My Life as an Album (Books 1-4): A small town, southern fiction series

by LJ Evans

  My cell rang—an L.A. area code—and my heart leaped, hoping that it was Lita calling me from someone else’s phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. Is this Lonnie Brennan?”

  And the hope fell to the bottom of my stomach, along with my heart. The last call that had started this way had changed my life, and I knew with a suddenness that made it hard to breathe that this would too. My skin broke out in goosebumps, and I knew before any words were spoken.

  “This is Lonnie.”

  “I’m calling from the Los Angeles Police Department.” The man on the other end hesitated. “It’s about your sister.”

  “Shit.” I sat on the bed. My head swimming. My heart already crying. My body shaking.

  “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Mr. Brennan.”

  I fell back onto the bed, the soft mattress supporting me so that I didn’t faint like the wuss I was. Bodily fluids be damned. This was going to make me lose it completely.

  “She’s dead,” I said it for him, voice shaking, tears held back barely.

  Wynn looked over at me, her hands stilling on the suitcase she was zipping. Her face morphing into one of sadness and pain. She was next to me with her legs curled up beside me on the bed in an instant. Her hand on my arm.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, but she is.”

  “Do my parents know?”

  Hesitation again. “They wouldn’t take the calls from our office.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way. It’ll be a few hours. I’m in Colorado.”

  “We’ll be here when you get here. And...I’m so sorry.”

  After I hung up, I realized I hadn’t asked what happened. I guess I just assumed it was an overdose. But I knew I should have confirmed it. I should have asked a lot of questions. But none of them really mattered. The only thing that mattered was that my sister was dead. That I’d never get to surf with her again. That I’d never get to tease her about being Lolita.

  Then I heard Edie, her sweet, joyful laugh shattering the silence as she watched the television in the adjoining room, and my heart just about broke all over. Because now Edie would never get to hug her mom again. I lost the battle with tears that I’d been fighting.

  They streamed out of the corner of my eyes and down my face and neck and onto the comforter where I lay staring at the ceiling, listening to my niece’s tiny laugh with a hole in my heart so great I wasn’t sure I knew how to get out.

  “Lonnie…” Wynn unwound herself and lay so that her entire body was tucked up against mine. She lay an arm over me, grabbing my hand and wrapping it into hers. “God, Lonnie. I’m so sorry.”

  Because what else do you say? What could she say? Nothing. There was nothing that could make this go away. Nothing that would make it better, and she knew that. Knew it from watching her two best friends lose a man that had meant more than the world to them. A lover. A brother. A friend.

  I held on tight to her, trying to stop the tears, trying to get control. I was grateful as hell that I wasn’t alone. That I didn’t need to do this alone.

  Then, I thought about what I was going to say to Edie, and the tears came again.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  When we got off the plane at LAX, I had a text waiting, from Mark, saying that he had his driver waiting for me at the airport. He didn’t know that I had Wynn with me. He probably didn’t even register that I would have Edie with me as well.

  When I’d called him from the airport in Denver, he’d gotten quiet. Mark was never a man of a lot of words anyway, but his silence had held something that I hadn’t expected. A sense of loss. He and Rochelle had washed their hands of Lita—both of us, really—so long ago that I hadn’t expected anything more than relief in his voice.

  Wynn and I grabbed the bags and Edie’s car seat from the baggage claim and made our way out into the smog of L.A. Tony, Mark’s driver, saw me and his eyes widened at everything that came with me, but, to his credit, he didn’t say anything.

  Once we had Edie’s car seat tucked in, Wynn and Edie took the back, and I joined Tony up front in the Mercedes he drove for my parents.

  “We’re going to the police station,” I told him.

  He nodded.

  “Have Mark and Rochelle been there?” I asked.

  He hesitated and then shook his head no.

  I cursed under my breath.

  “Lonnie,” Wynn’s quiet voice brought me back. I looked into the backseat. She looked over at Edie.

  “Maybe you should drop Edie and me off before you go to the station.”

  Shit. She was right. I didn’t want Edie at the police station. I didn’t want to risk her hearing anything that might traumatize her more than I already had when I’d told her that her mommy was no longer sick but that she was gone. I didn’t think she could really comprehend it. Her eyes had gotten wide, and she’d squeezed her bear so hard that I thought his stuffing would burst like she had that day at the doctor’s office, but she hadn’t really said anything. She hadn’t cried. She’d just nodded at me, looking so much like Lita when Lita was trying to be tough that it almost sent me over the edge again.

  We drove to Mark and Rochelle’s instead. It was Mark that met us at the door. His hair that had once been the color of mine was now full of gray, and he had a beard that I realized was probably easier to manage than dealing with the stubble I was constantly fighting. It was the same color as his hair. Gray and red blending together into a mask. A mask that hid his emotions.

  He hugged me, for the first time since I could remember, and then he stepped back and looked at the rest of the people that were with me.

  “Edie, how are you?” he asked, reaching out to pat her head as Wynn held her.

  She buried her head in Wynn’s neck, and it didn’t seem to impact Mark at all. He stuck out a hand to Wynn. “I’m Mark.”

  “Wynn. I’m sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances. I’m sorry about Lita.”

  They shook hands before Mark took his hand back, nodding at her words.

  “Setting up in the guesthouse still okay?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s Rochelle?”

  “She took a sedative. She’s asleep.”

  I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. Why the fuck did she need a sedative? She’d never cared about what Lita had gone through. She’d been the one to cut her off.

  “Have you been to the station?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I thought we could go together.”

  That did surprise me. That he was even going to tag along. I thought I’d be dealing with that alone like I’d dealt with everything about Lita for the last five years.

  I got Wynn and Edie set up in the guesthouse and introduced them to May, Rochelle’s housekeeper. May looked like she’d been crying at the news. Her eyes were red and puffy. I wondered, harshly, if Rochelle’s eyes were red at all. I doubted it. She didn’t do anything that would impact her complexion.

  Then, Mark and I went to the station. We met with the officer who’d called me, and he told us that Lita had been found in a motel room. She’d overdosed, as I’d suspected, but it looked to them like it was a suicide because she’d left a note. It had my name on it. They’d read it, of course, as police were supposed to do, and they’d made me a copy that was sitting in an envelope. The officer pushed it across the desk at me, and I just pocketed it. Unable to open it. Unable to see what she wrote.

  From there, we had to go to the morgue and identify her. She looked better than the last time I’d seen her over a year ago. I’d never been able to see her when I’d come to L.A. She hadn’t let me. She wasn’t as skinny as I remembered. Her hair wasn’t as greasy. Her skin was clearer. She’d just gotten out of rehab. They’d obviously done a good job of trying to get her clean.

  I just nodded and walked away.

  Mark stood there longer, staring down at her. I didn’t know what that was about. I didn’t know if I wa
nted to know. I was afraid that if I did, it might piss me off and make me say things that I would regret. That I couldn’t take back.

  We left, silent. Tony driving us. Both of us lost in our own hell inside our heads. When we got back to the house, he stopped me in the driveway before I could go around back to the guesthouse.

  “I know you might not believe it, but we loved her.” There was no emotion in his voice, though. Not sadness. Not grief. So yeah, it was fucking hard to believe that they’d loved her.

  Me, on the other hand…I was all emotion. I had a knot in my throat that was full of anger, and sorrow, and pain that I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to go away again.

  “You had a pretty screwed up way of showing it,” I couldn’t help saying back, knowing that I shouldn’t, feeling Wynn’s hand on my arm, even though she wasn’t there.

  Mark looked up at me, eyes meeting mine for a brief second before sliding away. He didn’t say anything else. He went into the house where I knew he’d go up the stairs to the room he shared with Rochelle. I made my way out back to a woman who I knew would save me from drowning.

  The lights in the living room of the guesthouse were on. It was dark out. When had it gotten dark? It could have been that way all day, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Wynn was sitting on the couch, her textbook on her lap. She put it down as I came in.

  “Edie?” I asked.

  “Asleep.”

  I nodded and sank down on the couch next to her. Her hand came to my arm, softly rubbing it. I sank my head onto the back of the couch, trying not to cry.

  “What did the police say?” Wynn asked.

  “She committed suicide.” My voice cracked as I said it.

  “Oh, Lonnie.” She laid her head against my chest, wrapping her arms around me as if she could make it better. As if she could take the pain away. “Do they know for sure?”

  “She left a note.”

  She squeezed me harder.

  “I haven’t read it. I’m not sure I can,” I told her, because I was afraid of what would be in it. Accusations. Self-accusations. Pain. Lita had always been full of pain. But I also knew that if I read it, I would probably be even more angry at her for leaving. I didn’t know if I could ever understand how she could leave behind her little girl on purpose. How she could choose death over Edie. Over me.

  There weren’t enough words in the English language to make me understand that.

  Wynn nodded as if she understood, but I knew it was probably impossible for her to do so.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly.

  “There’s nothing to thank,” she responded.

  “There is. Thank you for coming with me. For not even hesitating. For taking care of Edie. For taking care of me.”

  She squeezed again, and I returned it before letting the tears roll down my cheeks once more. I was pretty sure that there’d be more tears before I could adequately control myself. I had just lost my sister. My twin. I wouldn’t be Rochelle. I’d cry. I’d storm. And I’d be damned if I didn’t show it.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  The next day, when I woke, the sun wasn’t even up yet, but the light was slowly breaking into the darkness. I heard hushed voices and knew that Wynn and Edie were already awake. Our body clocks were all screwed up from the time zones we’d been through in the course of a few days.

  I groaned, my head feeling like I’d drunk more than my fair share the night before when I hadn’t had anything. I’d been tempted. I knew there was enough liquor in Rochelle and Mark’s house to have a cocktail party for the president, but I hadn’t retrieved any. I wanted to be there for Edie if she broke like I was breaking. Maybe we’d be able to fix ourselves together.

  I walked out to find the two snuggled up in a chair with a book in their hands. Edie had Mask and her cape tightly grasped as always. Wynn’s shimmering hair was draped over them both. Edie was giggling.

  My heart constricted.

  The light trying to make its presence known outside the windows gave me an idea. I knew what I had to do.

  “Hey,” I said. Wynn looked up and smiled weakly at me, unsure of my mood and how to react.

  “Nonnie!” Edie threw herself from Wynn and into my arms, and I barely had time to catch her before she hit the ground.

  “Chicken Lips,” I said, kissing her cheek.

  I looked at Wynn. “There’s something I need to do.”

  “Okay. Edie and I can hang here.”

  I thought about it. “No. Why don’t you both come with me?”

  When I told Wynn where we were going, she just nodded her head and helped get Edie ready, smothering her in that berry-scented sunscreen that overwhelmed my senses. I went in search of the keys for Mark’s SUV and then went out to the garage where I found my old wetsuit and surfboard stored where Rochelle had always insisted they be stored: out of the house. No sand or water allowed indoors.

  Soon, the three of us were at the beach where Lita and I had always surfed as teens. It had been a long time since I’d been in the water. Several years at least.

  Wynn set her and Edie up on a blanket we’d found with the surfing gear, and I headed toward the waves. It was a rough couple hauls as I tried to get my bearing, knowing that surfing was a lot like riding a bike. Once I kicked off the rust from the wheels, I’d be okay.

  I swam out and waited for the next wave as the sun mounted higher in the sky. I could almost feel Lita out there with me. Laughing. Telling me that there was no way that I was going to beat her back to shore. That she’d always come in first.

  She almost always did. She was a better surfer than I was. As if her body could read the whitecaps, where I couldn’t. As if she knew exactly where to hit the wave. Here, she was always comfortable in her skin…it was the only place she ever was.

  I rode the breakers for a long time as the memories settled in around me, and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I headed back to the shore.

  Wynn greeted me with a towel, and I thanked her and shook my wet head at her while she squealed and giggled with Edie, their light laughter lifting my burden a smidge.

  “I’ll be right back. Just gonna rinse off and change,” I said, heading toward the outdoor showers and the crappy bathrooms that Lita and I had always complained about.

  When I got back, Wynn and Edie were packed up and ready to go. Edie handed me a shell.

  “Here, Nonnie, pretty.”

  “It is,” I said and then went to toss it, and her little hand stopped me.

  “Keep?” she asked and memories flooded me. Of Lita picking up shells and scraps of wood and trying to get them into the house. Somehow, Rochelle always found them and threw them out. She said there was no place in her house for trash.

  I’d been the one to start tossing it all back on the beach when Lita tried to keep anything, because I knew it would just spark a fight that would send Rochelle off to her room with a migraine and Lita off on a bender that, even in high school, hadn’t been pretty.

  As I stared at the shell, the memories overwhelmed me.

  “Why do you even try to keep them?” I’d demanded of Lita, frustrated.

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “It’s just a shell, Lita, like any other of a hundred shells on the beach.”

  “But this one is full of the memories we made today.”

  “That’s bullshit. Our memories are in our heads, not in some object we find in the sand,” I snapped at her because I really didn’t want her to start a fight with Rochelle that day. I had plans with Derek, and I knew there’d be a girl at the end of it, and I didn’t want to get stuck at home refereeing.

  “Someday, you’ll understand. You’ll be the one getting all sentimental and goopy over a little object.” She smirked up at me, all smartass, but her eyes held a knowledge that made me wonder. Made me think my twisted up sister was actually much smarter than me.

  “Not me. Junk is junk.”

  She laughed. “You will.
”

  “Not ever.”

  “Someday you’ll have a forever and always moment. I just hope I’m there to give you shit when it happens.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, tossed her seashells into the sea, grabbed my board, and headed for the crap bus she’d insisted on buying because it fit her surfer image.

  “Nonnie?” Edie’s voice brought me back from my memories. I took the shell and tossed it as far as I could out into the ocean, letting my anger get the better of me. But I felt like shit as soon as I’d done it because Edie’s lips started to tremble.

  Wynn frowned at me like she wanted to say something but didn’t. Probably because she saw the remorse that flickered across my face.

  “Sh—crud, Chicken Lips, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s o-tay,” she said, pulling her cape closer to her and resting her head on Wynn’s shoulder.

  I could almost hear Lita hollering at me, but that just sent me back to being pissed off at her. I wanted to be able to scream at her that if she’d wanted Edie to keep sentimental shit like seashells, she should have stuck around to make sure I didn’t throw them out. But I couldn’t scream at her. Because she was gone. And that blew the steam out of me until there was nothing left but sadness and guilt again.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  Four days later, I was in a different black suit. One that I’d be burying my sister in, instead of riding the waves. Wynn had gone shopping with me and Edie. She’d bought her own black dress and heels and a little black dress for Edie. Then, she’d helped me find a suit to bury my sister.

  She’d been amazing. Silent. There. Not pushing. But at my side when she knew I needed it. She’d met Rochelle once in four days. Rochelle had stuck to her room. Mark had flitted around us now and then, but really, it had just been the three of us in the guesthouse much like it had been just Edie and me before I’d gone to Tennessee.

  Except this time, I was better at taking care of Edie. I knew what she needed now. We had a rhythm, Wynn and I, as we took care of her, trying hard to keep her to the schedule we’d devised back in Tennessee before I’d had a dead twin.