Love Me If You Dare (Safe Haven)

N
o
one who had loved Ella would be happy that I’d come home.

The
memories hit me like a battering ram, one solid blow that nearly knocked off me
feet as I slowly climbed out of my car, hiding behind the driver’s side door
like it was a shield.

I
stood for a moment, listening to the tick of the car’s engine as it cooled. The
heat of early summer in Oregon was heavy, thickening the air. Making it hard to
breathe.

I
almost turned around. Almost got back in the car to leave. The only thing that
kept me in place was the mental nudge that reminded me that I had nowhere else
to go, not for the next few months, anyway.

“Shit.”
Raking suddenly sweaty palms through the mess of my red curls, I surveyed the
yard, the house.

It
looked the same as it always had. Same stucco, same wraparound porch. Same
apple tree whose sturdy branches were too close to Ella’s bedroom window.

I
shuddered and turned away from the tree, from the dappled shadows it cast on
the sun-drenched lawn. There was no point diving back into those memories. This
summer was going to be hard enough without remembering
that
.

“Buck
up, Sawyer. You don’t have a choice.” I sank my teeth into my lower lip, hoping
the bite of pain would help me shake off the dread that weighed me down like
two fat monkeys perched on my back.

From
down the street a car honked. It jolted me out of my reverie, and I turned to
survey the boxes that were crammed into the Focus hatchback that had been a
high school graduation gift from my dad.

Ella
had gotten one, too. I had no idea what had happened to hers. I’d never asked.

“Here
we go.” I decided to leave most of the boxes for later, grabbing the handle of
the one suitcase that held my essentials. The hard plastic dug into the clammy
flesh of my palm as I lugged it across the lawn.

“Mom?”
I called as I shoved open the front door of the house I hadn’t entered in three
years. I knew no one would answer me. At seven o’clock in the evening my mother
would be seated on a bar stool at Stems, the gaudy, neon-lit wine and martini
bar a block away. 

Colors
and smells and silence assaulted me as I stepped into the empty house.
Blanching, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the door. Maybe I’d head
down to Stems and pour Mom into my car, take her for something to eat. We could
talk... or maybe not. Prolong the inevitable.

I
turned, headed back down the stairs to get another arm load of my stuff from
the car. There was a half empty bottle of vodka in one of them, the other half consumed
by my roommate and I as we celebrated finishing finals.

To
unpack my things and acknowledge that I would be here for a while, I had a
feeling that I was going to need it.

***

T
hree
hours later, my back was aching. I was sweaty and my throat was dry as dust.
Feeling I’d earned a break, I made my way to the kitchen and leaned into the
coolness inside the fridge as I scavenged on the nearly empty shelves and found
a can of root beer at the back.

“Ella?”

I
jolted and screeched, root beer sloshing out of my can as I whirled in the
direction the voice had come from.

The
woman who stared back at me with wide eyes was lost in a cloud of gin and vodka
fumes. Her hair was pale red, this woman who looked so much like both my lost
sister and myself and yet was nothing like either.

“Kaylee.
It’s Kaylee, Mom. I’m home for the summer, remember?” Sighing, I placed my soda
on the counter and reached for a questionable dish towel to mop sticky soda off
of myself before I crossed the room to help her into a chair. As I approached I
saw her blink again, her vision seeming to clear as she took me in.

“Right.
Of course.” Was that disappointment that flashed across her face? It was gone
before I could say for certain, but it hurt anyway. “Sorry, honey.”

I
refused to address the slip. Our family, myself included, was great at brushing
things under the rug, even major things, like my dad’s unfaithfulness, my
parents’ divorce.

All
the things that had been wrong with Ella. With me.

“Have
you eaten?” I felt myself slipping almost seamlessly back into the role of the
good daughter as I settled Mom at the kitchen table and helped her off with her
jacket. She propped her head on her hands heavily, watching me with a hint of
puzzlement on her face.

“No.”
Her voice was vague, which meant that she couldn’t remember. I sighed, then
started opening the cupboards, searching for food.

I
winced when I realized that most of them were bare.

“Mom,
when’s the last time you went grocery shopping?” I sank my teeth into my lower
lip as soon as the words slipped past my mouth.

It
was clear that she hadn’t gone for a very, very long time. The cupboards were
empty, but there were boxes of empty bottles at the back door.

If
I’d been here...

I
shook the thought out of my head immediately. If I let myself, I’d spiral into
a never ending circle of that game, and would find the entire sense of self
that I’d fought to obtain in college going right down the drain.

“I’m
going to make you some soup.” A spark of resentment that hadn’t been there
three years ago flared to life inside of me as I located a small saucepan and
rinsed the dust out of its depths. The back of one cupboard revealed two cans
of tomato soup, both expired but only just.

Until
I could go to the store the next day, it would have to do. I set one into the
electric opener and thumped the other down by the sink to be thrown away, knowing
that mom likely wouldn’t eat much.

I
hadn’t had supper either, but I didn’t have much appetite.

“S’good
to have you home, baby.” My mom muttered as I slid a bowl of soup in front of
her. She swirled the spoon into the bowl, lifting it and watching the stream of
red fall back down as I swallowed past my irritation.

I
wanted to ask who she was talking to this time—myself or my dead sister— but
refrained. The old Kaylee would never have had the guts or even the need to ask
that—but then, the old Kaylee had been the good daughter, the dutiful one who
followed her mess of a family around, sweeping up the disaster that they left
behind.

Ella—Ella
would never in a million years have catered to our drunken mother. She would
have let her wake up the next morning in a puddle of her own puke as a lesson.

But
as I stared at my mom, as my past and my present collided, I knew I would never
have been able to do that. I still couldn’t. But I had been gone for three
years, and I was a different person now.

***

I
t
took half an hour for my mom to eat part of her soup and for me to haul her
upstairs and into bed. Exhausted, I closed the door behind her and collapsed on
the top stair.

How
did she manage when I wasn’t here?

Scrubbing
my hands over eyes that were painfully dry, I thought about how hard I’d tried
to escape all of this at school. How I’d tried to be someone different.

But
now I was back, and it was impossible to sit here and not fall back into some
of my old habits. The ones that had made me so different from the twin who had
been full of life.

Though
we’d been fraternal twins, Ella and I had still looked enough alike to give
people pause, even our parents from time to time. My hair was bright copper,
and hers had been a paler shade of gold kissed with rose. I’d been taller,
slimmer—when we’d hit puberty, she was the one who’d gotten the curves.

Though
we both had the same wide caramel colored eyes and rosy toddler cheeks, she’d
looked infinitely more innocent than I had.

But
she was the one who had been more wicked. She’d been the trouble maker to my
good girl. The fun one. To the people of this town—to my family—I was the twin
who was just... less.

In
my pocket Muse blasted, making me jolt and sending the dancing dust motes and
the memories flying.

THIBODEAU,
JOEL.

Pinching
my lips together, I lowered my voice as I answered, though I didn’t quite know
why—when mom was sleeping off a bender, an airplane could land in our house and
she’d be none the wiser.

“Hey.”
I forced a smile to my lips, hoping that it would be reflected in my voice.
“Sorry I didn’t call earlier, I was unloading the car.”

This
was my attempt to deflect the guilt trip that I knew was on its way. But I was
unsettled enough by being back in this house that I hadn’t wanted to face the
accusation that would have been woven into the fabric of Joel’s voice when I
called.

From
the other end of the line I heard a stilted sigh, then the voice that, after
two years, was nearly as familiar to me as my own.

“I
figured as much.” Joel’s voice was part of what had attracted me to him—it was
smooth, cultured, like the nice wine that always sounded better than it tasted,
at least to me.

“Sorry.”
I winced as I apologized again. Though we were currently in the off-again stage
of our long relationship, I always felt the need to apologize to him.

Though
I didn’t say it, we both knew I was apologizing for more. I was saying sorry
for the fact that, even after two years, I wasn’t able to commit to him for any
length of time. That I couldn’t dredge up any feelings for him beyond
friendship.

“I’m
just glad you’re there okay. That’s a long drive by yourself.” I knew Joel
would have driven out here with me if I’d let him, whether we were on or off.
He truly cared about me—truly loved me.

I
wished that I could love him back. Joel was safe. Joel was from a good, solid
family, on his way to law school, didn’t even drink. He’d be able to give me a
good life. I was even attracted to him—hell, he was hot, with a baby face,
thick brown hair, and a body that he kept fit in the gym at school.

But
the attraction that I felt for him was like... it was like lemonade on a hot
summer day when what you really craved was the wicked punch of a strong
margarita. He satisfied the thirst, but since I’d once had a taste of the
combination of salt, of tangy lime, of tequila all together, I’d never be happy
with anything else. This was why, after so much on and off, I’d finally told
Joel that we were done for good last week.

I
don’t think he’d believed me, since we’d been back and forth so much throughout
the course of our relationship. But I meant it.

He
deserved better than I could give him. He deserved someone who wasn’t still hopelessly
thirsting for a taste of that margarita.

I
struggled to shove the boy who represented that drink from my mind. Dylan
wasn’t going to be happy I was back, any more than I was.

“So.
What did you get up to today?” I asked, pulling at a loose thread in the hem of
my tank top. Joel was one of those rare ones who had gone to school close to
home. He’d hoped that I’d be sticking close again this summer, and had made no
secret of the fact that he’d love it if I turned our relationship back to “on”.

“Went
into the office.” Joel worked for his dad in the summers, doing whatever needed
to be done at the legal office to gain experience.

I
frowned.

“I
thought you weren’t supposed to start until next week. Isn’t he going to give
you a break at all?”

I
could picture the shrug that accompanied the noncommittal grunt.

“I
don’t have anything else to do. Thought I might as well get started.” There was
no accusation overt in Joel’s voice, but I knew it was there, hidden beneath
that smoothness in his tone.

“Joel,
I couldn’t find a job there this summer.” My words were a bite, the sharp edges
honed from being home. “You think I’d have come back here if I’d had a choice?”

There
was a tense pause. I drummed my fingers on the hardwood of the steps with
irritation.

“I
don’t know anymore, Kaylee, what you would or wouldn’t do.”

I
felt as though he’d slapped me across the face, though his words weren’t
anything he hadn’t said to me before.

“What’s
that supposed to mean?’ I knew what it meant, knew exactly, but somehow needed
him to say it. In this house things were always hidden away, buried beneath.

It
was my small way of rebelling, of fighting back in a way that I couldn’t
usually manage when underneath this roof.

“It
means that no matter how much I think I know you, I really don’t.” To his
credit, Joel didn’t sound overly bitter—just tired. A fist squeezed my heart,
knowing that I’d done that to him.

“Joel...”
I started, then halted as panic overtook me. Joel and my best friend Serena had
been the only two constants in the last few years of my life, the only people
who truly loved me for me.

But
could I even make that claim, when neither of them knew about Ella? When
neither of them knew that the Kaylee I was at school back in New Haven, Connecticut—the
party girl, the good time girl, the girl who existed to wring the most out of
life—wasn’t really me at all?

At
school I wore my sister’s attitude like a dress that I never took off. In that
way she never died... and I never had to deal with the fact that I was the
reason she was gone.

“Don’t
say it.” There was that tiredness again, painting his voice a deep shade of
blue. My heart was heavy as I listened to the man who had never really stood a
chance with me. “Let’s just leave it. We’ll talk in a few days.”

“Joel,
remember what we agreed. This is done. We can be friends, but that’s it.” My
own words were quiet. “Maybe, until we get used to it, we shouldn’t talk for a
while.”

There
was a long moment of silence.

“I
hope you find what you’re looking for.” Joel’s tone was laced with something I
couldn’t quite understand as we ended the call, and as I sat on that top step,
my fingers turning my phone over and over.