by Lily White
Lennon
July 13th.
It happened eleven years ago today, at some awful time when I hadn’t been paying attention.
Eleven years. It’s odd to think that an eternity can pass in so low a number, that an entire lifetime can set into velvet midnight, only for the sun to rise again over a world you never knew existed.
Who the hell knows where I was at the moment her chair tipped that day. Rope tight. Body fighting against what was coming.
I could have lifted her up had I been there. I was strong enough. Tall enough. I cared enough to try.
But I was somewhere else. Out with Dizzy most likely, running the streets or laughing like idiots in his father’s music store.
I was somewhere else when the only place I needed to be was home. When she’d reached the breaking point and couldn’t take the pain for a second longer.
All because of a boy, so stupid a reason it was almost comical.
Eleven years. Her simple gravestone showed the passage of time.
Emaline P. Carter. A name I’d once thought forgotten by everyone but me.
It wasn’t until after my performance that I remembered what the next day would bring. A benchmark. An anniversary of the worst kind. A day I’d spent regretting my choices, my absence, every year when it passed by.
This was the first year I’d visited her grave on the same date that she’d died. The first year I’d spent this anniversary crouching by what was left of her, this chiseled stone slab standing within a quiet graveyard and only the birdsong to keep it company.
My weight fell heavy on the ground where I sat staring, my fingers idly pulling at bits of weeds and grass.
Next to her tombstone lay the wilted flowers I’d brought to her several weeks ago. Beside them a new dozen that was a pop of color against the remnants of the past.
It was still early in the morning when I’d arrived here, the sun not yet fully breaching the horizon, a thick, heavy mist hovering over the ground to blanket the grass and grave markers.
When I left the house, Amelia had been sleeping, her body limp over the mattress, exhausted from a night spent surrendering her will to me.
I’d used her as an escape, and she’d allowed it, giving everything without question, intuiting that what I’d needed in those late hours were necessary for me to breathe fully, for my heart to stop its slow fracturing.
Not one question.
Her surrender so selfless that it stole my breath to think about it now.
Like any day, time marched forward this morning, the sun creeping higher as I sat quietly, the trees above me coming to life with the birds. A frog croaked in the distance, the low hum of a lawn mower from a neighborhood that bordered the cemetery.
Behind me, the heavy fall of footsteps sounded over the twigs along the path, a rustle of plastic that forced me to spin in place to acknowledge I was no longer alone.
I wasn’t sure if it was instant rage or shock that froze me in place. A flurry of thoughts raced through my head, my fingers curling against my palms with the need for violence. But even as my muscles tensed painfully at the sight of Amelia’s brother, I paused, my eyes scanning to his hand where he held a dozen white roses and back to his eyes where I saw the same pain as mine.
“What are you doing here?”
Ben was smart to keep his distance. I wasn’t sure I could hold back from the need for vengeance tearing through me.
Gaze narrowing on me with the same hatred I felt for him, he flicked a glance to Emaline’s gravestone, his expression softening just a touch. “I come here every year on this day.”
“Why?”
Surprise at his confession swept in like a brisk wind kicking up the pristine surface of a calm lake, the image I had of him scattered, a seed of question planted where it had no right to be.
“Because I loved Emaline. I was destroyed when she-“
Ben winced, unable to finish the sentence. I knew the reaction well, knew how difficult it was to say aloud the truth of what my sister had done. Even so, how fucking dare he pretend that he hadn’t been the cause of it?
Pushing to my feet, I marched toward him, my hands fisted, my face twisted with the hatred bleeding out of me.
It occurred to me that a graveyard was a place of rest and serenity, but I couldn’t contain the anger, the red hot rage, the violence demanding blood for all the ways this son of a bitch had wronged me.
For Emaline.
For Amelia.
He didn’t deserve one ounce of my patience or forgiveness.
Ben wasn’t stupid. When I pushed to my feet and stormed toward him he attempted to back away rather than stand his ground. But I was too fast, too furious, the monster inside finally roaring to the surface when my hand locked around his throat and I backed him into the thick trunk of a Live Oak.
Above us Spanish moss swayed in the branches, a few startled birds taking flight, while at our feet his bullshit roses fell to the ground.
Ben’s head snapped back against the trunk, his jaw tight as my fist smashed into his nose, blood bursting with the sharp crack.
“Fuck!” Hands lifting, Ben attempted to break the second punch and the third, but I was a man possessed, my rage at every shitty thing this asshole had done taking over.
“Stop! What the fuck?”
Punches four and five cracked with quick succession before I dropped him, my eyes wide and wild as I stepped back to watch him spit blood onto the ground.
Chest rising and falling with my breath, I was seeing red, the vengeance I’d wanted with this son of a bitch not yet sated because he refused to fight back.
Ben spit again, his neck craning up, one eye already swelling when he glared at me.
“I should give you that shit right back for whatever the hell it is you’re doing with Amelia. The only difference is I’m not willing to beat the shit out of Emaline’s brother right over her goddamn grave.”
I laughed, the bark of sound cutting straight to the bone. “What I’m doing? I’m not the one using Amelia like a damn slut to lure men into alleys. I’m not the one asking her to let strangers grope her so I can get a little bit of cash. Look in a fucking mirror before you question what I’m doing.”
He didn’t respond immediately, so I filled in the silence for him. “And why do you give two shits about what happens over Emaline’s grave? You’re the one that put her there.”
His eyes rounded, dark saucers reflecting my rage back at me. Surging to his feet, he closed the distance and locked his arms around my body, both of us crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.
Pain shot along my spine, but it didn’t shake me free of the need to hurt this man as much as he’d hurt Emaline, as much as he’d hurt Amelia...as much as he’d hurt me.
His fist slammed into the side of my head, but I was already tipping his balance, rolling him right so my weight would pin him down as I rained blow after blow against his jaw.
Ben had more practice fighting, most likely a result of those back alley muggings, and gained the upper hand again, throwing me off him and jumping forward to jam a knee into my thigh, his fist crashing down into the center of my chest.
“Where the fuck is my sister?”
Another punch impacted my stomach, but he couldn’t move fast enough to dodge a blow to the face that knocked him onto his back.
Winded, I pushed to my feet and glared down at the bloody mess of his face. “Why do you care? Do you need money? Because that’s the only use you seem to have for her.”
This was not how I’d intended to spend my morning, but now that the son of a bitch was here, I thanked the universe for delivering him.
Kicking him in the ribs, I backed off when he spit out more blood, my chest heaving as pain crawled like fire beneath my skin.
“Is she staying with you?” he asked, spitting again before pushing up on his arms to turn and look at me. “Are you fucking my sister?”
He lunged forward to grab my ankle and pull me down. I ba
cked away and kicked dirt into his face. It was a cheap move, but at that point, I didn’t care.
My voice was a harsh growl. “Get the fuck out of here and never show your piece of shit face around Emaline’s grave again.”
“Why?” He yelled, his booming voice chasing a few more birds from the trees. “What did I do to Emaline?”
“You killed her, you son of a bitch. Fucking played her like she wasn’t worth your time or respect.”
Ben’s eyes rounded as much as they could beneath the swelling. “What are you talking about? I treated her like gold. I was in love with that woman. Where in the hell would you get the idea that I did anything to hurt her?”
If I didn’t know better, if I didn’t have Emaline’s note tucked away in my wallet where it had stayed since the moment I found her body hanging in her room, I would have believed him. Ben was genuinely shocked by the accusation, anger vibrating across his shoulders, blood pouring from the split in his lip.
“From her note,” I answered, my voice far too calm.
“What note? There was no note. I asked your parents after you moved away.”
Stilling in place, I thought back to whether mom or dad had mentioned a visit from Ben. Neither of them lived longer than two years after Emaline died. I didn’t speak with them too often before their deaths, but it wasn’t like we were completely out of touch. Not once had they mentioned any person coming by to ask about Emaline.
Even if he was being truthful and had spoken to my parents, they wouldn’t have known the truth about why Emaline took her life. I pocketed the note as soon as I found her. It was addressed to me, and for that reason, I didn’t see the need for any other person to know why my sister felt she couldn’t go on living her life.
Pushing himself up off the ground, Ben dropped his weight into a seated position, dirt dusting up around his sides. He stared at me silently, his face smeared with blood, dirt and sweat.
“She left a note when she died,” I explained. “One that detailed what you did to her in your relationship. I would have hunted you down that day if I knew who you were. All I knew about you was what you looked like, but I didn’t know your name. Not until I saw you again with Amelia. Seeing as how you didn’t care to introduce yourself to any of Emaline’s family or friends, it makes sense that you would use her and toss her aside. That is why she did what she did. I have it written in black and white.”
Shaking his head, he held my stare, ignoring the sweat that dripped down into his eyes. “I dated Emaline. I’ll admit that, but I didn’t do anything to her. And the only reason we weren’t open about the relationship was because she knew your parents would break us apart. They were too focused on her becoming a musician and didn’t want her to have distractions. But I wanted people to know we were together. I wanted us to have a future together. Why would I treat her like crap when I wanted that?”
“Emaline said it was you-“
“Did she write my name specifically in that letter? Did she say Ben Dillon broke her heart?”
Obviously not, or I would have known who to hunt down and kill back then. “No.”
Shaking his head again, he spit more blood onto the ground beside him. “Do you still have the note? Because I didn’t do anything to her. I may be a bastard for some of the things I do now, but I treated your sister like gold. If someone broke her heart to the point where she would kill herself over it, I can promise you it wasn’t me.”
A bark of laughter burst from my chest. “I’m not sure it even matters anymore.”
“Oh, no. Actually, it matters to me. If her heart was broken over a guy back then, that means she was seeing someone else at the same time she was dating me. And I’d sure as hell like to know who that son of a bitch was.”
I didn’t want to believe him. After all this time and for as much as I wanted to continue hating Ben, the last thing I wanted to believe was that I’d been wrong about who had pushed Emaline to committing suicide. But I couldn’t deny he was as upset as me to learn there had been another person who broke her, that there had been another man who used her and tossed her aside.
“Do you still have the note?” he asked again.
“Why?”
His grin was feral. “Because if there is someone out there walking around Sheldon that did something to hurt Emaline, I don’t give a shit how much time has passed. I have a bone to pick with that motherfucker.”
Everything inside me was screaming to disagree with him. When would Emaline have had the time to see someone else? Ben was right about one thing. Mom and Dad were strict on her when it came to her schedule.
If she wasn’t at school or piano lessons, she was home practicing or doing her homework. The fact that she’d somehow snuck a relationship in with Ben was surprising. But for there to be a second guy? It was impossible.
The note was in my pocket. It would be so easy to tell him I didn’t have it and go on living my life believing he was the asshole who’d hurt her. But if there was somebody else, if there was the slightest possibility I’d been wrong, I needed to know the truth.
Pulling my wallet from my pocket, I removed the note that was worn thin and had faded over time. I didn’t want this asshole touching it, yet I couldn’t bring myself to read it aloud either. Not here. Not today. Not while facing a man I still blamed despite his claim that he had nothing to do with Emaline’s death.
Staggering over a decision, I battled myself as to whether I should tuck the note back in the wallet where it was safe, or if I should let Ben read it.
If there was someone else…
If it was possible…
“Crawl over here,” I finally said, unfolding the note and holding it out where he could read it.
“I’ll let you look at it, but keep your damn hands to yourself. This is the last part of her I have, and if you so much as flinch in my direction like you plan to touch it, I’ll kick in you in the face so hard you’ll need a full set of dentures to replace your teeth.”
Ben glared my direction, but finally moved his ass to look at the letter I held out. His eyes scanned the words, disbelief twisting his expression. I saw pain in his gaze as he absorbed Emaline’s final thoughts, but I didn’t want to believe what I saw.
Shaking his head, Ben pushed to his feet and ran his hand through his hair, dirt and leaves falling to the ground.
“She wasn’t talking about me.” His jaw was tense, the pain I believed I saw earlier transitioning into anger. “I’ll find out who it was. I don’t know how, but somehow I’ll find out.”
I didn’t want to believe him. Folding the note and tucking it back into my wallet, I stepped away from Ben, not trusting he wouldn’t attempt to start the fight again.
“You need to leave.”
A beat of silence and then, “You need to tell me where the hell Amelia is staying.”
I laughed. “As far away from you as possible.”
I met his stare. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you for what you’ve done to her. How many times have you risked her safety so you could make some quick cash? How many fucking times have you involved her in a crime for money? Grow up, Ben. And while you’re doing that, you can stop worrying about where she is. If you’re so fucking concerned, you should be happy she’s away from the one person who keeps threatening her future.”
Turning away from him, I took a few steps to leave the cemetery before he called out to me in response.
“You’re the one paying for my dad to be in a group home, aren’t you?”
Stilling in place, tension ran across my shoulders. “Yeah, do you have a problem with that, too?”
Without looking back at him, I waited for his response.
“I wanted to thank you for it, actually.”
Casting him a glance over my shoulder, I shook my head.
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Amelia. If you want to thank me, get your shit together so she has a brother that makes her proud, instead of a piece of shit that drags her down every
fucking chance he gets.”
With that I left him standing in the cemetery, the roses he’d brought Emaline crushed and scattered over the dirt.
It wasn’t easy putting one foot in front of the other. Everything inside me told me to turn back and finish what I’d started. But where would that leave me?
Amelia’s future in music depended on me to get her through the program. Killing Ben would only hurt her. Going to jail would only hurt her.
I refused to be the person that destroyed her chances, and for that reason, I walked silently to my car and drove away, my thoughts scattered and tossed over the possibility that what Ben said about another man involved with my sister had been true.
Amelia
I stayed up most of the night with Lennon. Not knowing what had driven him into such a dark place. I didn’t whine or complain from exhaustion, didn’t shy away from every escape he sought in using my body. In a way, the passion between us was in perfect harmony despite the discordant notes that existed inside him.
Feeling every bit of his anger and pain, I endured, not that being with him was a chore, but it hurt to know something lingered within him that he wouldn’t reveal.
He left early in the morning, and even though I was physically drained from a night spent meeting his every sexual desire, I couldn’t sleep once my head hit the pillow, couldn’t get my mind to stop racing through thoughts of what could have caused him to become distant.
A few hours had passed since he’d left, and still my mind raced. I gave up on sleep after a while, found myself wandering his large house in search of my own escape. Eventually, I found myself at his piano, my fingers lightly brushing over the keys in wait of the music inside me to come out.
The melody that finally poured from me was somber and heartbreaking, a song that I couldn’t remember learning, yet it somehow was there inside. The house filled with the music, a crescendo of bitterness and regret, the notes driving down until just a whisper resonated through the empty rooms.
Tears welled in my eyes as I became lost to the melancholy, my mind recalling the pain of losing my mother, the pain of my father’s disease, the fear I’d lived in since the moment we were forced to give up our comfortable lives and move into the heart of Sheldon.