Page 12 of Four Simple Rules
As I sit on the edge of my couch, binge-watching my favorite crime-solving duo, my phone dings loudly beside me. Cautiously, I pick it up, scrunching my nose when an email flashes across the screen.
You're Invited! To Brighton High's ten-year reunion!
Again? Sheesh. They never give up. Between the postcards landing in my mailbox and the constant emails begging me to come back, I’d swear they were stalking me. I snort. Screw that. Why would I want to see those jerk faces again? They made not only my life crap but my best friend's, too.
Rolling my eyes, I delete the email without a second thought. There's no way I'm stepping foot there. Ever again. I may be going home, but that’s it. I’ll attend the reception for my father. And then, I’ll scurry back here like my butt is on fire.
Now, I have to contact Nikki, my supervisor, and let her know I'm using my vacation days.
My heart beats through my dang ribs, threatening to punch through and run away. Like I want to. Nervous sweat drips from every orifice of my body, pooling on my flesh.
"This is stupid," I mumble from behind the steering wheel as I sit in my childhood home's driveway. "This is dumb!" I hiss at myself, staring into my hazel eyes through the mirror, bloodshot from lack of sleep.
Peering at the clock, I realize I've been sitting here for five minutes. Five. Minutes. Of staring at the house with memories playing on repeat. Anxiety swarms inside me, sending my heart rate into a dang frenzy. I may die in this stuffy car before I enter the house.
Here lies the body of Blake Sarah Reynolds, who suffocated in her own nervousness. RIP.
Ugh. I lightly tap my forehead against the steering wheel, imagining myself driving away. Instead, memories of this house and the former people who inhabited it invade my mind.
"They won't stop," I whisper, holding back the tears dancing on my eyelashes, begging to fall.
Loud shouts fill our entire house, booming from the living room, only a few feet away. Their voices echo straight into my room, even with my door closed.
"All you do is go out!" my father shouts in outrage at the one woman he swore to protect and love.
"And all you do is sit here and cry!" she shouts back, slurring every word she says.
She's drowned herself in alcohol since the moment my brother took his last breath, numbing the pain festering inside her. I don’t blame her. Grief presents an unimaginable amount of pain. It’s hard to remove it from yourself. But we’ve all managed. Why can’t she?
"It's better than drinking every second of every day!" my father shouts back, even louder this time if that's possible.
Their anger fills the air, choking me with it. Before Gavin died, we were a loving family. Now, we're anything but family. We're strangers merely existing together.
My eyes flick to the picture hanging on my wall. The photo we took the summer before he died. My parents have smiles. Gavin has life. And me? I have everything. In a matter of months, I lost them all.
Except him.
Jesse puts his arm around my shoulder and tugs me into his side when I cringe at the sound of the front door slamming. Loose gravel kicks up in the driveway when whoever left peels out. Probably my mom. She’s the one who’s been running from her problems straight into the bars so she can get her next fix of booze.
"It'll get better," Jesse whispers into my hair. "I promise."
It was one of many promises Jesse broke. It didn't get better. It only got worse from there. Their shouts. The fights. Everything escalated until one day, and she never came home again.
Blake
Finally, back in town… How's the job and working with Rhett?
Olivia
You're stalling… I'm not going to indulge you…
Frick. She's right. I'd rather sleep in this car than walk through the red front door of my childhood home filled with memories I wish would go away. Why isn't there such a machine that can suck all the bad memories away?
Blake
PLEASEEEEE.
Olivia
