Sugar Lane Volume 1

by Harlow Hayes

  She reached out and grabbed the arm of one of the kids as they zoomed past screaming like a siren, high on sugar.

  “Hey, kid, what’s the main character’s name in that Frozen movie?”

  The kid looked at her, confused. “Who? Elsa or Anna?”

  It came to her then, and she let the kid go. They went sprinting off in the opposite direction.

  “Hey, Elsea, would you like a drink?” Rhema asked, standing.

  “Who, me?” Elsea looked up, confused.

  “Yeah, you,” Rhema said. “Come with me.” Rhema motioned her over.

  Elsea stood up slowly. Her mother looked confused as well, but only for a brief moment, then the conversation resumed as normal.

  Maggie and Luke looked at Rhema, disgruntled. She knew they were upset that she didn’t ask them, but she needed someone to keep Mrs. Kelly occupied, and they were already doing such a fine job.

  It was strange. Rhema knew that the family had planned on having a small and intimate affair, but no one was talking about the bride or the groom or their happiness. If Rhema wasn’t already involved in the wedding, she wouldn’t have known that anyone was getting married.

  Elsea moved like a slug into the kitchen, arms crossed, covering her chest.

  Rhema reached into the cabinet and grabbed a couple of wine glasses.

  “These parties can be so boring,” she said, pouring Elsea a glass of Chardonnay. “I hope you like wine?” She held out the glass out toward Elsea.

  She took hold of it without hesitation and guzzled it down.

  Rhema watched, amused. She was the nervous type, and she wasn’t having much fun either, so why was she there in the first place? She was supposed to be the blushing bride, and she knew that if the roles were reversed, she would be somewhere under her future husband and not at some little kid’s birthday party with people she barely even knew.

  “Why are you here?” Rhema asked bluntly. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of wedding stuff?” The question made her edgy. She had her own stuff for that stupid wedding to do, and the thought nauseated her.

  Elsea stood there silent.

  “If you don’t want to be here, you can leave,” Rhema said. “I will completely understand. If it wasn’t my kid, I wouldn’t be here myself.”

  Elsea smiled. “Can I have some more?” she asked, holding out her empty wine glass.

  Rhema smiled and watched her as she poured her another glass.

  “Aren’t you excited about getting married?” Rhema asked. She didn’t really want an answer, but the awkward silence was killing her.

  “I am.” Elsea looked over at her sister and the handsome man, her fingers fiddling with the glass in her hand.

  Rhema took a sip of her wine and rolled her eyes. Is that it? she thought. Was that all she was going to say? Why was she wasting her wine on this dud?

  It didn’t take long for Rhema to realize that Elsea was weak. Probably all of those years growing up with an overbearing woman like Mrs. Kelly for a mother. She hated her, she could tell. Rhema had hated her own mother, so she sympathized.

  If David was going to continue to insist she have a job, then this girl was the perfect project. Her boredom was mild, but Rhema knew this would be an opportune time to shake things up, and now she had someone that she could play with.

  Elsea looked over at her sister and the handsome stranger again.

  Rhema leaned forward from the counter to get a better look. “Is that her boyfriend? He looks a little too old for her.”

  “No,” Elsea said. “He is my fiancé.” You could hear the unsteadiness in her voice.

  Rhema looked again. You would have thought that they were a couple instead. They were engaged in a conversation that from all appearances seemed to be very personal. Their bodies were close, and the way Hannah laughed at whatever he said made it clear that there was more between them than a future in-law bond.

  Rhema’s observation skills sharpened by the second. She was a hawk, and these people were the perfect prey for the evening.

  “You know, your sister and your fiancé are very close,” Rhema said.

  Elsea looked over at them, the glass in her hand now trembling.

  Rhema knew she had struck a nerve. “What if they’re having an affair?” Rhema whispered, and a Grinchlike grin stretched across her face.

  The glass in Elsea’s hand shook even more. Rhema had her now, and she reveled in the power. She could see the wheels turning in Elsea’s head.

  “Watch the glass. I don’t want you spilling wine on my floor.” She smiled at Elsea, topping her off with more wine.

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding,” Elsea said, looking at the two interact.

  “Oh God, Elsea, lighten up. You are going to be such a bore to be married to,” Rhema said, adding more wine to her own glass.

  She took a sip and stared at Elsea. Such a bore, she thought. Such a bore.

  “I think that I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. You know … the wedding is in a week.”

  “That’s right,” Rhema said, nodding her head. “Well, I wish you the best of luck. He’s going to be a hard one to keep in line, considering how handsome he is.” She was teasing but also completely serious. The man was very handsome, and she wondered how an average-looking, dull-personality person like Elsea managed to snag him.

  A loud thud came from the ceiling, interrupting Rhema’s thoughts. “God! What the hell are they doing up there?” She sat her wine on the counter and walked out of the kitchen, calling for her husband. As she waited for a response, she monitored Elsea out of the corner of her eye, listening intently.

  Elsea was walking out of the kitchen behind her, moving slowly toward Peter and Hannah, who still seemed to be engrossed in such an entertaining conversation.

  When Elsea approached, Hannah walked away.

  “What were you two laughing so hard about?” Elsea asked. “We heard you giggling it up from the kitchen.”

  “Oh, it was nothing,” Peter said as he wrapped his arm around her hip. “She was just telling me some of her college stories.”

  Rhema walked on, looking for David, but she felt that something wasn’t right about that whole situation, and all she could think about was the fun she was about to have exploiting it. While walking up the staircase, she looked down over the party. Hannah had returned to her mother’s side, and a feeling of disgust rose in Rhema. She detested people like them. Rich and fake. She looked at Hannah, and she knew that she was the worst of them all. Hannah was a monster, and she knew because a monster could always recognize another monster.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Parents Suck

  Doubt raced through Elsea’s mind. She stood in front of the mirror as she held the long white dress up to her body. Had she picked the wrong dress? The thoughts were superficial and she knew it. She knew that her doubt ran much deeper than whether she had picked the right dress. The whole relationship had happened so fast she wasn’t sure if she had picked the right man.

  Peter was successful and handsome and charismatic. Everything she always thought she could never have. A man like him would never want a woman like her. Not in reality. When did someone ever get everything they wanted without there being a catch? She hoped, deep down inside, that he really did see something in her that was amazing. The beautiful woman that she always hoped to be, the one always there, somewhere in there, somewhere but buried deep inside. But negative thoughts consumed her.

  It’s not the dress. The thought kept repeating over and over like a broken record. Whatever it was, she couldn’t pinpoint it, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that she was about to sell her soul to the Devil.

  She fidgeted with the dress. The emotion was disappointment. She didn’t look like the other brides. The ones she saw all over magazines or even the girls she went to high school with on Facebook. They looked perfect. Perfectly slim, dress perfectly fitted, hair perfectly coiffed, and groom perfectly in love. It was expected for the husband t
o look upon his bride with loving eyes, but Elsea knew that Peter had never looked at her that way. The wedding was tomorrow, and all she could do was question Peter’s love.

  The thought didn’t linger when she realized that she was about to be moving out of her parents’ house, getting away from them once and for all. Her heart felt like it skipped a beat in its excitement. The abuse was wearing her thin, and she tired of hearing the same thing over and over about how she never did things the right way. How she could have been anything in life but settled on being a checkout girl. She enjoyed her work there, but everyone else wanted to shame her for it.

  A husband. It was the best Christmas present she could have gotten. It was a way out of that house. She looked forward to her honeymoon, but unfortunately for her and Peter, they wouldn’t be able to leave for it until after Hannah’s graduation party. That was the last request that she was going to grant her parents. She dreaded the whispers.

  You know that could have been you. That should have been you. Those were the words that her parents had whispered in her ear almost a week ago at the graduation ceremony while she watched her perfect little sister Hannah walked across the stage to receive her B.A., with her law school boyfriend cheering her on like she was a rock star. Oh, Hannah is so mature, they would say. Hannah is so beautiful. Hannah is so smart. Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. She was her little sister, but she outshined her in everything from smarts to beauty. She was confident with her perfect teeth, pouty lips, and natural blonde hair. All Elsea had was a tarnished smile with teeth that didn’t look like they fit in her mouth, adult acne, and mousy brown hair. She was plain. A nothing in everyone else’s eyes except Peter’s, and tomorrow would be her day, and no one could take that from her. She had found a man, and she wanted her due credit for accomplishing such a task. But as she thought about it, the doubt returned.

  “Don’t play with that dress!” her mother said, peeping into Elsea’s room. “I just had it pressed this morning. Don’t come crying to me when it’s all wrinkled again.”

  Elsea stopped looking at herself, walked over to the closet, and placed the dress back into the bag. Her head dropped in shame.

  “Do you have your shoes?” her mother asked.

  Elsea felt her heart stop.

  Her mother stepped toward her, waved her hand in her face, and snapped her fingers. “Hello, is there anyone home? Get it together!” she barked. “Where are your shoes?” She walked over to the pile of fake flowers that sat in the corner on the floor and began organizing them.

  “I left them at Peter’s.”

  Her mother placed her hands on her hips, annoyed. “And why are they at Peter’s? I told you to bring everything here, did I not?”

  “I know, I just—”

  “Elsea, you disappoint me. I know that it is your big day, but Christmas is in a week. Your last-minute wedding is tomorrow, and I have Hannah’s graduation party to think about. I need you to be on your A game.”

  Elsea could feel fire in her belly. Her mother’s voice was worse than nails on a chalkboard, and she only wanted her to be silenced. Her mind flashed back to when she was eleven and Hannah was nine. Hannah had become bored while their parents were out doing yard work one morning, so she decided that she was going to paint the bathroom with bubbles. She filled the upstairs tub and bathroom sinks up with laundry detergent and every type of soap that she could find in the house, then turned on the water. It overflowed from the tub and seeped into the halls, making a mess of the entire upstairs.

  All Elsea could remember was them rushing into her room. Her mother yanking her headphones out of her ears and her father throwing the magazine she was reading across the room. They yelled and screamed at her for not keeping an eye on Hannah, and she cried as her father’s hand fell on her backside, heavy and full of sting. Over and over.

  I told you to keep an eye on your sister, did I not? Her mother’s voice echoed through the room. And through her tears and cries and pain she could make out Hannah’s face, peering through the doorway of her room, smiling, trying to hold in her giggles. Even now, Elsea didn’t understand why it was her that they chose to punish and not Hannah. She was old enough to know better. All Elsea wanted to do was listen to the radio and dream about one day being as pretty as the girls in the magazine she was reading.

  She remembered going to bed that night shaken, praying that they would die. That they would all die. She remembered all of the other times, too, but her silence after that beating was perpetual. In passing, the old neighbors would mention her awkward, unrelenting silence to her parents, but they always played it off as shyness and mental deficiency. If they only knew the truth. The memory only made Elsea angrier, and she could feel the fire in her stomach rising up through her throat until it spit from her mouth.

  “I heard you, Mom! I heard you for the millionth time! I will be out of your hair after tomorrow. You can count on it. Then I will never have to darken your and dad’s doorstep again!”

  Her mother turned around. Shock was painted across her face.

  Elsea had never raised her voice toward her mother, but years of pent-up frustration oozed out of her. She had always been silenced in that house, never understood, never encouraged, and never loved. It had always been Hannah. She had taken everything.

  “What’s going on in here?” Her father walked into her room with a book in his hand and his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “What is going on here? I can’t even prepare to officiate without you two bickering.” He stood in the doorway, unfazed by the rare display of anger.

  They stood silent.

  “Hannah and her boyfriend will be back soon with her stuff, so you two need to remember that we have a guest, and I don’t want him thinking the worst of us. The wedding is tomorrow. This is supposed to be a happy and joyous occasion.” His words echoed in the hallway as he distanced himself from them.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” her mother said. “The stress of everything is starting to take its toll. I should have canceled the Christmas party this year with both the wedding and the graduation.”

  Elsea turned her back to her mother and rolled her eyes. The moments were rare when her mother offered apologies. It was even rarer to be called dear. She must have been imagining she was talking to Hannah.

  “I’ll go get my shoes from Peter’s,” she said before leaving the room.

  Her mother didn’t look at her, and Elsea didn’t look back.

  Elsea sat outside in her car, looking at the house. She could see her breath in the air and hear the sound of the wind blowing past the window. The house was covered in Christmas lights, and the whole block was aglow from them. Her parents always had the nicest Christmas decorations on the street. It was the perfect house with the seemingly perfect family, but it was never real.

  The house was a house of horrors for Elsea, and she couldn’t bear it anymore. This wasn’t even her wedding—it was her mother’s. Just another thing that she could take credit for, that she could orchestrate and run the way that she wanted to, but this would be the last. Elsea was going to have a husband now, and there was no way that her mother could manage Peter.

  Elsea felt an overwhelming aura of protection come over her. I am going to have a husband. The thought made her smile, and to smile made her uncomfortable because she hadn’t smiled in what felt like days. Her fears appeared to be lifting, but something kept nagging at her.

  Something wasn’t right.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Fiancés Suck

  Elsea parked on the street outside of Peter’s house, as per usual. She had an oil leak that never managed to stay plugged, and she didn’t want to be scolded for parking in the driveway. The lights were off in the house. Why had he gone to bed so early? The house had just finished being built, and the yard was still muddy, covered in straw. Cement bricks rested along the sides of the house.

  She hadn’t stayed over in a while in an attempt to build up some anticipation for their wedding night, but she was b
ecoming restless. Her parents’ house was wearing her down. She had wanted to move in months ago, but Peter didn’t find it to be appropriate. He seemed so traditional in that way, but their sex life said otherwise. He was a savage and untraditional in every way.

  Also with her marriage came a new car. Peter had promised her that weeks ago, and as she sat in her old car, she imagined the new smell, the feel of the leather against her skin, and the sound of the engine. Not loud like the clunker that she drove, but smooth with a low purr. She thought back to the day when she first met Peter at the grocery store. His smile had lit up the whole place, and Elsea was mesmerized by the smoothness of his skin. She remembered how good his skin felt against hers when they made out in his car. He did well for his age, thirty-two, with his own home, his own car, his own life. He was Elsea’s hero. The Prince Charming that every girl waited for. He was her knight on a white horse.

  Elsea stood at the door, breathing in the cold air. All she wanted was Peter’s lips on hers; she couldn’t wait any longer. She pushed the doorbell and waited in the cold, slightly frustrated that she still didn’t have a key. The conversation had come up a couple of weeks ago, but Peter, being a man of tradition, had told her that a key to his home was reserved for only one woman, and that would be his wife.

  While most women would have opposed this, Elsea found it to be sweet. He had boundaries that he didn’t want to cross until he was married, and that was commendable. He still hadn’t answered the door, so she pushed again then started fiddling with her hair. She wanted to make sure that it looked nice, even if it was the middle of the night. She stood, hearing rustling, but no one answered the door. She pushed the doorbell again.

  “Peter,” she called out. She stepped toward one of the windows that lined the sides of the door, peering through the glass, looking for Peter in the darkness. Then she saw that shadow of his body move toward her.