The Death of Lila Jane (5 page)

“Seriously, Lila. You need to get out of the house more,” My brother propped himself against the door frame with his shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you need to learn how to knock!”

“And wait to hear you say
come in
?” He stared at me for a moment before he pointed to his ear and what he meant finally clicked.

“Or wait for
me
to answer it.” Bringing my hand toward my mouth, I touched my fingertips together to sign for him to shut up but he only laughed, shaking his head.

“Why you wanting to go to the mall?” He asked, his eyebrow raising in suspicion.

“I just want to get some new clothes for school,” I struggled to keep my tone even but judging by the look on my brother’s face, I knew I had failed at my attempted lie.

“I don’t even have to be able to
hear
you to be able to
listen
. The truth is written all over your nervous face. At this rate, you won’t have any fun before college.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why are you so concerned about what I do anyway?”

“I’m your big brother.”

I exhaled an exaggerated groan as I pushed from my floor, brushing off my bottom even though I knew my carpet was spotless. I jerked my head to motion over my shoulder. My brother hurried across the room and gently shoved me out of the way as his eyes narrowed.

“Wait… you like Daven?” He turned toward me, his face scrunched up in confusion. Shrugging my shoulders I dropped my gaze, feeling like a fool. “I thought you and Bridget had a thing.”

“Wait…
what
? No, not Daven, you dumbass. He’s like… elderly. His nephew.”

Laughter burst from him and I grabbed my pillow, slamming it against his chest and causing him to stumble back into the window. Lurching forward, I grabbed his arm to pull him back before he fell through the glass.

“That’s not funny.”

“Why not?” He asked, jerking his arm from my grip before running his hand through his dark hair to smooth it back into place. “Bridget is cute.”

“I am cute,” Bridget said with an amused smirk as she stepped into my room. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my pillow from the floor and tossed it back to my bed.

“You could learn to knock,” I groaned.

“And miss out on your sexy brother talking about me?” Her eyebrow rose as she ran her tongue out over her lips.

“You’re not his type.”

“I’m
everybody’s
type,” she shrugged, dropping her purse to the floor, unfazed. Bridget knew all about my brother’s tumultuous relationship with Danny. “So where is this super-hot guy you’ve been drooling over?” 

“I need your dirty laundry if you want to have anything to wear to school,” My mom yelled from downstairs. Her voice was muffled by the sound of our robot vacuum as it bounced off the kitchen cabinets. I rolled my eyes, hoping she’d just leave me alone. School was a few days away and the last thing on my mind. “Lila Jane, do you hear me?”

“Be right back,” I sighed dramatically as I grabbed the overflowing wicker basket of laundry I had already gathered and sat by my bedroom door.

“Coming,” I trudged down the carpeted steps to the first floor of our home and dropped the basket at my mother’s feet. She gave me a hard stare, scrutinizing my makeup before she picked it up and dumped it into her brand new front-load washing machine. It was top of the line and even had a small LCD screen built into the front of it. Nothing was too good for mom and dad… or good enough. 

“What have you been doing up there?”

“Reading Romeo & Juliet. It’s going to be a required read this year.” I’d seen the movie a million times and I absolutely despised the premise. A broken heart isn’t the end of the world; it is the end of a chapter. And no boy was worth your life.

“Glad to see you are taking it seriously, although it is kind of late in the summer to try to get a head start.” She ran a free hand through her long, chestnut-brown hair with hints of auburn that was identical to mine. I rolled my eyes at her thinly veiled insult as she pressed the empty basket against my stomach. I took it with a groan of annoyance.

“I’m trying mom. We can’t all be like Elik.”

“I don’t want you to be like Elik, I just want you to care about your future.” Her gaze dropped to the basket in my hands.

“What makes you think I don’t?” Nevertheless, her argument was never changing and I’d grown exhausted trying to defend myself. There was no future in art she’d say. I’d never tell her that she was right. No one would pay for a painting anymore when they could openly ogle a surgically altered woman on the street or live stream the ballad of a broken heart on their MacBook. Art was dead, killed by convenience.

“Lila Jane, watch your tone,” My mother’s jade eyes narrowed as she put her hands on her wide hips. “You kids think you know everything,” she mumbled. I bit my tongue, not reiterating the fact that my IQ had surpassed both of my parent’s when I was still in middle school. It would only exasperate the situation.

My mother led the fight against the new Collective Common teaching standards last year, banding together with the other wine drinking soccer moms to protest teaching the children to be smarter than them. They argued they couldn’t help us with our homework any longer. My mother hadn’t helped with my homework since the first grade unless you count ADHD medication to keep me focused. But now she felt threatened, inferior even, as the world moved to surpass the last generation and make room for the next.

My mother was brilliant, don’t get me wrong. She was going to be a lawyer too, just like my father, but she became a mother instead and the consolation prize didn’t suit her. 

The last thing I needed was to be grounded on top of it all even though that only meant I’d lose access to the internet and my eReader would be held hostage. I rarely left the house on my own and if I did, it was to jog or take a bike ride.

But with high school fast approaching, I was desperate to come out of my shell and mingle with my peers in hopes of making some lasting memories. Maybe even make a few friends. Right now the count was at one, Bridget Lane, the only person who didn’t gag when they saw me coming and I was confident she was in my room hitting on my gay big brother as we speak.

Just that thought alone of socializing made my heart palpitate. I always fumbled over my words when I tried to talk to others, tripping over my own rambling thoughts.

I was never bullied or beaten, only ignored. I would argue that being treated as if I didn’t exist was a far worse punishment than taunts and teases. Sticks and stones, they say, break your bones and words can never hurt you. But silence has become deafening and living inside of my own head has been my own personal prison filled with self-doubt and loneliness. I was just one of the lucky millions affected by social anxiety among other things. I was shy and I was exhausted from trying so damn hard. Now I was shy and heavily medicated.

But no matter how loudly society screamed that something was wrong with me, I knew I wasn’t the problem. Not really. Soon little orange bottles would line my shelves, one for each mood I needed to program myself to feel. I was becoming my mother. I was becoming like all the others.

August 6, 2015

My hand moved furiously across the page as I unleashed everything I had felt since my trip began. A cigarette hung from my lips and smoke billowed, obscuring my vision as the pen sliced holes in the paper, smudging ink on my fingertips.

***

June 3, 2014

The words rolled over again and again in my head, but I couldn’t process them.

“She’s gone, Kaden.”

My eyes flicked to the doorway thinking she had just gone out for a walk and would be stepping in at any moment, her infectious laughter filling the air and my heart once more.

But as I waited, my feet locked into place as the rest of me swayed in dizzying panic, I knew that she was no longer here. I could feel it… or not feel it anymore as it may be. My chest was now a cavernous hole as numbness settled in the depths of my core.

My hands moved on their own accord sending glass raining in violent crashes as her name ripped painfully from my throat. I screamed until my voice cracked and wavered, overtaken by sobs. My vision was next to go, blurred and stinging by tears as her image was forever washed in pain.

“She’s gone,” a voice repeated.

My body was overcome with exhaustion. My knees hit the wooden floor with a jolting thud, pain shooting up my thighs and radiating throughout my chest as I let my palms slap against the ground, my head hanging in defeat. I mumbled an incoherent prayer hoping someone, anyone was listening, but I was met with deafening silence. My faith was last to go.

Some would say I was too young to comprehend the gravity of such loss, that my heart was somehow less mature. But this crippling hurt was something I understood all too well. Society’s arbitrary rules as to what constituted adult or youth had no bearing on what I felt inside. Love is lawless. Life is temporary.

***

August 6, 2015

“You hungry?” Daven called from the living room where he was perched in front of the television once again. It was safe to assume this was the extent of his social life, living vicariously through fictional characters. Ashes fell on the notebook below as I pulled the cigarette from my mouth to respond.

“In a minute,” I called out as I pushed open the bedroom window, tossing the butt onto the ground outside before waving my hand in front of my face to disperse some of the fog. My skin was sticky from a thin sheen of sweat due to the oppressive fucking heat that pressed against my lungs, keeping me from inhaling fully.

My eyes danced over the scribbles and scratches I’d written, bleeding onto the page. If dying of a broken heart were possible, I would find my demise soon in her memories.

“Her soul, like sand, slipping through rough fingers,” I sang quietly to myself as I ripped the paper from the book and crumbled it in my palm. My throat tightened and began to close but I finished the line. “Fading from demand, but her memory still lingers.”

I shoved the notebook under my pillow and tossed the crumpled paper to the floor before leaving the room, wishing the ghosts of my past would remain behind as well, offering a few moments of peace.

The happy memories were now tainted with pain and I was no longer able to separate the two. My fingers began to flex as I thought about grabbing my acoustic guitar from my trunk and turning my jotted down rage into a full-length song. But since I’d lost Taylor, it killed me to think about playing it again without her by my side, humming along and swaying as I strummed. Sandy toes and sea salt laced kisses were some of my favorite memories of her. I couldn’t lose those too.

I stood in the narrow hallway and watched Daven for a moment. He was lost in the television show playing and oblivious to my presence. You could see the sadness in the tired lines that had begun to mar the edges of his eyes. He was much younger than my mother, around thirty years old, but had lived a hard existence. My mother had her share of pain as well, but persevered and overcame her demons. Daven had all but given up and I wasn’t sure if she sent me here to help me or for me to help him. One thing was sure, if I weren't careful, we would drag each other down.

I needed to get out of here. There had to be
something
going on in town tonight. I cringed, thinking about Daven giving me shit about how I wasn’t acting responsibly and I needed to get on a schedule for school. My mind drifted to the weirdo across the street that he had brought up more than once when talking about how I was
supposed
to act.

Why the hell would I want to stay locked away all day, watching everyone else live while my life passed me by?
Maybe  I could help us both out. She definitely needed to get out more and I could use an escape without having my motives questioned.

“What’s the name of that girl you wanted me to take to the mall?” I asked over the sound of canned laughter, scratching the back of my head nervously.

“Mais la
[34]
!” Daven pushed from his seat, his eyes widening before his grin spread. “That chere 'tite fille
[35]
is Lila Jane Newman. Not born on the bayou but I guess that Yankee blood is more your type now,” he teased with a wink.

“I’m not looking to date anyone. I just want to have someone to talk to.”

He cringed and I regretted my word choice, but I wasn’t ready to open up to family yet. I wasn’t prepared to open up to
anyone
. I wanted a chance to just hang out and not deal with my demons for one day. “Baby steps.”

He nodded before walking past me and into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge.

I hesitated before following him. “I’m serious.”

“F’ sho’,” he replied with a laughter in his voice that pissed me off. I clenched my jaw, swallowing back my frustration. It didn’t take much for my temper to get out of control and it terrified me that it was one of the qualities I’d inherited from my dad. It was one of the reasons I was no longer living with my mom. I couldn’t subject her to that again. And even though it broke her heart when I walked out of that door one last time, I refused to look back. 

“Just forget it,” I waved him away as I stormed off toward my room. I listened as the fridge slammed behind me and heavy footsteps approached me from behind.

“What is it wit’ you? I am just trying to get to know you, ya’.”

“Maybe I’m not looking to make friends,” I snapped as I paced the floor. I had no clue what it is I wanted but it clawed at my veins like an addict needing a fix.

“Then don’t.” He threw up his hands, exasperated, but his voice was calm. “This is your life, Kaden. I’m not trying to live it for you. I just want you to be happy.”

“Happy?” I snorted as my eyes narrowed in anger. “You didn’t seem to give a shit about my happiness when I was growing up. Now all of the sudden you want to interfere? Guilty conscious?”

“Kaden, we all made mistakes.”

“Mistakes? Is that what you call letting my mom get the shit beat out of her for years? What about me, huh? Was me getting tossed around the mistake or was it me ever being born?” My voice echoed off the walls in the sparsely decorated space. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized any reflection of his short life of his wife was missing. Only that dusty crib remained giving any hint to the turmoil that he’d experienced. He may not have left home but he had been running from his past, just like I had.

Daven shook his head, his eyes glossed over in regret but he did not back down. “If I could go back and change what happened to you, to your mamma, I would. I will
never
forgive myself for that.”

“Good,” I nodded, my anger coursing through my veins like wildfire. “Because I won’t ever forgive you for that either.”

My shoulder shoved against my uncle’s, causing him to stumble, as I walked by him and out of the front door. I slammed it so hard behind me the walls shook and my eyes locked on to that second story window across the street.

I glared up at the curtain, my hands clenched tightly at my sides as I watched the swath of fabric slowly move away. I took in the silhouette of Lila, the girl whose gaze had been watching me since I came to town. I’d had never met her but I’d been curious as to why she never seemed to step foot off their property. Her thin arm raised beside her and she waved before I yanked open my driver door and got in my car, fighting the urge to flip her off. Her mysterious existence pissed me off as much as it piqued my curiosity.
What kind of life was that anyway? What was the point of being locked away? Sure she was safe but she wasn’t actually enjoying life.
It pissed me off that I had so much pain and anguish and others got to hide behind that thin curtain, oblivious to the pain of others. I wanted to rip her from her gilded cage and force the world onto her just to watch her crumble. Misery loves company and I was nothing if not lonely.

The sun had sunk down in the sky behind the houses but the heat of the day still lingered in the air, suffocatingly oppressive. The vinyl of my seat slid against the slicked flesh of my arms as I shoved my key into the ignition and revved it to life.

I couldn’t get out of the small development fast enough and onto the highway. I didn’t care where I ended up as long as I could escape my past, even if just for a few hours.

Hell, by the end of the night, I wanted to forget who
I
was.

I pressed harder on the accelerator as the evening sky faded from baby blues and hot pinks to twinkling blackness. I tried to force the horrific flashes of my father from my mind, the guilt that always accompanied his memory was quick to follow. I was too young, too weak and small to defend my mother’s honor but it still haunted me. I hoped one day I would have the balls to hunt him down and pay him back for every nightmare I’d suffered.

Daven’s words from earlier floated around my subconscious. I wasn’t a man. I was still just a boy. One who’d remained silent when I was little to one who ran when I was forced to feel anything. I was no one’s hero. I couldn’t save my mother or Taylor or even myself. I needed someone to commiserate with and I knew just the place to take my mind off real life.

The gravel crunched beneath the tires of my old Impala as I parked beside the inconspicuous dilapidated building that leaned toward the left as if was intoxicated by the spirits within its walls. The sign on the front of the building read
Sunnyside
but it had looked as though the sun had set on this place long ago, leaving a withering shack in its wake.

My eyes danced over the crumbling exterior as I pulled open the heavy door. ShyAnn’s eyes met mine and she smirked as she averted her gaze to the mug in her hand that she was wiping clean. She told me her friends call her Shy but I couldn’t think of a bigger misnomer. This girl was wild and said exactly what was on her mind.

My tongue ran over my lower lip as my gaze traveled down over the curves of her body. Her lower half was hidden behind the bar but I knew she was wearing shorts that would barely cover her rear-end. “You’re lucky my mom and ‘dem ain’t here.” Her words came in a warning but her mouth curved up in a mischievous grin.

The small hole in the wall restaurant was nearly vacant, except for an elderly man who sat in a corner booth, pulling apart a roll and dipping it into his sweet tea to soften it. His skin hung from his bones like a paper-thin drape that appeared to collect dust just as everything else in this town.

I shoved my hands deep into my jeans pocket as I approached the little counter. ShyAnn ran her rag over the Formica top as she leaned forward, pushing her small chest into full view and I averted my gaze. It was too forward for my liking.

“What brings you out tonight?” Her hand went to her calico striped hair as she tucked it nervously behind her ear but a few of pieces of the multi-layered coif sprung back in front of her eyes.

“I needed to get away.” I cleared my throat as I sank down on one of the stools. It creaked and groaned with my weight and I steadied myself, worried I may hit the ground at any second.

“I know that feeling.” With a wink and a nod she turned to the large cooler behind her and grabbed a beer, popping off the top and sitting it down in front of me. “It will be our secret.”

ShyAnn and I were racking up our secrets. I’d only known her for six weeks but she was more than friendly. I’d already kissed her a few weeks ago but the heavy smell of her perfume turned my stomach. Or maybe she reminded me that I was going nowhere fast. Her future didn’t extend past this hole in the wall. She didn’t care if she ever left this place and the idea of being stuck here forever was one of my biggest fears. I was just passing through, bidding my time until I can put everyone and everything I knew behind me.

Unfortunately, no amount of alcohol was enough to erase the awkward exchange with Taylor from my memory. It was clear she hadn’t forgotten either judging by the way she eyed me like she was just waiting for us to be alone again.

“You got any plans tonight? There’s a party down at Tommy’s and his parents have a huge liquor cabinet.”

“Depends,” I picked up my bottle and took a drink before wiping my hand against my jeans to get rid of the condensation.

“On?” Her eyebrow rose, challenging me to say exactly what I was thinking, but hooking up with some random girl was the last thing on my mind. But that would be the perfect escape for the night and I wouldn’t have to take Lila to the mall. Hell, she might even enjoy herself, or finally realize I wasn’t nearly as fascinating as she thought I was and stop spying on me.