by Jessica Roe
Though if I'm being totally honest, Felicia isn't actually a bitch. She's an awesome, seriously loving mom. The kind that genuinely likes getting involved with the school and the town and is adored by everyone, and I don't have to wonder why, because she's a sweet person. She stays up all night baking cupcakes for school bake sales when one of the teams need to raise money, helps the older citizens with their shopping and housekeeping, makes personalized birthday cards for people she hardly even knows, and she still finds time to cook meals and keep the house clean and help the kids with their homework and do the other millions of things moms are supposed to do.
Sometimes I think if my mom had given me even a tiny fraction of the love that Felicia gives her kids then I would've been less screwed up.
Every now and then I watch Felicia. I watch the way she bustles about the house, dropping absent minded kisses on Lance's head as she vacuums or pinching Ila's cheek affectionately as they garden together or laughing as she helps Jemma pick out an outfit for a date, and I secretly wonder what it would feel like if she loved me, even just a little bit. The longing is almost too much to bear.
It makes me feel stupid and weak and I always hate myself so much afterwards that I feel sick to my stomach.
But still I wonder.
ILA SKIPS ON home after an hour for dinner but I stay and eat with Granny Yo. Dining across the table from Felicia and Oliver is just awkward so I try to avoid it whenever I can, even if Felicia's food is always delicious.
Not to mention that Granny Yo is determined to teach me how to cook. I tried to explain to her that I already knew how to cook perfectly well, but apparently microwave meals don't count. Whatever.
After a gross meatloaf inspired meal, I wash our dishes and we watch a couple hours of old Friends reruns. It's pretty late by the time I hear the unmistakable sound of Silver's Jeep pulling up outside. He and Nash must have grabbed dinner after their hiking trip.
“That's my cue to leave,” I acknowledge, climbing to my feet and stretching.
Granny Yo sighs but nods in understanding. She always seems so sad about our situation. I don't know what Silver has told her, though I'm guessing not a lot, but I'm pretty sure she knows.
I swoop down and kiss her cheek goodbye and scoop up my boots, dangling them from my fingers as I let myself out.
The bitter February wind hits me the second I leave and I immediately regret being too lazy to put on my boots. The ground is icy.
Silver is just climbing out of the Jeep when I hop down the porch steps. He falters when he sees me, and even under the dark night sky I can see him blush. It only takes him a second to regain control and then he smiles politely. “Hey.”
I hate how much I love him.
“Hey,” I call back, just as polite. See? We can do this.
But that's all we say, and I go to pass on by when my front door slams open across the street and a furious Felicia barges out. She's still wearing an apron and house slippers, but I'm pretty sure I've never seen anyone look so terrifying, and I've seen knife fights. Plural. There's just something so utterly frightening about an angry mom.
I freeze as she storms, storms, towards me, steam practically rolling from her ears. “Felicia-”
She slaps me across the face, so hard my ears ring.
“Whoa!” Silver cries, hurrying over. “Mrs P, what the-”
With a sharp finger pointing at his face, she hisses, “Don't you even think of defending her!” She turns back to me. “You told Ila about drugs!”
“You did what?” When I glance at him quickly, Silver stares back at me with his lip curled in disgust. The awfulness in his expression makes my mind go blank and I forget to defend myself; he's never looked at me that way before.
“My eleven year old daughter. My child!” Felicia hollers. She's so loud that curtains are twitching all over the cul-de-sac. Being caught in the middle of a scene would normally horrify her, but she's clearly way beyond the point where she gives a crap. “What is wrong with you, you stupid little bitch?”
“But I didn't-”
“Isn't it enough that you're a hopeless screw up with no future? Do you have to try and ruin my children too? What were you trying to do, encourage her? My God, after everything we've done for you! I let you into my home! How dare you?”
Something must have gotten lost in translation here. That happens with kids all the time, right? They tell their parents stuff but it comes out wrong. Ila must have told Felicia about our conversation and Felicia got the wrong end of the stick, that's all. As soon as I explain this, everything will be fine. “Felicia, it's not what you think. I-”
But she won't let me speak. “You're no better than your drug dealing, whore of a mother.”
“Mrs P, calm down, you can't say things like that.” Silver says something else but I don't hear him over the blood rushing through my ears. Her words hurt me more than any physical blow ever could.
And now she isn't the only one who's pissed beyond reason. A part of me is angry because she insulted my mother, but mostly it's because she insinuated that we're the same. I am nothing like my mom. Never have been, never will be, and it seems every time I'm finally ready to let her go, someone thrusts her back in my face. I'll never be free of her.
My boots drop the the ground as I clench my fists. I haven't been in anything close to a fight since I've lived here but suddenly violence is running through my veins like a drug. Oh, the irony. I want to hurt Felicia just as badly as she's hurt me. I want to make her bleed. I want to pound my fist into her face again and again until there's nothing left of her. And I am so close. The one tiny thread of control I'm clinging to is fraying dangerously. If not for Silver still watching me in horror I might have already done something I'd seriously regret later—though the immediate satisfaction would be immense.
I'm not even sure why Silver is the key to keeping me calm; he's not even on my side.
Before anything else can be said, or yelled, my dad's silver Mercedes screeches around the corner and comes to a halt right in the middle of the street. The headlights blind us all for a moment before the car cuts off. Oliver jumps out and at first I assume Felicia must have called him home from his business dinner and he's here to scream at me too, but I realize there must be something else going on when I see how pale he is.
By this point, my toes are numb with cold.
“Get the kids out of bed and get in the car,” he instructs Felicia tersely. He's shaking but his voice is firm.
“Oliver, what on earth-”
“Imelda's father just called me—Jemma's in hospital!”
No!
Felicia gasps and I swear my heart drops right out of my chest and breaks into pieces on the ground below me. I already know, without Oliver even having to tell us, what's happened. I really thought Jemma had listened to me the other night. This is all my fault. Why didn't I say something to someone? To Oliver? God, even to Felicia?
“What happened to my baby girl?” Felicia begs frantically, gripping the front of Oliver's shirt. “I thought she was sleeping over at Imelda's house?”
“She was. They snuck out to a college party. Imelda's parents are at the hospital with them now; Imelda called them. She's okay—very drunk, but okay.”
“But what about-”
“Jemma took drugs. Apparently a kid at the party said she got them from...” He finally realizes that I'm standing there, and his eyes narrow in fury. “She got them from you!”
I'M FLOATING UNDERwater. The world around me is dark, murky. I can hear voices but they're muffled, muted to my dull senses. People are shouting—Oliver, Felicia, even Silver—though I don't hear what they're saying, it's just noise. But then, I don't need to hear the words, the disgust and rage on their faces says it all.
“I didn't...” My voice trails off, echoing inside my own head. Something inside me has broken. I can't form words, can't form a defence against this attack. My will is gone, my fire extinguished. I'm dying inside.
A voice behind me shouts out, reaching me, and I break the surface of my watery prison. “Stop this!” she screeches, and I turn to watch Granny Yo hobble down her porch steps, tears in her eyes. “Stop this right now! How can you say such things? How can you treat Blair this way?” She reaches out and touches my wrist, a show of solidarity and comfort.
But no one is listening to her, not even her own grandson.
“We should call the police!” Felicia snaps tearfully. Her shaking hands are tugging at the ends of her hair in distress. “If Jemma... If she ...I swear I'll call them!”
More shouting. Granny Yo tries to talk but they cut her off, again and again and again and she's getting frustrated. The way they're all just ignoring this sweet old lady and her shaky, desperate pleas infuriates me more than anything they could have done or said to me.
“Go to hell!” I explode, my voice hoarse. Felicia, Oliver and Silver all stop talking. “God, just...go to hell.”
That was probably a mistake. Now their hatred of me has just been justified.
Oliver shakes his head, dismissing me. From his life, I guess. “You're done here,” he says scathingly, confirming my thoughts, and then he tugs Felicia by the arm towards the house. “We don't have time for her,” I hear him say as they rush. “We need to get the kids and go.”
I stand frozen and alone. How has everything gone so wrong?
My cold feet have passed the numb stage and are aching, but I make no move to put on my boots.
Behind me, I hear a repentant Silver trying to comfort his grandmother.
It takes Oliver less than a minute to hurry back out, a sleepy and confused Lance wrapped up in a blanket in his arms. Felicia follows, pulling Ila behind her by the hand.
“Blair,” Ila calls out, stretching an arm towards me like she wants me, but Felicia quickly tucks her in the car next to Lance. Once the kids are safely inside Oliver turns back to me and thrusts something into my chest and lets go. I reach up and grasp it before it can fall. My birthday cheque.
“You're eighteen now,” he says gruffly. “An adult in the eyes of the law; old enough to take care of yourself. Take this money and be gone by the time we're back from hospital.”
“Oliver, I didn't give Jemma-”
“Don't!” he cuts in sharply, and then he climbs inside his car and drives away without once looking back.
Words fail me as I watch them go. The big, empty void that used to live inside my chest, the one I thought only my mom could create in me, is opening up again. Growing, consuming me.
“Blair...honey?” The voice makes me jump. I'd forgotten Granny Yo and Silver were still there. Holding out a hand to me, she silently begs me to take it. She knows, knows what I have to do now. “Don't you leave, they'll see sense.” Granny Yo believes in me. She's the only one that does, but it means so, so much to have someone on my side. Unfortunately, not enough.
“Grams, she gave Jemma drugs,” Silver tries to point out, breaking my heart all over again. “She brought this on herself.” He crosses his arms across his chest and glares at me. I'm so sick of people glaring at me. “I can't believe you did this. Was everything you ever said to me a lie?”
I shake my head silently, hot tears burning my eyes, yet to be spilt. When will I wake from this nightmare? I was so close. So close to graduation and college and...God, so close. I should have known it would all go to hell; girls like me don't get to live their dreams.
Granny Yo slaps Silver across the cheek, and though I doubt there was any real strength behind it, it comes as a shock to both of us. “I have never been so ashamed of you, Silvester.”
“Grams!”
She ignores him and reaches out for me again. “Blair-”
“I have to go,” I choke out, unable to look at either of them. I don't know who I am right now. What happened to the girl who took not crap, who defended herself with her fists and never let anyone kick her down? This town has changed me, made me soft. I'm pathetic and I've never quite hated myself as much as I do right now in this moment.
I grab my boots off the ground and run towards my house—Oliver's house, when did I start thinking of it as mine?—and ignore her when she calls after me again. I despise myself for ignoring her, but I know if I let her try, she'd manage to convince me to stay. I can't let that happen.
I race up to my room and pull out my ratty duffel bag. I'd foolishly thought the only time I'd ever have to use it again was when I packed up my stuff for college. With vigour, I grab everything I own—though only the things I paid for with my own money—and stuff them inside. It hurts, but I leave the camera Jemma and Nash got me for my birthday on top of the bedside table.
Downstairs, I drop Oliver's cheque in the kitchen. I didn't want his money back then and I sure as hell don't want it now. All I want is to be gone from here—this house, this town, this suburban world. I want to go somewhere I can forget it all, forget Fortune. Forget I had a family and friends and a future, forget that I ever fell in love with a guy who was always going to be too good for me.
Back outside, I sling the duffel in Nancy's trunk. Across the street Silver has managed to coax Granny Yo up onto their porch, but she is visibly upset. She cares about me so much that she's hurting for me; I don't think anyone has ever cared that much before, not about me. Silver comforts her with quiet words, too low for me to hear.
I open Nancy's door but before I climb in, my cell rings. I hesitate to answer it until I see that it's Zac. How could I have forgotten about Zac? He's the one person sure to hear me out.
“Zac, I-”
“SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR SISTER!” he roars down the phone.
Dread seeps in. “I didn't give her anything!”
“They were right about you,” he carries on, like I never even spoke. In the background I hear car horns blaring and I figure he's probably driving recklessly in his desperation to get to the hospital. “They were all right. I wish you'd never moved here. You're not my sister and I sure as hell hope I never see you again, because I swear I won't be held responsible for what I'll do.”
He ends the call and I howl in pain and fury, hurling my cell to the ground. The satisfaction of seeing it smash to pieces lasts only a second. Across the street the murmuring stops and Granny Yo and Silver are watc my violent outburst in silent shock, their mouths hanging open.
Well good. Let this be the last image of me they see. I've walked on eggshells around every single damned person since I got here and I'm done. That phone call was it, it scraped away the last little bit of decency inside of me. I'm dead inside, just like I used to be before I came to Fortune.
So I do what I do best, I act like a bitch and ignore the crying old lady. With a cheery salute, I climb inside Nancy and get the hell out of dodge.
TURNS OUT MY tough girl resolve didn't last all that long.
Yeah. I'm crying.
I really hate that I'm crying. I hate that I let people in enough that they have the ability to make me cry.
These aren't even small, graceful tears. No, they're full on red faced, snotty nosed, bleary eyed sobs. It's getting difficult to drive.
I try to convince myself that they're purely tears of fury, but I can't lie, not when the only person here I have to lie to is myself. These are tears of pain, of turmoil; I'm hurting so, so bad.
I'm hurting because I lived with my father for six whole months and he still doesn't believe in me, he still doesn't care about me.
Because I've lost my little brother and sister and I love them so, so much. Much more than I thought possible.
Because Zac doesn't want me to be his sister any more and that's just...heart shattering. And God only knows how Nash feels about me now.
Because I'm scared as hell about Jemma and I was such a freaking idiot that I broke my phone and now I have no way to find out if she's okay.
Because I'm homeless and now I probably won't graduate high school or go to college or do anything with my life.
Because of the look on G
ranny Yo's face as I drove away.
And because of Silver. Most of all because of Silver. Because he immediately believed all those awful things about me and that means he could never really have cared about me at all. And that just sucks.
I have no idea what I'm going to do now, where I'm going to go. I can't call my friends because I don't have a phone. Not that I'd call them anyway—Kip or Ibbie or even Eli. They'd believe me, I know that for sure, but I don't want to be that kind of burden. Not that it matters—I don't want to stay in this town.
I have a little money saved up from working at Merry Fairburn's that I'd been planning on using for college. I'll leave town, maybe head back to Chicago. I know Fen will let me stay with her for a while until I've saved enough for a place of my own. Maybe I could even get a GED. Yeah, this doesn't have to be such a bad thing.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I'll even start believing in it.
Whatever the hell happens, I'm getting out of this damned town.
Eventually my tears get so heavy I have to pull over before I crash.
It takes a while, almost fifteen minutes, but I finally manage to calm myself. I do some breathing exercises to fend off any approaching panic attacks but that brings on a whole wave of fresh new tears when I remember the way Silver comforted me dressed as Abraham damned Lincoln.
Awesome, now I've romanticized panic attacks.
A flickering light ahead of me catches my attention and I realize I've pulled up just down the road from the bar I went to with Silver the night I met his flirty friend, Nathan.
I didn't try last time, but I bet it's the kind of place that doesn't bother to card. It's definitely seedy enough. It's been a long time since I've used alcohol to burn away my pain, not since the months right after my mom's death, but God, I could use a drink right now. A hard one.
Winding down the windows—manually, because yeah, Nancy is old—I breathe in the icy February air, welcoming the chill on my overheated face. I smooth my hair and apply a serious amount of eye liner, hoping to distract from the puffiness, though it only makes it worse. Hopefully it will be too dark in there for anyone to notice the evidence of my tears.