Her First, His Last

by J. M. Worthington

  I packed up the last of my belongings and placed my duffle bag in the car’s trunk. The sound of music in the distance caught my attention. I didn’t know what I had done wrong. It was my first kiss, but I doubt it was that bad. It wasn’t bad for me at all. Whatever it was, Myles had gone totally off the wheels. At least, he still had his music. All I had was a tin of his favorite cookies. I chucked the container of cookies on top of my bags and slammed the trunk closed.

  “He’ll miss you too,” Granny said as she stepped out of the trailer.

  “Who?” I asked like I didn’t understand who she was referring to.

  “Myles. Who do you think?” She rummaged through her purse as she checked to make sure she had everything for the trip. “And Sawyer, too.”

  Blinking away the unshed tears, I crossed my arms. “Maybe, but I’ll miss you and Pawpaw the most.” I should have just fessed up to my feelings, but instead, I chose to play ignorant.

  “We will miss you too.” She stood there studying me as I acted cluelessly. “Just tell your mom you want to live with us.” Granny hauled her purse over her shoulder. “Never mind, she already hates us enough. Just remember what is meant to be, will be.”

  Granny held out her arms, and I wrapped myself around her, inhaling her scent one last time.

  I loved everything about Granny's, but mainly, the unconditional love.

  Chapter 3

  I s this what hell feels like? A slow dip into a boiling cauldron, I asked myself.

  Things were terrible three years ago, but ever since I came home after spending the summer with my grandparents, things had become unbearable. Home? As if I had ever known the true meaning of home.

  At fifteen, I had never had a mom who cared about creating a home for me. I had always had a roof over my head. Well, once for three nights, that roof was connected to a 1976 Volkswagen Beetle.

  But it was still a roof.

  Mom even found a way to get evicted from section 8 housing. After that, Mom and I found ourselves living in a dilapidated apartment in the Bluffs of Atlanta. A neighborhood so bad even the cops locked their doors before driving through.

  I switched the lights on click, click, nothing.

  “Please tell me you didn’t forget to pay the electric bill again?”

  Despite shedding down to our underwear, the heat would only become more depressing, a side effect of not paying the electric bill. It was not so bad when it happened in the winter. A few more layers of clothing insulated the body. But when it was turned off in late May? A person could only get so naked.

  “Mom? That church sent you the money last week.” I crept across the hardwood floor. As I started down the hall to the bathroom, the smell became more apparent —raw sewage mixed with fruit cake. “What did you do? Unload the contents of the freezer in your bed.”

  I tripped and fell onto something cold and hard—an unforgiven form.

  Why did I have to open my eyes?

  Why couldn’t I be anywhere else?

  Why was my mom blue?

  Mom’s eyes were frozen open, her pupils dilated, her chest ceased to move. Terror swirled in the air and tasted like metallic electricity on my tongue. Piercing pain pressed down on my chest. I never knew that type of pain existed; it was much worse than any physical pain I could fathom.

  The scream I produced, the vice-grip constricting of my heart, the burning rage flowing through my veins was insurmountable. I didn’t remember moving, running through the yard, pounding on my neighbor’s door, him looking up the ambulance’s phone number in the yellow pages. Nothing registered until I heard the words, “Police, can we help you?”

  I uttered back, “It’s my mom. She’s dead.”

  My vision blurred, then my head smacked against the hard, cold ground.

  I came to with a stranger standing over me. I could only make out her blurred image through my bloodshot eyes.

  “I’m Helen. Do you feel okay? You took a nasty fall,” she said as she slowly pumped up the blood pressure cuff on my arm.

  I scratched my fingers along the base of my forehead.

  How did I feel?

  Alive?

  Shook to the core?

  “I’m okay.” I nodded as the lady helped me to stand. Red, blue, even clear lights echoed throughout the block.

  “She’s dead?” I asked.

  “I have to take you to get checked out. Do you wish to pack anything? Some clothes? Any mementos?” She folded her lips together, pretending to remain calm.

  The ringing in my head made it too painful to understand any of it, but I followed her anyway. I weaved through the crowds of people already gathered in the street like a knife that cut cleanly through melted butter. My mere presence signified the misfortune of another. Four hundred thousand children a year found their home in the foster system. Make that four hundred thousand and one as I now carried that proud honor. An honor that caused people to pray for me regardless of their religious beliefs. The child to be pitied. I had become the neighborhood charity case.

  My conscience refused to look at the body bag lying in my apartment’s living room—the bag that held my mother’s body.

  I quickly gathered what I had together, which wasn’t much, then I glanced around my room.

  The narrow room was just wide enough for a sleeping bag and a fifty-year-old mattress that came with the unit.

  Goodbye to the only life I have ever known.

  Helen guided me over to an ambulance. I loaded my belongings into the back and climbed up to take a seat on the gurney. The compassion in Helen’s eyes informed me I was alone with no one. I vowed to myself never to let my own children suffer the same fate.

  I hugged my duffel bag tighter. I had no clue where she was taking me, only we were headed north. “Where am I going?”

  “We’re taking you to the local hospital to get checked out right now. Tomorrow, child services will take over.”

  Child services? I refused to break down. It wouldn’t matter if I did. Emotions were pointless.

  “Do you have any family around?”

  “I have a Granny. That’s it.” I turned my head toward her for answers, but she didn’t look my way.

  “How can I call her?”

  I breathed in through my nose and whispered, “I don’t know. I haven’t seen Granny in three years. She and mom didn’t get along.”

  “Does she live close by?”

  “No, she’s in Tennessee.” My stomach hollowed, scared she wouldn’t want me anymore.

  Helen smiled, then nodded her head and said, “What’s her name?”

  “Abigail Priddy.” I watched as a big truck came around a sharp curve. Big trucks scared me as if they were what killed me in a previous life.

  “We’ll locate her, but that doesn’t help us tonight.”

  My heart hiccupped in my chest. Nothing would help. My mother was dead, and I had no one even to care.

  Helen shifted and gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry. I really am. This is my job, but no matter how many times I have to do this, it doesn’t get easier. I promise to make sure you’re okay.”

  Her words made my blood run cold. How can she say that? Nothing would ever be okay because crack was more important than my mother’s life.

  After two long days in the hospital, child services informed me they had found my grandmother, and though saddened by the death of her daughter, she was more than willing to take me in.

  Willing? Or Obligated?

  Granny was due to pick me up around lunch. I learned my Pawpaw had passed away not long after I had spent the summer there. The lady from child services told me that Granny was excited about me coming to live with her. How can that be true? That hole in my chest ripped farther down into my abdomen.

  The drive to my Granny’s home was unfamiliar and frightening. Granny’s eyes were swollen from days of tears. She had cried because her daughter had passed away, and I was the granddaughter who allowed it to happen.

  “I’m sor
ry, Granny. I didn’t know how to help her.”

  “Your mom was sick. I wish I realized how sick so that I could have taken you away sooner.”

  “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “You’re not a burden. You’re my granddaughter. I love you.”

  The trip was uncomfortably silent; even the radio didn’t work.

  When we pulled into her driveway, I sighed and looked out over the backyard, wondering if Myles was still around. I instantly felt like the world’s worst human. I was thinking about a boy, while Granny had the added stress of caring for me.

  The trailer hadn’t changed at all. It was still a time capsule of a 1970’s comedy show. A rust-colored velvet couch, a chunky cabinet TV, and a bowl of hard candy displayed on a fake wood laminated coffee table had never felt more like home.

  I followed Granny’s lead and took my shoes off at the door.

  “Are you hungry? I made you some chicken salad before I picked you up,” she said, then hugged me as I drop the duffle bag, holding all my earthly belongings.

  I sucked in a breath through my teeth. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been hugged. A lump bubbled up in my throat, and the tears started rolling. Granny patted me on the back.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re here now. I’ll never let you go through something like this again.”

  I nodded and stepped out of her grasp. She meant well, but I knew she couldn’t keep the past from ruining my future.

  “You said you made some food?” I asked and faked a passable smile.

  I followed her into the kitchen and sat at the small bar.

  “The state has had your mom cremated. Do you want me to have them send you the ashes?” she asked and handed me a glass of orange juice.

  I swirled the glass around, pretending to pick at a piece of pulp—all to distract myself from the pain. The pain I thought could never be topped.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I didn’t want them, but I remembered the mom who used to read to me and fix my hair. I couldn’t let some government bureaucrat tossed them.

  Granny took a drink from her mug, leaving a bright red lipstick ring. “How about I keep them until you decide what you want to do with them?”

  “Thanks,” I replied, unable to even smile.

  Granny leaned forward to press a soft kiss on my cheek. She smelled like Ben-gay and Oil of Olay—it was the most comforting scent in the world.

  Granny let a sob escape, but I didn’t knowledge it. If I did, the dam I had constructed would break, and the tears would never stop.

  “Do you think she has found peace?” I asked.

  “Yeah”—Granny nodded her head—“she couldn’t fight any longer. She had lost her will to live, but she knew who loved her despite all her sins.” Tears had begun falling from my eyes down to my cheeks. Granny cupped her hand around my face. “Her soul has finally found the happiness she never had on earth.”

  “Can I lay down for a little while?”

  “Of course. I’m sure you can still find your room.”

  My old room was exactly the way I left it. Granny hadn’t changed a thing. I collapsed on the bed, never realizing how much I was bawling until I choked on my own breath.

  Chapter 4

  T he soft beat of a melody woke me from a fitful sleep. It had been three years since I had seen him. Surely it wasn’t Myles? Would he still be living in a rundown trailer park? I clambered out of bed and ran a brush through my hair, then pinched my cheeks for some color. Stepping out into the backyard, I wandered over to the old shed where Myles had spent all his time playing the last summer I was down.

  My heart leaped when I found Myles lounging in the grass, with a guitar slung around his shoulder.

  I stood in the shadows and watched. A drop of sweat maneuvered down his cheek, and although it seemed impossible, his frown got even more profound as he strummed a guitar. Myles was all about the drums the last time I was down, but I guess with his talent, it was natural to progress to other instruments.

  Absorbed in the music, he didn’t hear my footsteps until I said, “Mind if I join you?”

  He lifted his head and smirked charmingly at me. I had filled out nicely over the last three years. And the way Myles was scanning my body with his eyes, I would say he agreed. I blushed and smiled for the first time in weeks. Guilt coursed through my veins. I had put Granny in a bind and didn’t need to add any more problems.

  Would being friends with Myles really cause any problems?

  Myles went back to picking his guitar.

  I used my hand to block out the sun from my eyes and sunk into the grass, pulling my knees up to my chest. “You do remember me?”

  “I remember a girl that looked like you, but you’re not a girl anymore.” The mixture of his changing voice, his southern drawl, and the hopefulness behind his tone caused my body to hum with something foreign to my fifteen-year-old self.

  I passed a hand over the side of my ponytail, pinning down a couple of flyaways, and raised one eyebrow incredulously. “What am I then?”

  “A beautiful woman, Blue Eyes.” He cocked his head, and a few curls fell into his eyes. I ran my fingers through the blades of grass to keep from flicking his messy hair off his forehead. “Wow, I forgot how truly blue your eyes are,” he added, so quietly, I leaned into him to hear more clearly.

  “Are you hitting on me?” I wanted to ask. Or even wish. But I liked him too much to bring him into the hell that was my world. I stifled a humorless laugh. Myles was too smart to allow the horrors that haunted me to darken his all-too insightful heart.

  As if he could read my mind, he said, “I’m so sorry about your mom. Abby told mom she was picking you up yesterday. I guess you’re spending a few weeks here.”

  A few weeks? I hope until I at least graduated.

  I thought I had cried myself out, but apparently not, because tears burned my eyes.

  “Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything—”

  “It’s no biggie. It is what it is,” I lied. “You’re obviously still wrapped up in your music?” I asked simply to change the subject.

  “You can say that. The band has gotta few meetings scheduled with some managers. Apparently, they think we are good enough to sign or something.”

  “Wow, that’s awesome, but you deserve it. You were that good the last time I was down. I can only imagine how great you guys sound now. They’d be stupid not to sign you. You’re Myles O’Conner, an undiscovered legend.”

  “Hmmm,” he stammered out as his eyes swept over me. His dark lashes framed his amazing silver-colored eyes.

  Those eyes stirred the same feelings in me as the last summer I spent with him. It was the perfect summer until he kissed me. It had scared the hell out of him, and he ran.

  He didn’t say anything else, simply guided me to lay back on the grass. His fingers started strumming the strings of the guitar.

  He started singing—more humming, I guess. The humming continued and meshed with the guitar. He strummed the guitar over and over, fine-tuning and weaving it all together with his humming, then the humming gave away to the sweetest words. I was listening to him create pure magic.

  Lying beside him as he played, the feel of his leg next to mine, the smell coming from his skin caused my insides to stir and get warm. I had to heal before I could feel again.

  “What do you dream about?” he asked, pushing his long black hair back off his face with his fingertips.

  You.

  “I don’t dream really, never saw the benefit of it. When I was having a tough time, I would pretend I lived in downtown Atlanta’s Peachtree Plaza. I couldn’t imagine anybody having a hard time there. I guess that was as close as I’ve ever got to dreaming.”

  He started humming a haunting melody before bluntly saying, “I need to go. Mom will be up soon, and I need to help fix dinner before she has to go to work,” Myles said and sat up suddenly.

  “Work?” I asked.

  “She works nights. It’s jus
t Sawyer and me after ten. You will see me in the window looking for you.”

  I popped to my feet and twirled a strand of hair around a finger. “I’ll be sure to put on a good show. My bedroom is the last window on the left.”

  He laughed, and the sound did crazy things to my hormonal teenage heart.

  As I walked away, he fell back in the grass and let out a silent scream.

  Forget every other boy I had ever met; they had nothing on Myles O’Conner.

  I could have stayed right there forever, staring at his face. The way he looked sitting there picking his guitar left me wanting more. A stab of pain sliced through me. My heart pitter-pattered forcibly in my chest. A heart too broken to withstand the rapid beating. No one deserved more with me.

  The harder I tried to sleep that night, the more awake I became. I dragged myself out of bed, knowing Granny wouldn’t let me sleep the day away. I sat at the kitchen bar, watching Granny make strawberry pancakes. I had propped the door opened, hoping the aroma would catch the attention of the boy strumming the guitar in the backyard. He hadn’t been rude or completely ignored me, but he acted like he had better things to do than talk to a child who had recently lost her only parent. Maybe, he knew I wasn’t worth the hassle.

  “I thought it smelled like I was welcomed.” It wasn’t Myles, but Sawyer, who had walked in and snatched the Walkman, Granny had purchased me, out of my hands and then laughed as he playfully rolled his eyes.

  “Go out back and tell Myles he might as well join us too.” Granny started to whip up some more batter.

  “I don’t know. What if he is busy?” I asked, scared he would ignore my suggestion.

  “He’s gone with his dad and his new step-mommy to take family pictures,” Sawyer said as he drowned his pancakes in maple syrup. “Hell, if I had a step-mommy that looked like his, I would be begging to move in.”

  “You live on the couch at his real mom’s. Is that not enough?” Granny asked and slid two more pancakes onto his plate.

  I jerked the Walkman back. “Sawyer likes females almost as much as he likes your cooking,” I said to Granny.

  He shrugged, picking up a blueberry left on the plate I was using. “True,” he agreed, popping it into his mouth.