Page 56 of Cassie
His fingers wrapped around her neck, lifting, and before she knew it, her head was propped on one of his thighs, neck bent at an acute angle. It was uncomfortable, which was clearly obvious either by the pained look she knew had to be on her face, or her muttered, “Ow.”
“Shit. Here, this’ll be better.” A moment later, his hand was stuffing a bundled shirt underneath her head and he was back beside her, propped up on an elbow, tanned chest bare in the sunshine. “Better, Faynez?”
“What are y’all doing?” She pulled the shirt out as she sat up and refolded it before thrusting it towards him. “You and Jonny.” The look on his face was alert and bordering on angry, but it didn’t matter because she could match that emotion right now. “Just stop it. It’s not funny.” Suddenly near tears, because she hadn’t expected anything like this from Garrett, she pushed to her feet.I thought he was my friend. Throat tight, she didn’t try to say anything else, just fled inside the house, hurrying to the bathroom adjoining her bedroom. Growing up, she and Sammy had shared the Jack and Jill bath that separated their rooms, but since he’d moved out, she’d taken over the space.
Hands to the crowded counterspace, she leaned into the mirror, staring hard at her own reflection. “Stop it.” That was firmly stated, and she gave herself a nod of agreement. “You’re being stupid.” Shewasbeing stupid and knew it.
Jonny Morgan had never done a nice thing for her. When he wasn’t being aloof and sending a message about how much better he was than the stupid teenaged girl mooning over him, he was her nemesis because he would pull her ponytail, pluck her earbuds from her ears, tip the bottom of her glass up to splash her, and otherwise tease her as if she were an unwanted little sister.Thank God, Sammy never treated me like that, she thought, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face.
He hadn’t, either. With Sammy, like with her dad, Faith never wondered if she was loved. She flinched at thinking of that word in association with Jonny.I don’t have to wonder if he loves me, because he’s made it clear that is the furthest thing from his mind. Puffing air to fluff her bangs, she tucked that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear again.I don’t want him to love me. I’d settle for him leaving me alone. Besides, I have Drago.
Eyes to her reflection, she stared into her eyes.Liar.
“Faynez.” Her name was accompanied by a pounding on her bedroom door. Garrett. “What’s wrong?” The doorknob rattled, but she’d flipped the latch when she’d shoved it shut after her escape.
She and Garrett had been thrown together by their joined families in the club for so many things, they might as well be siblings. Faith shook her head.Of course he wasn’t in cahoots with Jonny. She had just pushed back from the counter, turning to let him in when the door behind her opened. Whirling to see who’d come in through Sammy’s old room, Faith took a step backwards when Jonny’s broad shoulders filled the doorway. He didn’t say anything, just stared at her.
Behind her, Garrett knocked again. “Faynez? Let me in.”
Faith swallowed hard as Jonny’s face turned red and knew she flinched when, voice deep and rumbling, he muttered, “Gonna let your boy in, squirt?” It was the verbal jab that did it, pushing her over the edge and into anger, the word that pointed out she was never his equal and never would be. Squirt, short stuff, kiddo, cupcake, midget, scooter. She hated every one of them when spoken her direction by Jonny. Drago never talked to her like that.
“Why are you like that?” Faith felt her bottom lip quiver and bit down hard, trying to stop the pain and embarrassment from sounding in her voice. Anger fueled her resolve. “Why are you such a jerk to me?”
“Know what? Forget it,” Jonny said, lifting one hand to push aside the chaos of makeup on her counter. He made a small space and plunked a bottle of water down. “You don’t want nice? Okay.”
“Why would you change?” Faith heard her voice speaking words, but hadn’t given her mouth permission to say anything. It felt like she was floating, above everything, watching as the scene played out. “You’ve always been about staying on the mean end of things. Why bother to change now?” Pulling in a deep breath, she lifted her chin, watched as his eyes tracked across her face and down to her mouth, then, seeming like it took some effort, back up to meet her eyes. “Wouldn’t want to confuse things, would ya?”
“Faynez?” That was her dad’s voice, and she realized Garrett had gone silent a while ago. “Everything okay, honey?”
She’d turned to look at the door and was just twisting back when movement in the mirror caught her attention. Jonny was gone, the door to Sammy’s room closing slowly, the latch quietly clicking into place. Staring at that blank surface, she blinked, forcing back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “Yeah, Daddy, I’m okay.”
Silence for a moment, then her dad’s voice, soft and sweet. “Okay.” More silence, then a quiet reminder. “Love you, Faynez.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
***
Sammy
Sammy sat as he had so many times, his view of the grounds interrupted at intervals by the jutting granite stones. A known skyline, stretching to the city gates.A city of dead, he thought, shifting, trying to find a comfortable position. Leaned as he was against the headstone, there wasn’t much comfort to be had, so he gave up, settling back and slouching low, losing himself in contemplation of life, loss, and growing up without someone you loved.
A nearby noise pulled him out of his thoughts and he twisted in place to peer around the cold stone behind him. A car was pulling through the back gate. He watched as it traveled the lane slowly, a small road separating what he’d come to think of as the old-timers, the graves that were more than a decade old, where he sat, and the new graves, those people lost in most recent years.
It was not a car he knew, and he had spent a lot of time here growing up, knew the other mourners who visited their lost loved ones, and this wasn’t a vehicle he recognized. Most of the folks like him, who came here with regularity took to parking in the caretaker’s lot, the walk in a way of setting your mind to whatever it was you came to ease. The lane wound through the cemetery, gentle curves making it easy to trailer heavy equipment in and out, giving careful entrance to the vehicles bearing their precious burdens.
Only twenty feet away at the nearest point to where he sat, he watched the car roll slowly past. The windows were darkened just enough to obscure the driver, but he could see only one head in the front seat. The back was filled with movement, jostling forms that he couldn’t make sense of.
The car glided to a halt about twenty plots from where he sat, and he waited, watching, as it took a while for the driver to exit. Finally the door opened and the first thing that popped out was a white balloon. That was followed by a giggle, a sound so out of place in this place of silent dead that it captured his entire attention. Feminine and soft, it lifted over the graves in a way that made him feel light. So much lighter than he had in years.
The driver climbed out, but wasn’t much taller than the car, so the only thing he saw at first was the top of their head. Blonde hair, parted in the center. He lost even that when they opened the back door, leaning in, more balloons popping out into the air overhead. Then the mass of balloons was on the move, traveling away from him, the car between them. A ritual he recognized, one that he and his dad had performed more than once over the years. First for him, and then for Faith, his sister who had no memories of the beauty that had been their mother.
So he knew what was coming, knew what would be next. Wishes and thoughts and dreams lofting overhead, carried on the scant wind. If that tiny breeze hadn’t been coming from the just-right direction, he wouldn’t have heard the words spoken in the giggler’s voice.
“Miss you, Mitch.”
Those words held pain, a pain he knew and recognized, because it was the same that lodged in his gut. A pain that never ended, having found its way there when he was yet a teen. Just a child when the pain came to stay, because his mother went away.
Soft, feminine, quavering in grief. “Miss you so much, sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe.”
