by Monica Cole
Transpire
By: Monica Cole
Copyright © 2015 by Monica Cole
All rights reserved.
Cover photography: Katie Opris, Katie Opris Photography, http://www.katieopris.com/
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or other locales is entirely coincidental.
~ For anyone who took their broken parts and made something beautiful. ~
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Prologue
Past
March 23, 2012
Parker is irritated. No. Irritated is an understatement. He’s pissed. And he never gets pissed. Especially with me. My head feels uncomfortably heavy as I turn to look at him, hands clenched around the steering wheel, his jaw tight. I really can’t blame him. Most brothers would be irritated if they received a phone call in the middle of the night from their drunk little sister, begging to be picked up from a party where they weren’t supposed to be at in the first place. So yea, I get why he’s irritated. Pissed off even. At the moment, I’m kind of pissed at myself for drinking so much.
As we pull up to a stop light, Parker glances in my direction. His light gray eyes that are so similar to mine scan my face, silently asking for some explanation.
“Talk to me, Elaine,” he says, much softer than I anticipated.
The light turns green, and he continues driving, patiently waiting for me to start. I’ve sobered up enough to have a conversation. Problem is, I don’t know if I want to.
I lean my head back against the headrest, not quite sure what he wants me to say. Another wave of nausea sweeps through me, and it’s all I can do not to vomit all over the floor of his new F-150. He bought it right after Christmas, and it still has that new car smell. I like new car smell. I really hope I don’t throw up.
The truck slows down as we approach another stop light, and I’m surprised when he throws it in park, unbuckles his seat belt, and turns in his seat to face me. If it weren’t for the fact that it’s two in the morning or that we live in a small country town, I’d be concerned about being parked in the middle of the road. Instead, I focus on my brother’s face, void of any anger that was there just moments ago.
“Talk,” he orders, handing me a half empty water bottle from the cup holder.
I uncap it and take a small sip. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me why you were at that party after mom specifically said you couldn’t go.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes as I finish off the bottle.
“Do you hear yourself? You sound more like my dad than my brother right now.”
“No. I sound like a brother who actually gives a shit about his little sister’s wellbeing,” he says irritably. He drags a hand through his light brown hair before letting it rest against his head. “This isn’t like you, Elaine, sneaking off to parties, getting drunk. What if I wouldn’t have been here? What would you’ve done? Gotten some drunken idiot to drive you home?”
“I’m not that stupid,” I argue, appalled he would assume something so ridiculous, but honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done.
Niki, one of my acquaintances from school, invited me to the party, and once I snuck out, graciously offered to pick me up at the gas station on the end of our street. Then we got to the party and… Tequila. So much Tequila and the next thing I knew we were both wasted beyond the point of driving ourselves home. Now that I think about it, I’m lucky Parker decided to come home from college for Spring Break, otherwise I most likely would’ve passed out in the middle of a stranger's floor or been forced to walk the six miles back to my house, both of which could’ve ended badly.
Parker releases a heavy sigh and looks at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Getting drunk and having me pick you up is pretty stupid, Elaine. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you back there? A drunk, defenseless girl in a house full of high school guys….. if anything would’ve happened…”
“But it didn’t,” I say, cutting him off before he can go any further. “Nothing happened.”
“This time,” he corrects, "nothing happened this time, but what about the next time? What about when I’m not here to bail you out of a dumb decision and you have to deal with the consequences on your own? What then?”
I draw my leg up to my chest and rest my forehead on my knee. I feel sick again, but this time it’s not the alcohol. It’s his words. The truth. It was stupid to sneak out. To disobey my mom just because I was angry she wouldn’t let me go. It was stupid to drink so much and unfathomably stupid to think I was invincible. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It should be my middle name.
“Look,” he breathes, staring out the windshield where the light turns green then yellow. “I’m sorry…”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to be sorry,” I whisper. “You’re right. I’m sorry I called you. I shouldn’t have snuck out, and I definitely shouldn’t have drunk so much. Seriously, I will never touch another drop of Tequila as long as I live.”
Parker chuckles softly, the sound filling the cab of his truck, “Famous last words.”
He reaches for his seatbelt, and even though he hasn’t said anything, I know all is forgiven. It doesn’t take much with Parker. He’s one of the most forgiving people I know.
“And I’m not mad at you for calling. I’m actually more upset at the thought that something could’ve happened to you tonight and I wouldn’t have been there to stop it.”
He looks at me, his eyes full of concern. “I just want you to be careful. Like I said, this isn’t like you. I know things between you and mom have been rough, but acting out like this isn’t the way to solve those issues. She loves you. We both do. Just remember that.”
Without giving me a chance to reply, he puts the truck in drive and waits for the light to change.
“Hey.”
I glance over to find him staring; both hands perched on the wheel.
“I’m sorry that sometimes I sound more like your dad than your brother. It’s not intentional. I just care about you. You and mom are the most important people in my life and ever since dad walked out, I made a promise I would watch after the both of you.”
Tears prick the back of my eyes, but I nod and quickly blink them away.
“Hey,” he says again, reaching over to tap me under the chin, “you know I love you, right?”
I roll my eyes, and he grins.
“I know. But don’t get all emotional on me, or I will blow chunks.”
He makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, and if I weren’t actually about to throw up everywhere, I might find it humorous that I’ve grossed him out.
The light
finally turns green, and we start across the intersection. Parker turns up the music and Blink-182’s “I Miss You” is playing from his iPod. I lean my head against the window, blinking rapidly, sleep weighing heavily on my eyes. Parker looks at me from the corner of his eye and smiles. It’s the last thing I see before my vision is flooded with light. And then…nothing but darkness.
Chapter One
It’s strange how two years can feel like an eternity. Like I’ve been living life in slow motion, treading the same ground. Two years. That’s how long it’s been since I left home and went away to college. Two years since I’ve seen my mom or brother. Two years since my heart was ripped out of my chest by the one person I never thought would hurt me. Two excruciatingly empty years. And today, I’m finally going home. I’ve put it off long enough. The dorms at the University of Tennessee are open year round which has allowed me to stay here during summers and holidays. Originally that was my plan for the summer. Work part time waitressing at a bar downtown and spend the rest of my spare time lounging around the dorm room, binge watching Netflix.
But then my brother called. We don’t talk on a regular basis. It makes it easier for me to stay gone because I feel sick amounts of guilt when he calls. But it also makes it harder because Parker and I used to be so close and now…Now I don’t know what we are. Even though he’s never insinuated it, I feel like he’s mad. Mad that I left town without a proper goodbye and mad that I haven’t come back to visit. I know I’m mad. Mad at myself because I know it was selfish, but at the time, it had seemed like the best decision. Still, there have been plenty of times when I regretted it. Or maybe I just regret the way I did it. Leaving my family behind, barely keeping contact with them.
It’s for that very reason that I’m hesitant going back. I left on my own terms but I still feel like an outcast even though Parker was the one who called, asking if I would come home for the summer. I wanted to say no. And almost did. But he sounded so hopeful and if my heart weren’t already in splinters, it would have shattered all over again. So I said yes and have spent the last week in a state of panic. When my best friend Whitney found out I was going home, she was ecstatic. We’ve been friends since the second grade. Grew up in the same town and, like all best friends should get to do, we went to college together.
Whitney has tried countless times to convince me to go home with her, telling me a bunch of crap about how I need to quit hiding from my past. She might have a point if I was actually hiding, but it’s not that simple. The past has attached itself to me. Possessed me. It’s something I wish I could hide from because it would be a lot easier than dragging it around with me all the time.
“Almost there,” Whitney sings songs from the driver’s seat.
Her Volkswagen Jetta speeds past a sign on the road reading Alden- 3 miles and the knot in my stomach tightens. We’ve been driving all day, seven long hours that have my legs feeling permanently cramped. We’ve stopped once the entire trip and that was only after I threatened Whitney I would pee in her car if she didn’t pull over. She’s in a hurry because her older sister Jenna had her baby two days ago, and she’s dying to see her new baby niece. I’m glad she has something to look forward to because I’m dreading the moment she pulls up in front of my house.
“Would you quit looking so sullen?” Whitney sighs exhaustedly.
Taking my eyes off the road, I roll my head to the side and look at her. Unlike me, she is so put together. Floral sundress, dirty blonde hair curled around her shoulders and her make-up is flawless. I, on the other hand, was lucky to find a pair of clean shorts to wear this morning.
“I think it suits me,” I answer flippantly.
She hits the blinker as we merge off the highway. “Well, you’re wrong. You’re too pretty to go around sulking all the time.”
I force myself not to scoff at her comment. I’m not unattractive by any means, but pretty is something I rarely feel when I know how ugly I am on the inside.
She must read my thoughts because she says, “I’m serious, Elaine. You’ve had that same sad expression on your face since you agreed to come home. Are you not even a little excited to see your mom or Parker?”
I don’t have to think about her question. After all this time, I am a little ready to see Parker. But my mom. She’s a different story. Our relationship is complicated. We haven’t been close since I was sixteen, but I take the blame for that. Once I got to high school, I turned into your typical rebellious teenager who wanted nothing to do with their parents. Mom and I started fighting and it was a daily occurrence. Parker had been our mediator. The peace keeper. But then he left for college and things got out of control. I started sneaking off to parties, getting drunk, and doing poorly in school. Unfortunately, it took something that flipped my entire world upside down for me to realize how stupid I had been acting.
I take in a shallow breath as Whitney approaches a stop light. We’re getting close to my house, and I can feel panic squeezing around my lungs.
“Elaine,” Whitney snaps her fingers in front my face. I swat her hand away. “You need to focus. Otherwise you’re going to have a panic attack.”
She’s right, too. I’ve been on the verge of one all week.
I rake both hands through my hair, letting it fall around my face. “I’m trying. I’m just nervous as hell.”
“You don’t have anything to be nervous about. Parker is probably off the charts excited to see you.”
“And my mom could care less that I’m back,” I add.
“That’s not true and you know it. Just because you left doesn’t mean she stopped loving you.” She slams on the brakes, before almost barreling through a stop sign. She sighs and faces me. “Look. You’re going to get through this. And when you do, you’re going to feel silly for acting like it was such a big deal in the first place. I know this is hard for you. Coming back to this town after what Can…” She stops herself and I’m thankful because I can’t even begin to think about him right now.
“Sorry. It's just that I want you to enjoy your time here. You need to be with your family. You need to enjoy a summer around people because you’ve spent most of the last two years cooped up in our room and working at that dingy bar.” She exhales, her green eyes pleading. “So can you please, please, please try to be happy? I need my best friend to be happy.”
She gives me puppy dog eyes, as if it has the same effect on me that it does on her daddy. “That doesn’t work on me,” I tell her, dropping my feet from the dashboard. “And fine. I’ll try to be happy.”
She grins triumphantly, “Good. Now put a damn smile on your face.”
I stare at her until she “brake checks,” and I jerk against the seatbelt so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t slice me in half.
“Smile,” she repeats sternly.
I smile, but only because I love her so much.
Looking out the window, I realize where we are. I spot my house at the end of the street, one of the few that have the outside lights on. Time seems to speed up and before I know it, the car zips into the driveway of my small, one story brick home. I feel sick again, but not the kind of sick I’ve felt the whole car ride here. I wonder if it's homesickness, because I have this weird urge to run inside and see if everything looks the same way I left it.
“Remember, you can do this,” Whitney unclicks her seatbelt and wraps her arms around me. When she pulls away I feel better. Like I can actually do this.
“Call me later and let me know how it went, okay?”
I climb out and grab my belongings from the backseat then lean down through the open window.
“I’ll try. I’m exhausted, so I’m planning on passing out early.”
She taps her pink nails on the steering wheel, staring me down. “As long as you spend more than five minutes with your mom and brother first. Sleep can wait.”
I stick my tongue out and she waves goodbye. I wait until her Jetta is out of sight before trudging to the front door with what little belongings I
have. I figured I just needed the important things. Phone. Laptop. A few pairs of clothes since I’m sure Parker wouldn’t appreciate me lounging around the house with no pants. When I reach the door I pause. This is it. The moment I’ve agonized over for a week. The moment that hasn’t stopped torturing me the entire seven hour drive here. The moment I knew I’d inevitably have to face but will never be ready for.
I shift my bag on my shoulder and grab the knob, twisting it slowly like I’m in a horror movie. Which, it kind of feels like I am because I’m nervous about what’s on the other side of this door. Actually, I’m downright terrified. My heart racing, I push the door all the way open so I can squeeze through with my luggage. The living room is empty but Psych is playing on the T.V., so I know Parker has to be home since it’s his favorite show. I drop my bag and laptop on the middle of the floor and kick off my shoes, my eyes scanning the room to find that not a single thing has changed.
Our living room is small but cozy, with just a worn out couch and a set of recliners. There’s a coffee table with ring stains, and the flat screen T.V. sits on a matching table. There are still pictures on the wall. All of them are of me and Parker when we were younger. As I walk closer, I catch sight of the one I hate the most. I think I was five and Parker was seven or eight. We’re wearing matching Christmas sweaters with Rudolf noses that when you squeezed them, they would light up and play "Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer." Parker had made fun of me, because my own nose was beet red from the cold, and told mom I didn’t need to wear the sweater because my nose was already glowing. I’ve loathed the picture ever since.
The memory is interrupted when I hear a noise behind me. I immediately know who it is, but when I turn around and see Parker coming out of the kitchen, my heart actually throbs in my chest. It’s a foreign sensation. One I haven’t felt in so long, I was positive my heart had stopped beating all together. We continue staring at each other, uncertain of what to do next. My first instinct is to rush over and hug him, but I can’t seem to make myself do it because things aren’t how they used to be and I don’t want to react the wrong way. He’s just a few feet away, holding a bowl of ice cream which is so typical that if I weren’t about to cry, I’d laugh. The emotion on his face is so raw and I feel it. Like the sting of cleaning out a wound.