The Glass Secret (Chain of Secrets) (23 page)

After I met Jude it seemed as if my parents were giving me a lot of attention, more so than Brett, which was unusual. They were definitely keeping a closer eye on me. Surely, they had noticed how I laced Jude’s name into most of my banter. 

Dad’s choice to visit St. Augustine turned out to be a great idea after all. The old things from the past intrigued me, which marked a pivotal point in my life. Vacationing in St. Augustine culminated new interests within me—my love for vintage furniture, history and ghost stories. Not to mention that the trip,
both trips
, in fact, provided me with my first taste of romance, at least, as much as I would dare to experience at that young of an age. I actually fell for that quaint little town by the water and falling for an older, a much older boy, definitely set the stage for my future and then some.

That spring I blossomed from an awkward fifteen-year old girl into a young woman, and as my image changed, so did my feelings about many things. With all of this, I began to enjoy my time in St. Augustine and stopped making everyone else so miserable.

Surely, my parents espied that my attitude changed one hundred and eighty degrees overnight when they noticed the elaborate effort to pump up my grooming habits. Every morning I woke up with the sun, rather than my typical pattern of sleeping in past noon. I took a bath and styled my hair. I also snuck into my mother’s makeup and dabbed on a dollop of her pink blush and some lip-gloss. Less is more, I thought. Nothing too over-done or too noticeable, no more European baths for me on this trip, and no more hobo rumpled up outfits.

It was so apparent that I was experiencing my first crush. Surely, it showed on my face, in my eyes and in my smile. I tried to keep my feelings hidden, but the chemicals inside me were bursting at the seams. I even put a new swing in my walk.

“Brielle, you are going to slip a disc if you keep walking like that,” my mother said.

“Do you think it’s too much?” I asked.

“Not if you are practicing to be stripper.”
Ouch, nothing like your mother being blunt.
Thank God, she noticed before I took my va-va-voom walk into public; that would have been disastrous.

I picked up an iron for the first time in my life in St. Augustine and made my way toward the old schoolhouse. There was no way I would be caught dead by Jude in wrinkled clothes. As much as I wanted him to notice me, I hoped he didn’t recognize me from our first encounter. He didn’t and if he did he never rubbed it in my face.

How ironic—I was on spring break, but spending half my vacation at the old schoolhouse. What gives? Although I made sure to see Jude everyday, I never stepped inside the haunted place ever again. I wasn’t going to risk another encounter with a ghost. Rather than going inside, I would listen to Jude’s spiel from the porch as he gave the tours to crowd after crowd.

His voice was music to my ears. I floated on air every time I heard him speak; he was so well spoken. I actually suffered from physical reactions when he was close to me. When he would approach me, lumps in my throat stifled my words, knots twisted in my stomach and my palms would sweat profusely. Dang, it felt like I had the flu. He took my breath away. I was in love.

Between each tour, he would sit with me on the steps of the old schoolhouse. I would fetch us old fashion cream sodas from the nearby gift shop, and we would talk for hours. During our conversations, I learned that he was attending college and studying to be a teacher.

“How ironic, my father is a professor at NYU,” I told him. I was careful not to refer to him as my dad and instead used formal terminology. I felt like this made me sound older.

Jude was a linguist; he spoke five languages. I absolutely loved it when he used a French accent. It was very romantic. It was his dream to teach English abroad one day.

As I had originally estimated, I discovered he was much more than five years my senior. On his next birthday, he would be twenty-two years old, March twenty-second—I told him it would be his luckiest birthday. He just smiled. It was my secret wish that we would spend his birthday together.

I also learned that Jude had a twin sister. Unfortunately, she passed away from a terrible illness when they were very young. He told me that I reminded him of her and with that it settled in my mind that he saw me as a mature young woman. Therefore, I did my best to talk about smart topics around him. I wanted to prove to him that I was old enough to be his girl one day. He shared that he had a tattoo of his sister’s name, Jacquie, on the back of his neck. How sweet was that? He said that he could feel her spirit sometimes with him still. This gave me chills. What if the ghost I felt was her spirit? Perhaps she was trying to tell me something. Maybe it was a warning or a sign. I kept these thoughts to myself and from Jude. I didn’t want to upset him. They were very close. They say twins are very connected in this way. I felt I knew everything about Jude, or so I thought.

-25-

Invisible moments

On the last day of our vacation, I skipped breakfast and ran all the way to the schoolhouse to say goodbye to Jude. He was just opening up for the day, and I had spent all morning working up the nerve to ask him to take a photo with me in front of the schoolhouse. I wanted a keepsake of where he saved my life from the ghost and of course, him—my first love.

When he wrapped his arm around my shoulder for the photo, my knees wobbled in perfect rhythm with my rapid pulse. After his boss took the picture of us, he left us alone and retreated inside. He obviously knew that we wanted some privacy. This was the moment, the pivotal moment where my love grew even stronger for Jude. My stomach began to hurt. How was I going to survive without seeing him everyday? We were face to face, and I held my breath, waiting for him to ask if he could come to Manhattan to visit me. I just assumed that he would make the next trip.

When he took my hand into his, I almost fainted. Then it happened…he kissed me. My body shivered down deep inside from just the touch of his lips. He was the first man that had ever kissed me, and even though it was just on my hand, to me it counted as my first kiss. The wind encircled us, and I felt as if I was being lifted to Heaven. It was very powerful.

Jude waved the Polaroid picture into the air as it developed. I could hardly wait to see us immortalized on film. I couldn’t help but think that my grandmother’s tarot card predictions were in motion. She had seen someone taking pictures. Here I was with the man that I thought I would love forever. I could hardly contain my feelings.

“Thanks, Jude. I will treasure this forever,” I said as I felt heat rise to my cheeks.

“You’re welcome Brie-Brie” he said with a smile.

Please, don’t call me that...look at me, Jude. I’m not a girl; I am a woman.

“Good morning Jude,” a female’s voice called out.

I whipped around, and there she was—a beautiful blonde with big boobs bouncing to the beat of the band, and she was headed in our direction. As she walked toward us, her hair was blowing in slow motion, and it looked like she was stepping out of one of those Budweiser commercials. Time seemed to stop. Jude’s eyes were glued to her, all of her, if you know what I mean. So were mine. Where are the horses? I wanted them to come and stampede her over.

“Hey Amanda, looking good,” Jude’s voice shifted into low gear. She looked vaguely familiar to me.

I glared up at Jude, stunned. His smile appeared devilish and smeared across his face like smooth chocolate syrup.
What is happening to him?
His glistening green eyes pierced into her, throwing cupid’s arrows into her heart—his target.

“Would you like to spend time with me after you get off work tonight?” Amanda said, nearly singing her words. A gentle wind carried her question on its wings and straight into my Jude’s ears.

“Yes. I’d love to,” he practically sang back; I felt like throwing up.

Love...did he say love?
I heard his breath drawing in deeply and picking up it’s pace. His smile was abnormally huge. Suddenly, he looked like an alligator to me. All of his teeth were beaming like a full moon at midnight. How could this be happening? His lips stretched from ear to ear like a tightrope. I wanted to reach up and snap them back into their natural position. He looked possessed...perhaps she was a ghost taking him over. If only she was, I would have damned her back to H… E… double-toothpick!

When Amanda reached us, I took notice of her beauty up close.

I
know her face,
I thought.

Her skin was a deep olive color and tanned. I was ten shades lighter, almost invisible next to her. I instantly did not like her. I felt like vapor in the wind next to her.

She looked like the beautiful swan, and I felt like an ugly duckling in her presence. Her hair was smooth, blunt ends and not a strand out of place; a golden blonde hue with traces of dark honey weaved on the underside. Meanwhile, I could feel the humidity causing mine to rise like a lopsided loaf of bread. I was clearly a hot mess.

“What would you like to do?” She sensuously licked her full lips.

Did she just lick her lips?

“Anything—would you like to drive over to the beach?” Jude asked, almost begging her.

You never asked me to go to the beach.
I cried in my head.

“That would be lovely...I love watching the tide roll in at dusk and feeling the night air on my face and the wind blowing through my hair...it’s so peaceful.”

Then make a date with the wind instead of Jude!

“I can’t wait,” Jude exclaimed, and they embraced.

Let go of my boyfriend! Hello. What am I, invisible?

I felt as if I was their audience, no more like a weed that sprouted up between their feet. I held my breath, wishing that the ground would erupt and swallow this Amanda chick whole; then she could be dinner for the earth.

Still in their lingering embrace, she peered over Jude’s shoulder and fluttered her lashes before zoning in on me. If my looks could kill, she would be dead.

“Jude,” she whispered in his ear. “There’s someone here...a little girl.” Amanda disengaged their embrace.

Y
eah. His girlfriend, bimbo!
I screamed silently.

Where was Storm? My angel. I wanted him to make this man-eating, lip-licking, possessed evil witch disappear.

“Oh, this is my friend.” Jude scantily glanced in my direction. My heart stopped.

What happened to Brielle? Or Brie-Brie?

“Hello,
Friend
. I am Amanda,” she said, reaching out to shake my hand. I glanced at her slender arm, long, lean and full of grace. Mine arms were long and lean, too, but fell short of being graceful. Lanky and clumsily more like it. I slipped my hand into hers, and she felt fragile to the touch. I wondered if I did too.

“Yeah, hi, I heard him say your name,” I groaned sarcastically. Squaring my shoulders, I confidently introduced myself, “I’m Brielle Eden.” Jude hadn’t even bothered mentioning my name.

“I like your name.” Amanda complemented me.

“Thanks.” Despite my desire to be sick, I managed to flash her a turned in, tight-lined smile.

“What’s that...?” Amanda asked inquisitively, and her eyes fell on our photo.

I fixated on the instant photo in Jude’s limp hand. I felt tears straining against the back of my eyeballs.

“This...?” His eyes darted down to the picture. “It’s a photo of me and my new little friend, Brie.” He tilted it toward Amanda.

“You are so beautiful, very photogenic. Did Jude tell you I am a model for Elite in New York City?” She beamed.

Alarms rang in my head. It was her...Amanda Seymour. She was on the first season of
Super Model
a few months ago. She didn’t win, but she came in as the second runner up. Oh my God! I recognized that she was the girl on the cover of last months Glamour, too. There was this entire article about her and the show.
Damn her, what is she doing here?

“No, he didn’t mention that to me,” I retorted
. He didn’t mention you at all.
You are very unpopular in my circle of friends; no one likes you.
I glared at her.
Unfortunately, when my brain processed certain things, my words would come spilling out with little thought. My own thoughts—my mouth betrayed me. “I know who you are,” I muttered. I hated that I had confessed to her that I knew who she was.

Jude piped in, a fraction behind the conversation. “That’s right Brielle lives in Manhattan, too. I almost forgot that.”

Of course you forgot...you barely remembered my name.

Amanda reached into the little worn leather brown bag that was cinched low on her rail thin hips. “Here’s my card. You should think about modeling. I started around your age. Call me sometime and I can introduce you to my agency. They will love you.” She smiled and handed me her calling card. I wanted to hate her, I really did, but she was actually very nice.

“Thanks.” I bit my lip. “But, I am going to be a writer.” My eyes flashed up toward Jude.

Please make her disappear like you did the ghost. Take me to the beach, instead, not her.
I remembered we were actually leaving today.
I will run away with you.
Confusion stimulated my thoughts. I wanted to rip her card up into a million pieces and throw it into Jude’s face. How could he do this to me? Why did Amanda have to be so nice? Why did she have to be Amanda Seymour, the famous model? All my dreams suddenly went up in smoke.