Blackout (13 page)

I don’t like it when a doctor brings up something I cannot recall. It seems that I should. Closing my eyes I try to remember, but there’s nothing, and that frightens me. “No.”

“Your hospital records indicate you were treated for a severe concussion after you were found, and your broken skull.”

I touch the knot on the crown of my head that has bothered me for a long time. “Here?”

He studies some x-ray. “Yes.” He shows me this. “Do you remember your hospital stay?”

I shake my head, my fingers running along the top of my skull. “How long was I in the hospital? Why didn’t any doctors mention this? Why don’t I remember that?

He shrugs. “Maybe they thought you remembered. You were there a few months. This kind of head trauma can definitely cause memory loss. You missed some school, and your dad had you tutored until you could return.”

I wish I’d never returned to school. My hands tremble. “I recall going to the hospital, but I don’t remember being there.” This means some of my memories are false. What happened in the swamp? Are any of them real from that time? I wring my hands, frustration building inside me. I hate this. I don’t even know my mama. I hate not knowing, and when the images probably from that day surface, I black out.

“What are your next memories after that?”

“Going to school, occasionally blacking out, feeling like I didn’t belong. None of the kids would ask me to play sports. They were afraid I’d get hurt. I had some friends, like Kami.” Tears fall unbidden. They all know about my messed up head, and now it’s worse.

I pick up the x-ray. My skull was split open like an egg. Dare had told me I was hurt, but I had no idea I was in the hospital for that long. Why don’t I remember? How much of my life is a blank slate? My breathing hitches and hiccups shortly follow.

“We’ve talked about this enough today.” He comes over and sits next to me and rubs my shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this together. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

I close my eyes and practice what he taught me in the first session. I squeeze each of my muscle groups to relax my body then breathe deeply. It’s some form of meditation.

When I finally calm, Miles gives me space. “Let’s work on some more CBT techniques to control some of the anxiety you feel.”

His methods are slightly different from others. I listen carefully because this time the treatments have to stick. I won’t endure these blackouts for the rest of my life, and I can’t let Dare suffer for what I cannot remember.

When I get home, more daisies have been dropped at the door stoop. My street is empty except for the usual neighbors’ parked cars. Are they for me? Or Lulu? Or are they meant for Mama?

Tied together by a small yellow ribbon, the flowers seem out of place here. I glance around one more time, see nothing, and shudder. I hope it’s nothing, but the feeling of dread from a lost memory stabs at my brain—flashes of yellow and white and a deep crimson. Lulu said Mom loved daisies.

Inside the house, Lulu has cleared the great room and lies on her side with one leg scissored a foot off the rug. On the flat screen, a shirtless guy demonstrates the same move with two super toned women working out behind him.

“I need to stay in shape,” Lulu calls to me. “How am I doing? Think Chad would let me take him for a spin?”

“Chad?” I stuff the daisies in the vase with the others.

She waggles her brow. “The instructor. Pretty juicy. Is that what you kids say?”

I laugh. “Hot, Grandma.”

“Don’t be calling me Grandma. Don’t want the boys to guess my age.”

I love having her here. “Yes, Lulu.”

My cell jangles, so I pick up.

“Hey,” Graham says. “How about I take you to dinner, play some pool, dance?”

“I like the sound of that.” He’s the good guy. What’s good for me.

“Tomorrow night?”

“Sure, as long as I don’t have to work.” A smile picks up my lips and sweetens my mood. For once, things are going better.

“You have a job?” he asks.

“I’m looking.” My cast will be hard to miss, especially the lime color.

“Good luck. I’ll call you for a time on Friday.” He sounds like he’s really interested in me. I need a cute man in my life.

Since I skipped lunch, I pull out enough food to make an early dinner for us. The phone rings again. The caller id indicates it’s Daddy. I pick up and with great hesitation say, “Hi.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the time change for the restraining order?” Dad asks.

“It wasn’t necessary for you to be there. Daddy, Dare’s not the problem.”

“Honey, you weren’t conscious for most of the trial, and there was evidence against him. The judge and DA had a solid case against Darius.”

I need the court records. “I didn’t say anything about Dare during my testimony other than he found me.”

“Oh Honey, please just listen to me. I’m doing this to protect you.” In the background, his shoes click impatiently on tiled floor. “I should come home. You’re not doing well.”

I know he means well, and he loves me. “You can’t live my life and you can’t go to college with me.”

“It seems like yesterday that you were my little girl.” Sighs of frustration and worry hiss over the line. “I can’t help you from here. I don’t want every conversation to be an argument.”

“Daddy, I understand you want to help, but this isn’t something you can do. It has to be me.”

“What are you going to do all summer besides watch Lulu? I can’t lose you.” Worry tinges his tone.

“You won’t.” He’s referring to my weak attempt at suicide. “I’m working with my therapist Miles, and he’s good, and I’ll find a job.” To keep me out of trouble and busy while Kami goes off with her boyfriend. I also should pay for my transcript that Dare has access to.

“How are you going to get to a job?”

He doesn’t mention I can’t drive because he’s always known how to handle me, how not to make me feel worse than I already do. “I have my beachcomber. I filled the tires yesterday.”

“It’s dangerous to ride at night on that road, and what about your broken arm?”

“I can ride with it, I have a light on the front and back, and I can always ride on the sand. Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll call Lulu before I leave, so that if I’m not home in a few, she can call for help.”

“I know you’re practically an adult, but it’s my job to worry. If you have any problems with Darius, I want you to renew the petition. You’re capable of doing that.”

“I will.” I miss him. While I was in Paris, he’d insist on me picking out his ties and suits for dignitaries we’d have to dine with. I loved being there with him. Everything that was missing at our home on the beach was in our apartment in Saint Germain in Paris, but soon I’ll be off to college. Lulu will start interviewing live-in care, so she doesn’t need our constant attention either. I don’t want him to be lonely. “I love you, and I appreciate your concern. It’s just that I need to put this to rest, so I can move on. Nobody else can do it for me, and Dare holds a key to a portion of my lost memories.”

“Please don’t make me call you. If something’s wrong, I want to be the first to know, not the last.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I can’t tell him though. This has to be all me. No more crutches.

After I stir fry up vegetables and shrimp, I tell Lulu dinner’s ready.

She waves me off. “I’ll heat it up later, sugar. It’s only three, but I’m happy to see you’re eating.”

She wouldn’t be if I told her I skipped lunch.

With a pen and paper, I make a list of places to apply for a summer job and eat my stir-fry. Most of the good summer jobs are probably already taken.

I need to pay for the transcripts and legal fees to file for the release of the court records. Daddy doesn’t need to know I’m filing the motion. It’ll only further upset him.

“I’ll be back for our sunset walk,” I say, wearing capris and a collared sleeveless blouse. “I’m going to fill out a few job applications.”

I jam my handbag in the basket of my aqua beachcomber bike. It has one of those wide comfy seats, so my butt doesn’t get sore. I pedal down the main drag. The warmth of the day pleasantly soaks into me. Small dunes rise up on my right, and the sea oats flutter in the ocean breeze. I love it here, the sand, the water, the salty air filling my lungs.

I hit all the shops and a few of the restaurants. Two said they’d call me if they have any openings, but so far, they’ve hired all their summer help and a few have mentioned my broken arm.

The biker bar Harley’s comes up next. It’s a local hangout and boasts the best burgers and fried clams in town. The dilapidated greying shack is set back from the main road just past the long row of shops where I have dropped off a flurry of applications. The bar’s back porch overlooks the ocean. It’s the perfect location.

As I pedal by, I notice a “Help Wanted” sign and the Shelby. I don’t want to admit that I’m drawn to Dare. I do have an excuse to see him. I can ask if he’ll go to the courthouse with me to pull the case records.

I can almost smell him and hear his deep, whisky tone. Graham is whom I should focus on. He’s got his head on straight.

I lock my bike up to a post out front. As I climb up the plank stairs of Harley’s, the low sounds of animal-like grunts come from the parking lot to my left. I tiptoe to the corner of the porch. I half expect to find a polecat trapped behind the chicken wire caging off the bottom of the shack.

As I sneak to the side, the noises grow louder.

“Oh, God, Dare,” Shannon growls.

“That’s right baby. I’ll give it to you.”

What are they thinking? It’s broad daylight on the Outer Banks, so I can easily make out Dare grinding Shannon into the cedar clapboard side of the shack. Her long hair catches in her mouth. She throws back her head in ecstasy. Her short skirt is hiked up to expose her bare bottom. His jeans are pulled down just enough to expose his firm ass. His rod slides in and out of her, thankfully wrapped up for Christmas.

I retreat behind the front of the building, inhaling large gulps of air, so they can’t see me.

The Story of O
rolls over in my mind. She didn’t just endure the flogging and tightening around her throat. She enjoyed it. She liked being taken.

“You give it to me so good,” Shannon moans.

This is the way the Parisian girls spoke of their boyfriends. A few of them had older, more experienced men—like Graham or Dare.

She yells out, “Don’t stop. Oh my god. Oh God, you’re so good. Give it to me.”

My thighs clench together, and a burn works its way into my groin. I tighten my sex because it aches. I should go inside, fill out an app, and leave. Now.

When I peek around the corner one last time, Dare growls out his orgasm. He collapses against her, pressing her into the side of the shack. They’re both panting.

I know why he dates her now.

He slowly lets her down. With my hand over my chest, I step backward, and a board creaks. He glances up, sees me, and lowers his head, shaking it. A blush works all the way up to the tips of his ears. He zips up his jeans.

I run inside, my confusion sweating out of me. My whole body is on fire. I’ve never seen anything so…erotic.

I wipe my forehead with the back of my arm and hurry by tables crowded with heavily tattooed, beefy bikers drinking beer. Some of them wear chaps and leathers. One without tats has on a high tech jacket with extra padding that prevents road rash.

A few of them eye me and laugh. I’m dressed more like a day of shopping as opposed to applying for a waitress at a dive bar.

The bar is smoke free, but a haze lingers in the dark, dampness, challenging the chilly AC pouring from the ducts. Clusters of tables and several booths fill the bar as well as a stage for local bands to play and a small dance floor. Only one barmaid works at the counter, wiping it down.

Flashes of Dare half-naked fill my mind. I blink back the smoldering heat working its way between my breasts. Since they’re not the black spots of losing consciousness, I’m taking this as a good sign. He’s a full grown man, no longer a child, with sun-kissed skin that probably smells of sex at the moment. My old boyfriend Henri’s pale skin used to sometimes make me a little squeamish. I like tanned boys.

As I approach the bar, the barmaid gives me a bemused grin. The sun has browned and weathered her face. Kindness radiates from her pale green eyes. “Well, Honey. What can I do for ya? A burger and beer?”

I can feel every man and biker chick staring at me. I shouldn’t have come in. “An application?”

She eyes me up and down. “Are you sure? You look like a nice girl, and it can sometimes be a little rough in here.”

“You look like a nice girl too,” I say before I can bite my tongue.

She gives me a wide grin for that. “Good comeback. Well, let’s see how you do while Shannon is getting a tuneup.” She wrinkles her nose at that. “Are you sure you can wait on tables with your arm.” She nods at my cast.

I grimace at the lime green color of it. “Yeah, other than I can’t get it wet, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Why don’t you take these two beers over to the table with the two white bearded gentlemen. My name’s Carolina.” I’d heard she inherited the bar from her dad sometime before I left. Outside, she’s fixed the place up to attract more than bikers. Big colorful umbrellas shade new picnic tables on the back porch that show through the large picture window.

“I’m Teal.” I turn around and see there are lots of white bearded guys. “Which ones?”

“The table closest to the jukebox. Are you eighteen?”

That’s the legal age in the state to serve alcohol. “In a few days.”

“Close enough.”

I pick up the beers on the tray and carry them over, only spilling a tad. As I’m about to unload the mugs, Shannon and Dare stroll into the bar through the back entrance. After two deep breaths, I put down each beer, careful not to tip it on the customers.

As soon as she sees me, Shannon balls up both fists and marches over to me. “What the hell are you doing here?” She gives me a shove to boot.

I plant my feet and stand my ground. “Working.”

The bikers I just served chuckle. Her rage turns on them, which can’t be good for her tips. Dare takes a seat beside a few other bikers and picks up a beer that must be warm by now. He hangs his head and then glances up. His gaze locks onto me. I turn away from him, feeling his eyes burn holes into me.