My Blue River

This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or person, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright ©2015 by Leslie Trammell. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Cover design by Leslie Trammell

Cover photo courtesy of Kathy Fields

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition February 2015

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Parachute, Imagine Dragons, Ralph Lauren, Versace, Chevrolet, Ford, Vogue, eBay, Land Rover, Jeep Wrangler, Cheerios, Our Town, Wranglers, Jimmy Choo, Bloomingdales, Nike, Aston Martin, Mini Cooper, iPod, Hollywood, San Diego State University, Ben-Gay, Harley-Davidson, Hollister, Coppertone, Coca Cola, Ropers, and Disneyland.

To my family with all my love

(which includes my in-laws because I

have the best in-laws in the entire world!)

To my parents who have always

loved me and supported my decisions.

To my husband, Lane, who was

patient during this

seven year journey.

He put up with a lot and

encouraged me the entire way.

To my three daughters,

Hannah, Emily, and Abby,

whose love, patience, and understanding

helped make my dream possible.

PROLOGUE

I was mesmerized by the flickering flames until the occasional crackle sent a spark to the dark sky. I followed each spark until they disappeared, much like I was about to do.
This is probably the last time I will ever enjoy a bon-fire on a beach.
Despite my sadness,
I smiled as I heard waves crashing onto the sandy beach. I took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Sheridan.

Sheridan was my best friend in the entire world. We had been glued to each other’s sides since elementary school, but thanks to my mom, and if I were to be honest, my brother Aaron, that glue was about to be pried from our bodies.

“I’m thinking about how my life has suddenly become a train wreck and how I owe it all to my mother,” I spat the words. I wasn’t angry at Sheridan, just the situation.

“I know, right? She’s not even my mom and I’m not sure I’ll forgive her for this. I don’t get it. Just because baby boy Aaron is an addict, you have to move to Montana?” She asked.

“Yeah, how jacked is that? My mom has got to be the worst therapist in the entire world.”

“Why aren’t they just throwing his ass in rehab?”

“Good question.”

Aaron’s issues were definitely causing a problem in the family but that was only part of it. I wasn’t sure why, but for months my mom and I had not been getting along either. It seemed like all we did was fight at the mention of pretty much anything like what college I would attend, what my major would be, who I dated, and what I wore. I ended up resenting her for not trying to understand me. However, I omitted telling Sheridan that my Dad was in love with Montana. Moving there had been a long-time dream. He was taking full advantage of this crazy idea that if we moved to a small town in Montana, Aaron would somehow become rehabilitated by having busy hands and fresh air. My dad was the complete opposite of my mom. He was always on my side and that made him my hero; I would never make him look bad to Sheridan or anyone.
This is one hundred percent Aaron and Mom’s fault.

Right about that moment, Mason Connors came stumbling over to where Sheridan and I sat discussing my imminent move.

“What’s up, girl?” Mason was trying to be flirtatious, but since he’d had one too many drinks, his behavior was disgusting. He was a complete turn off. We had broken up months ago and for me, the relationship was nothing more than a faded memory.

Now I’ll never have a boyfriend. Montana is probably filled with cow crap and cowboys and neither appeal to me.

“Dude, you reek!” exclaimed Sheridan.

Between the cigars and whiskey, Mason stunk to high heaven. On some level, I think that’s what made me find him so unattractive because honestly, he was extremely attractive, but I just couldn’t seem to be interested in him.
Maybe it’s because his drunken demeanor reminds me of Aaron.

Aaron was my little brother and at the young age of fifteen, he already had a drug and alcohol addiction. I was all of seventeen and knew it and yet my parents, in all their irrational thinking, thought we should just move to a small, disgusting town in Montana and that would remove him from his vices
.

Sheridan was ready to run interference for me. She was gorgeous, popular, and most of all, bold. “Mason, get lost,” she commanded. “Can’t you see Addy is upset about her last night here?”

“What the…this is your last night here?” Mason inquired.

“I can see you’ve taken our breakup pretty hard, Mason,” I retorted. “You didn’t even know that I’m moving tomorrow, as in thirteen hundred miles away?”

“Ah, that sucks,” he replied as he staggered around the fire.

“Yeah, it totally sucks. Now, go piss in the ocean or something and leave us alone,” commanded Sheridan.

As directed, Mason took off and literally went to pee in the ocean.

I turned to her. “Thanks. I didn’t want to deal with him tonight.”

“No problem. That’s what best friends are for, right?”

“Let’s run away,” I pleaded.

“I wish but I’ve got a good life here in San Diego, sorry, girlfriend. Besides, you’ll be back next year for college.”

“True, if I survive life in the country. As soon as I graduate, I’m coming home.”

In the distance I heard Aaron holler, “Hey, Addy! I’m missing curfew! Make something up for me, k?”

“Ugh. How’d he find us?” groaned Sheridan.

I turned around and waved at him one finger at a time.
He gets my meaning.

This is seriously the worst night of my life.

********

I wiggled my toes in the warm summer sand. My nose tingled as the salty spray from the ocean reached my face. I smiled as I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, embracing the sun's rays on my face. I love you ocean! I love you California! When I looked back to the horizon, something had changed. The water rushing over my feet was cold. It wasn't the same temperature as the Pacific Ocean; it was colder. Looking up, I noticed the water was flanked by soaring pine trees that looked like castle spires. I looked back to the water again. It was blue…the bluest water I had ever seen. I sniffed the air, but it didn’t smell right. I couldn’t detect salt in the air. I looked to the beach again and it didn’t look right either. It didn’t stretch out endlessly like it usually does, instead it was met with an embankment. Where am I? Something feels very different about this beach. It didn't feel bad…just…different. In some ways, I felt out of place yet in other ways, I wanted to stay right here forever in this blue water.

1. Unforgivable

“I’M—NOT—MOVING!” I shrilled as I planted myself in the middle of my bedroom floor. The words echoed off the walls of the empty room. Everything I owned had been taken hours ago by the movers. I crossed my legs and held my camera tightly to my chest, willing myself to become an immovable statue. The sting of my salty tears had passed and what remained was the sting of reality. There was no stopping what was about to happen to my life.

Besides being glued to Sheridan, I had two other passions in life—my love for California and photography. Today was moving day but not for me, if I could help it. It was ridiculously unfair. I had been born and raised in Southern California.
My parents should be committed to an insane asylum.
What kind of parents move their daughter at the start of her senior year of high school?

I had already said goodbye to every part of my bedroom. I touched each wall with a sentimental passion that said, “Bye, buddy, I’ll miss you.” If the walls could talk they would tell the story of my life. They would tell of my mom and dad reading me bedtime stories. They would tell of Aaron and I playing together the way good siblings should, before things went horribly wrong with him. They would tell the stories of Sheridan and I revealing details of our first crushes and our first kisses.

My mom, Maggie, let out a heavy sigh, then wearily insisted, “Yes, you are. Adelaide. Please get up and get in the car. We have a long drive ahead of us so we need to leave
now
.” I knew she was growing impatient with my antics, but I no longer cared. I wanted her to feel the same irritation I was feeling.

I mocked her with silence and remained firmly planted in my spot. It reminded me of the time I plopped myself down in the middle of Main Street Disneyland, refusing to leave. I was eight years old when I did that but this time I looked even more ridiculous. I wasn’t a cute little girl whose actions were met with the smiles of strangers whispering, “Oh, how cute.” I was now a young woman of seventeen who knows better, but feels unable to stop her anger-fueled actions.

“Addy, you need to get to the acceptance part of this situation,” declared Mom.

I broke my silence. “Hmpf.”

Every time my mother used terms like “denial” and “acceptance” in the last several months I nearly threw up, literally feeling bile rise in the back of my throat.
I bet this entire plan was Mom’s. She must be burned out on being a therapist because this is the lamest rehab program I have ever heard of!
They weren’t even considering what they were about to do to my life.
This is completely unforgivable.

“Hey, dudes…whaz up?” asked Aaron. His thick, stoned, tongue grated on my nerves like finger nails scraping down a chalkboard.

I leaped from my spot and charged him. I could tell he was stoned or drunk—his substance of choice didn't really matter to me. What mattered was that he was higher than a kite.

Pointing straight at Aaron I yelled, “He’s high right now, Mom! He’s high right in front of your face!” I threw my hands in the air in frustration. “This is just amazing! You’re a terrific parent.” My tone was cold, hard, and sarcastic.

Mom rounded on him fast, her red hair flying everywhere, “Aaron? Are you high?” She demanded an answer while inspecting his eyes.

“Uh…no?” he replied.
What an idiot!
He couldn’t even make himself sound convincing. He just stood there—unkempt blond hair and glazed-over green eyes—looking like he was about to fall over.

“Of course he’s high! Can’t you tell?” I yelled in disbelief.

Nearly eye-to-eye in height, Mom and Aaron stood staring at each other. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t saying anything. She looked just as foolish as Aaron sounded. She wasn’t yelling; she wasn’t disciplining him—she was just staring at him—almost looking straight through him. It was as if Mom had run out of words and no longer knew what to say.
I think she’s given up
. She no longer knew what parenting strategy would fix her son and frankly, I knew she was exhausted from this battle. We all were.

“Nice,” I said flatly. I shoved my taller frame past my mom and stopped at Aaron. I hissed through my teeth, “You suck, you little brat!” I poked one index finger hard into his chest. He flinched at my touch and averted his eyes from mine. He was guilty of ruining everyone’s lives and he knew it.

I pounded down the stairs without looking back. My life was over and nothing would ever be the same again. I found my seat in my mom’s gold Mercedes SUV and stared blankly out the window. I felt my dad’s eyes on me, but refused to meet his gaze. A lone tear escaped and trickled down my cheek, but I refused to wipe it away.

As we pulled away, I announced, “I’ll co-serve Aaron’s sentence in Montana, but I’ll never forgive you! When I graduate from hillbilly high school, I’m gone. I’ll be right back here in California before any of you can blink an eye.”