Designed

by Alicia Renee Kline

  “You won’t be driving this for long,” he intimated.

  As soon as his back was turned, I rolled my eyes. Then I grabbed my brother and headed out the driveway, off to anywhere but there.

  Those rides in the car became the foundation of my friendship with my older sibling. As if once we’d gotten off of our parent’s property, he was free to speak and he became someone entirely different. We’d talk about anything and everything; from my relationship with Chris to the fact that he couldn’t get much action without his own driver’s license. That was, in my humble opinion, a good thing for him to take a break from. I much preferred this reincarnation of him to the one that had graced the hallways of our high school back when he was the star of the show.

  “You love him, don’t you?” he asked one day as we were headed in yet another aimless direction.

  “Of course I do.” The words came without hesitation. Chris and I had breathed them to one another enough that it felt organic to say it out loud. Who gave a crap that I was only sixteen? I felt it in the very core of my being.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from Matthew, but I was surprised at the one I’d gotten. He looked quite sad to hear the revelation.

  “What’s wrong?” My voice upturned in some semblance of panic. “Do you know something?”

  Always, always with the fear of Chris finding someone better suited for him. Someone older, in college with him who could understand that world and who didn’t play by a high schooler’s rules. No matter how many times we were intimate with one another, the lingering doubt that our love was fleeting reared its ugly head. At times I felt as though I was merely pretending, playing a game of house and imagining what it was like to be a grown up. Mind you, Chris had never given me an indication of such; it was always my own head playing tricks on me.

  A glimpse of cockiness returned in the laugh he gave me. “Nah, Chris isn’t the type to kiss and tell. But it’s obvious that he’s head over heels for you. He has been since about age thirteen.”

  A blush crept upon my cheeks. I cursed my fair complexion for showing my hand so easily.

  “You’re lucky, you know. You found someone who loved you right away. And all I can find are people that love the idea of me.”

  I mulled over his words for a moment, thinking I caught his drift. “So you feel like a caricature of yourself?”

  “Yeah. That’s me. The rich - dare I say - good-looking jock. Everyone gets a ride, but no one wants to stay once the party’s over.”

  “People are stupid.”

  “Or they’re smart. I wouldn’t want to end up with someone like me. I’m a liability, a pretty face with no substance underneath.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “Don’t say that about yourself. Just because our father has ingrained that into your psyche doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “See? You use words like that and know what they mean. And I’m just a stupid ex-football player who can’t catch a break in the real world. Who hangs out with his sister because no one else will give him the time of day. And who relies on her taxi service to get him where he needs to go.”

  “Chris would hang out with you if he didn’t have that big test tomorrow. You know that. And the taxi thing is only temporary.”

  “Even when I get my license back, I won’t have a car.”

  I shrugged. “You can use this. It doesn’t belong to me, not really. And I’ve grown accustomed to getting the special treatment from Chris for years. He’ll drive me where I need to go. And when he can’t, you will.”

  I batted my eyelashes at him innocently.

  “You’d do that for me?” He seemed surprised.

  “You’re family.”

  It was as simple as that, really.

  Chapter Eight

  “No more Chris sightings?” Lauren asked slyly as I entered my own kitchen to the sight of her cooking dinner there.

  “No, I haven’t seen him again.”

  She made a sound that sounded akin to her clearing her throat, then exchanged a glance with her fiancé.

  “What? It’s only been a couple of days.”

  We had sort of a strange arrangement, the three of us. She and Matthew lived out of two houses - his and hers - and we also added my place into the mix as a venue for our frequent meals. It was a wonder we all ended up in the same place at the same time. We’d worked out a sort of shorthand: his, hers and mine. The meeting place rotated according to a loose schedule, confirmed by text message around lunch time. Really I was the only one who needed instructions; she and my brother operated on the same wavelength.

  So it hadn’t been a big shock to see my brother’s Camry parked in my driveway when I’d arrived home. I’d wanted to wrap up a few odds and ends when I got back to the shop and that had resulted in me not leaving right as I’d planned. Being self-employed, even if I physically left the premises, I never mentally clocked out. Often times after Lauren and Matthew had gone home or vice versa, I’d run upstairs to my home office and sketch out an idea or make a pair of curtains or a bedspread. Virtually anything that could take my mind off of the fact that once I was alone, I was alone.

  I’d gotten spoiled when Lauren had lived with me. What used to be a life of ramen noodles and salty, preservative laden frozen dinners had given way to home cooked meals. Her being back in the picture restored my better eating habits. Plus, she maneuvered around my kitchen like she knew the place better than I did. This was sort of fitting, since most of the cookware that lined my cabinets had originally belonged to her in the first place. Fact of the matter was that she was more at home using my appliances than I was.

  “A couple of days of sleepless nights and hookups with the wrong men,” she countered breezily. As I gave her an icy stare, she removed the lid from the pan on the stove and stirred the contents with a large wooden spoon I didn’t recall owning. Triumphantly, she stuck her finger in the contents and gave it a taste before replacing the lid. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You are partially wrong.”

  I pulled out the stool underneath the breakfast bar and took a seat beside Matthew. As per normal, he was keeping mum on the whole subject. Years of being stuck in the middle between his best friend and his only sister had made him stay out of most of our childishness. He was Switzerland to our warring nations, and I rather preferred it that way.

  “About which part?”

  “Hey, dork,” I said, employing my sibling’s nickname to get his attention, “are you going to let your woman badger me like this?”

  “I’m actually rather enjoying this,” he said with a smirk.

  “You’re absolutely no help. Just remember this moment when you find yourself in a time of need. Again.”

  “He also refuses to have my back when Chris and I are duking it out ourselves,” Lauren stage-whispered. “It’s rather annoying. Or endearing. Or both.”

  I imagined that pretty much anything my brother did was charming as far as Lauren was concerned. They were still in the honeymoon stage of their relationship, minus the whole getting married part. In all actuality, they’d only been dating for a little over five months, give or take. But unofficially, they’d been in love with each other much longer than that. Those two would be in the bubbly, giggly stages of infatuation for the rest of their lives. It was sickening and jealousy-inducing at the same time.

  “So, do tell. What am I wrong about?”

  “For the record, it was only one random guy this time.”

  At that piece of information, Matthew pushed back his stool and stood up. As comfortable as we were with one another, there were some things that we didn’t share. I sensed the disapproval roll off of him in waves as he walked into the living room to give us our space. As warranted as the consternation was, for him to judge me in that way was like the pot calling the kettle black.

  He’d been just like me not too long ago. Then he’d found the love of his life and changed his ways. Years ago, I’d been in his shoes now, l
ooking down my nose at him as he brought girl after girl back home with him. My period of revolving door one night stands had begun after I’d lost the only thing that mattered to me. In reality, we’d only traded roles.

  “Blake!”

  Lauren’s admonishment was more genuine. Out of all of us, she was the only one who had gone from one monogamous relationship right into another. Her entire adult life had been spent with two men. Her pretty little head couldn’t fathom picking up someone off the street and bedding him.

  “I know, I know, mother,” I smiled at her wickedly. “I was safe, I promise.”

  She sighed, shaking her head at me. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you. But there were sleepless nights?”

  I couldn’t ignore the hopeful tone that voiced the question. For whatever reason, she was invested in this whole reconciliation thing. As if it would be that easy to erase the past nine years, the secrets that I’d kept from him. As if he’d want me back if he found out what I’d done.

  But he couldn’t find out unless I told him myself. There were things that I hadn’t breathed a word of to anyone. It was hard to uncover truths that hadn’t been told. And that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.

  “Lauren,” I admitted, “my life is a series of sleepless nights. That’s nothing new.”

  “So talk to him. You’ll both feel better about it. He made an effort to reach out to you. You’re just going to shut him down like that?”

  “It’s worked to perfection before. Why mess with a good thing?”

  “Because there’s better things yet to come if you take a risk.”

  “And there’s a difference between taking a risk and walking yourself out to the firing squad. I rather prefer my chances the way they stand now.”

  “What happened between the two of you, Blake?”

  The look in her eyes was so sympathetic, so non-judgmental that I thought for a split second that maybe I should confide in her. After all, she’d barely batted an eyelash at Matthew’s felony drunk driving conviction - even when her own mother had died at the hands of someone who’d been seriously intoxicated. If there was anyone who’d listen to a candid discussion about my personal deepest, darkest secrets, it would be her.

  My lower lip trembled as I debated spilling everything right then and there. It would feel so good to let it all out, all the pain I’d kept bottled up inside for nearly ten years. But in doing so, I’d hurt my brother. There was no way she’d not tell him; I didn’t expect her to keep anything from him. And Chris would be beyond devastated. No, better just to bite my tongue and keep everything the way it was. I was comfortable enough with the status quo, the numbness that I felt on a daily basis.

  Crisis averted, I shrugged as I rebuilt my wall. Damn her if she didn’t see it going back up. “We broke up. People do it all the time. Not a big deal.”

  “You told him to ‘rot in hell’.”

  “’Rot in hell’, ‘fuck off’, it’s all the same.”

  “Except that it wasn’t. You can’t fool me.”

  I stared down at my hands, unable to meet her gaze. She returned to the stove to tend to our dinner, leaving her words hanging in the air between us.

  “I’ve never seen you angry before, Blake. Not like that. Not even when I made you upset by moving out and leaving Matthew high and dry. I deserved a ‘rot in hell’ of my own for that stunt, but you welcomed me back with open arms. Whatever he did to you had to be of epic proportions. And either he’s lying to himself or he’s completely clueless about what it is, because he wouldn’t follow you around like a puppy dog if he knew why you were so pissed off. I might not be best friends with the guy, but he’s in love with you and you are with him. Why can’t you cut the bull and just talk about it?”

  “Look.” My tone was way more defensive than I meant it to be. Lauren actually bristled at the harshness of that single syllable. “ It’s ancient history. I can’t change what happened and I don’t want to live in the past. He’s part of my past and he can stay that way. I’m fine as I am.”

  Fine. I was fine. That was a piss-poor barometer for life. Barely getting by, put together on the outside but broken into a million pieces internally. That pretty much fit the bill. Fine sucked, especially when I had a world of moonbeams and twinkling stars radiating from across the counter.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated, even as we both knew I was anything but.

  Chapter Nine

  (Past Tense)

  “This place looks like shit,” I commented bluntly.

  Matthew turned from his position in the driver’s seat of his very used Pontiac Grand Am and shot me a look of disgust. This mirrored the reaction I got from the front passenger seat where Chris sat. Me being the girl, I got crammed into the backseat of the two door car.

  “Way to burst his bubble, love,” Chris drawled, a mischievous sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes.

  “I’m just saying,” I pouted more dramatically than necessary, folding my arms across my chest in mock petulance. Chris reached back and batted my ponytail with the hand nearest me. It wasn’t difficult for his long arms to stretch across the interior of the vehicle with minimal effort.

  Chris and I had agreed to entertain Matthew’s independent streak tonight, foregoing our typical date night. My brother deserved nothing less. Over the course of his license suspension, he had gotten a job as a waiter at a local pizza place. He made decent enough money, especially on tips from teenage girls who thought that he was cute. I’d seen him in action; he turned on the charm and flirted with just about anyone who’d play along, garnering himself a stash of phone numbers in the process. To the best of my knowledge, he’d called all of them back and probably dated them at least once, too.

  With Dad reluctantly footing the bill for his education and very few expenses of his own to speak of, the bulk of his wages had been stashed away for a rainy day. The first thing he’d purchased after getting his license reinstated was the car that we were currently riding in. Dad hadn’t been generous enough to fund a new method of transportation for him, and he’d bought the rusty thing without a second thought. My offer for sharing the Civic still stood, but he’d refused to take more charity from our parents. I couldn’t say I blamed him.

  Even when I’d graduated from high school and been gifted with a brand new Mercedes, Dad hadn’t offered Matthew the Civic as a consolation prize. No, he’d sold it to Chris for pennies on the dollar, allowing my boyfriend to replace his failing pickup truck at the expense of his own son. Not that Matthew cared. I doubted he would have accepted it even if Dad had charged him full blue book value.

  So this explained why Chris and I were traveling in a far inferior vehicle to either one of our own. We’d personally tired of hauling Matthew back and forth between work and school, and he was more than happy to play the chauffeur when the three of us were together.

  I peered out the tiny window at the overgrown brush that lined both sides of the potholed driveway. I hated to be the stereotypical Mercedes driving rich girl, but I found myself turning up my nose at my surroundings. We were still practically in our own backyard, just minutes away from our parents’ house, but from where I sat it seemed like we might as well have been on the moon. The neighborhood itself was nice enough - estate sized lots concealed by heavy doses of trees - but this particular property just didn’t fit.

  “Just humor me for a minute,” Matthew urged.

  “Fine.”

  “I know that it looks rough, but it’s a steal.”

  He pulled the car to a stop in front of the house proper. The lane leading up to the place was long; from where we were parked now we couldn’t see out to the street. This was probably a good thing. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was embarrassed to be here myself and didn’t want anyone that I knew to drive by or if I didn’t want the otherwise respectable community to have a view of the disgrace that was this home.

  “How did you find out about this place?” I asked, not sure if he heard me. He
’d already opened the door and was on his way out. Patiently, I waited until Chris had gotten out of the passenger seat, then pulled the back of the seat forward so that I could extricate myself. Sometimes my former cheerleading moves helped me out, like when I needed to unfold my five foot eight frame from a tiny rear seat. Chris grabbed my wrist to assist in the process, and I made a sort of bubbly leap out onto the driveway, my gym shoe landing firmly in a puddle. My boyfriend fought a grin. “Shut up.”

  “This lady came into work and we started talking. Somehow, the subject of me wanting to get my own place came up. Turns out that she works at a bank and this is a home they foreclosed on. They’re trying to unload it.”

  “I’d be trying to unload it, too.”

  “Blake,” Chris whispered, urging me to turn down the sarcasm.

  “Sorry,” I muttered back.

  Truth be told, the home had probably been more than presentable back in its glory days. But now it stood neglected and in disrepair, and that was just on the outside. The sprawling ranch structure looked pretty sizable in square footage, though it would have fit inside our parents’ home two or three times. It featured a three car garage, which was a plus, if you could get past the fact that the door of the third bay was off of its tracks and hung crooked, half open and exposing whatever was inside to the elements. The brick exterior looked dirty, for a better lack of terminology, and my eyes instantly were drawn to places where the bricks had either crumbled or were missing. More than a couple shutters looked like they were just this side of falling off, and one was completely gone.

  “It’s got a pool,” Matthew continued, oblivious to my distaste.

  He was running high on adrenaline, trying to convince us and maybe even himself that this was his ticket out from underneath the controlling thumb of Alan Snyder. In the span of time between his arrest and the present day, their contentious relationship had grown even more strained, almost to the point of breaking. Once Matthew had gotten his freedom back via driving privileges, he’d made himself scarce at the homestead, picking up as many shifts as possible and doing God knew what else in the hours between.