by A. R. Breck
“Mom.” I give her a shake, just to make sure she’s okay. When she doesn’t respond, I push her over so she’s laying down instead of sitting up. Grabbing the blanket on the back of the couch, I drape it over her naked legs to give her a dash of modesty.
I stand up and walk towards my room. I can’t stand to watch her gray form. In the last seven years that we’ve been here, I’ve watched my mom shrink and wither away into a shell of a human. Full of bones and thin skin and not at all the woman she used to be. Not that she was ever great, but she was pretty, full of life. She barely acknowledges anyone now days. Sits on her couch to get fucked up, that’s literally the extent of her lifestyle now.
As I’m about to enter my room, I hear her mumble.
I take a step towards her. “Mom? Did you say something?” I take another step towards her, embarrassingly eager to talk to the woman who don’t think I’ve spoken to in nearly a year.
“Mom.” I say again. A little louder. A little harsher.
She mumbles incoherently and as I walk up to her, I freeze.
“Wren.” She says, and the blood drains from my face.
She’s still dreaming of her daughter who she barely knew, when she hasn’t paid any attention to the son who has been standing in front of her for nearly nineteen years.
“Wren.” She cries.
I turn around, walking to my room and slamming my door shut behind me.
I walk up to my nightstand and rip open the door, grabbing my bowl and lighter. I take the biggest hit possible, feeling the burn tear up my lungs and coughing my fucking ass off.
Maybe Cara is right. Maybe she shouldn’t keep the kid. I’m going to be painted as a murderer for the rest of my life.
Why would anyone want me to be the father to their child?
I know I wouldn’t.
13
Cara
Five months pregnant
"Are you on your way?" I ask as I bite my thumb nail when Rose picks up the phone. A disgusting new habit that I can't seem to break.
"I'm literally pulling up in front of your house right now."
"Okay. See you in a second." I hang up my phone and drop my head back against my couch. We're leaving for California tomorrow and I seriously have nothing to wear. I don't even have a decent enough swimsuit. Are we even going swimming?
Ugh.
My orders from Rose today were to pack up what I planned on bringing. The sad truth is that I have nothing to bring. Most of my clothes that I have now are too small for my baby bump, which is no longer a baby bump, but a fucking boulder attached to my stomach. I have four months left, and I swear my body won't be able to hold itself upright if I get any bigger.
It's fine to wear my clothes when I'm home, because I either wear oversized—now small—shirts around my house without worry that I'm going to run into anyone. But the thought of going to California with all these tanned, skinny, blonde girls everywhere while petite me walks around with a house attached to my midsection sounds so unappealing, I'd rather eat a bowl of nails for breakfast.
Another thing that's making me bite my nails to the stubs is the thought of going on a plane. I've never been on one before. Like, ever. Rose says it's nothing, it's the thought of it that's scarier than the actual task.
I’d rather drive, but Jackson brought up something about blood clots in legs of pregnant women sitting for long periods of time and flying is so much safer. Whatever. Jackson seems to know everything about pregnancies lately and it’s making me feel a bit incompetent. Shouldn’t I know about the blood clots? But I don’t. I know nothing. And it makes me feel like a shitty mother.
Fucking Jackson.
Lately, between us, it’s like we’re sweeping the baby and our problems under the rug. He’s been dealing with Easton and Rich lately getting ready for California, but when he’s around me, all chats about the adoption and our issues have disappeared. Evaporated into smoke.
I’m not even going to see him before we get on the plane. Him and Easton have been at the warehouse for the past two days and I’ve heard nothing from him. Easton has replied to Rose because well… I think she’d kill him if he went that long without responding to her.
This whole trip has just left a sour taste in my mouth. They haven’t been on a “job” since the Wisconsin trip, and that ended in bloodshed. The thought of something happening to one of them this time around is stressing me the fuck out.
They keep telling me nothing is going to happen. This job isn’t like the other one. Well, are they bringing a gun? Then they’re all the fucking same.
“Cara?” Rose opens the door and I hear banging. She walks in all flawless, legs for damn days in a summer dress with a slit up the side as she pulls an oversized suitcase behind her. “Sorry, this is the only other suitcase I could find. Might have gotten rid of the others when we moved.” She frowns, setting an ugly as shit, pink, girly suitcase in front of me.
Yeah, I had to ask to borrow a suitcase. The only thing I have in terms of a bag is my busted-up backpack from school. Rose refused to let me use it.
“Are you kidding me? That thing is fucking ugly.” My nose wrinkles in disgust as I point at it. I’m sure maybe a handful of people would like this monstrosity, but that much pink should never be on one item. Ever.
Rose frowns. “It’s cute! And it’s the only one I had left!”
“What suitcase are you using?”
She stops frowning and gives me a blank stare. “My Versace suitcase. Mine.”
“It’s black isn’t it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, it’s black. If you don’t want to use this one, I’ll take it home.”
“I told you I’d use my backpack.” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest, which end up resting on my ever-growing belly.”
Her eyes grow wide. “You’re not going to California with that thing. Come on, please?”
I walk up to it and grab it out of her hands. “I’ll use it. Shit, it should be burned.” It hurts my eyes, really. It looks like someone puked bubblegum and this was the outcome. Something that should’ve been torched and buried so deep into the earth I forget about it all together.
But no, instead, my hand is gripping it like a lifeline, and I’ve got a killer migraine starting in my temples.
“It’s fucking Gucci, Cara! Fuck, your pregnancy hormones are making you into a crazy bitch.”
I drop the suitcase and run my hands down my face. Guilt eats me up and I instantly feel bad for being such an ass. “Shit, I’m sorry. With everything that’s going on, I just feel like I’m kind of losing it, you know?”
She gives me an understanding look. “I completely get it. Last year… last year I did lose it.”
I frown. “Of course. Why am I bringing up my petty bullshit with everything you went through?”
Rose’s eyes grow wide. She walks forward, grabbing onto my biceps and looking straight into my eyes. “Stop. It’s not a competition on who had a more fucked up life. My life was like a combination of shitty situations that turned into an apocalypse in my brain. Your life, on the other hand, has been unfortunate circumstances that you’ve had to grow up with. You can’t help your upbringing and it’s just… it’s just hard. But I don’t doubt for a second you’re going to rock this world. You can’t help your parents being assholes, that Logan died, that Jackson is a fucking douche bag or anything that happens in the future. Most of it is out of our control. All we can control is how we react. Don’t let the bullshit get to you.”
I lift my chin and nod at her. I’m usually the strong one between us, and I don’t like how I’ve been so emotional these few weeks.
I hate being weak, and I feel so damn weak.
“I’m going to go pack.” I grip the suitcase again and start pulling it towards my room.
“Do you need my help?” Rose shouts from where she stands.
“No. I’m good.”
“’Kay. Then I’m going to go home and finishing packing myself, okay? I’l
l pick you up in the morning!”
“What about the boys?” I stop and turn towards her.
“When I spoke to Easton this morning, he said they’d meet us at the airport. Hugo was going to bring them.”
I sigh. “Is it really a good idea for us to even go? It sounds like they’re going to be working most of the time. Why even bring us?”
“Who cares? It’s a fucking trip to California. If they are busy the entire time, we can still have a good time. We can spend all day at the beach, go eat at good restaurants, ugh! There’s so much to do. You are going to love it.”
“Spend all day at the beach? I’m a beached whale.” I point to my stomach.
“Shut up. Are you being serious right now? You’re so tiny, you can barely tell you’re even pregnant.”
I flick her off. “Quit trying to make me feel better. My clothes don’t even fit me anymore.”
She laughs. “No, they don’t. But you’re still small. Check the suitcase. I’ll see you tomorrow morning!” She turns and walks out, and I furrow my eyebrow at my empty living room.
Check the suitcase?
I drag the suitcase the rest of the way into my room and laying it on its side, I unzip it and my eyes go wide at the contents. Clothes.
A pile of colorful clothes lays in front of me. Obviously, they’re Rose’s from the designer tags on each article of clothing. Also, each piece is a vibrant color. Not really my style, but can I really complain? Rose is more of a girly-girl. Dresses and colors and all that. I’m more tomboy, but I grew up around three guys, so who the hell can blame me.
I crawl over to my cellphone on my bed and dial Rose. Pressing the speaker button, I set my phone on the floor and wait for her to answer.
“You like it?” She says immediately.
“What is all this?” I ask in awe as I piece through the rainbow of colors in front of me. My chest feels tight in gratitude. No one has ever given me a gift like this, ever. My mom has only given me junk as gifts.
A puzzle with multiple pieces missing.
Do you know how that feels? To open a new puzzle and put it together, then the last two pieces are nowhere in sight? Shit sucks.
A pre-owned movie from the thrift store, and when I watch it later, I can’t even get through half of the movie without it skipping.
“I knew you needed something for California, and I know your clothes were getting too small. It’s the least I can do. Plus, I don’t wear any of them, anyway.”
My eyesight turns blurry and the colors turn into a watercolor painting. “I don’t know what to say.” I breathe.
“You can say thank you, and then wear something hot on the way to the airport tomorrow. Jackson will lose his shit.” She giggles.
“None of this will fit me. You’re like skinnier than I am.”
“Shut up. I’m really not. You’re so tiny, and those are some of my baggier clothes. They’ll fit you fine.”
“Rose?” I clutch a peach colored blouse in my grip, squeezing the life out of it as I try to keep my cool.
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
She’s silent for a beat and then murmurs, “Love you too, babe.”
I rub the burning out of my eyes. Pregnancy sucks. “Okay, I’m going to go try this shit on and pack. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sounds good. Woohoo! California tomorrow. You’re going to love it!” She screams through the phone.
“Goodbye.” I laugh and hang up the phone.
I rub my belly when I feel a kick. “You excited too, bean?” Next week I get to find out if it’s a boy or girl. I think it’s a girl, whereas Jackson is so certain that it’s a boy. We decided to not pick out names, because isn’t that what the adoption parents will do? I don’t want to get let down if I pick out a name and then they change it. But I can’t deny, I’ve already got a few names picked out. I haven’t told anyone, and I’m going to keep it that way.
I also narrowed it down to what set of parents I’m choosing for the adoption. I haven’t told Jackson about it, but Rose knows. I’m going to go with the professor and bakery owner, Mr. and Mrs. Simmons. I’ll be notifying the adoption agency when I get back from California. I’ve been stressing so much, and I’m hoping that I can just brush everything under the rug for the time being and actually enjoy a vacation for the first time in my life.
I imagine myself pressing my feet into the soft sand of the ocean and falling in love. I envision myself watching the endless blue water in front of me and not being able to tell where the water ends, and the sky begins. Maybe I’ll be lucky and never come home. I’ll never have to look The Grove in the face every again.
Fuck. I wish.
When in reality, I’ll end up coming home to this rust bucket and probably running circles with Jackson for the rest of my life.
It’s like we’re stuck in this circle of love-hate that I can’t escape from. But it’s not even love. Do I love him? No. I don’t. I loved Logan. With Jackson, it’s more of a passion filled hostility than anything else.
Could I eventually love him?
I don’t know.
Do I even want to?
I don’t know.
I just really don’t know.
14
Cara
The next morning, I wake up earlier than acceptable. Not only do we have to be at the airport to take the earliest flight in the entire world, but nerves got the best of me and I ended up tossing and turning most of the night.
Now I’m sitting outside, suitcase in hand, waiting for Rose. My house is already locked up and I can’t stop the shaking in my knees and my palms are sweaty. I’m so excited but I’m also so nervous and it’s creating a swirling nausea to weigh down in the pit of my stomach.
A car horn honks, and I look up, seeing Rose driving my way with oversized sunglasses and a massive smile on her face. I wave at her, getting up to double check that my door is locked before walking towards her. Not that I have anything in my house worth stealing, but the last thing I want is to come home to it being ransacked.
“Sorry I’m late!” Rose shouts through the lowered window. She shifts into park and gets out of the car. “Let me lift that.” She yanks my suitcase out of my hands and sets it in her popped trunk.
“Thanks.”
“Let’s go! I think Easton will literally kill me if we miss our flight.”
We both hop in the car and Rose starts driving the twenty minutes towards the airport. “What are our plans for today?” I ask.
“Not much on the agenda for today. We’re going to get settled in the hotel and I thought maybe we could go to the beach? The boys are supposed to be working most of the day, but apparently there is a party with The Seven tomorrow, and we’re invited.”
“Hotel? I thought we were staying on the… compound, or whatever it’s called.” Thoughts of staying with a ton of hairy, greasy, biker dudes make shivers run down my spine. I’ve seen enough shows and heard enough stories to know that a lot of those guys are not good people.
Rose laughs. “I thought so, too. When I asked Easton about it, he got in such a fucking mood. Possessive prick. He said he can’t work and worry about me at the same time. Went and booked us a fucking hotel the same hour.”
I laugh. So different from the Easton I grew up with. “That boy is so in love.” A balloon of jealousy expands in my chest. I wish I had the type of love that Rose and Easton have. The kind that is bound forever. Never a dull moment in their lives. Their love is almost too painful to watch. I want it so badly that I feel like there is this uncontrollable chaos that’s going mad inside of me.
I want that forever love so badly.
“So, what does the ocean look like?” I ask, my eyes glazing over in anticipation. I never would have thought in a million years that I’d be going on a plane to California. Honestly, I lived believing that I’d never go on a vacation—ever. I just assumed that I would never make it past the border of Minnesota or Wisconsin.
�
�What do you mean?” Rose asks as she nears the airport.
“I mean, what’s it really like? Looking at a picture or watching it on a TV can’t be anything close like seeing it in real life.”
“Oh, it’s not. Not at all. The ocean is so big. You think you know what it’s going to be like, then you go there, and you see this mass of ocean that surrounds you, and it’s just so blue. So big. It’s almost eerie, you know? All of that unknown in front of you. There’s a beauty to it though. It’s nothing like going to a beach around here. The breeze that washes over you from the cool water. The white sand is so much softer than the grainy sand at our beaches. It’s beautiful, Cara. I can’t even explain it. You just have to see it.”
“I’m so excited. This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Easton’s dad is paying for Rose and me to go. I want to question it so bad, but I don’t. I don’t want to be indebted to anyone, mostly someone like Rich Malone.
Rose parks the car and her phone starts ringing. A small smile fills her face as she answers it. “Hi, where are you?” She bites her lip as I hear Easton’s voice rumble through the other end of the phone. “We just parked. We’ll meet you there in a few minutes. Love you too, bye.”
“Where are they?” I ask, nerves starting all over again.
“They’re outside waiting for us at the doors. Let’s go.” She pulls her keys out of the ignition and grabs her purse, popping the trunk and hopping out of the car. I step out of the car and go stand next to her as she pulls our suitcases out of the trunk.
My pink suitcase against her black.
“Nice suitcase.” I snark.
She rolls her eyes. “Cut it, prego.”
“Just sayin’. You like this girly shit and I’m more of a neutral color girl.”
“Well, I like what you’re wearing now.” She appraises my jean shorts and flowy tank top which came from the pile of clothes she gave me last night.
“I look better than you in the top, don’t I?” I give her a cocky smirk and she scowls at me.