Twenty-Nine
“Did you meet the brother? Did you?” Tex bounces up and down like a child waiting for a pony ride.
“Yeah. He's cool.” I don't want her getting any ideas. She's taken this noctalis thing really well. Far too well.
“And? I need details. Height, eye color, do-ability.” She does that eyebrow thing again.
“Tex,” I say, putting my hands on her shoulders so she'll pay attention. “He's a creature that isn't human. That drinks blood, and would probably kill you. This isn't time to be looking for a boy toy.”
“Why not? I'm done with human boys.” She shrugs off my hands.
“Are you even listening to yourself?” She just rolls her eyes. What have I done? The bell rings and she skips away from me.
“We'll talk later. I want to meet that brother.” She spins so her skirt flares out. A couple of heads turn, but she doesn't see any of them. I'm going to have to warn Peter and Viktor about her. I never underestimate her when it comes to boys. She tends to go a little nuts. When Blake broke up with her I had to physically tackle her and Jamie had to hold her so she wouldn't go through with her plan to key his car, slash his tires and go all Carrie Underwood on him like in that song.
I resist the urge to smash my head against my locker and stumble my way to class. Maybe drift is the better word. I am so not present at school anymore. It makes me feel guilty, that I'm not getting the good grades my parents want me too, especially my mother. She's always the one who puts my report cards on the fridge and takes me out for a treat if I make the honor roll. There's not much chance of that happening now, unless a miracle occurs, which is not likely.
I do try to focus, but it's kind of a losing battle. When my mother had first been diagnosed, and I'd been in the bargaining stage, I thought that if I got really good grades, she'd magically get better. She got worse and I got straight A's. Nothing made a bit of difference, so I stopped trying.
I could probably get Peter to help me. He's definitely more book smart than I am, but that's only because he's had more time to read them than I have, or so I like to tell myself. Thinking about that makes me think of how much older he is than I am, which, in turn, creeps me out.
I can't think about anything without associating it with something unpleasant. That can't be a good sign.
I don't see Jamie until the end of the day. I know I've been wrapped up in my own life, but I know he's been avoiding me. I stopped leaving messages because his voicemail is full, and my texts have gone unanswered. I feel awful for not trying harder and when I see him slouching to his car at the end of the day, I've had it. I run to catch up with him. Normally, he walks so fast with those long legs I can't keep up. But the bounce went out of his step the second Cassie came back into his life.
He doesn't even jump when I sneak up behind him.“Look James, I know you're all sad and your family is falling apart, but I'd like to be there for you, if you'd let me.”
“Leave me alone, Ava.” He starts walking faster and doesn't turn around.
“Nope, doesn't work that way. You don't get to decide when I'm in your business. You're always in mine. Now I'm returning the favor. You need to talk to someone, so it might as well be me.”
He speaks through clenched teeth. “I don't want to talk about it.”
“Too bad.”
“Why do you have to always be like this?” He finally turns. He looks like absolute hell, like he's been on drugs for a while, tried to get off them and then got run over by a truck.
“You drive me to it.”
“Fine! My sister is pregnant. She's keeping it. She doesn't know who the father is, since she slept with a bunch of guys. My dad's been beating the shit out of me because he can't hit her and he's been drunk for two weeks straight. Is that what you wanted to hear?” I try not to look shocked. I'd known about the first part, but not the second.
“No, it isn't, but I'm glad you told me. Did it feel good to get it out?”
“Not really.” My Jamie, always a ray of sunshine has been crushed beneath a dark cloud. The only thing radiating from him is darkness. When I'd told him about my mother being sick, he'd brought me flowers and cards and candy and held my hand and texted me and made me lunch and had been the sweetest. I want to tell him so much that I understand, but I can't.
“Is she sure that's what she wants to do?” I'm not into destroying life, but it might be better if she... took care of it.
“Yeah. She said she feels like it was supposed to happen or something. Destiny.” He spits out the last word.
“Jamie, you need to say something.”
“I can't.”
“Why not?”
“Just drop it, Ava.” He's never talked to me like this. It makes my eyes sting. I change the subject.
“Is she looking for work?”
“I doubt she'll be able to find anything. No one around here is going to hire her.” When you live in a small town, all your transgressions, however minor, are immortal. Everyone remembers everything that everyone else has ever done. Especially if it's something bad, like getting arrested or doing drugs or crashing your car into the side of the supermarket, which she'd already done. Twenty years from now, people will still be talking about it.
“Has she tried Miller's? They have health insurance there.” Briefly, during one of her home stints, Cassie had worked at a restaurant. Granted, she did get in a fistfight with a busboy, getting herself fired, but experience was experience. The busboy had tried to grab her ass, according to Cassie. For all I know it's true.
“I'll mention it.”
“How's your mom doing?” Despite having a mixed-up daughter and an alcoholic husband, Sally Barton isn't a weak woman. She spends her life trying to make everyone think that her whole family is completely together. She does a pretty good job. Only Tex and I know what really goes on in that house. It kills me, and not just for Jamie's sake. It's one of the reasons I never go over to his house and why he does't ask me to. It isn't just his dad's drinking, which has apparently gotten worse.
“She's glad to have Cassie back. She took her to the doctor yesterday. The baby's okay.”
“Good.”
“Still not sure how I feel about being Uncle Jamie.” There it is. A remnant of the boy I know.
“It's going to work out.” I squeeze his arm and he winces. I want to ask, but I don't. Maybe I'm a terrible friend, but I don't think this is what he needs right now. He just needs someone to talk to.
“I wish I could believe you.” I give him a gentle hug. Just for a second. “Thanks, Ave.”
“You're welcome. Anytime.” I make it to my car before the tears start to fall. I've cried more in the past two months than in entire years of my life. I let them fall, wiping them away so I can see to drive. I hope Peter isn't around because I don't want to have another episode like I had before.
***
“No, absolutely not.”
“Come on, Ava, I want to meet him!” Tex is actually on her knees, hands clasped in front of her, begging me to introduce her to Viktor. People going to their cars are staring at her, but she's oblivious. Completely unaware that she looks insane. Anything in pursuit of hot guys, even if they aren't human.
“No! It's not going to happen. Just let it go.”
“How come you get to be so damn special?” Both of our voices are raised, and we glare at each other for a second before I cave. I need her right now. I need her more than I need to fight with her about this. Viktor would probably never go for it anyway.
“I don't want to fight.”
“I don't want to fight with you either, but I feel like that's all we do.”
“Let's make a pact not to fight.” She holds out her hand. I shake it.
“Deal. We won't talk about things that will make the other one mad.”
“So we can talk about frosting. We agree on that.” I hold up one finger.
“Yes. And Patrick Dempsey's hotness.” She holds one up.
“We do agree on that as well.”
“Ickiness of boob sweat.” Three fingers.
“Ridiculousness of Donald Trump's hair.” Four.
We go on like that until we're both laughing, holding onto my car for support. Someone walks by and mutters something about lesbians. I don't bother to shoot whoever it is a dirty look.
“There is something we need to talk about,” I say when we can breathe again.
“Cassie.” We both say it at the same time.
“I feel like we should do something.”
“Like what?”
I put my elbows on the hood of my car. “I don't know. My mom always bakes in crisis situations. When my grandmother had a stroke she made a triple layer cheesecake and a bunch of bread,” I say.
“Somehow I don't think that's going to help.”
“I also don't think they make a Hallmark card for this either.”
“'I'm sorry you're screwed up sister is knocked up' doesn't have a good ring to it,” she says.
“Not really.”
“We'll have to think of something.”
“Agreed.” We shake again, and Tex yanks me in and gives me a nasty wet kiss on my cheek.
“Luv ya!” She does a little twirl before skipping away to her car. She is so strange. But then, so am I.
***
“What's up, baby?” Mom says as I sit down at the kitchen table after school. I think about telling her everything is fine, but I just don't have the energy for it.
“Everything.”
“You okay?”
“Meh.” She hands me a plate of cake. I could smell it the second I got out of the car, and my mouth has been watering ever since. There's also another smell that I can't put my finger on that makes my stomach growl. I wander around the kitchen, searching for it.
“Do you want some dinner? I'm making fettuccine alfredo.” She sings the last few words, putting an arm around my shoulder. I take a few more bites of cake. It doesn't taste as good as I thought it would.
“Maybe.” The thought of the creamy sauce sends my stomach into a nosedive. I shove the rest o the cake away. I hope it doesn't hurt her feelings.
“I've having the girls over next weekend. I already called June and Helen. I just have to get in touch with Mae and Liz.”
“Are you sure, sure?”
“Yes.” She stirs the pasta with certainty. I really don't know if this is a good idea, but I'm going to keep my trap shut. They're her friends.
“Ava,” Dad calls from his office. Oh, I so do not need this.
“Yeah?”
“Can you come in here, please?” He seems fully recovered from his little breakdown and is back to his irritating ways.
“Sure.” I give my mother a look and she wrinkles her nose at me. Normally, that would make me smile. I give it a good effort before I walk down the hall.
“Close the door,” he says, looking up from the computer. He's been trying to do more and more work from home, but he just seems to do more work, period. When he'd been going to work every day, he would come home and be done. Now he can access it all the time, so he does.
“We've talked about you upsetting your mother.”
“What am I supposed to say? I had a shitty day.” It wasn't exactly that bad, but I'm not in the mood for him to be like this. Also, I'm really distracted. That smell is much stronger. It doesn't smell like any food I've ever had, but I want to eat it, whatever it is.
“Ava, don't use that language.”
“Why? Because it might upset her? Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Oh look, the house hasn't fallen down.” My filter is gone, gone, gone.
“Ava Sullivan.” He stands up. What, does he think he's going to intimidate me? “I will not have you speak that way to me in this house.” A wave of the smell cascades over me and I glance around the room. Maybe he's hiding something in here.
“I won't have you tell me what to talk to my own mother about. I had a bad day. I'm not going to go around smiling like some psycho so you can act like things are fine. They're not. Not even you can pretend they're fine, remember?” I hate throwing that in his face, but I can't stop myself.
“That's it. You're grounded.” He stands right in front of me. The smell gets stronger. It's coming from him. I want to get closer, but there's no way I'm going to do it.
“Oh, really?”
“Go to your room.” He points out the door, as if he expects me to march right off.
“No.”
“Go to your room.”
“No.”
“Go. To. Your. Room.” He gets right in my face, every word seething with anger. It doesn't scare me. The scent has kind of taken over my brain. I want it so much my stomach starts making noises.
“The only place I'm going is the kitchen to talk to my mother. I'm not five anymore, Dad. You can't make me do what you want me to by threatening to take away my toys.” With that I turn around and walk out, closing the door softly behind me. I can't slam it or my mother would get suspicions. As soon as I shut it, the smell lessens, and I can think clearly. I swallow the excess saliva my mouth produced and try to calm down.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing,” I say with a smile, hoping she'll think that we're planning some surprise for her.
“Oh really?” She smiles back. Mission accomplished.
I dash up to my room and shut the door, breathing like I've run miles. I have an idea of what the smell is, but I don't want to think about it, because then it would be real, and I would know it was real and it can't be. I can't want to... No. I'm not thinking of it.
It is always darkest before the dawn. The quote of my mom's echos in my head. Things are about to get a whole lot darker, I can feel it.