Jillian
"You're spacing again, Jill." Someone snaps. Absently, I shuffle in my chair before I hear the sound of glass shattering near my feet.
"Oh crap!" I squeal because alas—I've broken another test tube. That makes 4 this week if I've been keeping track. This is of course not counting the Petri dishes or the beakers. "I'm so sorry Ash." I hurry over to the closet where we keep all the lab equipment, snatching up my broom. Yes, it's my broom. I've made a habit out of this, and by this I mean breaking everything I touch. Carlos even went through the trouble of writing my name on a piece of masking tape and mending it around the handle.
I start sweeping my mess into the dust pan, careful not to miss any pieces. "Jill." Ash says tiredly, she presses her hand to my shoulder and I turn around swiftly, pushing my glasses back up the bridge of my nose as they come loose.
"My mind was elsewhere." I smile sheepishly before quickly resuming the task at hand.
She doesn't let it end there like I hoped she would. "You don't say? What is going on with you lately? Your head is completely in the clouds! It's so unlike you to space out this much."
I let out a flat sigh. I couldn't answer that even if I knew how to. "It's just with my dissertation coming up, I—"
"Oh come off it, Jill. You and I both know that your research is flawless, there's no way they would even think of denying you your Ph.D. Try giving me a more feasible excuse."
"I'm a scientist Ash, thinking is what I do for a living. Give it a rest already. I'm fine, okay?" I grumbled. "Look, all clean!" The floor is spotless again, unless you count the scuff marks from shoes and other random speckles of forgotten materials.
"What if that vial had corrosive fluid in it? You need to be more careful. Get your head out of your ass already."
I bite down on my lip, staring at her intensely before moving to the glass disposal bin to dump the shattered pieces away. "Alright."
"Jesus." She snarls.
"No, just me." I said drly. She rolled her eyes and resumed her work at the table across from me.
The university is finally offering me my dissertation after 2 long years of dedicated research on self-mutating bacterium. My cultures have more than exceeded expectations, and I've managed to cultivate several other civilizations, creating hundreds of opportunities for mutation. Ash would often call me 'The Cure', firmly believing that I was the next path of human evolution.
I smile at the idea.
I wouldn't go that far, but what I've been working on is more or less my livelihood, even though it hasn't really been that long. I feel as if I've been waiting for this moment my entire life. These germs are basically my children, and since children are basically walking, talking germs I'm not so far off from being a mother, here.
Pride swells in my chest. Ill-obtained pride, but pride none-the-less. "I'm going to work on my papers." I call out to Ash as I tuck the remainder of my cultures back into their arthropods and slide them into the freezer.
She flashes a smile back at me, her blue eyes glowing with mischief as she flicks one of her test tubes until the clear liquid turns into a bright yellow. "We should get lunch first."
My nose scrunches. "Why do you have a plotting expression?"
"Plotting? Me? Don't be silly." She places the tube back into its holder and peels her latex gloves off before tossing them into the bin. She pulls her goggles over her head before giving me a wink. "Come on, let's eat. You can work on your paper in the caf."
My eyes narrow in suspicion but I didn't protest, instead shrugging off my lab coat and hanging it on the rack behind me. I gather all of my things and run to the door as Ash holds it open for me, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Sorry," I grumble and then slump my heavy backpack onto my shoulders.
"Stop apologizing all the time."
"Sorr—" I catch myself, not even realizing how easily the word fell from my mouth. Jeez.
She snaps her eyes over to me and I smile innocently back.
Ash holds her tray in her hand tightly as we navigate our way through the buzzing dining hall, sneering at anyone who threatens to knock the food from her hands.
"Here!" I call out finally, setting my tray down on a clean, empty table tucked at the back of the massive cafeteria.
She squirms between two tables tucked too close together, not even bothering to excuse herself when she elbows some wide-eyed girl who's minding her own business.
"Ash!" I admonish, apologizing to the angry blonde on her behalf.
Ash ignores me, setting her tray on the table before dumping her pink and black striped Victoria's Secret tote over the squeaky chair.
"Is it just me or do you seem extra testy today." My tone is dry as I stare at her annoyed expression.
She reaches over to my tray and grabs a few of napkins before running them across the table surface. "I didn't think it would be so crowded today." She grumbles menacingly.
A small smile curves my lips as I chew my green beans. "It's lunchtime, of course it crowded." She glares at me. "You're the one who wanted to come here!" My tone is filled with as much exasperation as it is humor.
Ash is a germaphobe, which I know, contradicts her profession vehemently. She grows AIDS and bovine spongiform encephalopathy in a jar for a living for Pete's sake. Her goal of course is the search for a definitive cure. Have you ever heard of something more hilarious? A germaphobe who works with germs. Her germaphobia is what makes her personality interesting to me.
That and the fact that she curses like a sailor.
"Fucking pigs." She sneers.
Aaaaand…there it is. I glance at my wrist watch. Almost a minute and 30 seconds…that's a new record.
She glares at the way the napkin stuck to the table, possibly from spilt juice or soda before promptly whipping out her sanitizer and practically dousing her hands with it.
I sigh, dropping my plastic fork on the plate. "We can just go." I stand, taking my tray with me.
She quickly looks up at me, standing abruptly. "No I'm fine. Sit." She assures before pulling a tight smile.
I felt one of my brows twitch. "What is going on with you?"
"Nothing!"
With warning evident, I say, "Ash…"
Her eyes slide from mine and over my shoulder before finally settling on me again. "Jill, sit." Her voice is lower this time, her eyes urging me to listen.
My brows pull in so tightly I feel a strain in my forehead. She's being odd right now. Well…odd-er. More bizarre than usual, I think.
Warily, I look over my shoulder to the area where her eyes travelled, and none to my surprise Kevin is scanning the cafeteria, food in hand.
"You're horrible." I say as soon as I turn back to the growing smile on her face. She holds a hand up to beckon him forward.
"Kevin! Over here!" And I just know that he's walking over to us now so I don't bother to check.
"I have this uncontrollable urge to lick your face right now."
"Jill," She begins, but I shut her down quickly.
"That guy doesn't like me." I say through clenched teeth. "You're still trying to set me up with him? Seriously?"
"Don't be so modest, Jillian. Of course he's into you. Give in already! He's cute." Her tone growls at that last word for emphasis.
"Then you date him." I seethe. "What's in this for you, huh? You bribe him?" My eyes narrow into slits.
"When was the last time you touched a man? Handshakes don't count." She goads, her tone quickening with every syllable.
"Hey ladies." A smooth voice calls from behind me.
I'm so irritated I can't even be bothered to turn around because he'd catch the stink face that I'd reserved specially for my prying friend. "Hi Kevin." I throw over my shoulder.
"Hey Kevin! Funny seeing you here today." Ash lilts and I don't even attempt to hide the disdain that mars my features.
"Really? Funny seeing him in the school that he goes to in the lunchroom that he eats in everyday?" I say dryly.
"Jill." He greets before settling right beside me in the chair closest to the wall. None of us speak for the longest time and the uncomfortable silence swells.
"So Kevin!" Ash finally says, breaking through the dread. "I heard about your work with the electron lasers, you must be so proud." Ash pushes for a brief moment before quickly taking a sip of her iced tea, eyes volleying between the two of us.
"Uh, yeah it's been great actually. We have a lot of free-range microscope trials to run through. Other than that were fully operational. Took us months."
Ash looks at me then, her eyes widening into dinner plates. She flicks her corneas in his direction with the most imperceptible of motions. "I could show you if you'd like…" Kevin offers.
For some reason, could be because of his direction of speech and body language but who knows, it feels like that offer is more for me than Ash…the one who actually brought it up.
I clear my throat, still chewing the cauliflower I'd just shoved in my mouth not a second before.
He's going to flex his fancy lab equipment on me? Do I look like some easily impressed, horny wide-eyed undergrad? "I'd love to Kevin," I lie. "But I'm really busy lately with my—"
"With your dissertation, yeah I know. I saw your paper on the schools database…it's really good."
That took me by surprise. "Oh. Well thank you."
I don't know exactly why an experimental physicist would have any interest in bacteria mutation or microbiology period, but it quickly dawns on me that he maybe only looked into it so he'd have something to talk to me about.
Kevin smiles at me and out of embarrassment I look away. It's not that he isn't cute and all, because he definitely is. He's not too tall but well-built with a kind face and warm brown eyes that could make any woman swoon.
I just get the overwhelming sensation that perhaps after a long conversation he'd figure out how misguided his advancements are, and that scares the hell out of me.
I gather my things and the chair squeaks with protest as I push away from the table. "I have a lot of work to do, guys. Enjoy your meals!"
"Jill…" Ash warns, her tone desperate.
"Ash…" I mock before turning and walking away.
xxx
My Saturdays usually consisted of me slumping through my apartment clad in Winnie the Pooh PJ's and slippers with a cup of hot chocolate. Sometimes I would bother to get off the couch to adjust the thermostat, but for the most part I slept, ate, and then slept more.
The life of a grad student is not one that I'd really envisioned. I thought for sure it would be all glamour and no rules, but so far the only thing that independence has offered me is loneliness. Even more loneliness than I'd had before I got to California. I was tired of being tired all the time. Most days were just me sliding lazily out of bed and running out of the house with little care to my appearance to get to classes, then slugging to the open lab afterwards with a half-dead aura radiating from me. Post-brain failure, pre-rigor mortis.
I flip through the television for something good to watch, finding nothing. I click to Netflix, Hulu, etc—watched everything.
Sad.
"Seriously?" I pout to myself.
My cellphone whistles from somewhere and I scan the couch for it. I run my hands between the cushions over and over until I finally spot it on the floor at my feet. Bending over, I snatch it up and scroll through my text messages.
It's from my older sister, Jane. I also notice that I've missed about 4 calls from her.
Dad needs to talk to you. Call him.
You have got to be kidding me. I roll my eyes and contemplate chucking my phone at the wall. Instead I clench my teeth and begin tapping out a reply.
If it was really that important he would call me himself, don't you think?
I toss my phone to the other side of the couch before settling back in place, cranking the volume up louder and ignoring the pang of guilt in my stomach, knowing that it's not imperative. My father hasn't exactly been a beacon of warmth for me all these years. In fact, the most affection he's shown me has been the day I moved away from home when he gave me a brief, cold, and unenthusiastic hug.
I've spent years trying to convince myself that I don't need his love, but the indifferent front I put on is marred by my sensitivity to even speaking with him over the phone.
The device whistles across from me again and I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head once again, this time so forcefully it actually hurts.
Ignore it, Jillian. Today is a 'you' day, don't seek ways to stress yourself out.
I curl myself up into the corner of the couch and keep my eyes trained on the TV.
After a while of constantly glancing at the now darkened screen I gave in and let out an exasperated growl, reached over and grabbed the phone. When the notification on the lock screen lit up I felt my world collapse around me.
Mom is sick.
xxx
I was on the next flight to Seattle, Washington that day. I ran through every possible scenario in my head, desperately clinging to the hope that my mother was alright. My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn't keep my mind occupied throughout the entire flight, constantly tapping my feet and touching whatever I could get my hands on.
Please just let her be okay.
I got to Seattle General with nothing but my cellphone and wallet in hand, too panicked to even pack anything. "Excuse me," I say to the receptionist behind the desk at ER. She looks up at me and smiles, an expectant look on her face "I'm looking for Olivia Pierce—"
"Friend or family?" She asks.
"I'm her daughter."
"One moment, dear." She says sweetly before scanning her computer.
"Ziggy!" I turn around only to be greeted with my brother's surprised face.
"Lance!" I run to embrace him. He hugs me back before pulling away and holding me at arms-length.
"I didn't know you were in town." He says frantically.
My head is spinning. "I just got here not even an hour ago. Where is mom?" I ask, my voice breaking.
He takes my wrist in his hand and leads me somewhere in the left wing. We approach a door and I quickly push it open, revealing several familiar faces slowly turning back to me.
"Ziggy." Jane gasps. She stands and runs over to me, locking her arms around my neck and squeezing tightly.
Over her shoulder I could see our mom lying there, her body motionless with several cords and tubes snaking through her veins, hooked up to various machines on the hospital bed. She looks…not like my mom. This wasn't the vibrant, radiant beautiful creature who raised me. I barely even recognize this person.
No longer able to hide my wariness anymore, I begin all-out sobbing as Jane pulls away from me. "Shhh," She coos before hugging me to her again.
"What's going on?" I ask shakily. Lance had settled into the chair that Jane abandoned. He grabs mom's hand and squeezes it in his.
No one said anything. Not my aunt, not my godmother Cheryl, or even uncle Erwin, who was usually so talkative that it drove us all to near insanity. I look around at the empty lifeless faces and my eyes land on my father who is standing on the other side of the room, hands in his pockets as he stares out the window.
I slip out of Jane's embrace and storm over to him. "What's wrong with her?" I demand with a fire in my heart.
He looks back at the sound of my voice, eyes hazy and unfocused. "Jillian?"
"Yes dad, it's me…your least favorite child." I say menacingly with tears still rolling down my face, ignoring the pain that those words caused me, and point back. "What is wrong with my mother?"
If he noticed what I said before…he pretends not to, simply turning back around. "I told your sister to have you call me, you didn't have to come. I know how busy you must be with all your…whatever it is you're doing in California."
I reel back in horror, completely dumbfounded. If there is one thing that I will remember my father for above anything else, it's the sheer brazenness of his disregard for me. I'd always been positive, even as a child, that if I ever died—he wouldn't even bat an eyelash.
"Why would I not be here? And why would you not call me yourself? Do you really hate me that much?"
He looks back at me again, cold green eyes giving me that usual disapproval that has been rooted in my psyche since before I knew what emotions were. His coldness was something that never managed to grow on me, but it is something that I learned to live with. However right now, it just makes me feel as if he's never even liked me.
"I don't hate you, Jillian. If I did you wouldn't be here right now. Don't ever forget that."
"You have a really funny way of showing it." I croak, still wiping the angry tears away from my face.
"What are your expectations exactly? Would you like me to coddle a 25-year-old woman? You're too old to be still singing this song. And dry your face—you look like a florid balloon."
"Father, please—" Jane snaps, pulling me away. I suck in a deep breath, relieved to be away from that negativity if only for a moment. She holds me in place and scans my expression, searching for something. "You look like you haven't had a good night's sleep in 10 years, Ziggs." She says sadly before running a finger across my cheek. "Why do you do this to yourself? What are you trying to prove?"
I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut. "Jane…I like what I do. Why can we not leave it at that?" Jane loves to give me crap about my work and schooling every time we talk. It's almost like a tradition. Every time, she asks me to quit school and move home and every time, I tell her no.
She sighs but doesn't push the issue, there are more pressing matters, clearly. "The cancer came back." She says finally and as if on cue, my heart falls out of my body. She pulls me close and squeezes me tightly. "They said it's going to be an even harder battle this time."
I feel her warm tears on my shoulder and begin to shake, hugging her back as I try to stay calm and be a rock for her, but I cant.
Not this time.
xxx
I intended to spend all weekend at the hospital and wait for my mother to wake up but she was out cold. They'd induced her into a coma to fight the pain.
I couldn't believe the gall of my father, he'd been in this hospital for a total of 30 minutes. Does he even care that his wife is on her death bed right now?
He never appreciated my mom, he doesn't deserve her. He's a cruel man.
"Why is he not here?" I growl.
Lance lifts his head from the hospital bed and looks at me. His eyes are sunken in and he looks exhausted. "Dad can't stand to see mom like this, Ziggs, you know that."
"Bullshit."
He shakes his head before resting it at moms hand again, holding it in his own. I bite my lip and pull my knees into my chest.
"You didn't pack any clothes did you?" Lance asked tiredly.
I didn't, but I'm not going to leave. "I'm fine."
He lifts his head again. "Go get some clothes...and some sleep." He grumbles.
I look around the hospital room and then glance at my phone for the time. It's just a little past 3. Everyone has already gone home except for Lance and me.
Lance is the baby of the 4 of us, only 20 years old and the last time I checked he didn't really seem to have a plan for his life. He kind of just mopes around our parent's house dicking around, smoking weed and occasionally skipping town with his loser friends to god-knows-where. He's in college but it's his 2nd year and he's still undecided as far as I know.
I chance a bit. "What are you doing lately?"
He gives me a confused face.
I elaborate. "With your life."
Lance rolls his eyes as the meaning behind my words finally sink in. "You really wanna give me a lecture about my future right now?"
"Lance, I care about you and I just want—"
"Well don't!" He yells, standing so abruptly that the chair slides from beneath him before flipping over and slamming against the floor. "I don't need your damn pity, or Jane's, or Blane's. I don't want to run the family company and I don't want to dissect monkeys either!" He gestures at me with that last part.
I exhale a sigh because…that's not what I do at all. And if he honestly thinks that dad is just going to continue to let him mooch in the family house without working or making any real efforts in school he's insane.
"Listen, you need to calm down…right now." I say matter-of-factly and motion for him to sit down.
"I'm sorry Ziggy. I'm sorry that I'm not a genius like you, or the perfect son like Blane is, or as prim and proper as Jane. I'm not shit and I know it. I don't need you reminding me of how useless I am every single time we talk." He turns and storms out of the room before I even got the chance to correct him.
I hold my face in my palms, completely exhausted from crying, from the flight, and from the all-nighters I've been pulling at school for the last 3 months trying to get my dissertation together so that I can graduate. The stress is consuming me. I'm going to start sprouting gray hair's at any moment now.
I look at my mother's lifeless face and feel my throat tighten. "I wish you were here. You always know just what to say." I whisper. "I'm a terrible sister."
xxx
I wasn't allowed to stay at the hospital overnight. She was only allowed one guest and my aunt Carol had beaten me to the punch.
I click on the light in my old bedroom, surprised that everything was exactly the way I'd left it, not a single book or stray hairpin out of place. I try not to come home on holidays, my father doesn't seem to care if I do or don't anyway. So I've been away for a little over 7 months now.
For some reason though, it feels longer.
I pull my comforter back, amazed that the sheets were fresh and warm.
"Miss Jillian." A familiar voice lilts from behind me. I turn around and I'm greeted with a big smile.
"Hi Yvette." I say shyly and then stiffen when she comes in for a hug.
She looks at me for a moment. "You look so different. Mostly dead."
I sigh but don't argue with that statement because I'm sure that I do. After being told by not 1, not 2, but 3 people in one day that I look like crap—I stop being offended and start being aware. "You changed my sheets?" I ask her, nodding back to my old bed.
She nods. "Every week, ma'am."
"Thanks. Uh…could you," I looked down at my PJ's and fail at hiding my embarrassment. "I don't have any clean pajama's lying around do I?"
She crosses to the drawer and pulls out a pair of baby blue silk shorts and a matching tank top before lying them on the bed for me. "There are clean towels in the closet in your bathroom."
"Thanks, Yvette."
"Are you hungry?" She asks with an expectant look on her face.
"Not really, no." I grumble.
"Let me know if you need anything then." And then she's gone, the door click shut behind her softly.
After a quick shower I do some serious detoxifying to wipe the exhaustion from my face. I'd manage to get rid of the dark circles beneath my eyes, lucky that they weren't too deep. My skin looks a hell of a lot better than it did earlier. My eyes, which looked like my fathers in every way—a weird greenish-blue color, contrasted against the suppleness of my firm cheeks. I feel as if I've scrubbed off a years' worth of stress, but it was well worth the hour and a half.
Afterwards, I'm in my PJ's and heading down the stairs in search of a warm glass of milk before bed.
As soon as my foot hits the landing of the stairs the doorbell chimes.
I snap my head to the entryway, staring at the front door a few feet away.
I look around for Yvette, fidgeting nervously, waiting for her to come answer but a while after the doorbell pings again I assume that she's preoccupied. With all the enthusiasm drained from my body, I slump over to the door and unbolt the lock, pulling it open.
A pair of blue and gray eyes stared back at me as I held the door open, dumbfounded. "Oh my goodness. Jillian is that you?" She says, her voice filled with awe.
"It has to be her." He affirms, his eyes trained on me. He scratches his jaw a bit, a warm smile on his face.
"I haven't seen you since you were," She holds up a hand, indicating me when I was maybe 2 to 3 inches shorter. "You're still so beautiful, look at you." I blush at her compliment, my eyes finding to the floor briefly.
She smiled at me, her bright blue orbs gleaming.
Those eyes.
My breath catches in my throat as the memories flood back to me. Painful, terrible memories that I've suppressed for a long time. Memories that I've tried to bury and never think of again. But as soon as I'm reminded of his existence, it all hits me again like a freight train. It is incredibly disconcerting how much they look like him…both of them. They're like puzzle pieces of two completely different mediums.
My mouth opens and closed a few times before I finally find the voice hidden somewhere beneath the cacophony of fear and desecration. "Mr. and Mrs. Grey." I say bashfully, hoping to all that is good above that my voice didn't tremble as much as I think it did. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Mrs. Grey's eyes turn sad then. "We heard about your mother and we came to give our blessings." She holds up a pie in a glass container before extending it to me.
"Oh," I say as I take it from her gratefully with a smile. "Thank you so much Mrs. Grey. Please come in." I motion behind my back.
"Who is it?" My father's voice drifts through the house from the top of the stairs. "Who the hell is knocking at my door this late?!" I glare over my shoulder even though I can't see him yet. I didn't even know he was home. He had this nasty habit of locking himself inside of his study and the family wouldn't see him for days on end. Ever since he retired and gave the company to Blane he's become somewhat of a recluse, only leaving the house for social events and emergencies.
"Yvette?! Got damn it!" He yells and then appears at the top of the stairs. I cover my face in embarrassment.
When he sees who I'm standing with his annoyed expression quickly morphs to an apologetic, welcoming one. "Christian, Ana!"
He holds out his arms and pulls them both into a hug simultaneously. "What brings you here tonight?"
"Your sister called me about Olivia. We're so sorry Victor." Mrs. Grey says shyly.
"Crying out loud, you didn't have to go out of your way." He grumbles, but I could tell he was appreciative.
Mr. Grey waves him off. "We live right down the road Vic, it's not out of the way even a little bit."
I'm sure my father meant 'out of the way' as in making him a pie and bringing it to our house in the middle of the night, not a 1 ½ minute drive to our house from your own.
I dismiss my petty thoughts before turning at the heel and taking the pie into the kitchen with me while they caught up in the den. I set it down on the counter and pad over to the fridge in search of the milk, deciding instead to just gulp it straight from the carton with the hope that it will make me sleepy.
"Jillian, get in here!" My father's crude voice beckons me. I wipe my moist mouth with the back of my hand and bite my tongue, fighting the urge to tell him that I'd rather not speak to him at the moment. Instead of fulfilling my personal wishes I slump into the den with my shoulders low.
Mrs. Grey smiles at me when she catches sight of how tired and uninterested I must look. "How's your research going, dear?" She asks. "We won't keep you long."
I shake my head, settling on the arm of the couch where my father sits, across from them. "It's not a problem at all ma'am. Thank you for asking. My work is going pretty well actually. I'm entering my dissertation at the moment."
"Wow." She says simply. "It seems like just yesterday you were at our house, tutoring Phoebe in chemistry and…what was the other thing?"
"Calculus." Mr. Grey pipped in.
She snaps her fingers excitedly. "Calculus. That was it. Such a clever girl you are. Good work, really." I glance over to my father swirling amber liquid around in his crystal tumbler. He takes a drag of it before setting it on the coffee table at his feet.
Not even a flinch?
Mr. Grey whistles, his expression an impressed one. "Only 25 and you're already getting your Ph.D. That's simply insane." He looks to my father then. "You and Olivia must be so proud."
My father throws a look over his shoulder at me. "Come on, Christian—what she's doing…it's not going to turn a profit anytime soon. She's just trying to get a rise out of me." He laughs then. I take a deep breath, ignoring the nausea that rose in my stomach.
Such a kind and loving man, my father is.
"I'm…really tired. I think I'll turn in for the night." I say finally.
"Oh of course, you get some sleep." Ana stands up and comes into me for a hug, squeezing tightly. "Do what makes you happy, dear. And make sure you take care of yourself, okay?" She whispers in my ear and I give her an unenthusiastic nod.
When I finally get back to my room I collapse in my bed, pulling the comforter over my head, ready for sleep to take me prisoner.
xxx
"Phoenix, Arizona." Lance said suddenly.
My eyes drifted to where he stood by the flowerpots at the corner of the store. I took a deep breath and willed my attitude to cease at once. "What?"
"There's this flower shop in Phoenix, Arizona that sells glow in the dark roses. Haven't you been listening to me?"
I kind of looked at him sideways for a moment. "Let's just say for the hell of it I wasn't listening to you. Let's pretend that I never listen to a thing you say for the next month or so…Do you really think that I'll miss something important?"
"Yeah…you're a cunt." He said with a smile. "Can you measure the urgency and relevancy in that statement, big sis?"
I turned back around and continued the perusal of assorted flowers in front of me. The flower shop that was a few minutes away from our house, Red and Blue, was locally owned and had the most beautiful daisies and tulips I'd ever seen anywhere. Sometimes when I was a teenager I would come here and nag Mrs. Geoffrey to let me help water them. Eventually she let me work here as a part-time job, and whenever I come back to Washington I never fail to drop by and say hello. However, today's visit was not exactly a joyous reunion.
"Is he still running his mouth over there?" Ms. Geoffrey asked, her shaky and weathering voice painting a mock annoyance.
I threw a smile over my shoulder. "Does he ever stop?"
When I turned back around, Lance flashed me a goofy face before quickly flipping me off so that she wouldn't see and deliver a sharp blow to the top of his hard head.
"Put it in your blog." I muttered.
"How about these?" Ms. Geoffrey was at my side, holding up the most beautiful arrangement of hydrangeas I'd ever seen.
My heart swelled in my chest. Hydrangeas were my mother's favorite, and these were just breathtaking. I took them between both of my hands, relishing the relaxing crinkling sound that the paper made as I did. The fresh, natural smell wafted up to me and filled my head.
I remember then just how much my mother loves flowers, and then my heart sank just as fast when I remembered how my father would almost never buy them for her.
"These are perfect." I said softly before reaching out to hug her. She held me for a second. "We'll take them."
"What's the damage?" My little brother asked as he appeared beside me.
Ms. Geoffrey tucked her hands behind her back as she made a "Pff" sound with her mouth. "Don't be stupid, boy." Then she used her hand to wave us both away.
My eyes widened and I shook my head. "Not a chance," I reached for my wallet and Lance grabbed the flowers from my arms.
"Don't have to tell me twice." He scoffed and then turned towards to door.
"Lance, no." I turned back to her. "Would $200 cover it?" I asked, pulling the large bills out.
"Make sure you give your mother my blessings, child." She said and then turned to walk away, ignoring the money in my hand.
I made a horrified face and whined. "Ms. Geoffrey."
Ping.
The familiar ding from the bell of the front door rang through the small store but I was too trained on a very stubborn old lady who wouldn't accept payment for the beautiful and no doubt expensive arrangement she'd just handed me.
I stood at the front desk and watch her as she clipped some thorns off the stems of roses methodically. Even in her old age, she was incredibly agile when it came to cutting flowers. She clearly loved what she did, and I've always admired her dedication.
"How's Felix?" I asked with a huge smile on my face, wondering why her red tabby was nowhere to be found. He usually loved to sit right where I leaned against the counter, watching his owner with a bored look on his chubby face. Felix had to have been about 12 years old at this point, and I could tell by the look on Ms. Geoffrey's face he was becoming a handful.
"He's fat and lazy. So in short, he's become my ex-husband. He's in the back room asleep." She grumbled as she looked over my shoulder. "Damn it. I forgot about him."
I made a confused face, tilting my head slightly. I looked over my shoulder and as soon as my brain adjusted to what my eyes had captured, it felt as if my lungs had shriveled up and fell off of their bronchi and right into my stomach.
I saw his eyes first because they were like magnets. They were glued to me, scanning my body up and down before finally settling back on my face again. When he finally processed me in my entirety, a smirk pulled across his lips.
No.
My eyes immediately found the floor and the sheer horror kidnapped the place in my consciousness that housed the calm I've been nurturing since I was 21 years old.
All of the oxygen left my brain at once and I felt my head begin to spin, balance waver as if I had an inner ear infection. I turned around completely now, facing him, and pressed the small of my back against the counter.
An anticipated voice broke through my psyche. "Holy—Jillian? Jillian Pierce?"
I finally looked up again, my heart still hammering in my chest like crazy. I had to squeeze my shirt in my hands to stop them from shaking.
Bennett ducked his head down to meet my eyes and smiled. "Holy crap, it is you! Long time no see, right? Almost 3 years?" I cleared my throat and nodded my head microscopically. I couldn't speak, I'd forgotten that I even had a voice. How do you speak again? Syllables? Anything?
I was already looking for my exit plan. The door was right behind him, tucked between two metal shelves that held various flower pots, but I didn't have one-one hundredth the courage or nerve to run past him. He may as well have been a living wall.
I kept my focus trained on Bennett, trying very hard not to look over his shoulder to the eerily silent, lingering icy cold orbs that burned right through his body and into me.
Bennett had grown since I last saw him. He's a bit taller now but still handsome as ever with his sandy blonde hair and soft hazel eyes. He had that 'rich, frat boy' thing going for him. Always has, and apparently always will. He was the mirror image of his equally gorgeous, older sister Alba whom I'd never spoken to because she was way out of my social league. Sometimes it baffled me that the two of them weren't twins, they look so much alike.
"You look different." He said, and then scratched his chin as he studied me. "I can't quite put my finger on it." Bennett turned back to his cousin and then pointed over his shoulder at me. "Teddy look who it is." When Theodore said nothing, Bennett looked back at me. "I see you still dress like you just woke up 10 minutes ago."
Harsh, but true. Despite all the nice clothes that my mother and sister had bought and stuffed in my closet over the years, I'd always opted to dress more comfortably…in clothes that didn't draw attention to my strange body.
Jane would always describe me as curvy but small in all the right places. Typically, when I looked at the mirror I saw a girl who was too skinny, untanned, and ghostly. Today I was sporting a simple red long-sleeved turtleneck knit sweater and a pair of yellow batman pajama bottoms which was pretty presentable compared to how I usually dress. Especially when I have class in 15 minutes.
"She looks different? If by different you mean uglier than yeah, way different." A bored voice rambled from my immediate right. Lance leaned against the counter and rolled his eyes when I didn't bother to respond with the usual catty and equally as jabbing response. "What's wrong with you?" He asked, a small twinge of worry in his voice.
"She's probably just stunned by how attractive I am." Bennett joked. I didn't even pretend to be amused by that line. My eyes were stuck to the floor. I could feel this dark aura beginning to loom over me slowly like a rain cloud. It sucked all the life right out of my body as soon as I saw him. And for the first time in three years, I was genuinely afraid.
No one in my entire life has ever had this effect on me. No one but him.
"What are you guys doing here?" Lance asked, seeming to have forgotten about me already.
"My girlfriend just delivered." Bennett said proudly and then cupped his hands to his mouth. "I'm here to PICK UP THOSE FLOWERS I ORDERED FOR HER!"
Ms. Geoffrey made a face and then turned away, disappearing into the back room. She shut the door and we all heard the lock click. I assumed Bennett was making a crack at how old she was getting with that over exaggerated display you'd only extend to someone with progressive hearing loss.
"You probably shouldn't go into entertainment because you aren't funny." Lance said dryly.
"How old are you again?" Bennett asked before ruffling his already unkempt hair. "Like 12?"
Lance pushed his hand away and snarled. "20 actually and—"
"We were just leaving." I coughed out finally, my voice breaking as I did. I was surprised by how steadily I said that. In my head I'd imagined it was going to come out as a screechy and panicked lull.
"Ry."
Bennett turned around and gave his older cousin his undivided attention. "Sup?"
"Go wait in my car." He said quietly. I didn't look up but I knew he had to be looking at me. There was no way he wasn't. It didn't matter how many people were around, how thick the crowd of people that massed around him was. He always found me in the sea of faces—always.
"Eh?" He said confusedly. There was no response.
I finally looked up and just as I suspected, he was looking right at me. My knees buckled beneath me, my ears were ringing.
Bennett slowly turned and then slipped past his cousin out the door.
Theodore looked at my brother for a second and then his chin jerked back a bit, motioning for him to go.
Lance looked between the two of us but he didn't say anything. He pushed himself off the counter and said "I'll be in the car Ziggy, take care of whatever we owe so we can leave?"
What? Don't leave you idiot. Where do you think you're going? He tells you to leave and you just go without question?
As his back turned to me I reached out to grab him, my voice failing me again. Before I could get my hand on him another large one wrapped around my wrist and pushed it into the counter.
Lance disappeared out of the door and the tiny bit of courage I had left disintegrated. Theodore pushed his entire body against mine and my eyes immediately found the ground again. I stared at his black sneakers, his dark blue jeans, up to his black, long-sleeved thermal.
"Leaving so soon?" He asked, his voice so deep and smooth that it made me flinch, eyes boring into my head.
Whoa—I looked away. Looking him in the eyes was a huge mistake. Still as intense as ever.
I didn't know how to respond to that. Clearly I was trying to get away from him. That much alone should have been apparent. I never hid how much I disliked being near him, but that never deterred his hunger to berate and demean me, if anything it fueled it. "I…"
"You what?" He asked, purposefully cutting me off, goading me to catch feelings with him. "3 years I don't hear anything. I finally see you and this is the greeting I get?" He sucked a breath through his teeth, feigning hurt. "Cruel."
Cruel? Me?
I couldn't help but throw him a look then, one that he did not appreciate and made clear.
"Don't get brave now, Ziggy." My nickname was like venom rolling off his tongue. "You ran away from me. Own up to it. I won't get angry." His tone was so playful, but there was a warning and bone-shaking darkness to it that made me coil inwards.
Won't get angry? The way he looked at me would suggest that the fact I even breathed was torturous to him.
I was beginning to feel tears form at the back of my eyes, but I wasn't going to cry. I wouldn't dare give him the satisfaction. The memories of all the things he'd done to me over the years were slowly crawling their way up my subconscious and threatening to break through. I wouldn't let them.
"Please…" Gently, he ran his nose across my cheek, his soft lips gliding across the flesh as he did.
"Please what?" I inhaled deeply when he brought his mouth to the crook of my neck and pressed the smallest of kisses there. My entire body burst out into flames at the sensation and I all but collapsed into him, my stiff and guarded body turning to mush.
"Stop," I whimpered.
"How long?" He asked as he held my waist in his huge arms, completely ignoring my plea.
I shuddered out a weak "What?"
"How long have you been in town, and how long are you going to be here?"
I shook my head, unwilling to divulge that information. "Why do you care? What does it even matter to you?"
My body was spun around swiftly and slammed against the counter before I could say another word. My eyes widened as the wind was knocked out of me. I searched around for some kind of help but found nothing, as Ms. Geoffrey had locked herself in her office and my brother had disappeared outside. He pushed the front of his body against the back of mine, making me feel even more like a caged animal, trapped between a rock and a hard place.
I moaned breathlessly, unable to expunge any oxygen from my lungs, feeling almost as if I were suffocating but not quite. My pelvis strained against the hard surface in front of me, causing me to wince. "You're hurting me."
"Am I?" He asked, his tone filled with humor.
"Please…I didn't…" I searched my mind for answers that I didn't really have. Suddenly, I had this confusing urge to sate his anger. He was always angry with me for one reason or the other, and I would always search for ways to appease him which more often than not, didn't work. "I wanted to do my grad work at Berkeley…I didn't plan to be gone for so long." There was a helplessness in my tone that I hadn't heard from myself in a very, very long time.
He really didn't like that answer. I could tell by the deep laugh that bellowed from the bottom of his throat, felt it on the lumbar of my spine.
"I couldn't give two shits about what you were going to do, or what your plans were in the long run. Do I look like a give a fuck about you? Or what you want? Have you lost your fucking mind? Has that California air fucked your already deranged little brain? Those insignificant thoughts that pass through it? You fucking ran away because you're a poisonous, manipulative little bitch with daddy issues, right? It had nothing to do with me."
Well, that was my undoing right there. I was crying now. I held my hand to my mouth as the violent sobs threatened to rip me apart.
He squeezed my waist between his big, strong hands. "Crying, huh? Nice to see you're trying to shake it up for once." His tone was filled with boredom.
Why me? What did I do to hurt him? What did I do to make him hate me so much? Why does he treat me this way?
He turned me back around again and pulled my hand away from my mouth. I threw my head down violently, unable to meet his eyes again but he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him as he scanned my features with an unreadable expression.
All of a sudden, he brought his mouth down to my slobbery, tear soaked one, jammed his thumb inside to pry my jaw open. "Tongue." He said simply.
Without hesitation, I reflexively stuck out my tongue out, laid it flat against my bottom lip and he lazily drug his own across it from side to side. I moaned against him as he snaked one muscular arm around my waist and held me into his build, trapping my arms between his chest and my own.
It felt disgusting. I felt disgusting.
He pulled away and a single strand of saliva trailed between our tongues before snapping at the middle and disappearing. I stared up at him in awe and could see the lust in his eyes.
I was so confused, but it was only because they eyes held something inside of them I'd never seen before. It was soft, but visceral, violent, and almost…needy. I knew better though. Theodore Grey despised me. He always has, ever since he laid eyes on me.
I remember it like it was yesterday, his face was marked with bruises and there was a cut just below his eye. It was the day after my 12th birthday, my family had taken me to the Hamptons for Sunday brunch. We were in the playground outside of our school. He'd gotten into another fight. He fought a lot in middle school but I had no idea why.
I'd grown up with this enigmatic boy with the quiet, calm eyes that shone whenever he smiled. People flocked to him like gravity. Everyone adored and admired him. He was the epitome of popularity and social status, so I always wondered—to myself of course—why does he always look so…lonely? That smile he showed everyone…why did it seem fake?
I couldn't pin down just what it was which caused me to shake with even more fear of the unknown. When I could read his expression, no matter how scary or uninviting it was I felt calm. It was when I couldn't get a read on him that I truly began to panic.
He bit down on his bottom lip and then pressed his forehead to mine, his cold blue eyes leaving me speechless. He was as least a head taller than me still and I had to balance on my tip toes to keep from stumbling backwards. "Fuck." He seethed, his voice pained. Then he said, with so much humor and excitement in his deep quivering voice, "Tremble harder. It's like therapy to me."
I'm sure that my face looked horrible at that moment, could still feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. "You think that was bad, I plan to do so much worse to you. I'm going to shatter you."
He was far behind himself to say the least.
"I'm already broken. You cemented that a long time ago Theodore." I sneered angrily and then winced when I realized I'd just said his name. He hated it when I said his name. He always displayed his disapproval for it as if ants were crawling across his flesh.
To my surprise though, he didn't say anything of it. I didn't miss the way his hand on my ass tightened, so much that I squeaked out a moan. "No…you're not broken yet. Not enough to my liking at least. I'm going to show you broken and when I'm done you'll never have to question what suffering really is…you'll be living it."
