So yes, I’m scared. No, terrified, but deep down I know that part of claiming responsibility for the humiliation of what I was is to stop hiding from the consequences. I’m here because I know I’ll never be able to accept I’ve changed until I prove it to them, that I’ll never be able to forgive myself until I face the punishment for my sins. I thought I came for Casey, but as I stand here in silence, trying to stop the shaking, the truth hits me hard like it so often does. I brace myself as it crashes down, rooting me in a reality I hadn’t truly understood until this moment.
I’m not just here for my best friend; I’m here for my execution.
∞∞∞
The plan is to head over to Casey’s brother Nate’s house for a barbeque. I brace myself at the announcement, which doesn’t come as a surprise, just a disappointment, and do my best to project a nonchalant front as we leave the hotel and head to the car.
I hate the somber silence that’s settled over us as we drive. I can feel them all watching me, evaluating. They think I haven’t noticed that they’re acting like this is my funeral, not Casey’s father’s, but I try to remind myself it’s only because they care so much.
“It shouldn’t be everyone tonight. Just Nate, Abby, Molly. Maybe some others,” Casey muses, glancing over at me briefly before focusing back on the road.
I swallow and turn to him. “Ok.” I force in more air. “Do they know I’m coming?”
Casey answers with an uncomfortable silence, and I turn back to the window, my stomach dropping.
“I’m sorry, man, I just…Molly will be cool with it.”
I nod. “Yeah, ok. It’s probably better this way.” Suddenly, I feel a hand on my arm and glance back at Holland who’s leaning forward from the back seat.
“If we have to sit in the car all night, we sit in the car,” she says with a smile. I try to return it.
“Casey and I will run food to you,” Callie adds, and my grin finally breaks.
“Thanks. Make sure you bring some of Abby’s iced tea too. It’s fantastic.”
“It’s pretty killer,” Casey agrees. “Iced tea is the only thing Abby does well in the kitchen.”
“Casey!” Callie cries.
“What? It’s true. Isn’t it true, Luke? Remember that time she made us that vegetable lasagna?”
“With the carrots?” I laugh. “Oh man, that was awful.”
“Was that supposed to be carrots? I had no idea what it was. It tasted like dirty chalk. That’s all I remember.”
“You two are so mean!” Callie chides.
“No, that lasagna was mean,” Casey retorts, and I can’t help but snicker.
“It was pretty bad, Cal. Even Elena…” I freeze.
Casey glances at me. They all do. I can’t move.
“Even Elena hated it and suggested she try a different recipe next time,” Casey finishes for me. I give him a weak smile as the heaviness starts to overwhelm me again.
Holland clears her throat. “Well, then, I guess you don’t have to bring us any of that,” she remarks, squeezing my arm.
And the air finally makes its way back into my lungs.
∞∞∞
I don’t know why I had even bothered hoping we’d be able to sneak into the gathering unnoticed. I swear every conversation dies as we come into view, every eye converging on us. I’ve never felt so exposed in my entire life, and my heart sinks as I take in the crowded deck and surrounding patio. It’s not just Nate, Abby, and Molly. It’s everyone, all of them, and the panic begins to mount as my brain and body clue in to the fact that hell’s about to break loose now, not tomorrow like I’d been bracing for. I wasn’t ready for twenty-four hours from now, let alone twenty-four seconds.
“Shit,” Casey mutters, and we exchange a quick glance before he plasters his signature grin on his face.
Molly makes the first move and comes running over, throwing herself into her big brother’s arms.
“You made it!” she cries. “Thank you.” Her huge smile fades when her eyes rest on me. I read every bit of concern in her expression, and try to steady my breathing. “Luke, hey. You came too.”
“Of course I did,” I manage. She smiles again, sweet, genuine, and gives me a hug as well. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, but…” she stops and glances back at our audience. I can’t even begin to do the same. “She’s here, Luke,” she whispers, searching my eyes. “They’re all here. I didn’t know you were coming or…”
I force a smile. “I know. It’s ok. I’m here to face them.”
She stares at me, they all are now, and I finally dare a glance at the crowd.
“You sure, man?” Casey asks, clearly hesitant.
“Better here than at the church, right?” I reason. He seems to understand, but neither of us has any illusions that there’s a “better” in any of this.
I can’t even look at Holland and Callie.
“Hi, everyone,” Casey announces, leading us toward the line of gaping stares. “Good to see you all. This is my girlfriend, Callie, for those of you who haven’t met her yet. Oh, and my good friend, Holland. Of course you all know Luke.” He climbs the stairs of the deck with his animated Casey Barrett spring and surveys one of the well-stocked food tables. “Aunt Marjorie! Your deviled eggs. Fantastic! Cal, you have to try these,” he calls, waving Callie over. She gives me an apologetic shrug before following Casey’s lead, and I try to remain steady. I know Holland is watching me, waiting to see what I do next. Hell, they all are, but I have no idea where to go from here. Molly, ever sensitive, loops her arm in mine and leads me forward as well.
“How was your trip in?” she asks, both of us pretending we’ll actually succeed at making small talk right now.
“Fine, thanks. No delays.”
“That’s great. Holland, it’s so nice of you to come support Casey.”
Holland’s smile looks a lot more vibrant and genuine than anything that could come out of me at the moment. “Casey always seems to be there for those who need him. Of course we had to jump in when he needed us.”
Molly is clearly touched and glances back at her older brother. “He has a huge heart.”
“So I’m learning. I’m sorry, what was your name again? Are you Molly?” Holland asks as we reach the stairs also.
She laughs and nods. “Yeah, Molly Barrett. Sorry. My brother may have a huge heart, but he sucks at manners.”
Holland grins.
“Luke, hey. Been a while, huh?” I turn and meet the new voice as Holland and Molly continue their conversation.
“Oh, hi, Nate. Yeah, it has. How are you doing? How are the kids?”
Nate smiles. “Good, good. Yeah, everyone’s good. They’re running around here somewhere. Heard you’re touring again.”
I nod. “Yeah, I am. It was a long road back, but we’re getting there.”
“Um, yeah…well, hey, that’s great. Good luck to…”
A loud crash stops his sentence, and we spin toward the growing vacuum in the center of the gathering.
“No! No way! How dare you!” The shrieks match the shattered bowl of pasta salad sprayed all over the rough wood, and I don’t even need to see the speaker to know the voice. I’d recognize that hatred anywhere.
Casey moves to jump in, but I shake my head, blocking his rescue.
“Aunt Gina,” I acknowledge quietly, stepping forward to face her.
The crowd has instinctively begun to back away from our confrontation, and I forget about everything, everyone else.
“You disgusting, son-of-a-bitch! What are you doing here? Why would you think for a second you’d be welcomed here?!”
I start to shake. I hate it, but I can’t stop it and draw in a deep breath, trying to control the trembling, the panic.
“Can we talk about this somewhere else so we don’t disrupt dinner?”
“Yeah, sure, run and hide! That’s just like you!”
“I’m not hiding, Aunt Gina, I just…”
“I told you never to ca
ll me that again! I am not your aunt. I am nothing to you.”
“Please, can we just…”
“The biggest mistake I ever made was agreeing to take you from your whore of a mother! I should have known you’d end up just like her no matter what I did! You know she’s dead, right?” I feel like a club hit me as I stare at her in shock. She must read it, but has no mercy.
“No, of course you wouldn’t know that. Why would you? You’ve never shown an ounce of concern for anyone but yourself. Well, and those sluts who throw themselves at you at your concerts!” Her eyes burn as she charges toward me. “You may have the world fooled, thinking you’re some kind of rock god or something, but we know who you are, what you are! We know the sludge that pumps through your veins and oozes out of your cold, dead heart.” She shoves me hard as she moves past me toward the stairs.
My vision is blurring, the air suddenly so thick I think I can feel it closing around my throat. Only one phrase slithers through the darkness in my head and it escapes before I can even consider what’s happening.
“You’re right.”
She stops. They all stop, and the silence is heavy as it settles over us.
It’s finally interrupted by a bitter laugh, and I flinch. “Oh, I am? I’m right, but…but what, Luke? What hilarious, ridiculous excuse are we getting this time?” She throws up her hands in anger. “I have nothing else to say to you!”
I close my eyes and struggle for words, anything. My heart is racing, my blood pounding so hard in my ears I don’t even know if I’ll hear whatever comes out of my mouth next, but I have to stop fighting the words. I just have to stop fighting.
“There are no buts this time. No excuses. You don’t have to say anything. It’s my turn to say something to all of you.”
The tears start to rise, heavy in my chest, but I can’t do that right now, cry. I need words, not tears, to have any hope of a future. “I do know what I’ve done, what I was,” I begin, standing before them all, the giant eye staring at me, accusing me. “I have to live with that every second of every day. The pain of trying to atone for something that can never be made right. You’re right, there will be no justice for my sins, my mistakes. And you’re right, I’ve spent a long time hiding.” The trembling has reached my voice and I clench my eyes shut, trying to gain enough control to complete my damning testimony. My self-incrimination.
“I’m not here for forgiveness,” I say finally, quietly, but somehow firm at the same time. I take a deep breath and open my eyes, meeting the jury again. “I’m here to account for what I was.”
∞∞∞
The rest is a blurred nightmare. Those not involved, or who choose an ounce of civility, flee to the house, leaving me alone with the unfiltered hostility. I get pelted with names, dates, places, accusations for things I didn’t even know about. Did I know Elena used to call her cousin Marie at least twice a week sobbing because she knew I was cheating on her? Did I know she kept a file of the many pictures that floated around the gossip stratosphere? Did I know she’d cry herself to sleep more often than not, that she lost seven pounds in a month? Did I not understand how much that woman loved me despite what I was, how I hurt her?
My recent phone hack comes up, of course. They remember those pictures of the blondes from the initial social media explosion. Elena was with her sister Lily the night they found their way into the public eye; the night they charred Elena’s soul. Lily makes sure I understand the horror of every second of that night. How Elena blamed herself. How she thought she must not have been good enough for me to love her. How she started to believe maybe I never did. Did I actually love her? It would be news to any of them.
I can’t breathe the entire time. Can’t even think as the horrific words come at me, each revelation slicing the little that’s left of my strength, tearing me apart with old memories, gutting me with new ones I will now have to carry on my conscience.
I don’t say more than ten words for the next hour, except for answering some of the questions that are barked at me. Mostly no’s. No, I didn’t know. No, I hadn’t. No, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m not allowed to speak beyond that anyway.
Early on, I silently begged Casey to take Callie and Holland away. He knew what was coming as well as I did, and I’m sure he agreed only for their sakes. I could see the concern in his eyes as he convinced them to take a tour of the house, his fear of leaving me alone with the firing squad, but I couldn’t bear the thought of them witnessing this. Their absence is the only thing I have left to hold onto now.
So it’s just me here. Alone. Silent. Condemned.
I’m embarrassed by the tears in my eyes, but I don’t even bother trying to stop them. I just let them gather and slowly slide down my cheeks as I stare at the ground, listening, holding my breath, waiting for the next bullet point on my rap sheet.
I forgot her birthday twice, anniversary pretty much every year. Oh yeah, and then there was the dog. Reilly. Because clearly I wasn’t enough for her. I didn’t meet her needs. The dog now lives with Abby. I tried to make up for getting high and missing Christmas dinner by buying her a diamond necklace. What a joke. Great-Aunt Norma doesn’t even believe I’m not high right now. Great-Uncle Alan is sure I must have some kind of STI.
I’m called names I haven’t heard in a long time, and some I definitely have. Wes’ taunts seem downright kind compared to most of what I get as the seconds turn into minutes that seem like days. And throughout it all, my only remaining blood relation is always there, elaborating on some of the comments, echoing others, nodding at the rest.
Mrs. Barrett doesn’t have as much to say as I would have thought, but I suspect it’s because her silence makes it easier for her to bask in my pain at the bludgeoning by her rallied army. I don’t miss the smirks, the satisfaction that each blow brings to her, but I say nothing as I let them land. Flinching a few times, often fighting the urge to throw up.
And then, suddenly, as quickly as it started, it just stops.
It’s almost eerie how the horrible choir bleeds into total silence, but it’s unmistakable. When it’s clear that the distant sound of a lawn mower has replaced the taunts and accusations, I raise my eyes, tentatively at first, and meet theirs. It seems like each gaze is locked on mine, each face waiting to see what I do with the horrifying chaos just dumped on me. They’re breathing hard too. Some have tears, some still only display the resurrected fury, but we finally all agree on one thing. There are no more words. The words are out. The words are done.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’m so sorry,” I breathe before disappearing down the steps and back to our car.
∞∞∞
I break down the second I’m inside. I was probably stunned for most of what just happened, but as the full extent hits, it knocks everything out from under me. I have no idea what’s happening outside of this moment, or if I’ll even live through it. I can’t breathe from the sobs, pounding the seat with every bit of strength I have left in me. I don’t want to be here right now. I’d do anything to make this pain stop. I hate. I love. I fear, regret. God, everything is slamming into me all at once.
I just can’t fucking breathe!
And then, inexplicably, I’m not alone. A whisper of air slips into the stifling car as the door opens, followed by the soothing scent I’d recognize anywhere. A firm pressure tightens around my back, then my shoulders, then guides me against her. She pulls me tight, allowing my tears to stain her shirt, holding me as I shatter. I can’t even begin to speak or acknowledge what’s happened, what’s happening. I just survive. Survive this moment, like I’ve somehow managed to survive all the rest.
“I’m not going to say you didn’t deserve that, but you’re done now, Luke. You’re done, ok?” Holland whispers, only making the tears come harder. “Please let this be enough. Please.” She buries her head in my shoulder as we both hold on, waiting to see what time does to us. Where it leaves us when, if, it ever shows mercy.
“Why are you stil
l here?” I cry, the words coming out in a muffled sob, but she only holds on tighter. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Because that was incredible, Luke. You took your ugly and made it beautiful. You could have let Elena go and instead let her change you. Because I don’t know if I could ever be as strong as you’ve become.” She lifts my face and looks into my eyes. “Elena’s death is not your fault. She had an illness that took her life, but you still stood there and took their pain.”
“Pain I caused.”
“Some, maybe. And you’ve answered for it. You’ve paid. Now it’s time to honor her.”
I manage a numb nod, silent, exhausted. I’m just so tired all of a sudden. I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing, remembering, honoring, as I collapse against her again. She absently runs her fingers through my hair as we sit in the stillness, and I wonder if I can find a way to fall asleep and let the unconsciousness give me a brief relief from this nightmare.
I am chaos. Holland is peace.
“This is what I signed up for, Luke,” she breathes into the silence. “This is all I’ve ever wanted from you.”
∞∞∞
I eventually pull myself back together, though of course I can never undo my complete self-destruction in front of Holland. I expect the moment that follows to be awkward, but she seems as content as I am to sit in silence, cuddled against each other, staring out the window. She’s leaning against me now, my arm draped over her as she settles into my chest, my own back against the door of the backseat. It’s hard to believe that just a minute ago our universe was a chaotic firestorm and now we’re wrapped in a cozy cloud of peace.
Distant laughter slips into our silence, but it’s almost comforting in a way. Reminding me that as long as it still exists somewhere it might be real again for me one day. Holland traces my fingers, my hand, my wrist, as we sit, and I close my eyes, resting my head against the warm glass.
Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) Page 18
