True Connection (The Soul Mate Series)

by Walter, Rachel

  Leland hit the ice harder and works out more often.

  And Henry, well, he’s probably the most normal. He cried, and he visits their graves frequently.

  Every day is a new challenge of coping with the reminders, the memories, and the changes, but I’m trying to be okay, for my family.

  It breaks my heart even more to see Mom like this every time we come. I feel tears prick in my eyes and I bite my cheek to keep from crying. I have to hold it together and stay strong for Mom.

  After a bit, I feel her shift. She wraps an arm around each of us, which is better than the last time we saw her - she didn’t look at us and only responded to yes or no questions.

  She takes the tissue from me and blows her nose.

  “You guys are so…good to me,” she chokes out. She takes a deep breath and looks at us again. “How’s the new school?”

  “Great,” Henry says, at the same time I say, “It’s school.”

  I’d rather not talk about school. In fact, I’d rather just forget today even happened.

  “Come on guys, give me somethin’. Henry, are you makin’ friends okay? Jazzy, Le said you’re takin’ another art class?”

  Henry looks uncomfortable at the mention of art class. But if he knows what’s good for him, he won’t bring up Derik. Mom doesn’t need to worry about some idiot at school.

  She looks at me expectantly, and I stop myself from rolling my eyes.

  “I’m painting the lake at Leland’s.” I smile, and she tries to return it. Another step forward.

  She looks to Henry and waits for him to answer her.

  “We both have a few new friends.” He shrugs. “It’s just different now, Mom. Football and volleyball are big at this school, too, and Lupiterra is Penn Wood’s biggest rival. It’s almost like we’re on enemy territory.” He shrugs again.

  I actually haven’t encountered this problem yet, but I’m not about to correct him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about what I’d be forcing y’ins to go through,” Mom says, using her Pittsbughese as she looks away from us. Dad used to try to make her say “ya’ll” instead of “y’ins,” but it never stuck. “I really hope you two can forgive me.” She takes a deep breath and looks back to the two of us. “I can’t afford to keep our house anymore. I’ve talked to Le already, and he agrees with me. We’re movin’ in with him and sellin’ our old house.” She eyes the both of us, probably trying to judge our reactions. Henry walks over to the window while I stare at my feet.

  I don’t want her to sell it. That’s our home! I bite my lip to stop from crying or yelling, or both.

  It’s not that I don’t love my uncle or Alex, but my home is where all the memories are. It’s the perfect house. The doorjamb in the dining room still has the color coded notches - showing our height since the three of us were toddlers.

  “Will one of you say something, please?” Mom asks, sounding tired.

  “Would it help if I got a job?” Henry asks. He doesn’t want to give up our home either, but his wanting a job surprises me.

  “Sweetie, if you want a job, the money you make will be yours. But it won’t change the decision to sell the house.” She sighs. “My therapist said I’m allowed to help this weekend for four hours on Saturday, and if I’m up for it, Sunday too. I can help decide what gets sold and what goes to storage,” she says quietly.

  My head snaps in her direction. “You’re selling things?”

  “Well, yeah, Sweetie. We’re going to have an auction. Some of the wives on Le’s team and colleagues from your father’s firm have offered to help out. Whatever money we make, I’ll split between y’ins. I want to make sure you still have the opportunities you had before…” her voice trails as she wipes at her eyes again.

  “We don’t care about the money, Mom,” Henry groans.

  She sits taller in her seat. “I need to make sure you’re going to be all right and this helps me to ensure that. I’m sorry guys. I know this is hard for you, but it’s hard for me, too. There are things I don’t want to part with, like the house. It was my dream home, but without your father, it felt like a prison. Living with your uncle will be great, and it will help him, too.”

  I know I should try to focus on the positives as well, but I can’t get past the fact that she’s just getting rid of everything that reminds her of what we lost.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I know this is hard for you,” Henry says and hugs her.

  “You’re awfully quiet, Princess. Are you okay?”

  I suck in a quick breath. She used Dad’s nickname for me.

  “Love you, Princess,” he used to say those words to me every single day, like he thought I’d forget. I’ll never forget.

  I bite my cheek and take a deep breath.

  “I’m f-fine Mama,” I say to my feet. I’ll lose my control over my emotions if I look at her, so I don’t.

  We stay for another half hour, and Henry does his best to keep the conversation light by telling her about the giant triplets and she seems to approve of them. Thankfully, Henry talks so much we don’t have time to talk about anything going on with me.

  The ride to our house is too quiet, even with the music up. I can’t keep the memories from crushing me. All the Christmases, birthday parties, sibling wars with Sophie, game nights with Uncle Leland and his teammates, and backyard barbeques play in my head like a movie reel. When I was younger, I always imagined bringing my future husband and kids back to this house for a weekend at Grammy & Grampy’s house.

  I blink rapidly to clear the tears from my vision and grip the arm rest, knuckles turning white while I work to rein in my emotions. I focus on the song that’s playing on the radio and sing it in my head.

  Focusing on the words and the beat from the bass, I slowly begin to breathe easier.

  ***

  When we pull up to the house, I sit and stare at the house I’ve always called home.

  I take a deep breath before exiting the car. Henry’s already standing by the door waiting for me and gives me a look that says he sees through my mask. I look away from him and refuse to make eye contact.

  Once we’re inside, Henry heads for Dad’s office while I take in the scent of home. A hint of cinnamon potpourri, pine, and a slight hint of saw dust and cleaning products.

  Home.

  I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, while trying to swallow the clawing emotions that are trying to escape. I walk through the living room to the kitchen, trying to ignore the visions of family movie nights.

  There’s a window above the sink that looks out over the back yard. I walk to it in a daze. Our old swing set is still back there. It’s rusty, but it still works. A smile spreads across my face as I remember when I was little, Dad would push me, and I could swear my feet were touching the sky.

  I quickly look away from the swings. I’m trying to stay detached because I can’t handle these memories or emotions yet. I don’t know where to put them, or how to process them.

  Scanning my eyes across the backyard, I pause at the white gazebo. Last spring, Mom had me help her plant flowers around it. She always picks out the ones that die off, never the ones that come back yearly. I smile, remembering how Sophie called me a “dirt merchant” because I, somehow, was covered in dirt. “You know you’re supposed to keep the dirt in the ground, not bathe in it,” she had teased me.

  Tears prick my eyes but I smile at the memory.

  I turn away from the window and kick the linoleum a few times before walking towards the dining room. I pause at the doorjamb, inspecting the notches. Mom would mark our heights with a pencil and Dad would use his pocket knife to score the wood. I trail my finger along marked wood, pausing on each colored notch, green for Henry, yellow for me, and pink for Sophie.

  I choke back a sob as I linger on a pink notch and my heart begins to crack again. I scrub my hands over my face and breathe through burying the emotions again.

  “Hey, you ready?” Henry asks.

  I square
my shoulders and nod with my back still to him. I turn away from him and head out to the car.

  Thankfully, Henry doesn’t say a word on the ride home, and gives me the space I need to clear my head. I watch the trees and houses go by, and concentrate on my breathing until I feel the numb calm again.

  When we pull into Leland’s driveway, we see him and Alex waiting for us on the porch.

  “Hey kids! How’s your mom today?” Leland yells, as we exit the car.

  “She’s okay.” Henry shrugs. “She told us we’re staying here permanently and selling our house. I understand why, but I just don’t like it.”

  Leland’s smile falters. “Oh, I’m sorry you feel that way, Henry.”

  “That didn’t come out right, Leland. I’m sorry.” Henry shakes his head. “I meant that I don’t like that we’re selling our house. Not the living with you part.” He shrugs. “All of our memories are in that house.”

  “You’re wrong, Henry. Your memories are in here.” He taps Henry’s temple. “And in here.” Then he taps Henry’s chest. Before either of us can comment, Leland enters the house with Alex in tow.

  I poke Henry’s side to get him to move. He looks my way and shakes his head, then disappears into the house.

  Heading to my room, I smile. Leland can be so cheesy sometimes. He sounded like a Hallmark card just now. But, I needed to hear it, and I’m sure it’ll help Henry, too.

  Luckily, there isn’t a lot of homework tonight, and I can relax for a while before dinner.

  I plug my iPod into the speakers and turn the volume up. Copperhead Road blasts through the speakers. I can’t believe I forgot what happened in study hall.

  I collapse to the floor, like the memories crashing into me have physical weight. The memories slam through every barrier I’ve formed, pressing into me, choking me.

  Flashing lights suddenly filled the dark car, the ambulances, patrol cars, and fire trucks being the reason. I could see a shiny red sports car with a crunched-up front end. This S-turn is so dangerous, which is why Mom refuses to take this road. Even though they posted the speed limit down to 25, people don’t listen and there are accidents here all the time.

  Henry pulled off to the side of the road and a bumper sticker caught my attention. It’s on the back of a dark colored Mazda and read, “Pittsburgh’s Biggest Fan!” with the symbols for NHL, NFL, and MLB. The “Pitt U” sticker in the back window froze my lungs. The “My Son Tackled Your Son” and “My Daughter Spiked Your Daughter’s Face Off” stickers, broke my heart to a thousand pieces.

  I jumped out of the car and took off running.

  “Dad!”

  I gasp for air and curl into myself on the hard floor. The tears leave hot tracks down my face pooling on the floor as my heart breaks again.

  I looked back over to the EMTs and watched in horror as an officer came walking back over with his head hung. With tears in his eyes and his head shaking, he said something that I couldn’t register. Mom started to fall to the ground screaming, but Henry caught her and just held on.

  I slowly walked over to the gurneys carrying my dad and sister. Grabbing a mangled hand of each, I stared at the stars.

  Why? Why now? Why tonight?

  “I love you…”

  Sobs rack my body as I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to cut off the flow of tears. I hug my knees in a small effort to stay grounded in the present.

  My sister’s smiling face and her tinkling laughter fill my mind.

  Who will sit up with me all night eating ice cream when I’m upset? Who will I talk to about boys? Sophie was supposed to tell me all about what to expect in college.

  We were supposed to go shopping for girly things, talk about boys, and do all the things I can’t do with Henry.

  I was never very close with her, but now I’ll never have the chance to rectify that.

  Dad’s handsome face pops into my mind. His kind blue eyes that lit up when he smiled, his contagious laughter, and graying goatee.

  I’ll never again walk into the kitchen and see my dad drinking coffee and reading the paper.

  He’ll never take me car shopping, meet my first boyfriend, or chase him away. He won’t get to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, if I ever get married.

  No more snowball fights with Sophie, screaming and running into the house because she hates snow. But she cheats, she would throw ice cubes from the windows and they hurt, especially when you’re pelted in the head with one.

  I’ll never again hear Dad sing his and Mom’s song to her in the middle of the grocery store.

  No more wrestling matches in the backyard or contests to see who can catch the most popcorn in their mouths.

  It hits me like a ton of bricks. Mom is selling our home. The house we grew up in. The place I learned to walk, ride a bike, draw, and paint. Everything about who I am, is in that house. That house is a part of me, like an extra limb.

  The house Mom and Dad were supposed to have until they died, at a very old age. The house we were supposed to visit when we grew up and moved out.

  Now, it’s just gone.

  Suddenly, the song shuts off, my uncle is yelling and someone is screaming. I think it’s Alex. He must be hurt.

  It dawns on me then. It’s not Alex, it’s me.

  I feel arms around me. I’m not sure who they belong to, but I don’t care at the moment.

  When my sobs turn into hiccups, I hear sniffling that isn’t me. Looking up to them both, I see they’re crying, too.

  Oh hell, looks like my breakdown broke them, too.

  Chapter 4

  Trust and the Wall

  Henry and I walk into the house Thursday after school, the delicious smell of chocolate chip cookies fill my senses.

  “If she keeps this up, I won’t be able to fit through the door,” I tell Henry.

  He smiles. “I’m glad she made them. I was beginning to worry about you.”

  I take in his appearance and notice the dark circles under his eyes. I frown, trying to calculate how much sleep he’s lost.

  I needed some time to come off of my waterworks display on Tuesday. I did it again. I shut everyone out.

  I sigh. “I’m sorry, Henry.”

  He puts an arm over my shoulder. “Do you need to talk?”

  I shake my head. “I need to go get some cookies,” I grin.

  He laughs and heads down to the weight room.

  Hearing Alex’s giggle and the scraping and clanging of dishes, I guess Miss Jaynie has Alex in his highchair while she’s doing dishes.

  I pause before entering. Maybe Miss Jaynie can help me.

  Skeeter and Seth want me to stop dodging questions, and I keep flip-flopping my decision. I want to tell them, if only for the reason of understanding. I don’t want to tell them if they’ll just tell everyone at school, or if they just want to use me to meet my uncle. I also fear they’ll continue talking to me out of pity.

  Who wants people to only talk to them because they feel bad for them? I wish I knew the right thing to do.

  I wonder if Seth and Skeeter will even talk to me now.

  Today and yesterday, I had my ear buds in all day. I wore my oversized hoodie and had my iPod hidden in my sleeve. I didn’t participate in classes. I didn’t talk to anyone, even Henry.

  Seth tried talking to me, but I didn’t turn the music down on my iPod to hear him. He touched my hand and it tingled again, but I pulled my hand into my sleeve and looked at him with my eyebrow raised. He walked away after a few minutes.

  He and Skeeter both asked me questions, too. I only heard a few because they were asked between songs. I didn’t answer them at all. They basically wanted to know why I was ignoring everyone. I wasn’t trying. I’m struggling and didn’t want to tell any of them why I was upset.

  I take a deep breath and walk into the kitchen.

  Alex spots me and squeals. Miss Jaynie startles, and I laugh.

  She smiles. “Hi, Sugar! Sit, have a cookie while I finish up these dishes.”
>
  I slide Alex’s highchair over to the bar and have a seat so I can talk to her while she’s loading the dishwasher.

  “Miss Jaynie, may I ask you a question?” I ask her, while grabbing a cookie for Alex and myself.

  “Sure, Sugar, what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”

  I wipe some crumbs off the cookie. “How do you know if telling someone something is the right thing to do?” I ask, then take a bite of the cookie.

  She looks at me with a raised brow. “What do you mean?”

  I look at my cookie for a second. “Well, you know everything that’s happened, with my mom, my dad and sister, and you know exactly who my uncle is.” I look up to her, and she nods before placing a bowl on the top shelf of the dishwasher.

  “Is this the something you’re unsure about telling?” She asks, and I nod. “Who’s the someone?”

  “Two of the friends I’ve made at school,” I say quietly. “I haven’t told them anything.” I shrug. “They ask, but I don’t answer. And now they’re mad at me, I think.”

  She finishes loading the dishes and comes to sit across from me. “In order to find out who is trustworthy, you gotta trust them, until they give you a reason not to.” She moves Alex’s sippy closer to him. “When I was in my twenties, my parents passed away. I’m an only child and I thought to myself, ‘what am I to do without my family?’ The only things that kept me goin’ were my faith and my friends. No one will know when to hold you up, if you don’t let them in.” She looks at me for a minute. “Listen to your heart.” She pats my arm before wiping milk from Alex’s chin.

  I frown. “How will I know if telling them is the right thing to do?”

  “Sugar, your uncle told me about the other night. Now don’t get embarrassed, he’s just worried about you.” She smiles. “When you and your friends fought, did it hurt your heart?”

  I think back and wince. “Yes, more than I care to admit.”

  “I think you need them. It’s your decision, but if you’re honest and you apologize, they’ll forgive you.” She winks. Alex throws part of his cookie at me, causing us to laugh. “Just turn the situation around. If they wouldn’t talk to you about their family, or something that bothered them, or dodged your questions, wouldn’t you feel bad, too?”