Chapter 2 #3
I stared at my screen for a minute, deliberating something, and not for the first time.
Finally, I opened all my social media apps and typed in, “Vail St. James,” but nothing came up.
I typed “Lee Knight” next. Nothing. Lastly, “Shaw Bishop,” and nada.
Nothing on any of them, the boys I once knew.
It was like they didn’t exist. I then wondered if life in Harley was so different that even teens there didn’t use social media the way the ones on The Hill do?
I knew things were different between the two zones of Ashland, but were they that diverse? Had I changed so much?
I tried one last time to look up the boys who had once been as close to me as my own mother, feeling almost like there was a sense of desperation just to see their faces again.
How different were they? Had they changed or stayed the same?
I wanted to find them and shout them down for abandoning me when I needed them most…
isolated in a place that was so unfamiliar, with people who hated me, who were out to get me.
I’d been pulled out of the only world I’d ever known and thrown into a pit of snakes at this school and was expected to just survive.
I’d been holding onto their promise that they would stay in touch, that they’d visit me here, and call.
But nothing. The moment I left, I ceased to exist for them.
Had it all really meant nothing? Everything we’d been through?
Frustrated, I tossed my phone aside and lay back on my blankets, staring up at my ceiling. I didn’t know what was taking Mom and Matthew so long, but I was starting to feel anxious and needed an outlet. I was tempted even to call Patrick for a late-night hook-up, when the doorbell rang.
What the hell…? I glanced over at my alarm clock, the bright red letters reading 11:22 pm.
Who was coming around this late at night?
In my old neighborhood, I’d be peeking out the windows, phone in hand, ready to call 9-1-1, but here, in a gated community in the most prestigious area of Ashland, I felt perfectly safe as I got up and went downstairs in my sleep sweats and t-shirt.
However, the moment I peeked out the peephole and saw two cops standing there, I felt like I’d been submerged in a vat of ice water.
I didn’t remember deciding to slide back the lock and open the door.
It was more like I was running on autopilot.
My body was just running through the motions until the next thing I knew, I was sitting on my living room couch.
The two cops were standing over me, as I listened to them explain how my mother and stepfather were both killed by a drunk driver on their way home this evening.
They mentioned something about needing to bring me into the station.
Some of Matthew’s colleagues at the hospital identified them both, and something else about whether or not I wanted to see them one last time, but I wasn’t registering anything.
There was a loud buzzing in my ears that seemed to be blocking everything out except for one thing…
Mom. My mother, whom I loved more than anyone in this world, was gone.
Matthew, my stepdad, who treated me like his own daughter, was no more.
I would never come home to see my mother pruning her white hellebore and filling the bird feeder with fresh seed.
I wouldn’t hear Matthew call out, “Hey there, pumpkin!” when he would come home from the hospital after a long day of work.
Those were the first two thoughts that popped into my head, and I immediately felt so stupid for thinking them.
I mean, I just finished hearing that my parents were both dead, and I’m thinking about Mom and her flowers and Matthew’s childish nickname for me.
What was my problem? I should be crying my eyes out right now and demanding to see them.
Instead, I found myself staring up at these two officers, feeling like I’d been turned into stone.
My face and my fingertips grew numb, but I couldn’t seem to digest what they were telling me.
I could tell they were uncomfortable with my reaction, but at this moment, I could give a fuck what they thought.
Instead, I just said, “I need a drink of water…” and I walked like a zombie, heading into the kitchen to pour a glass, which I downed in a second, and then poured another and another.
My hands had started to shake, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Why couldn’t I fucking breathe? When I slammed the glass down on the marble countertop, it smashed, sending glass everywhere.
Cursing, I bent down to clean it up, not thinking as I started to scoop up the shards.
I heard the two cops come rushing in, but I ignored them as I tried to collect all the pieces.
“Wait, wait, you’re going to cut-” One of them hurried over, but it’d been too late. I didn’t even realize I had sliced my hand until the blood began to flow, sliding down my wrist to drip onto the floor.
“Oh Jesus, shit!” I quickly stood, throwing the pieces into the sink, and reached for the paper towel. “Mom hates dirty floors, let me just get this… I-I…” I froze. Mom… oh God!
Next thing I knew, I’d collapsed to the floor, one of the police officers was holding me in a comforting embrace, but I held back a sob as I struggled to maintain my control.
Mom … she was gone. She wasn’t going to care that there was blood on her white Italian tiled floors.
She wouldn’t know that I’ve broken a glass, not that she would have cared much about that anyway.
She would have been more concerned about seeing my bleeding hand than anything else.
But she wasn’t going to come in, clean it, and wrap it up for me. Neither was Matthew. I was alone.
Mom… Mom… My breathing hitched as I tried to wrap my head around this, but my stubborn side was trying to bear it all.
I didn’t want to cry in front of these officers.
I’d never liked anyone to see me weak. Maybe that’s leftover from growing up in Harley, where tears were seen as a weakness, and that was the last thing I wanted to be.
So I screwed my face up, biting my lip as I fought to hold back the suffocating grief that was itching to break free.
When I was alone, I would cry my heart out. But not now.
The other officer came over and pulled my hand toward himself, pressing a wad of paper towel into my palm to slow the flow of the bleeding. “We can get this checked out at the hospital. We’ll take you when you’re ready.”
More thoughts came crashing into my head.
Mom had no other family. And Matthew, he’d been from the states.
His family was way down in New York, and he rarely spoke to them.
I had no one else. No one. I was all alone.
All alone… what the hell was I going to do?
I remembered Mom constantly muttering about having to get her will and everything organized, but she’d get sidetracked and would put it off.
What was going to happen to me? I felt sick to my stomach from chugging all that water.
When I thought about her and Matthew, dead, it made it even worse.
I could feel my grief in my throat, like I was choking on it.
“Do you have anyone you can stay with for the time being?”
Nylah . I nodded, sucking in quick, sharp little breaths as I shakily got to my feet. I’d pack a bag, send her a message. At the mention of her father’s name, Phillip Bryant, the officers said they’d bring me to her house after.
By the time I'd packed my bag and locked the house up behind me, I went back to being numb again. I didn’t know what I was going to do now. The only thing I wanted in the world was my mother’s arms around me. It felt like a punch in the gut to realize that I would never have that feeling again.