Gravity (Hollywood Connections Book 1)

by Renee Porter

  Prologue

  When did you fall in love? It is such a simple question, yet, when someone asks you those six little words, you can’t begin to explain to them the exact moment that feeling came into being. Maybe it’s the sum of the moments you spent with this person; this person who you feel like completes everything you are. This person who was born only for you; this person who seems to breathe out the very essence of your being just so you can breathe it back in. Maybe it was the time that you saw her sitting on that porch step. Her green eyes turned up toward the warm sun. The glow of rays streaming through her blonde curls which made the morning seem so much brighter. Maybe it was the time when she befriended you; this amazing person, stuck somewhere between being a just a girl and a woman, looking for comfort and partnership with anyone who would listen, even the awkward girl from next door. Maybe it was the time that she caught you staring and didn’t look away. Maybe it was the acute awareness that she was staring back.

  The thing is then, time isn’t an intangible thing at all. You live the moments, you touch them, you feel them, you see them. The beat of her heart like the second hand of a clock ticking away. The breaths marking the minutes and hours of the moments, those glorious moments that you were together. You’re able to touch and feel them all. And the memories stay, they always do and they always will. But just like the ticking clock, you know that time eventually runs out. It takes its course and with it, it captures those moments and fades out until all that is left is you. All that is left is you standing there alone, with only the memories of what the past was, what your present is, and how your future will be without her. How can time exist without her in those moments to help it along?

  So when did you fall in love? I wouldn’t be able to answer that question with a simple answer. I think the best question would be why did you fall in love? And if there was ever an actual end to loving her.

  Chapter 1

  September 2005

  The Southern California black tops were exceptionally hot this year. I remember hearing the weatherman say that this would be one of the hottest autumns on record. Great. I wouldn’t have cared that much if my mother agreed to use the air conditioner. But now that her hours had gotten cut at the grocery store, there would have to be cutbacks to our life as well. I just marked it down on the ever changing list of how much worse my life could get.

  Let’s go through some of them shall we? I stare out the window of the car, watching the white lines blur into one solid mass as I take in my appearance in the side mirror. One. My hair. If you can even call it that. While my mother’s is straight and smooth, I received my father’s frizz. It kinked where it shouldn’t, flew away when it should be matted down and ended up being a dark brown. It wasn’t a good thing living in California when all you really wanted was to have blonde flowing locks.

  Two. My teeth. Crooked and with a nasty overbite I was teased mercilessly as a kid. When most teenagers got braces in junior high, I had to wait until high school. I’m grateful that my mother saved for years just to afford them but at this point I’m really questioning if the metal mouth is more attractive than a bunch of screwed up teeth. At least they are white. Maybe I could’ve gotten away with it.

  Three. I got my mother’s plumpness. Of course, since dad died she’s gained some weight too, not as much as me though. While I wouldn’t call myself obese, I know that I could stand to lose a couple of pounds. It’s just so hard to eat healthy when mom doesn’t make a lot of money. Eating healthy means eating better foods which cost more to buy. Isn’t that how life works? Whatever is good for you means you better pay up for it?

  Four. My eyes. Or the four of them to be precise. My vision is horrible with astigmatism in both eyes. I can’t even get contact lenses because they don’t make them yet for my prescription. And seeing as we couldn’t afford designer frames, I’m literally peering out of coke bottle lenses. The only thing I have going for me is their color. I was able to get some green from my dad and blue from my mom. Mix in a little brown from my grandparents and viola, I have the only interesting thing about me. My mom says that when I look at her without my glasses I look like my dad. She gives me a sad smile and it breaks my heart. How can she go through life looking into a spitting image of the person she loved and lost? That brings me to number five. The loss of my father. It’s only been five years and I still feel like I’ll wake up and see him sitting at the breakfast table, sipping his coffee and looking up with a great white smile.

  Sometimes I imagine him saying “Good Morning, B,” and I would respond in kind. I’d ask him what kind of crazy cases he’s seen lately and he would make me laugh with some insane story of a looney hypochondriac, sure that he had the rarest disease because he looked up his symptoms online. And then the dream will fade because I’m looking at his chair and he’s not there. His office now belonging to an insurance agent. Where it had said Michael Montgomery, M.D. General Medicine, it now says “Save $20 on your home or auto!” It sickens me every time we pass it. He’s supposed to be there - not just in my memories and six feet under.

  “If you keep making that face it will get stuck like that forever.” Mom makes a left and I hold onto the “oh shit” handle as she speeds through the turn. The groceries in the back tumble out and she winces when the milk hits the bottom of the backseat. I know she’s in a hurry to get the spoilable items in the fridge. It’s not like we could afford another trip for a while.

  “You know I’m going to be a junior this year, right?” I say in response to her statement. She looks at me with a teenage ‘duh’ expression and I smirk. “That means I’ve already learned that it’s an old wives tale about your face staying stuck. So I can do this,” I cross my eyes and stick out my tongue at her, “all day long.” And just like that what I set out to do works. I hear my mother laugh deep and I smile at the fact that I put that sound there.

  I still remember the first laugh I heard from her after my father died. It seemed like mom was just going through the motions. There but not really there for the longest time. And then one day, out of the blue, mom starts laughing. And it wasn’t a small chuckle. It was a knee slapping, breathless laugh. The kind that makes you smile and laugh along just from hearing and watching it. And when I was finally able to find out why she was laughing, I realized that I had barbeque sauce all over my face from the ribs I was eating. At that moment I knew that making my mother laugh was one of the best feelings in the world. So now, I try to do it at least once a day.

  “I still can’t believe you’re going to be a junior.” My mother’s eyes start misting over and I nudged her shoulder to get her out of that mood. I hate seeing her like that. I know she’s thinking about how much dad would want to see me graduate and can’t bear to think those thoughts too. Not now.

  “I still have a week before school starts. I’ll make sure to be really immature for the next seven days for you.” I wink at my mom and she just shakes her head at me. Wiping away the tears we finally pull up to our home and I hustle out of the passenger seat to start bringing in the groceries. With my head in the car, I’m gathering all of the frozen and cold items first when I hear mom talking off in the distance. I figure she’s chatting with Kathy, the old woman who lives next door, like she usually does but Kathy’s voice sounds a lot younger and a lot more subdued.

  “Beatrice!” I wince at the sound of my full name. Did I mention the sixth thing on my list? Beatrice was my grandmother’s name and my parents only saw it fitting to name me after her. Although, most of the time they call me “B” I still can’t get away from the name fully.

  I look up to where my mother is standing and waving me over. I shuffle my feet as I make my way
over to her, now fully aware of the girl sitting down on the front step and taking in every stride.

  Finally, I reach my mother who smiles at me and places her hand on my shoulder. The girl looks up and gives me a short and not so welcoming smile. I knew her type and it made me even more uncomfortable.

  “Beatrice this is Madeline. Madeline this is my daughter, Beatrice.” I noticeably wince at the name as I hold my hand out and say “B” like she was my friend or something. The girl takes my hand and grasps it and says “Maddie”. At the sound of the shortened name, something inside of me somersaults. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s giving me the permission to use her nickname or maybe it’s the fact that she looks to be everything I wish I was.

  “B, Madeline is Kathy’s granddaughter and she’s going to be staying with her while she finishes school.” My mother turns to Maddie. “You’re going to be a senior right?” I heard my mother’s tone and immediately my shackles rose. I knew that my mother was meddling and I wish I could elbow her to stop without bringing attention to myself.

  Madeline gave a tight smile.

  “Yes. I guess I’ll be finishing up at Granada Hills High.” Maddie looks between me and my mother, sure that she’s confused about the difference in expressions she sees. While my mother was sporting a wide smile with twinkling eyes, I on the other hand, probably looked like someone just shot my dog.

  “Oh isn’t that just great, B? You two will be going to school with one another. Maybe you can show Maddie around on the first day.” My mother grasps my shoulder and squeezes, a little too hard if you ask me.

  “Uh, sure. If, uh, that is, you know. If you want.” I shrug my shoulders and look at my shoes, suddenly interested in a small pebble on the concrete.

  “Yeah, sounds fun, I guess.” Maddie commits without committing and she looked so at ease that I just wanted to shake her. But instead I exhaled.

  “Okay, well. Nice meeting you. I’m going to go put the groceries away mom.” I give my mother the ‘stare’ that tells her she is overstaying her welcome and finally she catches on.

  “Right. Yes, the groceries. Well, it was great meeting you Maddie. I’ll call your grandmother and maybe you two can come over for dinner one of these nights. Would you like that?”

  My mother says it as if she’s a stray that may run away at the slightest movement. Maddie shrugs and my mother takes it as a ‘yes’. It was obvious that this girl didn’t want us around. No surprise there.

  “Okay great. Well good luck with moving in. Bye now,” my mother waves as I grab her arm to steer her away from our new neighbor. “Hey, what’s the rush?” My mother whispers to me. I open the back seat and start piling groceries in my hands.

  “Mom, please don’t do that. You know I hate it when you try to set me up.” My nerves are on overdrive and I barely notice my mother’s hurt expression.

  “I just thought it would be nice for you to have a friend.”

  I shook my head as I pivoted to the front door. I waited for my mother to open it and when we were finally in the confines of the house I raised my voice so she could hear.

  “I can make my own friends mom. I don’t need your help.” The tightness in my throat threatened to choke me but I forced through the words. “Plus, look at her. She doesn’t want to be my friend.”

  “Oh, Beatrice. She is a nice young lady.” My mother started to place the perishables in the fridge as I stood there against the counter, arms holding myself defensively.

  “You don’t know what it’s like anymore. If you don’t look like them,” I pointed out front motioning toward where we left Maddie, “then you don’t belong.”

  My mom closed the fridge and turned to me. “So unless you have blonde hair and blue eyes, you’re not allowed to have friends? Come on B, you’re being too hard on yourself.”

  I bit the bottom of my lip and my braces rubbed against the inside of my lip. I should be used to it by now but I couldn’t help but flinch at the pinch I felt.

  “All I’m saying is that Maddie will have no problem fitting in. And I doubt that she’ll want someone like me showing her around. It would be social suicide.”

  I whisper the last part as I felt my mother walk over. She threw her arms around me and I fought the tears back. I didn’t want to cry. I vowed to myself that this year would be different.

  “You are a beautiful, talented, funny and all around amazing human being, B. Anyone would be lucky to call you a friend.” She kissed my temple and I sniffed.

  “You have to say that cause you’re my mom. You’re biased…and stuff.” I wiped away a tear that escaped. Mutiny!

  “Nonsense. You’re going to see that this girl is different. I can feel it. I think you two are going to get along just famously. Just you wait.” My mom touched her nose to mine and I scoffed.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Just try, B. That’s all I ask.”

  And because I love my mother and would do anything for her I nodded. Even though I knew how this would all end.

  “Hey, B? Did you grab the milk?”

  “Shoot!” I rushed out of the house and to the car, opening the door and grabbing the large, warm carton. As I locked up the car I took a chance and looked over to my new neighbor. Maddie was still seated on her step, her eyes looking up toward the sky. The warming California sun seemed to make her skin glow with the same honey color as her hair. I imagined her deep green eyes twinkling and again something flipped inside of me. She finally brought her head down and looked over to where I was standing. A small, almost sad smile appeared and she waved at me. Stupidly, I waved back.

  Maybe mom would be right after all.

  Chapter 2

  July 2015

  “All I’m saying is that bullying is a serious problem these days. I mean look at the statistics. You have kids…let me repeat that…kids committing suicide because of how they are being treated in school. Whether it be their ethnicity, their weight, the way they look, their sexuality. We have to do something to stop the hatred!”

  “Well I think if someone is a fag they deserve to be taught a lesson. I don’t want no fudge packer checking me out in the locker room.” The uproar deafened the normally quiet classroom as I stood suddenly.

  “Bryan! That language and not to mention your discriminatory words towards the LGBT community is disrespectful.” I look towards Bryan Donnelly and inwardly cringed. I would like to say that ten years was enough for high school to change but hearing those words come from one of the most popular students was enough for me to realize it is only wishful thinking.

  “Not to mention totally out of order. Gays and lesbians deserve the same rights as any other human.” I looked over at Denise at her bark back to Bryan.

  “Okay, Denise. We’re going to end this debate here. Bryan, I don’t want to hear any more of that speak in my classroom or these halls. Do you understand me?” The boy shrugs his shoulders and I notice his friend give him a low five under the desk. I wish I could do more but unfortunately, teaching these days isn’t what it used to be.

  I stare at the clock as the kids write down their assignment and hurry out of the room. The second hand ticks by every minute and I swear that my classroom is nothing but a black hole where no time actually exists.

  “Four more hours,” a body plops down in the closest chair to my desk and I look up to find my friend and fellow teacher, Vanessa, staring tiredly at me.

  “Feels like four more years,” I mutter as I put away the stack of in class assignments in my briefcase.

  “Bad day, huh?”

  “If you think children yelling out discriminatory slurs is a bad day then yes.” I exhale as I run my hand through my dark locks.

  “Oh please don’t tell me is Donnelly again?” I pointed at my nose and Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s a learned behavior. You know how his father is.”

  I nod my head as I imagine the probable nightly ritual at the Donnelly house. A nice dinner, followed by dessert and coffee and then gra
bbing of pitchforks so they can join the local mob to burn witches and dykes.

  “At least it’s Friday!” Vanessa sings the last word and something strikes within me. Friday, why does that sound so familiar? “Oh come on B, you didn’t forget did you?”

  And then I remember. Vanessa. Her boyfriend Jared. Me as the third wheel. Dinner and movies. “Shit, sorry, Vanessa. I don’t know where my mind is lately.”

  “Maybe you just need to get laid,” she says through the side of her mouth. I eye her and throw a pen in her direction which she swiftly dodges. “Please don’t back out. This one is supposed to be the best in the series. Plus it has a little hot actress that is sure to tickle your fancy.” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down but my stomach clenches. What could I say to get out of this? I race through my mind trying to find an excuse. Doing my hair? So cliché. Grading papers? She may go for that. How about I would rather have a thousand paper cuts and jump into a pool of lemon juice than watch that movie? I sigh at her hopeful expression and give in.

  With a forced smile I say, “Of course I didn’t make any plans. What time should I be at your place?” Vanessa smiles widely as she gives me the time and the schedule of what we were doing. I sit and listen but the words aren’t sticking. Instead, my mind drifts and yet again, time stands still.

  ***

  September 2005

  “So that’s D building. That’s where your science class is going to be. And over there,” I point behind me as I look over to the building, “is B building. That’s history and next to it is woodshop.”

  I look up at an uninterested Maddie who doesn’t even look like she’s taking in anything I’m saying. “Do you have any questions?”

  “Huh?” Maddie looks down at me as she adjusts her backpack on her shoulder. “Oh, no. D building, science. B building, history. I got it.”

  “And woodshop.”