“I’m sorry, but those sacrifices were not made for me. I understand you’re hurt—”
“Do you? Because I don’t think you do, but I want you to. I want you to feel every ounce of pain I feel. You brought this plague on us. You brought the thunder and storms. Chad was a saint, and he died for you.”
Tears well, but my pride keeps them from falling. “I’m sorry for that. More sorry than you’ll ever know . . .” I keep the memory of life leaving his eyes from her. I’ll forever feel that pain and guilt. His death is a scar I’ll always wear on my heart. “I didn’t ask him to come—”
“You didn’t have to, but he went because that’s the kind of guy he was. He knew you needed help and he went.” She screams, “Leaving me alone forever.” She shoves me.
My back hits the wall and my arms fly up defensively. “Don’t touch me.”
“Or what? Who’s going to help you now?”
“You will not cower nor cater to someone disrespecting you. Not now. Not ever.” Alexander’s words come back to me. “You know.”
“Is that a threat, Sara Jane? Are you finally growing a spine?”
“What is wrong with you?” Stepping away from the wall, I push past her. “Obviously, I’ve made a mistake coming here for you.”
I make my way into my bedroom and close the door while she yells, “Clearly.”
I’ll send someone to get my suitcase and boxes and to pack the rest. I need out of this place. I need away from her. I grab my purse and walk into the living room. Shelly stands in the kitchen with a glass of wine in her hands when I walk by. I know her well enough to know that’s not the first drink she’s had today. Her meanness is coming from somewhere, and I think she found it at the bottom of a bottle. I don’t blame her. I’d do the same if I was in her position, but I don’t have to accept it. “The apartment’s yours. I won’t be back.”
“What about rent?”
I stop with my hand on the doorknob, and look back. “Alexander will cover the full rent for the remainder of our lease. It’s the least we can do to help.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, the least.”
This time I don’t respond. I leave. It’s hard to see a friendship die, especially one I thought could survive anything. It’s been put to the test, and we failed. Just outside the front door, I turn and look back at the place I called home for years.
The door doesn’t open. Shelly doesn’t come after me. No apologies are made. Our friendship is severed for good. My gut twists and my heart aches. Chad is gone. And now Shelly.
I still have Alexander. Maybe he’s all I need in life. Maybe that’s the right he always had when he claimed my soul as his.
I get into the car and start the engine. Peering through the windshield, I look at the window to the apartment. Shelly stands in clear view, her eyes burning with hatred.
Alexander wanted me to have a life and friends outside of him. I did, but now they’re gone. If this is what friends do to each other, I want no part of it. Why does everyone turn on you eventually? Is this a part of growing up or moving on?
Or is this a side effect of being with a Kingwood?
26
Alexander
The manor is dark for the most part with only a few lamps on the far side of the large room left on. The staff is gone for the day.
“Sara Jane?” The name falls on an empty house, my voice echoing. With my arms up, I close my eyes, and call to the heavens wanting my angel, “Where art thou, sweet Sara Jane?”
“Alexander?”
Not the voice I wanted to hear.
I drop my arms in defeat and look to the top of the stairs.
April leans against the railing. “Are you all right?”
“No. I’m not.” I walk to the bar under the staircase. As I fill a glass with my father’s finest, I hear her footfalls as she comes down. “I don’t want to talk,” I caution. The couch looks mighty comfortable right now, so I fall back, the amber liquid sloshing over the side and droplets dotting my shirt.
“Are you drunk?”
Holding my glass up, I laugh. “First drink, mother dearest.”
“You’re being rude.”
“I’m being me. If you don’t like it, get out.”
“Alexander!”
“Oh stop with the delicate sensibilities.” I polish off the drink and set the crystal glass on the table. Resting forward on my legs, I stare at her as she sits across from me. She looks tired, like the recovering addict she is. With no makeup on, the black circles under her eyes are darker, her cheeks more hollow, but at least her eyes are clear. She’s not using drugs, but is she using me? “Why do you dislike Sara Jane?”
“What? Is that what she told you?” She sighs, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her robe. “Alex—”
“Don’t Alex me.” My emotions teeter like my sanity these days, the alcohol exacerbating them. “Tell me you don’t like the way she mingles with the staff, or that you hate how much I love her. Tell me she’s been rude to you or hurt your feelings. Tell me something that will make me understand why there’s friction in this house between the two of you.”
“I think she’s a sweet gir—”
“No,” I say pointing at her. “I know she’s sweet. I know she’s good, so good that even her dark side is full of light. I know she loves me for me. Flaws and all. So why am I caught between the two of you?”
“You’re not. If you are, I didn’t put you there. I don’t know why she hates me, but she does. When you’re not around—”
“Don’t. Not when she’s not here to defend herself.”
“You asked me.”
“I asked about you.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
The coffee table skids against a side chair when I kick it. My back to her in seconds, to this woman I don’t know at all, but I’m supposed to love somehow. I crack my neck and walk to a glass door. Twilight is upon us, but night feels more fitting for my feelings. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
“What do you mean?” The panic in her voice causes me to turn around.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, the fury I felt when I arrived home dissipates into something more gentle. “I allow you to stay because, as the woman who gave birth to me, you should be allotted an easier life than you’ve had. I want to repay the debt my father had accrued. But Sara Jane is the queen of the manor, not you. If you so much as look at her sideways you’ll be out.”
“She’s lying to you. I think she’s jealous of our relationship.”
“We have no relationship.”
“I’m your mother.”
“Birth mother. You’re the woman who gave birth to me.”
“Gave you life.”
“Sara Jane gave me life, but I’m still serving time for having Kingwood as a last name.”
She stands and pleads, “I’m not the enemy. Not to you or to Sara Jane.”