.

  After fifteen minutes of ripping the area apart, everything I needed I was set on the island, goading me with imminent failure.

  Scowling at the inanimate objects, I puffed, “Fuck it,” with a blatant groan, and paced from the kitchen to go and have a much needed shower to gain some extent of levelheadedness, before attempting this fiasco.

  Sweat-infused clothing was peeled off my body, and tossed into the Wicker laundry basket in the corner of the en-suite. Pleased that I managed to stabilize the pressure on my own, I stepped into the double, white and golden cubicle, and with a showerhead the size of the depiction of the US on a globe, spewing out its scalding, purifying water, I tipped my head back and gasped a little as I adjusted to the heat.

  I was welcoming the excessive high temperature as it penetrated my aching, overworked muscles, when the obtrusive thought struck as I raked my hands over my sodden locks and reached for the shampoo. Walker stood naked, in this very spot less than twenty-four hours ago. Rolling my neck, I lifted my right hand to rub my shoulder. I stroked my body, eliminating the water beads on my flesh before they were promptly replaced. He stood right where I am now, doing exactly what I am doing now…stroking his body…

  My musing overshadowed any logic as I strived to shake the image.

  Unpremeditated, the visualization of the panther, which spanned the length of his entire back, writhing and twisting as his tan covered muscles shifted and tensed annexed my mind. Within that moment, I considered how the extensive piece of art would writhe if he was…

  Oh, fuck…I was in trouble…

  Still, my breathing continued at an uneven, wild pace. My breasts were heavy burdens on my chest as my nipples tightened, along with the muscles in my groin as I screwed my eyes shut, forcing that decadent image away, only to be superseded by the intensity of my morning dream. His arm as it rounded my waist, the finality of the lock being twisted; restraining me with not only his large, muscular body, but by a weighted desire which was reflected in the depths of his eyes.

  Finally finding its way between my legs, my hand dropped down my body, and I gasped as the tip of my finger made contact with my clit, before sinking inside and breaching my entrance as his image successfully breached my intellect. My body made it known that it craved to feel strong, demanding arms around me, the exact ones that I encountered last night. With stimulating strokes, I worked myself over while I sunk my teeth into my lip.

  Under the stream, my lip rolled free before they parted. I spluttered the water which gathered as I panted softly, circling my fingers deep inside as achy muscles, which were long overdue to see any action, cinched around them, drawing them deeper into my void. I was lost in the moment,
my hand working leisurely at my core, my mind’s eye working ruthlessly on producing images that I knew I shouldn’t have been using to aid in my release.

  It was wrong. It was treacherous. But my fucking God, it was what I so desperately needed.

  As the shampoo bottle plummeted to the stall floor, my hand shot to the cold, slippery tile of the wall. Soft whimpers were shadowed by the cascading water which left sharp heated prickles all over my naked body.

  ‘Don’t think I’ll let them stop me from getting the answers I want from you’. The words which reiterated in my mind in that sexy, pleasant brogue had me drawing my finger from my void, and smoothing the slickness which coated it, over my clit, orbiting the tiny ball of highly sensitive, frenzied nerve endings with unrestrained vigor. Tipping my head back, my chest rose and fell painfully with each fierce, jagged breath. Irrepressible gyrations of my hips alongside gentle clit spankings and glorious, frantic motions over my slicked center were luring me to my explosive climax.

  Consumed by an eager, determined rhythm, my legs buckled and a strangled, feral intonation of Walker’s name lurched from my lips as the addictive, delicious pressure in my core tightened and radiated through my body in an incessant muscle spasm, that had my eyes rolling, and my lungs incinerated.

  Spiraling down from such an intense high, which I hadn’t experienced in a while, under hot water, was not a good idea. My hand was still pressed against the slippery tile in front of me as I took deep, steadying breaths. My head began to spin, my vision doubled and blurred––yet another reason why Walker was no good for me.

  With muffled ringing in my ears, sinuses burning as I drank in a breath and throat drying as I ousted it through pursed lips, I concentrated methodically on finishing my shower, before I passed out. Knowing my luck, it would be Mrs. Steinbeck to find my naked ass, should it so happen.

  I exited the shower and tossed on an old pair of fashionable, ripped jeans that I found at the back of the drawer, a black camisole and twisted my hair up into a clip, totally uncaring that I hadn’t used the hairdryer.