BEACONFIELD
Copyright © 2019 by Mast Pine Press, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
The following is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living, or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Eight Little Pages
Interior Art by Holly Hunter
ISBN 978-1-7333858-0-0
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
www.brirleclerc.com
For my parents—
Everything you do makes me who I am
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Blank Page
Acknowledgments
About the Author
It was cold in my room—I could see the breath billowing out of my mouth.
I glanced out the window at the yellows and oranges of the leaves on the trees. It was twilight, but the lights from my parents’ Halloween decorations made it seem lighter. I pulled my sweater tighter around myself to stop from shivering. I groaned, angry with my parents for turning down the heat to accommodate their party guests. I should have been downstairs, but I couldn’t face all the people in my house. The hardwood floor under my feet thumped in time with the music and the repeated ring of the doorbell.
Downstairs, people were yelling. Drunken people, at that. The music stopped suddenly, making my ears ring from the lack of sound. Then a tune I knew well came through my walls. “The Monster Mash” began blasting through the speakers.
I clamped my hands over my ears and groaned. The party was for me—for my birthday— and for Halloween. Growing up, I’d always loved that my birthday was around Halloween. But tonight, the last place I wanted to be was down there with all of my parents’ friends. It was like they were using me as an opportunity to advance their status. Hey, look at this, our daughter is turning eighteen. Come see our house.
I turned back to my computer and clicked around. I wasn’t looking at anything in particular—I’d read so many job descriptions in the past five months that my brain didn’t seem to be recognizing any of the words anymore. I scrolled through the page, skimming the titles that sat before me.
There were no jobs that were even remotely entry-level, let alone available for someone without a college degree. It was so frustrating that you needed a degree to do anything these days. My parents didn’t go to college and they had perfectly good jobs. But, because they didn’t go to college, they wanted me to go. And I wanted to take a gap year. There was a bit of tension between us.
I didn’t want to work as a barista but I also wasn’t qualified for much else. I clicked back to my résumé and glanced over it. For someone with a 4.0 GPA, who knew finding employment would be such a pain in the ass? Not to mention my standing presidency of the American History Club, though that would probably only give me brownie points for a position at a museum.
Under that was a long list of the summer jobs I’d held as a teenager. I worked at a bookstore, as a babysitter, and as a dog walker. I even did a short stint in the local grocery store.
I slammed my laptop shut and sat back in my chair with my arms crossed against my chest. Candidly, this was bullshit. I huffed out a breath. Everyone knew that your résumé was just an inflated version of yourself.
Yeah, I was personable, but I didn’t particularly like people.
I spun around in my chair and my off-white room flashed across my vision. I stopped myself suddenly so that I was facing my bookshelves and bed. My dog, Scout, lay on the comforter, curled up with her head almost under my pillows. I got out of the chair and crawled across to her and pulled her against my chest.
She was small and black. We didn’t know what kind of dog she was but it didn’t matter. I kissed her on the top of her smooth head and squeezed her. She let out a small grunt and squirmed in my arms.
“Would you still love me if I decided to move across the country and join a cult?” I asked her in a high-pitched voice.
Scout just looked at me, blinked, and then licked me on the nose.
“Thank you,” I said. “I love you, too.” I loosened my arms around her, and she scrambled away from me, curling up on the opposite pillow. She blinked at me again. I let out a deep breath and rolled onto my back. Staring up at the ceiling, I listened to the muffled sound of people talking in the stairwell. The music seemed louder than it had been before.
Scout whimpered, and I turned back to her. “What?” I asked. She whimpered again. “I don’t speak dog, sorry.” Scout barked softly. I smiled, rubbed between her ears, and placed a small kiss on her cheek. Scout was ignoring the crowd just like I was. I really didn’t want to go out there and wondered how long I could stay in here without someone noticing.
Almost on cue, there was a soft knock on my door. I sighed and didn’t respond. I figured it was my mom. There was a tinkling noise of her earring as she placed her ear against the door.
“Mari, honey, could you come outside? Everyone is here to see you,” my mother said through the door.
I scoffed quietly. They definitely weren’t here for me. I closed my eyes and brought my hands to my face. Maybe if I just ignored her, she would go away. I waited ten seconds before saying, “You don’t have to stand out there. Come in.”
The door squeaked open and Mom’s head popped in. She gave me a tight smile and then came through the doorway. She had on her favorite Halloween costume: the Queen of Hearts. Her dark hair was pulled into an elaborate up-do and her dress was simply gorgeous—she was glowing.
“Hi, baby,” she said, closing the door behind her. With her hands behind her back, she looked like a queen here to broker a peace treaty.
“Hi, Mom,” I responded while petting Scout.
“Would you come spend some time with us? Everyone is asking about you.” She took a step closer to me and then sat on the corner of the bed.
“I really don’t want to,” I grumbled into my chest. After an awkward silence, I noticed that she still had her hands behind her back. “Do you have something?” I asked, nodding to her arms.
“Happy birthday, baby.” She handed me a small black box tied with an orange ribbon. She gave it to me very carefully and then brought her hands to her face, which she did when she was excited. “I’ve been looking forward to giving this to you. Go ahead.”
I pulled the ribbon off, handed it to her, and then pulled the top off the box. Inside lay the most beautiful necklace I’d ever seen.
It was a gold pendant, and at the center sat a large, multicolored jewel. As I lifted it from the box, I noticed that the jewel glittered when I turned it this way and that. The details around the center were ornate and intricate, yet the chain it hung on was simple. It was perfect. At first, I hadn’t recognized it, and then I asked, “Is this Grandma’s?”
Mom nodded and held her hands out for the necklace. I gave it to her and turned around so that she could put it on.
When the cool metal touched my skin, I felt a calm go through me, and for a second, I thought I saw the gem glow. The feeling was similar to the way I felt in my grandmother’s presence. It was as if she was here with me now.
I touched it s
oftly. “Thank you so much,” I said, smiling.
“I’ve been holding on to it for a while. It’s tradition for the women in our family to pass it down to their daughters during a big moment in their lives. Your grandmother gave it to me when your father and I got married. I figured now would be a good occasion to give it to you, to remind you that you always have your family.” Mom reached out and stroked my arm softly as I looked down at my new necklace.
“I love it, Mom.”
“I’m so glad, baby.” She wrapped her arms around me and rubbed my back. “Will you come downstairs now?”
I played with my new necklace, stroking the jewel in the center. I pulled it away from my neck and stared at the mesmerizing colors. I did a double take as it looked like the colors inside the jewel were moving.
When I looked again and it was still, I shrugged and let the necklace hang.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be down in a minute.”
My mom hopped off the bed with a clap of her hands and beamed at me. “Oh, good!” She rushed to the door, smiling at me, and closed it behind her.
I needed to get up the courage to make it down there. I didn’t know anyone, not really.
My mom had wanted me to invite my friends from high school, but I didn’t talk to them much anymore. Besides, I didn’t want to have any friends at a party my parents were throwing; how embarrassing.
I got off the bed and began to pull on my witch costume. First came the tights with the spider web pattern. I eased them up my pale legs, careful not to rip them. Next, I slipped on the long, black dress and the shiny belt. I turned to the mirror and stared at myself.
I pulled on the ends of the frayed sleeves and smoothed the fabric over my flat stomach. My dark, shoulder-length hair under the witch’s hat made me look the part. I stared down at my grandmother’s necklace and felt a smile spread across my face.
I missed my grandma—she would have gotten a kick out of my costume. She used to always say that real witches would dress like everyone else, to avoid suspicion.
To complete the look, I dug in my makeup bag and found a dark red lipstick. I swiped it across my lips and then took one final look in the mirror.
“Positively spooky,” I said to my reflection.
I’d stayed in my room for as long as I could. I shoved my feet into my black leather shoes and turned to my dog.
“All right, Scout. I guess I should go out there, huh?”
She blinked at me.
“Do you want to come with me?”
She closed her eyes and settled into her spot on my bed.
“Okay then,” I said as I stood. I straightened my hat, patted my new necklace, and opened the door into the hallway.
My parents had really outdone themselves this time. The entire downstairs of our house was covered in Halloween decorations. Fake cobwebs, bats, and spiders hung all over the walls. The stark white walls seemed to be glowing from the black lights in all of the lamps. All of our guests also had an eerie glow about them. The living room was teeming with costumes. I felt anxiety creep up my neck with a chill.
A fog machine sat in the corner, coating the floor with a white haze. It was warm down here with so many bodies—I was already sweating. Normally, our home was sterile and cold, but with all of these people here, it felt almost homey.
There were rows and rows of Mom’s gourmet food from her restaurant. There were smears of fake blood on the tables, most likely corn syrup and red food coloring. And the cake. Oh, the cake. It was a large sheet cake, lathered with white frosting, which I couldn’t see but could only assume was red velvet, both my and Mom’s favorite.
Mom walked around the house, smiling effortlessly and making everyone feel welcome. Dad, in his Clark Kent costume, and his friends played darts in the corner while estranged family members handed me cards and envelopes of cash.
Maybe this isn’t so bad.
I made my way through everyone, dodging pictures and people that I’d met years ago. I was pulled into a few hugs and introduced to the children of acquaintances. A few people called out, “Happy birthday, Mari!” to which I answered with a forced smile. Everywhere I turned I was assaulted by the sound of beer cans hissing open. The smell of alcohol lingered with the scents of hairspray, food, and perfume.
When I made it to an open area in the living room, I took a deep breath and pulled my hat from my head. I crossed my arms and fanned myself with my hat. The room was teeming with conversation and shouts of joy, I could feel my ears ringing from the noise. I could feel myself beginning to grow even more anxious than I had been, my palms were sweating and my vision began to grow narrow.
Over the tops of our guests heads I saw my mom. I made a beeline for her, pushing through the crowd, struggling against the bodies.
I finally made it through and was spilled out of the crowd in front of Mom. She noticed me and pulled me into her arms. She squeezed me tight as I rested my head between her neck and shoulder. I breathed in the scent of vanilla and closed my eyes for a moment before pulling away.
“My baby, oh, happy birthday!” She grabbed my shoulders with her perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, Parker, look at our girl!” she said, turning to Dad who stood behind her.
Dad pulled me into a quick hug and then stared down at me with a smile in his blue eyes. “Happy birthday, Mari,” he said with sincerity. He gave my shoulder a squeeze. I felt my heart get lighter, seeing my parents happy for me and happy with each other. “I see your mother gave you the necklace.” He nodded toward the gem. My fingers flew up to touch it again, a smile on my face.
“I love it so much.”
“Good.” He smiled back at me.
“We have to go mingle, baby,” Mom said, and just like that, they were gone.
“Marigold Wilder,” a voice said behind me. I turned and saw one of Mom’s friends. Ned? Ted? Something like that. I cringed at his pronunciation of my name. He said it like Mary-gold, not Mar-i-gold.
“Hi, how are you?” I asked, a fake smile plastered to my face.
“Great, great. Happy birthday, by the way. Are you at school now?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer. I figured he’d gotten right to the question that he wanted to ask all along.
I swallowed and pulled at the strap on my hat. It was too tight. “No, I’m not in school right now. I’m taking a bit of time off to figure out what I want to do.”
He looked almost disappointed. “Oh, I’m not sure if that’s wise, Miss Wilder.” Ned/Ted shook his head. Who was he to tell me what was wise?
I clenched my fists at my side and asked, “Why’s that? I don’t want to waste my time at school studying something I don’t love.”
“College is where you learn the most about yourself, no matter what you’re studying. Besides, your parents are so proud of you. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?”
“Of course not,” I said through gritted teeth.
Thankfully, the man nodded and turned away.
I looked around the room at our guests, looking for a way out. I didn’t want someone else lecturing me about going to college. I got enough of that from my parents.
I spotted an open seat on our couch and made a beeline for it. I threw myself into the plush cushions and let out a deep breath. Glancing to my right I saw a discarded glass of red wine. I snatched it up and quickly drank its contents before anyone caught me.
As I watched the crowd of my parents’ friends I thought more about what Ned/Ted had said.
College. Four years. In the grand scheme of life, it wasn’t a long time, but at eighteen it was. And with the things that happened in the past four years of high school, I knew that I couldn’t go to college.
I thought of my parents, who were milling around the house, and the struggles they’d gone through. Were they happy today? Were they holding hands and exchanging excited glances? Or were they ignoring each other?
They’d always had a loving marriage. Growing up, I’d never seen them fight, and if they had it wa
sn’t in front of me. But when I started high school, I began to notice a change between the two of them; no long gazes, no laughing, and barely any smiling at all. It destroyed me.
They’d come very close to divorce, but couples counseling had fixed that. A woman with a PhD in psychology who they saw once a week had said that since I’d grown older they no longer had anything in common, so they had to get to know each other again. And with me being an only child, she’d made it seem like it was my fault.
Knowing what was going on at home had weighed heavily on me, and made me not want to go away for school.
From across the room I saw my Aunt Jean. She was a small woman, about five foot two, but she was a loud woman. She was incapable of speaking at a normal volume, and if she’d been drinking, her voice was about four times louder. I sat straighter on the couch to get a better look at her hands, to see what her drink of choice was for today. As I did, she looked in my direction and made direct eye contact.
“Oh no,” I said under my breath as I averted my eyes. I knew she’d come this direction now that she saw me, and if I ran, she’d just follow. So, I waited until I heard her shrill voice.
“There’s my little birthday girl,” Jean squealed.
I cringed a little but threw a grin onto my face as I turned to greet her. “Aunt Jean, how are you?” I asked as I was pulled into a tight hug. My father’s sister gave me a squeeze, and I felt liquid drip down my back as she spilled some of her drink on me. She didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m very well, honey. Just living life, you know.” She took a long drag off of her straw and then continued. “I just wanted to tell you how proud you have made me and this family. You are so dang smart. You should be very excited about your future . . .” I didn’t hear much else after that. I smiled and nodded at the appropriate times and thought about the piece of what looked like artichoke that she had stuck between her teeth.
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