Chasing Memories

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Chasing Memories Page 3

by Adriana Law


  She squirmed in his hold. “No. Stop! If you don’t stop tickling me I’m going to throw up!”

  His expression suddenly turned serious. “God, it’s great to hear you laugh.” He adjusted himself over her and lifted his hand. She flinched thinking she was about to taste dirt, instead he gently brushed hair coated with filth out of her eyes. The way he stared down at her caused her to hold her breath.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  “Chase --”

  “It’s the truth, Gin. I have missed you.”

  Their gazes held. Her eyes fluttered closed as his head dipped and his mouth came down over hers. He took her bottom lip in between his teeth and applied sweet pressure, only to pull away leaving her wanting more. He wanted her to come to him and she did. She whimpered coming up to greedily claim his mouth. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, circling hers, she completely gave in to the long buried lust with a groan, her fingers digging into his hair. His weight rolled to her, as her right leg came up and wrapped around his hip. Her heel dug in to his rear-end. She forgot about where she was. She forgot about the wet mud, cold against her backside. She was just a girl with the guy who’d stolen her heart years ago. They explored each other mouths until she heard someone clear their throat nearby.

  Virginia broke the kiss. She tried to maneuver out from under Chase, her fingers splayed on his solid chest. His heart raced under her palm. She arched her neck and got an upside view of her brother standing on the steps. Her cheeks heated when she saw the disgusted expression on her brother’s face.

  Caught.

  Again.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

  She twisted free from Chase and stood up, straightening her dress. She darted up the steps, avoiding looking directly at her brother.

  “You need to learn how to show a little self-control,” Brandon snarled as she shot passed him.

  Five

  “What are you thinking kissing him? Hasn’t your little infatuation caused our family enough trouble?” Brandon asked her later that evening. They were in the den watching Taxi Driver with Robert De Niro—Brandon’s hands down all-time favorite movie. Brandon resembled the typical male, sprawled out, assuming most of the room on the couch as his domain. Virginia kept to her thin slither of what was leftover, her feet tucked under her bottom, her lap draped with a light blanket. She chewed at an inflamed hangnail on her thumb.

  “I know. I know. Trust me, I’m not allowing myself to go there again.”

  “That’s not what it looked like to me. It looked like that was exactly where you were going. You’re falling for his bullshit, like you always do.”

  “Well I’m not. And he was your best friend, remember?”

  “EX best friend. Do you ever see me talking to the A-hole? I wish he would leave and crawl back under whatever rock he crawled out from under. We’d all be better off.”

  “Brandon! That’s a horrible thing to say.”

  “Is it? Don’t you ever wonder what our family would have been like if he’d never been invited to live here?”

  Yes, every second of every day, but mostly she wondered what her life would have been like if Chase had never came there.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re the one who introduced him to our family,” she said.

  “Yeah and our parents should have been like most parents. They should have told me I wasn’t allowed to bring home strays. Really Gin, It’s probably a good thing you left. Maybe you should have stayed gone.”

  The hangnail she was torturing swelled with blood. “Have you ever told mom or dad how you feel about Chase?”

  “Why? You know they’ve always been blind when it comes to him. You don’t know the shit that’s been going on since you’ve been gone. Chase shot the neighbor’s dog.”

  Virginia couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped. One) Chase shot the neighbor’s dog was unexpected. Two) she found it hard to believe. Yeah. Chase had issues, but she doubted he’d hurt an animal.

  “Go ahead, laugh.” Brandon sulked.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. He admitted to it. Well he cried and said it was an accident. Guess who dad blamed? Me. He said I knew better than to play with his rifles. Chase is the one that convinced me to take the rifle out. He swore nobody would ever find out. I think he aimed for that old dog. He’d bitched about it barking all night. I’m telling you … something is not right with him and its only seems to be getting worse. Shh, dad’s coming. You better not tell him anything I’ve told you.”

  Virginia’s mouth snapped closed and she pretended to focus on the movie.

  “You’re watching Taxi Driver? Isn’t that a little too graphic for you?” her father inquired. A line formed between his brows, the same one that appeared anytime he was concerned.

  “You know its Brandon’s favorite movie.”

  Her father stepped in front of the television, blocking both their views as he bent and rummaged through stacks of dvd’s. “We have Steel Magnolias around here somewhere. If I remember correctly that was you and your mother’s favorite, wasn’t it? ”

  Brandon smirked and cupped his mouth so not be heard, “He thinks babying you will make you stay.”

  “Dad, its fine, I actually like this movie.”

  He came up, buried his hands deep in the pockets of his dress slacks and kind of rocked on his heels, blocking the best part of the movie. “Well, okay.”

  Her brother snickered behind a fist.

  She waved a hand. “We can’t see.”

  Her father gave a weak smile. “I was about to make dinner. Any request?”

  Brandon burped. Virginia shot him a disgusted look. “We’ve both had way too much junk food to be hungry,” she explained.

  Later, after the credits rolled, Brandon stood up. “Alright, I’m out of here.” He killed the television, gathered empty glasses and the bowl of leftover popcorn from the coffee table in front of the couch.

  “Oh no, my foot’s asleep,” Virginia said standing. She wobbled, while folding the blanket and draping it over the back of the couch.

  “That’s what you get for sitting on your legs the entire time the movie was on. I never could understand how you could sit like that all the time. See you in the morning, sis.”

  Virginia carefully made her way to bed, smiling. Tonight was good. Normal. She needed normal. Her fingers tips trailed along the wall as she moved down the hallway. A night light plugged in the socket on the baseboard lit her way. As soon as she opened her bedroom door, flipped the light switch, there in front of her on the opposite wall was a collage of words: SLUT, WHORE, TRADER, HARLOT, TRAMP, HUSSY, FLIRT, PRICK TEASE, BITCH… It was all there, row after row of every nasty insult imaginable…red paint bleeding from huge capital letters.

  She screamed, a hand covering to her mouth.

  Lights came on instantly in the other rooms down the hall. Her father and Chase rushed into the room, her father fervently working to tie the belt of his robe. Both men stopped, going rigid.

  Virginia whirled around directing all her anger at Chase. “You did this!!!”

  “What? Hell no, I was asleep.”

  “Liar!” Her hands made fists by her sides.

  Her father shook his head. “Virginia honey, let’s not go pointing fingers. Why don’t we go into the living room and sit down?” He put a reassuring hand on her left shoulder and led her towards the door. He paused and glanced back. “Chase do you mind cleaning that up?”

  “No problem.” Chase scratched his jaw as he slowly walked the length of the wall. He examined the display of insults, his head tilted. Great. He was admiring his work. Tears stung her eyes.

  “You believe him? Brandon was right. You are brainwashed.” Her eyes narrowed on Chase. “There’s been nothing but trouble since you came here.” She spoke around her father. “Brandon was right … you are crazy!”

  “Virginia! THAT’S ENOUGH! It’s not Chase’s fault!” Her father insisted.
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  In the den, Virginia perched on the edge of the couch leaning forward, the weight of her knobby elbows bleaching the color from her skin. She felt tears rolling down her cheeks. Not tears of sadness, but tears of betrayal. Her father sat beside her, quiet. A wire brush scratched over sheet rock, the sound coming from her room down the hall as Chase tried to erase what was written on her wall.

  “I don’t have proof, but I know he did it.”

  Her father exhaled. “I think if you’d take a step back and look at what you’re proposing you’d see how ridiculous it all sounds.”

  Her back teeth hurt as she clenched her jaw. “Okay, name someone else who could’ve wrote those degrading words on my wall. Come on dad, don’t you see there is no one else to blame.”

  “Is there anyone you’ve let down?” her father asked.

  Me. Virginia thought.

  “Chase is …” she paused, and proceeded with caution. “Do you know his dad used to beat him?”

  “Virginia!”

  “It’s the truth! Chase told me himself. Neither of his parents wanted a small child around. He interfered with their wild parties. They both argued over who was going to care for him when he was at home. His father’s solution was to make Chase stay in his room all the time. If he came out he would get the belt. I can’t believe you never knew. Why do you think he started staying at our house all the time?”

  “Chase told you this?” Her father looked shocked.

  “Yes. Before I left. He told me all about the abuse.” She shook her head. “You’re still not getting it. Chase has a dark demented side, one he keeps hidden. He can be aggressive, cold, manipulating….” Overwhelmed, Virginia felt her throat close up as the stories she’d never revealed to anyone finally poured out of her. Years ago, it would have been too difficult to talk with her father about such things, but she’d been around Lizzie for so long she’d grown used to being blunt. And vulgar, well Lizzie didn’t recognize the word.

  “Chase’s mother liked her sex rough. She’d have guys over …” She paused, checking her father’s expression to see if he was really ready for the truth. “She enjoyed being choked, whipped, painfully tortured ... sometimes with more than one guy. Chase told me once he watched five guys force his mother in to giving them all oral sex. Imagine the mental damage that would have on a small child.”

  Her father said nothing for the longest time, his face pale. She remained silent as well, listening to Chase scuffle around down the hall. Her belly reacted to the penned up stress, burning and churning.

  She continued, “All you’ve ever seen is his gentle side, dad, the side that only wants to make others laugh.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, she eyed the hallway. “What are we going to do to get rid of him?”

  “Get rid of him?” her father laughed out. “I admire Chase’s compassionate nature, especially after hearing all he’s been through. He broke the cycle of abuse by getting out of it. Do you know how hard that is, Virginia? Why don’t you cut the guy some slack? It takes a very strong person to outrun a tragic childhood like that.”

  “Why can’t you see he’s dangerous?” She sighed.

  “I think you’re a little paranoid.” Her father chuckled causing her to seethe with anger.

  He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Chase is not dangerous, far from it. I agree the words on your wall are disturbing. ”

  She just stared at him, confused.

  “Chase is the only logical explanation, dad.” Virginia said, eventually. She came to her feet. “I’m tired. Discussing this is getting us nowhere. You refuse to hear anything negative about him.”

  “Virginia, come back and sit down!” Her father called as she stormed away.

  Two steps into her room and she froze at the sight of Chase crouching in front of her suitcase. Dark hair fell forward in to his eyes as he searched through the zipper pockets with his right hand. He dug deep, searching—but for what? Her gaze narrowed as she stood quiet and watched, hoping to be provided with some answer. Not finding anything he proceeded on, going through her clothing. His fingers slowly slipped through her panties, her bras. He paused, his fingertips enjoying the thin silk.

  “Want to tell me what you’re looking for in my bag?”

  He made no quick startled movements, instead he rocked back on his hunches and ran a hand along his jaw, muscles clenching under the surface. She noticed the definition of his forearms as he stood up.

  “Curious … that’s all.”

  “That’s it? That’s your only defense?” She mimicked his deep tone and nonchalant attitude, “Curious … that’s all.”

  Chase shrugged a shoulder and leaned a hip against her dresser in a lazy sort of way. He dug a lighter out of his jean pocket and lit a cigarette. His Zippo snapped closed in the silence. He took several long draws before answering. “You’ve already convinced yourself I’m guilty.”

  “You asshole! Wipe that damn smirk off your face. There’s nothing funny about what’s going on around here.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. It’s not funny at all.”

  “Brandon’s figured you out and so have I? It’s only a matter of time before my father sees it too.”

  “And what about your mother, Gin?”

  “Oh, she’ll see it too! Everyone will see it!”

  He shook his head and took a long pull off the cigarette. He didn’t even have the balls to look her in the eye.

  Six

  Chase hung his head, his arms rigid, his long fingers splayed out against the slick walls of the shower. Streams of hot water pulverized the muscles along his shoulders. He doubled over and gagged as clips of disgusting memories came back to him in a sudden rush: the taste and pressure of a man’s penis in his mouth, being forced to pleasure a man while his mother lay passed out only a few feet away, how the same man had returned the favor giving Chase his first orgasm at the hands of another. Ten years old at the time, Chase begged the man, insisting over and over he had no interest in being touched by a male. His shaft growing hard as the man worked it had revealed the lie in his confession. As hard as he’d fought it, and he had fought it, Chase had found the man’s mouth on him enjoyable. He stayed bent over, gagging, but nothing would come up.

  Starting a long affair with his mother, the man came to Chase often, in secret, late at night, in the dark while Chase lay sleeping. Chase eventually learned to give in and no longer put up a struggle he knew he’d never win. He’d willingly welcomed the man into his bed, but not into his heart. He felt no attraction toward the man. Any man. Would his father have put an end to his mother’s love affair, or the man’s obsession with his young son if he’d known? Chase doubted it. His father spent most of his time trashed out of his mind. Only one thing mattered to his father, and that was his next fix. Truth be told, his father would have probably used his son’s experience to score more drugs without needing the cash, which he often lacked. Some things were just better left in the past and forgotten.

  Some things could never be forgotten.

  Chase’s jaw tensed as he grew hard. Damn it. He grabbed the bar of Irish Spring soap concreted in the corner of the shower. He scrubbed his flesh until it stung, becoming inflamed and raw. She was right. He was sick. Perverted and sick. He was the one that needed to be seeing a damn shrink.

  Forget it. It’s the past. It wasn’t your fault. Chase mumbled those words under his breath daily, ever so often to remind himself he was just a young boy at the time and didn’t know any better.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  He stepped out of the shower and toweled off, slid on a pair of black nylon shorts and headed for his room. It was late and the house was quite. Assuming everyone was already asleep he stopped by the thin crack in Virginia’s bedroom door. Light spilled out into the dark hallway. Hearing voices, Chase put an ear to the crack. He took a light step closer, careful not to make the floor creak.

  “Brandon, I know, I tried to tell him. He didn’t believe me.”

&nb
sp; Chase inched closer. He held his breath and listened hard as Virginia’s voice spiked. “No! I don’t want you getting in to it with Chase.”

  His forehead thumped against the door. He felt like beating his head against it.

  Wait, did you hear … shh.” Virginia voice was muffled.

  Chase sensed her moving towards the door. He quickly continued down the hallway toward his room, whistling like a guy that just stepped out of the shower. He was almost inside his room when Virginia stepped out in to the hall. He froze and turned, feeling her glare settle on him.

  “What excuse do you have for lurking outside people’s doors? Let me guess … you’re curious?”

  She stood with her back to the door she exited from, her arm tucked behind her, her right hand still on the doorknob. Was she trying to keep Brandon in or Chase out? He noticed the way her eyes dipped to his naked chest, the white towel tied around his waist, and the way her cheeks flared with color as he came toward her. He said nothing. Approached her with all the attitude of a hypnotic predator. She nervously threw a glance over her left shoulder at the door, obviously considering what would happen if her brother stepped out in to the hall.

  Brandon was the least of Chase’s worries as he gently reached around her and pulled the door the rest of the way closed where it was only her and him. No distractions. His chest pressed against hers, still damp. Her eyes widened never straying from his. He noticed the quick hitch in her breath. He caught the smell of mint toothpaste as her breath warmed his lips. His mouth hovered near hers, but never quite committed. He knew her well enough to know she’d give in the same as she always did whenever he kissed her, but he wasn’t about to kiss her. Not now.

  “I know you did it,” she growled.

  He grinned and tucked loose hair behind her left ear. “You do have an active imagination I’ll give you that. Night.”

  Virginia sagged against the door as he released her. He turned and walked away. She watched him go, exhaling a long breath when his bedroom door shut and she felt safe again.

  Seven

  “Why don’t you wake up? It’s as if I can feel you slipping away right in front of me.” Virginia grasped her mother’s hand tight. Early morning light filtered through the nearby blinds warming the covers piled on the bed. Her mother’s skin felt cold, her body lay motionless. Virginia rested her forehead on the side of the mattress. “Please, I don’t want to be here. I hate this house. I feel so alone all the time.” She lifted her head and looked away, blinking away tears. “If you abandon me…” and then she saw it, the prescription bottle under the dresser by the window. Something about it caused a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She crossed the room, went down on her knees and felt her way through cobwebs until she bumped the cylinder bottle with her fingertips. A little further. Almost. Her arm extended under the dresser as far as it would reach, until her fingers wrapped around the bottle. She dragged the dust covered bottle out. The typed print on the label read, Phenobarbital.

 

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