Unravel

by Calia Read

  I couldn’t say that I watched the news, let alone read the newspaper. The most I ever did was scan the front page before walking away, going about my business. But right now, the clock ticked, and the fridge hummed and I stayed still, my gaze directed at the door. I walked over and opened the door. The newspaper was rolled up and held together with a green rubber band.

  I didn’t reach for the paper. I just stared down at the small piece of the front page. What I saw was a profile of a face: one eye, sharp line of a nose, and lips pulled into a thin line. My heart slowed and my entire body felt numb.

  “Oh, God,” I whispered.

  Everything became hazy as I picked up the paper and walked into the living room. I read the words over and over, but nothing would stick in my brain. Just the phrases: arrested and insider trading. Blood rushed through my ears. It became hard to stand.

  With the paper in hand, I walked to Lana’s bedroom. I knocked a few times. No one opened the door. I grew impatient and walked in. Her bed was made. The lights were turned off and there was no Lana.

  I stood there completely stunned before I ran out of the room, changed my shirt, snatched up my keys and left the apartment.

  I called Max. All my calls went straight to voicemail.

  In a desperate attempt to prove the newspaper wrong, I drove to his house. I didn’t even bother pulling into his driveway. I just pressed the brakes and peered through the passenger side window. There were cars parked that I’d never seen there. Maybe his parents?

  There was no point stopping by if he wasn’t there, and I knew he wasn’t.

  I drove to Lana’s parents’ house next.

  If Lana knew what’d happened to Max, and I think she did, then she would be here. She would retreat back into her parents’ hold. Partially out of fear and to be reassured that everything could be smoothed over if she came back.

  I sat in my car, parked in their driveway. The newspaper sat in the passenger seat, like an ominous being, waiting to attack. The sun had risen, but clouds had moved in, creating a gray veil over McLean.

  The longer I sat here, doing nothing, the more time was wasted. What was I waiting for? I snatched up the newspaper and scanned the front page.

  The short version?

  Max was accused of insider trading for six of his clients. None of those clients’ names were listed. The article didn’t say the proof they had or the person behind the accusations. But at the very end it said that anyone accused of insider trading could face up to 20 years behind bars and a ridiculous amount of fines.

  This entire story was cloaked in mystery. None of it was true. I knew that. I knew that Max was smart enough not to go down the road of insider trading, but not everyone else would. Even if the charges were dropped, it didn’t matter because it would blow up into this huge scandal that would ruin Max and his family’s company.

  Lana’s dad had a hand behind this. I was positive.

  With the paper in my hands, I got out of my car. I had no idea what the hell I was going to do. I just knew I had to something.

  I barely thought twice about barging into Lana’s family’s house. There were voices coming from the kitchen and upstairs. They soundproofed my entrance well enough that Lana and her mom didn’t look up when I walked in. They were in the formal living room. Lana was sitting on the couch and her mom was sitting across from her in the Louis XV armchair. Her mom’s back was straight; her feet leaned to the right with one tucked behind the other. Lana had her hands on her lap. Her right knee wouldn’t stop bobbing.

  I slid into the dining room, opposite of the formal living room.

  Neither one said a word. Her mom reached for her coffee on the polished table in front of her. She held the saucer and stirred the spoon slowly, staring down at the liquid. Lana watched her with a nervous look in her eyes.

  “Stop moving,” her mom lashed out.

  Lana stilled.

  Her mom took a sip of her coffee before she placed it back on the table. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Her fingers curled around the edges of the arm of the chair. She looked regal and proud, like a queen sitting on her throne, knowing that no one would speak or move until she moved first.

  Her mom cleared her throat and looked at her only child. “You know your dad didn’t want to have to do this.”

  “But he did.”

  Her mom’s eyes narrowed as she leaned close. “And do you know why? You fabricated a lie. The only reason this boy is in the position he’s in right now is because of you. No one else but you.”

  “I didn’t fabricate anything!”

  Her mom laughed mockingly. “Of course you didn’t.”

  Lana ignored her mom’s words. “He was just trying to help me.”

  “But you’re lying,” her mom said vehemently. “You’ve always imagined things that were never there.”

  A wounded look crossed Lana’s face. Her leg started to bobble again. “You know Dad did it. I know you do.”

  Her mom didn’t say a word. She just sat there, staring at Lana with an unreadable expression.

  Lana stood up and walked around the coffee table. “I can never understand why you avoided what’s been going on. Or how you can sweep it all under the rug, trying to pretend that nothing is wrong. How could you ignore me when I needed you the most?”

  “Enough!” Lana’s mom lashed out. She quickly stood. I could see her hands shaking with anger.

  It would only take three steps for her mom to walk forward and embrace her. But Lana’s mom treated the space between them as if it were miles. As long as Lana lived, her mom would never be the one to take that step forward.

  “Accept your life,” her mom said.

  “What?”

  Her mom lifted her chin. “Do not play the victim and sit here with that pitiful look on your face, hoping that someone will feel sorry for you. You have to accept this life you have.”

  “What kind of life is this?” Lana whispered.

  Her words were pointless. She was just talking to her mom’s back. Lana stood in the room alone. Her mom entered the foyer, humming a pretty tune. A maid walked up to her with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Lana’s mom smiled brilliantly, and bent her face to smell them.

  “They are beautiful,” she said approvingly. “Just beautiful.”

  With a pat on the maid’s shoulder, she continued to walk down the hall, her heels echoing loudly.

  I turned back to Lana. She stared in my direction for a moment. It took her awhile to notice I was staring back at her.

  She blinked furiously before she hurried across the foyer.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  I pulled out the paper and held it in between us. She didn’t grab for it. Just stared at Max’s face with blank eyes.

  “You know already, don’t you?”

  She looked down the hall for a second before she nudged her head at the front door. “Outside?”

  I nodded and followed behind her. The door shut with a firm click. Instead of diving right into the conversation, Lana sighed and sat on the top step, staring at the long, winding driveway with a contemplative expression.

  “I found out last night,” Lana said. “You were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you. You needed a break from everything. I came back home to find out what was going on.”

  “Why… why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “Because you need a break from everything. Look at what this has done to your life. Your entire summer went to shit.”

  “You think that’s your fault?”

  “I know it is. Just like you think it’s your job to be there for me. It’s my job to protect you from my life.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Everything is ruined,” she whispered brokenly.

  It was like she couldn’t even hear me.

  A chill went down my spine.

  “No, it’s not. The charges will be dropped and everything will smooth itself back out.”


  “Can you stop?” Lana exploded. I pulled away. She laughed sadly and stared down at the grass. “You heard my mom back there. None of this would’ve happened to Max if I hadn’t been involved!”

  “Your mom is also the same person that chooses to believe her husband over her daughter. Don’t listen to her. She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

  Lana hugged her knees close to her chest. There was a defeated look in her eye. It was the same one she had the night I found her in the barn.

  “You’re not moving back home, are you?” I said with alarm.

  She didn’t say a word. I had my answer.

  “You’re not going to do that.” I grabbed onto her arm, my grip tight. “You’re going to go back to your apartment. You know why?”

  She looked over at me; her eyes were glassy.

  “Because you’ve made so much progress.” I smiled encouragingly. “Come on, Lana. You have your own apartment. Your very own that allows you to come and go as you please! You’re creating a life built around your own choices. Last year, would you have been able to do that?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “You think you have to move back because everything feels so hopeless right now, and you don’t think you can be on your own, but you can.”

  I stood up and held out my hand. “What do you say? Are you ready to go back home?”

  “Yeah.” She took my hand. “I’ll do it.”

  “What will happen to Max?” she asked me as we got inside the car.

  I stared at the steering wheel. “He’ll get out on bail. The charges will be dropped and everything will be okay again. I promise.”

  Lana looked at me doubtfully. And could I blame her? I didn’t believe myself.

  “We can stop there for today.”

  I look at Dr. Rutledge. My pulse hammers against my skin. My voice is starting to shake as I further explain my story.

  Instead of asking me questions, Dr. Rutledge doesn’t say a thing. She sits back in her chair, her pen tapping against her notebook.

  She sits up straight and laces her fingers together. “You know what I think?”

  “What?” I ask wearily.

  “I think you should take a weekend pass.”

  “A weekend pass,” I repeat.

  “I know these sessions have been wearing you down, but you’re making significant improvement. I think a weekend pass would be beneficial for you.”

  When Lachlan first mentioned the idea of a weekend pass, I didn’t store too much faith in the idea. And when I broke down in group therapy, I thought my chances of ever having my freedom had disintegrated into thin air. But, here I am, given a chance to have my freedom. Even if it does have an expiration date.

  I stare at her skeptically. It feels like there’s a catch that comes along with this opportunity.

  “Would you like that?”

  I nod. “Y-yes!” I stutter.

  “If you don’t think you’re ready for it, you don’t have to take it.”

  “I am,” I say quickly. “I am. I’m just skeptical.”

  “There’s nothing to be skeptical about. Everyone needs a break.” She shrugs. “This is your break.”

  I exhale loudly. “I’ll do it.”

  “Great!” she says triumphantly as she stands up. “Mary will help you pack your bag tomorrow and you can be on your way.”

  One small, but very important factor, finally hit me. “Who’s picking me up?” I ask.

  “Lachlan.”

  My fears slam into me swiftly. I can picture Dr. Rutledge talking to Lachlan, telling him that I truly am insane and that I will never get out of this place. Even though Dr. Rutledge has proven herself to me, it doesn’t matter when old insecurities never die.

  I think she sees the fear in my eyes. She lays a hand on my shoulder and looks at me with concern.

  “I’ve spoken to him once,” she says gently. “He spoke to me last week about a weekend pass, and that’s it. You have nothing to worry about.”

  I swallow. “Thanks,” I whisper.

  “Now,” she grins, “get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day.”

  The next evening, I’m walking down the hall with my overnight bag in hand. Mary is right next to me; Lachlan is in front of me. His back is facing me and he’s talking to Dr. Rutledge.

  I revert back to teenage Naomi. The one that turns red around him. Whose lips split into a ridiculously bright smile while her heart flips wildly in her chest.

  Dr. Rutledge looks over Lachlan’s shoulder at me. Her brows lift and she smiles. “Good morning, Naomi.”

  Lachlan turns and looks at me. He gives me a one-sided grin. I think my heart just dropped down to my stomach.

  He’s dressed in a simple pair of jeans, dark blue shirt and a brown jacket. He looks so relaxed and at ease. He’s never looked sexier. “Look at you,” he says and reaches to take my bag.

  “I know. Can you believe it?” I lift up my foot. “I have laces on my shoes.”

  Mary actually laughs. Holy shit. Who knew she had a drop of humor inside of her. But in all seriousness, putting on clothes—that weren’t sweats—and wearing shoes, makes me feel as if a piece of myself is clicking right back into place.

  Lachlan’s grin stays in place as his eyes sweep me from head to toe. There’s a heavy sense of anticipation in my stomach because the minute we walked out the front doors he would be all mine. There would be no nurses checking up on us, or telling him that it was time to go.

  I pull my eyes away from him and glance at Dr. Rutledge. “Am I good to go?”

  She holds a clipboard between us. “You just have to sign off on a few papers.” She puts it on the counter next to me and hands me a pen.

  I scan the contents on the page quickly. It’s basically a sign out form saying that I, as the patient, or the guardian of the patient, understand what a weekend pass entails.

  I glance at Dr. Rutledge. “I don’t need my parents’ signature?”

  She clears her throat and looks over my shoulder at the paperwork. “No. It’s a weekend pass,” she says quietly. “I just need your signature.”

  I wasn’t going to challenge her. I quickly scribble my name on the bottom of the paper and step back. I shift my feet and stare at Dr. Rutledge.

  “That’s it,” she says happily. “Have a fun weekend, Naomi.” Lachlan and I walk out the door. I take a deep breath of the fresh air. I scan the cars in the parking lot. There are high piles of snow in the corner of the parking lot from the snowplow. Salt is peppered along the sidewalk to prevent falling. And I’m glad, because today I’m so excited and anxious to get out of here I would’ve run ahead to Lachlan’s car and busted my ass.

  I put one foot in front of the other, reminding myself that I need to look like a normal person. One that walks outside and interacts with people in the real world daily. I look over at Lachlan. His walk is confident. Shoulders straight. Chin slightly lifted, daring anyone to step in his way.

  When I get into his car I breathe into my hands as we wait for the car to warm up. Lachlan places a warm hand on my thigh and smiles at me. “Are you ready?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good,” he says and pulls out of the parking spot. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  He pulls out onto the road and presses the gas.

  The temptation to turn in my seat and wave at Fairfax is strong, but if I do, my gaze will wander to the ghost of myself staring longingly outside, putting another tally on the window. So I stare straight ahead as the dry, frozen over grass flies past us.

  “You might as well relax; it’s a two-hour drive to my house,” Lachlan says.

  “How do you expect me to relax?” I wave my hand around. “I haven’t been in a car in months. I need to take everything in! Today’s been pure torture. I sat in the rec room the whole day, staring at the clock.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, there’s a pile of paperwork on my desk because I couldn’t concentrate. I ended up leaving
work an hour early.” Lachlan gives me such a raw, personal smile, I almost clutch my chest in pain. “But if you want to keep looking around, then by all means… don’t let me interrupt.”

  “Nah.” I shift in my seat. “Tell me about your house.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What’s it like?”

  He shrugs. “It’s a house.”

  “Come on,” I coax. “Give me your best description.”

  “It’s small. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. There’s a small kitchen and living room. The carpet is outdated, along with the appliances, but I like it.”

  “Did you decorate?”

  He gives me a look that says, ‘What do you think?’

  I grin and watch as dusk paints the sky.

  We take the highway, bypassing McLean. I watch my hometown fly past me from my window and it looks like a blur of lights. I should probably feel some pull to the town I grew up in, but I don’t. The only pull that I have is the memories with Lana. Those memories tug at my heart, screaming at me that Lana is out there. Maybe not in McLean, but somewhere close.

  We turn here and there and the two-hour drive flies by and soon we’re driving into the outskirts of Charlottesville. We stop by a fast food restaurant and order greasy food that makes my stomach rumble.

  “We’re almost there,” Lachlan says.

  “It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’m having fun.”

  “Just sitting in a car?”

  I shrug and sneak a few French fries. “I’m getting a glimpse at your new life in this town.”

  “I’m still adjusting,” Lachlan admits. “But it’s nice having no one know your name.” He looks over at me. “You’d love it.”

  “If I ever get out of Fairfax,” I murmur.

  “You will,” Lachlan says firmly.

  We drive out of the city. Cars start to become sparse and the road becomes smaller and more compact. Lachlan has to slow down to avoid the potholes. Excitement courses through my veins when Lachlan pulls onto a gravel driveway. It started to snow when we left Charlottesville. The headlights illuminate the frozen grains, making them look like millions of snowflakes dancing in the air.