Chapter 18 #2
I grab a few pieces out of Alistair's hand and shove them into the pocket of my coat. “Just for you, Amos.”
Occasionally I’ll give him a piece of candy and going on 8 years strong I think he’ll be ok.
When I look up, Kian still stares at me over his camera.
Something creeps up my neck, a slow and traitorous warmth that heats my cheeks as the feeling of humiliation crosses me.
I bite on my tongue piercing, trying to will away the memory of his lips on mine, the way he held me with certainty, and worst of all the way he spoke as if he knows the parts of me I keep buried.
I hate that my body responds faster than my mind can and I hate that when I think of him standing there, so calm, that it doesn’t repulse me. I actually feel seen.
Alastair leans closer and I see the brief flicker of something dark in Kian’s gaze. I nod absentmindedly at Alistair's words, nodding and smiling when I’m supposed to. Alistair’s safe and he’s everything I should want right now.
So why does my heart skip faster for the bully across the street? The guy with no emotions or remorse.
Kian seems to notice the thoughts going through my head. He reads my eyes, noticing my confusion and steady flow of denial and he lowers his camera to his chest. No sadistic smirk or smile is present, just the quiet calculation he carries to block his feelings.
My blush deepens and I look away in anger. If I keep looking it’ll only feed into his ways, into the destruction as I've become so weak and reckless I have somehow fallen from the light into the darkness.
Those thoughts settle heavy and undeniable in my heart. I feel shameful but also a thrill for many more awakens and the grief of her passing does strange things to my judgement.
Somewhere along the way I’ve lost sight of the real goal and wanting to escape his attention has become something I no longer want.
“Should we get food before we go?” Alistair asks.
“Yeah, we wouldn't want to be hungry in an unknown town,” I respond as we walk to town.
The parade is finally over after two hours of gospel music, brass, and saints with floats. It was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it was too cold for a two hour long parade.
“How does pizza sound?” He asks and stops in front of a pizzeria I had only noticed now.
“Sounds delicious.” The windows are fogged and the open sign flickers. As we step inside, the mouth watering scent of oregano, grease, and heat engulfs me in a comforting, inelegant way.
Who doesn’t love pizza with its ooey gooey cheese and salty pepperoni?
A few couples or friends sit around in the weathered booths or high tables as soft Christmas music echoes through the speakers. Alistair points to a booth in the corner and I sit while he orders the food; two slices of pepperoni pizza, a black coffee for him, and water for me.
He comes back with our tray and as we eat the conversation drifts to the town that’s only twenty minutes from Windale where P. Walker stays.
“Do you think this guy knows anything?” He asks.
I shrug mid–bite. “I don’t know, hopefully more than Lilith knew.”
“Hopefully,” he mumbles. “We can go to my house after here and grab my car, so we can get there before night falls, if that’s ok with you?”
“Of course, thank you, really. I was drowning in this alone without the help of my father and I didn’t know what else to do,” I admit.
A spike of something curls in my stomach and I put my slice of pizza down.
Kian's words echo in my head, ‘I know you want answers and you're picking people too kind to give them to you.’ Was telling Alistair a mistake? I shake my head, I trust he won’t fail me. I have to trust him because he’s my friend.
“Thank you for telling me. I can imagine it was hard telling a guy you’d just met all your secrets. Plus, I don’t mind helping you.” He grabs my hand and smiles.
I smile. “Of course I trust you, Alistair.”
“I trust you, Sylvia,” he reiterates.
When he finishes his slice of pizza and gets another cup of coffee to go I follow behind him to his home. Nerves begin to eat away at me and the piercing in my mouth clinks against my teeth.
“You don’t have to be nervous, they're really nice people, I promise.” He reassures me but I continue to pick at my jewelry.
I hate first impressions. What if my style is too weird for them or what if I have an off putting smell?
As we walk up to the black wrought iron gate I look up at it in surprise. Alistair's rich, like old money rich. The initial for his last name is engraved into the iron and they open on their own.
“Oh,” I say before I can stop myself.
My nerves increase by a thousand. I don’t know why I thought Alistair was middle class like me considering he grew up here.
Alistair smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I forgot to mention it.”
“It’s ok.”
As we walk down the tree framed driveway and up to the polished home, my eyes steadily increase in size. The tan mansion itself is old but in immaculate condition. It’s made of stone with tall windows and screams old money. A type of wealth that doesn’t need to announce itself.
He walks up the looming steps and I follow silently trying to prepare myself.
He opens the heavy wood doors and we step inside, warmth and the faint scent of citrus and floral engulfs me, I can’t help but breathe it in.
It smells like Alistair, so clean. I look at the lace white curtains letting in heavy light and the tan loveseats in front of the hearth.
“Alistair?” A woman calls from somewhere.
Another voice follows that is quite the same but softer. “Is that you, dear?”
“Yeah it’s me moms,” he yells back.
They both walk from a room to the left that I assume is the kitchen.
One wears an apron while the other doesn’t mind having sugar on her floral dress.
They both look elegant but in different ways.
The one with blonde hair and blue eyes is soft and she smiles immediately when she sees me, while the brunette with green eyes is more sharp eyed and composed.
“I’m Jessica and you must be Sylvia?” The one with blonde hair, Jessica asks.
She pulls me into a hug and a floral smell wafts me in the nose. I smile and hug her back, surprised but welcomed.
“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you Jessica,” I say as we part from the hug.
“And I’m Dan or Danielle, whichever you prefer to call me. It’s so nice to meet you.” She pulls me into a hug as well and the citrus becomes understandable.
“It’s a pleasure meeting you.” I release from the hug and step closer to Alistair. A blush heats my cheeks from all the attention and I turn to him.
“Our little boy has told us so much about you, Sylvia,” Jessica says and Alistair's ears turn red.
I giggle and nudge him. “He is one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”
“Of course.” Dan responds. “We did raise him after all.”
I agree and Alistair coughs into his hand.
“We’ve got to head out, research assignment.” He grabs keys from the marble table near the door.
They both give us fond looks. “Be careful, please.” Jessica bites her lip as she looks at her boy in worry.
“I will mama. I love you both.” He kisses both of their cheeks and the blush on his ears spreads to his cheeks.
The coat I'm wearing suddenly becomes heavy at the familiar nickname. He has two mothers and I only have memories. An ache blooms in my chest as envy tangles with grief and admiration wraps around absence. They both look at him with ease and love, my mother’s presence comes back to me the way it always does.
It’s uninviting and a sharp bitterness settles in me.
I try to remember her laugh and the familiar scent of lavender.
The way she looked at me as she braided my hair and I imagined what she’d look like now as I drove to a town she didn’t want me to seek but I dismiss it because she deserves justice.
His life is filled with something so beautiful while mine tangles with grief. I don’t want to feel envious or jealous because he deserves them the same way I deserve mine.
“Don’t be afraid to come back, Sylvia.” Jessica’s voice snaps me out of my trance and I look up at her through blurred eyes..
“Yes ma’am.” My voice croaks and I cover it up with a cough.
Alistair doesn’t say anything or maybe he doesn’t notice my broken expression which I hope the latter is true.
Alistair opens the front door for me and I wave at his beautiful mothers. They smile and walk back to the kitchen.
“They’re really nice.” I admit with a smile.
He nods. “Always have been once my father left. Jessica is my biological mother by the way.”
“I figured. You two look identical.” He chuckles and opens the door to his Lexus. I grip Amos' carrier tighter to me as I sit down on the cloth seat and wait for him to start the car.
When he gets in, the car hums to life, it's smooth as he turns the heat on full blast.
“You ready?” He asks.
I nod certainly and look down at Amos. “One step closer to victory, little guy.”
He purrs and I unzip his carrier, letting him crawl onto my lap. I pet his mane and he remains content in my arms as we drive out of town. The buildings blur and the scent of wax becomes distant.
I lay my head against the cold window and allow myself to miss her because no matter what, even after I figure out her story, I’ll always call for her ghost.