by J. M. Miller
Ben flipped it back to look at her again. “I know I’ve seen her before,” he said close to my ear.
“Is that your house?”
“Yeah. I think she was one of the servants.”
“Dahlia,” I said, staring at her beautiful eyes. “Pretty name, pretty girl.”
“I’ve seen other servant pictures in albums in Janine’s office upstairs. Maybe that’s where I’ve seen her before. But why would Charles have this hidden in his ledger. Unless …”
I waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t so I turned my head closer to his. “Unless what?”
He breathed out, looking at the picture again. “He loved her.”
“If so, do you think he was hiding this from his wife or do you think he hid it because she was a servant?”
“I’m not sure. I guess if they were involved, it could be either, or both. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to date the servant girl and he had to marry someone else the next year. Or it could’ve been an ongoing affair. Either way, she wasn’t just some random hook up because he wouldn’t have hidden this,” he said, still staring at the picture.
“He was a family man enjoying his wife, and partying with their hot maid in secret. Times haven’t changed much, I suppose; though, now it’s common the other way as well,” I said, thinking about my mother’s servant addiction: pool boys.
“It’s always a scandal, sure, but it doesn’t sound like a huge dilemma to me.” He chuckled.
“Of course you wouldn’t think so,” I replied. “You had me scared for a minute. I thought with the way you were whining earlier that you’d turned into a girl. Thanks for clearing that up.”
“No problem,” he laughed.
The light bulb flickered with the next rumble of thunder. We both looked around the room as another lightning bolt hit close to the house, rattling the foundation. Ben faced me again just as both basement lights blinked off.
“Shit,” I said, immediately thinking of my phone, which I’d left upstairs. I used to carry it everywhere; I would’ve been lost without it. Now it never rang so there was no point. Besides, I didn’t want any more surprise ex texts. “Do you have your phone?”
“Yeah,” Ben replied from directly in front of me.
I could hear him pat the sides of his pockets, and his feet scuff the concrete as he shifted position. “I, um … I don’t have it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“No, not kidding,” he said. I could hear the amusement in his voice and I knew he was smiling.
Rain drops pounded the outside of the house relentlessly, causing a continual hum. It seemed louder now as my other senses worked hard to compensate for my blindness, honing in on sounds and smells that were more readily ignored with sight. The darkness was unyielding. There were no windows in the basement, and no light seeped down from upstairs. My eyes strained for even the slightest speck of light anyway, but there was none to be found. I didn’t want to freak out about my tiny fear of the dark, especially with Ben in front of me. I’d already fallen apart in front of him once. I couldn’t let it happen again over something stupid like a pitch-black room and bursts of thunder. It was just a storm. It was just the dark. No big deal.
“You aren’t lying to me, are you?” I asked him, closing my eyes to relieve their strain.
“Nope,” he replied in a whisper. His voice didn’t travel far to meet my ears. “Do you want to wait it out? Sometimes the lights are back on within minutes.”
“And what about the other times?” I breathed, thinking about how close he was to me. I’m alone in the dark with him. The thought sent more shivers through my body.
His boots scuffed the floor, sliding a step closer. “Do you want me to leave? I’ll understand if you do. They might not come back on and that would make cleaning impossible, unless you have candles.”
He was so close I could hear his light breaths. I wanted to reach out and grope the air until my hands found him just to ease some of the sensory tension, and to not feel so alone. It would also give me an excuse to touch him, which was an idea that I couldn’t shake after all the connections we’d made today. It felt so good to be around him. I didn’t want him to leave. Whether I touched him or not, I didn’t want him to go so soon.
I took a shaky breath. “I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for candles.”
“Hey. You aren’t scared, are you?” His voice was low, soothing.
I felt his hand touch my arm and I jumped reflexively. His calloused hand cupped my bare shoulder, moving his thumb back and forth in a consoling manner. “No, I’m not scared,” I breathed.
“You sure?” He dropped his hand, effectively disappearing again.
“Yeah, just stressed.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“No,” I whispered to the darkness, knowing his chest and arms were only a hug away. I had no idea how much I craved one until this moment. Strength was something I thought I had plenty of once. Even though I lacked courage in many situations, I’d been strong enough to deal with most, especially when Gavin was involved. I wasn’t so sure I possessed it anymore, though. Ever since we’d moved, the wall had been slipping away. But Ben had strength. I felt it months ago at the will reading. I was threatened by it then, and now I just wanted to bury my face into his chest to let it surround me. Why am I cracking around him?
“Okay,” he replied. After another loud thunder clap and a few of my deep breaths, he said, “I guess this storm is going to be one of those other times. I should get going.”
“Okay,” I managed to reply.
“Do you need help getting upstairs?”
“No, I’ll manage thanks.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, as if he could hear my weakness.
Did my voice tremble? “Yeah,” I replied more confidently.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you,” I said, listening to his footfalls travel the concrete then up the steps, leaving me in the dark. I squeezed my eyes together. They were no longer irritated by the emptiness, but I was finally consumed by it. I let the tears fall as I stood alone and weak in the dark.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I barreled out LJ’s front door, into the cool rain. I felt like such an ass for leaving her in the dark, but I had to get away from her. Things were going exactly where my mind was taking them, which was definitely not the right direction this time. I wasn’t sure what I needed to do any more. She was smart, and funny, and not the person I thought she’d be. I was actually having fun hanging out with her and that was something that hadn’t happened in a while.
I rushed across the soggy grass, kicking water everywhere and soaking my jeans and boots. Looking toward the event house, I noticed it was lit up despite the power outage. At least the generator worked. If it hadn’t, Pop would’ve called me and my phone would’ve revealed my lie to LJ in the basement. The lie wasn’t simply to spend more time with her in the dark. Of course I enjoyed that part too, but I thought if I’d offered my phone she would’ve used it to leave the basement sooner, ending the search for documents. I’d planned to distract her with conversation until the lights came back on. It all backfired when I heard a tremble of fear in her voice. I wanted to help her. I wasn’t thinking about the well, about Janine, or about the property. I was thinking about her, and how I wanted to make her feel better any way I could. That’s when I knew I couldn’t stay.
I glanced over toward the event house’s windows again. People were nice and dry inside, dancing and drinking, enjoying their memorable life event as veins of lightning marbled the sky. It made me think of Janine. I wondered if she’d felt like an outsider during her last years, watching her life through different eyes. Or if it was more like living in a pitch-black basement, unable to see the life she’d lived until brief flashes of lightening brought the memories back.
At least LJ felt better today. After my failed attempt at finding information, that was something that would help me sleep tonig
ht.
“You’re going to pick me up later, right?” I asked Dad as he changed the radio station to the local weather.
“It might rain again later today. It’s crazy how quickly the ground soaks the rain up out here,” he said, oblivious to my question.
“Dad!”
“What? Oh, yeah. I’ll be here.” He was distracted. This was the dad I knew, always distracted. Give the man a job and things were right back to normal.
“See you later,” I murmured, stepping out of the passenger door and into the crowd of students filtering to the main entrance.
I dreaded a new school week. It meant more avoidance and awkward situations. The only thing I was looking forward to was seeing Ben. Lunch was an unstructured nightmare of banter and bullshit, easily the worst part of any wallflower’s day, but it might turn into a highlight since it was the only time I saw him at school.
I hadn’t even set a foot into the building and a headache started. Great. The farther I walked, the harder it hit. I grabbed at my temples and made my way to my locker, ignoring the scowls and verbal threats from people I pushed past.
The pain continued, shooting bursts through my head like the merciless lightning strikes of yesterday’s storm. I popped some Tylenol in homeroom and it downgraded to a dull ache before I left for English Lit.
Halfway to class, high-pitched tones pierced my ears, loud enough to make my muscles tremble. Just as I was about to push my palms against my sensitive ears, a deep voice mumbled a whisper into my ears. I twirled around and stopped short, meeting only glares and angry remarks as a sea of bodies parted around me to maintain the flow of the hallway.
Unable to find the source of the voice, I turned and continued walking until another whisper came, cutting right through the high pitches. This time a girl’s voice clearly said, “Courage to ask …”
My face flushed as embarrassment and adrenaline both kicked in, readying me for a fight with whomever targeted me for a cheap laugh. I swung my arm as I spun this time, expecting to smack someone. I was angry and physically hurting, and I wanted someone else to feel it. The throw didn’t connect, and my body spun wildly with the follow-through. A few people looked at me curiously.
Another girl’s voice whispered, “I wish I were creative enough …” Again I spun and again I didn’t land the hit. No one was close enough to whisper. No one.
The English Lit room was silent before the start of class. After I took my seat, my headache began to settle, but my anger didn’t. I’d been expecting the new-kid torture to start soon enough. It was a given. What I couldn’t understand was how they managed to move out of my reach so fast.
Everything calmed down after a few classes, until I reached the cafeteria. My head began to throb again in response to all the activity. I sat in the same place as last week and pinched my eyes closed, attempting to fight the pressure building in my skull. I dug into my bag, pulled out a bottle of Tylenol, and dumped its contents: air. Great.
“I wish I had the persistence …” a girl’s voice whispered.
I jerked my aching head around to see a girl from my English Lit class sitting at the table behind me. I knew the voice was hers from her incessant brown-nosing. Lucy was her name, and she was smart, but not smart enough to keep her know-it-all attitude in check.
“I wish I had the persistence to try out for the debate team,” Lucy’s voice spoke again though her lips remained pressed tightly together as she stared down at the piece of paper in front of her. She lifted her eyes and glared at me. “What? You have a problem?”
I turned back in my chair and squeezed my eyes shut again. The pressure inside my head wasn’t letting up. I glanced over at Ben’s table. A couple of his friends were sitting there, but he was missing. I grabbed my temples and rocked my body. Something wasn’t right. I was losing it. Am I really hearing voices?
It was all too much to take. I snatched my bag from the floor and ran toward the exit. Tingles pricked every inch of my flesh as blood rushed from my head. Black-and-white speckles suddenly clouded my vision, surrounded by a ring of emptiness. The dark ring grew larger with each new step, tunneling my sight. As I passed Ben’s table, my body went limp and my eyes gave in to the darkness.
I clenched my eyes together before cracking them open. Rows of fluorescents shined so brightly above me that I had to blink a few times to adjust.
“Are you okay? LJ, right?” a guy asked, leaning over me. The blond hairs above his hazel eyes went in all directions, just like his twisted nose that had obviously been broken more than once.
“Give her some space, and quit taking videos, shitheads!” a petite girl with long brown hair bellowed from behind him, backing people away in spite of her stature.
“Yeah,” I responded to him weakly, rubbing the side of my head. I glanced around and caught a glimpse of Emily standing between two rows of lunch tables. She peered down at me between comments with her friends. Her eyes were indifferent, like she wasn’t employed by the place I’d own in half a year. I couldn’t say I was shocked by her lack of concern, though it did show me how committed she was to her reputation. If my soon-to-be employer was laid out on the ground, I think I would’ve buckled to save my job, not my rep. That didn’t make me any better of a person, though, since most decent people would offer to help thoughtlessly, like the guy and girl above me. I was pretty sure they were Ben’s friends.
“Someone’s getting the nurse now so just hang out for a second,” the guy said when I tried to get up.
“Okay, Sebastian, out of the way,” a woman’s voice broke through the crowd before her curvy body appeared. Her short haircut did not stop her from styling the blonde strands in the biggest way possible. The only things bigger in the room were her boobs, which were barely contained behind their button-down cage. I was convinced an eighties ballad would start any second and she’d dry hump the hood of a car if one was available. “How you feeling, sweetie?”
“Okay.”
The crowd dispersed, moving back to their tables after the situation turned uninteresting.
“Did she hit her head, Sebastian?” Eighties Nurse asked.
He looked at me, debating whether to speak in front of me or not.
“She’s not dead or anything so spit it out.”
“Well,” he began hesitantly, but the girl behind him cut in.
“He accidentally smacked her in the side of the head, Ms. Mitchell. She fainted in front of us and Spaz tripped over a chair when we ran around the table to help.”
“Thanks, Izzy. Don’t you take any time off from injuring yourself or others?” Ms. Mitchell asked Spaz.
He shook his head with an uneasy smile. “Sorry, LJ,” he said directly to me. “I hope you’re okay and this doesn’t get blasted on the Net.”
“I’m fine. And I’m not worried about the videos so you shouldn’t be,” I replied, sitting up.
“Do you think you can walk?” Ms. Mitchell asked me and I nodded.
Spaz and Ms. Mitchell helped me up then we walked to the nurse’s office. I took a seat on the farthest of four narrow beds. Ms. Mitchell yanked a polka-dotted curtain halfway through the room, shielding me from the hallway outside.
“Is she going to be okay?” Spaz asked from the doorway, now blocked from view.
“She’ll be fine. You two need to get to class,” Ms. Mitchell said as she moved around the curtain. She grabbed a white vest from the back of her office chair, pulled it on, then sat in front of the small desk. After a minute of typing on the keyboard, she stood and addressed me. “Let’s cover the bases. What’s your name?” she asked, flashing a pocket light in my eyes.
“Lila Janine Wayde. LJ for short.”
“Where do you live?”
“Stockton Estate. Two Twelve Stockton Drive.”
Have you eaten anything today?” Her heavily lined eyes scanned mine sincerely as she clipped the light to her vest’s pocket.
“I, uh,” I said, thinking. “I didn’t eat lunch, but I had a b
lueberry muffin for breakfast.”
“You need to remember to eat.” She placed a pressure cuff over my arm and pulled the stethoscope over her ears. After a minute of breathing exercises, she pulled the plugs out of her ears and snagged a candy bar off of her desk. “Your blood sugar is probably low. Here,” she said tossing it to me then typing on her keyboard again. “When I walked into the cafeteria, I heard someone mention an empty pill bottle. You don’t have any prescriptions registered with the school. Are you taking any illegal meds?”
“No,” I responded, after swallowing a bite of chocolate. “Just Tylenol for headaches.”
She typed a little more on the keyboard then spun around. “You can’t take anything at school unless it’s been authorized, and even then you have to come here for medicine.”
“You’re joking. I can’t carry my own Tylenol?”
“No, you can’t.” She walked to the refrigerator in the corner, removed a bottle of Gatorade, and handed it to me before she took her seat again. “I just messaged my report to the principal. You aren’t showing signs of drug use so the cops won’t be called, and, since you seem to be okay physically, there’s no need for an ambulance either. They did call your father, but there was no answer.”
“He’s at work so his cell is probably off.” Just like old times.
“Well, we can’t let you leave on your own accord without him knowing, so you’ll have to have to stay put. I think you’re fine to complete the rest of your classes, though, if you feel okay.”
“My dad’s my ride. And, aside from the headache I’d already had, I feel fine.”
She turned her chair a bit to face me. “You just moved here so I’m guessing you’re dealing with normal relocation stressors, but I know that your situation has been more difficult.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, taken off guard. Is she insinuating something about my family?
