Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1)

by Kelly, Hazel

  “Were you even listening?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”

  Courtney had that glorious buoyancy that most young people have. I think it comes from believing you're the center of the world and that your happiness is a serious topic of interest to everyone.

  Or maybe it just seemed that way since she was paying me to listen to her talk about herself.

  Regardless, it made sense for her to be my last appointment because it was also hers, and I liked closure when I could get it. After all, if I’d learned anything in my time as a counselor, it’s that real closure is far too rare. Like an rare bird that forever eludes most people.

  And since I was about to go off seeking adventure and anonymity, I liked the idea that I wouldn’t have loose ends. At least with one person.

  “So how do you know?”

  Shit. I guess I wasn’t listening. I made a thinking face to buy myself some time and berated myself for daydreaming on other people’s dollar. It was just as well I was retiring because I’d become too distracted to be as professional as the job required.

  “I mean, surely you’ve been in love before?”

  Love? Love! Of course. “Sure.”

  “So how did you know?”

  “Well, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but there are a lot of different kinds of love.”

  Courtney rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “Maybe you could start by telling me why you think this might be the real thing?”

  “Well, I cooked for him the other night,” she said, “and I’ve never even wanted to cook for a guy before. Like I touched raw chicken for this guy, ya know?”

  “That’s a pretty big step.”

  “I thought so.”

  “What else?”

  “He asked me to meet his parents.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Sounds serious.”

  “I know. I’m pretty nervous.” She twirled a lock of hair. “I really want them to like me.”

  “I’m sure they will,” I said. “And the fact that you care what they think is another good sign that you’re into this guy.”

  “Well I know I’m into him, Dawn.” She leaned against the armrest. “I just want to know what to look for in case- in case it’s more than that…”

  I nodded. “I understand.”

  “And I’m not naïve, either. Like I know it’s not an exact science or anything.”

  “Right.” My eyes flitted up to the clock. My counseling career was over.

  She saw me check the time. “Well? True love? How is it different? How will I know? I’d be really grateful for any parting advice.”

  There it was. My last chance to try and help someone. “You’ll have to trust your gut when the time comes.” I took a deep breath. “But I’ll give you the best advice I can.”

  She scooted to the edge of her seat and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

  “The reason true love is special is because not only does it fill you up and make you feel good like other love, but it gives you purpose.”

  “Purpose?”

  “Yes. Purpose.”

  She put her chin in her hands, causing her mess of gold bangles to slide towards her elbows.

  “You’ll know you’ve found it because it will feel like it’s too big to hold inside, and you’ll have to open yourself up to make room for it.”

  “Purpose,” she repeated to herself.

  “It changes you for the better,” I said, rising to my feet. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

  She stood up and pulled her shirt down over her hips. “Thanks Dawn.”

  “You’re a smart girl, Courtney. You’ll know when you know, okay?”

  “Okay.” She gave me a hug and the smell of her Clinique Happy reminded me what it was like to be young and think the big questions had right answers. “I hope you enjoy your trip or your early retirement or whatever.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I watched her walk to the door. “Courtney?”

  “Yeah.” She swung her hair over her shoulders as she turned back to me.

  “If he’s not the one, don’t worry about it, and don’t give up. Love is never wasted. It always comes back to you.”

  She smiled, nodded, and closed the door behind her.

  After she left, I sank back into my leather chair for the last time and wondered if any of the love I put out was still making its way back to me.

  Cause if it was, I sure wished it would hurry.

  Chapter 23: Kate

  I never should’ve taken the weed from Kevin.

  Initially, I declined the two modest “nugs” he offered me when I left his house. After all, things were going really well with him. And even though he’d been a complete gentleman, I didn’t want to feel like I owed him anything. Like I always felt with Ian. Though God knows why. Cause he was popular and paid attention to me? How pathetic.

  But then Kevin said I’d be doing him a favor because he had to get some stuff done after I left. He assured me that his “guy” was coming by to give him some more later anyway so it was really no big deal.

  Plus, I thought it might help me relax. And when I was relaxed, I didn't feel the need to binge and purge. So as far as I was concerned, getting high was good for me. Medicinal even.

  So between not wanting to seem ungrateful and liking the idea of having my own stash, I agreed.

  Of course, as soon as I pulled into my driveway, the paranoia kicked in. I’d never come home that high before. I pulled down the mirror over the wheel. My eyes were totally bloodshot. I reached for my sunglasses to see if they might do the trick, but it started to sprinkle.

  My only hope was that my parents weren’t home, and I crossed my fingers while the garage door went up. But when I saw my Mom’s car, I started to hyperventilate.

  I dumped my half pack of smokes out on my lap and shoved the weed into the bottom of the pack. Then I jammed the cigarettes back inside, and tried to stick the whole pack in my bra. But I was at least two cup sizes too small to get away with that. It looked ridiculous.

  I dumped the cigarettes out again and shoved the small bag of weed into my bra on its own. My hands were shaking as I stacked the smokes back in the box. Then I chucked them in my backpack. I figured if my Mom searched me, I could sacrifice them.

  When I walked in the door, I said hi and tried to sound really chipper. Then I pulled my phone out before I left the laundry room so I would have an excuse to keep my eyes down.

  My Mom was standing at the counter sorting bills and coupons like she usually did when she wasn’t busy giving me grief.

  “Did you put your keys on the key rack?” she asked without looking up.

  “Oh, no. My bad.” I turned around and headed back into the laundry room.

  ‘Putting the keys on the key rack’ was her new cause. Ever since she’d found the empty vodka bottle, she’d made it her business to make it impossible for us to hide anything in our cars. Of course, everyone knew this rule was more for me than Chris. The only surprising thing about his car was how clean he kept it for a teenage boy.

  I felt good as I hung my key on the rack knowing full well there was nothing in my car that she could find. But my stomach dropped to the floor when I looked up and saw her staring at me from the laundry room doorway. I hadn’t even heard her follow me. She was like one of those silent ninja cats.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Look at me.”

  I tilted my head up.

  “You smell like a reggae concert.”

  I didn’t even know she knew what reggae was.

  “And your eyes are completely bloodshot.”

  “Really? Oh my god,” I said, feigning surprise. “I hope I don’t have pink eye.” I pretended to move past her like I wanted to look in the bathroom mirror.

  “Stop right there,” she said, placing her hands on the door frame. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I was born yesterday?”

  Even though I was pretty
stoned, I could tell that these were hypothetical questions. Which was good because I don’t think she would’ve liked my answer to either of them.

  “Listen to me carefully, Kate.”

  I watched the vein in her temple and tried not to breathe on her. Which was difficult because she was completely in my face.

  “If you weren’t so high, I’d kick you out of this house right now. Do you understand?”

  I did not incriminate myself further by nodding.

  “If you are using drugs, you are not welcome to live here anymore.”

  Her finger was so close to my face I had to cross my eyes to look at it.

  “If you want to throw your life away…” Her voice was shaking so bad I thought she might put her hands around my neck. “I can’t stop you.” She shook her head. “But I am not going to let you poison your little brother. I am not going to make him live with a user.”

  I felt outside myself. A user? She was completely misreading the situation.

  “Do we have an understanding?”

  I nodded.

  “Go to your room,” she said, moving so I could walk past her.

  I closed my door loud enough that she would hear it downstairs. Then I opened it quietly and tiptoed to the top of the landing. I knew she would call my Dad right away, and I wanted to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

  By the time my Dad picked up, the anger in her voice had intensified even further. She could be so dramatic. I’d gotten high, not joined a gang for crying out loud.

  “Fred?”

  I knew my Dad was anti-drugs, but he was also less reactionary than she was. Maybe he would talk some sense into her so she didn’t do anything irrational.

  “No, everything is not okay. Kate came home- drove home- and she’s as high as a kite… Of course, I’m sure. Dawn used to look exactly like that… Please. She tried to pretend it was pink eye…Yeah… Yeah… I’m positive. I could smell it… I don’t care."

  I couldn’t breathe. She’d never sounded so disgusted.

  "What about Chris?… Uh-huh… Uh-huh… Well I can’t do it anymore… I've tried, honey. You know how hard I've tried, and I can’t control her… No… I know…"

  I wish I knew what my Dad was saying, but the best I could do was hang on my Mom's every word.

  "This is the last straw for me… I agree. I don't think we have a choice anymore. Nothing else has worked… The important thing is that she gets her diploma… We’ll find the money… She could start second semester there…"

  What? Find the money? Start second semester where?

  "I know it’s not ideal, but we have to do what’s best for everyone… She’s putting other people at risk, though, not just herself… Of course, I see what you're saying… But someday she would understand… Okay… Okay… See you soon… Drive safe, honey. The rain is really coming down now… Love you, too.”

  I crept back to my room, closed door, and stood with my back against it. I knew I had blown it this time. My Dad couldn’t stand up for me now that drugs were involved. Speaking of which, I pulled the tiny bag of weed out of my bra and stuffed it in my pocket.

  A flash of lightning lit up my room and a few seconds later the house shook with thunder.

  I wasn’t a bad kid. I wasn’t that wild. But I was being selfish. It was selfish of me to fuck up my family’s life. Everything I did made them uncomfortable: the drinking and the eating disorder and now the pot on top of it.

  Not only did they think I was crazy, they thought I was dangerous. No wonder they wanted me out of the house. They were just waiting for me to screw up big enough that they could justify sending me away.

  And where to? Boarding school? Somewhere with corporal punishment? Maybe they’d even found a place that specialized in girls with eating disorders. Like one of those places where everyone is sick and you aren’t allowed to go to the bathroom by yourself.

  I mean, even though my life felt like hell a lot of the time, at least it was a hell I was familiar with. There was no fucking way I was going to switch schools or get shipped off. No. Fucking. Way. I wasn’t Chris, sure, but I wasn’t a maniac either. Just because my Mom couldn’t handle me didn’t mean I needed to go to a special school. And in the middle of my senior year?!

  I pulled an empty duffel bag from the back of my closet, put it on the bed, and started filling it with my things. It wasn’t really a strategic operation. I put my teddy in first along with a picture of me and Chris from his eighth grade graduation. Then I grabbed two fistfuls of clean underwear, a pair of jeans, and a few school uniforms. Finally, I scraped everything off the bathroom countertop into a makeup bag, threw it in, and zipped the bag shut.

  I looked out the window. The sky was black, and it was raining so heavily it felt like my bedroom was going through a carwash. I wished I could’ve waited for the storm to pass, but I had to leave before my Dad got home. It was the only way I could buy myself the time I needed to think of something, something that would change their mind.

  I considered my options. I couldn’t go to my girlfriends’ houses. My Mom would call them first. Ian’s wasn’t really an option. He wasn’t my boyfriend, and even if he was, I’d never be able to stay overnight there. Same went for Kevin’s. He would want to help me at least, but he already had a full house.

  I didn’t need much, though. Just a room somewhere safe. Where my parents wouldn’t find me right away.

  And where I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone but myself.

  Chapter 24: Dawn

  Everything made me think about it. Everything.

  Even seemingly unrelated things like watching my Pepperoni Hot Pocket as it went around in circles. All of a sudden, I took a step back and just stared at the glowing metal box and thought oh my god, what if the microwave had something to do with it?

  People were always going on about how microwaves and cell phones could give you cancer. What if my getting sick was less about the incessant smoking habit I picked up in my teens and more about my lifelong affair with Easy Mac?

  Could I really be sure that processed, powdered cheese was totally faultless in this situation? Perhaps not. Then again, maybe some mysteries weren’t meant to be solved. After all, while quitting smoking was an uphill battle, quitting cheese would be impossible.

  Of course, I know I shouldn’t have been eating Hot Pockets anyway. I should’ve been piling my plate high with organic veggies, legumes, and complex carbs. But all the dishes were clean. So it didn’t make sense to cook.

  I ate my soggy Hot Pocket on the couch and listened to the storm. For once, I took my time and didn’t burn my mouth on the molten cheese. Which was bittersweet. Because it was further proof that right when it didn’t matter anymore, I was finally starting to grow up.

  The storm was frighteningly loud, but I liked it. It took my mind off Snarls being gone. I was glad that Courtney had agreed to take him. It would be good for her mental health. Hopefully she would be attached to him long before she realized I was never going to come back and get him.

  It was awful saying good-bye. Though probably harder for me than him. Cats are so resilient, far more resilient than people. I’ve never heard of a cat feeling inadequate or making excuses for not reaching its potential. Seems to me they’re happy as long as they can scratch, sleep, and sniff in relative safety. They don’t fill their heads with impossible longings.

  Then again, they get nine lives.

  And here I was only getting half of one. Or three in cat years.

  I threw my greasy paper plate in the garbage and checked my list again.

  I was completely packed. Except for my toiletries which I could slip in just before I left. My small suitcase was sitting by the door. On the table I’d laid out my passport, a sticky note with my flight confirmation number, and an envelope with some cash in it. It was enough to cover the taxi to the airport in the morning and a little extra. The travel agent told me they use American money in Ecuador so I wouldn’t even have to find an atm right a
way.

  I already had a booking at a hostel in Quito near a nice restaurant called El Diablo Rojo where they play live jazz music. After that, my plans were wide open.

  I gave Tina my spare house keys last week. She said she would check in on the place from time to time and would await further instructions.

  I also made her cosigner on my bank account so she could cash my money out if something happened. Or more accurately, when something happened. It was nice to have a friend that wouldn’t flinch at my paltry lifetime savings. If I died, I knew she would do with it what I’d asked.

  Which reminded me.

  I went to the ceramic rooster on top of the fridge and scooted the white envelope out from underneath it. The fat letter felt heavy in my hands, probably because it contained the most important words I’d ever written and never said.

  It was already sealed because I was afraid if I read it again, I might lose my nerve and not leave it. I turned it over in my hand and smoothed my finger along the seal once more. Then I put it on the mantle under a picture of me and Carol in the red wagon.

  A crack of lighting lit up the room and made me smile. A severe storm was such a drag in the concrete jungle. All it did was flood the streets with dirty rainbow bubbles of tar and grease. But in the rainforests of South America, it would probably be invigorating. A storm would give life to a whole host of plants that would do wonderful things for my lungs. Which was good. They would need all the help they could get in the coming months.

  I opened the window and sat on the window sill where I could watch the light show. As the sound of the storm filled the room, I lifted a cigarette to my lips.

  I was about to light it when the buzzer rang. Then, just when I’d convinced myself I imagined it, it buzzed again.

  I walked to the door of my apartment and pressed the intercom. “Hello?”

  “Aunt Dawn? It’s Kate.”

  My chest tightened. I pressed the button to buzz her in and opened the door.

  I could hear wet footprints squeaking up the stairs. When I saw her face peak around the corner, I felt my throat close up.