Thin White Line (12 page)

“Like family stuff?”

“Partly.”

“Are you mad at me?” I can see the concern in her expression and hear it in her voice.

I shake my head. “No, I’m just confused.”

“About what?”

I consider Brooke more than just my cousin. She’s my friend, but I also don’t know where her loyalty lies. If I tell her how I’m feeling about Ryder, she will most likely drive straight to his house and tell him what a dick he is being...and then he’ll really distance himself from me. I don’t want that and I definitely don’t want things being weird between them. “I’m just in a weird place.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You want to come to practice tonight? I could use a critique on the new song.”

Ryder didn’t mention anything about practice. There is a part of me that wants to go just to see if Ryder acts differently towards me or, if after the night at Deklan’s, he’s over it. I am ninety percent sure we hadn’t gone all the way, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe we had and there is nothing more he wants from me.

Or maybe I want more than Ryder can ever give me. 

“Thanks, but I have homework I need to get done. Maybe next time.”

“At least let me take you home.”

Knowing she won’t let up, I slide into the passenger seat, shut the door and click my seatbelt.

“If you change your mind, I’d love to see you tonight. Okay, Kenz?”

I nod. “Thanks.”

We fall into a comfortable silence. She even reaches out and squeezes my hand and I have to smile. We’ve come a long way in a few weeks.

“Is that your mom’s car?” Brooke asks as we round the corner.

Weird. My mom’s car is in the driveway in the middle of the afternoon. “Yeah, it is.”

Brooke glances at the clock. “What time does she usually get home?”

“Five-thirty.”

“Maybe their job ended early today.”

I hope that’s the case, but I have a strange feeling. “Maybe. I’ll call you later, okay?”

She nods. “See ya at practice.”

I shake my head and smile as I shut the car door and walk up the steps. The door to the apartment is unlocked. I toss my backpack on a chair in the living room and stop cold. My mom is sitting on the couch; as still as a statue. The television isn’t on and, on the table beside her, there’s a wine bottle that is three-quarters of the way gone. It’s obvious she’s been crying because her mascara is streaming down her face and she has a wad of tissue in her hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s marrying her.”

My stomach falls to my toes. I don’t have to ask who she’s talking about. I know my dad is into the home-wrecker, but I never imagined he would actually marry her. “How do you know?”

“Apparently, she announced it online this morning.” Mom sits back and sighs. “Our divorce isn’t even finalized, yet, and he’s already chomping at the bit to do it all over again with someone half his age. Unbelievable.”

I know my mom didn’t see the affair coming. My dad was always the breadwinner and he spent a lot of time away from home on business. It’s just been part of his job and we all know the drill. Yet, I know, or at least I think, my mom has always believed him to be faithful.

“He’s an idiot,” I say before I can stop myself.

She opens her mouth and I half expect her to defend him...but she surprises me and nods in agreement. “Yes, he is.” She shakes her head. “I gave up so much for him. College, a career…”

It isn’t all horrible. I know that and I think she does, too. She’s been betrayed, though, and now all she can see is the bad. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I really am.”

I don’t even think she hears me. She reaches for the glass and lifts it to her lips. Without missing a beat, she pours the rest of the wine into her glass and nearly upends it in the process.

“Cole is heading home for the weekend,” she says, running a hand through her messy hair. “I’ll need you to pick him up Friday evening.”

I’m so disappointed. I love my brother. I mean, we are family, but the last person I want or need to see is Cole. I wonder if she called him and told him about Dad so he offered to rush home to console her. Or maybe she called him to tell him she needs him. Only Cole can make her feel better.

“If you could pick your brother up at three o’clock sharp, that would be great.”

“Can’t he get…” I swallow the rest of the question when Mom frowns at me.

“What is it between you and your brother?” she snaps.

What does she mean what is between me and my brother? Maybe the fact that he’s never taken a wrong step in his life, at least in her mind, and I have done everything I can to be the perfect child, trying to get the same praise, only to never really be acknowledged. Then again, I never excelled in anything the way Cole has.

My dad would acknowledge me. His little princess, he called me.

Obviously I’m not that little princess any longer.

The doorbell rings.

Before I can stand, my aunt walks through the door and drops her purse in the entryway. In her right hand, she fists a wine bottle. Just what my mom needs. More wine. “That mother-fucker should be shot,” she announces, setting the bottle on a side table and rushing to my mom’s side. “What a fucking prick.”

This is the aunt I know and love. I can see where Brooke gets her potty mouth as Aunt Shelley continues calling my dad every nasty name in the book.

My mom breaks down into tears as my aunt rushes to her side and pulls her into a bear hug. My mom sobs, the sound tearing at my soul.

I swallow hard. Like my day hasn’t been shitty enough. This is the cherry on the sundae.

“I’ll let you guys talk,” I tell them and wonder if either of them hear me. My aunt does nod, though. I walk to my room, shut the door and fall face first onto my bed.

Fuck my life. I don’t know whether to cry, scream into my pillow, or get my dad on the phone and call him every derogative word I know for being a cheating mother-fucker. I hate him. I hate what he’s done to us. What he’s made my mom into—a sad, bitter, lonely woman who has lost all her confidence.

She deserves so much better.

My phone rings. I glance at it and see that it’s Brooke. I’m sure her mom told her the news.

Speaking of my aunt—her voice keeps getting louder. I put my pillow over my head and try to ignore the horrible thoughts racing through my mind, but it’s impossible. The pain eats away at me. You’d think my dad would have been decent enough to let my mom know before his girlfriend took the news public. Hell, how about letting his children know.

What a douchebag.

I turn off the ringer to my phone and place it in my nightstand drawer. Rolling over, I stare at the ceiling fan. 
Someone, please stop the world. I want off.

My phone keeps vibrating and I just turn it off, throw the covers over my head, put my earbuds in and crank my favorite song as loud as it will go.

Right about now, I wouldn’t mind being numb. I want to forget about life in general.

I think about the medications that were in Brooke’s cupboard. I still wonder what she is on and how come she has taken so many pills. A part of me is afraid of knowing the truth. Brooke is my only lifeline right now. She keeps me busy and sane from the chaos my life has become.

I go to my door, open it and listen. My mom is still bawling, so I cross to her room and quickly go into her bathroom.

My mom has been to the doctor’s office a few times since the breakup with my dad. There are three bottles in her cabinet. I don’t recognize any of the names, but I do recognize a medication for depression, and another for anxiety. The other one I’m clueless about. My mom used to rarely take an aspirin when she had a headache. That has definitely changed. Yet another reason to hate my dad.

I open the lid of the anxiety medication and pour a few of the small pills into my palm. I swallow one, pocket the ones in my hand, and set the bottle back into the cabinet. I stare at myself in the mirror for a moment and for a split second I think about putting the pills back before I turn off the light and go back to my room.

Sliding under my covers, I close my eyes and try not to think of everything that is wrong with my life.

Within fifteen minutes, I begin to experience a lightheaded feeling that I welcome. I put my earbuds back in and drift off to sleep.

When I wake up, I’m stunned to see my clock radio reads nine-twenty.

I slept the entire evening away?

My door opens and my aunt stands there. “Your mom is lying down.”

“Good,” I say. “She needs sleep.”

She’d already been buzzed when I got home from school. I’m sure she’d been completely shitfaced by the time they polished off the second bottle of wine.

“You okay to drive?”

She nods. “I had one glass and that was hours ago. I’ve never been much of a drinker.” She hesitates for a second. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep, but I’d like you to lock the front door behind me.”

“Sure.”

I walk her to the front door where she turns. “Brooke really loves having you here, Kenz. I know it was tough to leave California and your friends, but you have family here now.”

I return her smile. “Brooke’s been awesome,” I say. “And so have you.”

“We’re family, hon. That’s what we do.”

Her gaze is intense and I shift on my feet.

“Brooke said you seemed down today. In fact, she called a few times tonight asking about you.”

“I’m just a little homesick.”

“I understand. I hope you eventually feel like Vancouver is your home.”

I hope so, too, but right now, I can’t see beyond my pain and anger. “Thanks for coming over, Aunt Shelley.”

“Anytime you need me, just call. That’s the benefit of us living ten minutes away.” She reaches out, puts a hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re struggling, too. None of this is easy and I’m just so proud of you for how you are handling yourself.” She’s staring into my eyes and I hope she won’t be able to tell I took something.

“I appreciate that.”

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll talk to you later.”

I wait until she gets to her car before I shut and lock the door. I turn off the lights in the kitchen and living room, and then check on my mom. Her face is still streaked with tears, but at least she is zonked out, her mouth wide open.

My heart squeezes. Where has that strong, overly-confident woman gone? It’s amazing that a man can so easily destroy what she’s spent a lifetime building. I think of my relationship with Ryder, if it can be called that. At least, he doesn’t fake it. I wonder how long my dad faked it with my mom while he had his mistress on the side.

I cross the room and give my mom a kiss on the forehead. My throat tightens as I watch her even breathing. One day, she will find a man who will appreciate her.

Kind of like one day, I will find a guy who appreciates me…

***

Morning comes too soon.

I hear my mom milling around and decide to take a shower before I face her. I stand under the spray for ten minutes, the small window of time that I have before the hot water tank runs out.

When I get out of the shower, I finally check my phone. I have eight messages, six from Brooke and two from Sadie.

Shocker, none are from Ryder.

I text Brooke and tell her I’m taking my car this morning.

She texts right back and argues that I still have California plates.

I so don’t care what anyone thinks at this point.

I pop half of an anxiety pill before class. Brooke comes up from behind me, her hands over my eyes. “Guess who?”

“Um, Brooke.”

She laughs. “Hey, rough night, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“Sorry I stalked you last night, but I was worried. Mom was really concerned before she went over. She said you fell asleep early.”

I nod.

“You had Ryder worried, too.”

So worried he hadn’t bothered to call or text?

Speaking of Ryder, he is heading my way.

Because of how mad he makes me, I hate how attracted I am to him. Today, he looks especially smoking hot in a plain white, v-neck t-shirt that clings to his narrow waist and hips, too. I think of all the girls who were at that college party and how badly they wanted to be acknowledged by him...and yet he was with me.
If he wants to be with me, then why can’t he just show it?
I think, hating the conflict going on in my own mind.

I understand that guys like Ryder normally can’t be held down by just one girl, but maybe I hoped that I could change him. That I could be the one who made him feel differently, despite the fact of what Brooke told me in the beginning. The last thing I need to do is act like I’m butt-hurt, though. Nothing can make a guy run for the hills faster than a clingy chick and I have no intentions of being that girl. Look at how my dad had reacted the more my mom had hung on. He seemed borderline disgusted and, honestly, I don’t need any more drama in my life than I already have.

“I missed you last night,” Ryder says.

I’m surprised that Brooke stays right with us.

“I fell asleep early,” I reply.

He watches me closely, his gaze searching mine. Obviously, he isn’t used to being on the receiving end of rejection. Not that I am rejecting him, but I’m sure he’s never once been the one who did the chasing in a relationship. If he asks someone to be at a practice, I’m sure they show up, grateful to be the object of his affection for that night.

“Can I drive you home from school today?”

Brooke nudges me. Ryder’s thumb brushes over mine and he smiles. Figures, the day I drive to school is the day he would ask to take me home. I realize I haven’t even been in his car yet. “I drove today.”

He sighs heavily. “We’ll make plans later then. I’ll text you.” He leans in and kisses me. It’s a soft peck on the lips, but everyone in the hallway sees it. His hand slides over mine, and then we are walking down the hall together, hand in hand.

What just happened? I am stunned.

Apparently, so are a lot of other people as they watch with surprised expressions.

Miss Loray’s brows nearly touch her hairline when we enter class, still holding hands. Ryder walks me to my chair and even pulls it out for me.

During art class, every time I look up, Ryder is watching me. I smile and feel my fears subside.

Maybe I’d been wrong about Ryder.

Ryder holds my hand after class and we part ways in the hallway after a quick kiss.

I go from being bummed out to ecstatic.

During English, a piece of paper is thrown at me. It hits me in the head and lands by my feet. I don’t have to guess who it is from. Laura sits two seats over from me.

When the teacher isn’t looking, I bend over and pick it up.

COKE WHORE. You should go back to where you came from.