Buried Castles

by Monica Alexander

  She was being sweet, and I appreciated that. I needed a friend in that moment.

  “No, I’m great. Everything’s great,” I said, keeping the smile on my face. I wasn’t about to unload on Brittany in the hallway.

  “I’m glad. It’s good to see you. Let’s catch up,” she said, and I nodded. “Oh, by the way, I like your nose ring. I think it’s really fun.”

  With that she turned and walked back into the chapter room, and I was happy to know at least one person was on my side.

  ***

  “You about ready?” Rachel asked, as I was fighting to put my nose ring back in place. Three days of doing this and it hurt like hell.

  I was already in a bad mood, and this was making it worse, but at least I wasn’t crying. That was a bonus, I guess. Having just endured three hours of banter about which girls we would invite back to the third round of Rush, I was pissed off. Not only had a girl I’d really liked not been chosen because she wasn’t ‘Gamma Pi’ material, but some of my sisters had known how much I liked her and intentionally sabotaged the vote.

  The rule is that any girl who’d met a rushee could vote on her. Well that would be fine if we all played fair, but unfortunately we didn’t. Five of my sisters had spent two seconds talking to this girl just so they could vote no on her. It took everything in me not to storm out of the meeting or at least stand up and say something, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I’d been a part of the house for long enough to know how things worked.

  I ended up just maintaining my silence for the rest of the night, voting when I had to, but not weighing in on any of the girls. It didn’t matter anyway. My opinion was obviously worthless to them. Then I realized that I was a hypocrite, and I suddenly understood what Rachel had been telling me when she’d said I was a mean girl. In years past, I’d been right there beside Brynn and Dylan, fighting against girls who didn’t ‘fit the mold’, and I hadn’t thought anything of it.

  It was suddenly apparent to me how much I’d changed over the summer.

  “Done,” I said, standing back and smiling in triumph.

  “Beautiful,” Rachel said, kissing me on the cheek.

  “Where are we going by the way? Not a Rush Party, I hope. I can’t handle another one of those.”

  In addition to it being Rush Week for the sororities, the frats were also looking for new pledges, so they were hosting parties each night. The two nights prior, I’d been a good sister and had joined some of my friends to make the rounds at some of the houses. Of course I’d bailed once they’d gotten to the Sig Ep house. I wasn’t about to run into Ben for the first time at a party at which he’d likely be drunker than shit with freshman girls hanging all over him – that is unless he was still seeing Ashleigh Ballast, and she’d be all over him. No thanks. I planned to avoid him until I had to see him.

  Rachel laughed. “Um, no. Sorry, I’m not doing the frat guy thing. Not since I found real man.”

  “Thanks, baby,” Chase said, coming up behind her, his arms snaking around her waist as he kissed her neck. She twisted in his arms and started kissing him, which was still hard for me to watch.

  “Chase, don’t you have to go back to school?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed.

  “Aww, Em, you love having your big brother here. Don’t deny it.” With that, he released Rachel and pulled me into a bear hug, squeezing the breath out of me.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, as he set me on my feet. “I do like having you here. I’m not going to lie, but come on with the PDA already. Girl with a broken heart here. Besides, since when are you my ‘big’ brother, huh?”

  Chase just grinned at me. “Since always. I was born three minutes before you.”

  “Yeah, you’re so much older,” I said, punching him lightly on his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

  ***

  “Keep it down, okay guys?” I said, chastising Chase and Rachel who were making out as they closed the door to her room. I knew what would happen once they were alone, I just didn’t want to think about it.

  “No guarantees,” Rachel called out before she started giggling. Hopefully that was the last I’d hear from her that night.

  It had actually been a tolerable night, and I was looking forward to crashing hard. Thankfully I didn’t have to be at the sorority house until ten o’clock, so I could sleep in. I pulled out my cell phone and stared at it. Pushing the ‘Contacts’ button, I scrolled down to the Es and stared at Zack’s name, willing him to call me, but I knew he wouldn’t. I half-considered calling him for a moment, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. He didn’t want to talk to me anymore. He didn’t want to know me.

  Apparently feeling the need to torture myself just a little bit more, I fired up my laptop and got on the Internet. I went to the Liar’s Edge website. Liar’s Edge was the band Zack had fronted for three and a half years. They’d broken up a while back, and their website hadn’t been updated in a year and a half, but I still checked it pretty regularly. I’m not sure what I was looking for, but each time I went on, I always ended up on the page that had the pictures of the band. There were a few shots of the guys on stage and a few of them goofing off backstage, and then there were some individual shots that looked more posed.

  Even though it made my heart ache, I clicked through them all, feeling a little squeeze when I came to one of Zack and his cousin, Leo, the Liar’s Edge bassist. They were both laughing at something, and Zack looked so happy. There were a few times I’d seen that look on his face but not many. But the picture that really jarred my emotions was one of him sitting alone against a brick wall, his guitar in hand and his head down as he played an unknown song. His brown hair fell into his eyes, partially obscuring his face, and he looked so natural. It was a pose I’d seen him in more times than I could count, but to make matters worse, he was wearing the Duke sweatshirt that I now owned.

  Taking a deep breath, I clicked out of the window and shut my laptop.

  Involuntarily, I reached for Zack’s sweatshirt, that I’d draped over the back of my desk chair, and pulled it over my head, instantly feeling the smallest bit of comfort from having something of his so close to me. I could still, just barely, make out the smells that reminded me of him – the beach, his clove cigarettes and something that was just Zack.

  A sudden knock on the French doors leading to my balcony startled me so much I nearly dropped my laptop on the floor. I could see the silhouette of a man outside the door, and my heart started to pound out of my chest. Then I rationalized that a rapist or a murderer probably wouldn’t knock, and my stupid broken heart leapt at the irrational idea that it was Zack. Knowing I was insane, I quickly dismissed that thought.

  Cautiously walking over to the doors, I pulled the curtain aside and sighed. I should have known.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked curtly, opening the door so Ben could come inside.

  “Emily!” he said, and it was obvious he was drunk when he practically fell through the doors. “Hey baby.”

  I stumbled backward as he fell against me, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me to his chest.

  “Ben, what are you doing here?” I said, as I attempted to extricate myself from his grasp. He reeked of alcohol.

  He pulled back to look at me. “I missed you,” he said, looking broken all of a sudden. “Didn’t you miss me?”

  I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t have to because he answered his own question.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head and looking like someone had shot his dog. “You didn’t miss me. If you missed me, you would have come by the house to see me. I waited for you, but you didn’t show up. I looked for you when Taryn and Lindsay and Brittany stopped by the party, but you weren’t with them.” Ben shook his head at me. “You were probably with your new boyfriend. You didn’t want to see me.”

  At his mention of my new boyfriend, my heart squeezed, and I knew the tears could start at any moment. Why did he have to bring up Zack? Why?

  “Ben,” I said, comp
rehending just how drunk he really was. “Did you drive here?”

  The girl in me who had loved him for so long was concerned that he’d put himself in harm’s way for me. I didn’t want to know how he’d scaled my balcony on the second floor, but he didn’t seem to be hurt or bleeding.

  He shook his head. “Noah dropped me off. I told him I wanted to go to my girl’s house, and he drove me. He’s good friend.”

  Ben slumped down onto my window seat and gazed at me in what he probably thought was an adoring way. He looked sort of psychotic to me. And he didn’t have a car here. Awesome.

  His eyes suddenly squinted as if he was trying to focus. “Why are you wearing a Duke sweatshirt?” he asked, leaning over so much that he almost fell off the window seat.

  “I’m not,” I said, quickly pulling the sweatshirt off and tossing it in the corner.

  “Okay,” he said and let his head fall back against the wall. It sort of bounced a few times as if he didn’t have much control over his neck muscles, and I cringed involuntarily.

  “Ben, I thought you were seeing Ashleigh,” I said, realizing the words were harder to get out than I’d thought they would be. After all, I was completely over him.

  Ben waved his hand in dismissal. “Pshah,” he said, and I wasn’t exactly sure what that was supposed to mean. “She only wanted me for my body, and honestly, she wasn’t that great in bed. We are no longer engaging in sexual activity.”

  I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh. When he’d said that last part, he’d adopted an affected accent that sounded almost British. For some reason, it was funny, but I was probably just exhausted and frankly still a little buzzed.

  Recovering from my giggling fit, I looked over at Ben. His eyes had closed. “I just want my Emily back,” he mumbled. “I love her, and I want her back. It’s all I want.”

  Okay, that really wasn’t funny.

  Grudgingly, I stood up from my bed, opened the door and walked over to Rachel’s room. I hated to do it, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to drive, and Ben couldn’t stay at our apartment. Listening for sounds of things I didn’t want to hear, I stood outside her door. All I could hear was talking. I assumed it was safe and knocked.

  “Ye-es,” she said, dragging out the word.

  “I need Chase for a minute,” I said, resting my head against the door jam.

  A few seconds later my brother came to the door wearing just his boxers. “What can I do for you?”

  I sighed. “There’s a passed out Ben in my room, and I need you to drive him home,” I said, and added, “please,” when I saw the look on his face.

  “How did Ben get into your room?” Rachel called from the bed. I could barely make out her shape in the dark room. I could tell by her tone that she assumed I’d booty-called him.

  Thanks for the vote of confidence, BF.

  Okay, so I guess Rachel had a right to assume that. I’d been vacillating about my break up with Ben just a few days earlier, but it was a momentary, emotional lapse in judgment fueled by the fact that I hated being alone and missed Zack like crazy. I did not want to get back together with Ben.

  “He climbed up the balcony,” I sighed, “and no, we did not hook up, but he is extremely drunk and is sans car, so unless you want him to spend the night on the couch, we need to drive him back to his apartment.”

  “I’ve got it,” Chase said, as he started pulling on clothes. “But you owe me one, Em.”

  “I know,” I said, grateful my brother was such a good guy. “Thanks Chase.”

  Chapter Four

  Zack

  I was numb. There was no other way to describe what I was feeling. I was completely numb.

  Not bothering to change out of the suit I’d bought just for today and would probably end up burning so I wouldn’t have to look at it again, I grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels I’d purchased a few weeks back and headed out to the porch. Slinking down to the floor, I opened the bottle and took a long pull, willing it to work its way into my system as quickly as possible. I was surprised when the alcohol didn’t burn like I’d expected, but then again, I wasn’t really feeling anything at the moment, so why should I feel that?

  “Zack?” my cousin called from behind me as he dragged his suitcase into the house.

  I didn’t answer him. I just took another swig from the bottle, closed my eyes and leaned back against the house.

  “Zack, what are you doing, man?” Leo asked, as he stepped outside. He tried to pull the bottle from my hand.

  “Fuck off, Leo,” I said, pulling away from him.

  “Fuck you,” he said in return, obviously unconcerned about hurting my feelings. I mean why should he be concerned? I’d just buried my mother. I was obviously having a great day.

  Before I could stop him, he sat down next to me and grabbed the bottle from my hand. I looked over at him with a murderous glare, but he just took a swig and handed the bottle back to me.

  I stared at him with a mix of confusion and contempt.

  “What?” he asked, but I knew he didn’t expect me to answer. “If you’re getting fucked up, I am too.”

  “Whatever,” I said, taking another pull from the bottle before I passed it back to him.

  Chapter Five

  Zack

  I’d been drunk for the better part of five days, and I didn’t plan on stopping. What was the point? Every time I started to sober up, memories I never wanted to remember flooded back to me.

  A church.

  People dressed all in black.

  A preacher whose words made my chest ache.

  The coffin in the center aisle that I couldn’t bring myself to look at.

  The picture of my mother, healthy and smiling.

  I opened a new bottle.

  Amazing Grace

  The eulogy I’d managed to choke out because even though it was the last thing I’d wanted to do, I wanted people to hear just how amazing my mother had been.

  The tears from those around me.

  My aunts dabbing their eyes.

  My cousin Molly holding my left hand and my cousin Reagan hold my right one.

  I took a long pull, relishing in the familiar taste.

  My father hugging me, telling me he was sorry.

  The women she knew and their looks of pity as they gazed at me.

  The drive to the cemetery. I’d had to stare at the back of that fucking hearse the whole way.

  I fisted my hands and punched the floor of the porch.

  The casket hovering above that dark hole.

  The smell of soil that had been unearthed specifically for that moment.

  The sickly sweet stench of the dozens of roses surrounding the gravesite.

  The casket being lowered into the ground.

  I felt fresh tears fall down my cheeks, cascading like rivers and took a long drink of the brown liquid that had become my salvation.

  The casket stopping six feet into the earth. My mother’s final resting place was a goddam hole in the fucking ground.

  Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

  I took another gulp, and another, and another.

  The processional of people who paraded by, each tossing a rose into the hole, saying goodbye.

  My turn. I was the last one.

  Sinking to my knees, I dropped the rose on top of the casket and let my head fall into my hands.

  The feeling of complete emptiness as I said a final goodbye to the woman who’d raised me, who’d taught me how to be a good person, and who’d loved me in spite of everything else.

  I took another drink, the tears stinging my eyes, running into my mouth and mixing with the sweetness of the alcohol.

  Leo standing beside me. Helping me up and letting me lean on him when I had trouble putting one foot in front of the other.

  Molly wrapping her arms around me and Reagan following suit. Jared patting me on the back.

  My aunts telling me it would be okay, that she wasn’t in pain anymore, that she was in
Heaven.

  The preacher’s final words.

  I’d looked up, met his gaze and reality had finally set in. My mother was gone. I would never see her again. She would never smile at me or tell me she loved me or tell me she was proud of me. She would never yell at me or laugh with me or hug me again. I would never hear her voice. I could never look into her eyes and know she was on my side, even when no one else was. She would never sing off-key while I played her favorite songs for her, and as much as I’d hated it my whole life, I’d never hear her call me Zacky again.

  She was gone, and I was alone.

  I lifted the bottle to my lips and drank, and slowly, the pain and the memories and the feeling of loss slipped into oblivion right along with me.

  Chapter Six

  Emily

  I heard my name as I walked across campus to Starbucks. I chose to ignore the person calling my name. I only had an hour until my next class and wanted to get some caffeine in me before I had to suffer through Law of Mass Comm. It was easily the most boring class I’d ever taken and confirmed why I hadn’t ever wanted to be a lawyer. The law was so dull.

  “Emily,” he said again, closer this time, but I still didn’t turn around. “Hey, Em!”

  I didn’t stop when he caught up next to me, so he fell into stride beside me.

  “What do you want Ben?” I asked, not looking at him. I hadn’t seen him since he’d shown up drunk in my bedroom two weeks earlier.

  “I just want to talk,” he insisted, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulder as he kept up with my rapidly increasing pace. I might have had short legs, but I was a fast walker when I needed to be.

  “About what?” I asked, the aggravation in my voice apparent.

  I’d successfully avoided Ben since school had started, but it seemed he’d finally learned my class schedule. I guess it was his only option after I’d refused to see him any of the seven times he’d come over to my apartment. Thankfully he hadn’t scaled any more balconies. He’d always knocked on the door, and each time I’d either not answered or Rachel had told him to leave. But he was persistent.