I laugh. “Alright, you’ve got me curious. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he says and our night begins. We drive out of town and get on the highway going north with the windows rolled down and the warm breeze fluttering through my hair. It’s nice. After miles filled mostly with music and conversation, we end up a few towns over, in a city much bigger than anything I’m used to, lights sparkling and colorful. Twilight paints the bustling streets in a blue-violet tint and Eli parks in the parking lot of a busy restaurant and looks at me. “Do you like seafood?”
I slide out of the truck and rearrange my skirt. Seafood is a delicacy I’ve never really indulged in. “Do fish sticks count?” I ask with a wry smile. He laughs and loops an arm around my waist, leading me inside, where crystalline water fountains spritz water over the marble pools. The place is beautiful and ritzy, one of those restaurants that demand a reservation, but Eli’s one step ahead of the game. The waiter shoots us a smile with stars in his eyes and leads us to the back, to a table set for two. “Eli…” I start, feeling nerves balling up in my throat.
“Just enjoy it,” he murmurs while pulling out my chair. I sit down and he scoots me back in and we order our drinks while we take a glance at the glossy menu sporting meals so delicious-looking that they make my mouth water—at least until I catch sight of the price. Eli pins me with a look like don’t you dare say a word and I can’t help but smile.
The food is amazing, better than anything I’ve ever eaten before; the crab practically melts in my mouth, sweet and savory with a touch of garlic. The rice pilaf is light and fluffy and perfect, and the biscuits they bring to the table are to die for. I actually moan in satisfaction at one point and Eli almost loses it. We get sour looks from some of the patrons eating all proper and such and feeling a sudden flash of impishness, I flip them off under the table.
“This is amazing,” I tell Eli.
“This is just the tip of the iceberg,” he promises, reaching over the table to touch my hand. He gets up to pay and we walk back outside into the warm summer night. Leaving Eli’s truck in the parking lot, we walk the two blocks to a plush green park, our path lit by little solar lights on either side of us and my chest squeezes. He really though this date out and the meaning isn’t lost on me. I squeeze his hand and he looks down at me, brown eyes adoring. “It gets better,” he says even though I don’t know how that’s even possible.
It is.
Our next stop is a giant indoor aquarium, lit only by blue LEDs along the carpeted floor, the walls on either side of us just giant panes of glass filled with crystal-clear saltwater. Colorful fish swim past in schools. There’s a huge turtle and even a shark, its teeth gleaming in the aquarium lighting, cutting through the water with liquid precision and it’s just…perfect.
Besides music, water’s always been the one thing that can soothe my ravaged soul; just the sound of running water can calm my mind, so to be surrounded by thousands of tons of it with beautiful creatures swimming all around me? It really feels like I’m dreaming.
“It’s perfect,” I breathe, staring into the darkened depths, through the winding branches of rosy coral and live rock with tiny little creatures clinging to the roughened surface. A clown fish peeks out of a huge purple anemone and I smile. “Someday, when I win the lottery and am filthy stinking rich, I want my bedroom to have an aquarium that takes up the entire freaking wall.”
Eli squeezes my hand. “That can be arranged.”
Afterwards, we wind down in a little midnight café, sipping lattes while live bands and artists play up on a corner stage and I know that someday, Jake and Eli will be up there—maybe not on this very stage, but somewhere just as nice or nicer—doing their thing, performing and wowing the crowd. They’ve got what it takes to make the big time. I tell Eli this and he turns two shades of pink, fumbling for the right words to say.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” I tease him, flicking him on the nose.
He rubs his face. “I don’t know, Teag. I’m not sure if I ever want to make it big.”
“Why not? You’re good enough.”
“You sound just like Jake.”
“Maybe we’re right?” I try my best to look innocent.
Eli shakes his head, though he can’t hide the way the corners of his lips lift up. “Let’s get you home,” he says and we meander back through the park on the search for his truck. We drive home in silence, no music, no talking, just enjoying the peace, enjoying the way our hearts seem to fit together like interlocking puzzle pieces.
I’m in love with Elias St. James.
Like a gentleman, he walks me to my front door and bids me goodnight with one last kiss. “Sweet dreams, Teagan Marie,” he murmurs but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to sleep again—I’m so happy I’m damn near floating.
But all good things come to an end eventually.
~*~
My phone wakes me the next morning by vibrating itself across my dresser. I groan and put my pillow over my head, but the ringtone just keeps marching on. Seriously? It’s too freaking early. The sun’s barely peeking through the blinds and I have work in two hours. I reach over and grab the offending piece of technology and peer at the screen. I don’t know the number and finally it falls silent.
“Thank you, God,” I mumble as I turn over in bed, snuggling into the pillow to try and catch the last couples of zees before I have to wake up and start my day for good. Just as my body begins to grow heavy, sleep dragging me blissfully under, I’m jolted back awake by the same damn ringtone, the same damn number.
I sit up in bed and answer it, hoping they have the wrong number or something. My eyelids feel like they’re glued shut. “Hello?” I say, my voice muzzy from sleep as I look back down at my pillow longingly. Soon…
But the soft, reedy voice on the other end of the line makes my blood run cold, ice streaking through my veins—”Um, hi. I don’t know if you can help me. Can I talk to Meghan?” It sucker punches me in the gut, a thousand pounds of pain behind a cold steel fist. I can’t breathe, I can’t find my voice. No. No. No no no nononono... “Hello? Meghan?”
I’m wide awake now, shaking as if I’ve just been dunked in a tank of ice water, my heartbeat careening dangerously out of control. “Hello?” Her voice… God, her voice is the key that unlocks the iron bars across the prison of my mind and I feel tears flood to the surface along with all my old memories and fears and anxieties.
Tierney.
She’s my sister, that little girl who used to look up to me, used to tag along at my heels so adoringly—the little girl I doomed to a bitter reality of pain and abuse when I left that fateful night. I ran away like a dog with its tail between its legs. I ran and I left her there and I hate it, hate myself and she probably hates me too. What does she want—no. I don’t want to know.
I swallow around the thickness in my throat and manage to croak, “Sorry, you have the wrong number, I don’t know a Meghan,” and press the red end call button with trembling hands. I suck down gulp after gulp of breath, my skin crawling like bugs have burrowed beneath it, and I fling back the covers and run for the bathroom as the old emotions come crawling back into my mind.
The phone rings again. And again. And again. Each time it makes me want to scream, but I leave it to chime away on my bedside table and lock myself in the small bathroom. I crank the shower to hot, the rush of running water doing little to calm the panic soaring through me like a fire lit with gasoline and matches.
The bathroom steams up. I strip from my clothes and take the hottest shower I’ve ever taken in my life, but I’m too far gone. My mind is burning up with all these thoughts and fears, self doubt and insecurity and pain. It hurts. I wanted, so badly, to run away from that life—to become someone else—and it almost worked. I can change my name, but I’ll never be able to outrun the past.
I can’t go back. I won’t go back. Never again. He ruined my life, took my innocence, and destroyed my childhood and I refus
e to put myself back into that position.
And Tierney…
I sob then, sharp and painful as it builds into a wail. I drop to my knees in the tub, wrapping my arms around myself, and cry. Tierney was thirteen when I left them behind—she’d had thirteen years without the groping, without the guilt and the hatred and the shame. He’d never touched her because I was always there. I was his favorite. Another sob erupts from me and I scrub at my skin with my nails, then run my fingers over the barring lines of old scars lacing down my thighs, the pale ridges of leftover pain.
I’d left her to that hell, locked that little truth into the closet, never to see the light of day. I loved that girl with everything I was, tried so hard to protect her from him, and in the end I failed. How could I ever think I could just move on, how could I think I could ever be happy again? Eli’s just a band-aid over the gaping wound that is my soul. I tried…
I step out of the shower and drip water onto the tile. I yank open the bottom drawer, to where my box of razors lay gleaming under the fluorescents. I need it. My fingers itch for the smooth coldness of the blade, to feel the sharp edge slice into tender skin, making another cut, another slice. My mind is filled with thoughts of blood and pain, crimson spattering white tile—
“No!” I howl, ripping myself away so hard I’m reeling. I slam the drawer and run back into the bedroom, to my now-silent phone, lying there on the dresser. Taunting me. I wrap my blankets around my naked, wet, shivering self and punch in Dakota’s number.
One ring, then two, and a third before her sleep-rumpled voice floats onto the line. “Hey sugar, what’s shaking?” she asks and I burst into tears and tell her everything. “Whoa, slow down. Teag, hey, it’s okay. Slow down, I can’t understand a thing you’re saying.” I take in heavy breaths and slowly but surely get the story out.
“I came so close…” I whisper, remembering the gleam of the razorblade. “I wanted it again. I’ve done so good—I… I don’t know what to do. I can’t go back to that, can’t face him again. I can’t and I won’t! I’ve just found happiness for once in my goddamned life.”
“I know,” she says softly, soothingly. “You’re doing amazing. This is just a setback, but you’re stronger than this. You can beat those demons, Teag, I have faith in you. You need to have faith in yourself. Okay? I love you.”
“I love you too,” I mumble back, voice muffled by my blanket cocoon. I breathe a little easier as the minutes tick past.
“Find something to do. Write a song or paint or go to Eli’s. You shouldn’t be alone, and you definitely shouldn’t let your mind wander. Take care of yourself, okay? Promise me you will.”
“I promise.” I’m calmer now, my panic slowly subsiding. I place my head on the pillow, let it cushion my throbbing mind. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically, and I just want to go back to sleep. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Lylas.”
“Lylas…”
I lay there for a long time, focusing on my breathing, focusing on myself. I try and work up the energy to go to work, but in the end I call Valerie, tell her I’m sick, and take the day off. I dress in PJs and stay in my room, plucking out the beginnings of a new song on my acoustic, the words coming to me faster than I can write them down. A song of sadness with lyrics spawned by agony.
The phone rings, startling me, and I jump and nearly drop my guitar. My pulse rockets again and I’m half afraid to answer it, but seeing Eli’s number display across the screen calms me a bit. “Hey,” I answer, holding the phone between my ear and my shoulder so I have my hands free to continue playing.
“Hey beautiful. Was wondering if you’d like to go out for lunch.”
“I think I’m coming down with something,” I say, the lie bitter at the back of my throat, but I swallow it anyway. “I took the day off work. I’m really weak and tired and not all that hungry. I’m sorry if I just ruined our plans.” Part of me wants him to accept it and go about his day; the other part of me wants to cling to him and never let him go, beg him to come over and save me from myself.
“No worries. Want me to come over? I could bring Chinese for lunch and we could watch TV. That’s always a fun activity when you’re sick.”
I laugh. “Okay, I’d like that. Would you bring crab Rangoon? And maybe some sweet and sour?” All of a sudden I’m starving, like it hits me all at once.
“Your wish is my command,” Eli says. “I’ll swing by and pick some up. See you soon, babe.”
I climb out of bed and catch glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my door. My face is still red from crying and my hair never got brushed, but I don’t have the energy to fight with the tangles today so I tie it up and make it lay flat with the help of bobby pins. I keep my PJ pants and trade my nightgown for a loose t-shirt. I look halfway decent and that’s good enough for me.
I set my phone to silent—just in case—and stick it into my pocket and spend as little time as possible cleaning up my mess in the bathroom, retreating into the living room until Eli gets here. He arrives with a bagful of heavenly smelling take-out and we sit next to each other on the couch with our plates piled high. We spend the rest of the day watching game shows, trying to guess the words and phrases before the corny looking contestants can.
We’d be rich if we were the ones playing.
My belly full, I push my plate aside and curl up next to Eli on the couch. He rewards me with a kiss as he wraps one arm around me, holding me snug against him, and I press my face into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, the TV show forgotten as I breathe him in and try to let the weight of the day fall to the wayside.
This is just a minor setback, I tell myself, but deep down I know that’s far from the truth.
Twenty
Teagan
On Friday, we catch an evening matinee to get my mind out of its reckless wandering, another gory horror flick that has Eli groaning, but I like them. Yeah, they scare me, but there’s something about putting yourself through that terror willingly that it gives you control over your fear and I need that in my life.
Especially right now. The phone calls haven’t stopped, I’ve just been ignoring them, putting them on silent or sending them straight to voicemail. I delete them without ever listening to them. I know my sister—she was my best friend growing up—and Tierney’s always been a stubborn bitch. I know she won’t let up until she gets what she wants, but I can be stubborn too and I’ve already decided that I’m not talking to her. It’s better for both of us this way.
Eli touches my wrist to get my attention, a lopsided smile on his face. “Hey, Teagan. I have a surprise for you,” he says, almost sing-songy. He reaches into his pocket and for a moment, my heart threatens to stop because the only thing I can think is: He’s proposing to me?—but it’s only a sash made of purple silk and I heave a sigh of relief. He lifts it up. “Do you trust me?”
I swallow. “Yes,” I tell him, and he gently blindfolds me with the fabric, the knot loose enough to pull free with just a tug if I need it off. He wraps his arm around me and I’m keenly aware of his warmth, his security as he leads me back to the truck and helps me climb in. He clips my safety belt and shuts the door. A minute later, the door ajar alarm dings as he hops into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. The truck rumbles soundly beneath me.
When we park, he spends a moment banging around in the back before helping me find my feet once again and at his side, we make our way to our destination. He has me sit and I can feel the crunch of grass beneath a blanket—but it’s a little late for a picnic?—and I fold my legs Indian-style. The smell of warm spring and fresh flowers fill the air, along with the minstrel of the crickets’ song, and I wonder why it takes removing something so vital as sight to make me aware of my other senses.
I hear the soft thump of Eli no doubt plopping down in front of me, and then the blindfold’s pulled away. I blink to adjust my eyes and realize we’re in the park, the setting sun aglow behind the line of trees, turning them into dark
ened silhouettes on a crimson canvas. Solar lights around the park blink on as if they sense the coming night and in Eli’s lap is his favorite acoustic guitar.
“This one’s for you, babe,” he says around a smile and when he strums the first chord, I recognize it immediately—my song, the song he wrote for me, the song he’s been teasing me with since the day we met. A laugh bubbles up my throat and, grinning, I close my eyes and let myself get lost in the soft music, in the way his velvet voice can give any words a life of their own.
This morning, it’s the same as every other weekday
I go down to the local bakery-slash-cafe
And I stand, and I wait, in a twenty minute line just to see your face
And I know that it’s lame, but I wished you would do the same
As I pretend in my mind that you’d know my name
And one day I’ll make her mine, deliver the perfect line
And I pray that day that I don’t get tongue tied...
Oh not today, my only order is a large frappe
I think of just what to say as I slowly walk away...
I think I’ll take a baker’s dozen of your sweet kisses
Cuz when I’m seconds away I already miss it
I think I’ll take a baker’s dozen of your sweet lovin’
Cuz it fits like a glove, think I’m falling in love.
Wouldn’t make it a day without you babe...
But I just can’t find the words to steal your breath away
This week, it’s no fake–I need a birthday cake
For my distantly related second-cousin Jake
Yeah it’s no lie, I need an apple pie
For a sibling that I made up on the fly
Why is it every time I get another foot closer in line
Neverlost (Melodies and Memories) Page 10
