I felt faint. I couldn’t listen anymore. I went into the living room and saw a slew of torn-up tabloids. Each of them had something about Eden Sank on the front cover. I knelt down to pick them up, and I saw a picture of Everett and me; we were hugging and smiling. I remembered taking this particular photo, and how it really made me happy to know it was still out there. Then I saw the caption:
Bea Morrison suspected to have had relationship with Everett Thompson, pictured above.
The picture had been taken from Everett’s official Instagram page, and I was wondering what gave them the idea that we had been in a relationship. Only a few people knew about it, and I didn’t know of anyone who would rat me out to the press. When I heard Ben hang up the phone and open his office door, I tried to make it look like I wasn’t reading the tabloids he had torn up and left on the floor. I went upstairs, passing right by him without a word spoken between us. After my morning routine was complete, I changed from my pajamas into some warmer clothes since it was beginning to get chilly outside.
Autumn was coming, and the summer heat was beginning to wane. I decided to have a day to myself and left the house without another word to Ben. I looked around town, taking notice of my new surroundings. It wasn’t New York City; it was something entirely different. When I came across a little tearoom, I decided to stop inside and grab some much needed food. It was small and quaint with its blue painted siding and white shutters on the window. It had the greenest grass on the front lawn that was marked off by a white picket fence.
I entered the yard, walked up the front porch, and entered. There seemed to be a lot of people here eating their lunch. I was hoping no one would recognize me. Sitting down, I heard whispers of Eden Sank and my last name circulating around me. I tried to ignore it, but when I heard the familiar sound of an iPhone snapping a picture, I turned and looked to find a group of teenage boys dressed in sweater vests and cardigans. Just a bunch of preppy kids that wanted to look cool. I did my best to ignore them, since I didn’t really want to cause a scene. The last thing I needed was more attention, but it was hard. Once I ordered my food and began sipping on my drink, it was obvious that these kids weren’t going to quit taking photos. My irritation was quickly escalating. I decided to try and reason with them after they made it obvious with their sneers and their unnerving laughter that they wouldn’t stop taking photos of me anytime soon. When I approached them I counted at least five boys, all in their preppy country club attire with the latest iPhone sitting in front of each of them. I had little faith in them before, and based on appearances I was losing faith quicker than before.
“Please delete those photos you took of me.” I must have startled them; when they saw me at their table they didn’t do anything but act like they had witnessed Jesus’ resurrection.
“Can you please delete those photos of me? I don’t appreciate you taking photos of me without my permission.”
“What if we don’t want to delete them?”
“Look, what are you even going to do with those? Delete them. Please?” The group huddled together, as if they were consulting each other about what move to make next. Doing this they left their phones unguarded. I took the nearest phone and when they noticed, they became outraged.
“C’mon, that ain’t right. Give him his phone back,” one said.
“Delete every photo you took of me, and maybe I will.”
“Maybe? Bitch, you’re crazy!”
Of course, this did nothing to calm me down and the ruckus summoned the manager over. The police were called, because of course, why wouldn’t they be? Soon enough I was in the city jail waiting for Ben to come bail me out. Of course the preppy brats had made bail before I did and I was sure the story was now hitting various news outlets. This was not going to end well for me at all.
When Ben met me in my cage (okay, jail cell) he looked like he couldn’t be any more disappointed. The police released me with only a stern look and Ben didn’t speak until we got into the car.
“Did you destroy their phones?”
“Every last one.”
“SD cards too?”
“Demolished.”
“Good. Don’t do it again.” I looked at him with surprise and shook off the feeling of shock and tried to prepare myself for the worst to come out of his mouth next.
“You need to do something. You can’t stay at the house all the time doing nothing productive.”
I couldn’t bear to argue with him again. It weighed too heavily on my heart to do so. “What do you propose I do then?”
“Talk to the one person you trust and will listen to. Because you don’t trust me, and you refuse to listen.” I knew who he was talking about. He was only wrong about one thing: I barely listened to anyone other than myself. And lately, I hadn’t followed my own advice very well. Maybe if I called Splinter, he’d help me find a way out of this rabbit hole I was falling into.
***
“So, what are your options?” he asked after we had talked about almost everything except the problem I was having.
“School, work, or drop dead.” He didn’t laugh at my joke.
“Right. School or work. What do you want to do the most?”
“I don’t even know Splinter. I just want to do something.”
“I get it. What do you love the most?”
“Well…” The obvious was music. But did I want a career out of that?
“Okay, obviously wrong question. What are you most passionate about?” Again, the answer was music. It was the one thing I ever truly knew.
“Damn, do you not know anything except what your brother taught you?” He knew me too well.
“I guess not.”
“Perfect. Go to community college. Find something that speaks to you. Get away from him.”
“What are you saying? Run away again?”
“No, I’m saying you should move out.”
“What about Dartmouth? I worked hard to get into that school!”
“Yeah, but is it really want you want?”
I didn’t say anything because we both knew the answer.
“There’s a community college in Hartford, Connecticut. Far away without being too far. Apply, do something with yourself. Stay with Ben until you can afford a place of your own and then move to Connecticut.”
I sighed.
“What is it, Bea?”
“I feel like I’m betraying my brother. I don’t want to leave him again.”
“Well, from what you were talking about earlier…”
He didn’t finish his thought because I knew what he meant. I had been complaining about my brother’s attitude toward me. It had changed so drastically I didn’t know what to do with myself in order to keep him happy. To be fair, I didn’t think there was anything I could do to keep him happy. Splinter was right about this. I had to do what was right for me, even if it made Ben unhappy. For whatever reason, I kept thinking he wouldn’t like my new choice even though everything he did suggested he wouldn’t care. Sometimes the people who seemed like they didn’t care cared far too much. For once, I was hoping I was wrong.
***
During family therapy it was only Ben and me. Mother was doing therapy at the hospital, and we hadn’t visited her yet. I was beginning to wonder when we would, but I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be any time soon.
“Bea, you told me you had something you’d like to tell your brother.” Ben looked at me expectantly, and I tried my best not to shrivel up inside.
“I’m going to school in Connecticut. I’ve got a job, and I start tomorrow. Once I make enough money, I’m moving out to be closer to school.”
The therapist nodded approvingly toward me, and now we were waiting for Ben to react or respond.
He reclined back in his seat. “You’re leaving me?”
“You told me to get a job or go to school. I’m only doing what you asked me to do.”
“I never asked you to leave!”
“You never had to as
k! You made it obvious that I wasn’t welcome!” We began shouting at each other to the point our therapist had to blow a whistle to silence us.
Once the session was over, we rode home in silence. It wasn’t a comfortable silence; it was a sort of silence that made you want to jump out of the moving car to get away from it. It made it impossible to say anything, but staying silent was worse than dying. That’s how I felt in that car. Once we stopped at a red light, I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car, slammed the door shut, and wove through the traffic to get onto the sidewalk. Ben didn’t seem happy about it, but once the light turned green he sped off.
I sat at a patio table that was placed outside a little flower shop, and I tried to avoid crying. I knew people could recognize me even with the shortened hair, and it seemed like no matter what I did they would snap pictures of me.
I found myself looking around at all the people walking by and having a good time, wondering if they had tweeted about seeing me, or if they were taking pictures. It drove me insane. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. After a few deep breaths and a nice brisk walk, I found myself back at Ben’s house, and I was able to sneak back in without another word. He was yelling on the phone again, but this time I heard multiple voices yelling back. He must have been arguing about the band, and I knew not to bother him. I went up to my room, slammed the door shut, and waited until it was acceptable to go on about my day.
I had found myself walking around on eggshells with him lately; losing the band was a battle for him and it was taking its toll. He hadn’t told me yet, but I was sure he knew I wasn’t oblivious. It was plastered everywhere, and soon enough the band would issue a formal statement to solidify any rumors made about them, and to bring down everyone as gently as possible. I didn’t want to make him talk about it, but it hurt me. He was breaking up something that wasn’t broken. I could only wish he would see that. However, he was pretty oblivious. It would take the second coming to make him see that. If we were only so lucky.
***
Work had kept me pretty busy the last few weeks. When I was in my room at Ben’s I took the time to look through my classes so I could finalize my schedule for school. When I heard a knock on the door, I didn’t bother looking up from the screen. I was totally invested in the choices I had to make. Each choice cost hundreds of dollars and then some. It was tough to pick and choose when that much money was involved.
“Come in,” I finally said when I heard a second knock due to my delayed response. Ben entered, and he looked either drunk or extremely sleep deprived. There was a good chance he was a bit of both. Things hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing for us lately. Putting his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the doorjamb.
“When do you start school?”
“August 30th,” I told him. It was currently June.
“Dang, alright. What’s your work schedule look like?”
“It’s picking up.” Being a cocktail waitress at a college campus club had its ups and downs. It was right before the beginning of the fall semester, and people were beginning to trickle in, making more business for the bar and more tips for me. However, Ben never once asked about my work schedule. I told him when I was leaving for work and gave him an approximate time of when I’d be back, and left without another word to be exchanged. So his question filled me with concern.
“Why? What’s up?” I finally took my eyes away from the computer, and focused them on him. He looked worse than I had originally thought. Only glancing at him couldn’t possibly give me the full devastation that he was composed of.
“I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.”
“You made it clear you weren’t going to help me. So I’m helping myself.” I looked up at him, and he appeared sad.
“What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?” I asked. Something wasn’t right.
“Yeah, she’s fine. I’m fine, there’s…there’s just a lot of stuff going on.”
“Yeah, well, once you issue that statement telling everyone the band is through, I’m sure it’ll get easier.”
He had turned around momentarily before stopping dead in his tracks. “What did you say?” he asked in a dangerously quiet tone.
“I said, once you tell the mass of fans that kneel at your feet that you’ve given up on Eden Sank, it’ll get easier.”
He turned around, and I knew I had stepped into hot water. This was something that would create an argument that no whistle could put to an end.
“You think this is easy? That once I say it’s over it’ll be easy to move on?”
“It must be, considering how easy it was to leave me behind after you started the damned thing.”
“What are you talking about?”
Anger filled me to the point I was seeing red.
“How dare you!” I sucked in a deep breath and let it out with the broiling words. “You don’t remember? You don’t remember how you tried to sneak out unnoticed and then when I caught you? You handed me an envelope of money and basically said, ‘I’ll be back, I’ll never leave you, not really. This should be enough until next time. I love you, sis, take care,’ and then you never came back!” I was laughing like someone who was deranged and ready for the kill. I was filled with anger and turmoil.
“You made that stupid promise you made up and it meant nothing in that moment. The only reason I even came back to you was because you said you needed me. I did that for you. What are you doing for me?”
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he slammed my bedroom door shut so hard that it rattled and echoed through the halls. When duty called, he was nowhere to be found. When he cried to me, begging for help, I was there. I took a bullet for him and I didn’t believe he would do the same for me. The gauntlet had been thrown. There was no going back now. My words would play again and again in his head, and his betrayal would replay in mine. I didn’t think I could live without him before, but now I realized that I could, though it was something I was going to have to learn I needed to find out what kind of person I was without him, without Mackynsie, and without all the media telling me who I was. All of these people and things had defined me for so long, I had forgotten how I used to define myself. It was time I found out, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready.
However, as my therapist said: “When you realize there’s something, that’s the starting point to change it.”
So now that I realized I’d let people and things define who I was, I was going to change that and learn and decide what defined me. Just me. No one else could do this, only I could.
I added a creative writing class, a psychology course, and college level algebra to my school schedule. I didn’t know if this would help me figure out what I wanted to do, but I felt that maybe it was a start. Because really, all I needed to do was start. From there anything could happen.
CHAPTER FOUR
After months of working as a cocktail waitress, I made enough tips to move to Connecticut in time for the beginning of the semester. However, I decided not to move so quickly. I still needed a car, and paying for school had depleted my funds. I was headed to freshman orientation and to attend a luncheon with some faculty and students. Summer had ended all too quickly, and with the release of Eden Sank’s new album came the official breakup letter. The boys moved on from one another, though Ben promised they were still friends.
After many trips from Hanover to Hartford, I knew exactly how long it took to travel. It took three buses from Hanover, New Hampshire to get me to Hartford, Connecticut. I had done it plenty of times. I had gone to campus and got through mountains of paperwork, had my photo taken for a student ID that I wore around my neck, and I even acquainted myself with the staff. Now I stood at the school’s entrance and I didn’t know if I could take a single step further. The anxiety was swelling up inside me and making it hard to move, to think, to breathe. It wasn’t until a rude passerby shoved me that I forced myself to move forward. I had to do this. I had to. I had to keep moving, and if I kept moving I’d be
okay. But once everyone’s eyes were on me, I could feel myself shrinking.
“Bea Morrison?” someone called out.
I kept moving with my head down, and I could hear the snapping of videos and the buzzing voices of excited fans. I didn’t want to call them fans because I wasn’t someone who should have fans. I wasn’t famous. If I was, it was only by association with my brother. Not to mention Everett.
Oh god, Everett.
Everything began to fade around me, and when someone got up in my personal space, taking a video, I shoved them away and ran into the nearest building, completely falling apart at the seams.
“Someone come help this girl!” I heard someone shout. When someone came up to me, I backed away hesitantly.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. What’s happening?”
“Everyone…everyone is out to get me.” I didn’t know why I said it, but it made sense. It felt right. It felt true.
“Everyone out there?”
I nodded. “They’re taking photos, videos too. They were following me and calling out my name.”
“What is your name?”
“Bea Morrison.”
The woman tried not to act so surprised at the mention of my name. “Come sit down. Let’s talk.” Once we were seated, I was given a bottle of water and a pack of crackers. I tried to sip and chew quietly while the girl who was supposed to be comforting me stared at me.
“So, I know this isn’t appropriate, but—”
“Yes, I’m the Ben Morrison’s little sister.”
She sighed. “You get that a lot, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “It’s my fault.”
“How? You didn’t get to pick him as a brother.”
“I chose to go public about our family. I chose to become a public figure.”
Warning Signs (Broken Promises #2) Page 3