by Devon Ashley
I still shivered when I thought of those men. And I had lied to Nana when I said I learned about sex in the high school locker room. Unfortunately, I learned about it way too young simply by being around my mom.
“Why’d you tell me that?” he asked with the softest voice.
Shrugging, I replied, “I don’t know. Guess it just seemed like a good time for a confession. And you were mad at me for not calling Nana to get your number. You can’t call a dead woman.”
His fingers slid over mine, covering them and grabbing ahold right there on my thigh. His grasp was warm, comforting, his hands smoother than I expected given his line of work. He must’ve worn gloves a lot. I lazily looked over. “Do you forgive me?”
“Kind of have to, don’t I?”
We sat there in silence for a while, but there was something soothing about it. Consoling. I still felt a little dead and damaged inside, but I wasn’t crying about it at the moment.
Between us, Owen’s phone vibrated on the hard ground. Lis’ name appeared on the screen, but he made no move to answer it, even though his eyes skimmed downward to see who was calling. When it finally stopped, the screen flashed a note stating Four Missed Calls before it faded to black.
Wonder how many of those were from Lis…
Even more time passed in silence before he finally said quietly, “Today is the anniversary of my mother’s death.”
Everything inside me tensed. I wanted to cry what?, gasp, drop my mouth open, or something. Anything. But I froze, too afraid to turn and face what he’d just admitted.
“Every year Brady and I went to the gravesite and left her flowers. But I couldn’t do it this time. Not alone. Not with three graves beneath my feet. I got all the way there but I couldn’t get out of the car. The grass hasn’t even sprouted over him yet.”
A solitary tear ran down my cheek. “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled. “I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like. With my mom…well, she’s never really even been there to begin with. But Nana. If something were to happen to her… I just don’t know what I’d do.”
“Probably rot away until you’re nothing.”
By the way he said it, I sensed he was referring more to himself than taking a shot at me. He roughly stroked his face a few times, sighing heavily repetitively.
“You’ve still got Lis, Owen.”
He practically choked on the air within his chest. “Yeah,” he mumbled. I got the impression she was hardly enough. Which was confusing given they’d been together so long.
“You’ve still got your friends. No one’s going anywhere.”
His head lightly thunked against the wood panel before it rolled my way. “Does that include you? Or are you going to run off and disappear again?”
I sighed and turned my attention back to the workshop before me. What was I going to do now? I hadn’t really thought about it since Brady would no longer be a factor in my decision-making process. I was falling hard for him. I would’ve changed my school for him. I would’ve stayed, just like he asked me to. And I never got the chance to tell him. To tell him that I was falling in love with him. He died without me saying it. That was something I could never get back.
And now I was alone, my heart stark and void. What was I going to do now? Not too long ago I couldn’t imagine a world with Brady in it. Now, I didn’t know how to go about in a world he wasn’t a part of. It was like I was stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel. Rocking back and forth with my past behind me and my future before me. There was no going back, only forward, only I was jammed in place with no idea how to get going again.
I swallowed down the thickness growing in my throat. With honesty, I told him, “I don’t know about the end of summer, but even if I do leave, I won’t be leaving leaving, okay? Not this time.
“And I’m serious, Owen. Your friends will have your back. No one expects you to do this alone.”
“I’m really tired of death, Tessa. It just seems like something’s out to get my family, picking us off one by one. Like we’re cursed.”
Part of me thought he was right. But luckily, I didn’t have to come up with a response to counter that. Ear-piercing brakes demanded our attention as they squealed to a stop outside. I had no idea who that could be, and if Owen did, he sure didn’t let on.
A single car door slammed, then hurried steps made their way inside the barn. His hand abandoned mine.
“Owen?” Lis called out. He didn’t answer, letting her find him like he did to me. Her gaze fell to me before moving on to him, taking in our pathetically slumped bodies sitting side by side. Then her eyes caught the phone on the floor and tightened just a bit.
“Why aren’t you answering the phone? I’ve been calling all day.”
Owen cleared his throat. “I didn’t feel like talking.”
Lis’ eyes fell onto me again, as if to say then why the hell is she here?
“In his defense,” I cut in before she could start with the accusations, “we haven’t really been talking. Mostly just sitting. And staring.”
I must’ve looked pathetically lifeless. Hell, we must’ve both looked pathetically lifeless, because her demeanor immediately softened. I could tell she wanted to speak to him, so I forced my Jell-O jiggly muscles to stand, still weak in the knees from lack of energy. I grabbed the muffins and said, “I’ll just go put these in the freezer,” before making my way out.
The back door to the house was open, and I had a sneaky suspicion it hadn’t been locked in a very long time. And just like I’d thought, the refrigerator and freezer was jam-packed with foil-topped casserole dishes. I was happy to see that at least one of them was empty and soaking in the sink basin.
I turned and faced the darkness of the rest of the house, which was eerily quiet save the hum of the refrigerator. The air was warm and stuffy, like the air conditioner no longer ran now that Brady wasn’t inside to use it. …And I thought this house had an empty feeling before.
My feet were slow but they quietly made their way up the stairs and down the hall. Tears threatened the moment I stood in the threshold of Brady’s room, my feet reluctant to push on. After a long moment, my hand swept upward and flicked on the light. I gasped silently. It was just as we’d left it that morning. The linens were messily folded back, a pillow still on the floor and the sheets still wrinkled from our nightly romp. The shirt he wore that day was tossed carelessly on the bed, probably in haste to change into his gun-metal gray athletic shirt – the last thing he would ever put on.
I sat on the edge of the bed and covered my face with his shirt, inhaling. I filled my lungs, taking in the mixture of cologne and body wash that comforted me every night I slept here. His scent was so fresh that for a moment it cruelly tricked me into believing he was still here, that he had just stepped out of the room and would be back for me any moment. But the house was sorrowfully quiet, and I burst into tears the moment I remembered that wasn’t possible. Brady was gone. My boyfriend was gone and he could never come back. Soon his scent would fade and leave me completely alone. It made me want to take everything he owned and package them up in Ziplocs to keep him trapped forever, to keep him here indefinitely, the way he should’ve been all along.
I let the tears fall freely, dabbing at them lightly with the soft cotton. I didn’t care. I was taking this shirt with me. And when my eyes spotted the bottle of cologne on the dresser, I mindlessly moved to grab it, relishing in the thought of being able to hold onto a part of his scent forever.
I knew I should tell Owen I was taking these things. I doubted he’d want to keep them for himself, but a pain in my heart told me I should at least run it by him. Brady was all he had left. I pulled my phone from my back pocket and dialed.
“Hello?”
“Oh! So what?” I heard Lis shout in the background. “You’ll answer her call but not mine?”
“She’s in my house,” Owen replied calmly. “Clearly she needs something.”
Right…he wasn’t alone out there. I cringe
d immediately, realizing I was the source of Lis’ current shriek.
“I need something! Anything already!” she shouted back.
I ended the call. Now was obviously not the time. I took one last look at the room, turned off the light and closed the door. Maybe someday soon enough Owen and I would be able to deal with cleaning it up. But given the condition of the rest of the house and how his parents’ things were still laying around like they’d never left, I had the feeling I might have to tackle it on my own.
I left the shirt and cologne in my car, then headed back around the house. I could hear the yelling long before I reached the barn and decided it was best to take a seat on the wooden glider that sat just outside. Part of me wanted to bail and flee for home, but that nagging little voice inside my head kept reminding me that I literally just told Owen I’d be there for him. I couldn’t jump ship the moment he had it out again with his argumentative girlfriend.
Unfortunately, I could hear her shrieky complaints all too clearly. “You’ve never loved me!” “You’re such a selfish ass!” Even, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” I was sure he was answering everything thrown his way, but his soft-spoken voice never rose high enough to travel.
Lis screamed, frustration saturating her ill-tempered melody. Birds in the nearby tree took flight and I suddenly wished I had that option. Fly away birds, fly away.
I groaned to myself, my hands moving to cup my ears. No more birds. No more birds. I won’t break down. I won’t break down.
Breathing in deeply, I let the air back out just as slowly. Again and again, all the while trying not to hear the birds, trying not to hear the yelling girl.
Poor Owen. He didn’t need this. No wonder he didn’t answer her calls.
“Are you coming or not? Tell me right now.” Whatever his answer was, all it did was infuriate her more. She half screamed, half grunted before barreling out the barn doors shouting, “That’s it! I am so fucking tired of this bullshit! I’m done!”
I expected Owen to come chasing after, just like he’d always done every other time I witnessed them have it out. But he didn’t. Maybe he was finally willing to let her go.
If only Brady had lived long enough to see it. Course he probably would’ve torn into her for treating him the way she had. Come to think of it, I didn’t appreciate it either. Neither had any of his friends. This bitch had been a stain on their lives for way too long. And to pull this shit today of all days. She’d been his girlfriend for years. No way she didn’t know this was the anniversary of his mother’s death. He made an effort year after year to visit her grave. Inconsiderate bitch!
Before I knew it, I jumped to my feet and yelled, “Hey! Wait up!” and hustled to catch up.
Lis held up just as her hand opened the car door. “Finally. At least someone here gives a shit.”
She might’ve felt that way for a second, but the moment my hand slapped hard across her cheek, her expression did a complete one-eighty. “You fucking bitch,” I bit, curling my lip and shaking my head in disgust. Her mouth was still dropped from shock, and her hand moved to caress the pinkness already brightening her cheek. “Why the fuck would you do that? Today of all days?”
Her eyes tightened as her mouth began to work itself into motion again. “Well what about me, huh? Why’s it gotta be all about him? You think I’m not sorry his brother died? I am. But Jesus!” With dramatic fashion, she fisted her hands and swung her forearms downward. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for his ass to get in gear and leave this shithole with me. But nooooo. There was always some lame ass reason to stay. Well there’s officially no more reasons to stay. All he has left here are fucking ghosts!”
God, I just wanted to smack her again. I fisted my own hands to keep them grounded. “Well maybe he needs the damn ghosts! Did you ever stop to think about that? Maybe being surrounded by all their memories is comforting! And maybe you’d know this if you had actually ever lost anyone! But I’m guessing you haven’t since you went and did something this seriously fucked up! And maybe, it’s your damn insensitivity that makes everyone dislike you so fucking much! So news flash! When you pull this kind of shit, no one’s going to be interested in what your whiney ass has to say!”
I’d never seen a pair of eyes so angry before, her chest puffing up and down as deeply as mine. Fine by me. I knew Owen must’ve cared about her to some extent through the years, but I officially didn’t give a shit about her goddamn feelings.
“Fuck you,” she spat, swinging her door open hard. Dropping roughly to her seat, she added, “Fuck all of you.” Lis slammed her door, turned the engine over and peeled out of the yard, kicking up a dust storm.
Good riddance.
I took a moment to calm my frantic, pissed off emotions and slapped at my shorts until the dust Drama Queen had covered me with dissipated. Once I made my way back inside, I found Owen reclined in one of his own rocking chairs, his foot kicked up on the work table, keeping the angle steady. His eyes opened when I neared, and his head rolled my way. Oddly enough, his facial features didn’t paint him as all that upset. Maybe it was just one hit too many and he was all numbed out. Hell, maybe he was actually relieved to be free of Lis already. I suddenly was and I liked her just fine up until a few minutes ago.
“Want to get drunk?” I asked.
I had forgotten it was Thursday. Eight-thirty no less. And by the dumbfounded look on Owen’s face, he too had no idea of the date and time. But there they were, sitting at a large round table for just the three of them, glasses and pitchers of beers waiting in the middle like they expected everyone to show up any minute.
Seven glasses. There were still seven, though only six could possibly show. And by the way Owen and I exchanged the solemnest of glances, neither of us missed the full glass of beer that sat before an empty chair that would never be consumed.
Rory spotted us first, but only because she was the one whose back didn’t face us. Words I couldn’t hear escaped the lips of her stunned expression, then Sarah and Matt turned to seek us out.
I hadn’t intended on sitting with anyone but Owen. I hadn’t even thought far enough ahead to wonder what I would say or do if Sarah or Rory were working. If my brain had actually been working, I would’ve insisted we headed to a different bar. Owen was probably thinking the same thing now, but at the time, his mind was probably on autopilot when he drove us here.
“If we’re not ready for this, we can ask to sit alone. I doubt they’d blame us.”
“Are you ready for this?” he asked softly.
“Probably not,” I honestly replied. “You?”
“Probably not. But we’re going to have to now, aren’t we?”
“Probably, yeah.” Because neither of us were the type who could say what needed to be said. That we still needed time. That questions and awkward conversations we wanted nothing to do with were only going to make us more uncomfortable. That we weren’t ready for society. That at the moment, we were hardly accepting of one another.
“Cuckoo.”
“What?” I asked with confusion.
“That’s our safe word. If one of us uses it, we find a way to bail.”
Cuckoo. How appropriate. “Okay,” I agreed, following his lead as he moved to take one of the chairs at the table. I could feel all three pairs of eyes on us, but I only had eyes for the glass of beer that sat next to Matt. We skipped that seat and took the next two. Kind of appropriate, really. It left a buffer to each of our sides. It was better that way. A little more distance, a little more separation.
“Hey,” Sarah said first, testing the waters for the three of them. Rory and Matt just kind of looked at us sympathetically.
“Hey,” we both mumbled back.
“I didn’t think you guys would show tonight.” My eyes darted straight to the glasses hanging out between us, their exteriors no longer frosty. Quickly, Sarah added, “But we totally hoped you would.” The other two nodded their heads, still too afraid to engage with their mouths.
He turned back to Sarah. “I think we’re going to need something a little stronger tonight.”
“Right,” she agreed, rising to her feet. “Be right back.”
As I glanced between the two left in front of me, I didn’t know who was more uncomfortable. Us…or them? In a room full of chit-chatters and semi-rowdy people, our table sat in silence, awkwardly looking everywhere but at each other.
I leaned closer to Owen. With a low voice only he could hear, I asked, “Are you cuckoo yet?”
“Yes, but I want the drink more.” He sounded as numb as I felt.
Sarah returned, two shot glasses gripped in each hand. She placed two in front of me and two in front of Owen. Their liquids were both dark in color, but I could see a hint of difference in the brownish shades. She poured each of us a glass of beer, then moved to grab one of our shots.
“For Owen,” Sarah said, dropping in his shot glass, “a Boilermaker.” Then she moved to mine. “For Tessa, the Flamin’ Dr. Pepper.” I just raised my brows at her, half expecting her to literally light it on fire.
And then she did. She quickly dropped the shot into my beer and blue flames erupted before burning out. “Drink fast,” she ordered. I cautiously took a sip, figuring the concoction was going to fire up my stomach in ways that didn’t work for me. My lips jerked away from the glass. It definitely had a major kick to it, but it also tasted similar to Dr. Pepper. Awesome, I thought, braving heavier sips.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Amaretto and Everclear.”
Owen had no problem gulping down half of his, and given the evening he’d had, I couldn’t blame the man.
“And his?”
“Whiskey,” Matt said for her, a grin inching across his face now that he knew our mouths weren’t going to bite.
