The Way Back

by Melissa Toppen

  I listen to his footsteps grow lighter in the distance until eventually they disappear altogether. I hate him for making me weak, for making me want something I shouldn't want. But most importantly, I hate him for saying he wants me, when that obviously isn’t the case. Truth be told, I don't think he has a single interest in me. I think he was just fucking with me because he likes my reaction to him. Well, no more. If he's going to treat me like I’m the bane of his existence then the least I can do is return the favor.

  WHEN I FINALLY RETURN to the house, Zayne is nowhere to be found. Neither is anyone else for that matter. Figuring they all must have gone out on the boat with Mom and Rob, I decide to try to get a little sleep.

  After an hour of tossing and turning, I give up on my much needed nap. Feeling restless, I wander through the house, reminiscing on all the memories that being here brings to the surface. Me and my brothers as kids. My mom and dad, how happy they always were. I can still hear my dad's deep, baritone voice ringing through the room. The way he would say my name. The way he would always yell at Ian for taunting me or playing jokes on me.

  As I enter the first floor study, I catch sight of my dad's guitar propped up on a stand in the far corner of the room. I immediately walk over and retrieve it, running my fingers along the worn wood. Plopping down on the brown leather sofa that sits along the right hand wall, I prop the guitar in my lap and strum a couple of chords.

  My dad kept this guitar here for when we visited. He bought it second hand at a little shop in town. He didn't like to travel with his Martin guitar, as it was custom and rather expensive. He was always afraid something would happen to it. I guess that's why I couldn't bear to take it to college with me and as such, have not played in quite some time.

  I remember how he would bring this one down to the fire with us at night and we would sit around and listen to him play and sing. He was such a talented man and the memories flooding through me brings my welling tears to the surface. I fight them back and try to remember everything he taught me.

  I run my fingers across the strings, tuning a couple before repeating the process. I first showed interest in the guitar when I was only six or seven. I was horrible at it but my dad showed absolute patience with me. He took the time to teach me how to play properly and while I still hadn't completely mastered it when he died, I continued to play. Eventually, I was even good enough to read music and write some of my own material.

  Slowly I strum again, finding the intro to the first song I’d learned to convert from piano to guitar. “Colorblind” by The Counting Crows. I softly hum out the melody as I feel out the chords.

  I'm rusty but it comes back to me pretty quickly and before long, I’m playing smoothly and singing. The words flow through me and like with most other songs that I've learned to play, I connect to the meaning behind it. My voice wavers a little with the emotion running through me but I push through it, loving the release that it gives me. I strum the final chords to the song, then lay my hand across the now still strings. It feels so good to play again but there are a lot of memories that come along with it. Playing my dad's Martin was what helped me through his death. I felt like a part of him lived through me whenever I would lock myself in my room and play for hours on end. And then after Kyle, well let's just say music is a very large reason why I’m still here. For a year after he died, I was nothing more than a zombie. I would go through the motions of my everyday life but inside I felt hollow. Eventually, I tried to end the pain myself, at one point going as far as taking an entire bottle of painkillers my mom had been prescribed for her chronic headaches.

  She’d found me in time and after three days of mandatory psychiatric evaluation, I was released to my mother’s care. She kept me on a tight leash after that and had me in and out of different therapists’ offices for over a year until I finally got so sick of going, I convinced my mom I didn't need therapy anymore. Once she agreed, I quickly learned to put on a brave face. To the world, I was no longer the heartbroken girl barely hanging on. No, to them I was the same girl I was before the accident. Only I wasn't. That Grace died the same day Kyle did.

  Pretending became part of my armor. My way of keeping people at arm’s length. Even Emma, who has been my best friend since second grade, accepted my newfound happiness without batting an eye. I think everyone wanted me to be better so badly that when I said I was, they embraced it rather than questioned it.

  No one talks about what happened anymore. Sometimes I have to look at pictures of Kyle just to confirm that he actually was real and not some figment of my imagination. My life went on normally after that and only Alec has ever questioned whether or not I was truly okay. While he would never say it, I think part of him senses the pain that I keep burrowed right below the surface. I think a part of him is waiting for me to break.

  “I didn't know you played.” Zayne's deep voice cuts into my thoughts and I jump slightly, catching sight of him leaning against the doorway of the study. Embarrassment seeps through me. For whatever reason, I’m completely mortified that he was standing there listening. I try to brush the feeling away and play it cool.

  “I didn't know anyone was here,” I say casually, standing and returning my dad's guitar to its stand.

  “Alec and Emma aren’t back yet. Ian's with your mom.” He says on a shrug. “You have an incredible voice. Where did you learn to play?”

  “My dad.” I turn to face him. My breath hitches at the intensity of his stare but in true Grace fashion, I don't let him see it.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn't. I’m finished now anyway,” I say, not looking at him as I try to squeeze past him in the doorway.

  He reaches out and grabs my forearm before I can make a full escape. The contact sends a shiver through my entire body.

  “Grace.” His voice is soft.

  “Don't,” I say, meeting his eyes.

  “I just want to say I'm sorry. You know, for earlier. That was a real dick move and I shouldn't have said those things to you.”

  So did he not mean it then?

  Was he really just screwing with me?

  The thought hurts a hell of a lot more than it should, considering I already knew this to be the case.

  I pull my arm from his grip and continue out of the room without responding. Honestly, I'm not really sure what to say. He follows me into the kitchen and waits until I have a bottle of water in my hand before he continues.

  “Look, you're my best friend's little sister. The last thing I want is some kind of bad blood between us. We got off on the wrong foot and for that I'm sorry. Can we start over?” He leans against the island, his blue eyes locked on mine.

  “I don't think there's a point, is there? You said it yourself, I'm your best friend's little sister. That doesn't mean we have to be friends. But if you're that worried about it, no hard feelings.” I shrug, swiftly turning and walking away.

  My hands are shaking by the time I reach my bedroom. While I didn't mean a single word that I said to him, I need him to believe that I did. I can pretend that he doesn't bother me. I can pretend like he doesn't even exist. Pretending, after all, is my specialty.

  EMMA FINALLY RETURNS from her trip with Alec a short while later, and while she swears they just went shopping, I find it difficult to believe that it took them four hours to pick up a few groceries. But I decide not to push the issue. I have to believe that Emma would confide in me if something were going on with them. She has a hard time not telling me what she had for breakfast, let alone if she hooked up with a guy.

  After a late dinner, I run upstairs to change into my jeans and a hooded sweatshirt before heading toward the dock with Em. By the time we get there, Rob already has the fire at least four feet high and is in serious danger of catching some of the nearby trees on fire.

  I shake my head at him and he gives me a wide smile. “I think I got a little carried away with the firewood.” He laughs, taking in my reaction.

  �
�You think?” I plop on one of the foldout chairs that my mom brought down, Emma taking the one next to me.

  Within minutes, the four of us are roasting marshmallows and Emma is telling my mom all about her first audition on Broadway. Again, she incorporates her theatrics into everything she does and she tells it so elaborately, my mom and Rob are both hanging onto her every word.

  Ian soon joins the group and the conversation continues to spiral from there. At some point, Emma decides to tutor Ian on the basics of acting and the two of them end up running through some lines from the musical Em is set to audition for in two weeks. Ian, of course, has never seen or heard of the musical which makes it that much funnier. Instead of saying the lines that Emma directs him to say, he spins them off in a very Ian-like way and within minutes has all of us rolling on the ground laughing.

  “What the hell, Ian?” Alec seems to appear out of nowhere.

  “She roped me into it.” He points at Emma, who plays innocent.

  I don't see Zayne at first but then my relief quickly turns to something else entirely when I catch sight of him a few feet behind Alec. He's dressed casually in jeans and a black hoodie, his 'just fucked' hair covered with a backward black baseball cap. I didn't know it was possible for him to look any sexier but yet again, he proves me wrong.

  A shiver runs through me and I know with complete certainty that it has very little to do with the temperature. While the weather during the day is warm, the nights still have a bit of chill in the air, especially when the breeze comes in off the water.

  Alec and Zayne join into the conversation now flowing around the fire. I stay quiet for the most part and observe. People watching is my favorite past time. I love watching the way people interact with one another. Their facial expressions. Their body language. The whole thing is very interesting to me. My eyes flicker to Zayne more than once and I can't help but notice how casual he seems, like he doesn't have a care in the world.

  I vaguely register that someone is saying my name and when I look up, everyone is staring at me. “What?” I ask, clearly confused. Emma and Ian start laughing, and Alec's voice pulls my attention to him.

  “I was just asking if you had any prospective jobs for when you get to New York,” he repeats, not the least bit agitated that I didn't hear him the first time.

  “Oh. Well, um. I'm not really sure.” I knot my hands in my lap, not wanting to tell them that I already have a clear cut vision of what I’m going to do when I get there.

  “That may be something you want to figure out, baby girl. New York will chew up and spit out a sweet girl like you. It's best to not leave yourself without a well-thought out plan.” My big brother always playing the fatherly role.

  “I have a plan,” I admit, suddenly feeling overly self-conscious with all eyes on me. It's not everyone's eyes that bother me, but more like one set of piercing blue eyes that I can feel burning holes into the side of my face.

  “Well, then what is it?” he asks, cocking his head to one side. I have yet to tell anyone that during the four years I was away at college, I managed to finish my first novel and plan to pitch it to some agencies around the city. It's not like it's a huge deal, but given the content of the book, I'm not ready to share that information yet. Writing about Kyle is one thing. Having that conversation in present company is quite another.

  “You'll find out,” I simply say, returning his smile. He lets out a light laugh, then turns his attention to Emma who has her plan mapped out from start to finish and doesn't mind retelling the story to Alec and Zayne that she’d told to the others earlier.

  After another hour of discussing nothing of any real importance, Mom and Rob decide to turn in for the night. The moment they disappear at the top of the stairs, Ian lets out a loud sigh. “Thank god. I thought they'd never leave.” He smiles wickedly.

  “Oh no, I know that look. What are you up to, Ian Morgan?” I turn on him, curious and honestly a little scared.

  He smiles wider and stands, making his way to the edge of the woods. He reaches around a nearby tree and retrieves something, but I can't tell what it is until he reclaims his seat, waving a bottle of whiskey in the air.

  “The game is 'I never'. Everyone know the rules?”

  “Seriously, Ian, aren't we a bit old for that?” Alec questions, looking at Ian like he's grown two heads.

  “Oh pull the stick out of your ass, big brother. You used to love this game.” Ian twists the cap off the whiskey and throws it at Alec.

  “Yeah, when I was seventeen.” He grins.

  “Oh shut the fuck up and let's play. Besides, playing against these two...” He gestures between me and Emma. “We'll more likely end up carrying them to bed than catching a buzz ourselves.”

  “Hey!” Emma exclaims in protest. “You know what they say about assumptions. I’m not a lightweight.” She leans over and grabs the bottle of whiskey out of Ian's hand.

  She takes five plastic cups from a bag next to the cooler and lines them across the top, pouring each one about a quarter of the way full before handing them out. I meet Zayne's eyes for a fraction of a second and quickly turn away, suddenly dreading not leaving when my mom and Rob did.

  This is going to be so very bad.

  “Alright, Gracie, you're first.” Ian turns to me. “Just say something you have never done and anyone here who has done it has to take a drink. The point is to get them all drunk and not end up drunk yourself.”

  “Sounds easy enough,” I mumble to myself. “Okay, fine. I've never been out of the country,” I say, not able to come up with anything else on such short notice. I had expected others to go before me.

  “Well hell.” Emma chuckles and lifts her glass to her lips, taking a large gulp of whiskey. She resurfaces from the cup coughing and sputtering and immediately takes a long gulp of water. “Paris,” she announces.

  Zayne and Alec lift their glasses and clink them together. “Ah, London. Best time of my life.” Alec smiles before both boys proceed to drink.

  “Australia, baby!” Ian exclaims before taking a drink from his cup as well. Well shit, apparently I’m the only one who has never been out of the country.

  Turns out I might actually be good at this game.

  “Okay Em, your turn.” I look to my best friend. She proceeds to tap her finger against her chin like she's thinking really hard.

  “Okay, I've never been on a motorcycle,” she says, laughing when Ian is the only one who holds up his cup and takes a drink.

  The game goes on like this for quite some time. Everyone saying things they have never done, the ones who have done it taking a drink. We have made it around the circle six times and not once have I had to drink. I’m realizing quickly that I have done very little with my life.

  Just when I think that I’m about to walk away without having to take one single drink, Zayne turns his eyes on me. “I've never played the guitar.”

  All eyes turn to me and that's when I realize I'm the only one who has. “You suck.” I stick my tongue out at Zayne before raising my glass and taking a drink. The whiskey is disgusting and burns the whole way down. For a moment, I'm afraid it's going to come back up, but then Emma saves the day by handing me a water to chase it down with.

  “Your turn, Em,” Alec says, turning his attention to her.

  “Okay, let’s see. I've never... been cliff diving,” she announces proudly, knowing that I will have to drink, before the full magnitude of her statement sinks in. “Oh shit, Grace, I'm sorry... I just...” I wave my hand through the air, cutting her off.

  “So I'm the only one then?” I glance around the circle as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. I pretend like her words mean nothing but that doesn't stop the ache in my heart from intensifying a hundred fold at the thought of the one and only time I have gone cliff diving.

  “I'm there with you, baby girl.” Ian leans over to tap his cup to mine. I give him a nod then pour more of the fiery liquid down my throat. The second drink is no better than the
first, but I manage to get through it without losing the contents of my stomach.

  After several rounds back to back where I end up drinking, I start to notice a pattern. They are picking the most obvious things that they know I have done. Majored in English, went to Miami University, write music. You name it, they said it. By my seventh drink, it dawns on me that they are ganging up on me on purpose.

  Realizing their game, I call their shit. “You guys suck. You are purposely making me drink,” I slur out, for the first time realizing just how much the whiskey is affecting me.

  “Your turn, Gracie,” Emma sings, clearly buzzed as she has had to drink almost every turn as well.

  “Okay, you wanna play that way.” I pin my eyes on Zayne. “I've never had sex with more than one person,” I slur. Embarrassment lights up my cheeks at the shocked look on his face. Shit, why did I just say that?

  Damn whiskey.

  Emma doesn't react, having already known this intimate detail of my life. My brothers both start laughing, but Zayne doesn't seem to find it funny in the slightest. Instead, he sits there staring at me like I've grown ten heads. I can feel the tension bubbling off of him and my stomach twists in the worst sort of way.

  Is it that uncommon for someone my age to have only slept with one person? I don’t think so but the way he’s looking at me makes me feel strange.

  No one else seems to notice Zayne's reaction, which fades quickly when everyone once again raises their glasses and takes a drink. Zayne's eyes still have not left mine when Alec takes his next turn.