I cringed. Had she completely lost her mind?
Mark puffed out his chest, nodding in agreement. I wasn’t convinced he agreed in light of Megan. After a quick assessment of his reaction, seething, I turned to Mom.
“Why would you do that? You know how I feel!” I sprang to my feet. “You can’t pull me out of school now! I only have three weeks left!”
She held up a palm with pleading eyes. “Listen. I talked to your principal. She said we can work it out. You’ll still graduate early.”
Recoiling, my cheeks burned. “You called her? You haven’t even talked to me!”
Mom said something, but I didn’t hear what. I didn’t want to hear her. Traitor. She’d sided with her parents—turned her back on me. Blood rushed my ears. Her lips moved some more, a muted jumble of words. I clenched my teeth.
Don’t speak. You’ll regret it, Elsie. Horrible thoughts ran through my head: Fuck off—I hate you—I’ll run. Run now! Sprint as fast as you can!
Mom paced back and forth, intentionally blocking the front door. Moments of silence passed. She spun and locked her eyes on mine.
Run, the voice said.
“Don’t.” Mom’s tone was full of warning. She knew me too well.
Run, it said again.
“Elsie,” Mark huffed. “Come on, now. Don’t be stupid.”
Stupid? Run! The voice screamed.
I pivoted, sprinted to my room, and pushed open the back door. Jumping off the steps, I dashed across the yard toward the abandoned house. Blinded with fury, I darted to the left, pushing through the thicket alongside the road. I broke through the dry brush into a forest of cedars, needled branches weaved a dense web above, filtering out the light. Within minutes, I rounded the back of the house, moving through the weeds to the cracked brick sidewalk. I yanked the back door open and quietly pulled it shut behind me. Heart accelerating, pounding clear to my throat, I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut.
I couldn’t look at her. I had to run.
I opened my eyes, squinting to adjust to the darkness. The two-story house was shrouded in an overgrowth of scotch pines, oaks, and sycamores. I reached for my back pocket. Damn it, no phone. I froze and absorbed what light I could, listening in the darkness. Nothing but the breeze stirring the leaves outside, rustling the rickety old house. Silhouettes began to reveal themselves: the door frame, a dark hallway, the edge of the kitchen counter. Bearings in check, I moved forward, feet crunching dirt and rubbish covering the floor. When I stepped in the kitchen, I quickened my steps, turned left into the living room, and made a beeline to the Victorian couch. Inhaling the smell of red dirt and the musty upholstery, I hugged my knees to my chest, buried my face in my arms and cried.
Betrayed. Mom hadn’t even talked to me. I wasn’t a child. A pain of guilt stabbed me.
I’d just reacted like a little brat, though. Damn it.
My whimpers disturbed the silence in the room. I didn’t like the sound. I coughed and let out a low growl. Sucking in a deep breath, I straightened.
A muted, golden glow flashed in the window at the far end of the room, then quickly faded as a car drove around the curve outside. As time moved on, the traffic outside became more intermittent and then eventually stopped. It was late—well after nine. Mom would freak out when I went home. My stomach rolled. I still couldn’t will myself to move from the couch. Hugging my knees tighter, I’d barely moved a muscle for hours.
Creeeeaaak... I flinched. What was that? Sitting upright, my ears tingled at the sound of soft footsteps moving through the house. Mr. Smith’s grimacing leer flashed in my mind. Fear rippled through me. A beam of fluorescent light illuminated the doorway to the living room. I curled tighter, peering over my knees.
All six-foot-two of him stepped through the entrance.
Tyler.
He held up his cell phone, brightening his sharp features. My heart leapt.
“Tyler!” I jumped to my feet and ran into his arms.
“Elsie—” Trembling, he hugged me tight, then gently pushed my head back, and kissed me. Slow at first, tender, longing, his desire uninhibited as he parted my lips, kissing me deeper. I melted into his embrace, exhilarated to feel his touch, the smell of his woody scent, the way he said my name, voice laced with fear. For a brief moment, I forgot that I’d run. He brushed his face against mine, rough stubble grazing my cheek.
“I’ve been worried sick about you,” he whispered.
How did he even know? He was supposed to be on his way to Indianapolis.
He let me go and stepped back. My elation to see him dwindled within seconds. He ran his fingers through his hair, dark eyes ominous in the glow of the cell phone’s flashlight. I took an equal step back, defenses rearing from the serious look on his face.
“What are you doing here?” I asked apprehensively, unsure if I wanted the answer.
“I’m here to illustrate what a promise looks like.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You promised,” he stated with an underlying tone of accusation. “You swore you wouldn’t do this again. And you have. I promised to keep your hiding place a secret. And I have. Which one of us is right?”
Another step back, I cocked my head to the side. “You condescending asshole.”
“Oh. That’s nice,” his voice low, laced with contempt.
I had to watch my mouth. I’d say awful things under pressure. Not only did I run and hide, I had a tendency to be like a wild animal backed into a corner when someone found me. I had no idea why I reacted that way, no reasonable justification. A genetic flaw, I suppose. And in the past, Dad had been the one person who could persuade me to calm down.
Glancing at Tyler, I sat down on the couch, dust billowing from the worn cushions. I coughed and waved my hand in the air.
Tyler walked slowly toward me as he focused on his phone, texting.
“There,” he said. “Claire knows you’re alive.”
He set the phone on the coffee table. The flashlight cast a bluish-white halo on the ceiling and elongated shadows crept across the floor. Tyler’s eyes looked even darker in the dim light. The windows rattled, a cool draft cut through the stale air. Shivering, goosebumps rose on my skin. He sat down at the opposite end of the couch, stretched out his long legs, and draped his arm across the back. I glanced at him. Unshaven, I’d never seen him with a light beard – sexy as it was – and he was wearing a light-blue button-up laid open with a white T-shirt underneath. He made me ache inside. His dark gaze met mine. My heart skipped.
Sublime. He’d break me if I looked at him any longer. I turned and stared across the room. This wasn’t his concern. I felt violated, like he’d listened in on a private conversation. How did he even know I’d run?
“Did Mom call you?” I asked, staring forward.
“No. I called you. She answered in a complete panic. When she told me you ran, I drove out of the airport parking lot and headed here.”
“That’s insane Tyler,” I said, irritated. “Tomorrow’s Nationals. Why would you do that?
“We’ve already covered that. The answer I’m dying to know is, why would you do this?”
“I’m pissed! She wants to move.” My heart accelerated, and I spoke faster. “I didn’t get accepted to MCA, and I’ve had a horrible day. Sorry, this has nothing to do with you.”
“What-the-fuck-ever,” he stated. “You lied. And I’m starting to wonder if this is a defense or a genuine problem.”
I whipped my head toward him and glared. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Lying.” He let the word roll off his tongue.
“I am not a liar.”
“You lied to your mom for six weeks.” He spoke like a lawyer drilling a witness. “You broke a promise. You didn’t tell me about your dad’s death. Not exactly a blatant lie, but could be classified as one of omission.” He glanced at his watch. “I have twenty-five minutes before I have to leave. I’ve already rescheduled my flight to Indy. What exactly do
you propose?”
“I didn’t ask you to come here.”
“I didn’t say you did.” The room went silent. I pushed my hands through my hair, staring at the dusty floors. He took a breath and continued, “If you’ll run and hide from them, what are you going to do to me when we have problems? That will happen. Everyone has problems. Are you going to run—hide—lie? I’ve been asking for you to trust me,” he sighed. “Maybe I’m the one with trust issues.”
“You think?” I pitched my voice higher, confirming my sarcasm. He let his head fall back with obvious annoyance. I tensed and quietly said, “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Mm... ” a cavernous hum rose from deep in his throat. “Maybe not today, but what about in six months—a year? Hell, how about in fifteen years? Will you decide to run then?” He paused, and then he said with a pleading voice, “Reassure me... please.”
I wanted to explain, but the words stuck in my mouth like peanut butter fixed to my palate. The resentment I felt toward Mom and now him overrode all logic. He waited. I leaned forward and rubbed my palms together. Even his gentle appeal couldn’t cut through the force field of anger shielding me.
Another huff from the opposite end of the couch. “It will never work between us if I have to guess what’s on your mind. Please. Tell me.”
“This is bullshit.” I stared at my hands, unwavering from my stance. “I’m here because I’m pissed at Mom. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Beyond disrespectful.”
Motherfucker. Another jab.
“Much obliged, Mr. Vaughn,” I exaggerated a Southern drawl, while fluttering my lashes. “Forgive me for being so forward. A lesson in my manners is always a pleasure.”
“I’m not kidding.”
I slumped back on the couch. “What do you want from me? Another promise? Are you keeping track of my fuck-ups?”
“Can’t you see how much this hurts everyone? Elsie, help me understand!”
Tears filled my eyes. “I just can’t go home right now. I needed time to think.”
“You can’t go to your room? Shut the door, and have your ‘time to think’ where everyone knows you’re okay?”
I pressed my lips tight and said nothing.
“Why are you shutting down like this?”
“You called me a fucking liar.”
“No, I didn’t. I was merely making a point. Elsie, I love you. But you’ve got to grow up.”
“Get the fuck away from me!” I yelled.
He recoiled, a pained look crossed his face. “You are completely irrational right now.”
I lifted my eyes to his. “Fuck off.”
His lip curled into a cold scowl. Slowly standing, he grabbed his phone from the coffee table. “You know what? Fuck you,” he said in a low, contemptuous tone. “You know your own way home. I suggest you go back.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. His footsteps moved further away. Moments later, the screen door slammed on the other side of the wall. I imagined him walking across the overgrown lawn.
My arms and legs shook with fury. Fuck him. I’d stay on the couch until I died.
The muted slam of a car door. I opened my eyes to the yawning void of darkness. The low hum of his Mercedes purred to life outside. My blood ran cold, panic surged through me.
What had I done? I jumped to my feet. No, no, no, no! Don’t leave. Oh God—no!
I sprinted across the dark room, grabbed the threshold to the kitchen, and spun into the hallway like a slingshot. Don’t go!
I burst out of the screen door and turned right in the overgrowth toward the forgotten driveway. Just as I rounded the corner of the house, his silver Mercedes sped down the country road toward Morris Chapel. Sprinting forward, I stopped at the asphalt. The full moon reflected off his rear window, its silver back end shimmering in the cool light before the car rounded the corner and disappeared behind the hill.
The hum of the engine echoed through the calm evening until the purr ebbed, leaving only the sound of the wind rustling the leaves and a distant mockingbird singing in the moonlight. Tears soaked my cheeks, dripping down to my shirt. As I walked home, the cool breeze chilled my wet face. I wiped my nose, feeling sick to my stomach.
Stupid, stupid. I’d stomped all over him. Fuck off? Why had I said that? Cruel, cold, unforgivable words.
Minutes later, I stepped inside the house, shaking with fear and regret. Mark and Mom were waiting in the living room.
“It’s about time,” Mark announced with a smack to the arm of the chair.
“Where’s Tyler?” Mom asked. “He wouldn’t tell me where to find you, and insisted on coming himself.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how fast he drove. Is he coming inside?”
“He’s gone. I blew it.” I sniffled, unable to arrest my breath. “You don’t ever have to worry about me running again. I’m sorry. I ruined everything.”
She stared at me with her arms crossed. “Glad to know someone finally got to you.”
Her poignant words stung deep. She turned and disappeared on the other side of the wall, footsteps pattering toward her room.
Mark and I made eye contact.
“Tyler was freaking out when he got here.” Mark’s contorted look of betrayal ripped another pain through me. “Whatever you did to run him off... you’re an idiot. The guy fucking loves you.”
He pushed out of the chair, went straight to his room, and clicked the door behind him.
Alone again. I gasped, but my throat was locked tight. Sucking in breath after breath, I thought I’d die inside. My stomach rolled as acid filled my throat. Darting to the bathroom, I fell to my knees in front of the toilet and vomited.
Chapter 38
The next ten days were hell. I’d been set back two months. All the pain I’d felt after Tyler left for school came rushing back, only this time, I owned it. I’d created my own circumstances. I sat on my bed staring at my phone. It hadn’t vibrated, buzzed, hummed, dinged, rang—nothing. I’d called him every day, sent six text messages, and left eight voicemails. Nothing.
Mom poked her head in my room. “Are you almost done packing?”
“Yeah. Just a few more things, then we can tear down my bed.”
“Okay. Have you heard from Mrs. Allen?”
“Yeah. I can take finals tomorrow.”
“Good. All the teachers assured me they’d help.”
My chest felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. “Yep.”
“You still haven’t heard from him?”
“Nope.”
“Hang in there,” she said before she closed my door.
Sure.
The next day, I came home from finals and scrounged up a manila envelope out of the hutch. I wrote on the front in black permanent marker: Vaughn, 857 Jamerson Rd. Collierville, TN, and slid Tyler’s iPhone inside. Less than twenty-four hours until I left Tennessee for good. I couldn’t take the temptation to call him again.
At eight the next morning, we stopped by Woodrow and Ruby’s and said goodbye. Tears. Hugs. More tears. One last hug, then Mark, Mom, and I hit the road in separate vehicles. Mark led our convoy in a Ryder truck to start anew, and we headed North.
When we stopped in Mount Vernon, Illinois to get gas, I stopped by a post office to mail the envelope. Before I sent it, I wrote a note that said: Unconditionally? I slipped it inside, then sealed it tight. There. Maybe he’d get the point.
~ * ~
A week later, we’d settled in a small, three-bedroom, yellow farmhouse on County Road 400 in the middle of a barren, snow-covered field. After a few days, I started receiving letters forwarded from Morris Chapel, offering the chance to attend several colleges. Every time I read one, the possibility that I could study filled me with hope, but all of the universities were in Tennessee, and I couldn’t even think about the state without tearing up.
Mark holed up in his bedroom which was an add-on to the back of the house. I stayed in my small, eight-by-fourteen room off the kitchen. Mo
m would come home from work and fall asleep in the recliner or crash in her bedroom at the front of the house every night before nine. We found a new routine without flinching. Each of us torn inside with our personal sorrow. Mom—Dad. Me—Tyler. Mark—Megan.
The long nights were haunting. I wanted to feel better, but more than that, I wanted to move on. As I lay in the silent darkness, I couldn’t stop beating myself up. Over and over, I repeated the night at the abandoned house. The way Tyler pleaded with me and how I refused to give in. How terrified he was when he first showed up. The way he kissed me... I’d sacrificed everything for nothing, acted like a fool, and look at where it had gotten me – alone. In Illinois, anyway.
“Why are you so stubborn, Elsie?” I grumbled to myself, then I flopped on my side and cried myself to sleep, once again.
December fourteenth, I was standing in the kitchen, washing dishes, staring past the blue-and-white checkered curtains at the frozen cornfield. Cold, wet, frigid Illinois. I’d never warm up to the flatlands. Flatlander by birth, it didn’t matter, my heart would always live in the rolling hills of the Tennessee River Valley.
The back door swung open and Mom ran inside, waving a manila envelope.
“I forgot to check the mail yesterday. It’s here!”
I froze. “Okay... give me a second.”
Trembling, I willed myself to dry my hands with the dish towel. The only school I hadn’t heard from was the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. My last hope. I could move to the city and forget about the past six months of my life.
Please, let it be good news. I craved the idea of a loud city, somewhere to blend and be more or less invisible. She shoved the envelope in my hand. I stared at it for a moment.
Tyler. Chicago had never crossed my mind until him. An aching pain rolled through me.
“You’re killing me,” Mom said. “What are you waiting for?”
“I’m scared.” I exhaled. “I’d set my hopes up too high.”
“Elsie... I know the past few weeks have been hard. Don’t let a broken heart stop you.”
Life Happens on the Stairs Page 32