Rivers

by S. L. Scott

I try to gather myself together, though I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think or feel after that encounter. Today is fucked-up, and I’m ready for it to end.

  Damn it. I don’t have my car here, and I don’t want to drag Rivers across town to pick me up. I want to go home and have a long relaxing bath to wash off the day before I head to see him. That doesn’t seem possible unless I can check in on Brian and hope he’s cooled off. I can’t relax with the discourse from today.

  We need to talk about what happened this morning anyway. There’s no way I’m going to allow him to treat me in anyway less than professional. Adding Josh Baird’s unacceptable behavior to that list, I head for the office as soon as the final bell rings.

  Judy, our school secretary, says, “Hi, Stella.”

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “Swamped, but nothing new with that. How can I help you?”

  “Is Principal Teller available?”

  She leans back in her chair and spies on him through the window next to his door. “He should be. Go on in. I know he’s always happy to see you.”

  I know what she’s hinting at, and it’s something that needs to be put to a stop. “Thanks.” Instead of going in like she said because “he’s always happy to see me” I knock to keep it professional.

  “Come in.” When I open the door, he looks up from the paperwork littering his desk. “Ms. Fellowes.”

  I can play that game too. “Principal Teller.”

  “Have a seat.” I set my bag on one chair and sit in the other facing his desk. He steeples his fingers and a bad memory of “the boss” steepling his before . . . I try to shake off the memory, not wanting to ever think of it again. “I was disappointed this morning.”

  “I understand. You had every right to be. I was disappointed that I was late as well. But you had no right to touch me in the manner you did. You hurt me. On purpose.”

  “I felt disrespected.”

  “I felt disrespected,” I counter.

  “I think you’ve forgotten your place.”

  Am I in a world gone mad today? What the hell is wrong with everyone? “My place?”

  “When you were falling apart last year, I was the one who let you keep your job. I gave you a roof over your head and helped you find a reliable car. Now you repay me by pulling this shit.”

  Shocked by his swearing, I shift and grab my bag. I’d rather call a ride share than fight with him. I stand. “I’ll be moving out soon. I thought I’d give you notice.”

  Brian stands abruptly. “You’re leaving?”

  Keeping my tone even, I say, “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but it’s time I move on.” He comes around the desk, but when he gets close, I take a step back.

  “We’re friends.”

  “I thought we were too. Yet you manhandled me and you’re out of line in the way you’re talking to me.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for this morning.”

  “I think it’s best if we keep our relationship on a strictly professional level.”

  My words seem to slap him. His head drops, and he reaches for the desk to steady himself. “I said I’m sorry.”

  “I appreciate that.” I walk to the door, but before I open it, I add, “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I’ll remember it.” I walk out and don’t look back. I don’t think he’ll fire me. There’s no cause. As for our friendship, he damaged it beyond repair. “Have a good night, Judy.”

  “You too,” she replies.

  It’s earlier than I usually leave, but I’ve had enough of this day, and I’m ready for it to end. I pull my phone from my bag and order a car. Since it’s only a few minutes away, I walk outside and down the sidewalk. I reach the edge of the parking lot ready to wait, but when I look up, it’s not a rideshare I see.

  Rivers stands in front of his SUV with a handful of wild daisies. Oh, thank God. How I need him right now. “How was your day, Ms. Fellowes?”

  It was awful, confusing, and a big mess.

  “Better now.” Much better.

  23

  Rivers

  Seven hours earlier . . .

  Tossing the trash from the breakfast tacos I just devoured, a knock drags my ass off the couch. When I answer the door, Meadow is standing there looking every bit the spitting image of her older sister. In my mind, I still see the little kid she once was, just sixteen when I was effectively shut out of their lives. Another example of life moving on when I wasn’t looking.

  Ridge honks from the curb, salutes us, and drives away.

  Asshole. There’s no way I’m not going to have a talk with him about dumping her off without so much as walking her up to the door. I still see her as my little sis even if she is old enough to hookup with guys without giving Stella or me a say in the matter. Maybe I’m still a little protective. Or more than a little when it comes to the Fellowes sisters.

  It’s amazing how all those old feelings are back like they never left. I guess they didn’t. I just didn’t have a right to say anything.

  I kick the door wide open for her. “Good morning. Did you come for the keys?”

  “Sure did,” she replies in a chipper voice, walking right past me. It’s good to see some things don’t change. She’s always had a sunny outlook on life. “Did my sister get home safely last night?”

  I pause, careful with my words. I think Stella should tell her sister. Personally, I think Meadow’s onto us already. “She was safe last night.” I toss her the keys to her car, but she stands by the door, not making a move to leave. I’m quick to realize I’ve been set up. “Something on your mind that you’d like to discuss, Meadow?”

  “My sister likes you.”

  Ah. Here we go. I’d expect nothing less from her. Rubbing the back of my neck, I look up to see her eyes analyzing me. “I like your sister.”

  “Do you still love her, Rivers? Because if you don’t, then let her be. She’s been through a lot over the years, and she deserves to be happy.”

  “Do you think she’ll be happier without me?”

  “No. That’s why I’m making sure if you’re coming back into her life, which it looks like you are, then it has to be for the right reasons.”

  “She’s the only reason I came back. I love her, Meadow.”

  Her smile is as bright as I remember in happier times. “You know, if you play your cards right, she’ll be putty in your hands.”

  Putty, like last night when I replaced her hand with mine . . . so hot. “I intend to win her heart, Mead. Any insider tips?”

  “Treat her kind. She deserves it.”

  The ways she speaks of Stella makes me wonder if she knows more about what’s happened to her than she lets on. “Are you in a hurry?”

  “I have a few minutes.”

  “Coffee? Juice?”

  “Ridge and I just got back from breakfast, so I’m good.” She sits on the couch and drops her bag on the coffee table.

  “That’s something else we need to talk about.”

  She rolls her eyes just like Stella. “I don’t have that much time.”

  “I’ll guess I’ll save that lecture for another day then,” I say, chuckling.

  “I’m not a kid anymore. I’m older than you were when you knew me.”

  I rest back and think about that. It’s true. She’s a year older than I was, but does that mean I don’t know her anymore? “I’m not your dad—”

  “Thank God.”

  Her and Stella definitely have that in common. “I’m not coming back into the picture to pick up where I left off. I was a fucking mess back then.”

  “Only at the end,” she says, fidgeting with her keys. I’m not sure if she’s nervous, bored, or uncomfortable. She’s hard to read, holding her emotions closer to her chest than she used to do. When she tilts her gaze back up at me, she asks, “Are you better now?”

  “I’m better with her.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Are you better in life?”

  “Yes.”

 
“Do you do drugs?”

  A laugh comes out, maybe even a scoff. “Who’s the parent now?”

  “We don’t have parents who give a shit about us, so we look out for each other.”

  She never used to swear. Neither did Stella. Life has a way of hitting you sideways. If swearing is the worst they’re doing, they’re winning. “I don’t do drugs. I drink. You’ve seen that. I talked to a therapist some years back for a time. Therapy’s expensive when you don’t have insurance.”

  “So you went a couple of times?”

  “I went for a few months.” I respect that she’s holding me accountable. She should. She should make any man toe the line if he wants to be in her sister’s life. “I’m sorry for what I did, for not being the man you and your sister deserved.”

  “Are you now?”

  Unwavering, I answer, “I am.”

  “How have you changed?” Perhaps the question should be how haven’t I changed? Deep down, I’m not sure I’ve changed as much as grown back to who I was. I was someone who had solid footing in the world. I was someone who had the love of a great woman—well, women when my mom was still alive. I had dreams and visions of an awesome future.

  “I know what I lost. I can see how much hurting and consequently losing Stella stopped my heart from functioning properly. I know what I had, and I want it back.”

  “My sister.” Not a question, just a statement she’s mulling over.

  “My family.”

  Her eyes return to mine, and some of the embattled territory this conversation has detoured into lifts from her expression, and she smiles. “I missed you. You were my brother. You were my family.”

  “I missed you, Mead. My brothers still talk about you and Stella as if you’re Crows. You were to us back then.”

  Her eyebrow quirks. “Maybe Stella will be one day.”

  “It’s a thought I’ve had often.”

  “Rivers, let me ask you something.” She leans forward, her tone turning from fun to serious. “She knows where I stand when it comes to you. I’m a big believer in giving second chances and believing people can change. From what I’ve seen of you over the past couple of days and the time we’ve spent together, I think you have. I believe you when you say you recognize what you had and what you lost. But does Stella? Have you told her what you’re telling me? Have you apologized to her? At the end of the day, how I feel about you, no matter how I think you’ve changed, I’m team Stella.”

  “I’ve apologized. I told her I didn’t cheat.”

  “Despite her toughened exterior, she’s soft-hearted. She wants to see the good in everyone, but she’s seen a lot of bad. I owe her more than the loyalty of a sister. I owe her more than I can repay her.”

  “You’re repaying her by finishing school and keeping your life on track. She worries about you more than she ever worries about herself.”

  “I know. I don’t think she’ll ever change in that regard. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I could really use an ear and an opinion.” She stands and walks to the front window, opening the blinds and letting the sunshine in. “Something happened, a change about six months ago. I don’t know what.” Turning back to me, she rests against the windowsill. “She won’t tell me, says there’s nothing to tell.”

  My stomach tightens along with my fists thinking about her being used to pay off a debt, raped . . . my star, my whole fucking life . . . I try to keep the anger, the pain, the sickness I feel inside, hidden from Meadow. She doesn’t know her sister carries the burden of making a choice, as if she really had one. She didn’t.

  Clamping my mouth shut, I can’t say anything. I already have my own plans to find these fuckers, and there’s no way I’m involving Meadow. Her bravado is admirable, but it can get her in trouble that she might not recover from.

  I stand, unable to hide my growing anger. Walking into the kitchen, I start the coffeepot as a distraction. “You should talk to her. Maybe she’ll open up.”

  Silence fills the space between us and the house is too small to hide the truth. She says, “You know, don’t you?”

  Sticking the mug under the spout, I shove a K-Cup into the holster and start the machine, keeping my back firmly to her, blocking her from reading the feelings I know are written all over my face. “You need to talk to your sister.”

  She’s quick and standing next to me before I have time to pretend I’m tired and disappear down the hall to hide in the bedroom until she leaves. Poking my arm, she says, “I’m talking to you.”

  I look to my side and straight into a darker shade of Stella’s green eyes. “Mead, I came back because I want Stella. I want you both in our lives again.” Though these “loan sharks” have solidified a reason beyond my star to be back here. “We’ve talked about a lot of things, and I’m not sure what she’s shared with you. If she hasn’t shared something with you, I’m sure she has her reasons. I leave in two days for LA, and more than anything, I want things fixed with your sister. Okay?”

  Leaning against the sink, she stares across the living room. “Yeah, I get that, Rivers, but she pretends there’s nothing wrong, and for once, I want to be able to take care of her.” She sighs her frustration and pushes off the counter. “I need to go. I have class and then a late shift at work.”

  I follow her through the house and walk her out. Out on the porch, she stops and then runs into my arms, wrapping hers around my body so tight that she doesn’t need words. I hold her, and say, “I missed you, too.”

  She nods her head against my chest, and I know from the lack of words that she’s feeling a lot. I get it. I do too when it comes to these two women. I love them each in different ways, but both are my family. With her head down, she takes a step back and pretends to get something out of her eye. “Stupid allergies.”

  “Hey, Meadow?” When she looks back up at me, her eyes are glassy and her nose a little pink. I say, “I trust Ridge, but if he fucks with you or hurts you, all bets are off.”

  That brings her sunny smile back. “Good.” Poking me once more, this time in the chest, she says, “Same goes for you and my sister.”

  “I’d expect no less.”

  She gallops down the stairs and races to her car. “Gotta run. I’m late.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  Tilting her head to the side, she stands at the curb with her door open. “I always do, and if I don’t, Stella does.”

  “I think Tulsa resembles that remark.”

  “How is that wild child hot brother of yours?”

  “Married.”

  Her face scrunches like she sucked a lemon. “So I heard.”

  “Hey, what about Ridge?”

  Wiggling her fingers in the air, she laughs. “I don’t see a ring on my finger.”

  “You’re bad for my blood pressure.”

  “At least you’re alive again.” She gets in and shuts the door before I can reply.

  The truth of the matter is I don’t have a comeback to that. She’s right. Stella lived through the worst of me. She now deserves the best.

  I go inside and start my planning.

  The flowers are bundled in glowing green paper. I watch as the florist starts tying the string around and telling me how much she loves my music. She picked out the flowers, insisting I had to get them. “Any lady would be lucky to receive these . . . best in the store . . . spare no expense when it comes to love . . .”

  “Wait.” The woman with flowers in her pink and silver hair looks up with two loops in her hands. I say, “They’re very pretty flowers, but they’re not the right ones.”

  Unwinding the bundle without missing a beat, she says, “We’ll find the right ones then. I have lilacs in the back. Let me go grab those real quick.”

  “No, it’s okay. I shouldn’t be here.” I pull my wallet out and give her a handful of twenties not sure how much those fancy flowers cost. “Thank you for the assistance and I’m sorry for the trouble.”

  I turn to leave, and when I push open
the door and the bell chimes, she holds up the money, and says, “But you didn’t buy anything.”

  “It’s fine. Keep it.” I walk out into the sun, pull my shades from my shirt, and cover my eyes. Stella never needed fancy. She just needed me like I needed her.

  I know what to do and where to go, so I get in my SUV and drive out Highway 290 until I find the perfect field. I pull over to the side of the road and carefully climb over the barbed wire fence. The beauty of Texas is like Stella. It never ceases to amaze me.

  But since I’m trespassing on somebody’s property, I start picking the prettiest daisies I can find, ignoring the cows grazing peacefully twenty yards away. Daisies were my mom’s favorite flower. I used to pick them on our walks. She would kneel and have me put them in her hair.

  I smile from the memory. With three boys who loved their mama, she would be covered in flowers by the time we got home. As we got bigger, she would leave little vases around the house. While we were outside shooting BB guns or playing hoops, we’d pick a handful on our way home and plunk them in there.

  Standing in the middle of a field of wildflowers, I feel sick. When did we stop picking flowers for her? When did she stop putting vases out?

  Why was she taken from us?

  From me?

  The pain is crippling. My heart hurts as much today as it did the day I lost her. I look up into the fall blue sky, only finding clouds floating by as life carries on without her. It doesn’t. My life doesn’t. Jet’s nor Tulsa’s. Stella and Meadow’s life was touched, irrevocably touched by the woman who loved us so much that it doesn’t seem blue skies should exist without her here to see them.

  She was buried under endless blue with not a cloud in the sky and a cool breeze. Novembers in Texas are supposed to be overcast and dreary, the weather turning from fall to winter.

  Not that day.

  It’s as if heaven rolled out the perfect blue to whisk her away. I couldn’t understand how there could still be happiness or laughter heard in the world when the woman who made our days incredible was no longer with us. I miss her so much. Eight years later and I still miss her so fucking much. Tell me you love me, Mom. Just one more time so I can hear your voice. Please. Holding the flowers in the air while tears fall down my face, I beg, “I’ll be the man you always said I’d be, Mom. For you. For Stella. But can I just hear your voice again? Please?”