Life's A Cappella (7 page)

The event was being held at Jungle Island, which I’d never been to and was eager to see. According to Camilla, it was a fun place to visit during the day with all sorts of animals and shows, and I was hoping to see a couple of the animals at night. My hopes fell with disappointment when I saw the event was being held just outside the actual entrance. Bastards.

While waiting for Trent, I went to the bar and ordered a White Russian.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the man behind the bar told me. “We’re not serving alcohol tonight.”

I felt my heart beat at the base of my neck and simply replied, “Oh?” hoping I could suppress the laughter building inside of me. My nervous tendencies flared at the most inopportune times and, to be perfectly honest, sucked huge donkey balls.

The man continued to look at me solemnly as he replied, “This is a charitable event for alcoholism and addiction.”

“Right,” I felt myself flush and hoped the sweat dripping down my forehead would have the decency to stay on my face rather than make its way to my chin and drop onto my chest. “Water then,” I managed to stammer out.

I drank my bottled water quietly at the table assigned to us and tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone. God forbid I incited a conversation with someone I didn’t know. I jumped up and practically tackled Trent to the ground when I saw him.

“Happy to see me?” he asked, smiling slowly at me.

“They don’t serve alcohol here,” I whispered to him, demanding a response.

“Do you know what charity we’re sponsoring tonight?” he asked with his eyebrows arched too high, making me giggle and feel more at ease.

“Well, yeah,” I responded. “But still, no alcohol?”

Trent kissed me on my forehead before introducing me to his parents. Great, I was now the white trash raging alcoholic girlfriend. I forced what I hoped was an amicable smile before shaking their hands and practically wrapped my arms around Dave when he demanded where the alcohol was. Kindred spirits, that’s what Dave and I were. Apparently I was falling for the wrong brother.

As we made our way to our table, Trent leaned towards me and sent a shiver down my spine all the way to my toes, making them go numb, when he whispered, “You look edible, Erin.”

“Are you coming home with me then?” I asked, looking up at his face and winked. I actually winked. I’d never winked before. How lame.

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, his lips slightly parted and his eyes burning a hole through my retinas. Yeah, this is exactly the response I wanted when I bought my dress. Screw what his parents thought, I told myself. Not that I actually felt that way, I reminded myself as I glanced towards his parents, automatically feeling guilty.

I sat down with Trent on my right and his mom on my left side and waited for the inquisition to start. I forced my fingers to lie complacently on my lap, without fiddling while I gave her a quick smile.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you, Erin,” she told me.

“Me too,” I responded. “But I don’t know what to call you. When I asked Trent what you and your husband’s names were he said he just called you mom and dad,” I told her, sending Trent a quick angry glare as she laughed.

“That’s my son. A bit of a pain in the ass.” She smiled at Trent, and the affection I felt spread from one to the other was unmistakable. Sitting between them and seeing the depth of their relationship made me nervous. This was a man that could love, and felt my stomach clench at the thought. “You can call me Leah. The handsome old man sitting next to me,” she said gesturing towards her husband, “is Anthony.”

This was a family. Different in their own ways, I observed as Leah smiled as openly at her husband as Trent smiled at me. And while Anthony was more reserved than his wife and sons, he had an energetic undercurrent similar to that of his family that you could not ignore. Again, I forced my hands to sit still so I wouldn’t add twitchy basket case to Leah’s overall analysis of me.

I laughed easily throughout the night as I heard stories of Trent and Dave. I wasn’t surprised to hear that Dave was the trouble maker, but was genuinely taken aback to learn that Trent not only helped Dave clean up his mess, but had also taken the blame for things he hadn’t done so Dave could get some sort of reprieve. Stellar, top notch guy, I thought as I took hold of Trent’s hand and placed it on my lap.

“How am I gonna win Erin over if you keep tellin’ lies about me?” Dave wanted to know, and I laughed, feeling like a part of them. I tried to memorize the lightness I felt in my heart at that moment because I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel it again.

“No worries, Dave,” I winked at him. “We’ll always have the memories of your tighty-whities,” I told him, forcing him to retell the story of how he came out of his apartment wearing nothing but his underwear to his parents.

Leah shook her head at her son in mock shame as Anthony did nothing to hide his amusement. “He was always awful. No respect for others,” Leah told me, and Trent agreed.

After dinner, Trent guided me to the dance floor where he assumed I’d know what I was doing. But with soft pop blaring from the speakers and no alcohol in my system, I felt like an alien afraid to respond to the stimuli around me. But I let Trent take me to the dance floor and I felt my body move to the beat while Trent maneuvered my body with his hand on my bare back.

I smiled into his eyes and felt my eyes crinkle from the full extent of my smile. Once the song stopped, I draped my arms around Trent’s neck and leaned my face towards his until our lips met.

“I’ve got a headache,” Trent told me once we finished kissing. “We should go home,” he said with a gleam in his eyes that told me what he actually meant. We were going to his apartment, not because of a fabricated headache, but because his body had reached its limit. He couldn’t resist me any longer.

We said our goodbyes to Trent’s family and I felt myself blush when Dave accused Trent of not having a headache. With his eyebrows arched too high, Dave punched his brother on the shoulder and wished us luck. I wanted to flip Dave the finger, but restrained myself because of Trent’s parents. Instead I also punched him on the shoulder and Trent and I laughed when he visibly winced.

“That’s what you get,” Leah admonished him.

We were in the car for only a couple minutes when Trent veered off under a bridge and parked his car. Unable to maintain his composure, he removed his seatbelt and leaned towards me. I quickly removed my seatbelt and pushed Trent towards the backseat. Trent kissed me longingly, as if he hadn’t touched me in years and was ready to burst if he couldn’t have me immediately.

I knew it wasn’t the time to take things slow, but it was the first time I had more control than him, so I pushed him back gently and held up my hand, telling him to wait. With my eyes trained on him, I undid his pants and dominated his body. My own body deceived me, and shook with the overall control Trent was allowing me to have over him. I relished in it, but lost myself when Trent sneaked in a kiss that freed that savage in me. I could barely hear Bruno Mars on the radio singing Just the Way You Are as Trent and I let go and raced each other towards our frenzied end.

That night in bed, Trent held me closer to him than usual. He kept caressing me, kissing me, making me feel complete. I curled my body into him and kissed his chest. With each touch, I knew there was something he wanted to tell me so I waited to see if he found his voice. Eventually, he did.

“My mom’s an alcoholic,” he told me but his hands held me so tightly I could not move my body so I could see him. “Dave doesn’t remember much of it; he was too young. But I remember,” he said, and I could hear the pain in his voice.

“Trent,” I said, trying to get up but he held me where I was, not ready to let me go. Which was fine. I didn’t want to go anywhere, just offer whatever support or compassion I could.

“My dad had a good job so it didn’t matter that she didn’t work. She got angry when she drank, and she drank often. Even when she was pregnant, that didn’t stop her.” He shook his head. “I was eight when I told my dad to leave her and he just shook his head at me. He loved her too much. My mom heard us talk though, and holy shit,” he laughed into my hair, “she came out like a bat out of Hell and started hitting me and my dad. My dad blocked her away from me so she’d only hit him. Repeatedly she’d hit him and scream at him to leave her. He let her go on till she got tired and laid down on the ground. When she woke up the next morning she had packed a bag. I thought she was leaving us, but she told me she was going to the hospital because she was sick and had to get better.” He stopped, maybe reminiscing what I had thought had been the perfect childhood. “She was gone for a long time before we could visit her. She eventually came home and we were happy for a long time before she relapsed for the first time. She went back to the treatment center a few times after that. Since then we go to this event every year. And every year I’m grateful that my mom has stayed sober another year.”

“And you’re not mad at her?” I asked, not fully understanding the strength of unconditional love.

“Mad at her?” he asked, and I felt him shake his head. “She didn’t give up, Erin. No matter how many times she fell, she dragged herself back up. How can I be mad at her?”

“So just like that, you forgave her?” I asked, pretty angry at the concept and grateful I hadn’t known that about Leah beforehand, because it would have been difficult for me to have liked her.

“Forgave her?” He shook his head at me, and I could feel his disappointment in my questions. “You really don’t get it. Look at her. She’s the strongest person I know.”

“How long has she been sober?” I asked, still not comprehending his forgiveness or the pedestal he had placed her on. To me, the words strength and addiction didn’t belong in the same sentence together.

“Her last relapse was shortly after Dave’s sixth birthday and just before my tenth. I was so proud of her because I had a feeling this would be the last time she had to go for treatment, and I was right. I even told my friends where she was when they asked about her on my birthday. So fifteen years. She’s been sober for fifteen years.”

I didn’t say anything to him because my mind was far too muddled with confusion to form a coherent thought. Instead, I curled deeper into Trent’s body and felt myself fall asleep as I thought of T.I.’s song Slide Show. Because what was life but looking back at a bunch of pictures, forever engraved in our minds, teaching us, guiding us, and sometimes repelling us from life itself.

Chapter 12

Shayna

She was going to have a family soon. A real family, Nate had promised her. She didn’t know what it meant, but she hoped Nate would be a part of it. He was nice and had taught her how to change her baby doll’s diaper.

She felt safe when he was around and had started to talk to him. She liked the way he laughed when she said something funny. She liked the way he made her forget the bad things that had happened to her. He made her almost forget that she was supposed to miss Momma.

Chapter 13

Erin

Camilla met us at Trent’s apartment after work to get ready for the Imagine Dragons concert. The three of us had decided to drive together while Brianna, Jermaine, and Tonya went in their own car. I sang and danced around the apartment in my bralette, jeans and flip flops while Camilla put on her crop bandeau top laced at the bottom with high rise jean shorts and sandals. Tonya had done my makeup and the outcome left me feeling fairly sexy.

Trent looked at us and shook his head in mock disapproval. “I’m going to jail tonight,” he told me, and I laughed at him, enjoying the look he gave me as I walked past him to the door.

“What are we listening to?” Camilla asked once we were in the car.

“Not Imagine Dragons,” Trent responded. “We’re already going to the concert, no need to listen to them before.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I pouted.

“Yeah,” Camilla agreed.

“One song,” I tried to compromise, but Trent was adamant.

“Because we won’t hear that song at the concert?” he asked sarcastically.

“You suck,” Camilla told him.

“Fine. Whiz Khalifa then,” I suggested.

“Alice Cooper,” he retorted.

“Akon.”

“Jethro Tull,” he laughed.

“T.I.”

“Beiber!” Camilla shouted, causing us to laugh.

“Why are we even together?” I asked Trent.

“No clue. You have horrible taste in music.”

“Me? At least the artists I listen to are of this century.”

“But you are kind of cute though.” He grabbed my hand and kissed it, making my cheeks flush a crimson red.

We wound up listening to the Chili Peppers with some Cranberries snuck in between. Trent pretended to protest listening to The Cranberries, but in all honesty, who could possibly dislike Dolores O’Riordan’s voice? Or the accompanying lyrics?

While the weather looked sketchy, I was deliriously happy the concert was outdoors and had packed blankets for us to sit on. If it rained, we’d get wet. And dance in the rain. I could already picture myself pointing my face towards the sky, wet and delirious with the ecstasy I found from live music.

I had been seventeen years old when I went to my first concert. My friends and I had gone to a small club where a heavy metal band had screamed their discontent about their life and the world around them. While the atmosphere itself had been bleak, the night had consisted of plenty of liquor, weed and laughter. As usual, my friends had been loud, boisterous, wanting to be recognized for the youth that emanated off of them. I had sat back and watched them, rarely ever speaking. Even then I had known I would never really fit in with them, but they hadn’t seemed to mind or even notice. That was what I liked most about my stoner friends; they had simply accepted me, never asking why I rarely talked.

But none of that mattered when I listened to the band. Their instruments cried out just as loudly as the screamer of the band, and drowned out any thoughts my brain tried to form. So I sat back and listened. In those moments, I had felt ethereal. Somehow, the worries that had become a part of me had lifted, leaving me with a small but weightless reprieve.