I do as he says. The dark, narrow hallway isn’t long. At the end, there’s a table with food. To my right, three couples are already undressing, and as I find the door that says Without A Compass, I bump right into a broad chest.
“Hi, Matthew.” His eyes recognize me at once. He shakes his head, his jaw sets, and he crosses his arms. “It’s me. Pria. We met a couple of years ago. Your brother and I…” My chin drops, I’m such an idiot. Biting my lips for a second, I regain control of myself, and the tears that are about to flood my eyes. “This is a mistake, isn’t it?” He nods once. “I really thought—how stupid of me.”
“Security.” He finally speaks, and not to me. “Who the fuck let her in?”
“Sorry, she said that… I’ll be happy take care of her.”
I lift my gaze to look at him one last time. “Sorry, Pria, this is for the best. Trust me.”
The same man who let me in pushes me toward the end of the hallway and takes a sharp left. We’re close to a door and no one is around. Only large, black boxes, instruments, and ropes. The creepy room has only one yellow light bulb. I want to get out of here, but he’s holding my arms too tight.
One second we’re walking and the next he’s slamming me against the wall, rubbing himself against me. My blood feels like it is draining away, and my throat is closing, but I fight the large object obstructing it and scream as loud as I can.
“Help me!” I use my legs to fight him but he restrains them with one leg. “Don’t touch me. Please don’t.”
His hand reaches inside my jeans, trying to touch me, calling me a cock tease. “Once the band finishes with you, you belong to the roadies.” His hot breath touches my skin and I want to puke. My heartrate accelerates, and in that moment I wish he would kill me after he’s done with me. “You’re mine.” He bangs my head several times against the wall. I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open and my last thoughts are of Mae, my parents and him—Jacob.
“Get the hell away from her, fucker.” Someone pulls him off me and my body slams to the floor. I hear the thump but feel disconnected somehow. My head hits it and everything begins to fade. The voices are far away.
“Fuck, call an ambulance,” a voice screams in desperation. Male, rough. “Put that fucker in jail, and make sure we absorb any medical expense—the best you can find. Make sure Jacob doesn’t know about this. He’s going to have my balls if he ever finds out.”
“You should’ve left her in the hospital, Mom,” Mae screams at our mother. “She had a concussion.”
“I’m a nurse. I know what to do.” Mom hands me a pair of old pajamas that linger around my room. “I don’t have money to throw away just because she’s a whore.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Each word scratches the back of my throat. “They almost raped me.”
“You were at a concert, like a slut. Then went backstage to have sex with those men. I know what goes on there. You gave him permission to do whatever he wanted by dressing like a prostitute. This is God punishing you. Grow up and become a serious person. You’re never going to meet a nice man, have a nice home, or be happy.”
Maeve hugs me while I cry. I’m not sure why I do. This is the worst night of my life. I learned the truth: he doesn’t sleep with the same girl twice. Matthew confirmed everything with that disgusted look he gave me. Mom hates me for not being like her, and the images of that man trying to touch me replay again and again.
“You’re anything but, Pree-bee,” Mae whispers. “I’ll care for you tonight, baby sister.”
“I promise to be better, Mommy.” I finally speak because the little love she has left for me is about to disappear. “You’ll be proud of me, I swear you’ll be.”
“Cypriana, sleeping around with men who don’t care about you will only bring you heartache and no one will take you seriously. I love you. Everything I say and do is because I want the best for you.”
“Glenda, get out of Pria’s room and stop saying stupid things.” Dad, who never contradicts Mom, enters my room. “No one has the right to do anything you don’t want them to, sweetheart.”
He takes me in his arms and rocks me. “No one should touch my little girl. I’ll keep you safe.”
I’m incredibly thankful for my dad’s support, but Mom is right. This isn’t the first time I’ve been hurt because I’d broken her rules. Never again.
JACOB
The driver stares at the hundred I hand him, and then at me. I don’t stay to find out what he wants. Instead I climb out of the cab and pat it so he drives away. The tombstone isn’t far away from the sidewalk—only a few feet. I walk while looking at the stars above me.
“Fuck you, Pria.” I take a swig of tequila from one of the bottles that I brought with me. “She was everything you weren’t, and because of you, I never gave her what she wanted: a song.”
No one responds, the graveyard stays silent. Only a few crickets chirp a sad soundtrack to death. I drop to the ground when I reach her grave. These days I can only be close to her when I’m here. If I had loved her enough, I would’ve done so much more than I did. Provided the money to save her. Had the power to keep our boy with me. I had them both. There’s nothing left for me. Numbing myself with alcohol and women is the only way I’ll be able to survive for the rest of my life.
Every star that twinkles reminds me of her. Pria. Remembering her is a betrayal to the promises I made to Norah. I ingest the contents left from the second bottle of the night and open the third. This should erase her.
Fuck. I can’t keep it together. Pria swirls around my head, as does Hunter… God I can’t get him back from his father. My parents refuse to help me and Norah didn’t leave me any legal document to claim him as mine. But he is mine. Tyler Stinson isn’t letting me see him. I haven’t seen my boy for so long.
I search for answers in the sky, but the only clear thing that comes to me is the image of Pria and those bewitching eyes.
“You’re right, babe. I shouldn’t look to the sky. It’s only you. From now on, I’ll look at you.” I touch the stud earring she left me. She’s buried with the other. A way to keep her presence with me until the end of time. “Never will I talk to her, nor will I think of her. I’ll never fall in love again. Only you, babe. No one will touch my lips. Those belong to you. All my energy will be focused on Hunter, our boy. He’ll live like a prince, as I promised.”
I turn my body around and my face touches the ground. My arms wish I could hug her one more time, but the only thing I can do is keep my promises to her and to my siblings. I’ll live for the two of them.
Part II
Five years later
Two months ago she gave me the news and I still can’t wrap my head around what has happened. She’s dead. Gone. She reached her final destination and left me—alone.
The falling rain washes down the piles of dirt, dragging it back into the six-foot hole where soon the wooden box will be set to rest. The priest continues blabbing about the happy moments we shared, and how God decided to take another angel to his side.
I agree with the angel part—he took one of the best. Our guardian angel. But about the former—the happy moments—I don’t remember seeing her happy. Nope, there’s not one image in my mind where she’s smiling. There weren’t many hugs or kisses either. Those carry germs.
Why did you leave?
I stare at the oak-colored casket with the carved crucifixes along the side. Mae grips my arm as she cries non-stop.
Not one answer comes out of that wooden box. I don’t understand. For years she worked hard to protect Maeve. Fragile, beautiful Mae. Their first born, who at a young age, had been diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis.
In the end, Mae’s the one who’s burying the pillar of the house. Mom.
“She’s taking with her the happy moments,” the priest continues.
Honestly, I don’t know if Mom was ever ha
ppy. My oldest memories of her go back to when I was three and she called me her doll. She handed out special hugs back then, but one day, even the hugs became a commodity in the Walker household.
“You shouldn’t be here.” I pat Mae’s hand. “Mom’s going to have a fit.”
“Yeah, well, she can’t lecture me now, can she?” Mae says that in a rebellious and defiant sobbing tone that only Maeve Walker can pull off.
“Do you recall teaching me how to play the piano, Mommy?” I chat with her inside my head, as if she’s part of the spectators and not inside that box. “Then braiding my hair. And you taught me so much, Mommy. Including to never give up and to keep fighting for the ones we love.”
Stupid stage four cancer.
When Mae and I finally made her go to the doctor, they told her that she had colon cancer—stage four—and that it had spread all over her body. Just when we were close, God took her away from me. Three months. That’s all the doctor offered. She only lasted two.
My fingers fidget with the umbrella’s handle. I wish the priest would hurry with that long and boring speech. Mom would’ve hated all the unnecessary words he spits. In, out and get on with your life was her philosophy. The irony of life: her funeral is everything she would’ve hated.
“I hate the rain.” I can’t help but chuckle at what Mae says, while also making sure she’s covered properly. “Pree, stop. I’m not your kid.”
“Everything has shifted, Mae,” I whisper. Mae nods.
It’s as if the constellations moved a few degrees and my world has lost its balance again.
“Ana.” Robbie, my fiancé, touches my arm lightly. “It’s time to place the roses.”
I scan around. Our friends, family, and some of her former coworkers watch Mae and me intently. Mom would be so disappointed in me for not looking like a classy lady who can handle herself even when her mother has died. I nudge my sister and we walk to where the casket stands and place the pink roses Robbie hands us.
“I’m sorry, Mommy, for everything.”
My relationship with Mom during my teenage years sucked. But it transformed into a close, tender, and loving one right after that concert. The night she realized that her other daughter was as vulnerable as Maeve. I wasn’t Mae, but I was her sidekick. It was a great mother and daughter relationship—not perfect. We bumped heads often. Our last big fight was right before we found out she was about to die. The one I’d never forget. I bailed Mae out of the house and took her to Hawaii. The doctor gave her the green light and prescribed some medication to numb her during the flight—a way to diminish her anxiety, because those metal things can fall anytime without warning. Mae made it to the warm beach. That thousand-volt smile she wore for the entire trip was worth every penny I spent, and it was worth facing Mom’s rage.
Sorry your funeral isn’t too fancy. I hope Mom’s listening. With Dad’s expenses and that trip, it was hard to come up with the cost. I went for classy-poor instead of Empress-chic as you deserved.
I kiss the tip of my fingers and touch the casket. My mommy died. She was the one I counted on to stay longer than anyone. We had so much more to do. The wedding, babies, and so many more milestones. My time with her was coming, but it never did. Now I’m left with her responsibilities and I have no idea how to keep our house alive.
“I’ll miss you, Mommy,” I whisper, and the wind whispers back. I’m always with you, Pree.
Tears stream down my cheeks as they lower the casket. These past three weeks have been hard on everyone, but especially Mae. My heart shrinks as it appears she has lost her biggest cheerleader. Now we only have to deal with Dad’s illness. I have no idea how we’re going to survive—how I’ll survive once everyone is gone.
He’s on stage five of Alzheimer’s disease, or maybe six. I don’t know anymore. My father has trouble remembering anything that has happened to him or around him. He leaves the house when we’re not watching. He can’t recall his phone number or address. We’ve been lucky that the police have found him every time, but fear that one day we won’t be so lucky. That we’ll lose him and find him dead in a ditch.
Two days ago, when Mae told him Mom had died, he cried so much. He said that the love of his life was gone. Maybe they did love each other in their own strange way. But today we had no idea what to do.
“Where is your Mom, Pria?” he questioned earlier as he looked inside the home-office. “And why are you here so early, honey?”
As I opened my mouth to re-explain to him that Mom died, Maeve shook her head.
Later I agreed with her. Until he dies, we’re going to pretend Mom is somewhere else. As of right now, I officially hate my life. For a moment, I close my eyes and go back to that place inside my mind where I live a different life; I’m someone else having the cookie-cutter special. I fidget with the old guitar pick. My eyes open and I’m ready for another round of this sucky life.
Dad stayed at home during the funeral. Mrs. Crowley, our next-door neighbor, kept a watchful eye on him. He sat on his yellowish recliner and watched his old recordings of Law and Order. Those keep him settled for a few hours without him getting agitated about our whereabouts. While I paid for her services, Maeve took Dad away. In the past months my sister has moved from being the one cared for to caring for our parents. Sweet irony.
“That was intense.” I turn around to find my fiancé fixing the knot of his tie. “I’m glad you didn’t pay for a caterer and have a big, fancy reception.” Robbie slips on his jacket. Great, he’s leaving. “The funeral was enough, don’t you think?”
No, but we don’t have the money and you didn’t let me take any from our mutual savings account. I hold my tongue. My independence stops when it comes to him. Years of savings went into the down payment of a house I can barely afford. Half of my earnings go into my part of the mortgage payment. The other half split between my parents’ medicines and their house. Then there’s the savings account we have to keep for our future. Overall, half of the time I’m broke. My business card reads:
The Image Studio
Ana Walker,
Owner-Director
My salary screams entry level. I don’t have many clients, and some pay me only when they can, like Robbie.
“In this poor economy, you can’t expect net thirty days to be net thirty,” he told me a year ago. “We have employees. Why don’t we move in together and save some money? We can buy a house.”
Sucker. I fell for that and I still receive the checks from his company fifteen to forty days late. Owning my own business isn’t glamorous. My medical insurance sucks. I can’t add my father, and now that Mom has died we don’t have a way to cover all his expenses. The government insurance only covers so much. It can only get better. After all this crap, nothing else can possibly go wrong; unless Mae’s health starts declining. Then I’d consider hanging myself because I can only take so much. I order my inner voice to shut up and grab hold of myself. Mom wouldn’t be happy with my attitude.
“Are you coming home tonight?” His question makes my jaw drop. Can’t he see how my family is crumbling? “You’ve been gone for almost a month and we have a ton of shit to discuss.”
“You could stay.” I stare at Robbie, my eyes pleading for him to make an exception, to stay with me tonight. He remains still, watching, as if he’s waiting for me to release him from the burden of being at my parents’ home. He hates this house, the stench of death. The house smells like a hospital. We have an entire closet of cleaning supplies that Mom stole from her former job. “Maeve and Dad need me.”
My eyes plead to his hazel lights to stay. I remain expectant that he’ll utter the words my heart needs to hear tonight, but he doesn’t.
“I understand they need you, babe.” He finally breaks the silence and shifts those reluctant eyes toward the door. “When do you think you can go back to work full-time? I’ve been covering your part of the expenses for the
past two months.”
Work! He’s more concerned about the expenses?
Mae hates him. She calls him Perfect Pete. We started dating during my junior year of college. A few months after, I realized that living in a fantasy world for the rest of my life was as healthy as Mom’s rules. I had to break one and learn to live with the other. We had taken a slow approach and moved in together last year. He proposed right after I got back from Hawaii. I remember the day I called Mae with the news.
“You’re going to be Pria Perfect.” Her laugh deafened me and it lasted for ages. “Well, Mrs. Robert Clark Smith. Pria Smith, that’s boring.”
“Ana,” I reminded her. “Only you guys call me Pria. That’s such a stupid and ridiculous nickname. Maybe when I marry, I’ll change my name from Cypriana to just Ana Smith.”
“It is not my intention to hurt you, but I’m not thrilled about the person you’ve become and who you’ll be once you marry that guy.”
Mae’s important to me, but her opinion didn’t matter. Mom approved of my relationship from the beginning and looked forward to my nuptials with Robbie ever since I finished college. She had hoped I’d marry at twenty-two and have my first child at twenty-four. Grandchildren. She wanted them bad. Freaking Robbie took his sweet time. Now Mom’s never going to meet her grandchildren.
“Monday, Robbie. Mae and I need to figure out what we’re going to do. She can’t take care of Dad all day.” I scratch my head, wondering if I should remind him that his company hasn’t paid me in the past two months. “Talk to your accounts payable department. They owe me two checks.”
“Max?” One word with so many meanings. Why would he ask about our dog?
I bought Max last year, after I read that Without A Compass was taking a break. That guy I met back in college wasn’t as crazy as I thought. Jacob Decker, better known around the world as JC Decker, became a famous musician. The hot front man, who every woman in the world fantasizes having their clothes ripped by. Twinkle-eyes he called me, and some nights I too, fantasize about him, but in a “together forever” kind of scenario. There’s an old song of his, “My Twinkle Eyes”, which I like to think is mine. Our little connection was that Golden Retriever named Max—if I couldn’t have Jace and the upgraded family package, I could at least have the dog—and the guitar pick he gave me after spending a week with him.
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