Something in the Water

by Teresa Mummert

  “Weird how? Like kills puppies weird or tucks his jeans into his socks weird?”

  “No, like... mysterious.”

  “Oh, so he’s hot?” She asked, and I almost choked on my own spit.

  “I didn’t say that,” I shot back a little too defensively.

  “Emery, you like a real, live boy. And to think, all this time I thought you were in love with me.”

  “Ugh, come on. You think everyone is in love with you. I can do better than that.”

  Bridget laughed loudly in my ear. “Touché. But come on, you can’t blame me. Marcus was pining over you for years, and you barely gave him a second look. So tell me about this guy. Does he sparkle?”

  I cringed as I bit back my retort. Bridget could never understand my love for reading, so naturally, she found my obsession with male book characters to be a little crazy. “Marcus never liked me, Bridget. For the last time, you’re focusing on the wrong details of that story. If you would just read the book,” I groaned before dipping my head below the window ledge with a squeal when I noticed Ford glancing this way.

  “Why would I read the book when I can watch the movie?”

  “We can’t be friends anymore,” I deadpanned.

  “Fine,” she groaned in my ear. “I’m coming over. If you are going to face plant in front of some hottie, I want to be there to point and laugh.”

  “You’re leaving your house?” I asked in disbelief.

  “If this guy turns out to be a murderer, someone has to give his description to the police. Besides, you’re my friend, and you need me. I like to be needed. I’m selfish like that.”

  “Don’t I know it.” I clicked to end the call and tossed the phone on my bed before looking across the street, but Ford was gone. “Dang,” I whisper-yelled before screaming as my bedroom door opened behind me, bouncing off the wall.

  “Seriously, Emery. You need to get out of the house more,” My brother propped himself against the door frame with his shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “And you need to learn how to knock!”

  “And wait to hear you say come in?” He stared at me for a moment before he pointed to his ear and what he meant finally clicked.

  “Or wait for me to answer it.” Bringing my hand toward my mouth, I touched my fingertips together to sign for him to shut up, but he only laughed, shaking his head.

  “Why do you want to go to the mall?” He asked, his eyebrow raised in suspicion.

  “I just want to get some new clothes for school,” I struggled to keep my tone even but judging by the look on my brother’s face, I knew I had failed at my attempted lie.

  “I don’t even have to be able to hear you to be able to listen. The truth is written all over your nervous face. At this rate, you won’t have any fun before college.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why are you so concerned about what I do anyway?”

  “I’m your big brother.”

  I exhaled an exaggerated groan as I pushed from my floor, brushing off my bottom even though I knew my carpet was spotless. I jerked my head to motion over my shoulder. My brother hurried across the room and gently shoved me out of the way as his eyes narrowed.

  “Wait... you like Daven?” He turned toward me, his face scrunched up in confusion. Shrugging my shoulders, I dropped my gaze, feeling like a fool. “I thought you and Bridget had a thing.”

  “Wait... what? No, not Daven, you dunce. He’s like... elderly. His nephew.”

  Laughter burst from him, and I grabbed my pillow, slamming it against his chest and causing him to stumble back into the window. Lurching forward, I grabbed his arm to pull him back before he fell through the glass.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Why not?” He asked, jerking his arm from my grip before running his hand through his dark hair to smooth it back into place. “Bridget is cute.”

  “I am cute,” Bridget said with an amused smirk as she stepped into my room. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my pillow from the floor and tossed it back to my bed.

  “You could learn to knock,” I groaned.

  “And miss out on your sexy brother talking about me?” Her eyebrow rose as she ran her tongue out over her lips.

  “You’re not his type.”

  “I’m everybody’s type,” she shrugged, dropping her purse to the floor, unfazed. Bridget knew all about my brother’s tumultuous relationship with Danny.

  “Bless your heart.”

  “So where is this super-hot guy you’ve been drooling over?”

  “I need your dirty laundry if you want to have anything to wear this week,” My mom yelled from downstairs. Her voice was muffled by the sound of our robot vacuum as it bounced off the kitchen cabinets. I rolled my eyes, hoping she’d just leave me alone. “Emery Layne, do you hear me?”

  “Be right back,” I sighed dramatically as I grabbed the overflowing wicker basket of laundry I had already gathered and sat by my bedroom door.

  “Coming,” I trudged down the wooden steps to the first floor of our home and dropped the basket at my mother’s feet. She gave me a hard stare, scrutinizing my makeup before she picked it up and dumped it into her brand new front-load washing machine. It was top of the line and even had a small LCD screen built into the front of it. Nothing was too good for mom and Sutton... or good enough.

  “What have you been doing up there?”

  “Reading Romeo and Juliet. It’s going to be a required read this year.”

  “Glad to see you are taking it seriously, although it is kind of late in the summer to try to get a head start.” She ran a free hand through her long, chestnut-brown hair with hints of auburn that was now identical to mine. I rolled my eyes at her thinly veiled insult as she pressed the empty basket against my stomach. I took it with a groan of annoyance.

  “I’m trying momma. We can’t all be like Eli.”

  “I don’t want you to be like Eli. God knows he has his own problems. I just want you to care about your future.” Her gaze dropped to the basket in my hands. Momma didn’t care about my education, she cared about appearances. God forbid someone thinks her little girl was anything but perfect. “You’re gonna make some man very happy one day.”

  “What if I just wanna make myself happy, momma. What’s so wrong with that?”

  “You don’t want a family?” She drew back, her face screwed up in disgust.

  “I already had a family,” I reminded her, my voice thick and shaky as I thought of my father. She ignored me because it was easier for her to pretend that she hadn’t caused all of this; the mess I’d become.

  Nevertheless, her argument was never changing, and I’d grown exhausted trying to defend myself. “I’m just sayin’ it’s too early to think about all that. God. Momma, sometimes I think you just can’t wait to get rid of me.”

  “Emery Layne, watch your tone,” My mother’s jade eyes narrowed as she put her hands on her wide hips. “You kids think you know everything,” she mumbled.

  I bit my tongue. The last thing I needed was to be grounded on top of it all even though that only meant I’d lose access to the internet and my eReader would be held hostage. I rarely left the house on my own, and if I did, it was to take a bike ride. My cruiser had to be at least twenty years old, with an elongated banana seat and pretty peach streamers that blew back in the wind.

  But with school fast approaching, I was desperate to come out of my shell and mingle with my peers in hopes of making some lasting memories. Maybe even make a few friends. Right now the only person who didn’t gag when they saw me coming, was in my room hitting on my gay big brother as we speak.

  Just the thought alone of socializing made my heart palpitate. I always fumbled over my words when I tried to talk to others, tripping over my own rambling thoughts.

  Being treated as if I didn’t exist was a far worse punishment than taunts and teases. Sticks and stones, they say, break your bones and words can never hurt you. But silence has become deafening and living inside of my own
head has been my personal prison filled with self-doubt and loneliness. I’d become exhausted from trying so damn hard. Now I was exhausted and heavily medicated. It didn’t help.

  But no matter how loudly society screamed that something was wrong with me, I knew I wasn’t the problem. Not really. It was them. The ones who looked the other way, who whispered lies to make their own mundane existence seem exciting.

  5

  FORD

  August 6, 2018

  My hand moved furiously across the page as I unleashed everything I had felt since my trip began. A cigarette hung from my lips, and smoke billowed, obscuring my vision as the pen sliced holes in the paper, smudging ink on my fingertips. I was high, head spinning and veins pulsing.

  June 3, 2017

  The words rolled over again and again in my head, but I couldn’t process them.

  “She’s gone, Ford.”

  My eyes flicked to the doorway, thinking she had just gone out for a walk and would be stepping in at any moment, her infectious laughter filling the air and my heart once more.

  But as I waited, my feet locked into place as the rest of me swayed in dizzying panic, I knew that she was no longer here. I could feel it... or not feel it anymore as it may be. My chest was now a cavernous hole as numbness settled in the depths of my core.

  My hands moved on their own accord sending glass raining in violent crashes as her name ripped painfully from my throat. I screamed until my voice cracked and wavered, overtaken by sobs. My vision was next to go, blurred and stinging by tears as her image was forever washed in pain.

  “She’s gone,” a voice echoed.

  My body was overcome with exhaustion. My knees hit the wooden floor with a jolting thud, pain shooting up my thighs and radiating throughout my chest as I let my palms slap against the ground, my head hanging in defeat. I mumbled an incoherent prayer hoping someone, anyone was listening, but I was met with deafening silence. My faith was last to go.

  Some would say I was too young to comprehend the gravity of such loss; that my heart was somehow less mature. But this crippling hurt was something I understood all too well. Society’s arbitrary rules as to what constituted adult or youth had no bearing on what I felt inside.

  Love is lawless.

  Life is temporary.

  August 6, 2018

  “You hungry?” Daven called from the living room where he was perched in front of the television once again. It was safe to assume this was the extent of his social life, living vicariously through fictional characters. Ashes fell on the notebook below as I pulled the cigarette from my mouth to respond.

  “In a minute,” I called out as I pushed open the bedroom window, tossing the butt onto the ground outside before waving my hand in front of my face to disperse some of the smoke. I hoped the cigarette was enough to cover the dank smell of the weed. My skin was sticky from a thin sheen of sweat due to the oppressive fucking heat that pressed against my lungs, keeping me from inhaling fully.

  My eyes danced over the scribbles and scratches I’d written, bleeding onto the page. If dying of a broken heart were possible, I would find my demise soon in her memories.

  “Her soul, like sand, slipping through rough fingers,” I sang quietly to myself as I ripped the paper from the book and crumbled it in my palm. My throat tightened and began to close, but I finished the line. “Fading from demand, but her memory still lingers.”

  I shoved the notebook under my pillow and tossed the crumpled paper to the floor before leaving the room, wishing the ghosts of my past would remain behind as well, offering a few moments of peace.

  The happy memories were now tainted with pain, and I was no longer able to separate the two. My fingers began to flex as I thought about grabbing my acoustic guitar from my trunk and turning my jotted down rage into a full-length song. But since I’d lost Taylor, it killed me to think about playing it again without her by my side, humming along and swaying as I strummed. Sandy toes and sea salt laced kisses were some of my favorite memories of her. I couldn’t lose those too.

  I stood in the narrow hallway and watched Daven for a moment. He was lost in the television show playing and oblivious to my presence. You could see the sadness in the worry lines that had begun to mar the edges of his eyes. He was much younger than my mother, around thirty years old, but had lived a hard existence. My mother had her share of pain as well, but persevered and overcame her demons. Daven had all but given up, and I wasn’t sure if she sent me here to help me or for me to help him. One thing was sure, if I weren't careful, we would drag each other down.

  I needed to get out of here. There had to be something going on in town tonight. I cringed, thinking about Daven giving me shit about how I wasn’t acting responsibly, and I needed to get on a schedule for school. My mind drifted to the weirdo across the street that he had brought up more than once when talking about how I was supposed to act.

  Why the hell would I want to stay locked away all day, watching everyone else live while my life passed me by? Maybe I could help us both out. She definitely needed to get out more, and I could use an escape without having my motives questioned.

  “What’s the name of that girl you wanted me to take to the mall?” I asked over the sound of canned laughter, scratching the back of my head nervously.

  “Mais la!” Daven pushed from his seat, his eyes widening before his grin spread. “That chere 'tite fille is Emery Elliot. Not born on the bayou but I guess that Yankee blood is more your type now,” he teased with a wink.

  “I’m not looking to date anyone. I just want to have someone to talk to.”

  He cringed, and I regretted my word choice, but I wasn’t ready to open up to family yet. I wasn’t prepared to open up to anyone. I wanted a chance to just hang out and not deal with my demons for one day. “Baby steps.”

  “Besides, she’s not from the North. She’s from Georgia.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied my expression. “How do you know that?”

  “The peach magnet on the back of her mom’s car. Not that hard to figure out if you pay attention.”

  He nodded before walking past me and into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge.

  I hesitated before following him. “I’m serious.”

  “F’ sho,’” he replied with a laugh in his voice that pissed me off. I clenched my jaw, swallowing back my frustration. It didn’t take much for my temper to get out of control, and it terrified me that it was one of the qualities I’d inherited from my dad. It was one of the reasons I was no longer living with my mom. I couldn’t subject her to that again. And even though it broke her heart when I walked out of that door one last time, I refused to look back.

  “Just forget it,” I waved him away as I stormed off toward my room. I listened as the fridge slammed behind me, and heavy footsteps approached me from behind.

  “What is it wit’ you? I am just trying to get to know you, ya’.”

  “Maybe I’m not looking to make friends,” I snapped as I paced the floor. I had no clue what it is I wanted, but it clawed at my veins like an addict needing a fix.

  “Then don’t.” He threw up his hands, exasperated, but his voice was calm. “This is your life, Ford. I’m not trying to live it for you. I just want you to be happy.”

  “Happy?” I snorted as my eyes narrowed in anger. “You didn’t seem to give a shit about my happiness when I was growing up. Now all of a sudden, you want to interfere? Guilty conscious?”

  “Ford, we all made mistakes.”

  “Mistakes? Is that what you call letting my mom get the shit beat out of her for years? What about me, huh? Was me getting tossed around the mistake, or was it me ever being born?” My voice echoed off the walls in the sparsely decorated space. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized any reflection of his short life of his wife was missing. Only that dusty crib remained giving any hint to the turmoil that he’d experienced. He may not have left home, but he had been running from his past, just like I had. The difference bet
ween us was that I was willing to face down my demons. I wanted to look my father in the eye and have him beg me for mercy.

  Daven shook his head, his eyes glossed over in regret, but he did not back down. “If I could go back and change what happened to you, to your momma, I would. I will never forgive myself for that.”

  “Good,” I nodded, my anger coursing through my veins like wildfire. “Because I won’t ever forgive you for that either.”

  “I did my best.”

  “You did nothing,” I seethed, my fists clenched at my sides.

  My shoulder shoved against my uncle’s, causing him to stumble, as I walked by him and out of the front door. I slammed it so hard behind me the walls shook and my eyes locked on to that second story window across the street.

  I glared up at the curtain, my hands clenched tightly at my sides as I watched the swath of fabric slowly move away. I took in the silhouette of Emery, the girl whose gaze had been watching me since I came to town. I’d never met her, but I’d been curious as to why she never seemed to step foot off their property. Her thin arm raised beside her and she waved before I yanked open my driver door and got in my car, fighting the urge to flip her off. Her mysterious existence pissed me off as much as it piqued my curiosity. What kind of life was that anyway? What was the point of being locked away? Sure she was safe, but she wasn’t actually enjoying life. It pissed me off that I had so much pain and anguish and others got to hide behind that thin curtain, oblivious to the suffering of others. I wanted to rip her from her gilded cage and force the world onto her just to watch her crumble. Misery loves company, and I was nothing if not lonely.

  The sun had sunk down in the sky behind the houses but the heat of the day still lingered in the air, suffocatingly oppressive. The vinyl of my seat slid against the slicked flesh of my arms as I shoved my key into the ignition and revved it to life.

  I couldn’t get out of the small development fast enough and onto the highway. I didn’t care where I ended up as long as I could escape my past, even if just for a few hours.

  Hell, by the end of the night, I wanted to forget who I was.