Unveiling Hope

by Jeannine Allison

  Her eyes widened, and something that looked a lot like sadness flashed in her eyes. “John couldn’t make it. Something came up.”

  “Ah.” I gritted my teeth against his name. It hadn’t gotten easier since I’d first heard it months ago. There was an ever-present ache when I thought of the fact that Sam had a boyfriend. Part of me thought—hoped—they would break up with her moving back. But that was a selfish wish. Gabe said he was a good guy and Sam seemed happy.

  “How about you?” she asked. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Regularly? Nope.”

  She paused, looking uncomfortable, and I realized how that sounded, like I was casually seeing someone… or someones. The question was easy to see in Sam’s eyes, but she didn’t voice it. I could leave her with that assumption, let her think I wasn’t pining for something I couldn’t have. It was probably just her curiosity anyways. She had her boyfriend; why would my sexual activities matter? Despite all that, I didn’t want to leave that misunderstanding between us.

  “I’ve been on a couple dates. None recently, and nothing ever came of them.”

  “Oh. Well you’ll get to meet John in a couple weeks. He’s planning to fly out.”

  Suddenly my food wasn’t as appealing.

  I forced a smile and said the only thing I could: “Can’t wait.”

  THERE WERE CERTAIN THINGS from childhood that just stood out. Maybe it was the fifth birthday when you finally got the toy you’d always wanted. Or in kindergarten when you made your first friend. Or you got your license. Or your first trip without your parents.

  The list was endless.

  But I also believed there were phrases—a handful of words you remember your parents saying. Words they may not even recall. Words that changed you, words that brought you to where you were today. Words you still lived by, still agonized over.

  The words I got?

  Look pretty. Stay quiet.

  Courtesy of my father.

  He was all about appearances. My mother less so. Like, not at all, really. It still amazed me that they ended up together.

  The first time I heard those words, I was six. I ran into my father’s den, screaming about something—the what I could never remember. He had been on a conference call, and while he laughed it off with his coworkers (who really didn’t seem to care), his eyes told me the truth: he was furious.

  Sending me to my room would be pretty pointless since it housed all my books and my tea set; I would have been perfectly content there. So he sent me to the guest bedroom, which held nothing but a plain bed and an empty dresser. When he came in to talk to me an hour later, he said those words for the first time.

  Look pretty. Stay quiet.

  “That’s your job, Sam. To look pretty and stay quiet.”

  He hadn’t said them in years, but once was enough. They still haunted me. Clung to my skin. Got twisted in my head when I thought about speaking up for myself.

  And now the result was that I didn’t know who I was. Did I like the things I liked because I genuinely enjoyed them? Or was it because I had been told to? Because it was all I’d known? All I’d let myself know?

  The idea that I could do anything I wanted was both thrilling and terrifying. I hated feeling like I was lost, but it was better than following someone else’s path.

  I needed to see this for the blessing it was. This was an opportunity. I was finally free to find out exactly who I was.

  Today was the start of that discovery.

  My stomach growled as I finished getting ready. I’d been living with Derek for just over a week, and I still couldn’t leave my room without being fully dressed and made up. Derek had never seen me without makeup or with bedhead. He hadn’t seen me in ratty pajamas or with eye crusties.

  I knew it was unrealistic to think it could stay that way, but I was determined to keep it that way for as long as possible.

  Ten minutes later I stepped out and found Derek eating a Rice Krispies treat. When I gave him a funny look he shrugged and mumbled, “What?” around a mouthful.

  “That’s your breakfast?”

  “Hey.” He finished chewing before clearing his throat and saying, “It counts. There’s a cereal for it.”

  Laughing, I shook my head. “I see the lawyering skill runs in your family,” I said, referencing Naomi’s passion for law. She was currently in her second year of law school.

  After grabbing a bottle of water and a banana, I picked up my purse and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Where you headed?” he asked.

  “Job hunting.”

  Derek scrunched up his face in obvious disdain. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  I shut and locked the door before making the quick ten-minute walk to the main strip, where Pick Your Poison was located, right next to Carillo University. I laughed when I remembered Gabe’s words from a couple weeks ago. Like brother, like sister. I imagined he did this exact thing before stumbling into the bar where he now worked. The same bar as Derek.

  An hour later, my feet slowed to a stop. I’d already applied for six jobs. None of which I was too thrilled about.

  But this wasn’t a job listing that caught my eye. It was a contest. It was small, but it’d be a start. I reached out and plucked a flyer from the stack below while I read.

  Mike’s Music Presents

  Battle of the Bands!

  Auditions will be held December 5th, 2018

  The top five (selected by Mike’s employees) will perform live at the Carillo State Fair in February 2019.

  The winner will be determined by the audience.

  Cash prize: $1,000

  My eyes briefly scanned over some of the fine print, but I was too excited to completely focus. I knew what my dad would say, that the monetary value was too little to be of consequence. But it wasn’t about the money. It was about something so much more important. Something that felt like do-or-die.

  I was nineteen years old, and presumably had my whole life ahead of me, and yet this contest felt like my one chance to recover what I thought I’d lost. My music. Something I’d rarely thought about because it reminded me too much of my mom.

  I’d never had a reason to start again, but this could be my reason.

  Feeling rejuvenated, I shoved the flyer in my purse and continued my job search. A few stores later I was in front of Caffeine IV. I’d only been here a handful of times, but I knew it was Alara’s favorite coffee spot. She’d been coming here ever since her senior year in high school, usually a few times a week. And for an introvert like Alara, that was a pretty big deal.

  I was instantly greeted by the rich aroma of strong coffee and baked goods. The line was six-people deep and almost two-thirds of the tables were occupied. My eyes moved around the shop until I was called forward.

  “It’s pretty busy,” I quietly observed before looking back at the line.

  “I’ve worked in a few coffee shops in my time, and there is no slow time on a college campus.” The older woman winked. “What can I get ya, sweetie?”

  “Well—” I paused to look down at her name tag. “Kath, I was wondering if there was any chance you were hiring?”

  I held my breath, waiting for the laugh or looks of pity I’d gotten elsewhere. Apparently it was extremely funny to be looking for a job after the semester had already started.

  She looked at the people behind me before calling someone else over. “Could you take over the register? I’ll finish those dishes later.”

  The girl smiled and nodded as Kath waved me down toward the drink pick-up area.

  A boy who was cleaning a table nearby scurried over to lift the counter up so Kath could exit. Grinning, she gave him an affectionate pat on the chest. “Poor boy thinks I’m too weak to lift it.”

  “Not at all, ma’am. It’s just good manners.”

  With a chuckle, she guided me to the recently cleaned table.

  “I helped my father on our farm unti
l I was sixteen. And then I was a nurse for thirty-four years. Ain’t no one stronger.” She squinted. “You look familiar. Do you come in often?”

  I shook my head. “Only a couple of times. But my brother’s girlfriend loves it here. A—”

  “Alara!” she shouted, uncaring how loud she was or that several heads turned our way. “Yes, yes. I remember now. And you say you want a job?”

  “If you’re hiring—”

  “I do what I want when I want to. And I’d love to hire you, sweetie.” She winked again. “We could always use more help. Especially with school starting up again.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Let me get the papers.”

  I watched Kath walk back behind the counter and disappear down a hallway. A few minutes later she was back holding a uniform and some forms. She told me to come back in two days at noon so we could get started.

  She said a lot more too. I remembered Alara told me she was a talker, which was how I ended up spending the next thirty minutes there, but I heard very little of what she said.

  All I could think about was this contest… and Derek. Other than with Derek, I hadn’t played any music since my mom died. Not in private. Not in front of others. I hadn’t wanted to. But now I did, and I needed him to do this with me.

  Sam seemed uncharacteristically nervous when she got home. She said hello, set her purse on the table, and took out a piece of paper.

  “How’d the job hunt go?” I asked, trying to piece together what could be wrong.

  “Great! I got a job at that coffee place Alara loves. Caffeine IV.”

  “That’s great news.” My wide smile dropped when she didn’t return one. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She shook her head, like she was snapping out of her thoughts. “I saw this flyer today,” she rushed out.

  “Okaaay?” I drew out the word, not at all sure where this was going.

  “It’s for a music contest.”

  I froze for a second before turning back toward the TV.

  “It’s not even a big deal. Just a local store trying to generate business. They’ll provide the equipment. Auditions are in December and then the finalists will play at the fair in February. I thought we could perform together.”

  “Does it need to be a duet?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then you don’t need me.” My tone brokered no argument. “There’s no reason—”

  “I’m scared.” Her voice was soft.

  I turned toward her again, taking in her slumped shoulders and worried brow. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth and her eyes pleaded with me. “Sam—”

  “I know we never talked about it before.”

  She was right. When we started playing before she left, no words were exchanged. I had been sitting in this apartment, right in this very spot on the couch, holding my guitar. It was my father’s birthday and somehow I found myself reminiscing about the past. That guitar hadn’t seen the outside of my closet in years, and yet something had me pulling it out that day.

  Sam walked in as my hand hovered over the strings. She was picking something up for Gabe and he’d given her his key. When she walked in and saw me sitting there, she saw something in my expression—I wasn’t sure what—that had her sitting beside me and putting her hand on my knee. There was nothing sexual in it, it was about comfort, about letting me know I wasn’t alone.

  And on that day I played for the first time in years.

  It became a regular thing. I played my guitar and sang. She played her keyboard. And I’d felt whole in a way I hadn’t in years. Then she left and took it all away. If she had been doing what was best for her that would be one thing, but she hadn’t been. She left to please her father—we all knew it. Apparently making him happy was more important than anyone or anything else.

  Now she wanted to act like none of that happened?

  “No,” I repeated, standing up from the couch.

  “But—”

  “Dammit, Sam,” I snapped. Grimacing, I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just can’t… okay? It was a mistake last year. That part of my life is over.” She stayed quiet. I had no clue what she was thinking, and I didn’t want to. With my eyes averted, I walked to the door. “I’m going out.”

  Fifteen minutes later I was still standing outside our apartment. I left with the intention of going to pick up a fight, but as soon as I got outside the desire completely vanished. I’d been trying to cut back and it had been going better than I thought.

  The only reason I started again after Sam left was because I didn’t have anything else to do. Gabe was with Alara, Naomi was with Damien, Sherry with Hunter, and I… I was alone. Fighting had been the only way I’d been able to feel anything. I never said anything to my friends because I knew it would worry them, and they never noticed the occasional bruise that I couldn’t hide.

  But now that Sam was back I didn’t feel so alone, and that was a dangerous idea to get trapped in. And I knew part of my fear was because I couldn’t afford to get as caught up in her as I did last time.

  I walked back inside and found the main area empty. Shuffling toward her door, I paused and listened but heard nothing. “Knock, knock,” I called out, pushing open the already slightly ajar door.

  Sam was sitting on her bed, holding her notebook. It was so worn that the once black exterior now looked gray. I didn’t know what was in there, but I got the impression it was extremely important to her.

  Rory, who was curled into a ball by her closet, lifted her head for a second when I walked in before going back to her nap. I sat on the bed next to Sam, watching her hands shake as she handed the notebook to me.

  I stared at her profile for a minute, but when she remained still and silent I realized nothing would happen until I read whatever it was she wanted me to see. Flipping the book open to where the ribbon was settled, I looked down at her neat handwriting and started reading.

  They asked me if I thought of you,

  As if I had a choice.

  Like there aren’t reminders everywhere,

  And I’m not haunted by your voice.

  I missed you whenever you weren’t near,

  So you can imagine how I feel now,

  Knowing you’ll never be back,

  And missing you is all my body will allow.

  I’ve asked many people,

  But no one seems to know,

  When the keeper of your heart dies,

  Where does your heart go?

  It’s not here with me,

  Did you take it with you?

  Is it covered in dirt,

  And six feet under too?

  The time for mourning has passed,

  And people expect me to be strong,

  Unaware of all the tears I cry,

  And how life without you seems wrong.

  You left with no warning,

  And I was never asked,

  If people knew the truth,

  They’d know I hide behind a mask.

  Hoping that one day I’ll believe it too,

  But deep down I know if I had any say,

  Whether it’s now or in twenty years,

  I’d give everything if it meant you never went away.

  Swallowing roughly, I set the notebook on the bed between us. Then I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees, my head hanging as I stared at the carpet.

  “Look pretty. Stay quiet.”

  “What?” I asked, my head turning her way.

  “Look pretty. Stay quiet,” she repeated on a whisper. “My father used to say that to me. He told me he wanted me at Dartmouth so I could get a good education, but I knew his real purpose. He wanted to marry me off. To find a man to take care of me. I went along with it. Gabe didn’t understand, but… he’s the only parent we have left. I didn’t want to lose him too.” She looked down. “I made the decision to come back to Carillo because I realized I’d already lost something else. Something far more important.”


  “What?” I asked softly.

  “Me,” she whispered, the syllable breaking in two. When she looked at me her eyes shimmered with tears. “If I give up who I am just to keep someone, what am I gaining? It’s a trade-off. And not even a good one because if there’s one person who you have to like and respect, it’s yourself.” Sam shook her head. “Gabe kept trying to explain that to me, but I didn’t get it. Not until I saw that flyer.”

  Standing up and walking to her dresser, she let out a shaky breath. Then she picked up a framed photograph of her and her mom. “I’m not living the life she wanted me to at all,” she said sadly, hanging her head.

  “That’s not true.” My voice was hard. “You’re kind and smart and—”

  Sam turned around and smiled, stopping me with a lifted hand. “I’m not talking about who I am. I’m talking about what I’m doing. Music was a big part of my life, and with her death I’ve let it slip away for no reason. And when I saw that flyer today… I can’t explain it, Derek. But it has to be now. I feel like I’ll lose it forever if I don’t do this. But I don’t know that I can do it alone.”

  Sam grabbed one of my hands and placed it on her chest, above her heart. My fingers unconsciously flexed against her softness. She swallowed roughly before softly admitting, “I’m scared, and I need you.”

  I looked down at my hand on her chest, covered by one of hers as the other still clutched her mom’s picture. Her heart was beating rapidly. And despite her nerves, I knew it was partly due to excitement.

  “Please.”

  And that sealed it. I couldn’t say no. Truthfully I never wanted to, but fear had a way of making decisions for you.

  I nodded, not looking at her. Sam immediately dropped my hand and threw her arms around my neck. I felt the cool metal of the picture frame through my shirt. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  My arms wound around her waist, lifting her against me.

  God.

  She has a boyfriend.