“Do you want to continue?” I find I actually do.
“So around age two, I think, that is when he stopped letting me leave the house. Occasionally, I would sneak out on the back patio when he wasn’t there, but he always found out, and the beatings weren’t worth it, so I would stare at the clouds and sky through the window. When it was time to go to Kindergarten he bought me a laptop and brought a private tutor in to homeschool me. I am not sure any of his friends knew he had a daughter. Not until I was ‘prime-age,’ as he called it. So all my schooling was done on-line, and I learned to tow the line. Make perfect grades, make sure nothing was out of place, and be perfect. But then that stopped being fun for him. If there was nothing for him to be angry about he didn’t get his power trip. So he would walk in my room and move my pillow to make it crooked right in front of me, then take off his belt and beat me telling me over and over how my pillows should be placed on my bed, and how I must be stupid because I couldn’t do the most menial tasks. I got used to it and started expecting it. That is around the time I quit crying during the beatings. I shut my mind down and went somewhere else. I think I was about nine. That worked for a while, but then when I turned fourteen, everything changed.”
I look at her, “I need to stop today.” I can’t go there.
“If you want, that is more than acceptable. You did wonderful today, and I hope it helps you, but remember, don’t quit pushing yourself. We still have so much more to accomplish, and I am so proud of you. Watching you flourish, facing your fears, slaying your demons.”
I give her a genuine smile, finally able to take the praise I actually deserve.
“There is something else, Teryn. I have a package here, but I want to gauge your reaction. Melanie Reid sent it. She said it was from Brielle James, and while they don’t know where you are, Brielle sent it via Melanie. Would you like it? Do you think you can handle it?” I can’t breathe. I remember my techniques and work myself out of the panic attack encroaching on me. I can’t believe Brielle sent me something. Even if it is a screw-off letter, she took the time and thought about me. She didn’t forget about me, she might not hate me. Does that mean Dustin is thinking of me?
“Yes, I want it. I need it, please.” She nods and hands me a padded manila envelope. I can barely contain the beating of my heart and force myself not to run to my room and rip it open. Instead, I walk at a normal pace and remember to breathe. Once in my room, all bets are off. I rip open the package and take the letter out.
Teryn,
Hello, sweet girl. I hope this finds you healing and doing better. I want to tell you, I was upset with you, and truthfully probably still am, but more than my feelings, I want you to get better and come back to us. You left all of us devastated and confused and I look forward to the day when you can explain it to us. You don’t owe us anything but the day you are able to tell us your thoughts and feelings will be a day to celebrate because that means you have found your voice.
I cannot promise it will be that easy with Dustin. When you left, you broke him. I honestly don’t know how to help him, how to reach him anymore. If I ever ask anything of you, it will be now . . . if you could please reach out to him somehow. Let him know why you did this, or what you are trying to accomplish. He just doesn’t understand, and while we all know there are things that happened to you that you can’t or haven’t shared, he is too blinded by his own pain to see that.
We all miss you, and can’t wait to hear how you did. I don’t want you to write me back, and this is the only contact I will have with you, but I thought you could use this.
Take care, and remember you are always welcome here.
XOXO,
Brielle
Inside the package is my iPod, and I see a new playlist labeled ‘Therapy’ on it. The first song is ‘Invisible’ by Hunter Hayes. I listen to it on repeat, deciding I will conquer a new song each day and let it speak to me. Lose myself in the lyrics.
I wish I were strong enough to reach out and explain to Dustin what I am doing. I still have so many steps and so much healing to do that I can’t bring any more emotions or feelings into the mix. I know I am doing this for me, for us and I just hope one day he realizes this. When I leave here, I will leave a woman nobody will ever be able to break again.
Chapter 15
Dustin
May faded into June, and now July is fast approaching. I am still undecided on what I want to do, and seem to be filling my days sleeping, riding around on the quads, playing soccer with CJ, or heading to the lake with all my friends that just graduated, to then spend the nights buried in a bottle, and then in some nameless girl’s body, balls deep. My sisters are slowly losing patience with me. That is an understatement, but as I tell them, not their problem. I was summoned to dinner tonight, and I am looking forward to it as much as a root canal without anesthesia.
I haven’t been drinking and driving, so Mitch can’t say shit, check. No girls have walked out of my house naked, so that marks Addison, Brielle, and Cambree off their bitching streak. I spend plenty of time with CJ leaving Colby and Tyler free, check. Max is the only one I haven’t figured out, but because Cambree has nothing to bitch about then he is taken care of, too. Kayleigh just doesn’t care as long as Mitch is happy, so this family dinner shouldn’t be dreaded, but I know I am being delusional if I think my siblings won’t find something to nag about.
I can’t be here all night. I have an appointment later to start my tattoo. This wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, and I have been working on it for a few weeks. It will end up being a full sleeve, but it will be all for me and those that mean something to me. None of my family will care, we aren’t judgmental, but they will be pissed I didn’t tell them. Story of my life, they are always pissed off at me lately.
I don’t even get in the door when Cambree starts, “What did you do today?”
“Not much, went to the lake, hung out, and played some volleyball. What did you do?”
“Oh, just cleaned, laundry, and worked at the gym. You know the things responsible adults do.”
“Glad I am not a responsible adult then,” I wink at her which makes her even angrier. “Don’t you have a husband you can nag at? I don’t think I signed up for this.”
“Leave me out of it, dude. She is pissed at someone other than me for once, let me have my moment.” Max smiles next to her, then grunts when her elbow makes contact with his stomach. I just laugh and shake her attitude off. I have plenty of practice with it.
“Who was the random girl you banged last night?” Damn, she isn’t going to quit.
“If I knew, it would defeat the purpose of being random. I can describe her . . .”
She screams, “EW! Enough, I get it, you are going for the douche of the year award. Fucking whore.”
I just laugh at her. “I prefer the term ejaculate and evacuate. Whore is so stereotypical.” I know I am pushing my luck, but she is so aggravated with me at this point, I have nothing to lose.
When she storms off to the kitchen, I am sure to tattle on me like a five year old, I know my reprieve is over. Pretty soon, the army of sisters will join forces.
“I don’t know why you rile her up on purpose. Not cool, I have to go home with her,” Max tells me.
“Your choice, but maybe if you were doing your job at home she wouldn’t be so bitchy about my life choices.”
“Yeah, I don’t have any complaints. Want me to tell you what she screamed out last night, or could you hear her all the way in your trailer?” I know he is goading me, but guy talk with him is not cool, it is still my sister he is talking about.
“Touché,” I tell him, and he shakes my hand and goes off to placate his wife I am sure.
It turns into a free-for-all bash Dustin and question his life goals. I didn’t sign up for this shit. Brielle lays it on me, “Fine, you want to do nothing? Then you get your ass up every day and pick a business to work at. We all contribute one way or another. I know you think because you have mon
ey deposited in your account you don’t have to work for it, but that is only if you are in school or working for us. So which one will it be?”
“I can work as a bouncer at the bar.” Shit, that is perfect.
“Nice try, we only need a bouncer on the weekends during summer, shop again.” Buzz-kill.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, here is my idea. I talked to your old soccer coach a few weeks ago. He had seen you up at the field with CJ. He told me scouts were still asking about you, and you could have your pick of schools if you wanted to.”
“Even with taking last year off? I don’t know if I could compete with the guys anymore.”
“Don’t be stupid, D. You have a natural talent, and you are still in great shape, maybe lay off the alcohol, your abs are looking a little less than a six-pack.” I know she is kidding, I still work out daily. This may actually be the best thing for me. I had dreams at one time, then Brent happened, and I thought I gave them up. Now that Brent’s daughter happened, there isn’t much I gave a shit about. I could focus on myself, get out from under my families’ meddling, meet new nameless girls, and play soccer. My faithful love.
“Deal. I will sit down with you and coach this weekend if you can set it up. Do you think it is too late for enrollment?”
“Nope, I have your transcripts. You completed school a year early, with honors. I promise from what coach told me you will have no problem getting in a school you choose and starting in August, if this is what you want.”
I think I do. Away from the memories, away from seeing her face in every inch of the land . . . of course scrolling through pictures night after night isn’t helping that. I feel so empty after each and every girl that I immediately reach for my phone and look at her face. I am sure my bed partner doesn’t exactly enjoy that, but I need it. She is like my drug, and I am a full-blown addict. I wish I could find a twelve-step program for saying good-bye to her, but it doesn’t come in the booze, women, and partying. Maybe it will come in school.
“Yep, that is what I want.” The smiles around the room confirm I have done the right thing, for me and for them. “I have to run, I have an appointment.”
“Oh, is that what you are calling them now,” Addy throws at me.
“I usually don’t call them anything, but no I really have an actual appointment.”
“Well, I have several names for them and for you. Where are you going?” These girls are relentless.
“I have an appointment at the local clinic. I just can’t kick this STD.” Before she can respond I head out the door.
I hear her ask everyone, “Do you think he is serious?” Luckily they all know I was full of shit.
Roger is the guy doing my tattoo. He is a family friend and works at the gym with Brielle. “Hey man, I got some of this drawn up with the suggestions you sent me. Ready to see it?”
“Hell yes. Let’s get it done.”
“You sure about this? It is a big step.” I know he has to question everyone. It is permanent.
“I was born ready.” I look at his sketches, and it will be sick. There is one thing missing, and I don’t want a lot of the personal things in here noticeable. I want it more of an abstract, one your eyes roam constantly to see if you can pick out each and every detail. “This is awesome, but I want one element added we didn’t discuss, and I want it up as close to my heart as you can get, maybe the inside of my shoulder.”
“That is doable, what is it?” He grabs the sketch and goes to the area I was talking about.
“A raven. Nothing extravagant, just a solid black raven.” I have thought and thought about it, and it is my memory, to remind me never to fall in love again. I may have lost her, but a piece of her will always be with me. My raven-haired girl.
Roger sketches it quickly, and it fits perfectly. There are many elements to this sleeve, but I have something for each and every member of my family; Ballet shoes for Addison, musical notes for Brielle, pom-poms (very hidden) for Cambree, a badge and shield for both Mitch and Max, boxing gloves for Colby, I had a hard time with Tyler, so I have the C and S of the girls name intertwined, they are his life, and Kayleigh, angel wings. I’ve got a soccer ball thrown in there, and pilot’s wings with a camera for my grandfather. The only color is the flowers for my grandmother. She brought so much light to our lives. She should shine through me. There are other lines and drawings so we can weave everything together.
It is going to take a while, so we are doing it in a few sessions, but because most of it isn’t color, it is like outlining. The time will depend on how much I can take. Roger said he is good for as long as I am, so I am hoping to split it into two or three sessions. The buzz of the tattoo gun stings a bit, but in a good way. This could get addicting. Roger gets in his zone, and I just zone out, try to clear my mind, think of all the opportunities I have in front of me, and I know I need to utilize the chances I am being given, make myself and my family proud of me. Before I know it, I hear him asking if I am good, glance at the clock, and realize we have been going at it for about six hours, and it is after 2:00 in the morning. He explained he was at a stopping point and actually did the colored part of it first, so the rest is smooth sailing.
He said he will need about another four to six hours, and we set the appointment for next week. I know I won’t be able to keep it hidden from my family for that long, but I would like them to see the finished project all at once. Because of the way the piece is all together, but on different areas, he won’t have to go back over the original part. He says he can finish it tomorrow if I am willing. He warned me about pain near where I just got finished, but I think I can handle it.
I make it home in time to crash for a few hours, get up and do some shit around town, and meet him back at the shop at noon. He was right. It is tender, but nothing unbearable. Another four hours and my sleeve is finished, and it is amazing. I take in the detail and feel a connection to the ink on my arm. Every meaning, every line, is a part of me. The raven mocks me and the way I feel deeply for someone I cannot attain. It is just sitting on my shoulder waiting to fly away.
Leaving the shop, I call B and tell her I will pick up dinner and ask her to have everyone meet me at the house. I am like a kid in a candy store waiting to share my piece. I know there will be admiration from the guys and tears from the girls.
Everyone is in awe with it. They study it and I never point out “their” parts, but they find them. Camy found the raven and knew. She gently placed her hand over it, “Love you. You never know what will happen with time, D.”
She means well, but that ship has sailed. “No matter what, I am done. I can’t risk it again, she didn’t give me a real chance, and I can’t fight her past.”
“You are right, but she didn’t have the choice to give you a chance. She doesn’t know what it all means, and the purpose of this is for her to fight her own past, so she has a future, who is to say it isn’t with you?”
“I say. I am going to school, playing soccer, and moving on. I wish her the best in her future, but I am not part of it.”
“Don’t bet on that, Dustin. Fate can be a real bitch sometimes.”
“Then she must be a woman.” She just shakes her head at me but starts laughing.
Going to bed that night, I do my ritual and stare at pictures. I tell myself every night that this will be the last time, and I know I am lying to myself. I hope one day it will be the last time that will mean she is in my past, a distant memory, and that is the best place for her.
Brielle sends us all a text before she goes to sleep, sometimes with music for us, or sometimes just a good night. That is why I am surprised when my phone goes off, and it is not a group message, just me.
Sista B: Love you! I heard you tell C you were done. I call bullshit.
Of course there is an attachment, ‘What I Really Meant to Say’ by Cyndi Thomson, and damn if she doesn’t know what I am feeling. I text her back.
Dustin: Call whatever you want, but love s
ucks, and I am out. XO
Chapter 16
Teryn
Time seems to be at a standstill in here. I am still working on thought process therapy, and have even been back to extensive therapy, but cannot bring myself to go further. The therapist never chastises and lets me set the pace, but I want that break through. When I voiced my concerns in my weekly call with Melanie, she explained that things are moving at a slower pace for me. No shit, I have seen several people leave since I have been here, yet I am still here. That is one thing I have learned, to swear frequently and whenever the mood strikes. One of the guys suggested a career as a sailor and then had to explain that joke to me. This is why it is taking forever. Because I don’t know what my triggers will be other than the obvious. We are working in baby steps. I was never subjected to the “real world” like many of the patients here, so on top of learning how to cope, I have to learn to be in society.
The upside to a long day of therapy is sometimes I get to hear a new song. Brielle put over one hundred songs on the playlist, and since the estimated time for being here is six months, and I am almost a month in; I decided to listen to one new song every two nights. I am thinking at this rate I will need to repeat some. I told my therapist I didn’t want a session today. I am going to do my exercises tonight and hope I get through this road-block in my head and be able to move forward tomorrow. I find myself in my room early and Jen, one of the staff members, brings me an envelope. It is from Brielle via Melanie. She said she wouldn’t contact me, but here is a letter. I don’t know if this is good or not. I stop and inhale, repeat the words to myself, forcing myself not to jump into the negative thoughts.
Inside the envelope is a single picture and note. I know it is Dustin, I would know those arms anywhere. They held me securely when I needed it the most. What I don’t recognize is the tattoo on it. That is new. I flip it over and see one sentence, “Recognize anything?”
Parker Sibling Series Box Set Page 61
