Page 4 of Lessons In Grey
Not only did that driver, thatpiece of shitdrunk driver, not only did he take her away from me, but he had the audacity totake my mom too. Leaving me with the parent who, although he never spoke it, wished to holy Hell that I had been the one to die that day.
A knock sounded at my door, so I trapped the humming strings under a palm. “Come in.”
My dad opened the door, giving me his ‘business smile’, already dressed in his suit for the day. “Ready for your last year of college?”
I set my guitar on the stand and nodded. “Yup.” I hated him so much sometimes. Two years he had been cheating on mom with his secretary. Two years before they died, he had been fucking Helen while her son, my now stepbrother, targetedmefor ruininghisfamily.
He was 28 with the mind of a child. The doctors hadn’t confirmed it yet, but he was now living with us. An alcoholic 28-year-old who lived off of my father’s money. No real man would ever have the balls to do that. He was a 17-year-old at heart with a drinking and a rage problem and I was the punching bag.
I should’ve left a long time ago, I really should have, but Charlie and I had made a deal, and then she died, and everything in me believed with all of my heart that this was what I deserved. I don’t think I believed in anything as much as I believed in that.
“Good, Helen is cooking breakfast, you should grab some on your way out, it’ll make her happy.”
“He moved her into my house,”I had told Rachel.
“And that makes you angry?”
“It’s only been three months.”
“That’s not an answer. Does it make you angry.”
I neverfeltanything. I think my emotions never fully came to be when I was constructed. Just like my body lacked the Joy Gene, I also lacked the ability tofeelanything normal.
I stopped seeing her on June 3rd, because fuck her for always answering my questions with a question.
Helen, she was nice, which only made me hate her more. Shewas solely a good person. She cared about everything, she was so…motherly, which made me question how Jordan ended up like such an asshole.
She would have been the ideal stepmom had any part of this situation been normal.
“I’ll be down soon,” I told him, although I wasn’t planning on eating. Food seemed like too much of an effort. Coffee was the way to go.
When the door shut behind him, I released a heavy breath and turned to the small white bear that sat on my nightstand. Charlie and I each had one. The softest fur in the world, the little black eyes, and little black noses, our names stitched into the right foot. Super cute.
Mine was tucked away in the garage, but Charlie’s? I kept that one by my bedside at night, taking it with me during the day. It was the one ghost I’d be happy to clutch to my chest whenever the need arises.
I shoved my lyric book into my bag, along with my comfort food, and headed for the door.
My entire class-load was filled with writing and art classes. Despite the fact that I only needed a couple more credits to graduate with my bachelors in publishing, I nearly filled up the eight-hour block with classes. There was always more to learn about the world of writing, even if part of me didn’t believe I’d make it across that stage.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Helen greeted when I finally made it to the kitchen.
I hated that term. Hated it with everything in me. “Morning, I’m running late. See you at dinner.”
“Emily,” my dad called after me, voice stern.
I ignored him, hopping out the door, the air still a little warm, despite the impending threat of Fall.
I slid in my car and put my headphones in, blasting music that most everyone around me had mocked in High School.Sometimes, you just needed some Hollywood Undead, Nickelback, and NF to get you through the day.
~~~
How could emptiness be so heavy?
It’s something I had asked Rachel once. She studied me for a long time before leaning back in her fancy chair, her perfect nails clicking on her little yellow clipboard. “Because it’s not emptiness that you’re feeling,” she had told me, “it’s everything that comes after it.”
That had settled in my bones like silt. “What comes after it?” I had asked, feeling just a shred of hope.
“The past.”