I dared myself to keep believing in the fairytale.
Chapter Four
LIFE SUCKS
IT WAS GETTING HARDER and harder for Alex to crawl out of bed. He hadn’t slept well in months. It always seemed that he finally got to sleep just when the alarm was about to go off. He grabbed his jeans from off the floor and a clean shirt out of the closet. After pulling a comb through his wet hair, he headed out the door.
He hated to walk past the garage. It was the reason he couldn’t sleep.
Chapter Five
FEARS
I AWOKE TO A BITTERSWEET MORNING. I smiled because Alex would be coming over tonight to work on the video, yet, as the move drew nearer, I wondered why I continued to kid myself. Even if Alex did ask me to prom, I doubted that a relationship would survive the miles. Looking over at the amazing dress that hung from my closet door frame, I felt fear, but not about prom. Prom was just the cover-up. I was afraid that I’d never find another Alex, I’d never get my kiss, and I’d never live my fairytale.
Shifting back into my comfort zone of denial, I waited for the hot water to run from the showerhead. I gave myself a pep talk to not waste time dwelling on the future.
“I must be strong,” I spoke the words aloud, hoping for greater effect. Or, at least some effect.
Finally stepping into the shower, the spray washed over my face, making my tears indistinguishable from the rest of the water. I had no right to say it, but I really hated life. I wanted to stay in the shower until every last bit of sorrow washed down the drain.
I emerged just as miserable as I had entered. Like every other morning, after dressing, I put on a little make-up. I liked the way it accented my eyes. But then instead of my usual clear lip-gloss, I opted for bright pink lipstick. Like a clown, my smile needed to be painted on.
It was Thursday, which meant a late start. Mom would already be at work. I made my way to the kitchen and found a note next to a bowl of deep red strawberries waiting on the counter, both from Mom, telling me that she loved me, to eat my breakfast, and have a great day. As I popped a berry in my mouth, I became aware of Dad and Kat sitting at the table.
“Good morning, Em,” Dad called out at me. I didn’t realize it until this second, but we hadn’t spoken since the foreboding news. I looked down at the floor, then back up at him. I nodded my head.
“Good morning, Grumpy-pants,” Kathryn, the annoying, spouted off. At least it broke the tension.
“You’d better run!” I shouted and chased after the screaming, wild brown hair that still didn’t look like it had been combed.
The school parking lot was already filling up with the other one thousand or so students that attended T-West. Some kids like to park close to the doors. I liked to park near the exit to avoid the always-congested dismissal rush. Bailey, along with Rayyan, parked next to me.
“Hey, when do tickets go on sale for the play? It’s next weekend, right?” Rayyan asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Don’t be so excited.” Bailey shifted her books to the other arm.
“I think they go on sale Monday. Where’s Clair?” I asked as I reached behind the back seat of my car to grab my woodwind instruments from their hiding spot. A moan escaped as the lack of practicing skimmed my thoughts.
“She texted me that she’d be late,” Rayyan responded, grabbing her backpack from the floor of her car. “Something about a hair appointment.”
“What? Missing school for hair?” I rolled my eyes.
“She’s all freaked about a hairstyle to match her dress from Sylvester’s,” Rayyan continued.
“Prom is ‘only two weeks away,’” Bailey piped in, making fun of Clair.
A lot of people thought Clair was stuck on herself because she spent so much time on her looks. Once I got to know her, it was obvious she was just insecure. Still, it didn’t help her case for her mom to let her miss school for a hair appointment.
Making our way toward the entrance, I finally saw Alex’s big black Jeep. An elusive smile spread across my face.
“You know,” Bailey said, after noticing my eyes on Alex’s Jeep, “that must have been really awful, to walk into the garage and see your Dad with his brains blown all over the wall.”
I ignored her.
Rayyan elbowed her in the ribs.
“I wonder if it was as bloody as the rumors claim?” Bailey didn’t catch the obvious hint to shut up. “I heard it took two bullets.”
“Maybe you should go wonder somewhere else,” I said.
“I don’t mean to be critical, but it happened over a year ago. A normal person would be over it by now. Quite honestly, Emily, I don’t know what you see in him, anyway. He gives me the creeps. His eyes are so pale, they’re almost white.”
“Man, I can’t believe you are so insensitive,” I rebuked.
“I think he’s cute,” Rayyan said.
Oblivious to the surrounding mood, Bailey began nodding in self approval. “Maybe he has a fear of attachment or something because of it. Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t ask you to prom.”
“Who died and made you Dr. Phil? I don’t care what you think. I like Alex, so just keep your opinions to yourself!”
“Like I said before, I don’t mean to be rude.” Bailey shrugged her shoulders.
“Then stop bashing him. Besides, I still believe he’s going to ask me.”
Bailey’s expression changed from scornful to mild glee. “I think you should find someone else.”
Rayyan groaned. “Don’t start this again.”
“Who? Zachary Melcomb?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Don’t be such a baby. There are more boys out there than Zachary and Alex.”
“Not the way I see it.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about the fireman who rescued you when you were little. Maybe he’ll come back and marry you.”
My heart jumped to my throat. I couldn’t believe she would use that against me. “I still cherish that memory!”
“Like I said, don’t be such a baby.”
Some days I really hated Bailey. Mostly because she was right and not afraid to say it. Unfortunately for me, Bailey’s words infected the rest of my school day. Like a simple sliver that started out painless, it became an oozing sore. Doubts about Alex asking me to prom were becoming hard to ignore.
Walking back to my car, I recapped my entire day with one single word: crap. Especially after Mrs. Stoffer decided to show a documentary, leaving me no chance to flirt with Alex. Throwing my books and instruments in the passenger seat, I looked back over to where Alex’s Jeep had been this morning.
“Oh criminy!” His car was already gone. “He’s going to beat me home.” I looked around to see if anyone noticed I was talking out loud to myself. Safe.
Suddenly, life didn’t seem so bad.
Luck saw to it that I arrived home first to clean up the pigsty that decorated the living room. Alex was going to be here at any moment to work on the movie and this place was a disaster! I grabbed the tablature sheets for my guitar that were spread out all over the floor and stacked them in a sloppy pile on the coffee table. I found seven dirty socks Kat had scatter-bombed around the couch. The eighth one must be lost somewhere in the cushions. Mom made it clear that her job title did not include “maid.” Kat made it obvious she was okay with that. I threw the seven down the laundry chute and came back for a final inspection. It would have to pass.
Realizing Kat was not in the middle of my business, I surmised that she and Dad must have been practicing for track ‘n’ field days again.
Just as I was about to plop on the couch, I heard a car pull up in the driveway. I saw Mom’s car. The front door opened and in walked Alex.
“Alex, what are you doing here?” He was carrying a bag of groceries.
He gave me a puzzled look. “I thought we were working on the movie today.”
Realizing my stupid question, I rephrased. “I mean, I didn’t hear you pull up.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you for your help, Alex.” Mom smiled.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Stokes.” He put the bag on the kitchen counter and added, “You are looking exceptionally nice this afternoon.”
Mom liked his flattery; she knew he wasn’t really interested in her so she enjoyed it. “I hope you like shrimp fettuccini,” she replied as she unloaded the bag.
Alex and I headed for the living room and laid out our storyboard on the coffee table. I sat on the floor across from him so I could look directly at him. It made for easier flirting. We decided to change the character from a serial killer to a random guy committing a single murder for the sole purpose of filming it. We had most of the work completed and just had to come up with a plausible ending.
“How about after he makes the movie, he is so overwhelmed by his actions, he decides to take his own life?” The thought of his father popped into my head and I grimaced. “Or not. I’m sorry.”
Alex exhaled loudly. “No foul, it’s cool. It could work. We could have him hang himself.”
Relieved I didn’t ruin our fun, my enthusiasm grew. “Yeah, like you can hear him talking as he puts the camera down on a table or something, and the lens is pointed off to the side so you only see part of him, he could be throwing a rope up over a beam….”
I didn’t pay much attention to the tantalizing smell coming from the kitchen; of Kat complaining it was not her night to set the table with dishes, or anything else that occurred in the house over the next hour and a half. Lost in the moment and each other, it felt strange talking about murder and death while seductive thoughts lingered just below the surface.
“Time to eat!” Kat yelled at ear level directly behind us.
Alex got up off the couch first and extended his hand to me. Accepting his help, I tried not to smile too big when he kept it, all the way to the table. At last the plan was working, and I could visualize the fairytale ending in the romantic kiss I dreamed about.
“What a delicious looking meal.” Alex inhaled deeply while his eyes scanned the table.
I was proud of Mom. She was an excellent cook and found pleasure in presenting the meal so it looked as good as it would taste. I think it actually made it taste even better. God forbid Alex would ever expect this from me. I was not into cooking, of any kind.
“Well, let’s get this thing started,” Dad said. “I’ve got to get to the bowling alley.”
“Do people still play that?” Alex gawked in disbelief.
“Yes they do,” Dad answered back, undaunted by the youth.
“I always thought that to be pretty lame,” Alex jeered.
“Shut up.” I took offense as a wave of memories poured into my mind. I used to have a lot of fun going glow-in-the-dark bowling with Dad, and it abruptly reminded me why my father was my hero. He was patient, kind, loving. But hugely, he gave me the greatest gift of all—his time.
“Easy there, Blondie,” Alex said. “It’s just bowling.”
I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like I’d been completely dissed. Yeah, actually I did. Because I was.
I tried to let it go.
“Just bowling.” His words echoed in my head.
Who did Alex think he was, insulting us like that? After all, I defended Alex from Bailey all the time. As the conversation turned elsewhere, I couldn’t move past the bowling thing, and I questioned the real source of my bitterness. After dinner, I walked away from the table with a blackened fairytale.
Alex took to the couch and I sat on the floor opposite him. “I have a pounding headache,” I said, swirling a design against the nap of the carpet.
“You don’t look very happy. Maybe we should stop here and pick it back up tomorrow?” Alex suggested.
“I think that would be good.” My voice sounded harsh, even to me.
Alex tugged at his chin. “Is everything okay with you?”
OMG. You are being a dork, my fairytale is more like a nightmare, I’m about to move to an entirely different city, and you are wondering if everything is all right?
“Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe just a little tired.” I tried to sound more pleasant.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you later then.” He stood up, straightened his shorts and proceeded to stretch his arms high above head, allowing his stomach to peek out from under the bottom of his shirt.
My eyes liked what they saw, but my heart was still mad. Why couldn’t he just ask?
Alex walked over to the front door. I hovered a few feet back.
“Talk to you tomorrow,” he said, closing the door behind him.
Wishing I could divert my preoccupation about Alex with a cucumber facial, I was patting my face dry when mom poked her head in through the open door. She stepped in and waited for me to say something.
I threw my towel on the counter. “It’s just not fair!” I blurted out. “I know you’re going to tell me that life doesn’t have to change with the move, but it’s going to. I won’t see my friends anymore and—”
“Emily, dear.”
“Sure, maybe for a while, but that will be all. A while!” I heard myself nearly yelling but I didn’t care. “Just like when Jill Jenkins moved away. How long did it take—three weeks? She was my best friend, Mom.”
A sense of betrayal hit me hard in the stomach, making me wince. I’d never allowed myself to acknowledge that whole painful scene before. Now here I was, faced with complete exile.
“And all the stupid hoopla over prom!” Within an instant, my mother vanished beneath the wall of water welling up in the rims of my eyes. Just as quickly, the salty tears flooded their confines and poured out like a burst dam.
Mom approached me with her palms stretched out. My tears flowed too fast and she disappeared again. I blinked to reveal a distressed smile embedded in empathy. She reached for my hands and gently worked her fingertips into my fists.
“You are right, my dear little one.” She held my hands and searched my eyes. “It is not fair. But there is an entire world outside of Topeka waiting to be discovered.”
I longed to be small enough to be cradled in her arms. Mom seemed to sense this and led me to the overstuffed rocking chair that used to belong to my grandpa. She sat first and I snuggled up in her lap. Just like when I was little, she pushed back against the floor with her feet and set the chair in motion. Mom began to sing.
“Hush little baby don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mocking bird,” her sweet voice was just louder than a whisper. “And if that mocking bird don’t sing, Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring don’t shine—”
Although she had sung this song to me countless times before, I choked out a laugh at my epiphany of the entire song. “It’s no wonder why women find comfort in shopping.”
A sad smile crossed her face. “We are pathetic creatures at times.” She caressed my leg even though it was probably cutting off her circulation.
“When did you meet Dad?”
“I met your father shortly after moving to Kansas back in 1989, during the BTK serial killings.” Joy replaced the sadness as she spoke.
My eyes grew wide. “The bind, torture, and kill dude?”
“Yes. Even though the murders had been taking place in the lower half of the state, it was a dormant time for him. I was young, and paranoid that the BTK murderer might relocate in my area to start another killing spree.”
“How can you tell this story with a smile on your face?”
“Lord knows I dislike guns, but I went to buy one, just for that false sense of security. And, well, there was this very charming man who helped me…”
“Was it Dad?”
A distant glow warmed her eyes. “I never bought a gun; I got your father instead.”
“Mom! Picking up strange men.” Her story made me smile too.
She cringed and laughed at the same time. “It’s not like I made a habit out of it.”
“I know. Just teasing. But you never knew each other in school?”
“Never.” M
om’s smile came to a close. Then, as loving and supporting as a mother holding her newborn infant, she gave me another hug. “Remember Em, life is an adventure.”
Friday passed with little consequence. Alex and I finished our storyboard, but without the flirting. Stupid jerk. I still had an entire week before prom, but the constant ache in my stomach seemed to be telling me that I waited in vain.
And, it was getting harder to face my friends. I knew once I confessed the move, my whole scheme of denial would fall apart, and I just didn’t have the energy to come up with something new. Why did life have to be so hard?
When Saturday morning arrived, the house was quiet. A note on the counter explained that my parents were already busy with plans of their own, and reminded me that Kat would still be at her friend’s house after last night’s sleepover. Yay for me.
I enjoyed being alone. It left me free to create my music. So upon my bed, I closed my eyes and began to play. Instantly, rhythmic sounds flowed from my guitar. It seemed I had just started when the phone rang. Caller ID revealed it was Alex Hibbs.
“Hello.”
“What time do you want to get together?” he asked in a cheerful voice. “We still need to work on our project.”
A part of me wanted to see him, a part of me wanted to shake some sense into him, and yet another part of me wanted to yell, “never!” and hang up the phone. His reluctance, coupled with my own issues over moving, was definitely making me crazy. I could hardly stand being seventeen and already plagued with emotional baggage.
“Oh, how about some time this morning? Where?” I asked.
A Kiss for Emily (Emily Stokes Series) Page 3
