The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set)

by Phoebe Alexander

  I would have been polite, Abby typed back. You know you’re the one who dumped me.

  Remembering the circumstances surrounding the painful dissolution of their relationship caused tears to erupt and cascade down Abby’s cheeks. And like she heard the tears from the other room, Mia was there in a flash. Her hearing was as profound as the dog’s.

  “God, Abby, what’s going on?” she asked, her face full of concern. “Your mom?”

  Abby shook her head. Mia grabbed the phone from her hand and scanned it. “Who’s Breanne?”

  “My ex,” Abby sobbed.

  “She saw us at that party?” Mia asked. “So what? We weren’t there that long. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you about her,” Abby admitted. Meanwhile, Bree had typed: You sure don’t seem to be talking to me now.

  Mia still held the phone. She keyed back: Nope, I’m too busy fucking my girlfriend. Have a nice life! She handed the phone back to Abby. “Here. I took care of her for you.”

  Abby couldn’t help but smile, even through the dissipating tears. There was something very Rachel-esque about that maneuver, she suddenly thought. No wonder she and Rachel got along so well. They are both blunt and sarcastic free spirits.

  “So what happened with this Bree chick anyway?” Mia asked. She patted the bed next to her, inviting Abby to take a seat.

  Abby sighed. After all the drama of her mother and then the rigidness of her dad’s house with his girlfriend Bobbi passive-aggressively controlling the entire household, she was hoping for a nice relaxing night at Mia’s. All she wanted was a simple movie, maybe a rom-com, perhaps accompanied by ice cream and later maybe even a rousing round of 69. But no. She couldn’t seem to escape drama no matter how hard she tried.

  “Well, I met her when I was in a musical my junior year of high school. We got to be friends: her, me and her sister Brooke, who is a year younger than us. We all hung out, even after the show closed. They went to a different high school than me.”

  Mia nodded. She grabbed Abby’s phone again and started to look through the public photos that Bree had posted of herself on Facebook. She had not replied to the message that Mia sent on Abby’s behalf. “She’s um…very blonde,” was her assessment.

  Abby smirked. “Yeah, she said you were her polar opposite. That’s probably true.”

  “So how did you end up together?”

  “It was a long time coming. By the time she graduated, it was obvious things had changed between us, but she spent that summer as a camp counsellor someplace on the Eastern Shore and I hardly saw her. Then she started up at the community college in the fall when I was a senior. She came to my first play of the season and we started hanging out together. But it was just different this time. Her sister didn’t join us anymore, and it was usually just her and I. Then around Christmastime, she kissed me.”

  “Just like that, she kissed you?”

  “Well, yeah, I had made this scrapbook for her that had all these pictures from her senior year: ones from the show and from prom and all kinds of other stuff we did. I had wanted to give it to her as a graduation present, but I just never got my act together and we’d had a little falling out before then anyway. Once we were on better terms again, I wanted to show her how much she meant to me.”

  Abby remembered that night. They’d gone to DC to hear some band, and then Abby had returned to Bree’s parents’ house where she’d left her mother’s car. She had the photo album in the trunk and was waiting till closer to Christmas to present it, but she just couldn’t wait any longer. It was after midnight, and the Miller residence was dark and quiet, everyone having gone to bed. It seemed like a good time. They would have privacy.

  They sat at the kitchen table, a huge oak monstrosity, sipping cocoa and nibbling on Christmas cookies that Mrs. Miller had left out. When Bree opened the gold foil wrapping paper to reveal the album, her reaction was priceless. Big, fat, happy tears rolled down her face. “God, I miss those days,” she laughed through them.

  She went on to tell Abby that she hated community college and how she felt so disconnected from her high school friends. They’d all gone off to bigger schools and lived in dorms and were far away from their families and old lives. “And here I am stuck in this awful purgatory,” she’d said.

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t go to College Park like half your class did,” Abby admitted. “I don’t understand why you chose this path instead.”

  Bree had sighed with regret. “My grades weren’t great and I kept procrastinating. My parents didn’t want to pay for me to go to UMD until I could prove I could keep my grades up. I’m trying to transfer to UVA next year though. I’ve got a couple of friends there already. And my dad knows the field hockey coach. I might be able to walk on.”

  Mia forced Abby back into the present. “Okay, so you gave her the photo album, and she was happy and you kissed. Then what?”

  “Well, we just started dating. Like going out and doing normal date-stuff: movies, parties, dinners, holding hands. Except we didn’t really tell anyone we were more than friends. Neither of us thought it would be a good idea. So we were kinda on the down low.”

  “Okay? And you both agreed to that?”

  Abby nodded. “Yeah, it was kinda hot, really. I’d stay the night at her house, or she’d stay at mine, and no one was the wiser that we were having sex. Not that we messed around that much really, only a few times. And we didn’t even get that far until summer. But then –“

  “Then what?” Mia’s jet-black eyes were huge as she hurried Abby through the backstory to get to the juicy details.

  “Well, we went camping with a bunch of people on Assateague, which is this island over on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, about three hours from where we lived. And we were both a little tipsy sitting around the campfire. Next thing I knew, we were holding hands in front of our friends and cuddled up together and no one said anything. It’s like they all already knew. No one was surprised. And when we went to sleep that night, it was just us in the tent and it was the first time she went down on me. In the morning, she told me she loved me for the first time.”

  “Wow, okay,” Mia said. “So you had a slow start. Why did you break up? Because you were moving out here?”

  “We were hot and heavy for another month, all through July. And in front of our friends and everything. Then the worst thing ever happened.”

  Mia’s pierced eyebrow was raised with curiosity. “What’s that?”

  “A rumor started that Bree was only with me to get to this guy Mark Branham. Apparently he thought the whole lesbian thing was pretty hot, and she was letting him think that he was convincing her to ‘switch teams.’ Supposedly, she was just playing me to get to him, because she was pretty sure otherwise he wouldn’t be interested in her.”

  “What the fuck?!” Mia gasped. “Was it true?”

  Abby shrugged. “I confronted her, which took a lot of guts on my part. Bree was kind of…I don’t know…acidic? Maybe that’s the right word. She had an attitude and could be brash and arrogant. She never thought she did anything wrong. She denied it, of course. But then she said she just wasn’t sure she was really gay and was sorry if she wasted my time.”

  “Wow.” That was the only word Mia could muster.

  “I saw them together later that summer at a pool party. I had to leave, I was so upset.”

  “I can see why.” Mia pulled Abby close to her body. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I could never hurt you like that, baby.”

  “I know,” Abby smiled. “I know.”

  ***

  Sarah was still languishing. Going to see Dr. Kapoor had left more questions than answers as far as she was concerned. She knew she needed to reach through the thick murky layers of melancholy that had swallowed her whole.

  One thing that had not escaped her notice: Owen was growing into a young man. There were times Sarah only saw brief glimpses of the little boy he had once been. Most o
f the time he demonstrated either the snark of a teenager or the vocabulary and demeanor of an adult. And he could flip back and forth between the two in a lightning strike. But that night after the appointment when she and James sat him down in the quiet, still house to tell him what had happened with his gestating siblings, the little boy popped out like a jack-in-the-box.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, searching his mother’s face for a different truth than she was giving.

  “The babies died, sweetie. They stopped developing at nine weeks,” Sarah had explained. Mere days before she would not have been able to use the “D” word.

  “So they were just inside you dead? How did they get them out?” Owen had never been shy about expressing himself, even when it came to sensitive matters. When he was a bit younger he revelled in torturing his sister with questions about erections, homosexuality, fellatio and all manners of bodily functions.

  “I had a procedure where they go in and remove everything inside my uterus. It’s called a D&C,” she patiently explained.

  “Why?” he pondered as the emotions began to take root. The realization that there wouldn’t be twins born in June as everyone had anticipated slowly sunk in.

  “We don’t really know,” James took over the explanation, seeing that his wife was beginning to break down in response to Owen’s tears. “They’re running more tests, but genetically the babies seem normal so far. Their best guess right now is an issue with the placentas.”

  Owen was blubbering by the time James was finished speaking. Seeing her thirteen-year-old son break down tore Sarah’s heart in two. She hadn’t seen him cry this hard since he was eleven years old and their cat had died. She pulled him into her arms and held him like she did when he was small. Why didn’t we wait to tell everyone? she asked herself. I would have much rather bore this pain alone than to have my children suffer.

  Finally Owen broke away and asked, “Will you be able to try again?”

  James nodded without even looking at Sarah. We still haven’t discussed it, Sarah thought. He still hasn’t asked me what I want. On top of all the hurt and sadness, a bitter seed of resentment was starting to grow deep within her.

  The next morning, Owen came down to breakfast carrying his phone. “What are you doing” Sarah asked him.

  “I’ve been texting with Nikki,” he answered nonchalantly.

  Nikki was his stepmother. Sarah tried to suppress any desire to react. She said nothing but stirred stevia into her coffee. At least I can drink coffee again, she consoled herself. It didn’t feel like much of a fair trade, though.

  James had gone into work to take care of a few administrative tasks before the end of the year. Sarah remembered her first New Year’s Eve with him so many years ago now. She had laid on his bed and listened to him talk about his deployments. He’d shared some deeply personal and tragic stories with her, and she’d taken it all in. She fell in love with him so much more that night when some of his walls finally crumbled.

  “Mom?” Owen asked as he set his phone face down on the table.

  Sarah looked at him over the newspaper. “Yes?” For some reason, just hearing the title “Mom” stung at her that morning. She felt like her entire body ached from head to toe from all the barbs that had pierced her skin in the past two weeks. And they didn’t seem to be healing. Every morning they felt as fresh and new as the day she’d clutched her belly and demanded to be taken to the emergency room.

  “I want to go live with Dad,” he said meekly, as if he knew it would be a bomb exploding in her heart.

  Thirteen-year-old boys are not known for their altruism or empathy, and this Sarah realized. But she had thought Owen was a different creature, more highly evolved than the typical teenage boy. Way to kick me when I’m already down, she thought, scrambling for an appropriate response, or even any kind of response. She was trying to unstick the words that had gotten jammed in her throat.

  “Why on earth would you say such a thing?” she finally managed, and it came out much more judgmental and angry than she intended.

  Owen shrugged. He still had dark freckles on the end of his nose and across his cheeks that hadn’t faded with age as of yet. He looked at his mother through his deep, brown eyes, the ones that mirrored her own. He seemed as much of a boy in that moment as he had the night before when he’d wept over the loss of his brothers.

  Then he justified his response. “It’s just really fun and happy there. Sam is getting bigger and loves it when I play with him. And Nikki is home all day. Dad gets home from work and we have a big family dinner and then go play baseball in the backyard or go for a bike ride. I just really like it there.”

  Sarah felt the wall of tears moving in again like a storm front. How in the hell can I cry anymore? she wondered. How is it even humanly possible to produce this many tears?

  “Things are different here now that Abby is gone,” Owen observed. “I feel like I’m just in the way. I thought it might be different once the babies came but now there aren’t going to be any babies.” His voice trailed off until it was just a speck of dust hanging in the air.

  Sarah’s eyeballs felt as if they might burst out of her head from the pressure behind them. Her cheeks were hot and her head spinning. Her stomach was starting to get in on the act too, slowly beginning to churn with bile. “I just can’t,” she told him. “I can’t have this conversation right now. Please, just let me be, okay?”

  Owen picked up his phone and walked away from the table, leaving his mother sitting there, her head buried in her hands trembling with sorrow.

  ***

  Chapter Ten

  New Beginnings

  Abby watched the sun setting behind the mountains. There was a red rim of dying sun silhouetting the ridge closest to her dad’s house. She stood in front of the French doors that led to the back deck waiting to be called for dinner. Bobbi was making what she called “a special New Years meal” and it smelled rather unappetizing. Abby knew Bobbi would be offended if she didn’t eat it, so she was preparing her taste buds for assault.

  Elise had passed out on the sofa in the family room with The Little Mermaid, her favorite Disney movie, playing. Emma was sitting cross-legged on the loveseat playing a game on her handheld device. She was still bitter that she hadn’t gotten a smart phone for Christmas and had been in a snit ever since. The house was quiet. Abby wasn’t used to such a quiet house. When she and her brother were little, most of the time Rachel was over visiting so there would be two boys, Owen and Thomas, causing a ruckus.

  Abby was disappointed that they were having a special meal and Mia wasn’t joining them. She had considered asking if Mia could come, but she wasn’t sure if she could pretend that Mia wasn’t her girlfriend. She was sure she’d accidentally grab her hand or stroke her fingertips down her leg at the dinner table, giving it away. Just the other day, Bobbi had spewed out some vile bigotry about what an abomination homosexuality was in the eyes of the Lord. Abby had frozen in her tracks when she heard her tirade.

  Ever since Bobbi had started practically living at her father’s house, Abby had felt a disconnect between herself and Matt. Thankfully, Bobbi was not moving in. She didn’t believe in cohabitation before marriage. She just came over every night after work and stayed until she needed to go to bed. On the weekends she’d arrive around 10 AM and leave around 10 PM.

  Abby tried to be pleasant, but the woman was impossible. She yelled at Elise and Emma every chance she got. One Sunday afternoon, Abby had found Elise splayed out on her bed sobbing. She asked her sister what was wrong.

  “Bobbi says if I don’t get my room cleaned up, I’m not getting any Christmas presents,” the young girl whimpered.

  Abby pushed her younger sister’s matted blonde hair out of her blue-green eyes. “You’re in luck. It’s not up to her whether or not you get Christmas presents. It’s up to Santa.” She winked and smiled. ‘True story,” she added.

  Elise’s frown turned into a look of pure scepticism, then she bur
st into giggles. “Oh, silly, I don’t believe in Santa Claus anymore! I’m too old for that!”

  But the straw that broke the camel’s back was when Bobbi demanded that Emma go change her clothes because she found her skirt inappropriately short. Emma was built like Abby, petite with a boyish figure. She was wearing a skater dress with a flouncy skirt that rose several inches past the knee, but she was wearing leggings underneath. There was nothing inappropriate about it. It was the way all the girls Emma’s age were dressing.

  “There’s no way your father will let you out of the house like that, Young Lady,” Bobbi had added as Emma stomped up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door when she reached it.

  After Bobbi had gone home for the night, Abby tiptoed past her sisters’ rooms and knocked on her father’s door. He called for her to come in and she found him already in bed with a hardcover book by Glenn Beck in his hands. She wanted to roll her eyes, but managed to restrain herself, notwithstanding a few involuntary muscle twitches.

  “Everything okay, Abigail?” he asked. He never called her Abby.

  “Um, no, not exactly.” In a mere second, her body was flooded with adrenaline. She swallowed hard and reminded herself that this was important and she needed to be assertive.

  “What is it?” He gestured for her to come and sit on the chaise lounge opposite the bed.

  “I’m a little concerned about Bobbi,” she said. “I overheard her talking to Emma today and I thought she was overstepping her bounds.”

  “What did she say?” her father asked.

  “She made Emma go upstairs and change her skirt. And there was nothing wrong with it. It was a little short, but it wasn’t tight at all and she was wearing leggings underneath. It’s what pretty much all teenage girls are wearing these days.”

  Matt looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions and was weighing both sides against each other. “Well,” he finally said, “there’s nothing wrong with modesty. She just wants to help me raise fine young women.”